Blaine was the perfect son for four days. He ran exactly six miles every morning, ate breakfast with his mother, discussed college possibilities and watched the news with his father, took his dog for walks, mowed the lawn, went to work, and he did it all with a smile. He even went out of his way to set up a meeting with some colleague of a colleague who knew the New York Associate's brother from Princeton. Blaine hadn't really followed the connection, but he'd set up the coffee meeting anyway, knowing his father would be pleased. On the fifth morning of his detainment to his house, he went out to the garage in his new dress shirt and tie to ask his father to play chaeuffeur.

His father was dressed quite the opposite- his shirtsleeves were rolled up past his elbows and his arms were streaked with grease. He was working on the '59 Chevy. Blaine had come to resent the thing, but he did his best to not give it any looks of disdain as he waited for his father's attention. His father was trying to uncoil a new extension cord, plucking at the plastic band that held it firmly in it's wrapping. He glanced over Blaine. "You look good, kid."

Blaine glanced down at the pine green tie and white shirt. He nodded his thanks and watched his father struggle with the cord. "Need a hand?"

"What I need is a pair of scissors." His father grumbled, still pulling at the plastic with little success.

Blaine reached into his pocket and offered a red Swiss army knife.

His father took it, but didn't immediately cut the plastic loose. He studied the knife with something akin to a smile. "You still carrying this thing around?"

"You gave it to me." Blaine smiled and shrugged. His father had given him the knife when he came home from a business trip two days late for Blaine's twelfth birthday. He'd told him it was a gift for a man, not a little boy, and to take care of it. He had kept it in his pocket almost every day since then.

His father studied it for a moment more before flipping out the thickest blade and slitting the plastic cord easily. He folded it back up and handed it back. He studied his son for a moment, lost in thought.

Blaine shifted from foot to foot, not liking the combination of the summer sun and his tie so tight around his neck. "Could you give me a ride to the coffee shop? I don't think it will take long, and mom's at her yoga thing."

John dug in his pocket and handed the keys over to Blaine. "Go ahead and take yourself."

Blaine nodded. "Thanks."

Before he could leave the garage, his father called after him. "And Blaine."

Blaine turned and instinctively caught what his father threw to him. It was his phone. He looked up at his father, not daring to ask the question that immediately came to his mind.

"You can go see your friend after your interview. Be back for dinner." His father wiped his arms on a dirtied rag.

"Thank you, sir." Blaine broke into a genuine smile and went to his car with an extra spring to his step. As soon as he was in his car, he turned up the air conditioning and dialed the first number that came to mind.

"I almost didn't recognize your name on my caller ID."

Blaine wanted to laugh for sheer joy at the sound of that voice. "I almost forgot your number. Thank God for a contacts list."

"Very funny." Blaine could hear the disdain in Kurt's voice and ached to be in his presence.

"So, I was a very good boy, and I have car and phone privileges back." Blaine glanced at the address he had written down for the place he was supposed to be meeting the colleague of a colleague. He really should have tried figuring out this guy's name before he was supposed to meet him for the interview… Bryan? Brad? Something with a B he was fairly sure…

"Are you still there?" Kurt sounded confused.

"Sorry, temporary distraction." Blaine turned onto the street the coffee shop was allegedly on.

"Something that distracts you more than me?" Kurt said, his voice sulky.

"Only very momentarily. I'm coming to see you this afternoon though, at which point there will be nothing that will be able to take my attention away from you." Blaine pulled into the little parking lot and checked his hair in the rearview mirror.

"Oh good, someone else to smother me," Kurt said sardonically, but then he added with a coy note, "I have a surprise for you."

"I need no surprises, just you." Blaine sat back in his seat for a moment, enjoying the familiar playful banter.

"Well lucky for you, you're getting both."

"I look forward to it. Listen, I gotta run, but I'll be in as soon as I can. Love you." Blaine had spied a man in a business suit at a table near the front window that he assumed was his contact.

He hung up, checked his hair one more time, straightened his tie, and made for the door.

The interview was a blur of pleasantries, questions about academics and extra-curriculars, plans for his major, and a few questions about current events. Blaine was anxious to get to the hospital as soon as he could, but he answered all of Greg's (apparently he'd been way off about the B name tangent) questions politely, asking a few of his own and admiring the pictures Greg had in his wallet of the fish he'd caught deep sea fishing two weeks earlier in Mexico. When the interview ended, Blaine had to keep himself from rushing to the door.

"An impressive resume, Mr. Anderson. If you keep up the good work, I'm sure Princeton would love to have you as an addition to the student body." Greg clapped him on the arm and offered his business card.

Blaine took it, insisted on paying for their coffee, and left as casually as he could. Once on the road though, he broke every speed limit and he was fairly sure rolling stop signs was at least frowned upon, but he didn't care. Greg wasn't there to judge him on his driving.

