Chapter Eleven: Wake Me Up When September Ends

Somehow, Kurt made it from the balcony to the van to the safehouse.  Several hours must have passed in between, hours during which Kurt was required to move, perhaps even to maneuver himself through potentially dangerous situations.  Did they run to the van?  Were they chased?  What happened to the body?

The body.  Kurt couldn’t get it out of his head—that still, splayed, bloody mess that had suddenly appeared on the ground next to him and couldn’t possibly have ever been a person, let alone Santana.  Let alone his friend.

Blaine must be here somewhere.  Kurt had saved him.  Blaine must have tried to comfort him at some point, and Kurt couldn’t remember if he had let him.

He remembered the gun—the sight of it there on the floor lying so innocently next to the body, how it had called to his panic.  How his eyes had spotted the man [the shooter] and found the gun and took it up and aimed and fired; he remembered the easy give of the cold trigger under his finger.  He was thinking about it all now, what he didn’t think of at all in that moment.

Now Kurt was lying in a large, soft bed, his body curled around a slightly smaller one.  He held on tight to Brittany, but she wouldn’t stop crying.

Kurt thought she might go on crying forever.

*******

His oatmeal was cold.  It probably hadn’t been when he’d first gotten it.

There were so many people at the safehouse—enough that it felt crowded, claustrophobic, even though it had been designed to house multiple families.  But today, Kurt felt as if he were alone.  The atmosphere was quiet, muted, as if the building itself sensed that it was a time for mourning and couldn’t figure out quite what to do.

Kurt didn’t know what to do.  He sat in the kitchen by himself, Blaine seated across from him.  Blaine’s hand lay splayed on the table, mere millimeters from Kurt’s own clenched fist.  But he didn’t touch, and Kurt didn’t acknowledge his presence.

Blaine was talking.  Kurt caught words here and there—shut me out, and please, Kurt, and don’t do this to us—but they were distant, as far away as a dream in the harsh light of day.

Absentmindedly, he picked up his spoon and tried to shove too much tacky mush into his mouth at once.

Open, close, chew, swallow… these things made up his life.

*******

It may have been one day now or several.

Kurt was shivering.  The worn hooded sweatshirt he had on was a poor barrier against the winter wind, and Kurt wasn’t sure how it had even ended up on his body.  It smelled familiar, comforting, but Kurt knew somehow that it wasn’t his own.  Balancing on the top step of the back porch, he hugged his knees tighter to his chest.

“Hey dude,” the words were jarring, and for the first time since that day, Kurt’s head turned and he looked.  “Ummm… sorry if I’m bothering you, but Blaine begged me to try to get you to talk, so…”

Finn shrugged, looking smaller than Kurt ever recalled seeing him.  He smiled weakly when Kurt met his eyes, chuckled a little.  “Yeah… I’m not sure why he thought I could help, either.  But this stuff is pretty sad.  He’s upset.  He needs you and… you need him.”  Finn paused and shifted from one foot to the next, the puffy winter coat he was wearing crinkling awkwardly with his movement.  “So… can I sit down?”

Kurt blinked, then looked away.  Finn sat.

“I, ummm, heard that you got the guy that shot Santana.  That’s cool,” Finn began again.

Shocked at his audacity, Kurt turned to consider his brother, this time with a bit more recognition.  “What?” he said sharply after a long moment of silence, his tone betraying the blankness of his face.

“Yeah, I didn’t really expect that, you know, what with your whole ‘no gun’ thing and all, but I think…” his words trailed off as he seemed to register the growing anger on Kurt’s face.  “Whoops,” he added more softly.

“What do you want, Finn?” Kurt demanded through clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry, okay?  I told Blaine I’d be bad at this talking thing…”

Kurt heaved a great sigh and turned away again, his face falling into folded arms.

“Wait, don’t… don’t close off again, okay?  It’s really starting to freak me out, and Blaine too, and pretty much everyone.  None of us really know what to do or say to each other right now, but what you’re doing isn’t cool.  It’s not going to help you, Kurt.  Blaine needs you.  We all need you,” Finn’s voice was airy from the cold, inching further towards desperate.

“I think I’ve done enough,” Kurt retorted, his words harsh but muffled.

“Yeah?  Well then maybe you should let someone do something for you.”

Finn waited there beside him for several long moments, and still Kurt didn’t move, didn’t speak. 

But he was awake now, and it hurt.

