Chapter 1

The auditorium of William McKinley High School was not the most popular hang-out, despite it being a prime piece of real estate. I mean come on, it was usually empty, not to mention dark, plus it came with doors. The seats weren't too bad either. Make-out heaven, really. And yet most students never set foot inside the room if they didn't absolutely have to, which usually meant graduation ceremonies, or if a teacher died. Unless of course you were a member of the New Directions.

The dimly lit space was currently filled with the murmurs of glee-clubbers, sitting comfortably together on the stagefloor. William Schuester, their faculty advisor, was fiddling with an unopened jar of what looked like peanut-butter; a single spoon peaking out of his pants pocket. The mood was somber in light of recent events, and the kids were anxious to know why they had been asked to meet up. The fact that the only adult in attendance hasn't said anything to them yet, wasn't helping their nerves.

Santana Lopez sighed softly, taking a glance around her teammates' tight faces. Whatever the reason for their impromptu meeting, she just wanted it to be over. The waiting around was killing her. A squeeze to her thigh made her look back at the blonde on her right. Brittany Pierce offered her a small snile once she realized she had gained Santana's attention. The latina raised an eyebrow in response.

"Is that a spoon in Mr Schue's pocket, or is he just happy to see us?" The words made her smirk, and she winked at Brittany when she spotted it too.

Kurt Hummel, sitting across from them, watched as the two cheerleaders giggled at their little inside joke, stomache twisting involuntarily. If things had been just a little bit different, especially considering how Santana was practically thrown out of the proverbial closet (and on syndicated television, no less) he wouldn't be seeing that right now. It made him feel even guiltier, because he hadn't thought for one second that the latina might be tempted to end her life, just like he hadn't thought David would go as far as he did either. Yet the truth was, if anyone had reason to want to end their lives, Santana was the prime candidate.

The girl in question sighed in Mr Schue's general direction, clearly impatient. Whatever lameness was about to go down, she really hoped it wouldn't take too long. While her and Karofsky weren't friends, he had been her beard and junior prom date, and a pretty decent fellow Bullywhip. She wanted to check up on him in the hospital before her date with her girlfriend later. God, it felt so good to finally be able to say that out loud! Screw this, I aint gonna hang around all day!

"Uh, mister Schue, what exactly are we waiting for?"

Instead of answering her, the curly-haired glee director waved quarterback Finn Hudson and future star Rachel Berry over, motioning for foreign exchange student Rory Flanagan to move closer and take a seat next to him. "Thanks for being prompt guys," he said to the smiling couple. "I know you're wondering why I called you here, and I'll explain as soon as we're all here."

"Fine," Santana huffed. "Can we wrap this up now that Finchel has deigned to grace us with their nauseating presence?" A sweeping hand gesture accompanied her words. She pinned the smaller brunette with a glare. " I've got better shit to do."

Mr Schue took a deep breath, no doubt gearing up for a long rant about teamwork and being a family that nobody was interested in, but stopped to frown at an oblivious Brittany. The blonde dancer was pouting sadly at her phone. "Brittany, could you please put that down? I really need everyone's attention."

"But Q isn't here yet," she said. "Why won't she pick up her phone, San? Is she mad at me?" She turned sad eyes on her girlfriend, hoping for an answer. San always had an answer.

"Of course not babe," the latina assured her. "Maybe she's in the john or something. Here, lemme try." She took out her own phone, hitting two on speed dial.

"Santana..." Mr Schue tried to intervene. "I'm sure Quinn is on her-"

"Q, what the hell?" Santana interrupted him. "Pick up the damn phone, Tubbers," she growled, scowling in irritation. "If I have to sit through this crap meeting, then so do you."

"Santana!" Mr Schue said sharply, also becoming irritated now. Really, was it so hard to listen to him? "This is important, okay? Now, hang up the phone and pay attention. You can fill Quinn in later."

"NO!" she shouted. The others all drew back almost instinctively, while Brittany grabbed onto Santana's thigh again. She could feel the other girl trembling, and frowned at her in response. The latina took a calming breath, placing her hand reassuringly over Brittany's. "Sorry babe," she whispered to her, trying and failing to offer a smile. "I'm sorry Mr Schue," she added.

