Epilogue: A New Day Has Come

*~*10 years later*~*

The room was solemn when Blaine stepped through the doorway, a few scattered whispers cutting off abruptly and hands hastily hiding scraps of paper under desks.  Blaine raised his eyebrow in amusement as he surveyed the sea of faces anxiously awaiting his next move.  A pretty girl with dark, curly hair and bright blue eyes giggled at his expression, the sound cutting off when she slapped her hand to her mouth almost immediately.

“Good morning, class.  I know you’ve all been eager to begin our section on the history of our government’s structure”—he paused, smiling at the chorus of groans—“but I thought in light of the holiday on Monday, we might take a day to discuss the history, and ultimately the downfall, of rehabilitation instead.”

As Blaine had anticipated, his students instantly came to life, hands waving frantically all about.

“My dad says that…”

“I visited one of the camps last summer!”

“Arabella told me you know the president personally, Mr. Anderson…”

“Woah, calm down!” Blaine said, waving his hands in a dismissive motion.  It didn’t work.  “Class!” he shouted, clapping loudly.

The noise tapered off.

Blaine massaged his temples.  “Now then, let’s start at the beginning, shall we?”  His eyes quickly swept over the room again, pleased to find only attentive silence, though with a good amount of fidgeting.  He couldn’t expect much more from a room full of fifth graders.

“Does anyone know how rehabilitation got started?”

A few hands went up, and Blaine pointed to a sandy-haired boy in the back row who rarely spoke.  “Winston, what say you?”

“It was to get more babies?” Winston suggested tentatively.

Blaine offered him a warm smile.  “That’s right, very good.  The whole world experienced a plague; do you guys know what that is?”

A few nods, but most of the students shook their heads.

“A plague is when a whole bunch of people get sick and die.  The population can drop a lot, which is what happened then.  Because only straight couples have babies, somebody invented rehabilitation so that there would be more straight people and thus, more babies.”

A tiny red-headed girl raised her hand.  “But Mr. Anderson, my moms are gay and they have me and my brother…”

“That’s right,” Blaine nodded at her.  “Do you know how they had you?”

“I was adopted.”

“Adoption is a wonderful way for anybody to raise a child, but only straight couples can make a child themselves.  Do you understand?”

The class nodded.

“Good, moving on.  So after rehabilitation was put into practice, the population eventually reached a healthy level once again.  But by that time a lot of people had gotten used to the way things were, and they didn’t like the idea of letting boys be with boys and girls be with girls.  So rehabilitation stayed, even though it was hurting people more than it was helping them.”

“But why?” the class’s resident smart-aleck demanded, his dark eyes locked with Blaine’s own in challenge.  “Why do people care so much who someone’s mated to if it doesn’t affect them personally?”

Blaine stared back, not bothering to lecture him about raising his hand.  “That’s a very good question, Sam.  I’ll admit that I still struggle with that one myself.  People can be cruel, and selfish, and ignorant,” he looked away, feeling the muscles in his face tense and then relax again, “but they can also be compassionate, and brave, and selfless.  That’s what we’re celebrating on Monday.”

“So how did we get there?” the dark-haired girl called out impatiently, and Blaine shot her a warning look.

“I was getting to that, Arabella.  Raise your hand please,” Blaine chastised, watching her nose wrinkle as she frowned and huffed at his use of her full name.  He turned back to the rest of the class.  “Well, does anyone know the answer?”

To Blaine’s delight every hand in the room shot up save for Ari’s.  She was still pouting.  “Hmm, how about,” he turned so that his back was to the class, pointing a finger and spinning around with his eyes closed.  Stopping abruptly, he opened them.  “Melody,” he gestured to a pretty blonde.

“It started with the resistance,” the girl answered promptly, beaming as she eyed each of her classmates and then turned to consider Blaine himself as she continued.  “Twelve years ago a resistance group formed in The Olde World.  They began to grow in number and popularity in The New World after the infamous death of Head of Security Santana Lopez, who had announced her loyalties to their cause as part of her first campaign speech for president.  Two years ago a law was finally passed in The New World making the practice of rehabilitation or discrimination based on soulmates illegal, and last year President Mercedes Jones was elected, a leader of the resistance.  I’m going to be president just like her someday!” Melody concluded excitedly.

“Thank you, Melody; I’m sure you will,” he told her kindly before once again addressing the class at large.  “Melody is correct!  That was an excellent summary.  However, there’s a lot more that happened behind the scenes that many people don’t know about.  Do any of you have anything to add or any questions?”