Finally, Finn stood.  “Just talk to Blaine, dude, please.  For him, for yourself… for Santana.  She lost her life and her soulmate.  Are you really going to let your relationship rot away?”

Kurt didn’t look up, but he knew the moment that Finn was gone as surely as he knew that somehow, he had to find the strength to move forward.

*******

When he finally gathered the courage to seek Blaine out, Kurt found him sitting alone in the room they shared with Finn and Mike.  He hadn’t been back here since their return to the safehouse, instead sharing hazy days and nights with Brittany, the only company he could bear to keep.

For a moment he stood quietly in the doorway, observing his soulmate in a rare moment of inactivity.  Blaine looked sad, worn… defeated.

It took Kurt a couple of tries to say his name, the word sticking in his throat, but finally it came out, weak and almost prayerful—“Blaine.”

Blaine’s dark head shot up immediately, shocked, red-rimmed eyes meeting his own.  “Kurt,” he breathed, and then he was on his feet, bounding across the room and pulling Kurt into his arms.  Kurt clung to him, almost hyperventilating in his attempt to inhale Blaine’s scent until he was back with Kurt and in him and through him, right where he belonged.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt murmured into Blaine’s neck when he could speak again.

Blaine only squeezed him tighter in response, eventually pulling back to cup Kurt’s face and study him intently.  “It’s okay,” he told Kurt soothingly.  Then, “are you okay?”

His gaze was so intense, so concentrated, that Kurt couldn’t help but close the short distance between them to kiss him.  “I am now,” he whispered against Blaine’s lips.

“I don’t believe you,” the other man protested, but he was smiling, slight and sweet and perfect.  “We need to talk, Kurt.”

Kurt bit his bottom lip.  Blaine was right, of course, but just now Kurt’s body was positively humming with energy—it felt as if he was waking up after a long, deep sleep, and in a way Kurt supposed that he was.  The last thing he wanted to do was return to the darker thoughts that had been plaguing him for the past few days.

“Okay,” he said at last, then launched forward to take Blaine’s mouth once more, “but later.”

Blaine didn’t argue this time, instead kissing back just as greedily.  With a little trouble, Kurt walked them towards the bed, trying and failing to maneuver them onto the lower bunk without injury.  Blaine hardly seemed to notice when he hit his head, but he did “oomph” when Kurt landed on top of him, and Kurt scrambled to shift his weight around to straddle the other man instead.  Blaine looked so beautiful sprawled out beneath him that Kurt stopped and stared, sucking in a breath.

“Blaine,” he nearly whined, swallowing thickly and looking up to catch his soulmate’s eyes.  “I want… can I…?”

“Anything, Kurt,” Blaine conceded quietly, rubbing small circles into his lower back.  “Just be here, please.”

It broke Kurt’s heart a little to hear Blaine’s voice crack on his last words, and he nodded but didn’t speak, bending down to kiss him again.  One hand traced the sharp line of Blaine’s shoulder, the other bearing his weight, and Kurt slowly followed the planes of Blaine’s chest down to his stomach then tugged at his t-shirt, a clear indication that he wanted it off.  Blaine nudged him aside to do so, and Kurt took the opportunity to pull his own shirt and hoody up and over his head. 

Kurt pressed a hand against Blaine’s warm skin, right over his heart.  This time he could feel the heat radiating from his own eyes when they met Blaine’s.  “I really want you,” Kurt voiced with more confidence than he felt.  “This is not how I pictured this happening, but…”

“I don’t care,” Blaine interrupted him, gripping too-tight around Kurt’s biceps.  “Source, Kurt, I just want to feel you with me…”

Kurt leaned over to press their foreheads together, resting there for a moment and feeling their chests rise and fall in sync.  “Okay,” he finally said, “is our stuff here?”

“Under the bed,” Blaine replied, and Kurt crawled over to search for it.  “I can’t believe you went three days without your moisturizer routine, Kurt.  That’s got to be a first.”

Kurt looked back over at him and grimaced.  “That’s how long, huh?”

Blaine nodded, and Kurt’s face fell further.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.  I haven’t been myself, and there’s still… a lot, but,” he paused, rummaging around in the backpack he’d found and pulling out a bottle of lube.  Kurt tossed it onto the bed before climbing back up and crowding against Blaine’s side.  “I won’t do that again,” he continued, pressing a kiss to Blaine’s collarbone.  “I promise.”