"That's okay, Santana," he answered. "Now, if we can all settle down? I wanted to talk to you about what happened with Dave. I want us to be honest about how this affected us, even if we weren't particularly close to him. Because even though it might not feel like it, we are affected by his suicide attempt, and keeping those kinds of feelings inside is never a good idea."

"Easy," Blaine Anderson whispered to Kurt, taking hold of his boyfriend's hand. He had felt the taller boy tense at their teacher's words. Kurt had tearily confessed that he had been ignoring Karofsky's phonecalls, and Blaine knew he felt terribly guilty about it. "I've got you," he murmured.

Mr Schuester continued. "I want you guys to think about the reasons behind Dave's attempt. Then ask yourselves if it was worth giving up the rest of your lives. I guarantee you the answer is no."

"I don't think anyone here has thought about offing themselves, Mr Schue," Sam volunteered hesitantly. "I mean, yeah we're in glee-club, and we maybe get dramatic about stuff, but that's just like being a teenager, right?" He looked around at his fellow teammates, waiting for someone to agree with him.

"I've thought about it," Mr Schue said quietly. He raked his hand through his hair, sighing heavily. He couldn't face any of them, and directed his words to his drawn up knees instead. "I was caught cheating on a midterm, my junior year. Principal called my dad. I just, I couldn't... How could I look him in the eye after that? I had disappointed him."

Noah Puckerman, commonly referred to as Puck, scoffed at his teacher's pathetic story. "Dude, I get caught cheating all the time."

Mr Schue finally looked up at them, smiling wryly at the mohawked boy. "It's not about being caught cheating, Puck. My dad was my hero back then. All I wanted was for him to be proud of me."

"What did you do?" Kurt questioned softly. Somehow, after Santana's outburst about Quinn not answering her phone, they'd started whispering. It felt like something sacred was taking place.

"I ran out of the Principal's office, and up to the school's roof. I actually climbed all the way up to the edge. But I couldn't do it, I couldn't jump. Much as I thought I wanted to. Then I saw my dad's car driving up, and I climbed back down. And I'm glad I did," he smiled at them again. "If I hadn't, I would've missed out on the rest of my life. I wouldn't have met Emma, or any of you. And that would have been a tragedy."

"So," Finn said, squinting at a spot above his head that only he could see, "you want us to think about what we'd be missing if we tried to kill ourselves?" He looked down quickly at Rachel's gasp. "Not that I'm thinking of doing that," he added.

"Good," the tiny diva said. "That's-"

"I want my family to have a real home, that no one could take away from them, ever." Sam Evans was blinking his shiny eyes furiously, desperately trying to stave off his tears. "That's, um, that's what I'm thinking about," he added quietly.

"I'm thinking about why Mr Schue has a spoon in his pocket," Sugar Motta said, smacking her gum and pointing at the chuckling man. "Because if you're thinking of spoonfeeding us, I have to object. Most of these people have cooties. Sorry, Aspergers." She smiled at her teammates apologetically. What? "Germs are really gross, and 'sick' is not a good look on me."

That seemed to lift the heavy mood a little. Everyone traded smiles and eyerolls at the heiress' behaviour.

"I'm looking forward to seeing my kid take his first steps," Artie Abrams offered. "Actually, I'm just looking forward to even having a kid." He could feel himself blushing under his friends' scrutiny, and he adjusted his glasses unnecessarily to regain his composure. "Who's next?" he quickly asked, waving off their attention.

"I'm looking forward to seeing Rachel Berry's kids," Mercedes Jones filled the gap, chuckling as the brunette diva beamed at her and mouthing 'Thank you'. She sobered after a moment though. "I want to win a Grammy for my hit collaberation with Ms Beyonce, that she begged me to do with her."

Kurt shook his head pityingly at his other best friend. "Good luck with that," he teased. "You'll be competing against my duet with Celine." The two hi-fived, before Kurt sighed. "Seriously though, I'm looking forward to watching my dad make a difference in Congress."