A few hands went up again, including Ari’s.  Blaine pretended not to see it, instead nodding to the chubby boy in the next seat over.  “Yes, Craig.”

“How does rehabilitation work?  Does it work?  I’ve asked my parents, but they won’t talk about it.”

Blaine frowned, shifting his weight from one foot to the next.  “That’s a good question, Craig, but I’m afraid I’m not going to give you a good answer.  The reason that your parents, and many others, refuse to talk about rehabilitation is because it was a very bad, very cruel process.  It did work well for many, yes, but it was… painful, and damaging.  I’m sorry, but if you’d like more details than that, you’ll have to try to get it out of them.”

Craig looked disappointed but didn’t argue.  Blaine turned to another girl a few rows back who had been one of the first to try to speak.

“My parents took me to tour one of the rehabilitation camps last summer!” she said in a rush.  “It was dark and horrible.  It looked like a jail.  They showed us some of the introductory videos they used to show to the gay people, and we got to see the cells and everything, though they wouldn’t allow us to go into the torture chambers…”

Gasps sounded around the room, and Blaine acted quickly.  “That’s enough, Stacy.  I thought they didn’t allow children under the age of sixteen to go on those tours?”

“Only with parental supervision, Mr. Anderson.  I’m sorry if I said something wrong.” 

Blaine crossed his arms over his chest and sighed.  She didn’t look sorry at all.  He made a mental note to discuss her experience with her parents on the next parent/teacher night, as well as her lack of tact.

“It’s fine, Stacy—just a bit too graphic to share in class.”

“Sorry,” she said again, but Blaine was already moving on to the next hand. 

“Justin?”

“My dad says that rehabilitation was a hoax.  He said that people were blowing it out of proportion, and that most of the stories aren’t real.”

Blaine closed his eyes, pressing a hand again to his temple and taking a moment to breathe.  This might have been a mistake.  Scratch that, it had definitely been a mistake.  “I won’t go against your father, Justin, but I personally have known several people that have been through rehabilitation, and I trust that the experience was as horrifying as they claim.  Is there anybody else?”    

He looked around the room once, twice, three times, but still only one hand remained.  Blaine sighed again.

“Arabella,” he quietly acknowledged his niece, the sly smile on her face assuring him that he was right to be anxious about whatever she was going to say.

“I think my peers might be interested in hearing the story of the role you played in the resistance, Mr. Anderson,” the small girl told him, her bright eyes sparkling with an all-too-familiar smugness.  “Or maybe you can tell them about Uncle Kurt taking out that sniper.”

Gasps were heard around the room, accompanied by the sound of several chairs scraping and shifting as twenty-five children wriggled and sat up straighter in their seats.  Blaine felt every eye watching him with a level of attention and interest he could usually only muster with food or a movie, but he didn’t see them; he was much too busy plotting murder.

Ari, of course, was far too young to die.

Her father, on the other hand….

*******

When Blaine got home he found Kurt standing at one of his favorite places—the stove.  “Hey honey, how was work?” his soulmate greeted him cheerfully, then poked a spoon towards Blaine’s mouth without waiting for an answer.  “Taste, but be careful; it’s hot.”

Blaine licked tentatively at the unknown liquid after blowing on it, then a little more.  Kurt was always trying out interesting variations on Alfredo sauce.

“Good as usual,” he declared, happily leaning in for a kiss.  “So work was… difficult.”

Kurt’s brow lifted at this.  “Oh?”

Blaine sighed.  “I thought I’d give the kids and me a break from the usual historical tedium and discuss the history of rehabilitation in light of the holiday… but I didn’t plan for Ari.”

Kurt smiled knowingly.  “What did she do?”

“She was angry at me, as usual, for not giving her special treatment, so she decided it was appropriate to ask me to share stories of our time in the resistance.”

The taller man’s face fell.  “She didn’t.”

Blaine nodded.  “She did.”

“Well, she is Cooper’s daughter,” Kurt pointed out unnecessarily, turning back to stir the sauce while Blaine grabbed a bowl of grapes out of the fridge and popped a few in his mouth.  “How did you handle it?”

“I told her that it wasn’t appropriate,” Blaine answered.  “Fortunately, the class was almost over by that point, but I’m going to have to speak with her parents about this.”

Kurt looked up at him, sympathy and understanding written all over his face.  “Would you like me to do it?” he offered.

Blaine shook his head.  “No, thank you.  This is technically teacher-parent territory, and I need to do my job.  I could, however, get away with only talking to Molli…”

“You could.”

“She’ll be more reasonable about it anyway,” Blaine continued.

