Finn sat in a long, empty, panelled corridor. Tall windows stood at each end, their light almost barred by dark, leafy trees. Through one Finn could just see the oscillating outline of the state flag. Benches lined either side of the polished floor, and Finn sat almost in the middle, his legs stretched in front of him, shiny shoes balanced one on top of the other. He was wearing a suit, and it made him uncomfortable. It had been his dad’s; his mom had dragged it out of the closet the previous morning, and it was stiff, and itchy. It smelt like a memory. Rubbing his eyes he laced his hands behind his head and leaned backwards against the wall. He couldn’t hear anything at all. Despite everything that was going on in this very building, nothing reached this corridor. Only an eerie silence.

He closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. For the last, he looked at his watch, twenty minutes he’d been running his lyrics for Nationals through his head, time and time again, until there were no mistakes, no rough points. It’d made him realise the irony of Pretending; so much had changed since he’d written that.

But now he’d run out of them, so he was going back through every Glee club number he could remember. He was surprised how much actually came back to him. In his mind he saw the different scenes from their earliest days; the auditorium and Don’t Stop Believing, the choir room and the mash up of Confessions Part II and It’s My Life, even the damp parking lot where Rachel had made him film Run, Joey, Run. God; he was glad they’d come such a long way from that.

With a bored sigh and another glance at his watch he started on I’ll Stand By You. But at the same time he was relieved; relieved that doing this was keeping his mind occupied and distracted. Each song brought today closer to an end. So if you’re mad, get mad, don’t hold it all inside, come on and talk to me now… Damn. Did it move into the chorus then, or was there another verse? Finn began to hum under his breath. A door banged somewhere in the distance, and then the quiet resumed. He closed his eyes in frustration, turning the words over and over in his mind. Talk to me now…

He heard another bang, and then voices, echoing down the hallways, filtered and hushed.

“…ok, baby?”

“Just go back…fine…minute…”

“…sure? I’ll go get…”

“No. Don’t.”

There was more silence. Finn opened his eyes and abandoned the song. More scraping sounds, then a low, gruff voice, broke down the hallway. There was some low muttering, then a firm, angry:

“Go.”

A door closed.

Finn listened. Something about the atmosphere had changed. He knew that he was no longer alone, that someone was around that bend in the corridor. He heard a low sniffling shuffling, and then a heavy grating as someone slumped onto a bench, as he had done. Finn got up, and began to walk as quietly as he could towards the window at the end of the corridor, his bored curiosity getting the better of him.

Reaching the high windows, he lent against the pillar of the wall and leaned out to glance around the corner. He’d been right, there was someone there. But then Finn became worried. Because it was Blaine who sat in the corridor, head back against the wall, eyes closed. Shit. Was he hurt? Sick? The guy looked upset, and Finn didn’t want to intrude. But he was sure Blaine was supposed to be in the court right now, along with Kurt and Dave. It was their session as witnesses; Finn had watched them all walk in this morning, Burt and Kurt, holding Blaine’s hand, and Dave and his parents.

Tentatively he took a step out, pushing himself into the light from the window.

“Blaine?”

He watched him flinch but then look up.

“Oh, Finn.”

He wiped his eyes on the back on his sleeve. He was also wearing a suit, but Finn thought it suited him, fitting to him like his Dalton uniform did, emphasising the best of his features. Finn felt a small spike of jealousy. Blaine obviously wasn’t borrowing his dead father’s tux.

“Sorry, ah…uh, you made me jump.”

“Sorry.”

Finn took another step forwards, standing awkwardly halfway between corridors.

“I was just sitting, like, round there,” He gestured back over his shoulder, turning, “And I heard the doors, and…”

What was he really trying to say here?

“Um…Blaine? Are you ok?”

Blaine looked up at him and smiled sadly.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

He wiped his eyes again.

“Just…just…sorry…got a bit emotional in there and…”

Finn edged forwards awkwardly again, but stopped as Blaine threw out his arms and began to struggle out of his jacket. He threw it down onto the bench beside himself in disgust and ran his hands up into his hair.

“Shit…I…I’m sorry Finn. I don’t mean to land this all on you…”

He ran out of words and hung his head, cupping his hands with his elbows on his knees.

Finn moved forwards once more, feeling some old sensation rise inside himself. It was his turn to be the leader again, to be the brave one. He walked over to the bench and quietly picked up Blaine’s jacket. Living with Kurt was starting to affect him, and he carefully folded it before setting it to one side.

“Mate.”

He said, sliding onto the bench beside Blaine. He left a small gap between them for decency’s sake, never forgetting the one week where Kurt had looked at him…that way.

“It’s fine. What happened? Load whatever crap you like onto me.”

He saw Blaine’s cheek dimple, and hoped he’d smiled. Blaine turned his head slightly to the side. Finn couldn’t help but glance down for a second at the still-raw scar which inched from under his gloss-brown hair.

“Thanks, man. I know Kurt couldn’t ask for a better brother.”

Finn smiled.

“Yeah, well, he seems to have done pretty well for himself with you too.”