Blaine’s arms closed tight around Kurt and when he sighed, Kurt could feel his whole body heaving with it.  “Please don’t,” he pleaded softly, prompting Kurt to lift his head and look at him.  “Make it up to me?”

Kurt kissed him and nodded, feeling the full weight of his guilt over abandoning Blaine settle within him for the first time.  It felt terrible, but at least this was a guilt he could try to assuage.  Nuzzling his nose against Blaine’s, Kurt set about raining gentle kisses on every inch of his face, each touch of his lips an apology.  Finally, he came to Blaine’s ear.

“I’m going to make love to you,” he whispered, speaking as much to himself as to the man beneath him.

This time it was Blaine who turned to take his lips, and Kurt allowed himself to get lost in the feel and taste of his soulmate’s mouth, their hips rocking slowly together until Kurt felt Blaine’s hands at his waist, working open his pants, and moved to return the favor.

The press of naked skin against Kurt’s own was a blessed jolt to his system, and he soon became frantic with it, their cocks rubbing fast and dry until Blaine’s hands closed gently around his hips to steady them.  Kurt looked down at him, taking in Blaine’s soft smile and the love that lit his eyes, and he took a deep breath, willing his heartbeat to slow.

Blaine tugged at him and Kurt allowed his upper body drop a little—just enough to feel the gentle press of Blaine’s chest against his own—and his forehead fell to rest against the pillow.

Kurt was calm enough to giggle when Blaine began playfully nosing at his neck… until Blaine said the last thing he expected.

“Please tell me you’ve at least bathed in the last few days.”

He would have been insulted, but he caught the amused smirk on Blaine’s face and knew that this was his attempt at grounding Kurt, calming him back into focus. 

If only it was the simple thing that Blaine intended.

He shifted down to rest against his soulmate’s shoulder, taking a few moments to gather his thoughts and attempt to organize the weight of them into a coherent sentence.  “Yes, of course, I… I felt so dirty after that day and… well, I had trouble feeling clean again.”

“Kurt…”

Blaine’s hand was on his face, lifting and turning it gently, but it wasn’t until Kurt felt Blaine’s thumb swipe across his cheek that he realized he was crying.  “Kurt, I…” Blaine began again, but Kurt shook his head, refusing to meet Blaine’s eyes.

“Don’t,” he said, and kissed him.  “Not now, right?”

“But Kurt…”

“Please, Blaine,” Kurt forced himself to find and hold Blaine’s gaze, desperate for understanding though the intensity was now nearly too much to bear.

Finally, Blaine nodded.

“Turn over?” Kurt requested.  “Please?”

Blaine’s hand crept up and wove through Kurt’s hair, tugging his head down for one last long, soulful kiss before quietly doing as Kurt asked.

A mirror of his earlier movements, Kurt allowed himself time to take in the golden brown skin of Blaine’s back, the occasional shift of muscle beneath it.  He trailed his hands up and down its expanse, marveling at how the smoothness contrasted with the slight coarseness of Blaine’s chest.

The Source truly knew what it was doing, Kurt thought.  He couldn’t have imagined a man more beautiful, more heartbreakingly perfect for him if he tried.

This time, Kurt leaned over and followed the path of his hands with his mouth, beginning at Blaine’s neck.  Slowly, he worked over Blaine’s flesh with lips and tongue, finishing with a careful line down his spine and a dip of his tongue teasingly into Blaine’s crack.  The taste and softness there intrigued him, as did Blaine’s nearly inaudible keen, but Kurt would leave that for later exploration.

Instead, he allowed his fingers to pick up where his mouth left off, and Blaine spread his legs without prompting in encouragement.

They’d had several weeks of sharing a bed now, and still this remained uncharted territory for no particular reason.  Kurt wondered for the first time if Blaine liked to be touched here, if he had ever touched himself.  It occurred to him suddenly that he could ask, and so he did.

“I’ve tried but… it’s awkward, doing it to yourself.  I think I’ll like it under the right… mmmph…” Blaine broke off as Kurt slid a single lubed finger inside with little warning and wiggled against the press of it.  “That’s… a little uncomfortable but… good, yes…”

Kurt smiled even though Blaine couldn’t see and kissed his shoulder, working his finger in and out and at different angles, paying close attention to the sounds Blaine was making.  They were distinctive from those he made when topping and some were almost comical, but Kurt found them oddly endearing.  Finally, Blaine moaned particularly loudly and mumbled “there,” and then “more Kurt, Source,” and Kurt obliged, happy to lose himself in the simple mechanisms of their bodies, their shared connection and pleasure.

