Kurt rubbed a hand down his face. He had been in this office for a few hours, and the fluorescent white light was hurting his. He just wanted to go home. Maybe if he went home, crawled into his bed and went to sleep, he could get pretend that nothing extraordinary had happened.

This is not happening. I still can wake up. For the love of god, Hummel, just wake up.

He looked up when he heard the sound of footsteps. One of the agents he had seen before entered the office. She was rather short, with long brunette hair held back with a navy blue headband. She was smiling gently at him in a way that meant to be comforting. But Kurt had had enough with this day, and the only comfort he could think of was to be allowed to get the hell away from here.

“Mr. Hummel…” The woman began saying, but Kurt interrupted her.

“Look, I’m sorry. But will anyone please tell me when I can go home? No one’s told me anything since they brought me here…” He muttered almost pleadingly.

The agent’s dark eyes filled with sympathy. “Soon, I’m sure. We just need to ask you a few more questions, and…”

“More questions?” Kurt got up from his chair, feeling restless. “I’ve already spoken to three different agents. I’ve told you everything.”

“We understand that,” the agent said patiently. “But it’ll only take a few minutes.”

Kurt stared out of the window at the beautiful skyline of New York. The city was always alive and luminous, even in the middle of the night. He pressed his forehead against the cold glass and closed his eyes for a moment. Just a bit longer – he could resist for just a little bit longer. And as soon as he woke up the next day, he could pretend this had never happened.

This is what happens when you think you need more excitement in your life, he thought bitterly. I’ll never complain about being in the ensemble again.

He thought of the girl lying naked on the filthy alley floor. He had to take a deep breath to stop himself from throwing up. He would never be able to pretend that hadn’t happened.

He went back to his seat with his legs feeling weak and hid his face behind his hands.

Kurt heard new footsteps but didn’t look up, focusing instead on inhaling and exhaling slowly. There was a soft sound and when he finally put his hands down and opened his eyes, he found a cup of coffee right in front of him. He instinctively wrapped his fingers around the hot ceramic mug, white with the FBI logo on it, and then glanced up at the man who had brought it for him.

He hadn’t seen this agent before in the hours he had been sitting in this dully decorated office. The man had curly dark hair that had obviously tried to tame with some product, and whiskey eyes that looked tired but alert. His grey suit and white shirt were wrinkled, and the black tie hanging around his neck was a little loose. Despite how serious he looked, Kurt couldn’t help thinking he was attractive. If he hadn’t been so tired and traumatized, Kurt would have felt flustered under this stranger’s intense gaze.

“Mr. Hummel, I’m agent Anderson,” the man said. He put an official looking folder on the table and offered his hand to Kurt. Kurt shook it and noticed how firm his handshake was, and how rough the skin of his palm was to the touch. “I’m sorry we had to keep you here for so long, but as you probably know, this is a very delicate situation.”

“You mean the fact that a girl was murdered two blocks away from my apartment? And then some crazy man tried to knock down a phone booth to get to me as well? Yes, I definitely understand how delicate this is. But I’m sure you and the other three agents I talked to also understand that it was a pretty difficult night and I would very much like to go home,” Kurt retorted quite abruptly, feeling his voice go higher and higher in pitch the longer he talked.

So this is what going into hysterics feels like, he thought, as his heart pounded against his ribcage.

He took a sip of coffee hoping it would help him calm down, but he almost spit it out immediately. It had to be the worst coffee he had ever tasted.

“Sorry about that,” Agent Anderson said sincerely. “I always forget I only drink that because I’m used to it.”

“Wow,” Kurt scrunched his face, willing his taste buds back to normal. “So all those FBI TV shows were actually right about the awful coffee…”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Agent Anderson sighed, and then took a seat in front of Kurt. His face returned to its original seriousness and Kurt put the cup down. “Mr. Hummel, I know you have already been through a lot tonight. But I was hoping you could tell me about what happened in detail.”

Kurt ran his fingers through his hair. He was exhausted and the last thing he wanted to do was talk about it again. However, he realized that the sooner he told Agent Anderson about it, the sooner he would be on his way home. So he began talking, making sure not to spare any detail. Anderson listened intently; he never interrupted him, looking straight at Kurt, hanging to his every word. The other agents he had spoken to had only made Kurt more nervous, but there was something soothing about how Anderson was solely focused on him.

