-TEN MONTHS LATER -

"Well, don't you look wonderful in pants!" A strident woman's voice caused heads to turn.

Kurt looked up to see Molly Brown walking towards him, a big smile on her face. He greeted her warmly, planting a kiss on each cheek, a more European style of greeting he had gotten used to in France.

"Mrs. Brown, this is my father, Burt Hummel and my step-mother, Carole Hudson." Kurt smiled as his parents chatted with the famous woman, her down to earth manner putting them at ease, and they were soon on a first name basis.

Molly put a hand on Carole's arm, leaning in close. "So, you didn't take Burt's name in marriage? Inspired by Lucy Stone, were you?"

Carole glanced warmly at Burt, and then back to Molly. "Partially, but at the time of our marriage, I had a son around Kurt's age, and I wanted to keep my name for his sake."

Kurt wrapped an arm around Carole's waist, giving her a half-hug at the reference to Finn. It had been many years since his passing, but they all still keenly felt his absence. Carole shared a look with Kurt, and nodded in acknowledgment.

"Well, you must feel so proud of Kurt, with all his success." Molly said to Burt.

Burt nodded. "I'm glad that my boy has followed his dreams, and found a way to showcase his talents. He was meant for the stage."

Kurt felt a bit embarrassed at the compliments, but coming from his father, they meant so much. "They came to the final performance of my run Saturday."

"Didn't you love it? I've been to it three times and told everyone I know to check it out." Molly said to his parents.

Kurt had just finished a three-month show in New York, in the Eltinge Theatre. The musical, comedic play had done well, the small size of the theatre helping increase demand for tickets until it was sold out for the run. Support from society women like Molly Brown had certainly helped.

He had met Molly Brown backstage after a show, and they had immediately got on like old friends. She had invited him out to some parties, and everyone had been interested in meeting Peter Lockwood. Newspaper interviews, discussing his work in Europe and the Titanic tragedy, made his stage name even more well known.

"Thanks, Molly. I think we better get seated now. It looks like things are about to begin." Kurt gave his friend's arm a squeeze before following Burt and Carole into the large auditorium.

The hall had row after row of folding chairs. Molly led them to an area near the front where other Titanic survivors were gathered. Most of the other chairs were full of seamen, some officers, but mostly crewmen.

A man with snowy white hair and a matching goatee stepped up to the podium onstage, and the crowd settled down. He wore a simple black suit with a clerical collar.

"Thank you to everyone who has gathered here today. I am Reverend Marshall, of the Seamen's Church Institute. We are proud to present the details of the International Conference of Safety of Life at Sea."

Many of the crowd burst into applause and cheering. These changes had been long awaited by the hard working men in the room.

The Reverend held up his hands until the room quieted. "Joining us today are many Titanic survivors. Many have made it their mission to make the deaths of hundreds of people on that ship to not be in vain." He held up a large document. "This is the first big step that will change the lives of many getting on ships from now on."

The Reverend went on to highlight the safety measures all boats holding more than fifty people would need to abide by. It detailed the number of lifeboats and life jackets required, safety training of the crew, boat construction around watertight compartments, and radio communications.

Kurt pulled out a handkerchief to dab at his eyes. So many of the changes discussed would have saved lives if they had been in place on the Titanic. Burt put his arm around Kurt, hugging him tight in comfort.

By the time they shuffled out into the weak January sunlight, Kurt felt emotionally drained. It was a relief to not have an evening performance he needed to rush to prepare for.

He pointed up to the top corner of the building. "Carole, Dad...see that small white lighthouse up there? Molly erected it last year as a Titanic memorial. The ball lowers to the base everyday at noon."

As his parents looked up, commenting on the structure, Kurt recognized someone in the crowd. Blaine.

He was talking with an older man, and Kurt realized it was his father, Charles. They were both dressed well, in tailored suits and thick wool coats.