At three fingers Blaine was still tight enough that Kurt was concerned, but when he awkwardly tried for a fourth, Blaine interrupted.

“Just do it, Kurt,” he demanded, reaching behind himself to halt Kurt’s hand, though he huffed in displeasure when Kurt withdrew.  Kurt tugged him onto his side until he could see his face, and Blaine looked so utterly gone in a way he hadn’t quite been before that Kurt couldn’t help but kiss him, dirty and deep and loving.

“How do you want to do this?” he asked hoarsely when he pulled away, humping a little against Blaine’s hip and ass because he couldn’t stop himself, was hardly even aware.

Blaine hummed in response and shoved Kurt down a little until their hips aligned and Kurt’s cock settled into his crack.  Kurt inhaled sharply.

“Yeah, okay, I wouldn’t think of that…” he pulled away reluctantly to lube up before curling around Blaine’s back, fumbling for a moment to align himself correctly then weaving his arms around Blaine and pulling him impossibly closer and breathing into the back of his neck—“ready?”

Kurt lifted his head to watch Blaine’s eyes squeeze shut and pressed a kiss to the edge of his jaw when Blaine nodded, squeezing tight where their hands were clutched together and resting against Blaine’s chest.

He knew he should go slow—Blaine had been so tight around Kurt’s fingers—but it was easier and so much better than he ever could have expected, and Kurt just sank and sank, drowning in Blaine’s heat and barely audible whimpers until there was nowhere to go anymore.

And then suddenly, clarity.  Three days lost within himself because he couldn’t live with himself, stumbling and hiding and scrambling to find a way out of the twisted mess of decisions he didn’t understand how he could have made, and it was this easy.  All Kurt had needed to do was to reach outside of himself and come home.

“Blaine,” he said simply, desperately—a call into darkness and a prayer of thanksgiving.

Blaine seemed to understand, though.  He flattened Kurt’s hand against his skin and guided it once again to press over his heart, lingering there before moving it down to skim over his cock, arching up into Kurt’s touch in offering.  Kurt curled his fingers gladly over the hot, solid flesh as Blaine spoke—“I’m right here.”

Kurt needed no further bidding to move, his pace steady and quick and sure but not rough, not this time.  His hand stroked Blaine’s cock in tandem with each thrust, and he mouthed eagerly at Blaine’s neck and shoulder as he felt the sweat begin to slick between their bodies.

Blaine was crying out beautifully, shifting and writhing against him, but Kurt remained silent.  It didn’t take long, but neither man made any move to slow things down.  When his climax hit Kurt surrendered to it fully, biting into Blaine’s shoulder and losing himself in the now-familiar sensation of detachment—a moment apart from the world, his only tether of reality Blaine, Blaine, Blaine.  He barely felt it when Blaine’s come coated his fingers, but somehow Kurt was aware that his soulmate was there with him.

They stayed perfectly still as they came down, breathing together.  Kurt’s focus turned to the way that Blaine’s body fit so rightly with his own, the way his ass still clenched weakly around Kurt’s softening cock, the way he could feel the pulse pounding, then beating, then thrumming in Blaine’s neck.  Simple things.  Wonderful things.

When reality came knocking again at his door, Kurt squeezed his eyes shut against it and his whole body tensed.

He felt Blaine shift out of his arms and then settle back in, a hand dragging down his face.

“Kurt,” Blaine said, quiet and sad.

Kurt clutched him tighter and let Blaine kiss him and run his fingers over and over again through his hair, and he tried hard not to think.

*******

Kurt stirred at the sound of a door opening and closing, a gasp and muffled voices sounding from the hallway that his fuzzy mind eventually placed as Finn and Mike.  He blinked his eyes open and looked down.

Blaine was sprawled on his stomach, still fast asleep with his face turned towards Kurt and one hand cupped around Kurt’s torso, while Kurt was pressed against his side with his arm and leg flung over Blaine’s back and buttocks, respectively.  They were both stark naked.  Finn and Mike had gotten quite the eyeful.

