They were sitting by the fire of their campsite and watching the sunset fade into blue. Kurt was sitting on the grass, still wet from an earlier rain, and Blaine was sitting on a rolled-up blanket, with another blanket around his shoulders, because Kurt had insisted. Blaine had been feeling a bit under the weather, and Kurt was doing his best to tend to him with warm blankets and hot broth and soothing touches to his cheeks and forehead.

Blaine certainly wasn't complaining.

They had been traveling for almost two weeks, and Blaine finally had to know. Avoiding the question had allowed him to ignore the inevitable, which he was enjoying immensely, but it was something he should probably find out.

"Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"How long...when will the verbena be flushed from your system?"

Kurt fiddled with a blade of grass.

"I don't really know. I've never been given the opportunity to find out. But I've heard it can take a little while."

"Will you know when it happens? Will you be able to tell?"

Kurt smiled slightly, still staring at the blade of grass between his fingers. "Blaine, if you had shackles on your wrists and ankles for five years and then one day someone took them off, would you be able to tell?"

"Oh. It's like that?"

"It's like that."

"Do you remember what it feels like?"

"I remember that it feels more. I remember that it feels less isolated, more like I'm a part of everything around me."

"That sounds incredible."

Kurt sighed, and leaned back on his elbows. "It is."

"When it happens, Kurt, you won't need me anymore. You should probably just..."

"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we?"

Kurt lay back on the grass, knees bent and feet flat on the earth, staring into the fading day. He tucked his hands behind his head. Blaine started to lay back as well, but Kurt glared at him.

"Don't, Blaine. You're already getting sick, and your frail human constitution won't be helped by lying on the cold, damp ground. In fact, you should probably move closer to the fire."

Blaine smiled. He loved how bossily nurturing Kurt had become. He was clearly starting to care about Blaine, though Blaine still didn't know what to make of it.

"Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you something...sort of personal?"

"Have you ever asked me anything else?"

Blaine smiled again.

"Well, before...when you said you were going to get married, it kind of sounded like...well, like the person you were marrying was a man."

Now it was Kurt's turn to smile.

"More like a boy, really, we were so young. But yes. His name was...is...well, his pet name is Firae."

Blaine was silent for a moment, allowing Kurt's words to sink in.

"I...I didn't know that Sidhe did that. Do women marry each other too?"

"Yes, if that's their preference. And men and women too, of course. We don't have the same sort of taboos that you people do. I think that may be your biggest problem, actually."

Blaine laughed bitterly. "Oh, I don't know, Kurt. We have so many problems to choose from."

"Well, yes, but when men don't control women, and love isn't about dominance, and the powerless aren't used to satisfy the repressed cravings of the powerful...well, I think that takes care of a lot of problems right there."

Blaine mulled this over. It seemed too simple to make as much sense as it did.

"The Sidhe aren't perfect, Blaine, and some of our social problems can be almost as disturbing as yours. But no one marries because they need to in order to survive, or in order to be taken care of. It is a choice, and it isn't a choice that everybody makes."

"But it's a choice that you made."

Kurt was silent for a moment.

"Yes," he said, though it didn't sound like a pure yes.

"But...?" Blaine ventured.

"Well...no, we loved each other very much. There was just a bit of pressure for us to marry young. Maybe more than a bit, in fact."

"How come?"

Kurt sighed.

"It's...Sidhe culture is just different, Blaine."

"Do...do you still love him? Firae?"

Kurt looked up at him. "I don't know. It's been years. I don't even know if he's the same. I'm certainly not the same. But he was a dear friend, and we grew up together. I know I still care for him, I just don't...I suppose I don't know what that really means anymore."

Blaine wanted to ask is he handsome? Did he deserve you? Did he make your body shiver when he kissed you? Could you ever love me the way you loved him? Am I less of a man if I hate him a little bit, even if he made you happy?

Instead, Blaine said "I hope you get to see him again." It was a true statement, but just barely.

"Me too," Kurt said longingly, and Blaine looked away and felt like he was being stabbed.