Blaine must have felt Kurt's gaze, because he stopped talking, and he turned to face Kurt. For countless heartbeats, they stared at each other, the crowd moving between them, separated by only twenty feet or so.

Kurt could hardly think, could hardly breathe. He felt frozen in place.

Blaine looked away first, turning back towards his father, talking again like he had before.

Shoulders sinking, Kurt turned back to his parents. "Well, we should get a taxi and head uptown. I have a wonderful French restaurant in mind for tonight." He put on a brave face, a closed lip smile that hopefully looked convincing.

His father gave him a long look, and then he wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. "Hey, Kiddo. Do you think I don't know my own kid? You are in no shape for a big night out tonight."

Returning the hug, Kurt felt a surge of love for this dear man who knew him so well.

"Burt..." Carole's hand tugged on her husband's shoulder.

They pulled apart, and Kurt reached again for his handkerchief, turning away to dab at his eyes and blow his nose. All the Titanic stuff, the memories, the talk of safety measures and then seeing Blaine... It was all too much. He was seconds away from really losing it.

"Mr. Hummel, Mrs. Hummel, I'm Blaine Anderson. I knew your son on the ship. These are my parents, Charles and Edina Anderson." The warm tenor voice was so, so close, and Kurt turned in surprise to see his father shaking Charles' hand.

Blaine's eyes were on Kurt's again, from only a few steps away. As their parents made their greetings and polite conversation, Kurt could only take in the beautiful man in front of him. His hair was well trimmed, but curly. His clothing was perfectly tailored, reminding Kurt of his suits on the Titanic. His face looked the same...but there was something more there.

His eyes, his expression, they were different. He was guarded, distant. The Blaine Kurt had known had always been so open and trusting around Kurt. This expression now was because of him, of how he had hurt Blaine.

"I think our boys are a bit done in by everything today." Charles clapped a hand on Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine jumped slightly, and turned back to the group. "Yes, it has been a lot of old memories, stirred up."

"Well, it was great to meet you. We better get on our way. Kurt is taking us to some fancy French place for supper." Burt stepped closer to Kurt, his eyes sweeping over him. Probably seeing he needed to go.

Charles' eyes were on Blaine, and then he stood up taller. "We have a new chef, straight from Paris, at the restaurant at the hotel. Would you do us the honour of being our guests for dinner tonight?"

Kurt looked up in surprise at the offer. This was the man he had talked with a year and a half ago, asking for Blaine's guitar. The man who knew of the nature of their relationship. Knew that Kurt had loved Blaine.

He looked to his parents, and could see they were waiting for his answer. He looked at Blaine, but he wasn't showing much emotion. He couldn't think of a polite way to decline.

"Um...sure, Mr. Anderson. That's very kind of you to offer." Kurt tried to sound normal, to offer a smile, but he was sure he sounded strained.

"Wonderful! Shall we say 7pm?" The older man offered, and they had soon finalized the plans.

In the taxi with his parents, heading back to his flat, Kurt didn't know what to think. Obviously Blaine had been the one to bring his parents over to Kurt, to introduce them. Why had he bothered? Charles probably wouldn't have noticed Kurt in the crowd.

---

The dinner was incredible. The chef obviously knew he was cooking for the owners, as everything was perfect. The service was attentive and the wine flowed, selected to compliment each course.

When the chef came out after their meal, they all complimented him profusely. Kurt added his accolades in French, and the chef looked surprised, but then they discussed Paris and found they had a few common acquaintances.

Charles was giving Kurt a bit of a strange look once the chef moved on the greet other customers.

"Father, Kurt was our server at Cafe Parisian on the Titanic. He worked in Paris a few years before that." Blaine chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee.

Charles tilted his head to the side, obviously trying to place Kurt from what he could remember of Marcel. "What type of work did you do in France?"

Kurt shrugged. "What I do now. Female Impersonation. Singing, dancing."

Blaine was laughing hard at his father's expression. "You saw him perform! He's 'Nikita'. You were there the night I met Kurt."