In a misplaced moment of empathy Kurt tried to imagine how agonizing it would be to walk in on his stepbrother similarly indisposed and nearly swore aloud as he frantically tried to push the image from his mind.  Then his brain unhelpfully supplied that this scenario would likely involve boobs or, more specifically, Rachel’s boobs, and he really did curse.

Blaine startled awake, his hand tightening almost painfully around Kurt’s ribcage.

“Hey,” Kurt said softly when he’d opened his eyes.

Blaine smiled.  “Hey.”

Silence lingered too long as they stared at each other in a way that should have been awkward but wasn’t somehow, and then they were kissing softly.  Kurt sighed when they pulled away and wiggled further down the bed to nestle his head in the crook of Blaine’s shoulder, Blaine’s arm coming around him with the ease of familiarity.

“I’m not ready to talk,” he whispered.  “I know we have to, but—what is there to say?”

Blaine didn’t answer right away, but Kurt knew it was because he was thinking.  “I guess what I need to know is… why?”

“That’s the hardest question…”

“I know.”

“I… that day,” Kurt began slowly, “it wasn’t pre-meditated.  Everything was fine and suddenly there was a body on the floor and bullets flying everywhere and I saw one almost hit you, and I happened to somehow look in just the right place and you were looking in the wrong one and… there was the gun, and I didn’t think I just grabbed it and…” his rambling cut off with a choked sob, and Blaine squeezed him tighter.  “Santana’s dead,” Kurt said weakly.

“I know, baby,” Blaine told him and kissed his forehead.  “It’s sad and horrible, but… that’s not why, Kurt.”

And then Kurt lost it, his body beginning to shake and his breath speeding and hitching, though oddly no tears fell from his eyes.  He buried his face into Blaine’s skin and tried to stop it, Blaine holding him and kissing him and shushing him like a child.

“I can’t believe I did it,” he confessed when he was able to push the words out.  “I killed someone, Blaine, I…”

To Kurt’s surprise, Blaine didn’t protest, didn’t try to plead Kurt’s innocence.  Instead he smoothed the hair back from Kurt’s face and echoed his earlier words—“I know.”

“And after all that… I know what I put you through and it’s like I threw it all out the window without a second thought, and what does that make me?  Who am I, Blaine?”  For the first time he looked up, daring to meet Blaine’s eyes because he felt achingly empty and desperate, so desperate for an answer.

“It makes you human,” Blaine told him, his gaze loving and even and sincere.  “You’re mine, Kurt.  You’re you.”

Kurt shook his head, but when Blaine pulled him in for a kiss he allowed it, clinging to the comfort and warmth and assurance of his soulmate’s mouth.  When the kiss broke, he dropped back into Blaine’s arms.

“I wish this was easy,” he said.  “I wish I didn’t care.  That man was a horrible person.   I wish I didn’t care.”

It was Blaine’s turn to shake his head, and Kurt shifted again to look up at him when he sighed.  “If you didn’t care, Kurt, then you wouldn’t be you.  It’s the caring that matters.”

They fell silent once more, and Kurt felt himself growing drowsy again.  He had the foresight to reach down for the blankets and cover them.  “I think Finn and Mike saw us naked…” he mumbled just as he drifted off.

Kurt felt Blaine laugh but failed to hear his reply.

*******

When they woke again Mike was standing across the room dressed sharply, straightening his tie in the mirror.  Kurt felt himself flush when Mike glanced over at them, his smile bittersweet.  “Good morning,” he offered.  “I’m just about finished here; I told Finn I’d take him his clothes—he didn’t want to brave the room.”

Kurt muttered an apology, but Blaine spoke over him.  “It’s the memorial service this morning,” he explained.  “We wanted to wait and see if Santana’s parents… well, we got word yesterday that they want nothing to do with it.”

Mike was shuffling out of the room, and Kurt managed a forced smile in his direction before turning his attention to Blaine.  “I… hadn’t thought of that.”

Blaine shrugged.  “Do you feel up to it?  Everyone will understand if you don’t go.”

“I don’t,” Kurt replied honestly.  “But I need to be there.”

Blaine smiled and took his hand.  “I’ll be right there with you.”

“I know,” Kurt told him, squeezing the fingers in his.

