As a reminder, the guards only know the prisoners by number and refer to them that way throughout the study. It can get confusing at times, so here’s the line-up of prisoners, guards, and the prisoners’ numbers for your reference.

The Line-Up

Nick - Prisoner 137 - Guarded by Sebastian Smythe

Jeff - Prisoner 138 - Guarded by Sebastian Smythe

Kurt - Prisoner 219 - Guarded by Blaine Anderson

Sam - Prisoner 474 - Guarded by David Karofsky

Possible Selves: The ideal selves that a person would like to become, the selves a person could become, and the selves a person is afraid of becoming.

“No, I’m fine here. Really, Anderson. You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

Blaine sighed. “I’m sure you can, but that’s not going to stop me from worrying,” he replied honestly.

Prisoner 219’s eyes softened a bit. “I’m good. Really.” He looked down at the jacket still wrapped around his shoulders. “Thanks for the jacket,” he continued, starting to slide it off his arms.

“No, no…Keep it,” Blaine insisted. “You need it more than me.” He rose to his feet, sensing that the conversation was over, brushing dust from his pants as he stood.

Prisoner 219 gave him a shy, grateful smile, zipping the fleece jacket up once more and snuggling into the folds. He rested his head against the wall, feeling a creeping exhaustion pulling his eyelids shut, even as he fought back another yawn.

“You should get some sleep,” Blaine encouraged, seeing Prisoner 219 fighting to keep his eyes open. “So this is goodnight, I guess?” he asked, feeling suddenly awkward and overly formal.

“Goodnight Anderson.”

May 18th, 1960

Kurt blinked in the bright sunlight, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his suit, the wool scratchy and too hot, the tie feeling more and more like a noose around his neck. All around him, people wept quietly, the collective outpouring of grief more numbing than anything else. Kurt continued to stare at the damp grass, being sure to look anywhere but there and gripped his dad's hand a little tighter.

Kurt kept his face stoic as people began to come forward, one by one, pausing in front of the place where Kurt did not want to look before offering hugs, pats on the shoulder, and words of comfort that washed over him like a wave, unheard and unwanted. But he sensed that something else was coming as the crowd began to thin and his dad gripped his hand a little tighter, seeming to steel himself for something. Kurt allowed himself to be lead forward by his dad, still staring steadfastly at the ground. Suddenly, there was a sound, a low rumble and creak, and the sounds of grief around Kurt magnified. His father was bending down slightly, pressing something into his hand, but Kurt could barely register it over the ringing in his ears and the pounding of his heart. He finally looked up then, glancing at the object that had been thrust into his hand. A single yellow rose. His mother's favorite. Kurt swallowed hard, trying to breathe against the growing tightness in his chest.

His dad finally spoke then, his voice hoarse and raw sounding. “Kurt... Hey buddy, look at me, okay?”

Kurt slowly forced his eyes upward, focusing on his father's face while struggling mightily to block out the background.

“Hey kiddo...” Burt spoke sadly, staring down at his son, looking much too grown up for his eight years in his dark suit. “You doing okay? We're just gonna put the flowers in the...” Burt stopped and drew a deep breath, unable to continue. “J-Just toss your flower in like me, okay buddy? Then we're going to go back to the house with everyone and get something to eat.”

Kurt chewed on his lip nervously, not wanting to do what his dad told him, but because that would mean looking there. But he'd promised his mom that he would be brave, so Kurt simply nodded, watching with wide eyes as his dad tossed the yellow rose into the...hole. Wait, what-? Kurt was confused. Where did his mom go?

Kurt could see his dad looking to him expectantly, waiting for Kurt to mimic his actions. And Kurt was honestly lost, because as much as he's tried to avoid looking there, he knew that his mom had been there in that...box. But now she was gone. On instinct, he took a step forward, peering down into the hole. Several feet down sat the box, which had been lowered into the earth, explaining the cracking, rumbling sound Kurt had heard minutes earlier. Kurt felt his chest constrict as he noticed the single yellow rose lying on top of the coffin, the brightness seeming so out of place against the dark mahogany wood and deep brown earth.

Kurt sank to his knees at the edge of the hole, breathing heavily. His mom was still in there. It was dark down there and scary and what if she couldn't breathe? Kurt knew somewhere in the back of his mind that his mom was gone, and that it wasn't really her in there, at least not anymore, but that did nothing to stem the panic that was quickly overtaking him.

