gleebles A/N; IT'S 2013! Ahh, craziness!

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HERE'S THE END!

Epilogue
"The Return to Innocence"

The return to innocence,
If you want, then start to laugh,
If you must, then start to cry,
Be yourself don't hide,
Just believe in destiny.

Don't care what people say,
Just follow your own way,
Don't give up and use the chance,
To return to innocence.

Principal Figgins

It was almost 6:30 PM when Principal Figgins entered the McKinley High. As he passed through the halls, he inspected the damage that had been inflicted to his school. It was still a mess. There were papers, binders, purses, book bags, books, jackets, and pencils scattered all across the floor. He closed his eyes, the moments of sheer panic and chaos now over, but still very fresh in his mind.

He eventually ventured into his office and took a seat at his desk. He inhaled and exhaled deeply before he slid the microphone toward him.

"Dear students of McKinley High. If you are still in the school, it's safe to come out now. It's over."

He blinked, processing everything.

"We'll carry this with us for the rest of our lives…but we'll get through this together."

Will Schuester

Emma crossed the living room and took a seat next to her fiancé. He didn't have to say anything for her to understand that he was upset. By the way he pressed his closed fist to his mouth, she knew he was near tears.

"I just," he choked and then rubbed his forehead. "I wish I had been there with them."

"No," Emma crooned softly, rubbing her hand up and down his back. "You can't think like that. It's over now and they'll be okay."

"They must've been so scared," Will exhaled shakily and tears slid down his cheeks. Emma reached up and wiped them away. Will looked up at her with a devastatingly broken expression.

"Now they're safe," she reassured softly. "Eventually, they'll be okay."

Will squeezed his eyes shut and leaned forward into Emma's awaiting arms.

Finn Hudson

If anyone had asked him days before the school shooting, Finn would've agreed; crying on your mother at age 18 was ridiculous and pathetic. However, in the moment he had seen his mother outside, open, warm, and awaiting, away from the hurt and terror, he had burst into tears and allowed himself to fall in her arms.

And then once they went home and Finn found out that it was not Kurt that had died, but Rory, he cried more. Then he felt himself feel happy that Rory died instead of Kurt and that made him cry harder. He thought about how awful that day had been and how safe his mother felt and cried even harder.

He didn't even think about being ashamed of himself. He didn't even think about being 18 years old, 6'3" tall, and three times the size of his mother. His mom was there and beautiful and accepting and comforting and non-judgmental and very much safe.

So he didn't think. He just cried.

Mercedes Jones

The church was quiet and empty. There were only three stain-glassed windows in which pale morning light shined weakly through.

Mercedes sat in the middle of the church, holding hands with her mother.

It was five in the morning, the day after the shooting, when Mercedes entered her mother's room.

"Mom?" she spoke softly and her mother stirred.

"What's the matter baby?" Desireé sat up, blinking at her daughter. "Why are you in a dress?"

Mercedes shifted her weight between feet.

"I just…I need to go to church."

"Now?" her mother asked, getting out of bed.

"Yes. Mama, get back in bed, I'll be back in an hour or so."

Her mother pulled on a pair of brown slacks and chose a maroon sweater out of her chestnut dresser.

"Don't be silly. I'll come with you."

Desireé squeezed her daughter's hand and Mercedes bowed her head.

'Please Lord,' she prayed, 'help Rory's family through this difficult time. Help all of my classmates, especially Kurt, Sam, Finn, and Mike. I'm praying for Charlie and Ron too. Help them realize the impact their mistakes have caused and help them to feel remorse. And please keep me in Your prayers. I…I want to forgive them, but I'm having trouble. I want to forgive them. All of these things I pray in Your name, Jesus. Amen.'

Rachel Berry

Rachel quickly parked her car and rushed into the hospital. The whole school shooting had occurred the previous day and she had not been able to see or contact Finn the entire day or night. Finally, this morning at 6:30, he had messaged her, explaining that he was at the hospital with Kurt. She quickly texted him back, telling him that she'd be there in ten minutes.

She asked for her best friend at the front desk and, after she was directed, hurried to the elevator. Once she arrived on the third floor, she immediately spotted Burt with a Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand, about to enter a patient room.

"Mr. Hummel!" Rachel cried and sped toward him.

"Rachel," Burt greeted shortly, backed away from the door, and opened his arms. Rachel gave him a brief hug and then looked up at him.

"How's he doing?" she asked, gesturing toward the room she had seen Burt entering, and he rubbed his face roughly.

"It's been a rough morning," he sighed, placing his hands on his hips. "You know concussions. He's experiencing some slight memory loss, and his migraines are something awful."

Rachel listened and nodded slowly.

Burt glanced down at her.

"You haven't seen Finn yet, have you?" he asked and Rachel immediately shook her head.

"No, is he in there?" she asked and was relieved to see him nod.

"Can I—?"