*******

The service was held in the back yard, short and solemn to match the bitter weather.  Santana wouldn’t have wanted it that way, Kurt knew, but it didn’t seem like anyone in the house could manage anything else.  Brittany cried, and when she found her way into his arms, soaking his expensive silk dress shirt, Kurt couldn’t help but cry too.  The gloom around him was creeping under his skin, and for the first time he could feel the grief of his loss at full force, breaking free from the numb shock and guilt he’d been wallowing in for days.  The only other emotion he managed was relief—Henry was there in attendance, looking a little pale and with one shoulder heavily bandaged, his arm in a sling.  But he was alive.

He was surprised to note the sheer number of people in attendance.  Scanning across the sea of faces, Kurt counted very few as missing.  Those of the resistance that had refused to align with Santana had apparently stuck around anyway and had enough respect to attend.

Blaine, as promised, remained at his side throughout.  When it was over Kurt turned to him, feeling a little lost and hopeless, and finally asked the question that had most been plaguing him.

“What happens now?”

Before Blaine could respond, Wes approached, unaware of the moment he was interrupting.  “There’s a meeting tomorrow,” he told them.  “I know it seems too soon, but we need to regroup and figure out our next step.  I never met her, but from what I hear Santana wouldn’t want us to stop fighting.”

Blaine nodded, but Kurt stood frozen, unable to fully process the words.  “We’ll be there,” Blaine assured him, and Kurt tried to smile.  When Wes had gone, Blaine turned Kurt to face him.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Kurt searched feebly for an honest answer.  “I want to be,” he finally decided.

“We don’t have to go tomorrow.  I can tell Wes that it’s too soon, he’ll understand…”

“No,” Kurt interrupted.  “I want to go.  Wes is right; it’s what she would do.”

Blaine’s hand closed on his arm.  “That doesn’t mean that it’s right for you, right for us.”

Kurt noticed Finn out of the corner of his eye, currently caught in a conversation with Mercedes but watching them with clear intent.  His breath hitched.  “Can we go back to our room, Blaine?  Please?”

“Of course,” Blaine agreed easily, his worried eyes never leaving Kurt’s.

They ducked out of the gathering quietly, Kurt avoiding eye contact but noticing that Blaine exchanged rather pointed glances with a few of their curious friends.  When they got to their room they undressed without speaking.  Blaine dug some pajamas out of their bag, and once clothed again they cuddled together on the bed.

“Is it terrible that this is the only thing I really want to do?” Kurt finally asked.

“No, Kurt.  However you need to be right now is fine.  I’m certainly not going to protest.”

Kurt huffed.  “It’s just… I feel so useless.  Why can’t I get over this?  There’s so much to do, so much need to move forward, and I just… can’t.”

It took Blaine a moment to answer, and perhaps Kurt should expect by now that Blaine’s responses would almost always surprise him.

“Do you ever remember that you didn’t choose this?” he asked.

Kurt was taken aback.  “Of course I did.  What are you talking about?”

Blaine shook his head.  “No, Kurt.  You came here to find me, and you have.  The rest of it you just sort of… fell into.  You’re under no obligation to help these people.”

“But I believe in this cause!” Kurt protested, shifting to look at his soulmate.  “It’s important, important to us and for us.  Santana just died for it!  You had to leave the country because of the prejudice here, and I had to hide… we might never have found each other, Blaine!”  He winced as he spoke the words.

“I know all of that,” Blaine said calmly.  “None of it changes the fact that this is not what you signed up for.”

“You did,” Kurt argued stubbornly, but his rebellious mind was already wandering, picturing the room they would share at his dad and Carole’s house, the little home they could eventually build together, walking down a crowded street hand in hand, performing.

“I did,” Blaine agreed, “and I still believe in the necessity of helping the resistance.  But I have you now; I have more of a reason to live.  I’ve already given a lot, and so have you.  There are safer ways to help.”

“We can’t just abandon…”

“Kurt,” Blaine said, his voice tender, his hand on Kurt’s face.  “Let it go.  It’s okay to want something more for ourselves.  We’re allowed to rest, and I think that’s what you need.”

Kurt felt his eyes filling with tears and frantically tried to blink them away.  “I want it,” he confessed.  “I know it’s not right, we should stay and help, but…”

“Shhh.  We’ll have it, Kurt.  It’s okay.”

Kurt nodded and kissed him, finally allowing some of the burden he’d been carrying for so long to slip away.

“I’m exhausted,” he admitted when they parted.  “I know that doesn’t make any sense; it’s the middle of the day.”

Blaine smiled at him warmly.  “Nap, then.  There’s nothing to stop you.”

