It had been the longest day. Finn’s apartment was quiet, almost as if it were deserted. As soon as he and Rachel had arrived, she had murmured something about needing a shower and disappeared down the hall, leaving Finn alone, feeling useless, helpless.

When he had heard about what had happened in the locker room, he hadn’t believed it. Finn had thought Agent Berry was with him only for precaution. Why would this mad man go after him? But, then again, why would he go after Kurt? Nothing made sense.

A team from the FBI had arrived at the stadium, led by Agent Lopez. Rachel had to sit in an ambulance, feeling defeated, and allow a doctor to examine her eyes. They were mostly irritated, and it wasn’t as bad as it felt, but what bothered her most was her missed chance. She had been so close… how had she let him escape?

Agent Lopez drove them back to the apartment. “Do you want to go home? I can stay with Mr. Hudson tonight.” She offered a million times, but Rachel had just shook her head.

Finn was secretly glad - there was something about Santana Lopez that intimidated him. He preferred Rachel’s company, and though she was tiny beside him, strangely, she made him feel safe.

Now, he sat in his living room. He couldn’t even bring himself to turn on the TV, to pretend things were okay. He simply sat there, wondering what was going to happen next. Would this be his life now? Would he ever see Kurt again? Was there anyone capable of catching this guy?

One of the floorboards creaked and he looked up. Rachel was standing there, wrapped in her fluffy pink robe and with her hair up in a messy, wet bun.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought you were asleep already. I just want to grab an apple or something, and I’ll leave you to rest…”

“No, stay,” he replied earnestly. Her eyes widened slightly. “I mean… I’m hungry, too. We should have dinner.”

“I can make…” she began to say, but Finn stood up, shaking his head.

“Let me.” He could smell Rachel’s body wash from across the room. It was sweet, captivating. “It’s the least I can do.”

It seemed Agent Berry wanted to protest, but she looked too exhausted to even try. Up close, Finn could see her eyes were still a little red. He opened the fridge and scanned its contents, wondering what to make.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, as he grabbed some basil and garlic. He could make some pesto, boil some pasta… it was the perfect meal to cheer someone up. Or at least that was what his mother used to say. He almost smiled as he remembered how many times his mother had put a steaming plate of food in front of him, ran her fingers through his hair, and whispered that things would be okay.

God, how he missed her.

“Honestly?” Rachel sighed, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Terrible. I always prided myself at being great at my job. I had him right in front of me and I couldn’t…” She stopped abruptly and looked down at her hands, clearly embarrassed. “I shouldn’t tell you this. It’s not professional. You need to feel safe with me, not even more worried that…”

“I do,” Finn interrupted. He looked surprised at his own words, and Rachel snapped her gaze up at him, just as shocked. “I mean… I…” He busied himself looking for some cheese. “You… you are very good. Just because you didn’t catch him today doesn’t mean you can’t or you never will. I can tell you’re good at this.”

It looked like Rachel wanted to smile. “You really think so? Because I would definitely understand if you want to request a different agent…”

“I don’t. I want you,” Finn answered, and he spluttered like a fish out of the water. “I mean… you know what I mean. I don’t want you. I just want you to stay. To take care of me. To be with me.” He blinked, unable to believe he was being such an idiot. “I…”

Rachel laughed. The sound filled the kitchen, making Finn stop blubbering. “I get it. Don’t worry.”

As he cooked, Finn felt a weird tension inside of him, like a knot in his belly. Rachel attempted conversation, but every topic died as suddenly as it started, and he wondered if she felt the tension, too. What was it? Probably something he had said, Finn decided sadly. He always spoke before he could think what he wanted to say. His big mouth had been putting him in trouble since high school.

Determined to help, Rachel set the table, ignoring Finn’s protests. The noise of clicking cutlery cut through the silence that had suddenly set between them.

When Finn set her plate before her on the table, Rachel caught his hand. Her dark eyes settled into his, honest, vulnerable, intent. Finn realized he had stopped breathing.

“I’ll catch him. I’ll bring your brother home,” she said softly, her words a fierce promise.

