"I hate motoring." Trent said decisively.

Blaine looked at his high school friend, chuckling, and glanced over at Thad, who was laughing too.

One of the best things about coming back to New York to be with his family for a while was reconnecting with old friends. Word had quickly gotten out in their circles that he had actually survived Titanic, and letters had poured into the hotel.

"I hate motoring with you! You have the worst sense of direction, and no mechanical skills. If you own a car, you need to know how to keep it running." Thad chimed in.

Trent shot his friend an unimpressed look. "Well, I'm going to get rid of the car. It's more work than it's worth."

"Really?" Blaine sat up straighter. "It's a Model T, right? Maybe I'll buy it off you."

Taking a long sip of his milkshake, Trent nodded at Blaine. "Yeah, it's about a year old. I'll give you a good deal on it. Just don't blame me if it breaks down during trips. Cars are just unreliable."

Blaine grinned widely. "I know, I know. I did a lot of road trips in the last year, and you definitely have to carry tools and coveralls with you. I'm pretty good at basic maintenance now."

Thad put down his cheeseburger. "I don't mind that part of it, but I get tired of getting lost all the time. You practically need ten maps and a navigator to get anywhere."

Blaine nodded, having gotten lost many, many times. Roads were poor quality and rarely signed. Anyone who wasn't a local had a hard time driving very far.

"But doesn't it feel like everyone is buying cars lately? Some people say they are going to replace horses and trains completely." Trent shook his head, his expression unbelieving.

Grinning, Blaine could only shake his head at his old friends. "Everyone you know! You two come from rich families and have rich friends. I've spent enough time around ordinary people to know for most people, a car would be impossible to afford."

"Henry Ford says he wants the Model T to be affordable for everyone. He’s already brought the price down 50%." Trent argued back, seeming a little affronted that Blaine pointed out their wealth like he wasn't from a wealthy family too.

Blaine nodded, thinking. "Well, I can see cars becoming really popular if the price comes down and roads improve." He turned to Trent. "Would you really sell me your car? I'd like to drive the Lincoln Highway, all the way to San Francisco."

"You're nuts!! That would take you months!" Thad laughed.

Trent held out his hand, and Blaine shook it. "Deal, Blaine. But I bet you'll want to sell the damn thing before you make it to Pennsylvania."

Blaine just chuckled, and they went on to talk about other things.

---

"Oh Crap!" Blaine grumbled as he pulled the car over to a flat section on the side of the road and scrambled into the backseat.

He fumbled with the folded up top, pulling on its structural bows. Already, the vinyl was getting wet and his fingers were slipping. With a big pull, he got it halfway up, and shifted to the front seat to pull it into place, fastening it to the windscreen.

Panting, Blaine looked around and could only laugh. Everything was soaked; his clothes, his hair, the seats of the car. Outside wasn't much better. The deluge of rain was still coming down heavily, and the road was looking like a huge mud puddle.

There was a bit of wind, and the open sides of the car let the rain in. Digging around in his supplies in the backseat, Blaine pulled out a folded up canvas and stepped out into the rain.

It took a lot of maneuvering, but he was able to drape the material over the car, covering the open sides, and just leaving a crack open for fresh air. Blaine got some rags and dried off the seats as well as he could.

Looking down, his shirt was plastered to his body and dripping. His fingers were wet, and it took a while to undo his buttons. Stripping right down, Blaine took a deep breath before he stepped out into the rain.

Laughing, Blaine closed his eyes and tilted his face up. The rain poured down, soaking him thoroughly in seconds. He felt crazy and free; standing naked and wet in the rainstorm, mud squishing between his toes.

Reaching into the car, he pulled out a bar of soap, and rubbed the lather over his skin. There was no one around for miles, as he finished washing and worked on his hair. Rinsed clean, he sat down on a towel on the car seat, sticking his muddy feet outside the canvas curtain until they were rinsed off too.

He shivered a little as he toweled dry and got into clean clothes. It would be nice to start a fire to warm up and to cook a hot meal, but he doubted he'd find dry wood anywhere now. Moving things around, he was soon stretched out on the back seat wrapped in blankets. The rain had eased to a steady pitter-patter against the canvas, and he ate a cold meal of bread, cheese and apples.

