The Proper Way to Take Something Away

No one can take something away like Kurt can…

"She has Cooper with her."

Then I hung up.

This is the best way I can describe what happened after….

Feeling lost, I just stood there, trying to latch onto something that made sense. My body was humming, pulsing with sudden, instant energy that made me feel like I could run a thousand miles without stopping. I couldn't think. My brain was stuffed with nonsense that was swallowing each and every thought worth having whole.

A million useless thoughts ran their way around my head.

Britt was at San's house. With Cooper. Somehow she had gotten out. How had she gotten out? It was supposed to be impossible. How had he gotten out? That was even more than just impossible; it was unthinkable—or it was supposed to have been.

How much time did I have? How much time was left before a search team was sent? Had Santana called as soon as Britt and Coop showed up? Was Brittany okay? Was Cooper? Was she having a fit? Was she hurt? Had Cooper destroyed the Lopez home already? Had he hurt someone? What the fuck was I going to do once I got there?

I looked Finn. He staring at me, looking confused and concerned.

"Dude, what's wrong?" he asked.

Noise. That's what I heard—annoying, incessant, unimportant noise that just kept flying out of this boy's mouth when I had to go.

Fuck, what the fuck was I doing?

"I have to go." I said it in a rush. The words seemed to string themselves together in a tangled mess of sound.

Finn shook his head, bewildered. "What? Why?"

Why was I even talking to him when I needed Kurt?

Kurt.

My mind reeled. It was hard to focus on one thing. Why did I need him again?

Because he's Kurt, I reasoned with myself. It sounded completely logical in that moment.

He was right there next to me. His hand was warm on my shoulder still and when I turned to look at him, all I saw were more questions on his face. I didn't need his questions. I needed answers.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I have to go," I said again. "I have to go."

"Okay, Blaine," he voice calm, trying to break through the panic that had taken hold. "Okay. But what's going on? You have to tell me." I want you to tell me.

"I have to leave. I have to leave right now."

"But why?" he said, still trying to get me to cooperate. "What happened?"

"Will you come with me?" I asked, but my hand was already holding his, already pulling, my body already turning and taking his with me. I was only about half way to the door when I realized I didn't have my own car. I needed his. I needed him—for so many things.

Right at that moment though, I needed his keys and I needed his car. "Where are your keys?" I knew that I already knew the answer. I had watched him put them down. I didn't remember where, though—couldn't remember anything before that stupid football game.

"I—they're—they—"

"Go get them," I told him, pushing him gently away. "Quickly."

He ran off.

Finn was back. He said something to me. I don't know what, but I know he looked scared. Then he called Burt's name and walked off and I knew we were out of time.

"Kurt!" I called, no longer in that weird, quiet, slow-moving time state I had been in. Now everything was too fast and too much, but somehow still not fast enough. "Kurt!"

And then he was there, everything eyes scared and lost and desperate to understand, but he was still there. He was still with me.

I grabbed his keys from his hands.

Burt came out from the kitchen, Finn close behind. He stopped abruptly when his eyes landed on the both of us. He regarded us carefully, as if we might bolt if he wasn't smart about it. Smart didn't matter, though, not in this case.

"Kurt," he said very slowly, very carefully. "What's going—"

With Kurt's hand in mine, I took off like I was being chased by the unknown thing from my childhood nightmares.

Just as we cleared the doorway I heard a chair topple over. In my head, I pictured Burt and maybe even Finn running to chase after us but I didn't look back to confirm it and neither did Kurt.

What the fuck are you doing? I thought as I pulled the front door of the house open and ran us through it and then down the steps.

This is insane this is insane this is insane this is insane.

And it was, but I couldn't stop. I had committed myself to running down the shit path and it was too late turn back around so I just pushed myself to run faster and held Kurt's hand as tightly as I could.

My heart was pounding. I had my thumb on the unlock button of Kurt's keys before Burt was even out of the front door. By the time he finally made it out, Kurt was in the passenger's seat looking completely shell-shocked and I had my foot on the gas and was backing out of the driveway like my brother's life depended on it because for all I knew it did.

