Interlude: The Outside World

"What? What the hell?"

"Cooper, calm down, please sweetheart-" His mother's pixelated face was streaked with tears, and he couldn't tell how much of the jumping audio was his poor internet connection or her cracking voice.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Cooper yelled. He didn't think he could remember a time feeling so out of control, which was absurd because he should have grown used to this sort of thing by now, he should be immune...

But instead a tight snake of terror and guilt and panic was winding its way around his throat and god he couldn't breathe!

Why did he feel like this?

"Your dad is in the next room talking with the police-"

"The police should be arresting those shit-poor excuses for doctors and teachers right now!"

"Cooper, please..." His mom's voice cracked, and even from hundreds of miles away, staring at her face on his laptop, he could tell she was a moment from breaking.

"I'm coming home."

"No, no Cooper, please don't. Blaine wouldn't want you to, and neither do we. You need to live your own life, sweetheart. We, we wanted you to know what happened, but please, don't come home again. You can't afford to keep leaving your life like this."

Cooper blinked, somehow quelling the storm inside himself to properly look at his mother. A horrible, frozen finger crept down his spine. "They don't think they're going to find him alive, do they." It wasn't a question, his voice was too flat for it to have been a question.

His hands curled into fists.

"Cooper, please, don't come home. We'll call you if there's any change, but there's nothing you can do whether you're in New York or here. It's all in the hands of the police now."

Cooper laughed, bitter, "Well, frankly Mom, fuck that. I'm booking myself on a flight now."

"Cooper!"

He felt his mouth twist, and the cruel words tumbled out before he could stop himself, "I'm not Blaine, Mom. You can't control my life."

He cut the connection, and promptly punched the desk with a wretched scream that didn't make him feel better in any way. His emotions were a chaotic mess, churning underneath the surface of his skin.

Blaine had disappeared in the dead of night, from a secure facility. Sure, Dalton wasn't as high-end as the place the doctors had been planning to transfer Blaine, but from what his parents had been saying recently, Blaine would have been in no shape to run away without help.

His mom had said that Dalton was checking security footage now, but Cooper knew already.

Kurt.

Fuck.

00000

John's heart lurched when he caught sight of that familiar coif of dark brown hair amidst the airport arrivals. He felt selfish for being relieved at seeing his older son. Often, especially when Cooper had been younger, John worried that his eldest took on too much responsibility when it came to Blaine, that Cooper wasn't leading his own life. But at times like these, he wanted his family close.

"Hey Dad," Cooper smiled half-heartedly, sinking into his father's arms. John's throat caught at the undercurrent of exhaustion and dull worry emulating from his son – a direct reflection of his own tumult of emotions, "You didn't have to come, I could've got a cab."

John shrugged, "I needed to get out of the house."

They walked in silence to the car, but they had barely pulled away from the airport when Cooper stated bluntly, "It was Kurt, wasn't it?"

John sighed. "That's what it's starting to look like. He told Burt that he was going to a friend's house for the night, and he told all his friends – including his stepbrother – that he wasn't feeling very well and was going to stay home. No one's seem him since before Blaine disappeared."

Cooper snorted, and a burst of doubt shocked through John. He frowned; Cooper wasn't usually this bad at projecting. He was usually so level-headed. "And how did Mom take the news?"

"Which part? Blaine being missing, or the fact that Kurt had a hand in helping him run away?" John rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly feeling so empty.

Cooper didn't answer, a soft anger stewing underneath his skin in a way that John couldn't ignore, but also had no idea how to address. Mainly because he had yet to sort out how he was feeling.

He kept replayed the lecture the police and doctors had given them when Blaine was first realised to be missing... so cold and detached, the usual spiel that John had been hearing since Blaine had been diagnosed. Sure, this one was disguised as a police investigation, but it was still the same message.

You have to prepare yourselves for the worst.

Blaine has been deteriorating for some time now.

You know that we discussed how even Dalton was becoming too much for him.

Without access to the proper, trained care, Blaine will be at serious risk of a fatal grade empathic episode.

I'm so sorry.

John pulled up to his house, noting the car of the family liaison officer still out front. He was about to get out when his son broke the silence.

"You know what's the worst thing?" Cooper asked, his voice jerky.

"What?" John wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"The fact that I gave up. I let the doctors make me believe that Blaine was gone. When you called me the other day to tell me that he was being moved out of Dalton, I felt relieved. I was glad that he'd finally reached the point where he didn't know what was happening anymore, that he didn't know that he was losing his mind, that soon he might have some peace. I was fucking glad. I gave up on my little brother because, what? Suddenly it got too hard? Because I could see the end in sight and I didn't want to try anymore?"

"No...Cooper, it's okay, we all thought-" John's throat caught, unable to continue against the tidal wave of Cooper's exploding emotions, colliding with his own.

"It's not fucking okay! Kurt knew! Kurt didn't give up, and Kurt rescued him from that place! Blaine was terrified and falling apart and we just aban-d-doned him! We l-left him, we fu-ucking left him and now, and no-w..."