His hand seemed to act without his authorization. It turned, intertwining Rachel’s fingers with his own, squeezing gently. Now it was her who seemed to stop breathing, and Finn felt like he was being pulled towards her, like there was an invisible force, bringing them together like two magnets. He leaned closer, his gaze flickering between her eyes and her lips…

A phone rang, making them jump apart so quickly that Finn elbowed one of the glasses, sending water over the table and down to the floor. Rachel clumsily fished her cellphone out of her robe’s pocket while Finn reached for some paper towels to clean up the mess.

“I… need to take this. It’ll be just a minute. Uhm… you can start eating, I’ll be right back,” she said, as she fled from the room as quickly as her furry slippers allowed her to.

Finn threw the wet paper towers into the trash and then let himself fall onto his chair, hiding his face in his hands. “What the hell did I just do?”

As if things weren’t already complicated enough.

*

The hand closed around his throat. Kurt gasped for breath, desperately, but he could feel the fingers tightening, keeping air from entering his lungs. Everything around him was dark - he couldn’t see where he was, if there was something near that could help him defend himself. He flailed his arms around, trying to catch the person who was choking him, but no matter how much he moved, he couldn’t seem to find the right angle…

A knife flashed before his face, completely out of nowhere. His eyes watered as he stared at it in horror. It was drenched in blood, drops dripping down the blade thickly. Kurt didn’t know exactly how he knew it, but he was certain it was his own blood.

A slimy green gaze appeared in front of him. The man was smiling. “Such pretty blue eyes…”

Kurt woke up abruptly, sitting up in bed. He was choking, just like in the dream, but it wasn’t a hand around his throat this time. It was his own terror, his own screams trying to push their way out of his lips. He covered his mouth with his trembling hands and closed his eyes tightly, hating the hot fat tears that slipped down his cheeks when he did so.

He reached for the bedside table and switched the lamp on. He couldn’t bear the heavy darkness around him. He looked down at himself, almost expecting to find a dark red stain in his shirt, but there was nothing in the slightly-wrinkled navy fabric.

Kurt Hummel wasn’t a stranger to bad dreams. He’d had them often enough when he was younger: first when he was just a little boy who had recently lost his mother, and then when he was in high school and just walking to class filled him with the most asphyxiating dread. That didn’t mean he had learned how to deal with them or that he had managed to get used to them. No, they still felt as paralyzing as ever. Especially now, he discovered. It was even worse than when he dreamed of bullies and bruises, sudden attacks and slurs.

He couldn’t stand to stay in bed for another second. He needed to move. He needed something to remove the chilling sensation travelling through his body.

Kurt thought back to the nights his father would sit with him at the kitchen table after he’d had a nightmare. He thought of two pairs of hands wrapped around cups of chamomile tea, about the comfort of the warmth against his palms. He thought of his father’s gentle, patient voice as he promised his son that something better was coming, that not every day of his life would feel like a bad horror movie.

God, how he missed him.

He wasn’t sure how late it was, so Kurt moved quietly through the house, not wanting to wake Blaine. He would just make himself a cup of tea, maybe find something to read, or anything that would take his mind off the nightmare, before he tried to get a few more hours of sleep.

But he had nothing to worry about, because apparently Agent Anderson wasn’t the kind of man who ever slept. The light in the kitchen was on, and Kurt could hear him moving around outside, walking along the gallery. It didn’t take him long to realize Blaine was on the phone, and that he had probably gone outside to keep the conversation from waking Kurt.

Kurt smiled a little to himself, and decided he would ask Blaine if he wanted some tea, too. Maybe some midnight conversation was all he needed to feel a little better…

“Have you figured out how he broke into the stadium?” Blaine was asking whoever was on the other side. His words made Kurt stop just as abruptly as he had woken up. “It was full of people, security checks… that was a huge risk.”

There was a pause while Blaine listened to the reply. Kurt’s heart was beating so hard he was afraid it would break through his ribcage.

“Still, we need extra back-up in situations like this. I’m just glad Rachel’s fine,” Blaine sounded restless, like he couldn’t take being so far from the action. “What about Mr. Hudson? Did he have to see a doctor?”