Blaine let out a sniff of laughter and turned back to the floor.

“Flattery’ll get you anywhere…”

For a second Finn tried to come up with something to say, but then Blaine reached up and began to yank on the knot of his tie.

“Christ, it’s boiling in here.”

His fingers struggled around the bunched knot, growing more and more aggravated, until finally, with a bark of impatience, he yanked the entire noose as one over his head and went to throw it after his jacket. But Finn stuck out a hand.

“Careful, man. Come on. This isn’t you.”

Blaine froze, but then began to twist the tie between his hands, the reds and blues spiralling into each other, tighter and tighter.

“Yeah, well, I don’t really feel too like myself today. Thanks.”

Finn bit his lip; he felt like he was back with Kurt in that hospital corridor, caught in the crossfire of unintended anger. He leant back against the panelling, looking down on Blaine’s tense, hunched back.

“Where’s Kurt?”

Blaine’s back tightened even further, but Finn couldn’t tell what emotion was behind it. An arm flew out to the side, thrown towards the doors Blaine must have come through.

“He’s…he’s still in there. He has to give his account…his side.”

He spat out the term.

“They kept calling it that. Like there was some doubt about it.”

“Who did?”

“The defence guy.”

“They were questioning you?”

“Yeah.”

Selfish panic began to build inside of Finn. Was he going to have to go through the same thing later? But he also grew anxious for Kurt. What were they asking him? What were they trying to twist?

“But…but how can they do that? I mean, the guy was caught red handed. I saw him. He was going to kill Puck. Hell, he tried to kill me.”

Finn’s voice faded at the truth of the words.

“How can they even be defending him? What are they trying to prove?”

Blaine was silent. But then he slid upright, closing his eyes against the wall.

“They’re trying to portray him as ‘mentally unstable’. They’re trying to get him off on being crazy, insane, and saying that Puck drove him over the edge.”

Finn shook his head in disbelief.

“No way. No way.”

Blaine swallowed, tears flowing back into his eyes and choking his throat. His head began to pound, as if a vice was being tightened around it.

“And they said that I was the only one who could prove otherwise.”

“What?”

“They…they said that…that everything he’d done in the choir room only proved their case…and that I was the only one that could have possibly seen him differently…”

Finn mouthed wordlessly at the horror of it.

“Bu…bu…but didn’t Kurt see him?”

Blaine leaned into his hands, pressing them to his head until it hurt even more. He couldn’t think, couldn’t bear it.

“I don’t know.”

He muttered. Tears began to dribble down his fingers as he dug his fists into his eyes.

“But…Fuck, Finn,” He exclaimed the words like a prayer, begging. “I…I can't remember. And…and if I can't remember, then what’s the point? What’s the damn point?”

He leapt up onto his feet, slamming his twisted tie into the marble floor with a cry.

“What’s the fucking point? The guy almost kills me,” He was properly shouting, the first time Finn had seen him lose control. “He breaks my head open, and…and I can't remember whether he did it with…with a smirk or a cackle…so he gets off? Where’s the fucking justice?”

He paused, his anger finding no real outlet except the echoing halls. Finn stayed sitting, numb at the betrayal the adult world had forced upon them. Blaine’s chest rose and fell, tears peppering his tieless white shirt.

“You know the worst thing?”

His voice was measured, distilled to clean fury and hatred.

“You know what it made me think? He must be mad. Because how could someone who wasn’t insane even think about doing something like that?”

Finn had no words.

Blaine threw up his hands and turned full circle in anger.

“God!”

The movement made the blood rush to his head and dark circles popped in his vision. He staggered slightly. Finn reached out an arm instinctively, and Blaine caught hold of it, steadying himself. Slowly, he shuffled back to the bench.

“I…I can't go back in there, Finn.”

His voice had quietened, settled into a terrified hush.

“I can’t. He’s there. Right there; all blank and lifeless. Right at the front.”

“But you have to.”

Finn hated the pressure and betrayal in his words.

“Blaine; if you’re the only one who can finish this…”

The terrible verdict dried up in his mouth.

Blaine looked up at him with terrible pleading eyes. He still clung to Finn’s arm.

“No. No. Finn; come on. I told you…I told everybody…I can’t remember.”

Finn tried to consider some incredibly deep advice, or some inspiring guidance, but his brain stopped functioning with the fear in Blaine’s eyes. Gosh; he knew now why Kurt was in so deep.

“Alright…okay…”

They needed some new focus; some new way to tackle this.

But then the door to their left, which Blaine had come through, jumped open and an agitated middle aged man, head to toe in a suit just like them, pushed himself through. Finn could hear a hushed babble of voices coming from the room behind him, and the man himself was leaning backwards, finishing a conversation with someone over his shoulder.

“…yeah, I’ll…no, no. Stay there. I’ll sort it out, Mrs Anderson.”

Finn saw Blaine sniff and straighten up at the appearance of the man. He still hadn’t looked at or acknowledged his two observers.

But then he turned and closed the door with a click, shutting away the noise. A half smile formed effortlessly on his face, and he turned to face them.

