"-you sure one of the brutes didn't harm him at all?" A woman asked.

"Aye, I'm sure. They dinna have a chance to get him," There was a pause from the man. "Ye sure he's right?"

"Yes, just a little shocked. I'll take care of him. You set up the bed in the blue suite," There was silence for a moment and then the woman spoke up again. "He's gone; you can open your eyes."

Kurt realized she was talking to him and tried to do as she suggested. "I don't think I can." The woman chuckled and placed her hand lightly behind his head to help him sit up.

"I'll going to dab your face with water and then you can try again," she said by means of a warning before the cloth touched his face. Kurt was half tempted to tell her not to because that might ruin his complexion and dry out his skin, but the water helped clear his mind a bit more and he slowly opened his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was the room. It was richly decorated in a sea blue color with gold touches and books lining the walls. It was elegant without going into the obnoxious. As his eyes traveled the room he didn't notice the girl sitting to his side until she cleared her throat for his attention. She was very pretty, maybe his age or a little older with sun blonde hair and brown eyes that bordered on green in the lighting. The woman was smiling at him brightly as she wrung out the cloth and reached out to brush his forehead once more. "You had quite the shock earlier. I'm glad Blaine was able to catch up to you, it would have been so tragic to have you fall into those heathens' hands."

"Blaine?" Kurt asked blearily.

The woman waved lightly to the door. "The monsieur who brought you back here after you bolted. You must have had quite a fright, which is understandable why you'd run back to the docks."

Kurt gave the woman a bewildered look and she continued with this excited glint in her eyes. "You're American, no?" Kurt nodded his head, "Well, from what I can gather you must have been stowing away on one of those ships, escaping from America and when you arrived here you were muddled and ended up at my home where Blaine found you," Kurt's thoughts were too disconnected to try to tell her she was wrong, so he nodded absently. His entire body hurt and his limbs felt so weak.

She looked delighted that her idea had been correct and leaned forward, the glint in her eye turning almost manic. "And you're trying to escape for your upper-class father who wanted you to marry when you don't want to. Well, I'm more than happy to let you stay in my humble abode as long as you like," She went on airily and Kurt wondered if the idea of harboring a runaway was what was exciting her so much or if it was something else entirely.

Kurt decided he needed to play along until he figured out what was happening and smiled wearily. His mouth opened and the words slipped out, unrehearsed and honest. Kurt had no idea where this was coming from but he let his thoughts flow. "I'm surprised you guessed my story so quickly."

The woman tilted her head to the side and gave a quaint smile. "It's really not an unusual tale. Many people slip off to here to escape familial obligations. I could tell that you're high class by your clothing, it's very well made and fits you perfectly—but it's not exactly the style now. I'll have Blaine lend you some of his clothes, even if they might not fit as well since Blaine is so much smaller than you."

Kurt was having so much trouble keeping up with this woman. The aching in his body was making his arms feel light, almost like they were going to float away at any moment. It was a disconcerting feeling and he held his arms close to his side as a precautionary measure. "Thank you madam. I appreciate your help but I don't think I even know your name."

She held out her hand and Kurt eyed it for a moment, trying to gauge if he was quite up to taking it. Finally he decided to bite the bullet and reached out for her hand. She gave him a toothy smile and nodded. "Madam Fabray but if you would please call me Quinn. And you are?"

"Kurt Hummel," He pressed a cordial kiss to the back of her hand, the way he'd seen the dandies do in movies then let his hand fall back to the bed, gripping a sheet to stop it from shaking. "I can't thank you enough for your hospitality. I wish I knew how I could repay you for your kindness; I have very little money and all of it is American."

Quinn waved him off with a delicate flick of her wrist and stood, extending her arm for Kurt to take. "You don't have to worry about money. As long as you're here you're a guest and if you wish to be of service you can help Blaine with the home chores," Kurt got out of the bed unsteadily and took her arm, clinging to it as his legs shook a little beneath him. He felt that pressure again, pushing against him, trying to force him to the floor once more.

"I didn't think I'd find such marvelous hospitality when I arrived," Kurt commented, trying to remain in the character that Quinn had inadvertently set out for him. His voice shook with the effort of concentrating on speech while his entire body fought to remain upright.