When he heard his brother’s name, Kurt’s whole world seemed to collapse.

He had hoped they would be talking about some other case that also involved a stadium and an agent named Rachel. He had hoped that being trapped in the middle of nowhere, removed from everything he knew and loved, would be enough to make sure his brother stayed safe.

But what if that monster truly hurt his brother? What if one day Kurt went back to New York to find Finn wasn’t there waiting for him?

It’s me he wants, Kurt thought desperately. Why am I hiding? Why am I risking Finn’s life? What the hell am I doing here?

Kurt backed away from the kitchen, away from the conversation, away from Blaine. He couldn’t think straight, but there was only one thing that was clear to him right now: he needed to get back to his brother.

Looking around wildly, Kurt’s gaze fell on the car keys by the front door. He was crossing the room and snatching them up before he even knew what he was doing.

It was a warm night, but the breeze that hit Kurt’s face when he stepped outside seemed ice-cold. It wasn’t until he stepped on the grass that he realized he was barefoot. But shoes didn’t seem important - if he went back inside to get his things, it would mean the time it would take him to get to Finn it would be even longer. He couldn’t even wait another second.

Kurt got into the car. His hands were shaking so badly that it took a few tries before he managed to fit the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, the sound too loud in the quietness of the countryside. Kurt gripped the steering wheel tightly and drove towards the gate.

Behind him, he heard the front door opening, and saw Blaine coming out of the house through the rearview mirror.

“Kurt! Kurt, stop!”

Kurt didn’t want to listen to him. He reached the wooden gate next to the welcoming Bahay Ranch sign. He had no choice but to exit the car to open the gate. His feet hurt when he stepped onto the gray broken stones that made up the path from the gate to the house. But he still didn’t care - he walked and pulled the latch insistently, realizing he hadn’t grabbed the key for the lock.

“Kurt…” Blaine’s voice was a lot closer now. He felt him stop just a few steps behind him. Kurt still didn’t turn and kept fidgeting with the latch. “Kurt, please. What are you doing?”

Kurt hated admitting defeat, but there was no way to open the gate without the key. He should have kept driving, crash straight against it, maybe it would have… but no. The wood looked sturdy, permanent, unbeatable.

Unlike him.

“What happened to my brother?” He asked, almost in a whisper. He felt as if all his strength had vanished with his hopes of getting away.

Blaine was beside him now. His eyes looked even darker out here in the endless Maryland night. They wandered over Kurt, as if searching him for injuries, for bruises. “Nothing. Your brother is okay.”

“I heard you on the phone,” Kurt muttered, finally turning to face him. He knew there were tears on his face, but for once, he didn’t care if anyone saw him break down. “What happened?”

He saw Blaine swallow visibly. He seemed disquieted. “Why don’t we go back inside and we…?”

“No,” Kurt interrupted. He still held on to the latch, as if it was the only thing keeping him upright anymore. “I need to know. Tell me.”

Blaine sighed very slowly, his eyes still on Kurt. Kurt could almost feel their presence on him, their heat. "The killer got into the stadium. The locker room, more precisely.” When Kurt gasped, Blaine took one more step towards him, as if wanting to comfort him. But he didn’t touch him. “Nothing happened to Finn. He was out in the field, didn’t even know something was wrong until it was all over. The killer attacked Rachel, agent Berry, and then got away.”

Kurt closed his eyes, willing his heart to go back to its normal rate. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” Blaine replied as calmly as he could. “No one got hurt.”

“But he got away,” Kurt whispered.

Blaine looked like it pained him to reply. “Yes.”

Kurt let go of the gate to cover his face with his hands. He hated this. He hated every little bit of this.

Blaine’s hand was suddenly on his arm, as if holding him up in case Kurt’s legs gave up. “Ssh, hey. It’s fine. He’s fine…”

Kurt looked up at him. They were so close that Kurt could see every speck of gold in Blaine’s eyes, even in the deep darkness of the night. “He is all I have left, Blaine. It’s just Finn, and me, and no one else. I can’t lose him. I can’t lose my brother.”