He hurried up the stairs to the third floor, but was intercepted by Rose- she had Winnie the Pooh scrubs on that day. She directed Blaine up another floor to J241; Kurt had been released from ICU and sent to a general ward. Blaine's happiness only increased at the news. He jogged up the extra flight of steps toward the new room, but when he turned down the hallway he saw Burt and a police officer. Burt was shouting.

Blaine waited a good twenty feet away, his hands in his pockets, while he waited for someone to take note of his presence.

The officer noticed him first, and upon seeing his focus broken, Burt turned toward Blaine too. His yelling came to an abrupt stop. He cleared his throat, "Hey, Blaine, nice to see you again. Go ahead and go in and see Kurt."

Blaine nodded, "Thank you, sir."

He moved quickly past the two men and slipped through the door; as soon as it clicked shut, the heated discussion outside resumed.

Kurt wasn't in the hospital bed. He was seated in a chair by the window, his right arm in a sling for his collarbone and his ankle in a boot, but he otherwise looked… entirely himself. He was even dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a maroon t-shirt.

Kurt whistled and appraised Blaine, "If I had know we were dressing up for this little rendezvous, I would have had one of the nurses help me put something more dashing on."

Blaine glanced down at his tie and shrugged. "College interview. And you look as adorable as ever."

"Already? For where?" Kurt studied Blaine. He looked…. Altered somehow. Not the same boy who had disappeared around the corner nearly a week ago.

"It was some friend of a friend of a brother of a cousin type thing for Princeton," Blaine shrugged and then grinned, "Enough about that; look at you, sitting up and out of bed and everything."

Kurt waggled his eyebrows and smiled coyly, "That's not all."

Blaine remained where he was and watched as Kurt struggled for a moment, but then- with a little wobbling- got to his feet. Blaine applauded and let out a relieved laugh, "I wasn't serious about you being back on your feet by the time I got back in here, you know; you've outdone yourself yet again, Mr. Hummel."

Kurt smiled, "I'd come over to you or take a bow or something, but I can't do much more than stand here for about a minute."

"That's a hell of a lot better than where you were last time I was in," Blaine closed the space between them, "Besides, I can always come to you."

Kurt braced himself on Blaine's shoulder to lean in for a kiss. He'd missed that familiar taste. Missed that familiar smell. When he pulled away, he lifted the tie to hold it close to Blaine's face, "I don't think I could have picked a color to go better with your eyes myself."

Blaine grinned, "Coming from you, that is one hell of a complement."

He helped ease Kurt back down into his chair before going to retrieve one for himself. He dragged it close enough so that he and Kurt's knees were touching. They stared at one another, grinning like fools, before Kurt finally spoke up, "So what elicited the grounding of Blaine Anderson?"

"I have attitude problems." Blaine smiled.

"What kind of attitude problems?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.

Blaine shook his head and shrugged, "They're in the past; apparently I've reformed enough to be freed from detainment. How have you been?"

"Good. Mercedes and Rachel have been in almost everyday. Nadia stopped by; she's in the middle of some dance thing—I don't think she even drinks right now."

"She turns into a dance Nazi." Blaine shrugged. The shouting in the hallway had momentarily grown louder.

Kurt glanced toward the closed door before studying Blaine again, "I've had a lot of time to think mostly."

"Any ground breaking revelations?" Blaine smirked.

"Sort of…" Kurt stared into Blaine's eyes…why did they remind him of the day they were in the park? "There's something… different about you."

"Me?" Blaine raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Kurt nodded slowly, still looking Blaine over for some hint of what didn't feel right, "How have you been doing this week?"

"I sleep, I eat; I work," Blaine winked, "Good as I've ever been."

That was it. Kurt scrutinized Blaine's face. No tension, no nightmares locked just behind those hazel irises; there was only his mentor from the first day at Dalton. All smiles and reassurances and eyes that told him nothing. He kept his voice light, "You sleep now?"

Blaine nodded, "A very healthy seven to eight hours a night. I told you, I've been a very good boy."

"Your nightmares just went away?" Kurt said cynically.

Blaine shrugged, still smiling, "Just a little mind over matter. Yeah, I sleep great."

"If all you had to do was will them away, they would have been gone a long time before this, Blaine." Kurt touched a hand to his lover's knee.

"Would you feel better if I had the occasional bad dream rather than just go cold turkey on them?" Blaine raised an eyebrow, but his smile faltered.

"You know I didn't mean it like that… I'm glad you're sleeping, but… where'd this all come from so suddenly?" Kurt didn't miss the way Blaine's knees moved a centimeter or two away from his own.

"I'm getting pulled in a few too many directions right now, Kurt," Blaine frowned for the first time since he'd entered the room, "You want me to be happy and not beat myself up, and then you want me to stop acting so happy. Which would you prefer?"