“Once I called 911, I wasn’t sure what to do. All I knew was that I needed the door to hold up until the cops were there,” Kurt said quietly. He could still hear the man’s shouts and the violent pounding of his heart as he waited – either for the police to get there or for the man to make it through. He had never been so scared in his life. “As soon as he heard the sirens, he left. By the time the police helped me out of the phone booth, he was nowhere to be seen.”

Agent Anderson nodded for a second, simply processing what Kurt had said. Then he opened the folder he had brought with him. He extracted a sheet of paper from it and extended it to Kurt. “Based on the description you gave to one of our agents earlier tonight, we were able to put together this identikit. Is this the man you saw tonight?”

Kurt studied the drawing, his blue eyes moving quickly over it. He tried not to get sick for the millionth time that night. The image was strikingly familiar, even though he hoped he had never seen that face before. “Yes. Yes, this is him.”

It was the same shaggy blonde hair, broad forehead and thin lips. His square jaw and sharp cheekbones framed his face making it look stony. But what made Kurt’s skin crawl was his eyes – that slimy green that made him feel dirty and uncomfortable…

He put the drawing back on the table, face down. He didn’t want to look at it anymore.

Agent Anderson put it back in the folder. “We’re looking for him in our database, and we’ll have his picture out in newspapers and the internet tomorrow. We’re going to find him, thanks to you.”

Kurt nodded. The image of the dead girl assaulted him again, so clear in his memory that he knew he would never be able to forget it. “That poor girl… I wish I could have… if I had arrived five minutes earlier…”

“You wouldn’t have been able to prevent it,” Agent Anderson said kindly. “This person is insane and there’s no way to know what he would have done if you had caught him before he got to her. Don’t blame yourself.”

Kurt smiled sadly at him but didn’t say anything. It was difficult to avoid wondering what if…

Agent Anderson gave him a moment while he rummaged through the folder. “Do you have any family in town, Mr. Hummel?”

Kurt frowned, not sure what that had to do with anything. “Yes. My brother’s here in New York.”

“Do you live on your own?” Anderson asked, lifting his gaze back towards him.

“I… yes. Why?”

“I think it would be best for you to stay with him tonight, if it’s possible,” Agent Anderson said. “I imagine it must have been a rough night for you.”

Kurt wanted to protest and say he was perfectly okay. But the idea of slipping into his dark apartment at four in the morning made him feel slightly nervous. “Sure. He won’t mind.”

“Perfect,” Agent Anderson stood and Kurt did the same, hoping this meant it was time for him to leave. “Agent Berry will take you there, and she’ll stay outside the building tonight. We’ll send another agent to relieve her in the morning and escort you to your house to…”

“Oh, no,” Kurt said, wide-eyed. “I don’t need FBI agents following me around. Trust me, I’m more than ready to put this behind me. I don’t need a constant reminder walking a few steps behind like some sort of bodyguard.”

“Mr. Hummel…” Agent Anderson was getting ready to unleash his most convincing argument on Kurt. He clearly had no idea just how stubborn Kurt could be.

“Listen, Agent Anderson. I understand that this is a very delicate situation, as you said. But I don’t want FBI agents following me. I will stay with my brother tonight and tomorrow I’ll go to work like I always do,” Kurt said.

“Mr. Hummel, this is a very shocking moment for you, I’m sure. Don’t you think it would be better to wait a few days?” Agent Anderson cocked his head, as if he couldn’t figure out why Kurt would be so eager to pretend it had only been an ordinary night.

Kurt shook his head stubbornly. He looked up at the agent with a tired, humorless smile. “The show must go on, right?”

Agent Anderson simply blinked at him for a few seconds, staring at Kurt as if he had never seen someone like him before, trying to figure him out. Finally, he cleared his throat and nodded reluctantly. “Very well. I’ll get Agent Berry to take you to your brother’s house, then.”

“Thank you,” Kurt sighed in relief.

“We may need to ask you to testify against him when we catch him… can we count with you?” Agent Anderson asked.

Kurt grabbed his coat and put it on. “Of course. Anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

“Thank you,” Agent Anderson replied, and then extracted a card from his pocket. “Call me if you remember anything else that may be relevant.”

“I will,” Kurt promised, glancing quickly at the card before slipping it into his own pocket.

Anderson led him out of the office, where they found Agent Berry reading some files. Both agents exchanged a few words, before Agent Anderson said goodbye and thanked Kurt once again for his cooperation.

On the drive to Finn’s apartment, Kurt leaned his head against the window and tried not to think too much. In just a few hours, he needed to get up and head back to the theatre. He was sure he would need all his strength to face that moment.