Burt, Carole and Edina were chuckling along as they took in Charles' confusion. It broke the ice in what had been a rather formal, polite dinner. Pretty soon, Kurt was going through his various accents, making Edina laugh particularly hard at his English one, saying it reminded her of her father.

As they went to the lobby, pulling on their coats, the Hummel-Hudson's thanked the Anderson's for the wonderful meal. Charles had the doorman hail a taxi for them.

Kurt felt a presence at his side as he wrapped his scarf around his neck. He looked over, and it was Blaine, his eyes large and hard to read.

"Would you stay for a bit? I'd like to talk, just the two of us." His voice was soft, for Kurt's ears only. His expression gave nothing away.

Kurt found himself nodding. "Yes, yes of course." He stepped over to tell his father.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Burt's eyes were full of concern as they took in the stress and worry in Kurt's expression.

Kurt nodded. "Things ended badly between us. I'm sure he's angry at me, and it's only fair I hear him out." Even if it were Blaine yelling at him for hours, Kurt would still go. It was his fault for ending it. He was totally to blame.

Nodding, Burt gave him a hug and waved goodbye to the Anderson's as he left with Carole.

Blaine guided Kurt to the elevator and they were soon standing outside the door to Blaine's rooms. Kurt's breath caught in his throat when he thought of the last time he'd been here, taking Blaine's guitar home with him. Crying over it for hours, stroking over the polished wood that Blaine had held, had touched. The instrument that had been so important to him for a dozen years had been a focus for his grief.

The door was open now, and Kurt stepped in. It looked about the same, clean but with Blaine's books and music strewn about. His shoes were scattered across the floor and it reminded Kurt of all the times he nagged Blaine to not just kick them off in their hotel rooms.

The door clicked shut behind them, and Kurt sagged. He reached for his handkerchief but before he could pull it out, Blaine passed him a clean one.  Too much, too much...

Kurt was normally a strong person, but the emotions of the day were just too much. Too much of the past stirred up. And now, here alone with Blaine... Kurt turned away, wiping at his tears.

Warm hands guided Kurt to the sofa, and Blaine settled beside him. His large hazel eyes were full of emotions too as they searched Kurt's,

"Kurt..." Blaine said softly, wrapping his arms around Kurt tight.

Kurt sunk into the embrace, pushing his face against Blaine's neck as he cried. They held on to each other as the wave of emotions overtook them. Blaine was holding Kurt just as tightly as sobs racked his slim frame.

"Only you, only you know really know what that night was like." Blaine said as he wiped his face.

Pulling back, Kurt knew he looked a mess. His fair skin went so blotchy, his eyes so red, when he cried. He dabbed the cloth over his face, trying to go back to normal. He felt embarrassed and shy.

"Sorry about that. It's been almost two years, I don't think about it that often anymore. Try not to."

Blaine took Kurt's hand, giving it a squeeze. "Me too. But good things happened on that ship. We happened on that ship."

Kurt looked up at Blaine's eyes, trying to read them. "Aren't you mad at me, Blaine? The handfasting..."

Sighing, Blaine shook his head. "I was the one who pushed you into it on the ship. Pushed you into the relationship."

"But I wanted it too." Kurt felt like he was going to cry again. This was such a mess and Blaine was being so nice. Too nice. Getting up, Kurt walked around the room, trying to calm down.

Blaine was still looking lost, sitting on the sofa alone. "Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if we hadn't hit the iceberg. What if we made plans for the rest of the trip and had left together at the end?"

The idea was amazing. Kurt tried to picture them as they had been, totally smitten with each other, not worrying about how they would live, just confident they would figure it all out.

Kurt chuckled, looking at Blaine. "Well, you wouldn't have been a Rebel Prince, I guess. Running around the countryside." He paused, looking around the room. "But it looks like your back, safe and sound, in the kingdom now."

Scoffing, Blaine got up and took off his suit coat, draping it over a chair. "Hardly. I've only been here since Christmas, and I'm leaving pretty soon."