“Blaine, you don’t have to defend yourself with me.  I get it, remember?”

Blaine smiled, dropping the grapes onto the counter in favor of wrapping his arms around his soulmate’s waist, pressing in close against his back and peppering Kurt’s neck with tiny kisses that the other man instinctively arched into.  “That you do,” he murmured against Kurt’s skin.  “Thank you.”

Kurt hmmed in response, and Blaine returned to his grapes.  “Is Jackson home yet?”

“Yep, about fifteen minutes before you.  He’s out back tossing a ball around with Stephen and Patti.”

Blaine nodded.  It wasn’t unusual for his niece and nephew to be over at their house due to their parents’ crazy schedules.  “How long are they staying?”

“Finn’s coming over after work; I think the three of them will stay for dinner.  Rachel’s got a full day booked on set.”

“I think I’ll get changed and join them, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Kurt dismissed him with a wave of the spoon, “go, leave the cook in peace.”

“Snob,” Blaine teased, pecking Kurt on the nose before ducking away, both of them laughing.

*******

With dinner finally in the oven, Kurt pretended to read the latest issue of his favorite fashion magazine while watching his family play through the large bay window.  Finn had arrived about ten minutes ago and was happily tossing a baseball back and forth with his daughter while Jackson and Blaine boxed, pausing every so often to explain a move to Stephen, who was watching with rapt attention.

Kurt Hummel was a lucky man.

After several years of going back and forth, he and Blaine had decided not to have any children of their own.  It was selfish, really, but they loved the life they’d built together and were both very set in their ways.  With two nieces and a nephew, there was no shortage of children for them to love and care for.  They simply preferred to send them back to their parents at the end of the day.

Arabella, now ten years old, had been the first.  Blaine and Kurt had been back in The Olde World for only a few weeks when Cooper’s wife Molli approached them, four months pregnant and with little success at contacting her soulmate, who had remained behind in The New World.  Blaine was reluctant at first, but it was hard to stay bitter around Molli’s warmth and gentle humor.  In the end they were both there for the birth of their first niece.  Blaine had fallen in love with Ari immediately and for good—even when she shaped up to be more like her father than her mother, his affection hadn’t wavered.

Cooper had returned two months later when the news finally reached him, and Blaine’s animosity towards his brother flared anew at the sudden competition for Ari’s affections.  Kurt tried to mediate, but it was difficult when Blaine still refused to speak a word to the older man.  There were numerous awkward holidays and birthdays for several years until a broken leg finally caused a heated fight, followed by a fragile and long-overdue resolution.  Kurt had resigned himself to the fact that the brothers would never resume the relationship they had once shared, but now they tolerated each other and were courteous, and that was enough to satisfy him.

Then there was Patti, Finn and Rachel’s first child, who was about to turn nine.  She was born pretty as a picture with her mother’s fine, dark features and her father’s smile.  Rachel had named her after the famous Patti Lupone in the hopes that she would follow the actress’s esteemed path to stardom, but alas, this wasn’t to be.  Patti was Finn’s daughter in spirit, although she did possess her mother’s stubborn streak and incessant ambition.  What Patti loved more than anything else in the world was baseball.  She was determined to one day play on The Olde World’s venerated international (all-men’s) team and travel the world, competing and winning trophies.  Having known and loved his spunky niece since her first moments of life, Kurt was equally determined—and convinced— that she would.

Stephen, Patti’s seven-year-old brother (who was named for the late and great Sondheim, of course) was far more quiet and subdued.  Physically he was an interesting blend of his parents, his face very similar to his father’s but his build slight and his complexion darker like Rachel’s.  While he had inherited his mother’s love of music, Stephen’s talents were instrumental rather than vocal.  He was already quite adept at the piano and violin for his young age, could fluently read music and had even taken a few minute strides into composing.  Kurt treasured the hours he spent with the boy sharing in their mutual love of music, with Blaine and Rachel and even Finn sometimes joining in. 

Finally, there was Jackson.

Mike had approached Kurt and Blaine only a short time after they reached a decision not to have children with a rather unique request of service to the resistance.  As support for the group’s efforts grew in The New World, a need was created to assist those adolescents whose parents had turned them away for refusing rehabilitation.  Mike and Tina would foster a kid themselves if they could, he’d told them, but given that Tina had just given birth to Charlotte, they really didn’t have the time, resources, or money to properly care for an older child as well.  After some discussion, Kurt and Blaine had agreed to take on one teen at a time on a trial basis.