Hopefully, the rain would ease up and the road wouldn't be too muddy in the morning. He needed to get into a town soon to stock up on gas and food.

He felt good. This trip had been hard, really tested him, but he had been able to rise to the challenges. When problems occurred, he had no choice but to deal with them. It wasn't the first night he had camped out in the middle of nowhere.

---

Blaine signed his name with a bit of a flourish, and passed the registry book back to the hotel clerk.

"Thank you, Mr. Anderson." The clerk was professional enough to not give Blaine's appearance any lingering looks. He scooped up the key and paperwork, passing them over the counter.

Blaine accepted everything. "I understand there is a barbershop in the hotel. How late is it open?"

"Thirty more minutes, sir."

Nodding, Blaine turned to the bellhop. "Would you take my luggage up to the room? I’ll go up after I get a haircut and shave." After years in the hotel business, he felt comfortable directing the staff here too.

The uniformed man nodded, taking Blaine's bag.

An hour later, Blaine stepped out of a long, hot shower and dried off. Looking in the steamy mirror, he smiled. It felt good to look more like himself again. He had been a bit of a wild man the past little while.

Slipping on his suit, Blaine looked quite respectable. Perhaps a little more tanned, and his hair was curly instead of slicked back.

Taking the elevator down to the elegant lobby, Blaine was pleased when a tall man walked over to him, his customary smirk in place.

"Killer! You're looking good." Sebastian leaned in for a firm hug, his green eyes appreciative as they scanned over Blaine.

Blaine smiled back at his old school friend. "It's good to see you too, Sebastian. Shall we head into the restaurant?"

Attentive staff soon had them seated and wine poured out. "So, I hear from everyone that you are making quite the name for yourself out here."

Sebastian grinned, looking pleased. "Well, there is plenty of work here. There were 38 people murdered in Little Italy alone in a one year period."

"But I've heard it been hard to get convictions in those cases." Blaine shook his head. The world was changing so fast. New York was just as bad as Chicago for violent crimes.

Shrugging, Sebastian took a sip of his wine. "Most of it is done by professionals. People are too afraid to identify the killers, even when they are shooting people down on the streets."

"Were you with the Public Defenders office when that fingerprint conviction came through?" Blaine asked, trying to remember if Sebastian was out of school by then.

Shaking his head, Sebastian looked impressed that Blaine had brought it up. "No, I was in my last year of law then. But it was discussed a lot in my classes. It is great that the courts are finally recognizing the value of this evidence. It's far more reliable than eye-witness testimony."

Their server brought their first course, and Blaine dug into his shrimp, savoring the perfectly prepared dish.

Sebastian chuckled at the look of bliss on Blaine's face. "Should I leave you alone with your food? It looks like I'm intruding in something intimate here."

Blaine smiled back. "Sorry. I've been roughing it for a couple months, eating campfire food, simple stuff. Even when I go into a town for a meal, it's usually just at a greasy spoon. Nothing as good as this."

"Trent mentioned something about that in a letter. You bought his Tin Lizzie and you are playing at being a grand explorer or something?" Sebastian looked amused at the idea.

Blaine flushed slightly at the look. It was the same look his parents and friends in New York had given him, when he had left there. He sighed, searching for the words to explain it.

"Sebastian, have you ever had a moment when you look around at your life, with the eyes of an outsider, and it all just seems so surreal? Like we are all characters doing our part in some elaborate play?" Blaine asked softly, fiddling with the stem of his wine glass.

Sebastian's eyebrows rose slightly at that, and the teasing glint in his green eyes faded. He looked at Blaine, searching, assessing, and then leaned back in his chair. "I have, actually. But the Blaine I knew back in prep school certainly wasn't looking at the world that way. When did things change for you?"

"Titanic." Blaine said simply, and met Sebastian's gaze steadily, letting him see the emotions that word raised so easily. That fateful voyage had changed him in so many fundamental ways. 