Kurt smiled back, feeling the first tendrils of happiness well up within him.  There was still a lot to discuss, and the others to contend with—whatever choice they’d made, Kurt would never abandon the resistance completely.  They would find a way to be useful.

He curled around his soulmate in the dim room and tried to relax, allowing his mind to wander through an endless litany of troubles and hopes and possibilities.

“Blaine,” Kurt’s voice was soft, tentative.  “Blaine, when I killed that man… it was the right thing to do.”

“It was,” Blaine conceded.

“I still hate it.”

Blaine pulled him closer, and Kurt allowed himself—and his conscience—to rest.

*******

The meeting the next evening was a long and futile one.  The resistance was scrambling to regroup and come up with another political candidate to put forward, but just as before Santana, none of the few politicians with their sympathies was powerful enough, and it was unlikely any would be willing to step up to the plate given the confirmed danger such a position posed.  Retreating to The Olde World was not an option now that their existence had been so garishly revealed to the public.  They needed to stay, despite the risk, seek out what support must be out there, and carefully draw more citizens into their ranks.  Only then would they be powerful enough to make any real waves in the government.

It was a long road ahead, but the journey had begun.

When the gathering had concluded, Blaine and Kurt pulled Wes aside.

“Wes,” Blaine addressed his old friend, hand firmly ensconced in Kurt’s.  “Kurt and I have decided that it’s best for us to return to The Olde World for the time being.”

Wes’s eyes met Blaine’s, then Kurt’s in turn.  Kurt looked away.  “I see,” he said evenly.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt told him softly.  “We just… need some time.  It’s been a lot.  We still want to help!”

Wes nodded politely and excused himself, and Kurt felt tears of guilt threatening.  Blaine’s hand tightened in his.

They made their way around the room.

Mike was impossible to read.  “Give Tina my love,” he told them.  “I imagine I’ll be here for a while, and it won’t be easy for her.”

They assured him that they would, and Mike and Blaine hugged—a rare display of affection between the two friends.  “Take care of him, Kurt,” Mike added, and Kurt smiled gratefully and promised that he would.

Mercedes was the most sympathetic.  “Take all the time you need, Boo,” she cautioned him.  “And give that brother of mine a shout-out; it’s been far too long since I’ve seen him.”

This time, it was Blaine who was ordered to look out for Kurt, Mercedes personal style a bit more threatening—“you better watch out for my boy or believe you me, I’ll find a way to bring the full wrath of the Source down on your white-boy ass!”  Her words were softened by a hug that took Blaine completely by surprise, and Kurt actually laughed as Blaine’s eyes widened and he patted Mercedes’ back awkwardly.

David was honest but kind.  “I don’t understand how you can do this, Blaine—it’s not like you, not like the boy I grew up with.  But I trust that you know where your priorities lie.”  He shot Kurt a glance, not unkind, and slapped Blaine on the back.  “Take care of yourselves, alright?  Maybe come back someday when you’re feeling up to it.”

Blaine smiled and thanked him, but Kurt could tell that the words had stung.

Finn took the news with his typical ease.  “Good for you, bro; you could use some down time with everything that’s happened.  Plus, it’s not really safe here for you guys.  Ummm… do you think you could tell Rachel I’m needed here for a while, but I’ll try to be home in a few months?  And be convincing, alright?  I’d like to keep my balls intact when I get back… oh, and give my mom a hug for me…”

Kurt flung his arms around his brother, halting his ramblings.  “Thank you, Finn.  I’m going to miss you.”

“Yeah, me too, dude,” Finn smiled and hugged him back, offering his fist for Blaine to bump over Kurt’s shoulder.

To Kurt’s surprise, Brittany had no interest in going with them.  “My grandmother won’t be happy, and Sam will worry, but… I can’t explain it, but somehow I feel drawn here?  Maybe it’s because it’s where San—where she died.  I just know I have to stay.”  Brittany’s face was red and puffy, but to Kurt she still looked beautiful.

“Please be safe,” he begged her, worried for his tender-hearted friend.  “Stay with the others?”

Brittany nodded frantically, clinging to his arm.  “The trees will take care of me,” she told him confidently.

Kurt really hoped that she was right.

Hearts heavy and eager for rest, Kurt and Blaine prepared to leave The New World behind once more.

*******

A few days later, the soulmates approached the barrier for the second time, again hand in hand.

This time they made it home.