Quinn shrugged lightly, oblivious to his struggle, and escorted him down the hall all the while not mentioning how he practically use her arm to hold up his entire body. Lightly she pushed open a door to a soft blue room Kurt vaguely remembered looking through on his tour earlier. "I understand how hard it is to be displaced, away from where you're safe," She gave him a wicked smirk. "And anyway I think there's something romantic about harboring runaways."

Quinn stepped away a moment later. "This is where you'll be staying. I'll have Blaine bring you some clothes for later and then in a few days you can accompany me to the tailors and we'll find some clothes for you that are more suited to the style. Dinner will be in the dining room and we will talk more then. Now, I have some business to attend to. If you're feeling well enough you can explore the house, Blaine should be around if you have any questions; I'll send him your way to collect you for dinner." She stepped away from him and curtsied before leaving the room.

The second the door closed Kurt's eased to the bed, his entire body shuddering from the stress. There was pain everywhere, knocking his breath from his lungs. He had no clue how long he sat there as his body shook but finally he gathered his wits and told himself he needed to figure out what was going on. Slowly he got up and glanced out the small window in the corner. The same view greeted him with its cobblestone streets and lanterns blossoming into light as the sun began to set.

As strange and illogical as it seemed Kurt was in 1811 or he was having a really realistic dream that actually hurt him - not the kind of hurt that a person assumes they feel in a dream, but an actual throbbing in his head and arms. He didn't know how he got there or what to do to get back but he knew he needed to find a way. Until then he needed to blend in and not draw attention to himself, the only problem was Kurt knew nothing about history. The good thing was Quinn had set out his cover for him, however inadvertently.

Kurt found it odd that he wasn't more freaked out. He felt tired, yes, so tired that his legs actually gave out on him, but not scared. He supposed that he hadn't given himself enough time to freak out and it would come sooner or later but not quite yet. With shaking body he made his way out of the room and back through the hallway. Everything was new, not yet worn down by centuries of foot traffic or hands touching the wallpaper. So strange.

Carefully Kurt picked his way down the stairs until he was in the main room of the bastide. It was odd not hearing the sounds of honking cars outside but he tried to push that aside and forged on through the multiple rooms of the main floor, each one more elegant than the last. Kurt started making note of the location of different doors to remember. He needed to leave and a voice in the back of his mind told him that he wouldn't be able to leave of his own volition if anyone else knew. Kurt didn't feel safe in this house, no matter how much Quinn promised him he was.

A soft scent wafted through the air, catching Kurt's attention as he investigated the southern parlor of the home. It smelled sweet and made his mouth water. He was reminded then that he hadn't eaten since lunch in 2011 and went in search of the dining room so he would know where to go when dinner came around. He hoped it was soon because he was starving.

As it turned out it wasn't that far off and lavishly decorated like the rest of the rooms. A servant was setting the table with fine china decorated with fine blue illustrations. The man bowed silently to Kurt who awkwardly bowed his head back before slipping off towards a door he'd glimpsed, hidden behind an ornamental screen.

The room behind was a large kitchen and was mainly empty save for a blonde girl in the corner dressing a plate filled with some sort of meat. Kurt moved closer to her and then cleared his throat for attention. She didn't jump at the noise and instead turned around and blinked at him owlishly. "Bonjour," Kurt said lightly, trying to start some sort of conversation.

"Bonjour," the girl replied in a somewhat dreamy voice.

Kurt tried again. "I'm Kurt; you are?"

She stared at him for a moment later before the light bulb seemed to click. "Brittany. You're the ship rat Blaine said was going to stay here." Her French was weak and there seemed to be a bit of an Irish accent hiding in there. "Did you bring the plague with you?"

"Ship rat? Plague?" Kurt asked, feeling incensed at being referred to in those terms. "I can assure you that I am not a rat and I haven't been sick a day in my life," He answered haughtily.

Brittany looked pleased. "That's good. I didn't think you looked like much of a rat. You remind me more of the Wee folk. You're one of them, aren't you?"

"The Wee folk?" Kurt asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. She continued to stare at him excitedly.

"Ach, the wee folk. Sprites and fairies and such," voice said behind Kurt, making him jump and his shoulders tense. Blaine appeared at his elbow a moment later, chuckling. Brittany seemed pleased to see him, a small smile forming on her lips. "Could ye take the food to the table lassie? Madam Fabray wants to start dinner." Brittany nodded and hefted the plate, rounding the men and leaving the room.