"Let me bring him out here," he spoke gruffly and twisted the handle. He pressed a finger to his lips and opened the door. Rachel peeked into the room and found it engulfed in darkness.

Burt disappeared, but then Finn appeared seconds later. He looked down at Rachel and gave a weak smile.

Rachel launched herself at him and began to cry.

"I was so worried," she sobbed and clung to him tighter.

"I'm okay," he spoke thickly and Rachel froze, realizing that he too was in tears.

"Finn?" she asked, trying to peer up at his face, but he held onto her closer.

"I love you," he exhaled shakily and began to shake with silent sobs. Rachel wasn't in this position often, it was usually the other way around, and she still didn't know how to really comfort him. She didn't know what to say. Thoroughly unsure of what to do, she just held him and let him cry.

Blaine Anderson

Blaine sat in his dark bedroom and stared at nothing in particular. He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting at the edge of his bed; he had lain down to get some rest hours ago, but thoughts swirled in his mind restlessly and refused him sleep.

So he sat there and stared.

"Blaine, hellooo?"

Blaine's eyes flicked upward and noticed his mother standing at the doorway.

"Yes?" he asked and she gave him a funny expression.

"I asked if you were having trouble sleeping."

Blaine shrugged one shoulder.

Margaret shifted her weight between feet before entering her son's room and taking a seat next to him. She kissed his temple and hugged him gently.

"Honey, do you want to talk about it?"

Blaine shook his head.

"No."

Santana Lopez

"Just…hold your breath for a second," Brittney murmured, stroking Santana's arm up and down. They were in Santana' bedroom, lying on their sides. Santana had been crying for the past five minutes.

"I've-" she hiccupped and wiped at her eyes. "I have never been so scared in my life."

Brittney's hand paused and Santana burst into tears again. She thought for a moment before starting up again.

"I'm here," she reminded and pressed a kiss against Santana's cheek.

Artie Abrams

Artie could remember walking. He remembered what it felt like to stand and play soccer and tumble in the backyard. He also remembered the car accident and then…feeling nothing.

He had felt so incredibly powerless and vulnerable then. But it was nothing compared to the school shooting.

The second he saw the gun, he felt...exposed. There was nothing separating him and death, but then suddenly, there was Mike.

Never had he felt so helpless.

Tina Cohen-Chang

Sitting by Mike's side in the hospital, staring at his sleeping figure, Tina felt hatred. She was such a calm, peaceful individual, and yet she vibrated with a palpable rage. Mike, who wanted nothing in life other than dance, lay with a bullet hole through his upper thigh.

His entire world had shifted with that one bullet and Tina didn't know what would become of Mike.

And she was furious.

Mike Chang

On his desk lay multiple college applications for medical school. Applications for dance schools now lay in the garbage.

Kurt Hummel

Kurt felt his head give another painful throb and he exhaled. He squeezed the hand in his own and was displeased when he didn't feel it return.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked aloud in the dark room, but didn't receive a reply. He squeezed his hand again, "Blaine."

"Yes?" Blaine asked and Kurt tugged him forward.

"C-Come lay down with me," he mumbled, his head flaring in pain.

He had received a concussion from Ron's gun. After two days in the hospital, Kurt was sent home and was finally able to see Blaine. It had been five days since he was released from the hospital and every day it was the same routine: Blaine came over, sat next to Kurt in the dark basement, away from noise and light which both caused Kurt's head to flare in pain, and they held hands. Though Kurt persisted, Blaine refused to lie down with Kurt or cuddle with him at all. Normally, Blaine was uptight and formal around others, but in front of Kurt he could relax and be himself. However, uptight and formal was the only Blaine Kurt ever saw since the shooting.

"Just get some rest, Kurt," Blaine replied smoothly and finally squeezed Kurt's hand back.

"I will if y-you c-come lie with m-me," he reasoned. Kurt noticed in the hospital that he was having trouble speaking, but the doctor said that stammering after a concussion was not unheard of and to not be alarmed. It would go away with time.

"Do you need more medication?" Blaine diverted his wish.

"No," Kurt sighed and closed his eyes.

They sat for a moment in silence.

"I wish you would t-talk to me," Kurt whispered.

Kurt wasn't sure if Blaine simply hadn't heard him or if he didn't have an answer for him, but either way he didn't respond.

Kurt sighed, releasing Blaine's hand, and flipped to his other side, facing the wall.

Burt Hummel

"Burt?"

Mr. Hummel looked away from the computer screen and up at his wife. Carole stared down at him in concern.

"Come to bed, sweetheart," she murmured and touched his face gently. He closed his eyes as she kissed the top of his bald head.

"In a minute," he smiled and she patted his shoulder twice before returning to their bedroom. She peeked back at him for a moment, smiled, and shut the door behind her.

