“KURT! Kurt! Come quick! Kurt!”

Kurt twitched and moaned, his screeched name piercing through a very pleasant dream. Worse than nails on a chalkboard because the dream was ever so much more pleasant than a chalkboard. “Is he calling for me?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re enjoying that, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Blaine rolled over and kissed Kurt’s…something. Forehead probably, although he was half asleep and it was darker than the depths of a guano-filled bat cave, so. “Rumor has it, Kurt Hummel likes assholes.”

“KURT! ‘Fore I forget!”

“Why isn’t he coming in here? It’s so much easier to just scoot over and start sleeping again.”

“You know how to get him to shut up?”

“Get out of bed and see what he wants.”

“It’s worked for me. And I’d offer to go and all, but last I checked my name is not Kurt.”

“You’re still an asshole and rumors are traditionally only partially true. I only like certain assholes. It’s not looking good for you.” Kurt flipped the covers off of his body, purposely overshooting so he’d uncover Blaine as well.

“That wasn’t nice at all.”

“Hrmph. If I find vomit in there and he’s calling for me, I’m hanging you from your station’s cherry picker. By your balls.”

“Promises. Promises.”

“At city hall.”

“KURT!”

“For the love…I’m coming, Ade.” Kurt stepped far enough into Adrian’s room until he could see the fuzzy outline of his hair. “I’m here, buddy. You okay?”

“Yes! I’m…I saw her, Kurt! It's been forever! I saw her!”

“Your mom?” Kurt sat on the edge of the bed and before his ass was completely settled, Adrian had climbed onto his lap, Lizzie Monster squeezed between them. “Woah…” Kurt scooted back onto the mattress, his back against the wall. “How do you move so fast in the middle of the night?”

“Well, it took you like 10 years to get in here.”

“I was sleeping.”

“So was I. That’s how dreams work, Kurt.”

“You are a smart alec for someone who woke me up from a good dream, buster. So, tell me about your mom.”

“Well, she was in a line again. Like every time. But this time when she saw me? She turned away and I got scared because…”

“…because she never talks, does she?”

“No. And…well,” Adrian flicked the spikes on Lizzie’s head, the stuffing starting to weaken at their base from all of his sucking and pulling and twisting whenever he had something important to say. “…she still didn’t this time.”

“I'm sorry, buddy. So, what did happen?”

“She turned and pointed to someone waiting across the…room…place…thing. It’s like a big blue space with fog…and flowers.”

“Who was it?”

“Well…I think…” Adrian rested his head on Kurt’s chest and swirled a finger over his arm. “What does your mom look like?”

Kurt stopped his absent minded stroking of Adrian’s back and if he really focused on his body, it was quite possible his blood stopped pumping. “Um. Have…have I shown you a picture before?”

“No. Do you have one?”

“In my wallet…come on. Let’s wake Daddy up too.”

“Then I can sleep with you?”

“Yes, then you can sleep with us.” Kurt hiked Adrian onto his hip as he stood, groaning at his weight. “I think they’re feeding you something funny at school. You’re getting too big to carry, buddy.”

“I’m still the littlest in my class.”

“That’s because everyone else has to stretch to be awesome. You already are.” When they got to Blaine's room, Kurt whispered conspiratorially into Adrian’s ear and tossed the silly boy onto the pile of Blaine. “Incoming!!!”

Adrian landed with a thud and a giggle…and an “Oof! That wasn’t very nice either, Mr. Hummel.”

“Cover your eyes. I need the light.”

“Seriously? It’s 0300, guys.”

“This is important stuff, Dad. I think I saw Kurt’s mom.”

“What?” Blaine sat up as Kurt turned on the light, squinting and grabbing Adrian’s neck in a playful headlock.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Have I even shown you a picture of her?”

“Don’t you have one in your bedroom? By the chair where you read?”

“I do. Ade, have you seen that picture before?”

“Maybe? I don’t go into your room much.”

Kurt joined them on the bed and held a small photo to his chest. “So, before I show you the picture, what did this lady look like?”

“She had dark hair.” Adrian tilted his head and squinted at Kurt. “Darker than yours Kurt, but not as dark as Daddy’s. It fell on her shoulders like pretty puddles. And, she had freckles like Mommy and a big happy smile.”

Kurt swallowed thickly and handed him the picture that he’d kept in his wallet since her death – reprinted a few times when it would fade. “Like this?”

