Inside the locker room was pure darkness. Finn stumbled, struggling to slow himself down on the shards of the floor, and fumbled around the door for a light switch. He found it and forced his trembling fingers onto it.

The light was blinding. Kurt shut his eyes and held Blaine to him, feeling his injured boyfriend shudder and flinch at the sudden brightness. Karofsky shut his eyes and threw his good arm across them, letting out a yelp of pain.

Suddenly Kurt felt hands on his face, pulling at him, grabbing his arms. He held on tighter to Blaine, having no idea what was going on, keeping his eyes shut. Someone was calling his name, but it sounded odd, distant and forgotten.

And then there were more voices, more shouting. Kurt opened his eyes to slits, but all that came in is blinding whiteness. Until something cut across the light, and his eye could focus. His ears snapped, and the sounds made sense.

“Kurt? Kurt, wake up…Please, Kurt, open your eyes.”

Finn. It’s Finn. Kurt opened his eyes fully, forcing them to deal with the new brightness even though it sent spears of pain into his mind.

“Finn?”

He was confused on so many levels. But then the face in front of him split into the biggest grin. Kurt glanced over at Karofsky and down at Blaine. Both of them had their eyes slightly open. They’re all watching in wonder. Kurt saw new dark shapes appear in the room. Some gathered round Dave, others clustered around him, Blaine and Finn, some moved straight past all of them, to the back of the room.

“Finn, what’s happening?”

Other hands were on him now, and Finn was being pulled backwards by strangers he doesn’t recognise. He saw tears in his brother’s eyes.

“They’re getting help, Kurt, ok? They’re gonna help. Everything’s gonna be fine now.”

Finn’s voice shuddered in his throat; he couldn’t take in what he was seeing. There was a bucket, just over to one side of Kurt, filled with disgusting red water. He felt bile rise in his throat. Other patches of blood spattered the floor. Blaine was so, so pale and quiet in Kurt’s clinging arms. There were rags and torn clothes everywhere. And Karofsky. What the hell was Karofsky doing there; white as a ghost, his arm wrapped in what looked like the shirt Kurt had been wearing only hours before?

Kurt looked up at his big brother. He wanted to hug him, really badly, but he could never let go of Blaine. As if sensing his thoughts the hands began to pull at his arms, whispering words:

“Come on now…just…we’ll take care…”

“No,” Kurt spoke up, to no one in particular. “I’m not leaving him.”

He tightened his hand around Blaine’s and felt it weakly squeezed. Blaine’s chest rose, and Kurt felt him whisper something, but he couldn't hear it. He saw Dave being helped to his feet; saw his uninjured arm being draped over someone’s shoulders. Kurt kept struggling against the prying fingers. He saw Finn look at him in nervous concern, he heard his voice again.

“Kurt, you have to let them help. You have to let go.”

Pushed forward by one of the surrounding policemen, Finn was suddenly by his side again, and his hands joined in trying to free Kurt from Blaine, moving gently like the others, not wanting to hurt either of them further.

“No…” Kurt whispered weakly. “Finn, no, I can't.”

And suddenly another voice cut across them all.

“Leave them alone, goddamn it!”

Karofsky, held upright by the lockers and leaving heavily on another cop, had turned round at the end of the aisle to shout faintly back across the room. His face was gritted with effort and pain.

“Can't you see he shouldn’t be moved? Go get the paramedics, do something useful.”

“Son, calm down, alright? We’re just doing our job.”

One of the men kneeling by Kurt and Blaine spoke up. Finn recognised him. He wasn’t wearing a vest. He was the leader, the man he’d pulled along upstairs and then run from.

“No,” Karofsky wouldn’t back down. Finn watched him in wonder; what the hell had come over him? “No...”