Cooper punched the inside of the door, his body jerking with an onslaught of desperate, gasping sobs. John frantically twisted in the confines of his car seat, gathering his son in his arms as the young man fell apart entirely, their mingled emotions broken and twisted with equal measures of anger and guilt.

"I know. We screwed up. But we'll find him. We'll find them both. I promise."

He could tell Cooper didn't believe him. But then, he didn't believe himself either.

00000

Burt wrenched the door open, not bothering to try and tamp down on the anger he knew he was radiating. He really must have looked ready to kill, because the visitor on his porch actually took a half step back. Burt deflated, suddenly guilty, "John... Sorry, I thought you were..." He gestured dismissively at the pair of news vans staked outside his house.

John Anderson shrugged tiredly, "I understand. We've got our own share to deal with." He glanced behind him, his whole body seeming to sag in defeat as a few reporters started to emerge, like termites out of the woodwork.

"Mr Anderson! Mr Anderson! How do you feel, knowing that the son of this man is responsible for Blaine's abduction?"

Burt was ready to rip into the nosey assholes, but a white hot flicker of pure anger from John stopped him short. It was like electricity had shocked the other man rigid, the tired, defeated posture suddenly melted away to nothing. He whirled on the reporters, who stopped short. While Burt was sure they must have low ES levels to be able to stomach harassing traumatised people as a part of their everyday job, even they couldn't ignore the hostility rolling off John. "Abduction? You sick lowlifes are actually claiming that Kurt – a child – abducted Blaine, like some sort of psychopath? Kurt is as much missing as Blaine is, as scared as Blaine is, and as lost as Blaine is. This town isn't missing one teenager, it's missing two, so wrap your heads around that damn quick, or I'll pull you all up in court for slander so fast you'll be unemployed by dinner!"

The reporters seemed to freeze in place, and for a moment Burt thought they might have got the message, until a brave one shot back, "Kurt Hummel is registered as 0.5 on the scale, but at no point did his family, his doctors, or the teachers at McKinley see fit to restrict his contact with children higher up the scale. As a result, your son, an at-risk, high-ES minor, was exposed to empathic stimulus that independent medical advisors now believe was a significant factor in your son's deteriorated health. Can you really stand by the Hummels with this knowledge, Mr Anderson, when the parents of Lima are demanding a reassessment of McKinley's policy on mixing teenagers of varying ES levels?"

Burt gaped, his words stolen by the rage bubbling in his chest. John was equally frozen, and Burt felt the other man's wrenching horror and disbelief in his chest as if it were his own.

"Well the parents of Lima can go screw themselves!" Burt's head whipped up, only to see his step-son hanging out of the upstairs window, his large frame jammed into the open space. "So leave us the hell alone! Kurt and Blaine were the best thing to happen to each other, and the best thing to happen to McKinley!"

"You heard him," Burt said, quietly proud. "Now get the hell off my property before I call the cops and have you done for trespassing!"

He beckoned John inside, and as soon as the door shut behind him, the man slumped against the wall. "I can't believe people are saying those things about Kurt... I'm so sorry..."

Burt shook his head, "None of that. Besides, if I believed that we could speak for the actions of our headstrong kids, then I'd be apologising for Kurt's behaviour. But we can't. Kurt and Blaine are practically adults, and I don't think anyone predicted things would turn out this way. No one knew Blaine would deteriorate as quickly as he did, and for kids as in love as those two are, that's scary, no matter how much we think we've prepared them."

Carole emerged from the living room, her eyes kind as she laid a hand on John's shoulder, "Come on and sit down. We can catch each other up on the stock answers everyone's been feeding us."

John shook his head, "I just want to know that he's okay. That they're both okay..."

"They are."

The adults turned as one, the moment broken by Finn's entrance. He stood on the fourth step from the bottom, fidgeting and practically radiating guilt. Carole was the first to shake herself, "Finn Christopher Hudson, you explain what you mean right this instant. If you've been keeping information from the police – from us –so help me I will ground you so long you'll still be enduring my wrath when you're in a retirement home!"

"We helped them!" Finn blurted out, arms wrapped around himself. "We all did. Kurt was getting these letters from Blaine while he was at Dalton, and they kept getting worse! Then the day we broke him out Kurt got one last one and it was like Blaine was dying and we had to do something! Kurt's the only one who's ever been any good for Blaine! Every time he's freaking out, or scared, or glee club's emotions were getting too much for him – Kurt could fix that! And then Blaine was sent to Dalton, and it was killing both of them but everyone was too obsessed with what the doctors said was right to try and change anything!" Finn's voice cracked, his voice rising to a defensive shout, "I don't know where they are, none of us do, but I know that they're together, and that means that they're going to be okay."

"Finn, it doesn't work like that..." Carole said.

"Says who?" Finn shot back, "Seriously, Mom, says who? Because all I know is that Kurt and Blaine were good for each other until they weren't, and they weren't as soon as Blaine went to Dalton, as soon as Kurt was made to believe that he was anything other than great for Blaine. So whatever, Mom, ground me. But I'm not sorry I helped my brother get Blaine out of that nightmare. None of New Directions are."