“Oh my goodness. Yes. And she was wearing an Ohio State cap. And had thumbs up.” He showed them a thumbs up sign and flashed a huge grin.

Kurt started to talk three times and stopped, finally finding his voice, monotone and quiet. “She and dad used to watch OSU football games like it was church. They dressed for it every game day. We’d have tons of food, even if it was just the three of us. After she died, he didn’t watch another OSU football game until Finn and Carole showed up in our lives.”

“Did anything else happen, Ade?”

“Nope. Mom moved up in the line and Kurt’s mom sort of disappeared after I waved at her. And then I woke up.”

After a few quiet moments, Kurt stood, kissing both of his boys on the cheek and headed to the door, stopping before he hit the hallway. “I’m…I’m going to go downstairs and get something to drink. Maybe…” He changed direction and grabbed a sweatshirt from the closet. “…maybe sit outside.”

Adrian and Blaine listened to the stairs creak as he walked down to the kitchen, cabinets opening and closing echoing back up the stairs. “Did I make Kurt sad?”

“No, sweetheart. He’s just…super worried about his dad and…”

“…she looked happy, Daddy.”

“I know. He knows too. Let’s get you back to bed so I can go make sure he’s okay, though.”

“Can I stay here?”

“Not tonight…we’ll plan a bedroom movie night this weekend, okay?” Adrian nodded and settled into his own bed, asking no more questions, cuddling with Lizzie as his dad rubbed his back, lulling him to sleep. “I’m glad you got to see Mommy again.”

“Me too. She looks happy every time I see her.”

“She was always her happiest with you, buddy.”

***

When Blaine got downstairs, he followed his nose to the kitchen where Kurt had warmed some milk with cinnamon, leaving enough for one more mug. He grabbed a cup and finished off the pan, dripping a dollop of honey on top. He and Kurt had been together for only three months, but the quiet messages like this one – please come sit with me – were a skill they’d mastered early and well. He slipped on a sweatshirt and ducked outside finding Kurt curled up under a throw, sipping at his mug of milk.

Kurt said nothing as Blaine took a seat next to him, but reached his hand out, lazily hooking their fingers together as their arms dangled between them.

After a silence only interrupted by sips of milk, hums of pleasure at the cool night air, the warmth of the drinks, Kurt finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t even believe in things like that, Blaine.”

“What’s to believe in? He dreamt what he dreamt.”

“But…how did he know what Mom looked like?”

“I don’t know, babe. I mean…looking at that picture? You’re her spitting image, so it was a fair guess?”

“But he didn’t know I look like her.”

“Kurt, does it matter if it’s real? Or reasonable?”

“It’s just freaking me out.”

“What do you think it meant?”

“If I think logically, it meant that his subconscious made an intelligent guess…can our subconscious guess?” Kurt sipped on his milk, pondering. “He guessed correctly and…saw Mom. Period.”

“And if you throw logic away?”

“My mom visited him. Which is insane.”

“Why is that so insane?”

“Ade and I haven’t talked about her since August? He’s never seen her before in his life. Dad’s slipping out from under me and suddenly Mom showed up in your son’s dream to…what? Tell me she knows he’s sick? Tell me it’s okay? Suggest I get his OSU cap instead of the Penzoil one he’s wearing? I don’t even know.”

“Does the idea that she somehow knows…that maybe she’s keeping an eye on things…does that bring you comfort?”

“Of course it does. But it’s an idea. It’s not reality.”

“Is the comfort real?”

Kurt sighed and sat up, spinning the throw around his shoulders. “Do you still dream about Maggie?”

“Sometimes. She lingers in the background of a normal dream. We exchange smiles and she disappears.”

“How do you feel when you wake up?”

“Like I have her with me. Like she’s happy with our life. Like she’s just given me a huge hug – and it lasts all day.”

“I know it’s not how I’m acting, but that’s how I feel right now. It’s just freaking me out that it came from him and not me.”

“So why fight it? Why bring logic into it?”

“Because logic is all I have right now. Statistics and blood levels. Med rates and boluses. Faceless people in white coats and I’m not allowed to feel anything about it.”

“Says who?”