"Oh my god," Kurt whispered when Burt could no longer be seen futilely running after us. "Oh my god."

I was barely listening to him. All I could think was that too much had happened in not enough time and I would never catch up with it all in time to salvage the mess that had been made.

Furious at everything, I spun backwards out of the driveway into the road and then threw the car in drive. "How do I get to Santana's house from here?" I had driven there from Kurt's house once before but that had been weeks ago and I could barely keep the car in its correct lane, let alone remember twenty-something miles worth of directions.

"Why would I know?!" Kurt exploded at me, no longer stuck in his useless loop of babble. He struggled to get his seat belt on. "What the hell was that, Blaine?!"

"I don't know!" I yelled right back. Then I took a deep breath. Calm. I had to be calm. I would be calm. "Look. Just—do you have a GPS in here?"

"Because Santana's address is clearly what's important after you kidnapped me out of my own home!"

Calm went right out the goddamned window. "I DIDN'T FUCKING KIDNAP YOU!" I roared over the sound of his truth in my head, disputing his sarcasm.

I felt like I was breaking inside. I knew I needed to calm down, but I couldn't do it. I was scared, Kurt was scared, Brittany was an escapee, Cooper was involved, Santana was in danger because of it, and I was confused and lost, and Kurt was too so we both decided that screaming nonsense at each other would be the best way to handle it all.

"Well, what would you call it then?!" he threw back.

"Are you serious right now, Kurt?! You were walking towards me! And it's not like you tried to stop me or put up any kind of fight whatsoever! No one fucking forced you to get in the fucking car!"

"What was I supposed to do, Blaine?! Did you think that maybe I was too shocked to do anything but follow you?! Did you even see my dad's face?!"

I saw it alright—desperate and terrified, like I was stealing away his entire world.

"Don't blame this all on me!"

"Who should I blame it on then?!"

I noticed the red light almost before it was too late. "FUCK!" I slammed on the breaks just in time to keep us from driving directly into open traffic. Kurt's seat belt caught him. Cars zoomed by in both directions on the main road, their drivers oblivious to what could have just happened. Blood rushed in my ears. I was gripping the steering wheel for dear life.

I turned to look at Kurt, who looked absolutely terrified.

"Shit. Shit. Are you okay?"

He turned his everything eyes on me and I broke. My forehead connected with the backs of my hands as I fell forward against the steering wheel. "Jesus. I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry."

Then I felt Kurt's hand on my arm. "Let me drive," he said softly.

I twisted my head to the side to stare blankly at him.

"Please," he added.

"Yeah, fine. Okay."

With one last glance in my direction, Kurt got out of the car and walked around. I didn't even bother. I just crawled over to the passenger seat and let my body collapse. He climbed in and put on his seatbelt. I jumped a little when I suddenly felt Kurt's hand on my thigh. "What are you doing?" I asked uncaringly.

"Phone," he said softly as his hand slid into my pocket and grabbed my phone. "What's her address?"

With my arms like noodles at my sides, I told him and he typed it into my phone then took one of my hands and put the phone there for me to hold. "Read them to me."

I could do that much, I told myself. "Turn right and then keep going for a while."

We drove in silence for a while. Then, "Tell me what's going on."

Such a loaded question. "I don't know."

"Well, what do you know?"

"Cooper got out."

Kurt's mouth dropped open as he turned to stare at me in disbelief.

"Road," I reminded him in that same dead tone.

He looked forward once more. "How? Did they…?"

"Let him out?" I guessed. "That's impossible. But then again," I said with a humorless laugh, "escaping from a D5 facility is supposed to be impossible."

He didn't ask any more questions after that, but he did slip his hand in mine and that made me feel slightly better.

We spent the rest of the ride in silence. I didn't know what I would do once I saw Cooper. Strangle him probably. Punch him. Something violent. He deserved it for basically signing his own death warrant—no one had ever escaped before and if SIIPA wanted to maintain control over the D5s there would have to be an unthinkable consequence. If they didn't kill him, they would break him down to nothing—and justify it with the pretense that sacrifices must be made for the greater good of society.

