Who was that? It sounded a lot like Sebastian but the voice was distant, almost muffled in the background. Kurt struggled to open his eyes but his head was too heavy. He felt weak, unable to move any of his limbs, but he was oddly relaxed too. He supposed he had been given some sort of drug - that would at least explain the bruise in his arm if they had used a needle to drug him – and also explain the effective hallucinations that were starting to collate in his mind.

Most of them were hazy, but some of them were very clear - like the glass of alcohol he suddenly seemed to have in his hand. There was no doubt he was dreaming, but something about the scene seemed too familiar, as if he were living a memory or having d�j� vu… Or maybe it was just hearing Blaine’s voice again in the sequence that made everything feel so real.

“I saw Travis today…” Blaine says.

Kurt turns his head and faces him. He and Blaine are sitting at a bar in some sort of dirty pub. Blaine is also nursing a drink; uncharacteristically, the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, his tie is hanging loosely around his neck and the stubble on his face and chin looks like it has been there for well over a few days. More noticeably, the redness of his eyes indicates that he is tired. He has eyes only for the bubbles that seem to surface to the top of his glass; his mind is clearly somewhere else. Kurt has so many questions he wants to ask Blaine in this moment but instead he settles for just one.

“How is he?”

Blaine slowly shrugs as if seemingly resigned from life in general. He takes a sip of his beer. He is still not maintaining eye contact with Kurt; it’s as if the beer is the most interesting thing he has ever known.

“He’s coping, ” Blaine says finally, “Are you? ”

Kurt opens his mouth ready to re-question Blaine but the scene shifts, fading into black and yet again becomes so suddenly real that Kurt can smell it. He’s never known that to happen before, never known it was possible to smell things in a dream. But there is something here that is terribly wrong…

Because it smells like salt and rust and hour old blood.

Worse still, there are red bloodstains everywhere. They splatter the walls and they paint the floors and Kurt’s clothes are soaked in it. There is a familiarity with the house but Kurt can’t quite pinpoint what it is. Something catches his eye and he looks down trembling in dread. He sees a man sprawled out on the floor, lying on his stomach, covered and pooled in blood. In his hand Kurt holds an axe that looks like it’s just had some good use put to it.

Kurt closes his eyes, forces the smell of the blood away and… now he can smell something different. What is that? Cologne?

He is now standing in front of a mirror, busily studying his reflection, trying to make himself look decent. His shirt buttons are mostly undone and his hair is a mess so he consciously runs his hands through it. A stranger leans in behind him and covers Kurt’s chest with his hands.

“Please tell me you’re staying…”

Kurt turns back and sees a shirtless, gorgeous man smiling up at him. He quickly kisses the bridge of his nose.

“I can’t. Blaine is expecting me home tonight…”

Sebastian’s resolve immediately falters. He looks hurt and quite understandably frustrated. But he is still holding onto Kurt.

“I thought the court ruled you as legally separated?”

“You tell me. You were also at the hearing, were you not?”

Sebastian finally lets go, stepping back a few steps and coming to rest seated on their hotel bed. “That’s my point, babe. I can’t understand why you are running back to him when you don’t have to. You’re free, Kurt. You are under no obligation to see him anymore.”

“It’s not running back. He’s still my husband Seb, and out of sheer decency and respect, there are a few things I’d rather sort out with him face to face. It’s the right thing to do and you’re just going to have to be more patient with me about it and less horny.”

Sebastian sighs before finally revealing the truth of his frustrations. “I just… want to spend more time with you.” His vulnerability in that moment causes Kurt to soften. It is a rare moment to see Sebastian like this.

“Bas! You see me every day!”

“Well then let me rephrase. I wanna spend time with you minus all the crazy…”

Kurt turns from the mirror and walks right over to where Sebastian is sitting on the bed. He lays his hand on his chest and brings his head closer to his, kissing his lips in a deep embrace. Their tongues meet somewhere in the middle and Kurt pushes Sebastian back just so allowing himself the freedom to hover over him. He catches his hands and throws them above his head with the kind of force he knows that Sebastian likes every so often.

“Okay,” Kurt finally says, “I can stay another five minutes…”

The scene fades. Once again Kurt finds himself in the dark house covered in blood. He wipes at his sweaty brow creating long finger-printed scarlet marks on his forehead as he does so. He doesn’t feel this time. He doesn’t smell this time. But he can hear…

It sounds like someone… is breathing deep breaths, long and shallow, right over him. It’s almost as if they are floating right above him, invading his personal space. Kurt suddenly jerks awake, sitting bolt upright, very much alert. Why wasn’t it this easy to wake up ten minutes ago? He doesn’t see anyone, though.

What the hell was that? The last of his very real, very dreamlike memory? Or the beginning of a new nightmare invading his subconscious?

And then he remembers where he is again.

He sighs, frustrated with the knowledge that he is still in a cell in Lima State. He sits there for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts, but he isn’t given much time.

He’s so sure he is awake now. After all, it’s not the hardest thing in the world to be unsure of. Except that he can hear the breathing from his dream again. And Kurt’s pretty sure he’s the only one occupying his cell.
Fact. You ARE locked up by yourself. Don’t start doubting the truth. You’re probably just coming out of a much too vivid nightmare and the effects of whatever drug they’ve had you on…

But he can still hear the breathing.

He gets up and paces around the cell; luckily the action works quite well for him and soon his footsteps are the only noise he can here, distracting him from his paranoia.

Until he pauses his movements and can hear another set of footsteps close by.

“Hello?” he says out loud not knowing why he felt the need to say it – it’s not like anyone can hear him. He settles for walking over to the glass door and placing his forehead against the coolness of it, shutting his eyes again. The light at the end of the hallway begins to flicker on and off.

Well at least some things haven’t changed around here, Kurt thinks melodramatically, “Like the fact that they still haven’t gotten round to fixing the power in the west wing!”

As soon as he thinks it, the lights turns off altogether and whatever dim light permeating the halls that was once there is now gone. He shakes his head at the hospital’s inability to get it right and grins thinking wryly to himself.

A different sound, the sound of somebody turning a handle, makes itself present. Kurt is immediately confused. He stares at the door handle slightly shaking at first but then more rapidly and he’s not even touching it.

He flexes his fingers, trying very hard not to shake as he does so, and grips the door handle hoping beyond hope that it budges enough for him to at least open the door.

But that doesn’t happen. What was he expecting to do? Break the law of physics?

He looks up frustrated at his own lapse in judgment. What’s happening to him? Isn’t he supposed to be the expert of everything that is rational? Except Kurt isn’t sure he even knows what normal is anymore. His hand is still holding tight on the door handle. He stares half-heartedly at his reflection in the glass.

He blinks once, twice. Surely, surely, he isn’t seeing what he thinks he’s seeing.

Because instead of what should be his own reflection, he is staring at the image of the young injured boy from McMahon Bridge.