“Me. If I start to feel, I’m going to completely lose my shit, Blaine. And once that starts?” Kurt spun a finger over the rim of his mug, daring himself for the first time since coming outside to look at Blaine, afraid that in his eyes, he'd simply buckle. “I’m afraid it won’t stop.”

“A wise man once told me that it’s okay to fall apart.”

“So, have you?”

“With Ade?”

“Yes.”

“Yes. It was when you and I were apart. He was being particularly difficult going to bed for the 5 millionth night in a row. I was exhausted – so tired of feeling incompetent – wishing you were waiting for me in the living room and…I just crumbled. Poor kid was so confused, but before long, he was crying with me.” Blaine paused a beat as the memory came crashing back. “After we were cried out and laughed at all of our sniffling and snotting and wet shoulders and matted hair, we decided that it felt like a really good hot shower. We felt amazing.”

“You are such a wonderful father, Blaine.”

“I don’t know about that. But I do know that falling apart was probably the best thing I could have done…just like you said.”

“My time will come. But not yet. I’ve got to hold on as long as Dad does.”

“Then be grateful Adrian can take that for you in his dreams. Let him be your messenger.”

“He is a good one, isn’t he?”

“It’s simple for him. Your dad’s sick. His mom’s dead. Your mom’s dead. It sucks, so he leaves this world and finds ways to deal with it somewhere else. When you think about it, it’s a fucking amazing gift.”

Kurt sat quietly, finally draining his mug of its warm milk. He got out of the chaise and curled up to Blaine in the lounger, pulling the throw over them as their bodies molded together, confessing his truest wish. “Maybe I just want her to visit me instead.”

“Maybe she knows you’re not ready yet.”

“She’s probably right.”

“She’s your mom. Good moms are always right.”

***

“Dad?”

“There’s my boy.” Burt lifted an IV-strapped hand, swollen and bruised. His eyes were sunken and he was pale and if Kurt could actually see such a thing, he would have sworn a haze encircled him. But he was awake. And, from what the nurse on duty told him when she frantically called, he was lucid, something Kurt feared he'd never experience with him again.

Carole almost squeaked with excitement when Kurt pulled up a chair and sat down, eyeing her with a million questions, trying, trying, trying to tamp down any enthusiasm he was feeling. The close to two weeks Burt had been hospitalized was a lesson on how to deal with 3 steps forward, 2 steps back. This, however, felt more like 50 steps forward.

Burt had been fighting and fighting hard. His heart would get to a point where they were comfortable enough to release him to a temporary nursing facility and then he’d come down with an infection. The infection would heal, but it would take so much from his body and heart function that he would be back to square one again, fighting for proper heart function, oxygenation. It was a never-ending cycle.

“So, you think you took a long enough nap, Dad?”

Burt smiled and squeezed Kurt’s hand, grimacing as the movement reminded him of the IV in his hand. “I’m sick of this damned thing.”

“Keeps the nurses from having to bug you every hour to take a bunch of pills.”

“I like nurses.”

“Have you met Todd? He’s hot.”

“I like girl nurses, Kurt.” Burt’s voice was a little slow, slurred, but to Kurt, it was beautiful, having wondered if he’d ever hear it again. He was even open to obnoxious and inappropriate – just to hear his voice again. “Speaking of that boyfriend of yours…”

“…which we weren’t.”

“We should have been…I hear the two of you saved my life.”

“Dad…”

“Is Carole right?”

“Sort of? We…kept everything going until the medics could get there, yeah.”

“So. I’ve been thinking during my…nap…I don’t ever want you to have to do what you did again. I want to sign a DNR. It’s not part of my Living Will and…”

“Okay.” Kurt looked to Carole who’s excitement had quickly deteriorated to sadness, but there was a peace about her he’d not seen before.

“Carole?”

She nodded without a word, resting her head on Burt’s chest.

“I’m sorry, Kurt.”

“No apologies, Dad. I don’t want this for you. Any of it. But it’s here and if you’re tired of fighting…”

Carole cried softly while Kurt found the pitcher and offered his dad some water, unsure of what else to do. As they sat, Carole quieted and scooted herself closer, kissing Burt’s head, whispering words of love and encouragement over and over answered only by Burt’s soft I know, I know, his eyes never leaving Kurt's.

"You want to do this now, don't you?"

"I do."

Kurt stood and leaned down to kiss Carole's hand. “Let me…let me go see what we need to do, okay?”