He thanked Agent Berry and got out of the car when she pulled up at Finn’s building. Kurt had his own key, so he didn’t need to wake up his brother. He would have to tell him everything in the morning. He wasn’t excited about dealing with Finn now, knowing how overprotective he could be. He was bound to get very intense when he heard about what had happened.

Kurt thought it would take him ages to fall asleep, but he was out like a light as soon as he got comfortable on the couch. He was still hoping to wake up in his own bed and discover this had been only a very elaborate nightmare…

*

It seemed as if he had only been asleep for a few minutes when Kurt blinked his eyes open and found Finn standing by the couch, looking down at him in surprise. His hair was a mess and he was wearing a ratty OSU t-shirt with a hole on the left shoulder.

“Kurt? Why are you sleeping on my couch?” He asked in confusion.

Kurt groaned and covered his face with an arm. He wasn’t looking forward to this conversation, especially since he had gotten a lot less sleep than necessary. “I think I’m going to need a cup of coffee before I can talk about it.”

Finn tilted his head to the side. “You look terrible. Are you okay?”

He slowly sat up and brushed his hair out of his face. “Give me a minute and I’ll tell you everything. I… I just need a minute.”

Finn nodded and walked towards the kitchen, but kept glancing at him over his shoulder. In the morning light, the events of the previous night seemed so surreal, so impossible. How was he going to tell Finn, especially when he didn’t want to recall what had happened once again? Talking to the FBI agents, retelling everything over and over had been almost mechanic. But he knew that with Finn that would not be possible – he couldn’t detach himself from what had happened and simply state the facts. He would get emotional and he would have to deal with what he had seen, what he had been through…

He joined Finn in the kitchen a few minutes later, still unsure. He felt sick and exhausted, just as badly as the previous night. When he handed him a steamy cup of coffee, he took an eager sip from it, hoping it would make him feel a little more normal.

“You know, you’re starting to worry me,” Finn commented from where he was leaning against the counter. “Is this about what we talked about last night? Are you going to quit the show or something?”

“No, it’s not that…” Kurt took a deep breath and looked at Finn over the rim of his mug. “Finn… something happened last night.”

“Bad hook up? I’ve had a few of those. It’s okay, I’m not going to judge you,” Finn shrugged, giving him a smile that was full of support.

Shaking his head, Kurt put the cup down when he noticed his hands were trembling slightly. “Have you heard of those murders that had been happening for a few months now? It’s always women and they always find them naked…”

Finn’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Of course I have. It’s all over the news. One of my teammate’s cousins is one of the victims. I think she was one of the first cases, too. But what does that have to do with anything?”

The kitchen was spinning around him. He felt a soft pressure on his arm and realized Finn had moved towards him and was holding him with his eyes full of concern.

“Kurt?”

“I saw him last night. I… he killed a girl two blocks away from my apartment,” Kurt explained in a strained voice.

“Oh my god…” Finn’s grip on him tightened unconsciously. “I can’t believe… are you alright?”

He guided him towards the breakfast bar and forced him down onto one of the stools. With his hand firmly on his brother’s shoulder, Kurt began talking without even realizing he was doing it. He told him about the girl, how he had managed to hide in the phone booth until the police came, and how he had to talked to several FBI agents before he could go home.

Finn was clearly having a hard time processing what he was hearing. He opened and closed his mouth several times, as if he couldn’t decide what he wanted to say first. Lastly, he settled on a question. “How are you?”

“I think I’m still in shock,” Kurt replied with a sigh. “I’ve been mostly wishing to wake up, because this has to be a nightmare. And that poor girl…” He covered his mouth with a hand. He could still see the blood pouring from the wound in her stomach, painting her pale skin red.

Finn wrapped his arms around him and held him for what felt like a very long time. Kurt finally allowed himself to cry. He felt so selfish crying for what he had been through, when the girl – and oh god, he didn’t even know her name – had been the one to pay the higher price. But Agent Anderson had been right the previous night – he had no way of knowing this would happen. He wouldn’t have been able to avoid it even if he had found the killer sooner. This was a maniac who had taken the lives of almost a dozen women by now. How would have Kurt stopped him? He might have fought back enough to escape when he felt trapped, but he wouldn’t have had the chance to get her to safety as well.

When had his life turned into the worst horror movie ever written?

“Hey,” Finn muttered after a while, rubbing his back soothingly. “Let me go call work and tell them I can’t make it to training today. We can just camp on the couch all day and watch bad reality television. What do you say?”