Kurt began to cry in earnest, gripping the yellow rose that his dad had given him between his fingers so tightly that he pricked his thumb on a thorn, barely feeling the pain as a drop of red blood oozed out. He tugged at the tie around his neck, feeling as if it was strangling him. It was so hot and he couldn't breathe and everyone was staring at him and all he wanted was his mom. There were hands on him now, lifting him to his feet, whispered words of comfort, and he was being pulled away from the ground. Away from his mom. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe, trying not to imagine what it would feel like to be trapped in that hole. Through the darkness, he could just make out the whispered words of comfort and clung to them like he was drowning.

“Shhh buddy, it's okay. It's okay now. I know, Kurt. I know. You're okay. I'm here.”

Blaine was pulled from his uneasy sleep by the sound of banging. He shivered slightly, reaching down to pull his duvet closer, startling slightly when his hand found nothing but cold cement wall. With a groan, he forced his eyes open, finally remembering that he wasn't safe in his dorm bedroom. He sat up straighter, wincing at the crick in his neck from having fallen asleep sitting up against the wall while on guard duty. He glanced down the hall nervously, confirming that the door to the guard room was still shut, meaning that neither Sebastian nor Karofsky had witnessed his latest failure as prison guard. He had a feeling that literally falling asleep on the job was going to do nothing to help his case when Sebastian inevitably ratted him out to Dr. Cohen.

Blaine's eyes were just fluttering closed again from sheer exhaustion when another noise startled him. There was that loud banging noise again followed by what Blaine swore was a...whimper? What the hell? Blaine stumbled to his feet, curiosity and a vague sense of dread propelling him down the hall towards the prisoner cells. He peered into the first cell, smiling slightly at surprisingly domestic scene, even amongst the harshness of their shared environment. Prisoners 137 and 138 had moved their beds together against the wall of their shared cell. Prisoner 137's hand was stretched onto Prisoner 138's bed, resting carefully on Prisoner 138's forearm, seemingly to reassure him, even in sleep.

Before Blaine could move on to check the next cell, a muffled scream pierced the silence of the darkened hallway, this time leaving no question who or what was making the sound. Prisoner 219. Blaine felt his stomach drop at the raw fear in Prisoner 219's voice. Hurriedly, Blaine made his way to his prisoner's cell, freezing at the sight of the single bed sitting empty. Shit, 219 was STILL in solitary?

Blaine rushed towards the closet, wincing as another bang echoed down the hall. Finally, his hand closed around the door knob, turning it quickly, needing to see Prisoner 219. Fuck. The door was locked. Blaine fiddled with the lock, swearing repeatedly under his breath at the memory of the key Karofsky was wearing on a lanyard around his neck. Now what?

At the sound of another whimper from the other side of the door, Blaine was on his knees, pressing his ear to the thick wood as he tried to listen.

“219?” Blaine called tentatively. “Hey, you okay in there? It's just me...Anderson. Everyone else is asleep. They've got the door locked, but I can try to get the key from Karofsky if you're hurt...or?”

Blaine waited with bated breath, but there was nothing but the sound of heavy breathing on the other side of the door.

“219? Please...I just need to know that you're okay. Can you... Will you just talk to me for a second? What's going on in there?”

Blaine listened carefully, his face crinkling with confusion at what he heard next.

“Stop,” Kurt gasped shakily. “Please, she can't breathe in there. I can't....we can't breathe. Just make it stop... Oh god, please.”

Blaine felt an ache in the pit of his stomach at the sound of Prisoner 219's gasps and desperate pleas. He still wasn't quite sure what was going on, but he knew that Prisoner 219 was scared. He needed help.

“219, it's okay. It's okay now. I know you're scared. I know. But you're okay. I'm here.

Kurt was sobbing now, little gasping breaths and whimpers that escaped against his will. But through the darkness, he heard a familiar voice telling him that it was okay.

“D-dad?”

Blaine was halfway on his feet, his hand still pressed against the wooden door as if Prisoner 219 could see or feel his touch when a single word stopped him in his tracks. Dad? It hit him all at once. Prisoner 219 was obviously dreaming, having a nightmare. That explained the crying, the heavy breathing, and the words that didn't quite make sense. Blaine felt a pull of longing as he realized that even in his sleep, Prisoner 219 was seeking out family. What must it be like to know even in the depths of a nightmare that your father was there for you? Blaine had no idea, but ached with a longing to have a home, a family like 219's to cling to.