His voice trailed away, his mind had run out of things to say. But underneath he was so angry; he wanted to fight for Kurt to stay with Blaine. The police officer supporting him began to walk again, pulling Dave away from the lockers, and he had to walk with him to stop himself from collapsing to the floor. They reached the back door; the old obstructing washing trolley had been pulled away into the showers, and Karofsky saw another line of police, and he felt himself move from one pair of hands to another, passed along until finally someone helped him to the ground and he was allowed to lie down. Calm voices moved around him, but there were also flashing, angry lights and whispered, hurried shouts. It was dark again, and colder, much colder. He shivered. He felt so tired.
Then he felt himself lifted, and invisible hands began to pull him away from the huge, looming, dark grey buildings.

The policeman didn’t wait for Karofsky to leave the room before he turned back to Kurt.

“Come on, son, give this up now.”

Kurt shook his head, and his whole body seemed to vibrate with it. He leant his head on Finn’s shoulder and let the tears run from his eyes. The officer sighed.

“Ok. Ok.”

Kurt’s heart relaxed momentarily; he thought they’d won.

“What’s your name, honey?”

This time it was a different person, a lady, but a different one from the one upstairs, who spoke out to Kurt. She was kneeling like the others at his side, but hadn’t been pulling at his arms. Kurt noticed with a tremor that she was holding Blaine’s head arms, her hands supporting the back of his neck.

“K-kurt…”

“Ok, Kurt. I’m Laura. And what’s his name?”

She nodded down at her own hands.

“Blaine.”

The eyelids between her arms gave a faint flicker at the word.

“Blaine? Alright. Kurt, I want you to listen to me, okay? We’re not trying to move Blaine; we’re just trying to do some first aid, okay? I know your friend…”

Finn swallowed a snort at the word being applied to Karofsky, but Kurt automatically filled in: “David.”

“I know David was only trying to help, and he is right, but we need you to let go, ok?”

Kurt slowly digested the words. The man leaned forwards again.

“Come on, Kurt; let go of your friend.”

Kurt shook his head again, but felt his hands begin to loosen.

“He’s not my friend…I…I love him…”

Finn stared down on the boy he’d come to think of as his little brother, seeing all the anguish in his face and feeling unquenchable pride blossom within himself. Slowly, ever so slowly, Kurt allowed other hands to replace his own in Blaine’s. And then, slower still, he let Finn pull his shoulders backwards and slid his legs from under the body of his boyfriend. Kurt felt the blood rush back to his legs, feeling the weight fall off them until he felt as light as air. Finn gathered his brother into himself and embraced him, the relief finally washing over himself.

But Kurt felt nothing of the same. He watched Laura carefully lower Blaine’s head onto the same jumper he had used all that time ago. Holding onto Finn he watched them scour Blaine’s poor figure, touching him, testing him, talking at him but not properly to him.

The door at the back of the room clattered open once more, and four figures in dark green came hurrying towards them. The police officers parted, all except for Laura, as the green paramedics took over. Now Kurt could only watch.
-
Will Schuester stood up and watched from behind the police tape cordon as shadowy figures began to emerge from the buildings. There had been silence for a long time now; ever since the last shot had rocked the air. Police had come backwards and forwards through the entrance ever since that first group had run in almost half an hour ago.

And then, about five minutes ago, the paramedic team had set off down into the courtyard without warning. When they had moved Will had jumped up and tried to follow, hurdling the tape, but a policeman had grabbed him and forced him back. Emma had come and taken hold of his shoulders, sitting him down again and letting him hang his head in his hands. But then she’d had to leave; parents were beginning to arrive at the back of the crush of vehicles. Even now Will could see and hear them, shouting, demanding answers. Over to his right, round on the opposite side of the gate, he could see Finn’s mom and Kurt’s dad, silently holding hands and staring at the desolate school.