Kurt came to an abrupt stop after we pulled into Santana's driveway. I was glad to find the house still standing.

Bitches ran out before I had my hand on the door handle. "He's hyperventilating."

I scrambled out of the car and the two of us took off for the house, Kurt close behind.

"Is he having a fit?" I asked. Now that I was there and I had something to do, I could think more clearly.

"Not yet. Not telekinetically. He's really messed up."

That was no surprise. He had probably been messed up from the second he stepped out of his room. He had been trapped underground for years, shut up behind thick metal walls that were carefully constructed to help him block out the voices of everyone outside his room. I knew it didn't stop the voices completely, but he said it helped a lot. There was no help for him now.

"How did they even get here?"

"I don't know. I heard a noise in the living room and they were just there. Brittany was stuck in a vision and Coop was on the fucking floor so it wasn't like either of them could answer any questions."

When we finally made it inside, we found Cooper lying curled up on his side behind one of the couches in Santana's living room, his forehead pressed firmly against his knees and his hands pulling harshly at his hair.

Brittany stood muttering to herself in the middle of the room, her eyes rolled back so far that all you could see was white.

Together the two of them made one fucked up sight.

"If the unicorn helps, the wolf won't puff the house down," Brittany said in a dead voice as she interpreted whatever future she was seeing in her mind out loud for us to hear. She was supposed to be the most powerful psychic alive, which would have been saying something if she had any clout as a psychic whatsoever. Brittany had always lived in her own little private world—one that made sense only to her—her interpretations never made any sense until after whatever it was that she saw actually happened.

Ignoring Brittany, I walked over to Cooper and very carefully dropped to my knees in front of him. I made it a point not to touch him. "Goddamn it, Coop, what did you do?"

Cooper let out a dry sob at the sound of my voice and the house creaked loudly. "No, Blaine," he moaned softly. "G'away…"

Panic shot through me. "I thought you said he wasn't having a telekinetic fit," I snapped at Santana, who had moved to stand next to Brittany.

After a quick glance around the room, she frowned in confusion. "He's not. Nothings moving—"

"It's the fucking house that's moving," I cut her off as it creaked again. "Don't you hear that?"

She blanched for a second and her arms tightened around Brittany, who whined. For a second, Santana looked like she might panic but she put a sudden stop to it, her features hardening with stubborn disbelief. "He can't—"

"He can," I insisted.

The entire house rattled in vengeful violence, the wood screaming angry sounds as the force of Cooper's telekinesis pushed it and stretched it in ways it wasn't supposed to go.

Santana's eyes went wide. "We have to get out of here then," she said in a rush. "If he makes the house cave in—"

"And how the fuck do you suggest I move him? He's in shock. Moving him could make everything worse."

"Well, we can't just stay here, Blaine! Not if he's going to tear the fucking house apart!"

"What are you saying?! That I should leave him in here to get crushed instead?!"

"No! Jesus!"

"Then what—"

I didn't get to finish. Several things happened then.

I was so focused on Santana that I didn't notice Kurt until it was way past too late.

Sometime in the middle of my back and forth with Santana, Kurt had knelt down next to Cooper. The slow moving hand in my peripherals was what caught my attention. On instinct, I looked—glanced, really—and saw that Kurt, for whatever reason, was less than seconds away from placing his hands at either side of Cooper's face.

My eyes flared as the words I had been about to say to Santana died suddenly. In my mind, I shouted for Kurt to stop, but the warning got stuck somewhere along the way from my brain to my mouth. I watched in horrified silence, picturing the chaos that would erupt, knowing it would be bad. It was one of those slow moving moments when you think to yourself, I can stop this, but for some reason you're stuck and all you do is sit there and watch it happen, wondering why.

Kurt closed the distance. He latched on to Cooper like a vice and forced Cooper's head away from his knees—Just like that, like it was nothing.

For a split second everything stopped—Cooper's breathing, the creaking wood, my heart. Cooper stared at Kurt with wide, shocked eyes and Kurt stared back. The two of them seemed to make a connection on some deeper level that was beyond my comprehension.

Then, without warning, Cooper's eyes lost their focus.