“No, god, don’t even think about it,” Kurt said as he hastily wiped his tears away. “You are gonna go to work, and I’m gonna go to the theatre…”

Finn froze, looking surprised and even more worried than a minute ago. “Are you crazy? You can’t go to work today, Kurt. You’ve just been through a very traumatic experience.”

“I know. But I need to do something normal, and the show is what’s normal to me, Finn…”

“No one would blame you if you wanted to take a few days off after this…” Finn retorted hesitantly.

But Kurt shook his head adamantly. “No. I can’t. I have to go to work. I have to.”

Finn followed him as he walked into the living room to pick up his shoes and messenger bag. He was wringing his hands anxiously. “Please. Do it for me? I’ll feel a lot better if you stay with me today. Kurt…”

“Finn,” he paused and turned to look at him. He needed him to understand – everything could have changed the previous night. But he was still here and he still had the opportunity to keep living his dream. Staying at home with him felt like he wasn’t taking advantage of it. “I’m going to go to work. And I’ll come back tonight and we can order take out and I’ll let you coddle me then. But not now. I need to do this.”

It looked like he wanted to protest, but one of the wonderful things about Finn was that he knew when to stop pushing. Maybe he didn’t agree with what Kurt wanted to do, but he would always put his feelings aside and let him do what he thought was best. “Okay. We’ll get pizza, and watch a movie. I can pick up some strawberry cheesecake ice-cream on my way back home from training. What do you say?”

Kurt smiled softly at him. He was glad to have his brother on his side. He walked towards him and gave him a quick one-armed hug. “That sounds lovely. I’ll see you tonight.”

Finn watched him leave the apartment with an anxious look on his face, and biting his lip to stop himself from begging him to stay.

*

Once he was out of Finn’s building, Kurt looked down at his watch and then at his wrinkled clothes. He decided he had plenty of time to make a quick stop at his own place for a shower before he had to be at the theatre. He was still too tired to walk or even take the subway, so he hailed a cab. He did his best not to doze off while he sat in the backseat waiting for the car to make its way through the morning traffic.

His head a mess – memories, questions and random thoughts mingled together. He knew what he had lived wasn’t normal. He knew it was a traumatic moment. He knew it would always be there, in the back of his mind, even when time passed and he moved on. But he needed to think about how thousands of people went through the same things, harder things, impossible things every single day. How they still managed to get up in the morning and keep living their lives. He had learned to get up in the morning after his mother died. He kept going during the time his father had been in a coma when he was in high school, or during the many years of bullying. He had managed to walk with his head raised high and fight against the tide even when he was exhausted.

He would manage to do the same thing now.

Kurt lived in a lovely tree-lined street, in an apartment in a renovated brownstone. There had been times when he had struggled to pay the rent, but he had never wanted to give up this place. It had turned into a home.

The driver pulled over in front of his house as Kurt fished some cash out of his pocket. The morning breeze caressed his face when he stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk. It was almost ten in the morning by now. He wondered if he would have enough time to take a nap and eat something before he had to leave.

He walked up the steps while taking his keys out of his pocket, but stopped abruptly when he reached the door. The lock was broken. Kurt only had to give the door a little push for it to open all the way in.

His heart began beating wildly, as his breath got caught in his throat. What else could happen to him in just twenty four hours? Wasn’t witnessing a murder enough for one day? Did he have to deal with a thief as well?

Discouraged and feeling even more exhausted, Kurt stepped into his apartment. He groaned in frustration when he saw how messy his living room was. The decorative pillows on the couch had been destroyed and their filling was lying everywhere. Some of the portraits had been knocked off the shelves and there was glass all over the floor. His books were in pieces, pages ripped off of them carelessly and thrown around.

But what suddenly got his attention was the fact that both his television and laptop were still where he had last seen them. What kind of thief leaves a laptop?

A shiver went down Kurt’s spine as a thought crossed his mind. But no… it couldn’t be. Could it?

He walked to the kitchen and found it was as much of a mess as the living room. The drawers had been emptied on the floor and the contents of the fridge were sprawled all over the counters and the table. Everything was a disaster and it would take Kurt a long time to clean up, but it still didn’t mean anything, right? Maybe the thief had been looking for cash. Maybe that’s why they hadn’t taken anything…

When he walked into his bedroom, he knew for sure this was not an ordinary break-in. He knew the person who had broken into his apartment hadn’t been looking for money or expensive jewels.

“Oh my god…” He whispered, feeling his legs weaken and his blood turning into ice.

The pillows on his bed had been stabbed, and right above the headboard, on the white wall, someone had painted a red heart.

*