Kurt didn't tell anyone this, but he was scared to fall asleep. Luckily, the heavy cast made getting comfortable difficult so it was easier to stay awake at night. He was discharged from the hospital two days ago, much to Brittany's dismay: "I'm going to miss having you as a neighbor, Kurt!"

He was going back to school tomorrow, cast and all, so he was begging for a long, dreamless night. Nonetheless, he feared that when he'd wake up, he'd lose more memories.

The doctors told Kurt that he was literally moments away from dying – like an extra mile stretch on the interstate or a few more cars in traffic would have been the difference between living and dying. But Kurt had had a dream – and he spent long, sleepless nights convincing himself it was a dream – while he was dying, and it was the reason he didn't want to dream again. It was too vivid.

Before Kurt fell asleep, his mind was back in his car, the night of his accident. He had been upset, but Kurt couldn't figure out why. And there had been an argument? And he was calling to someone? But he'd gone to visit Brittany by himself. He could remember the drive – vaguely – and then the accident, and then his odd dreams that followed. His memories were scattered and he couldn't understand why.

"You haven't been forgetting things, have you?" Kurt asked Brittany a night ago, when Brittany sneaked over to his room after visiting hours.

"Yeah, actually!" Brittany said, sounding far too delighted by this news. "It's like there are holes in my head."

"What do you mean?"

"Like, when I'm thinking of a memory, it's only giving me bits and pieces. A lot of my memories don't make sense."

"Like they're missing something," Kurt concluded. Brittany nodded.

And since that conversation, Kurt's been going back to certain memories, trying to fill in the holes, as Brittany said.

Tonight when he started to dream, all he saw was white – and nothing else.

No, Kurt thought. This was the same dream he had after the car accident.

Kurt started to walk into the light, slowly, cautiously. This version wasn't as vivid and real. Maybe it's a memory? Kurt waited for the holes that he figured would ultimately appear.

The closer he got to the light, the dimmer it got and the clearer the scene he was walking into became, until the light only surrounded him like a mist. In front of him, as real as it had been the first time, was the Eiffel Tower.

"Look around," Kurt heard a woman's voice say. "Kurt and Brittany aren't here."

Kurt's ears perked up, and he followed the voice to a girl and a boy leaning against a short, metal fence, turned away from the Tower.

"We're free," she claimed, although she sounded horribly sad.

Kurt didn't understand their conversation, especially because he was only getting a small fraction of it.

He started to draw nearer, like he was supposed to. He already knew what was coming because it already happened.

What should have happened was that he'd start towards the pair, and then feel a hand tug at his own. When he'd turn, he'd see his mother – older, but still recognizable – and she would beckon for him to follow her: "Not just yet, Kurt," his mother would say. Then he'd wake up.

But now, Kurt was standing a foot away from the two talking and no one was coming.

"Come on, Blaine. I have a lot to tell you," she said, already walking away.

Was this the Blaine who Brittany had mentioned?

"Blaine!" Kurt called out. But the figures continued to walk away. "Blaine! Blaine!"

"Shhh," a voice hushed.

Suddenly, Kurt jerked awake, gasping for breath. Darkness crashed all around him, but his eyes gradually adjusted.

"I'm right here," the same voice whispered.

Jumping against the springs in his bed, making his sprained wrist throb, Kurt looked to his left to see a person standing at his bed side. He reached, automatically to his right, grabbing his alarm clock, tugging the cord from out of the wall, and then threw it at the person.

"Hey!" the stranger yelped, catching the clock; his voice sounded vaguely familiar.

"Who are you?" Kurt breathed, his voice quivering.

The guy stepped into the moonlight, and Kurt jolted in surprise..

"I'm still dreaming," Kurt muttered, falling back into his pillows. "You're Blaine – from my dream."

"From your dream?" he asked. His face was crumpled up, confused.

"Yes, you were in the dream-" Kurt cut off. He looked away blankly and then continued, "I'm talking to a figment of my imagination."

"Kurt," Blaine said, sitting on Kurt's bed. The mattress dipped under his weight. Gaping, Kurt drew his eyes up to meet Blaine's. "You aren't dreaming. This isn't your imagination."

"I don't know you!" Kurt insisted. Blaine pursed his lips.

"Just tell me about the dream," Blaine urged. "Just tell me what you saw. I was there?"

Kurt stared at him; Blaine just raised his eyebrows in response. Kurt decided to play along and tell Blaine the dream.

"It was white," Kurt started, "and there was this light, so as I started walking, it faded, and then I was looking up at the Eiffel Tower." Blaine's jaw clenched, but he didn't say anything. "I mean, obviously it was a dream. One minute I'm inside my wrecked car and the next I'm in France?"

"Did you have this dream the night you were in the accident?" Blaine asked.

"Yes," Kurt said cautiously.