Blaine drew in a shaky breath, forcing his mind away from those dark thoughts. No, right now, Prisoner 219 still needed him. His cries were growing louder and Blaine feared that he might wake up Sebastian or Karofsky at any moment. He shuddered to think what they might do to 219 if they found him in such a state.

“Hey, 2-1...” Blaine started, before trailing off. Stupid study and stupid fucking rules... What's his name? Frustrated, Blaine tried again. “Hey buddy, it's okay. Just breathe. You're safe. I'm here. I won't let anyone hurt you, okay? Just sleep. Everything will be okay in the morning.”

Blaine held his breath, waiting to see if his words would work. Slowly, 219's breathing started to even out, the whimpers becoming quieter and less panicked. Blaine felt the knot in his stomach lessen just the slightest bit, but he still ached with a need to see Prisoner 219 with his own eyes, to know that he was safe. Blaine didn't know how or why, but 219 had awakened something in him he'd never experienced before. Suddenly, his earlier worries seemed insignificant. Blaine didn't give a shit about Karofsky or Sebastian or Dr. Cohen. All he cared about was making sure that Prisoner 219 was okay. And in that moment, Blaine knew he was finally ready to stand up, to do whatever it took to keep him safe.

He pressed his hand against the door once more, whispering, “You're safe. Everything's okay, now. I'm going to protect you. No one will hurt you as long as I'm here. I promise.”

Blaine yawned as he finished buttoning the khaki uniform, readying himself to face his fifth full day of guard duty. Despite his lack of sleep and bone-weary exhaustion, Blaine was surprisingly energized with purpose. He knew what he had to do now. He knew why he was here. And he was ready to do whatever it took to get Prisoner 219 to trust him so that he could keep him safe. He'd made a promise to 219, one that he was determined to keep.

Blaine strode into the dining room where the prisoners reluctantly picked at their food while Karofsky and Sebastian paced in front of the assembled prisoners, their eyes narrowed as if to daring the others to rebel as 219 had. And where was 219? Blaine scanned the room nervously, but there was no sign on his prisoner.

“Hey Karofsky,” Blaine greeted, anxious to rid himself of Dave as soon as possible so he could find 219. “Time for me to take over. You can go grab a nap now.”

“About time. I've had about all I can take of these idiots for one day. Do you think you can handle keeping them in line for once, Anderson?” Karofsky looked to Sebastian, exchanging a wary glance. It was clear that neither of them fully trusted Blaine. Join the club, Blaine thought darkly.

“Yeah Karofsky, I've got it. We're not going to have any problems today, okay?” Blaine reassured automatically. He was willing to say whatever needed to be said at this point to get rid of Karofsky so he could find out where Prisoner 219 was and ensure that he was okay after the events of last night.

Karofsky gave Blaine a disbelieving grunt, looking to Sebastian who quickly waved him off. “Don't worry, love. I'm more than capable of keeping Anderson and the prisoners in line.”

“Whatever,” muttered Karofsky, already halfway out the door, leaving Blaine, Sebastian, and the prisoners to fend for themselves.

Blaine watched Karofsky leave, waiting until he was out of earshot before asking the one question that had been on his mind since he awoke. “Where's 219? Shouldn't he be in here with everyone else?”

Sebastian sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Where do you think? Same place he's been since yesterday. And no, he shouldn't be in here. This is the dining room, and since your delicate little flower refuses to dine with the rest of the prisoners, he's right where he belongs.”

Blaine was on his feet almost immediately. “He's still in solitary? Jesus, Sebastian! He's been in there for almost 24 hours. I thought even Dr. Cohen frowned upon that. Has anyone even checked on him? Made sure he's still alive?”

“Karofsky went in there earlier and tried to force him to eat. But your pretty pretty princess wouldn't eat and didn't want out. Karofsky seriously almost beat the shit out of him, but I stopped him. You're welcome, by the way,” Sebastian quipped, obvious annoyance starting to show through at Blaine's one track mind.

“He did what?” Blaine spat, his hands balling into fists on instinct. “Fuck...okay, I'm going to go get him out of there.”

“You'll do no such thing,” Sebastian replied, his voice suddenly cold. “You're on duty now. You have to stay here and help me keep these prisoners under control. You're going to do your job, Blaine. Cherub Cheeks can follow the rules like the rest of the prisoners or he can rot in there as far as I'm concerned.”