He found the head nurse and told him what his dad wanted. In no time, the wheels were in motion. Within an hour and with the swipe of a few signatures, it was now a legal requirement for both hospital caregivers and out-of-hospital caregivers – like medics and firemen and trained sons – to let his dad’s fibrillating, faltering heart take the natural course it was going to take. No CPR. No resuscitation. No life saving measures. Of any kind.

And the odd haze Kurt saw surrounding his dad when he’d first entered the room was lifted. Conversation flowed. Laughter rumbled. Joy emanated. Joy he hadn’t felt in over a year since the dementia had started to whittle away at the man who raised him, who loved him when absolutely no one else would.

“I almost forgot, Dad. Adrian drew you a picture.” He dug through is bag to retrieve the picture, secured in a sturdy folder lest Adrian would have never left the house with it. “He will expect a full report on your response, so make it good.”

Burt held the picture, looking it over carefully, taking in the two characters and the scene surrounding them. It was colorful and bright. Happy and playful. “Well, that is definitely me.”

“It is…” Kurt pointed to the man in the picture. “He even got your blanket you like for your ankles.”

“He did. And who’s this critter with me?”

“That…is Lizzie.”

Burt looked up, his face flushing with emotion. “What?”

“Lizzie Monster to be exact.” Kurt explained how Lizzie came to be, how her four arms both loved and fought evil and how she had become his go-to bedtime companion, movie night companion and general comfort item since her last seam had been sewn. “She even survived the Kindergarten Barf Bug of 2023.”

“But, did you survive the Kindergarten Barf Bug of 2023?”

“Barely. It hit me in New York. I don’t remember ever being that sick.”

“Moms and Dads always get it worse.”

"Well, I'm not Da-…"

“I think Lizzie Monster is amazing.”

“I do too.” Kurt took the picture back and looked at it again before standing to put it up on a dry erase board across from the bed. “Is this good here?”

Burt smiled as brightly as he could. “It’s perfect. Tell him I want to hear about Lizzie’s adventures next time we meet.”

“I will. And he’ll have plenty of them to tell you. His imagination is…it’s…unbridled.”

“As it should be at his age.” Burt took Kurt’s hand when he returned and rolled his head to see him better, his hat hinging on his head like a lid. “You gonna marry this guy?”

“Oh. Dad. I don’t…I mean, we’ve only been together for a few months, but…”

“I asked your Mom after 2 months, you know?”

“You did not.”

“I did too! Tell him Carole!”

“He did. Said she was the prettiest girl he would ever see so he figured he’d better grab her for good before someone else did.”

“How did I not know this!?”

“Probably because she turned me down. She broke my heart, that Elizabeth Marie Collins.”

“Yeah, for an hour, you sad sack.”

“An hour?”

“Well, I couldn’t just let her go, could I? She was smart and beautiful and I was just a dumb mechanic. And she kissed good!!!”

Laughter filled the room as Burt told about his own rescue attempt that included flowers and milkshakes – peach, to Kurt’s delight – and ended with a chase down the driveway from Elizabeth’s dad because they talked on the porch well past her curfew.

“I finally got her back – without an engagement, of course – and next thing I know I’m running from the business end of a cocked shotgun. You never met Pa Collins, Kurt but the man didn’t need a gun. The glares he shot out of those eyes?”

“Is that where my glare came from?”

“YES!”

The story had been so engaging, the ease of conversation so welcome, Kurt hadn’t heard or even felt Blaine come in. But, the warmth of his hand on his shoulder broke through, a welcome interruption. “Hi…how long have you been here?”

“Long enough to hear that someone is lucky he got another shot at a proposal.”

“I didn’t get shot that time either. It must have been destiny.”

Blaine quietly summoned Kurt away from the conversation, kissing him softly as they met in the small entry into the private room. “When did this happen?”

“This afternoon…I just flew over here when they called.” A traitor to his joy, a tear slipped down Kurt’s cheek. “He signed a DNR.”

Blaine’s smile faded and he cupped Kurt’s jaw in his hand, a resting place for Kurt to process the reality of that act. “It’s probably for the best.”

“I know it is. I do.”

“It still feels sort of awful though.”

“Blaine Anderson!”

Blaine and Kurt snapped out of their stolen retreat at Burt’s weak bellow. “Um…yes, sir?”

“I need to speak with you. Alone.”