"Blaine, please don't get mad at me." Kurt frowned sadly; this conversation was only going to get uglier.

Blaine sat quietly for a moment before smiling again slightly, "I'm not mad, I just don't really know what you want from me right now, Kurt."

Kurt sat back in his chair; his eyes went to the window to study the blue skies outside. He was silent.

Blaine pulled at his tie- suddenly a little too tight- and listened to the sound of the voices outside. He motioned with his free hand toward the noise, "What's that all about?"

Kurt looked toward the door again and then down at his lap. "Did you know they had Eric in custody?"

Blaine shook his head, careful to keep his features neutral.

"They had to turn him loose." Kurt ran a finger over the seam line of his sling.

"What? Why?" Blaine frowned, trying to quell a familiar sense of dread.

"Well… they had him on aggravated assault, but they can't charge him with it." Kurt was still staring intently toward his lap.

"What do you mean he can't be charged with it? He almost killed you."

"Well, yes, but… to be charged with aggravated assault, he would have to have been the one to initiate the attack."

"What are you saying?" Blaine studied him suspiciously.

"Blaine, I attacked him." Kurt sighed.

"You. You went out of your way to attack Eric Marlow."

"I told you it wasn't your fault." Kurt said softly.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Blaine's chair scraped against the linoleum as he abruptly rose to his feet, his anger too much for him to remain seated.

"I was just-"

"They could have killed you, Kurt! They could have fucking done anything to you, and you searched them out and fucking attacked them; you promised me you would leave this alone!" Blaine was shouting.

"Technically, I never actually promised you that," Kurt flinched at the sound of Blaine's voice, "And I didn't go looking for them. I went for a drive to clear my head after I left your house, and they were just there."

"So you decided it would be a real fine idea to go socialize?" Blaine snapped, pacing the room to try and calm himself, "Jesus, Kurt."

"I was going to just leave, I swear I was," Kurt closed his eyes for a moment, sickened by the thought of how close he had come to avoiding all of this, "But Eric, he… he said some things about you, and I was so lost about how to help you, and those things he said, I guess I just sort of snapped…"

"What things he said?" Blaine suddenly stopped his pacing on the other side of the room, "What the hell could he possibly say to prompt you to think you could actually take on four guys twice your size?"

Kurt had spent much of his time over the past few days thinking about the boy who was absent from his bedside; working out the puzzle pieces as his body healed and his mind cleared. The more he thought, the more things fell into place, and the more things fell into place, the uglier the image has become. And now, staring at those guarded eyes, Kurt saw the finished picture, "Blaine."

Blaine swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment, already pulling himself back together, "I'm sorry, I just can't stand the idea of them hurting you, and the idea of you walking right into it-"

"Blaine." Kurt repeated softly. He could feel his heart beating hard against his mending ribs.

Blaine looked at Kurt expectantly.

"Blaine, I'm going to ask you something," Kurt kept his eyes on Blaine's, "And I need you to answer me."

Despite the distance already between them, Blaine took a step away from Kurt, sensing something dangerous. Something that shouldn't be touched.

Kurt ignored Blaine's small retreat, "Blaine, do you remember the first day we talked after I woke up?"

Blaine didn't move at first, but then nodded slowly.

"You asked me if… if they had done more than just hit me." Kurt swallowed hard.

Blaine was backing away again, already shaking his head.

"Blaine, did they do more than… hit you?"

Blaine clasped his hands over his ears, "God dammit, Kurt. Why does it have to be you?"

Kurt fell mute, watching Blaine as his hands moved from his ears to his eyes.

Blaine's hands dropped from his face, and he stared down at the floor. He was silent for a long time before his voice finally came, all of the previous anger gone, "Did you know I used to act?"

Kurt was caught off guard, but he nodded slowly.

"I was good," Blaine looked up, but not at Kurt, he gazed around the room, "I was really good."

"Blaine, I-"

Blaine ignored Kurt and moved toward the open bathroom door to study his reflection in the mirror on the back of the door. He cinched his tie back up and stared into his own eyes, "When I went to Dalton; that was my ultimate acting project—did you ever read The Impressionist for school?"

Kurt's voice came out in a whisper, "No."

Blaine didn't seem to care; he turned to face Kurt, "I was going to be Jonathan Bridgeman. The final and most perfect impression of them all."

Kurt was frightened watching Blaine smooth his tie; his eyes focused on nothing.

"I pulled it off, too. For a year and a half, I was everything anyone could ever hope for me to be," Blaine flashed Kurt his mentor smile, "I did exactly what I was supposed to do, and I did it with a smile… And then there was you."

Kurt flinched at the tortured look on Blaine's face.

"You were going to be the piece de resistance on my character. I was going to prove I could leave my past behind me and even fix somebody else up along the way." Blaine dragged a hand through his hair, his curls coming loose from their neat styling. "But that's not how things went at all, was it?"