Over the next few days, Blaine's health steadily got worse. When Kurt crept closer to Blaine in the tent one night – as he had found himself doing from time to time – he was startled to hear the loud, shallow wheezing coming from Blaine's throat. He pressed his ear to Blaine's chest and his lungs sounded thick. He touched Blaine's forehead and it felt like fire.

Kurt swallowed hard. Blaine was not well.

The next day Blaine almost fell off the perch while Kurt was driving, and Kurt nearly upended the carriage when he lunged to catch him. Blaine was sweating, and his eyes were glazed, and he was starting to break out in boils. Kurt wrapped him in blankets and carried him to the carriage and folded him onto the seat.

"Kurt? What...where..."

"Just sleep, Blaine," Kurt soothed.

Blaine sighed, and burrowed into the blankets.

"I love you," he murmured, already half asleep.

"I know," Kurt whispered, allowing his hand to linger on Blaine's cheek a little longer than necessary.

When Blaine awoke, Kurt was easing him out of the carriage, looking ready to pick him up again.

"I can walk," Blaine grumbled irritably. "I'm not a baby."

He squinted at the street lamps through the drizzle of rain around him when he climbed down, utterly confused.

"Where are we?"

"We are in V'auda. And we are at an inn. We are going to sleep here tonight."

"Kurt, no. It's too..."

"Blaine, yes. I don't care if it's risky, you aren't well. You need a hot bath and some strong broth and a warm, dry place to sleep. I don't want to hear another word about it."

Blaine groaned, but allowed Kurt to lead him toward the inn. As they approached the door, Kurt hung back deferentially, and cast his eyes to the floor in the manner of a slave.

They walked into a warm and softly lit dining area, where a few men were nursing mugs. One particularly burly man was sitting in front of a pegboard full of keys, his feet up on the table in front of him.

"Pardon me," Blaine rasped, trying to keep his voice steady, "but we...uh, I... would like a room, please."

The man glanced up at them, his eyes settling on Kurt

Blaine was barely holding himself together, but he wanted to gauge the man's eyes out just to eliminate the expression he saw in them. Was this going to happen every time? Was there a decent, moral human man left in all of Villalu?

"Hmmm," said the man lazily, taking in Kurt's beauty and Blaine's desperation. "Thing is, son, I'm not sure we have any rooms open just now."

"But your sign said you had vacancies!"

"Did it, now? Hmm. Must have forgotten to change that."

Blaine shook his head. He really didn't have the energy to deal with this right now.

"Let's go," he muttered, turning to leave.

"Well, now, wait a minute," the man said, enjoying the game. "I think I might have one small room in the back. But it's going to cost you a bit of time with your elf. That's fair, right? See? I'm not a bad sort."

"No," Blaine answered flatly, pulling Kurt toward the door.

"Blaine," Kurt whispered, pulling his arm back slightly. "Stop."

Blaine stopped. He was barely able to walk, let alone stand up, and his chest was heaving with the effort of moving a few paces. Sweat was running down his face, and his lips were distorted with sores.

"Blaine. Just...take the room. We need the room."

Blaine stared at Kurt.

"You can't be serious."

"One last time isn't going to break me, Blaine. Please just let me do this. I'll be...I'll be fine."

"No."

"Blaine, please. I'm not going to watch you die."

"No."

Kurt sighed, and touched Blaine's arm lightly with his free hand. He hated to use this angle, but...

"Blaine, I need you. If anything happens to you, there won't be anyone to protect me. If I have to do this again, I'd rather it be for one night than...I can't be a slave again, Blaine. I can't."

Blaine let go of Kurt and strode to the innkeeper as fast as his straining lungs would allow him.

"I'll pay double the rate."

"I believe I already named my price."

"Triple."

"Son, what is it with you? You sweet on your slave or something? I'm offering you-"

"JAREN!"

The innkeeper swiveled around just in time to be smacked upside the head by an older woman with wiry gray hair and eyes like steel. He flinched.