Blaine’s breath stuttered and his fingers tightened slightly in his arm. “Kurt…”

“I can’t lose my brother,” Kurt repeated, and he felt as if every one of those words were somehow seeping into Blaine. It looked like they hit him.

“You won’t lose him,” Blaine said. It wasn’t the first promise he’d made to him. But for some reason, Kurt still believed him. “Just… please, Kurt. Just let me keep you safe.”

Kurt felt like he was back in his dream. He suddenly couldn’t breathe. As he looked at Blaine, watched the earnestness in his handsome face, felt the firm grip of his hand on his arm and the soft and warm caress of his breath against his own face, Kurt realized he couldn’t say no to this man.

Not when he asked like that.

He nodded very slowly. “Okay.”

Blaine looked so relieved that, in other circumstances, Kurt would have laughed.

They drove the car back towards the house. Once they were inside, Blaine made tea for the both of them, and they sat in silence at the kitchen table, steam rising from their mugs and the night growing older outside the window.

After a few sips, Kurt felt calmed enough to speak. “Can you tell me everything that happened, please?”

Blaine launched into an explanation without even trying to convince Kurt that there was no need for him to know anything else, that the situation was already handled. He simply told Kurt everything he wanted to know, and answered every single question he had.

When Blaine finished talking, Kurt simply stared into the bottom of his empty mug, and said, “I can’t do this if I don’t know what’s happening back home. I can’t be hidden here without getting any news from my brother. I’m not asking much of you. Just… if there’s anything to know, please… tell me?”

Blaine didn’t say anything. He just looked into Kurt’s eyes and nodded.

Kurt sighed in relief. It wasn’t enough, but it was better than nothing.

Blaine suddenly got his phone out of his pocket. He dialed a number and waited for the call to connect. When it did, he simply said. “Hey, I know it’s late, but… can you put him on the phone?”

Kurt looked at him in confusion, and accepted the phone from Blaine without a word, not sure what was happening.

“Hello?”

When Kurt realized it was Finn’s voice on the other side, he almost wept. “Finn? Hi.”

“Kurt? Oh my god, are you okay?” Finn asked, as Blaine subtly got up and left the kitchen to give him some privacy. “I thought we weren’t allowed to communicate. Is something wrong?”

“No,” Kurt reassured him quickly. “No, everything’s fine. But I heard you had a bit of a day. How are you?”

Finn told him what he already knew - that the killer had slipped into the stadium, nearly blinded agent Berry, and then got away. Kurt would have listened to him reading the dictionary or the phone book. He sounded okay. He sounded alive.

“What about you? I know you can’t tell me where you are, but tell me anything you can. Is agent Anderson too much of a bore?” Finn said, and he seemed as eager to keep talking as Kurt felt.

“No, he isn’t,” Kurt whispered. He closed his eyes. “He is pretty amazing.”

Kurt insisted Finn told him everything about the game. He didn’t understood half of what Finn said, but he simply didn’t want the conversation to end. As Finn spoke of a game he had absolutely no interest in, Kurt realized he had never loved his brother more.

They eventually had to say goodbye. Kurt didn’t want to abuse Blaine’s kindness. He put the phone on the table and just sat there by himself for a few minutes, basking in the relief. Finn was okay. He had heard his voice. Maybe Kurt could get a few hours of sleep without any more nightmares tonight.

Kurt walked into the living room. Blaine was sitting on the couch, flipping through a book, clearly waiting. He looked up and sent a soft smile Kurt’s way.

“Feeling better?” He asked.

Kurt simply moved towards him, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up. Before Blaine could even react, Kurt was holding him tightly, burying his face in the crook of his neck, his hands firmly pressed to Blaine’s back. Blaine stood there, arms hanging limply from his sides, for what felt like eternity. But then he was hesitantly holding Kurt back.

“Thank you,” Kurt murmured into his ear, and he would have sworn he felt Blaine shiver in his arms.

Reluctantly, Kurt let go. He smiled at Blaine one last time, and then retreated down the hallway and back to the bedroom. The ranch was as silent as ever as he slipped back into bed. This time, when he closed his eyes, no bad dreams came.

*