The house groaned again as Cooper's body contorted under the mental torture he couldn't escape. Every piece of furniture in the room was lifted into the air. All of it hung in ominous suspension, floating with what seemed like no effort at all, but I could see the veins in Cooper's neck strain against his skin in a futile effort to keep control.

Behind me, I heard Santana's breath leave her in a woosh. "Oh my god."

Then the quiet moment passed, Cooper's effort shattered, and his lips fell open to make room for the scream that came rushing out. Everything went flying in all directions as a war broke out in midair.

Santana tackled Brittany to the floor and yelled over the deafening noise. "Blaine!"

The sound of her scream kick started my brain. My hand shot out, grabbing hold of Kurt's wrist to try to pry him off Cooper, whose spine was bowed back in a way that was painful to look at.

Kurt reacted to my touch and turned his eyes on me. They blazed. "Let me go," he ordered with struggling vocal chords. He looked pained and sweaty, like he had just pushed himself far beyond what his body was capable of. I could only wonder why.

Everything was a mess. Santana was dragging Brittany over to the enormous fireplace in an effort to hide away from the furniture that was shooting around the room like over-sized bullets. Brittany, who was in the throes of a fit, was screaming her earlier prediction at the top of her lungs like a nonsensical mantra, "If the unicorn helps the wolf won't puff the house down if the unicorn helps the wolf won't puff the house down if the unicorn helps—!"

I had to do something, but I felt so small. Too small to be of any help. Too small to understand. Too small to tell Kurt to let the fuck go of my brother. Too small to get everyone the hell out of there.

My fingers fell helplessly away.

Kurt turned back to Cooper with an expression on his face that was almost violent, his everything eyes dark and intense as he stared down at Cooper in a chilling way that made me want to force as much space between them as I could. Kurt's hands were like claws on either side of Cooper's head, his fingertips digging into his skin. Kurt's arms shook from the force of his hold. "Look at me," he grit out, his voice like crumbling gravel.

Cooper buckled under the command and did as Kurt ordered even as his hands clamped themselves around Kurt's wrists and tightened. Neither moved, not even when the jagged side of a broken lamp swiped across Kurt's eyebrow, cutting into his skin and making him bleed.

"Don't fight it," Kurt hissed.

Cooper's eyes rolled back.

Their hold on each other grew more intense, knuckles white from the pressure.

Then Cooper's strength gave out and his body collapsed. All of the furniture that was flying through the air stopped and came crashing down. I curled in on myself to shield myself from the worst of it, gritting my teeth when a chair dropped on top of me on its way down. The room shook when the couch crash landed upside down on the other side of the room and the second one came down on top of it. Glass was sprayed everywhere along with little bits of splintered wood.

Once everything settled I looked up at the two people who meant so much to me. The bone crumbling grip Kurt had on Cooper's skull lost its intensity and turned into something soft—a gentle hold that was meant to be soothing. The two of them breathed heavily together, chests rising and falling sharply as they stared at one another like they had a secret.

I sat there silently—watching them, feeling like I was intruding on something private, which made my insides feel wrong and twisted up tight.

Kurt broke away first, releasing Cooper suddenly as he let his body fall back to slump against the wall. He looked up at the battered ceiling and just breathed. Cooper remained boneless and sprawled out on the floor and did the same.

I still sat there trying to process everything, coming up with nothing. I felt like I should ask something—I just didn't know what.

After long moments of continued silence, Cooper's head rolled to the side. He looked up at me with wet eyes. "Blaine," he said and his voice cracked.

My lips fell open, but nothing came out.

"I can't hear them," he whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears fell. He shook his head and his face crumbled with something that might have been relief. "I can't hear them."

"Who?" I forced out.

"The voices. The ones in my head. I can't hear them." More tears. "It's so quiet…" His voice was like quiet bliss.

And then I had to ask. I had to because there was just no way that what I thought Cooper was saying was what he actually meant. "What am I thinking?"

"I don't know." He sounded so fucking happy.

My eyes flicked to Kurt. The guilt in his eyes was like a knife in my heart.