00000

Emily had a headache again, her temple throbbing from the emotional whiplash she had experienced over the past few days. Sweeping her eyes over her sizable lounge, and the numerous occupants, she couldn't believe how it had come to this. All she wanted now was to hold her baby in her arms, but still they seemed no closer.

A pair of officers from the Lima stood facing the parents and children of McKinley High School's glee club. The officers were accompanied by another pair, agents from the FBI's Sense Protection and Incident unit. Blaine and Kurt's case had reached national news yesterday, and with Blaine's high ES level and both boys being underage... everything had just escalated horrifically.

Still, the New Directions kept silent. Despite pleas of logic and threats of ramifications, the teenagers were like a stone wall.

She couldn't take this for much longer. She felt like she was suffocating, snakes of guilt, doubt, terror, anger, all twisted angrily in her chest, and one day soon they were going to close around her lungs and never let go. The room seemed to close in on her, and her skin itched with inaction.

She had to get out of here, she had to leave, she had to escape.

It was cowardly, but she just couldn't look at their stubborn, earnest young faces anymore. She hated them. She hated them so, so much, because they reminded her of how hopeful she had once been, how naively she had believed that Blaine would fight the odds.

They lived in their happy fairy tales of true love conquering all, of the evil doctors manipulating the young prince into thinking he was lost, of the brave knight sweeping in at the last minute and saving the day with a kiss.

But the real world couldn't work that way. Emily had stopped believing in fairytales the day her son's first best friend landed him in hospital, and she caught a glimpse of what it would be to watch him fade away until he was lost to her forever.

So why did she feel guilty? Why did she feel as if she had done the wrong thing? Why was she the evil mother in this Disney story?

Fairytales didn't exist, good wouldn't always out.

The authorities were looking for her son's body, and perhaps now, they were even losing hope of finding Kurt alive.

But Emily didn't believe that Blaine was dead, even if all the doctors said that there was no way he could have survived this long without medical care or sense suppressants. And she didn't believe that Kurt would have given up, that the only reason he was still missing was because he was scared to face the consequences.

She was starting to believe in fairytales again.

A few hours later, Emily felt a soft brush of tired warmth against the edge of her senses. Her husband stood in the doorway of their bedroom, his eyes hollow and lost. "They're gone. No luck – kids all tell the same story. They split at the house of one of the girls, and Kurt drove off with Blaine. Agent Wilson isn't convinced that's all to it, but it was getting late. The parents are going to try again individually and let us know, but until one of them spills, there's nothing we can do."

"This is all my fault." The words fell from her lips without thought, a whispered confession finally breaking free.

John frowned, coming to sit next to her on the bed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "I've thought the same of myself these past few days. It's no one's fault, Emily, don't start thinking that because you won't be able to stop."

"But it is, you don't understand. I talked to Kurt, I talked him into breaking up with Blaine. I essentially manipulated a teenager into thinking he was killing his boyfriend just by being with him!" She felt John's arm slip from her shoulders, but he didn't move from her side, and her words kept spilling faster and faster, "At the time I convinced myself that I was right, that it was for the best, the best for Blaine, but god how could I have done that? I was just so scared that we were losing him, and now he's gone and the one person I tried to push away from him is the only one who has a chance of keeping him alive right now. I just... I just want Blaine back... I want them both back... I'm so sorry..."

John was quiet, and while she knew that she must be projecting horrifically right now, he was unreadable. His jaw was set, and he wasn't looking at her. In a sudden motion he stood and said, "I'm going for a drive."

"John-"

He held a hand up, halting her words, "Please, Emily, I need to go for a drive and clear my head before I say something I regret."

"Okay." Emily swallowed back her tears. "For the record? You can't hate me more than I hate myself."

John shook his head, his voice shaking with an emotion Emily didn't want to try and identify. "Hating you isn't going to bring our son back, but that doesn't mean I can be in the same room as you right now."

She nodded, waiting frozen in position until she heard the front door slam. She scrubbed at her face, and was standing when Cooper slipped around the doorway, leaning his shoulder against the frame, his arms folded. "Coop... How much did you hear?"

The face of her eldest son was like carved stone, his eyes chips of ice as he stared her down. "He'll forgive you. When we find Blaine, Dad will forgive you, eventually. And we both know that Blaine can't hold a grudge for more than five minutes. But for the record? I'm not Dad, and I'm not Blaine. I know why you said what you did to Kurt, and I understand it. Hell, maybe if our places had been reversed, I would have done the exact same thing. God knows we're the most alike in this family when it comes to Blaine. But I won't forgive you for this. Not when Blaine's back, not a week from now, not a year."

"Cooper, please, sweetheart..." Emily's words choked, and she didn't know what to say.

"No. Blaine was in Dalton because of you. Blaine got worse because of you." Cooper cut over her, his anger as cold steel against her senses. "Hating you may not help bring Blaine back, but it also doesn't stop me looking for him. And when we find him, you're going to be the one to tell him what you did."

And then Cooper was gone, and Emily was alone. Her whole family was torn apart, and there was no fairytale ending in sight.

TBC