Kurt turned to look at Blaine and demanded, "Is she serious?"

"About ye being one of the Wee folk?" Blaine asked, quirking a triangular eyebrow. "Aye. The girl is dear but a little daft. She believes that elves live in my hair," he raised a hand to his mess of curls, grinning good-naturedly. "I find it best to humor the lass." A beat of awkward silence passed before Blaine spoke up again. "Madam Fabray requested that I escort ye to the table. Took me a right time to find ye, are ye sure ye're up to traipsing 'bout the house?"

Kurt ruffled a little at the other man. "Yes, I'm perfectly fine." He ignored the arm that Blaine extended and strutted off through the hidden door to the dining room. Quinn was standing near the doorway, apparently waiting for the two men because when they entered she hurried forward to stand near a chair. Blaine hustled to her side and obediently slid her chair out for her and once she'd settled, pushed it back in before taking his seat at the side of the table. She motioned to a chair across from her and Kurt did as directed.

She said a quick prayer and then said a thank you for bringing a guest into her home. Kurt honestly found it incredibly fishy but said nothing until she was done. Quinn gave him a look as a servant started to parse out the food to each plate. "Now Kurt, tell me about your family," She said, more an order than a request.

Kurt frowned at her silently for a while before murmuring. "I'm not sure if I'm quite ready to give out that information," His eyes slid to the darker haired man off to the side who was studiously not looking at any place other than his plate.

Quinn settled in her seat daintily. "That's quite alright. We'll talk once we get to know one another better," She turned pointedly to Blaine. "Kurt said he would be willing to help you around the house from time to time," Blaine glanced to Kurt with a smile on his face, very light, and nodded slowly. Kurt had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, like something more was going on here. It almost felt like Quinn was using her kindness as a way of guilt tripping him into staying and helping.

Kurt didn't think that he could trust a person who gave up their home and money so easily. There was something very wrong with this whole set up and as much as Kurt was freaked out with his situation, the idea of staying in this house was even weirder. He needed to leave and find someone who could help him.

The rest of dinner was very quiet, no one really saying much to anyone else. Blaine talked to Quinn about the horses and tried to bring Kurt into the conversation. Kurt mainly stayed quiet, smiling softly as comments were directed at him. Blaine was an interesting character to watch. He was animated and the accent added to his air, but Kurt refused to let himself to lose his resolve. He needed to remain cautious, no matter how alluring that damn accent was. Blaine talked with every part of his body; his hands, eyebrows, nose and used them all to illustrate even the most mundane tale.

Kurt wondered what Blaine's story was. He was more than likely the lover mentioned in the plaques and wondered if he and Madam Quinn were involved yet. But why was a Scottish man hiding out in a house in France?

His eyes turned to Quinn, who was another mystery. She was very… strange. Her manners were prim and proper but she had a cynical tilt to her eyes as she watched Blaine speak. Once her gaze turned to Kurt and caught and held him for a moment and Kurt could have sworn she was trying to tell him something, but the connection broke and she looked back to Blaine who commanded her attention.

Dinner finished and Brittany hurried the dishes away with a dazed look. She looked cheerful enough and Kurt wondered if she was one of the people taken in by Quinn or just a simple scullery girl. Judging by the fact she sounded Irish he guessed that she might have a story as well. Quinn finished what she was saying to Blaine before standing. Blaine stood immediately and sent Kurt a glare that obviously meant he needed to do the same.

Kurt got to his feet, feeling incredibly tired. Quinn came around the table and offered her arm to Kurt once more. "I'm sure this must all be so much for you to deal with. A nice long sleep is what you need," she turned to Blaine with a structured nod. "I will see you in the morning Blaine. Sleep well."

Blaine nodded once. "Yes, goodnight Madam Fabray, Laddie," Kurt returned the nod and went up the stairs to the rooms. He brought Quinn to the sea-foam blue room from before, having read that this was the master bedroom on one of the plaques and let go of her arm.

Quickly he threw a smile onto his lips. "Thank you, Quinn, for your hospitality. I only wish I knew how to return the favor."

She brushed him aside. "It is no problem dear. I like taking care of people," Kurt had the feeling that statement wasn't all that true. There was something behind that pretty smile, he could just feel it. And no, he wasn't being paranoid. Something seemed very wrong about this whole situation - besides the obvious.