Burt hesitated before glancing at the clock. It was nearing midnight and Carole worked at five in the morning. He knew it was important for her to spend quality time together, cuddling and whatnot, before getting ready for the day.

He pulled the previous page back up on his monitor and decided to finish the article and then he would join his wife in bed.

According to the article, the psychological affects after a school shooting were extremely complex. There were different reactions, emotions, stages of grief, etc. He tried to pinpoint where his boys fit into the emotional process. Finn was, Burt scanned the page again, most likely depressed. He hung around the house, hardly ate, didn't play videogames, but he didn't mind talking about the shooting. He was open and he cried and he hurt. In Burt's opinion, he was healing.

Kurt was also healing, but slowly. He spent his afternoons in the dark basement and listened to music on low. His migraines were becoming fewer and further apart, but he was still hurting. Burt wondered if he was even dealing with the emotional aspects of the event at all.

He reached the bottom of the page when a link for parents caught his interest.

Tips for Parents – How To Help Your Child Heal

Burt hesitated, thinking of Carole, then clicked on the link.

Sam Evans

"Sammy!" Stacey called and tucked at his jacket. "Can we play Go-Fish?"

Sam shrugged off his sister's grasp and gave her a tight smile.

"Not right now, Stace."

His brother then strode up to him and placed his chin on Sam's knee.

"Can't we go outside?" Stevie wondered, but Sam stood up suddenly and ran a hand through his hair.

"Mom," he spoke quietly and waved his hand sporadically toward his siblings. "Dad, please."

Dwight and Mary Evans both looked up from their place on the couch and his mother stood.

"Come on kids," she smiled, beckoning them closer. She tucked a blonde strand of hair behind her ear and then picked up Stacey. "Let's go play in your room."

"Is Sammy sad again?" Stevie wondered, following his mother.

"Let's just give your brother some space," she advised and disappeared around the corner.

Sam watched them go and then turned to the door.

"Sam," his father called. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he spoke aloud. "Just getting some air."

Sam sealed the door behind him and inhaled deeply. It was mid-February and the chilled wind was biting at his nose and cheeks.

"Sam, I was wondering if maybe you'd like to be my Valentine's Day sponsor as well? I mean, you did such a good job being a Christmas sponsor, I figure you'd have no problem helping me nab a snog or two by February..."

Sam closed his eyes and exhaled shakily.

Rory's murderer was still out there.

Ron's trial date was nearing and there was a chance that he'd be set free. If that were to happen—

"Sam, come inside," his father called through the screen door. "It's freezing out there. You'll catch a cold."

Sam looked down at his clenched hands and stepped backwards toward the front door.

Anger rippled through him and he decided not to entertain the possibility of Ron's charges dropping. There was only one solution if that were to happen, but Sam couldn't think the words in his head.

He wasn't a murderer.

Noah Puckerman

"Noah!"

Puck rolled his eyes but continued with his exercise. "What?"

"I told you one rep with 50 pounds! What do you think you're doing?"

"I figured if I do 3 reps with 100 pounds that'd cover two weeks in one trip. I've got baseball season to worry about."

His physical therapist did not seem very pleased with his remark.

"You're going to end up hurting yourself even more if you don't follow my directions, Noah."

"If I follow your directions, I'll be here until graduation."

Like he cared if he got hurt more. He might spend his spring season benched, but at least he'd have a kickass scar to make up for it.

Quinn Fabray

Sam answered his phone, but refused to talk to her about the shooting. Quinn debated calling Kurt, but decided against it, knowing he was hurt. She didn't even know the name of the boy with glasses, let alone have his phone number. Santana answered the first time, but, like Sam, didn't want to talk about it and had ignored her calls ever since.

She just needed to talk to someone.

Emma Pillsberry
August 2011

Emma loved her job. Becoming a guidance counselor, talking to kids, and helping them with their problems was the most important and rewarding decision she had ever made.

She smiled, humming to herself, and realigning the pamphlets neatly when a soft knock sounded at her door.

She turned, expecting Will, but instead found a small boy with brown hair standing uneasily at the threshold.

"Hello," she greeted, sounding surprised. "Can I help you?"

He shifted apprehensively and rubbed his forearm. Emma noticed cuts on his face and light green spotting under his eye from what looked like a week-old black eye.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked with a terribly weak sounding voice.

"Absolutely, come in," Emma spoke, approaching him. "Why don't you take a seat?"

The boy tentatively stepped into the room and Emma closed the door behind him.

"Alrighty," she smiled and moved behind her desk. She took a seat and smiled as the boy mirrored her actions. "My name is Miss Pillsberry."

The boy glanced up at her with incredibly bright blue eyes.

"Charlie."

gleebles A/N; Sequel to this story is currently in progress! It will be called We're Only Human, inspired by the song Human by Jon McLaughlin. It's a great song; give it a listen!

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Hope you all had a happy New Year and THANKS FOR READING! :D

- gleebles