Kurt swallowed hard, but said nothing.

"The way you would look at me from that very first day… no one had ever looked at me like that. Like I was worthy of someone's adoration, like everything I had worked toward was finally paying off." Blaine's eyes settled on the black screen of the heart rate monitor for a moment. "I was so sure there was nothing left of me under the mask I created, but then- seeing you do Blackbird, and kissing you, and just being with you—I couldn't tell where the lies stopped and reality started and it all started to blur together and things started coming out…and then the nightmares came back. I couldn't let some things in and keep other things out."

When Blaine turned to look at him again, Kurt felt the need to turn away from those lost eyes.

"I tried. I'm still trying, but you have to stop asking so many questions, Kurt. You are the one thing I can't get right when you keep asking me to tell you something, tell you something, tell you something. I can't do it." Blaine looked at himself in the mirror again.

Kurt was acutely aware of the silence, his father and the policeman had apparently moved elsewhere with their dispute. He kept his voice level as he stared at Blaine's eyes in the glass. "I'm going to keep asking, Blaine."

"Kurt, please." Blaine's eyes moved from his own reflection to Kurt's in the mirror.

"I need you to tell me the truth, Blaine, no more masks and no more running." Kurt's voice wavered.

"It's in the past; it's over now." Blaine was mumbling and shaking his head, his eyes leaving the silvery glass in front of him.

"Blaine. Tell me. I need to hear you say it." Kurt raised his voice in a desperate attempt to break down the wall Blaine was slowly putting back up between them.

"Why? Why can't we just pretend?" Blaine snarled, abruptly pivoting on his heel to glower at Kurt.

"Blaine." Kurt said, his tone a flat warning; he used all of his effort to mask the hysteria he felt rising in his throat.

"What the fuck do you want me to say?" Blaine was screaming, his eyes gleamed with unshed tears.

"You know, Blaine, you know!" Kurt screamed back, ignoring the hurt it caused in his chest. He clumsily got to his feet, somehow feeling more authoritative when he wasn't staring up at the other boy.

Blaine needed out. He needed out now. He started pacing again. "Kurt, leave it the fuck alone. Why can't you ever just leave these things alone?"

"Blaine, say it!" Kurt caught hold of Blaine's arm as he moved past him.

When Blaine tried to recoil from the hold, Kurt freed his arm from the sling despite the screaming protest of his clavicle, and grabbed a hold of Blaine's other arm. Blaine glared at him with such ferocity that Kurt nearly dropped his hold. "Let me go."

"No," Kurt said through gritted teeth, "We're done playing this game."

Blaine's expression went from angry to frantic. He couldn't shove Kurt away without hurting him, but he couldn't stand to be so close to that familiar presence, that presence that kept chipping away at his carefully constructed character. He couldn't keep mentally backing away with that body so near his own and he knew it, "Please, Kurt, please."

Kurt stared into Blaine's eyes and had a momentary flashback to the night in the back lot of the park.

"It's that look he gets. You know the one—his 'pretty, pretty please just let me go' face."

Kurt saw it there now; Blaine's eyes- desperate and broken. He pulled the other boy closer against him. "I won't let you go."

Blaine suddenly seemed to forget Kurt's broken body; he struggled hard, his voice tense, "Kurt. Let. Me. Go."

Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine even tighter, his mouth pressed close to his ear. "I will not let go."

Blaine continued to fight the hold around him, but now his body was shaking too, dulling the impact of his struggle, and a voice in his head screamed so loud he was afraid it might actually break loose.

"There is nothing you can say and nothing you can do that will make me let go of you. Not now. Not ever. For as long as this thing keeps dragging you under, I will keep pulling you up. I'm going to ask you one more time," Kurt kept his mouth beside Blaine's ear; his voice was even, "Did they rape you, Blaine?"

Blaine stilled in his struggles, but his body trembled against Kurt's.

"Blaine." Kurt murmured in his ear.

"Yes." His voice was a shuddery whisper.

There was the briefest suspension in time-- a momentary intake of breath-- and then reality crashed down on top of them.

Blaine's knees buckled, and Kurt slowly sank to the ground with him, still holding him close as sobs racked his body. Blaine gripped a handful of Kurt's shirt, not sure of how to hold onto anything else in that moment.

"Oh God," Blaine couldn't remember the last time he had cried, though he knew he'd never allowed himself to shed tears over this, and now-- collapsed in Kurt's arms-- he cried harder than he could ever remember crying. His entire body hurt with it, "Oh God."

Kurt did not attempt to hush him. This hurt had been quiet long enough. He let Blaine fall apart on his shoulder, the only comfort he could think to offer was to hold him tighter. He didn't care about his screaming ribs and burning shoulder as he crushed Blaine's body close to his own; broken bones could be soothed later.

Some things hurt worse.