When he agreed to do the line up, he had no intention of actually coming face to face with his attacker. No, that was too much for him. A very small part of him wanted to back out, but he knew it was for the best. The night he broke down was the worst night of his life; maybe even worst than the attack itself.

He dreamt he relived the attack all over again. But this time it was different. They kicked harder and moved faster. He lost way more blood, and this time, there was no one coming around to revive him. Nobody came for him. They just let him lie there in the cold, dark alleyway, until he slowly died.

When he woke up, he was sweating from head to toe. He was physically shaking and nearly fell out of bed when he stood. He tried to get his mind off of it by cleaning. He washed the counter and dusted the living room. He went out and bought one of those super quiet vacuum cleaners and went on doing the carpet.

He probably would've moved onto the bathroom next if Blaine hadn't of walked in. It was the first time he cried since the attack itself, and it was Blaine that held him during it all. He was thankful for that. Kurt was thankful for a lot of things in his life, but most of all, he was thankful for Blaine.

Not just for him being his amazing self, but for just being in his life in general.

"Okay, Kurt. All these men fit the description you gave us and all answer to Marty. All you have to do is look." Detective Vega told him.

"You okay?" Blaine asked softly.

Kurt gave him a stiff nod, feeling Blaine's fingers slowly wrap around his hand. His gave it a small squeeze before stepping closer. Each of the men were dressed almost identical as Kurt described. Ugly jacket, Mets hat, dirty jeans. It was so dark in the alleyway, Kurt couldn't possibly tell by looking at them.

"I'm not sure." He said at last. "I'm sorry . . . I can't tell by looking at them."

"Hey, it's okay. We got another plan. Now, I need you to close your eyes."

"Why does he have to do that?" Blaine questioned, his protectiveness showing.

"We're gonna have the suspects speak. If Kurt closes his eyes and concentrates, he should be able to pinpoint who the attack is."

A moment passed before Kurt gave a simply nod and did as requested. Closing his eyes, he took a long breathe and cleaned in mind. He heard Detective Vega go over the intercom and ask them to say a simply phrase. "The Mets are totally gonna win this year" It was simple enough, and the real Marty was a Met fan, after all.

Kurt listened carefully as they went down the line. Number One was too soft. Number Two didn't have the right accent. Number Three was too low. Number Four was closer. Number Five was even better. Number Six . . . Well, to be honest, Kurt stopped listening after Five.

"Either Four or Five." He told them.

"You sure?" Kurt nodded. "Four and Five, step forward."

Kurt stepped closer as well, almost touching the glass. Four was a short man with blonde hair was a well cleaned face. Five was a little taller with brown hair and more scruff. It was definitely one of them; Kurt was sure. Needing to separate them, Kurt made a small request.

"Have them curse."

"What?"

"Make them swear. I don't know! Fuck, dammit. Anything. I need to hear them say the words."

Detective Vega was hesitate, but finally obliged. She asked the two to say some swear; didn't matter which ones but he had to say them. Four went first, going down the line of "shit", "fuck", and "asshole". This voice just didn't seem to match it.

Five went next, though he seemed tired and bored. "Fuck" was first, then "bitch" came after. Kurt's mind was still to fuzzy to make the marks, but it was so close! Finally, he said his last word: "faggot". Whatever wall was blocking Kurt's mind from progressing was broken down suddenly by that one simply slur.

Kurt's eyes shot open and stared directly at Five. A flash of memory showed and from in the lit moon light, Kurt saw his face. That tan, scruffy face.

"That's him." Kurt said automatically. "Five. He's the leader."

"Are you positive?"

"Without a doubt. He did it."

As Detective Vega told the other officers to get Five into custody, Blaine pulled Kurt into him, hugging him tight.

"I'm so proud of you." He said over and over again before kissing him softly. Kurt's eyes began to water. Whether it was the fear of seeing the face of his attacker so many months afterwards or the sheer joy of it all being over, Kurt didn't know.

Either way, it didn't matter anymore. Everything was finally going to be okay again.