So many questions bubbled up. "Where did you go when you left? Did you go to another Vaudeville circuit? Where are you going now?"

Blaine chuckled, walking towards Kurt slowly. He stopped in front of Kurt, letting his eyes take him in from his tall, perfect hair down to his brogues. His eyes were consideringly warmer when they met Kurt's again. "So many questions. Should I charge you a kiss a question like we used to?"

Desire hit Kurt fast, and he couldn't resist leaning forward to capture Blaine's smirking lips. The kisses were hard, and a bit desperate, for both of them.

"Bedroom..." Blaine whispered, his lips nipping along Kurt's neck as he pulled him towards a door.

It was so good, it was so easy. It felt so right. Clothes were off in seconds and they were in the large bed, groaning as naked skin made contact. Getting lost together as they touched and tasted, greedy for everything.

---

Kurt woke up, and it took a few moments to remember the night before.

Turning, he looked at Blaine, relaxed in sleep. For months, they had shared tiny beds in seedy hotel rooms. It felt right to sleep close.

The morning light was softly lighting the room. Kurt sighed as he looked at Blaine's peaceful face. If only they could always sleep together, wake up together.

Picking up his pocket watch, Kurt saw it was still very early. He relaxed, flipping the watch over in his hand, opening it to trace over Blaine's initials inside. Thinking.

Blaine stirred, and stretched. He made the cutest little noises, that Kurt couldn't resist kissing along his jaw, ending up on his lips.

The kisses were lazy, sweet, sleepy. Blaine pulled Kurt over him, cupping his ass as the kisses got more heated. They ground together, finding the right rhythm and pressure. It felt good, being close and intimate like this, like they had been so many times in the past. Knowing each other so well, what they each needed.

"I've missed this." Blaine sighed a few minutes later, cleaned up and cuddling.

Kurt smirked. "The sex? Yeah, me too."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Not just that, silly. Waking up together, kissing, sleeping with you. You." His dark eyes went from Kurt's eyes down to his lips, and back again.

"I miss all that too. I miss you, Blaine." So much so, some nights he ached to be with him. Just to be near him, to see him, to hold him.

Blaine's lips scrunched together in a thin line. "But it doesn't work with us, does it?" His eyes took on a bit of a sad, distant look.

Kurt just wanted to take that hurt look away. "It didn't before. We were drifting apart."

"Why? Why can't it work better between us? We can figure this out, surely." Blaine took Kurt's hand, pressing a kiss onto the back of it.

Nodding, Kurt wanted it too. "What have you been doing, Blaine? What are you doing next?"

Rolling onto his back, Blaine kept playing with Kurt's fingers. "Travelled around, working for room and board in odd jobs. Occasionally doing a gig for money."

"Why did you see your parents?" Kurt had been wondering about this.

Blaine shrugged. "I worried about June Dolloway talking about seeing me alive. And I thought about how you thought I should see them. I don't know... It was kind of facing up to my past and coming to peace with it."

"I'm surprised you aren't working for your father again. That's what you always said would happen." Kurt said, liking that Blaine was being so open.

Sighing, Blaine looked down at Kurt. "We sat up one night, drinking too much brandy, and really talked. Talked about Titanic. Talked about the jobs I did afterwards. He was impressed that I did so well on my own, with nothing but the clothes on my back."

Kurt was quiet, sensing Blaine had more to say.

"He offered me my position back, but didn't seem surprised when I turned it down. We talked about how he started the hotel and how satisfying it was to know it was all his own accomplishment." Blaine looked around the room, seeing the elegant furnishings, obvious signs of his father's success.

"I want that too. I want to build something of my own, work hard on it, know it's all mine if it succeeds. Like he did with the hotel. Like you did with your act." Blaine turned on his side to face Kurt.

Kurt was blinking back tears, feeling so much for this man. "I want that for you too, Blaine. I'll help you any way I can."