“Blai…”

But he faltered, awkwardly double-taking when he saw Finn, his small eyes growing angry.

“Blaine? I told you, you’re not to talk to anyone. What are you playing at?”

Blaine turned back to his knees.

“If you violate the protocol of a respite, they could have you thrown out of the hearing. Do you understand?”

Finn almost saw the heart to argue leaving him. He spoke up instead, his voice louder and angrier than he intended; this man must be something to do with the case.

“What the hell’s going on? Where do those dicks get off with thinking they can claim this whole thing as some sort of mental episode?”

The man’s face darkened. He spoke slowly and heavily.

“Blaine? Who the hell is this?”

Finn had opened his mouth to throw the question back, but before he could Blaine had mumbled,

“Finn…”

The suited man’s narrow eyes flicked up to look him over.

“Finn? Finn Hudson?”

“That’s right.” Said Finn. “And who the hell are you? How do you know who I am?”

“I’m the lawyer for this goddamn whole case, son. So if you don’t mind, you’ll watch your mouth.”

Finn looked at him incredulously.

“You?”

“Me. Don’t gush with so much admiration. What’s Blaine said to you?”

“Just…just that they’re trying to force the whole thing to look like this schizo fit. And that they’re pining it all on him...”

He saw Blaine sink deeper into himself.

The lawyer moved forwards. Finn saw his arm quiver, as if he was tempted to put it out onto Blaine’s shoulder.

“Yeah. Well, that’s as maybe, but we’re not going to let them get away with this bull.”

Blaine’s head rocked up slightly. His voice shook.

“Mr…Mr Chambers…I, I can’t go back in there…”

“Blaine, you have too.”

“I can’t.”

“Blaine, five minutes is all the rest I can get you without breaking up the entire day.”

“But…but I can't face them again.”

The lawyer ran his fingers through his hair in agitation.

“Alright…alright…”

He pressed his fist to his forehead and began to pace. Something about his movements made Finn wonder whether this was genuine concern, or simply a well oiled act.

“What if…what if we…no, that won’t work, not if they want to frame you as the only witness…so we…press the judge for lenience on account of the stress,” he waved his hand expressively, addressing the corridor, “The ordeal, that you’ve been put through. That means you look sad, Blaine. Tear up if you can, just like before.” The boy’s head nodded in shame. “And we ask that their questioning be adjourned.”

Blaine suddenly looked up hopefully.

“Stopped?”

“At least for now.”

Blaine sniffed. Finn looked at him carefully, and then spoke up. He didn’t like the calculating tone he was hearing.

“So what happens now?”

The lawyer rounded on him.

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. I’ll let you know what happens. Blaine and I walk back into that courtroom and try and salvage this case, so that it doesn’t fall to shit before it’s even begun. And you; you’re gonna turn right around and walk to the other side of the building and make sure someone sees you. You’re gonna build an alibi. You’re gonna forget anything you’ve heard here; you’re gonna forget you were even here. Clear enough?”

Finn was ready to punch the guy. Who was he to say anything? He’d never even met him before?

“Excuse me?”

He saw Blaine flinch at the raised voices. Pitifully, the boy bent down and retrieved his tie, putting it on like a child trying to placate two warring parents.

Chambers lowered his voice to an ominous whisper.

“You heard me. Do you need me to sit you on my lap and explain, or are you going to do as you are told?”

Blaine looked pitifully up at Finn, and for a moment he thought the lawyer had twisted him under his thumb. But then Finn realised it wasn’t him Blaine was looking at. No; having finished his tie, he was turning to his jacket. Finn turned to pass it to him, but before he could lay his hands on it, Chambers had seized it and passed it over. Finn’s hands froze and balled into fists.

“Why don’t you let him do things for himself, huh?”

“Why don’t you?”

Finn shook his head in disbelief; this guy was unbelievable.

“Because weirdly enough, I’m trying to help; which is obviously not you’re motive.”

“Sure it isn’t. Pardon me, Finn, if I seem to care a little less about cuddling you both up and wrapping you in cotton wool and saying everything’ll be just fantastic. Because I happen to care just the teensiest bit more about sending that son-of-a to jail for as long as possible, whatever the cost. And I thought you would too.”

Blaine mutely stretched into his jacket. Finn was silent. The anger behind them had made the lawyer’s words ring true, but he was still unconvinced. Mr Chambers broke their eye contact first and turned back towards the door, ushering Blaine up from the bench. He ignored Finn.

“Ok, Blaine? Just follow my lead, alright? You’re not gonna have to do anything you don’t feel perfectly comfortable with. And make sure the jury see that you’re not comfortable with it; understand?”

Blaine just shuffled forwards. With a hand on the handle of the heavy wooden door, Chambers turned back to Finn, almost as an afterthought.

“Go, Finn. Please. I’m not trying to lie, or cheat you. It’s for the best; just do what I said.”

He began to pull on the door but then stopped.

“Oh, and, don’t do this again, there’s a good man?”

Finn snorted and turned on his heel. Whatever.

A voice floated over his shoulder.

“And I’ll see you later. You’ll get your chance.”