“I am doing my job, Sebastian. 219 is my prisoner. If something happens to him, I'm responsible. And I'm pretty sure it's not going to take two people to keep these guys under control,” Blaine continued, gesturing to the assembled prisoners who sat silently picking at their food and eavesdropping on the guards' conversation. And without another word, Blaine stood, grabbing the set of keys off Sebastian's belt and heading towards the door, forcing himself to tune out Sebastian's shouted threats as he left the dining room and headed down the hallway towards the closet where 219 was still entombed.

“Hey 219?” Blaine called as he reached the door, not wanting to startle him as he opened the door. “I'm coming in, okay?”

“I'm fine, Anderson,” 219 muttered. “And I'm not eating, so don't even bother.”

“Okay, okay,” Blaine soothed, already feeling off balance. “Like I said last night, I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to.” Blaine fumbled for right key and began to unlock the door. “I'm still coming in,” he warned.

“Fine,” Prisoner 219 huffed out.

Seconds later, Blaine was gazing down at Prisoner 219 who was huddled in the corner, looking exhausted and drawn, blinking in the bright light. He felt a small rush of familiarity and something else he couldn't quite but a name to at the sight of his fleece jacket still wrapped around 219. It felt right somehow. “Hey,” Blaine breathed as he continued to scan 219's face, worrying at his even paler skin and the deep purple shadows beneath his eyes.

“Hi,” Prisoner 219 echoed with a small twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

Blaine was on his knees before he realized what he was doing, automatically sliding into the closet to take a seat next to 219 just as he'd done the night before.

219's eyebrows rose slightly in surprise but he didn't comment on the development, choosing instead to slide over, making room for Anderson to sit beside him.

Blaine slid in next to 219 gratefully, reveling a bit at the slight press of his knee against 219's. His eyes were drawn back to Prisoner 219 almost immediately, studying his face carefully, still worried. 219 caught him staring almost immediately, and Blaine blushed, giving him a shy smile. “Hey...”

219 rolled his eyes again, affectionately this time, or so it seemed. “Yes, you said...”

“Right,” Blaine mumbled, blushing brighter. His face turned serious as he looked to Prisoner 219 again. Up close, 219's skin was so pale it was practically translucent, contrasting dramatically with the purpled bruise-like circles that ringed his eyes. He looked exhausted. Unwell. Blaine began chewing on the inside of his cheek as his stomach began to knot up again. He needed to get 219 out of here. Now.

“How are you doing?” he asked gently.

“Oh, fabulous. Never better. I'm thinking about asking Dr. Cohen if I can book a cell for my next vacation. You?” Despite the sarcasm, there was little bite to 219's words.

“Same. I think I might change my career plans. Drop out of OSU and go into the police academy or prison guard school or wherever it is they train you up in how to be an asshole.”

Prisoner 219 chuckled at Blaine's response, flooding Blaine's chest with warmth. Anderson couldn't help but notice how 219's whole face transformed when lit up with a smile. God, his smile.

But Blaine's elation was short-lived as Prisoner 219's chuckle turned into a dry, hacking cough. Instinctively, Blaine patted him on the back until the cough subsided, his eyes now worried as he watched 219 carefully.

“You okay?” Anderson asked with undue concern.

“I'm fine,” 219 replied automatically.

“No really, how are you feeling? Are you getting sick?”

Prisoner 219 scoffed. “No, I'm not sick. Just a little tickle in my throat. It's really dry in here.” He looked at Anderson, shaking his head at the naked worry in his eyes. “I told you, Anderson. I'm fine. I don't need anyone to take care of me. I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, you mentioned that. And I'm pretty sure I told you that I knew you could take care of yourself, but it wasn't going to stop me from worrying. Sound familiar?”

Prisoner 219 sighed heavily. “Vaguely.”

“Okay, so humor me for a few minutes, alright? Still not going to eat?”

“Nope,” Prisoner 219 replied immediately, folding his arms over his chest to emphasize his point.

Now it was Blaine's turn to sigh. “And I take it there's no talking you out of that? Even if I bring you some food and make sure Sebastian and Karofsky don't find out about it?”

“Yeah no...still not happening.”

“Okay, well when was the last time you had something to drink? Is that why your throat's so dry? Because you can't go that long without water... You'll get dehydrated and...”