Jackson was the third teenager they had fostered, and while Travis (who had been adopted after staying with them for only seven months) and Jeanette (who had taken an opportunity to attend a private, all-girls boarding school in another country after living with them for a year and a half) had both held a special place in the couples’ hearts, with Jackson it was different.

He had come to them a tall, gangly boy of fourteen, complete with braces and a messy mop of reddish-brown hair.  Unlike many of the other kids in the system, Jackson was not homosexual or a no-name, and his parents hadn’t disowned him.  His mother had risked her life completing a rather dangerous mission for the resistance and his family’s home had been attacked late one night after her identity was compromised.  Their house had been burned to the ground, with Jackson’s parents, bulldog, and eight-year old sister Mary all trapped inside.  Jackson had, by chance, been staying over at a friend’s home that night.

Raising a teenager who had recently lost his family so tragically was not something Kurt and Blaine had been prepared to deal with.  There had been days of awkward silence and rejected attempts at comfort or conversation, which eventually gave way to half-assed attempts at conversation and screaming fits that ended with slammed doors and days of the boy refusing to leave his room.  It had been miserable and difficult and frustrating far beyond their limits, but somehow the three of them had muddled through it.  Now there was openness and trust and even love.  Slowly and cautiously, the young man they knew had begun to rise from the ashes of his past.

And he was truly wonderful.

Jackson was now taller, still gangly, and under Kurt’s unrelenting influence a good deal better groomed.  It was difficult to pinpoint what he was most passionate about, because truthfully Jackson liked everything.  Unmuted by grief, Jackson was one of the most lively, kind, and genuine people Kurt had ever had the pleasure to know.  He was up for anything, anytime—baseball with Patti, hiking with “Uncle” Mike, baking and sewing with Kurt, even running lines with Rachel or Cooper.  Kurt often thought that his soulmate, wherever she was, was going to be a very lucky lady indeed.  Jackson would undoubtedly be an amazing mate and father someday; he was already an incredible friend and son.

Kurt smiled to himself as the timer went off.  He rushed to pull the casserole out of the oven, then outside to beckon his family to dinner.

*******

Dinner was, as usual, a rowdy affair.  Patti went on and on about the local team’s latest victory, Jackson was eager to describe the perfection of a girl he’d spotted that morning in class (“no, I don’t know her name yet guys, geesh”), and Finn wanted to chat about one his favorite students with Blaine, as she’d been in his class a few years prior.  The chaos was interrupted twice—first by Rachel’s appearance halfway through the main course, and then when Cooper called wanting to argue about why his precious daughter had arrived home in such a foul mood.  (This time it was Kurt who refused to allow the brothers to talk.)  By the time the Hudson’s left, Kurt was thoroughly exhausted and Blaine looked much the same.  When Burt phoned the house, as he did every night, Kurt happily handed him over to Jackson who was slowly learning how to restore a car.  Content that there would be no more disturbances, Kurt and Blaine cuddled together on the couch just in time to catch the evening news.

Or twenty minutes of it before Runway Rebels aired, anyway.

To their delight, Mercedes was on, giving the latest presidential address.

“It’s so nice that they cover this here now,” Kurt commented absentmindedly as his friend answered questions about her new plan to nurture the presence of the Source in The New World.

“There’s always been more of an open policy over here, even before Sam took over for his grandmother, put the new peace treaty hasn’t hurt.  Even the barrier’s starting to respond; Mike was just telling me yesterday how the exit windows are slowly beginning to lengthen.”

“That’s wonderful,” Kurt remarked.  “Did you ever think ten, fifteen, twenty years ago that we’d be here, together, living in a world like this?”

Blaine hummed happily and turned his face to nuzzle into Kurt’s neck.  “I had always dreamed.  This was always what I was fighting for.  But I still feel that we’re truly blessed to have achieved it.”

Kurt smiled down at him brilliantly, then tilted his head to catch his mouth in a kiss.  “Let’s just skip the show, head to bed early.”

“But it’s your favorite,” Blaine protested half-heartedly, his eyebrow quirking in that familiar way that made Kurt laugh.

“You’re my favorite,” Kurt corrected, abruptly sitting up and tugging the other man to follow as he clicked off the TV.  “We’ll tape it; it’s fine.”

“Are we going to sleep early?” Blaine asked hopefully.

Kurt scoffed.  “Always with the one-track mind,” he teased as they climbed the stairs, their hands never parting.

Two hours later, as Kurt’s body curled around his soulmate’s and he settled in to sleep, he felt it.  For a moment—maybe even a long one—everything in his world was right.