Blaine nodded in support of his boyfriend. "And the actualization of marriage-equality in all fifty states," he added sagely. "You're all invited, by the by," he said expansively, waggling his eyebrows at a blushing Kurt. "What?" the former Warbler teased him, "you don't wanna marry me?"

"That's what you're thinking about?" the other boy asked, voice going a little high. He could only smile in response to Blaine's enthusiastic nodding.

"Aww," Rachel cooed, taking in her favourite gays. "That's so sweet you guys." She turned to share a smile with her fiance, before announcing: "I'm looking forward to being friends with all of you for the rest of my life. Even you, Santana," she winked at the other girl.

Santana mockingly clutched her heart. "Just what I've always wanted. Well, that and for my abuela to love me again." The words were said nonchalantly, but everyone knew how much it really meant to the tough girl. Brittany kissed her on the cheek, before checking her phone again.

"I just wish Q wasn't mad at me."

"Baby girl, I'm sure Quinn aint mad at you. Can't nobody be mad at you anyway," Mercedes said, leaning over to hug the pouting blonde. "I'm sure she'll call you back in a bit, just relax okay."

Brittany only shook her head. She had a bad feeling in her stomache, and everyone was talking about what's gonna happen in the future, but no one seemed to care about what's happening right now. She turned to Santana again. "What about New York?" she asked, bottom lip trembling. "Q was in the bathroom a really long time."

Tina Cohen-Chang frowned in confusion. "What?" She exchanged a look with her boyfriend, Mike Chang. "Why are we talking about New York bathrooms? I thought we were focusing on all the reasons to not commit suicide?"

"You don't understand," Puck drawled, pointing at the pair. "My baby mama never ignores a call from Britt."

The girl in question nodded her confirmation, adding a serious " Never ever," complete with accompanying hand gestures.

Puck nodded at her indulgently, before addressing the Asian girl again. "She'll say she can't talk right now or whatever, but she always answers. I don't know what the big deal is about her bein' in the john though," he added thoughtfully. He looked inquiringly at Santana; maybe she got it.

The latina was staring back at him with wide, on-the-verge-of-panicking eyes. "B, try Q's number again." Her voice was uncharacteristically strained, and Puck could feel his pulse picking up. Santana didn't panic, ever. Especially not about Quinn Fabray.

"Maybe she ducked outta classes for the rest of the day?" Sam said uncertainly. "She seemed kinda upset after our meeting earlier," he added, turning towards Mercedes for support.

"Yeah," the black girl said. "That's probably it, and she just doesn't want us to know." She smiled at Brittany again, trying to calm her down."I'm sure whatever it is, she aint mad at you, boo."

The blonde dancer wasn't convinced, however. Didn't any of these people get it? Weren't they Q's friends? Thankfully, Santana was on her side.

"Babe," she said softly, eyes locked on a suddenly squirming Sam, "when was the last time you saw Quinn?" Her growing apprehension was clear for all to see, and a hush fell over the group.

"She was in the God Squad meeting with us earlier, like Sam said," Mercedes offered. "We were gonna take an edible arrangement to the hospital for Dave. But she changed her mind about goin' with after Kurt-" The girl cut herself off to glance at Kurt.

Santana noticed. "After Kurt what? What did you do, Hummel?" She was glaring at the boy, daring him to answer. If he said or did anything to Quinn, she was gonna rip his face off.

Brittany's phone lighting up cut through the rapidly building tension, causing everyone to breathe sighs of relief. "Q!" the blonde called out, smiling widely, fears instantly forgotten.

"See, crisis averted," Sam said to Mercedes, with a wink. He had felt a sinking in his gut for the few seconds that Santana's laser-eyes had been focused on him, almost accusingly. Obviously, whatever the other girl thought had happened to his ex wasn't that serious. It didn't even occur to the football player to wonder why Santana had been so worried.

Despite her appreciation for Sam's humour, the soulful diva's eyes weren't on him right now. She was watching as Brittany listened to the voice on her phone, frowning when the bubbly girl's previous excitement turned into confusion. Her heart lurched when the tears that had been threatening to fall since this stupid meeting started, were finally tracking down pale cheeks.

"Oh no," she breathed. "Oh hell no."