But now there was a stirring near the steps down to the courtyard, and Will could see small groups of people walking slowly up. He strained his eyes against the darkness, trying to make out any of his kids amongst the dark, armed figures. And then he saw them, huddled, led, frightened. First up the steps was Rachel, followed by Quinn, then Brittany and Santana. Emerging from the darkness they looked up and blinked in the light of the police vans. And then in turn their eyes locked on figures in the crowd. Will felt himself pressed forward as weeping mothers and stunned fathers surged through the guards, running to embrace their daughters. He saw Rachel’s dads envelope her, Brittany’s dad scooping her into his arms, tears running down everyone’s cheeks. And suddenly he felt lost. No one needed him here. No one was waiting for him.

A second cluster of shapes moved silently into view, and he made out Tina and Mike, arms around each other, Lauren and Mercedes, and Artie, carried gently alongside his chair by two officers to the top of the stairs. And a little way behind them came Sam, carefully cradling his arm to his chest, ushered along by a differently uniformed man who drew him to one side and to the back of a waiting ambulance.

The crowd of parents and family swelled. Everyone was crying and smiling and hugging, and Will stood on the edge of it, just watching. Once more he counted down mentally. Ten. Ten out and fine. Three to go. Puck, Finn and Kurt. Two of the toughest boys and one of the cleverest. They had to be fine too, surely. Craning his neck, Will raised himself onto his toes, holding onto the police tape for balance, expecting to see the fuzz of Puck’s Mohawk emerging over the heads of those in front of him. But he saw nothing. Again he felt helpless. Then, glancing around, his heart fell further. Burt and Carol were still standing apart from the rest, looking, as he had done, over heads and into the crush of bodies, trying to find their children. William took an unconscious step forward, but then stopped himself. No; he didn’t belong in this, this was about family. He tightened his hands on the plastic tape, winding it loosely over his fingers to distract himself. But then he felt a hand on his shoulder, a small push at his back and a voice in his ear:

“Go. They need you too.”

It was Emma. And looking up and forwards Will needed no more encouragement. He jumped the tape and ran forwards. Rachel was the first to spot him, then Tina and Mike. Soon each single member was gathered around him, all sobbing into each other, parents at their shoulders. Will didn’t know what to say. He just joined their crying.

But then suddenly, like a wave, a single thought seemed to wash the teens, and almost as one they turned to him.

“Kurt?”

Mercedes asked in a quavering voice.

“Blaine?”

Mr Schuester had no reply. Why were they asking? Why Blaine?

“I…I thought they’d be with you?”

“No…no, Kurt went…and then…”

The looks in their once innocent eyes were enough to transpose their fears into his heart. He spun wildly, looking for a policeman, anyone to help them. But two more questions, two more names, pressed to his lips before he could do anything else.

“Puck? And Finn?”

Lauren looked up and around herself, almost in surprise.

“Noah. He was just, just inside, just talking to them…to the police…”

She turned fully now, taking on a responsibility, scanning the crowd for his mom. Finding her standing like Burt and Carole, Lauren ran forwards from her own parents arms to tell her everything was alright.

“And, and Finn?”

Will tried again, consciously trying to keep his voice out of range of Carole.

Rachel and Quinn looked up together, looking at each other.

“He’s fine, fine too.”

“But he went to look for Kurt, went to get him, with the cops.”

Mr Schuester’s heart split. What could he tell them? That one of their sons had gone to look for the other. That only one was safe? He turned away from the group, to face Burt and Carole, hoping his mind would resolve itself once he opened his mouth. But when he turned he saw they were paying him no attention at all. They were staring, shaken, into the gap between the buildings, where the dim outlines of the football posts were just visible. And from this new viewpoint Will could see what they saw. Flashing lights, red and blue, red and blue, illuminating the bright green grass. The lights shadowed a group of figures slowly, ever so carefully, manoeuvring a stretcher into the back of one of a pair of ambulances.

And without thinking Will tore the police tape from in front of the two, pulling them through, through the gates and across to the stairs, heading towards the lights. He heard the shouts of the others as they tried to follow, and the shouts of the cops as they formed ranks to hold them back. But Will, and Carole, and Burt’s eyes never deviated from that tiny strip of ground and the shapes within it.