"Okay, go on," Blaine urged.

"Well, I heard my name. Some girl said it. She said something like, 'Kurt and Brittany aren't here.' Then I came closer and saw you."

"That was Santana," Blaine said simply.

Kurt's stomach twisted as his heart skipped a beat. Santana? The other person Brittany was talking about?

"How do you know her?" Kurt asked.

"She's my friend."

"And how does she know Brittany?"

Blaine raised his eyebrows. "They're friends too, only Brittany doesn't remember." Kurt stared at him sceptically. "I know. It sounds insane. But ever since both of your accidents, you and Brittany have forgotten some very important things."

"How did you know?" Kurt asked, shocked and a little worried.

"Is there a lot?" Blaine questioned patiently.

"There's just a lot of holes," Kurt clarified, shutting his eyes.

"Like your memories aren't complete?" Blaine finished, scooting a inch or two closer.

"Yeah," he said.

"Like...the day of your mother's funeral. You were in the tree house...talking to yourself?" Blaine said, carefully choosing his words. Kurt searched his brain, trying to retrieve the memory, but then Blaine was talking again. "Or the time you went to the amusement park...by yourself. Or the night of the car crash-"

"Stop!" Kurt hadn't stopped thinking about the night of the accident.

"There's something missing in all of those stories, right?" Blaine asked softly.

Kurt nodded, his whole body feeling tired and distant, like he was just watching in on this all happening.

"You know us, Kurt. You just don't remember that you do. And I know that doesn't make sense, but you talked to Brittany about us days ago."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm what's missing from all those memories," Blaine said, his face open and gentle. It seemed impossible, but Blaine was sincere, and for some reason, Kurt wanted to believe him – maybe even did believe him. "The night of your accident, we fought. I thought leaving would make you safe, but it was the exact opposite."

"And that dream...?"

"It wasn't a dream. You were probably right about to die. How'd you get out?"

"My mom. She lead me away."

Blaine smiled, nodding. "It makes sense."

"But how did that accident just make me forget you?"

"It's a really long story," Blaine said.

Kurt may have felt afraid. He may have felt confused, but Blaine seemed to have all the answers he'd been asking. Blaine seemed to be the answer, so Kurt relaxed against the headboard and smiled. "I have time."

"Blaine, are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner?" Burt asked, handing Finn plates from the cabinet.

Blaine smiled. "No, I'm fine. Thank you for the offer though, Mr. Hummel."

"I have a feeling it's going to take years until I get you to call me Burt, huh?"

"Come on, Dad," Kurt moaned, tugging at Blaine's arm to get him out of the entrance of the dining room as Finn, Carole and Burt walked in, each carrying something. "He's not going to stay around for that long, if you carry on making him uneasy."

"Uneasy? At least I'm not one of those fathers that walks around the house carrying a shotgun. You're getting off easy, kid."

"Oh my God, I'm walking Blaine out," Kurt groaned, grabbing Blaine's hand.

Kurt eased the front door shut.

"I've always liked your family," Blaine laughed, leaning against the door.

"As opposed to your other boyfriend's family?" Kurt joked.

"Touch�."

"So, where are you going?" Kurt asked, adjusting Blaine's collar nonchalantly.

"I think Santana wants to go to Spain."

Kurt sighed dramatically. "Take me with you!"

Blaine laughed. "One day. We'll travel on a plane, which is a horrible waste of time, but that's the only way you can travel. But we'll get there."

"You're infuriating. Get out of here!" Kurt said playfully, pushing Blaine away.

"I'll be back before eleven," Blaine said, grabbing at Kurt's hand.

"Make it ten. I'm kind of tired," Kurt said, reaching for the door.

"You just want me to limit my time in Spain!"

"Limit your time in Spain, extend your time with me," Kurt said, grinning. "Bye."

"Bye," Blaine said, disappearing.

Kurt didn't go in though. Even though Blaine was gone, Kurt could still feel him around, like the air was thick with him. He reached forward, his fingers brushing the place where Blaine's cheek would be. He looked forward, feeling like he was actually staring directly into Blaine's eyes.

Kurt felt him before he saw him.

There was a pressure on his lips. It made his body go limp. Something brushed the underside of his outstretched arm, and as Kurt's eyes fluttered shut, he wrapped his arm around something sturdy – Blaine's shoulders. Blaine's hands grasped at Kurt's waist, pulling him close.

Kurt smiled against Blaine's mouth, whispering, "Okay, go!" before gently pushing him down a step.

"Bye," Blaine said dreamily.

"I'll see you again."

Blaine smiled, like really smiled, before saying, "Is that a promise?"

Kurt grinned back, arching an eyebrow. He waved once, opened the door behind him, and then slipped inside.

Teaser for Next Chapter:

Epilogue. I'll give you a cookie if you can guess what it's about!