"I feel like I've grown up, and I'm on the way to becoming my own man. Does that sound too cliché?" Blaine smirked.

Kurt leaned in to kiss those irresistible lips. "Maybe, but I get what you're saying. Well, I'm heading out to California for a few months. Maybe your travels will bring you by for a visit."

"Why there?" Blaine was kissing down Kurt's neck. Light kisses that teased more than aroused.

Shrugging a shoulder, Kurt played with Blaine's curls. "The show is moving to a theatre out in LA for a run. An old friend of mine from the Music Hall days is out there now and says it's booming. Plus he keeps writing to me about the weather and the ocean."

Blaine chuckled as he ran his hand down Kurt's chest. "I can just picture you and some pasty Brit on a sandy beach. Don't you burn?"

Slapping Blaine's hand away, Kurt made a bitchy face. "No, I wear a special cream and a big hat."

Undaunted, Blaine nuzzled into Kurt's chest until he giggled. "I was just worried about all this lovely skin." He kissed downwards, teasing until he had Kurt squirming in pleasure against him.

---

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: Be patient… one more chapter….

-Historical Fun Facts! (sorry there’s lots for this chapter… feel free to skip if it’s not your thing.)

-Lucy Stone (1818-1893) was an abolitionist, suffragist and activist for women’s rights. In 1853, Henry Blackwell began a two-year courtship of Lucy, but she did not want to marry because she did not want to surrender control over her life and assume the legal position occupied by married women. Through correspondence, he argued that they could create a marriage that was an equal partnership, governed by mutual agreement. They could take steps to protect her against unjust laws, and together they could accomplish more than they could alone. She retained her personal property when they married, and her surname, viewing taking her husband’s name as the legal annihilation of a married woman’s identity. There were some legal battles around this, but in 1856, she was able to publically announce that her name would remain Lucy Stone. 

-Eltinge Theatre: This Broadway theatre was opened in 1912, named after the female impersonator, Julian Eltinge. It eventually became a burlesque theatre, then a movie theatre, and was renamed the ‘Empire Theatre’ in 1954. In 1998, the whole theatre was moved 170 feet west, gutted, and the shell became the lobby and lounge of a 25 screen AMC theatre, with the escalators going through the former proscenium arch of the stage. 

-Seamen's Church Institute of New York and New Jersey: It was founded in 1834, and loosely affiliated with the Episcopal church, serving mariners through education, pastoral care and legal advocacy. In 1913, it opened its doors to a 13-story building near the ports along the south end of Manhattan. It’s main purpose was to provide safe, cheap hotel rooms for sailors to keep them away from the ‘crimps’ in the dock areas who would encourage sailors to use up their wages on alcohol and gambling. 

-Titanic Memorial is a 60-foot (18 m) tall lighthouse erected in 1913 to remember the people who died on the Titanic on April 15, 1912. It stood on the top of the Seamen’s Church Institute’s 13 floor building near the East River. In 1976, it was moved to the South Street Seaport Museum, standing at the entrance of the museum complex. Thanks to ‘I hate mosquitoes’ from fanfiction.net for telling me about visiting this memorial in August 2016.

-International Conference of Safety of Life at Sea (SOLAS): SOLAS Convention is one of the most important international treaties concerning the safety of merchant ships. The Titanic disaster in 1912 caused a lot of media attention on the safety standards of the day. The Conference was attended by representatives of 13 countries, and was adopted Jan 20, 1914. It detailed safety standards like lifeboats, safety training, watertight bulkheads, firefighting appliances, radio equipment and established a North Atlantic ice patrol. It did not enter into force until July 1915 due to WWI breaking out in Europe. There have been conventions in 1929, 1948, 1960, and 1974, and continues to be updated and amended. 

-The New York gathering about the SOLAS conference at the Seamen’s Church Institute in January 1914 as described in the story is fiction. The Conference was signed in London. It is possible that such an event would have been organized by the SCI, as they did education for mariners.