"What in hell's name do you think you're doing?" She stared at Kurt with disgust. "You want a slave, you get up off your ass and work for a change, and you buy yourself a damn slave. If you give away one more room for free, just because you can't stop thinking with your cock for five minutes..."

"Ma! Come on! I wasn't really going to..."

"Get your ass in the back!" She spat. "Do something useful for a change!" She gave him another solid smack to the back of his head, causing him to yelp and scurry away.

"Now," she said, fixing Blaine with a shrewd eye. "I believe I heard you say something about paying triple our usual rate."

Blaine collapsed onto the floor.

Kurt ran to him, kneeling down to feel his pulse. It was steady. Shakily, Kurt rose to his feet.

"Ma'am," he said, staring humbly at the floor. "I apologize for addressing you directly, but my master is very, very ill and I need to tend to him. I assure you that he will be happy to pay triple your usual rate, and I would like to request a hot bath and some supplies so that I may attend him, which he will of course pay for as well."

The woman took a split-second to glower at Kurt before addressing the semi-conscious heap on the floor.

"Tell your elf to make a list of the supplies you need, and I'll send up a girl. That is, if it can write."

Yes it can, you miserable wench, Kurt thought.

"That won't be a problem. Thank you," is what he said.

"We have a suite with a private bath," she said, continuing to pretend she was addressing Blaine instead of Kurt. "There's even a pump installed, feeds the bath from an underground hot spring. Isn't cheap, though. And at triple rate..."

"He'll take it," Kurt said, working very hard to sound calm.

"Very well. Follow me."

Kurt scooped Blaine up and followed the woman. Blaine didn't complain about being carried this time, but he did whimper slightly.

His pulse had started to fade.

When they had been shown to their room, Kurt put Blaine down on the bed and quickly drew up a list of supplies that they would need. He handed it to the older innkeeper, and she snatched it away, refusing to look at Kurt, and left without a word.

Kurt started the bath and then went down to the stables to fetch some particular herbs from the carriage.

When he returned, the supplies he had requested had been placed in a neat pile on top of the dresser, and a young girl was in the process of building a fire. She only turned to look at Kurt briefly before finishing her task.

When the bath was ready, Kurt undressed Blaine carefully, trying not to let his eyes linger. It was completely inappropriate, given the situation, and Blaine had been nothing but respectful and a complete gentleman to Kurt...

He did let his eyes linger. But only a little.

When Kurt eased him into the bath, Blaine's eyes opened, and he gazed up at him adoringly. He didn't speak, but he continued to stare at Kurt as he bathed him, his fever-bright eyes full of wonder.

After his bath, Kurt dried Blaine off and slipped him into a soft linen dressing gown. He gently placed him on the bed.

Kurt was preparing the broth when he heard a crash behind him.

Blaine had collapsed on to the floor again.

And this time he had completely lost consciousness.

He wasn't asleep. He wasn't half-conscious. This wasn't temporary. His pulse was faint and he was barely breathing.

Kurt had exactly one option left, or Blaine was going to die.

Kurt felt himself shaking. If he did this...would Blaine know? What would he do? How would it change things?

It would change everything.

But if he didn't do it, Blaine was going to die.

Kurt sat down on the floor, and gathered Blaine in his arms.

He kissed his forehead.

Then Kurt closed his eyes, and let out a deep sigh. Pounds of tension fell from his shoulders, and his skin began to glow.

And every place where his skin touched Blaine's began to glow too. At first the glow was soft, like diffused sunlight, and then it began to pick up depth and richness. As it enveloped them, it deepened into amber and then shifted, finally settling on a vibrant leaf green.

The room smelled like a forest in springtime.

They were buried inside it, and it was buried inside them. The glow permeated Blaine's organs, gently nourishing them with pure, clear, concentrated vitality. It sunk into his skin, drawing out the poison and replacing it with roiling life. It chased the darkness away, and bathed every cell in light.

When he awoke the next morning, Kurt sleeping sweetly beside him, Blaine had never felt better in his life.