Sebastian nodded. "For me, it was being discovered with a boy by my father. We were only fourteen, only kissing and touching a little, but his reaction was volcanic. He beat me, black and blue, calling me the worst names imaginable. I was sent to Salisbury after that."

"An all boys school?" Blaine couldn't help but see the irony of that.

Sebastian let out a scoff, and shook his head. "Yeah, he probably should have sent me to a convent to really keep me out of trouble." The smirk returned a little, and it reminded Blaine of all the stolen moments he had shared with Sebastian. His first kiss. So many other firsts.

"You always seemed older than the rest of us, more worldly." Blaine said, thinking back on those days.

Sebastian finished his steak tartar. "Well, I had been to France to visit relatives most summers. But that, that...incident," his mouth tightened as he struggled to find the word for it. "It changed me, deep inside. I didn't see the world the same way after that."

Blaine nodded, feeling something inside him loosen. "Yes, exactly. I was injured on Titanic, and woke up in a regular hospital, with nothing. I looked around, and when they asked me my name, I gave a made-up one." It had happened without conscious thought, feeling numb and detached from everything.

Their main courses came, and Blaine dug into his porterhouse.

"I found you have to make a choice at some point. You can stay in that world, playing your part, or you leave, and forge your own path. It's hard leaving. There's safety and financial security with the herd." Sebastian took a bite of his salmon.

Blaine looked at Sebastian, dressed in a fine suit and showing every sign of a man with connections, a man from a good family. "You seemed to have the best of both worlds."

Sebastian chuckled, a bit drily. "Dear old Dad is back in New York. Being out here gives me enough distance to live as I want, make my own career. But Daddy is dreadfully afraid of my little secret coming out, so he sends me cheques quarterly to keep things discrete."

"Isn't that basically extortion?" Blaine chuckled, as he sipped his wine.

Tilting his head to the side slightly, Sebastian gave a wicked grin. "That's quite an evil word for having my father's loving support."

Blaine could only smile back at his old friend. There was a worldly cynicism behind the flirting and teasing, a jaded darkness that probably helped him understand his prey. Think like a criminal to catch them, convict them.

"So, what about you, Blaine? You shocked everyone by showing up, after living on your own for over a year. What now?" Sebastian leaned back as the server cleared their plates away, his eyes scanning over the man's ass in his tight uniform with an appreciative eye.

Blaine saw the look and chuckled. It was good talking with Sebastian after all these years. They came from similar families, had gone to the same school. Both had to hide their sexuality. But Blaine felt he could truly understand what he was going through now.

Sighing, Blaine sipped his water. "I feel caught between two worlds, not really fitting into either one anymore. Being back in New York, it was nice seeing everyone again, catching up, but after a few weeks, the whole thing felt stifling. It felt like I was playing the rich kid role."

Sebastian was listening attentively, nodding for Blaine to continue.

Biting his lip, Blaine could feel his emotions bubbling up. "I was in love with someone...a performer. I travelled with his vaudeville group for months, but he ended things between us. I didn't fit into his world either."

"He said that?" Sebastian seemed surprised.

Blaine nodded. "Well, he could tell I was just coasting along, not really engaging deeply with things."

"So, you feel kind of lost between the two worlds? Is that why you are driving all over the place? Looking for where you belong?" Sebastian sipped his coffee.

Blaine stirred milk into his. "Well, I know I love exploring and seeing new places. Figuring out how to get places and fixing the car when it breaks down. Talking to locals."

Leaning forward, Sebastian smiled widely. "That's good, Blaine. Use that and build on it. How can you make a career out of those things? You have the advantage of knowing what rich people are like, what they want. Find something that fits you."

"Is that what you did?" Blaine gave his old friend a warm look.

Sebastian nodded. "After dealing with my father all those years, taking on organized crime here seems like a walk in the park."

They finished their coffees, chatting about lighter topics. Later, they went to one of the new jazz clubs, and as a musician, Blaine was enthralled. They drank scotch and took in the performance.

---

It was the wee hours of the morning when they left the club and got into a taxi.

Blaine gave the driver the name of his hotel.

Sebastian was pressed against his side, an arm draped over his shoulder. "Blaine, I'm glad you looked me up after all these years."