With a soft curtsey Quinn left him to get settled in his room. There were clothes waiting. A soft undershirt-nightgown and a few flairless pants and shirts, none of them really Kurt's style but they would do. Kurt settled for touring the room, checking out the books that were lining the walls, while he waited for his moment to slip away. Midnight soon came and went and the entire house seemed dead.

Kurt finally acted, dressing in the longest pair of pants in the group and a darker shirt all the while trying not to cringe as the horrible feel of the cloth against his skin. He slipped out of the room and down the hallway to the stairs, keeping his feet at light as possible so as to not make the floors creak. His heart pounded in his chest as he made his way through the darkness.

Within moments the door was in sight and Kurt could almost touch it. He reached out slowly and had just barely grasped the handle when a voice spoke behind him.

"That door is louder than a banshee scream, especially at night. Ye'd be wise to go through one o' the windows if ye're desperate to get out."

Kurt jumped sky high, spinning around to find whoever had spoken. Finally, his gaze landed on Blaine who was silhouetted in the window. "You scared the shit out of me," Kurt hissed venomously.

Blaine chuckled and took a step forward, "I hope not," He fell silent for a moment, obviously waiting for Kurt to speak.

"Did Madam Fabray station you here or something?" Kurt bit angrily.

"No, no. She dinna put me up to anything," Blaine replied, moving closer so that he was more in the shadows.

"Then why are you here? To get me in trouble?" The brunette hissed, feeling trapped.

"Nothing like tha'," Blaine murmured softly. "I'm just here to talk some sense into ye. Ye're obviously out o' yer normal surroundings, I remember that feeling well. But ye're safe here. Madam Fabray has good intentions. She likes to take care o' strays and get them back on their feet. She'll ask nothing from ye."

Kurt stared at the murky shadow of the shorter man. "But don't you think that's strange?" He hissed.

The shadow of Blaine shrugged his shoulders. "Some people have kind intentions. It is just who they are. Madam Fabray is one of them. She's never asked anything o' me and gives me room and board and in return I tend to the house," He was silent for another moment. "If ye wish to leave that's fine. Madam Fabray won't hold it against ye. But, do so in the morn'. The streets are dangerous for everyone once the sun goes down."

Kurt stared hard that the shadow before thrusting his nose into the air. "And I should listen to you, why?"

Blaine chuckled, the dark sound causing a traitorous ripple to run through Kurt's body. "I've been in this city longer than ye have. I know a thing or two. But if ye think ye're up to actually going out there now, then by all means. I'll tell Madam Fabray in the morning that ye've gone."

Kurt glared at Blaine for the longest time, weighing his options. He could leave now and fend for himself in a city he didn't know in a time he doesn't know without obvious shelter. Or he could stay at the bastide where he had food and shelter and references to use when it came to being historically accurate. Finally he gave a dramatic huff and pushed passed Blaine's shadow, stomping back up the stairs.

Down below Kurt heard Blaine chuckle once more and call softly. "G'night laddie," and Kurt bristled again. People shouldn't be allowed to have accents and voices that soft, it seemed indecent and horribly cruel to the people of the world who were attracted to that sort of thing. There was something about Blaine that freaked Kurt out a little, but then again, this entire situation freaked Kurt out. Things like this just didn't happen to nice guys like him.

He made his way back to the room and closed the door softly, breathing an agitated sigh. Kurt just wanted to be home. He wanted this strange dream to end.

A thought struck him then. What if this actually really was a dream and he was just so into it that he needed to actually go to sleep in the dream and that way he'd wake up back in his room in the 21st century. It was strange and the rational part of Kurt's mind told him this wouldn't work but he was desperate to try anything he possibly could to escape this strange dream.

Quickly Kurt slipped into the cool sheets and let out a soft sigh. He curled into a ball and almost immediately he was asleep. The pressure of time and stress had taken a toll on him so it was nice to finally rest. His dreams were muddled and filled with clues that he was sure he wasn't going to remember in the morning. Those dreams were also filled with hazel eyes and dark hands pressed again white silk while a dark voice whirled through his mind and body, causing his breath to come in sharp gasps.

Soft brown eyes watched from the doorway while a pretty, feminine mouth curved into a frown. "I'm so sorry," she whispered before closing the door and making her way to her own room.