Turning his head, Blaine could see the way Sebastian was looking at him. There was attraction between them, and Blaine could remember the hot kisses and awkward fumbling times with him in that old school chapel. Part of him was curious about how it would be now. As men instead of teens, experienced men, giving each other pleasure.

Blaine nodded, but pulled away from Sebastian, shifting along the back seat. "It was good seeing you too."

In the darkness of the taxi, Sebastian's eyes were still sharp as they looked Blaine over. "You still have feelings for your performer." His voice was barely a whisper.

Blaine gave a wobbly grin back. "Yeah...can't seem to shake them." Even being apart for so long, he still missed Kurt. Maybe he should invite Sebastian into his hotel room, see if that would help the memories fade.

"Sort yourself out, Blaine. And then go to him. Try again. He didn't end things because he didn't love you anymore." Sebastian said, as the taxi stopped at the hotel.

Nodding, Blaine hugged Sebastian, and got out.

---

A/N: One more chapter to go. Thanks for reading!

Fun Facts Time:

-Model T: Henry Ford released the first Model T in 1908, for around $850 (about $20,000 in today’s dollars). His goal was to make it a car for everyone, and he developed the assembly line, reducing the time to make a car from 12 hours to 1.5. By the 1920’s, Model T’s cost around $300 (about $7000 in today’s dollars). They were produced for 20 years, and over 16 million were sold. Before Model T’s, cars were scarce and expensive, toys for the super rich. It was the first affordable car for middle-class Americans, and changed travel forever.

-Roads: Prior to the 1920’s, roads were usually unpaved and used by the locals, so rarely signed. There was a big push as cars became more popular to develop them. One of the earliest transcontinental highways was the Lincoln Highway, formally dedicated Oct 31, 1913. It went from Times Square in NYC to Lincoln Park in San Francisco, over 3500 miles (5600 km) originally. Top speed on a Model T was about 65 miles/hour on good roads, and these weren’t good. One convoy in 1919 took two months to go from Washington DC to San Francisco, dealing with frequent problems like bridges failing, vehicle breakdown and getting stuck in the mud. 

-Tips for driving in 1913: Top up gasoline whenever possible, as gas stations are scarce. Motorists should wade through water to check the depth before driving through it. Equipment to carry: a shovel, an axe, jacks, tire casings and inner tubes, tools, and old shoes. West of Omaha, full camping equipment. Drive only during daylight (as there were no streetlights). 

-Canvas: Blaine has an old style canvas tent, basically a large piece of material with grommets along the edge, for using ropes to tie it to trees and to attach tent pegs as needed. Basic, but functional in various ways.

-Blaine's hotel was the relatively new Blackstone Hotel, a luxury hotel that opened in 1910, and became known as the Hotel of Presidents. Both Roosevelts, Taft, Wilson, Harding, Coolidge, Hoover, Truman, Eisenhower, Kennedy, Nixon and Carter had stayed there over the years. It underwent a massive renovation in 2005 and has Chicago Landmark status now.

-Salisbury School was opened in 1901 in Salisbury Connecticut (about 2 hours north of NYC). An all boy boarding school, in the heart of the Berkshires. This is where Blaine went to prep school with Sebastian, Trent, and Thad. 

-Fingerprints were first used in a murder conviction in Chicago. In 1910, Thomas Jennings broke into a house and ended up killing the owner in a confrontation, he fled.  He ended up leaving his fingerprints on a freshly painted rail outside the house.

-Black Hand was an extortion racket in Chicago and other cities. Typically, they would send a threatening letter unless a certain sum of money was paid. One assassin, referred as 'Shotgun Man', killed 15 Italian immigrants between Jan 1, 1910 and Mar 15, 1911 at 'Death Corner' in Chicago's Little Sicily. Many witnessed the shootings, but the killer was never identified by police.

-Chicago became a place musicians gravitated to from the time of the 1893 World's Fair and its ragtime pianists. Later, the Great Migration of African Americans from the southern states created demand for cabarets, cafes and dance halls. Musicians from New Orleans and Mississippi delta fed into the emergence of jazz.