“Anderson, stop. Breathe. I haven't had any water since they locked me up here yesterday afternoon, but I'm not opposed to something to drink. I'm thirsty. Just water though.”

“Okay,” Blaine nodded, relieved to be able to do something concrete to help. “Okay, let's go get you some water then,” he said, standing and offering his hand to 219, intending to help him up.

“Uh uh,” 219 warned, shaking his head. “I'm not leaving solitary. That wasn't part of the deal.”

“Seriously? C'mon 219, you don't need to stay in here any longer. Karofsky isn't on duty anymore. He's sleeping so you don't need to worry about him.”

“I'm not worried about him,” Prisoner 219 spoke, his voice suddenly hard and determined. “But the deal was that I either had to eat or stay in here. And I'm not eating.”

“Oh god, that was forever ago. Nobody is going to remember unless you bring it up,” Blaine protested.

Prisoner 219 gazed back at him with a look that clearly said, “Come on, really? Even you don't believe that.”

“Okay fine, maybe Karofsky remembers but he's sleeping so you don't have to worry about him. And Sebastian...” Blaine sighed heavily, knowing that Sebastian would be less than thrilled to have 219 out of solitary confinement, but Blaine was determined. He'd have to find way to convince Sebastian to let 219 go back to his cell.

“And fuck Sebastian...he's an idiot. He'll just have to deal with it,” Blaine finished lamely, still trying to formulate a plan.

“Oh, is he now?” an icy voice came from the doorway. Sebastian. Fuck.

Prisoner 219 watched in horror as Sebastian stepped inside the narrow closet, extending a hand to pull a stunned Anderson to his feet. Sebastian was obviously fighting to keep his face impassive, but it was clear to see his hurt underneath. While a sheepish Blaine rose to his feet, Sebastian smoothly reached down, snagging the keys to solitary confinement out of Blaine's pocket. “You won't be needing these anymore,” he said coolly, pocketing them and looking to Blaine as if daring him to protest.

“Sebastian, I – I didn't... I – I'm sorry,” Blaine sputtered, panicked. To be totally honest, he didn't really give a damn about hurting Sebastian's feelings, but he did care about not getting kicked out of the study. If Sebastian decided to report him to Dr. Cohen as he seemed on the verge of doing now, there would be no one left to protect 219. And that was a risk Blaine was unwilling to take.

“That's quite enough out of you for now, Anderson. And gee, I seem to remember something about Doctor Cohen saying one of the biggest rules was no first names. I wonder how he's going to feel about you breaking one of his rules?” Sebastian spat, his voice all false earnestness with a surprisingly biting undercurrent of fury.

“And what are we going to do with you, babycakes?” Sebastian continued, addressing Kurt. “Now that you know my first name, we can't have you interacting you with the other prisoners. You might share your insider knowledge. Well, guess it looks like you've earned yourself another night in hole. Better get comfortable because it's going to be a long night. I'll make sure of it.”

“Seba-... I mean, Smythe,” Blaine corrected himself. “Look, I'm the one who fucked up here. Don't punish him for my mistake.”

“I'm not. I'm just keeping him right – where – he - belongs,” Sebastian spat, emphasizing every word. “And you are going to keep your mouth shut if you know what's good for you. Now, get your ass back in the dining room and cuff the prisoners so we can move them back to their cells. And then you and I are going to have a little chat. Got it?”

“Yeah, I- I will. I just have to do one thing first,” Blaine replied, looking back to 219 worriedly, uneasy about leaving 219 alone with Sebastian.

“And what would that be?” Sebastian asked impatiently.

“Water. I'm going to bring him a bottle of water,” he replied, gesturing towards 219. “He hasn't had anything to drink since last night and we're going to get in big shit if he gets dehydrated and blacks out.”

Sebastian's entire body clenched in obvious frustration. After a moment's silence too long, he drew a breath and looked back to Blaine, his calm, quiet voice somehow more menacing than the obvious anger and threats that had come earlier. “Fine. Make it quick. I'll wait here with him until you get back. And then you're going to get your ass into the dining room and do your fucking job. Got it?”

“Got it,” Blaine replied, practically running down the hall to retrieve a bottle of water, not wanting to leave 219 alone with Sebastian for a second longer than necessary.

He was back in seconds, bending down and handing a chilled bottle of water to Prisoner 219 while exchanging a meaningful glance, trying to communicate everything he hadn't the opportunity to say with his eyes.

“Thanks,” Prisoner 219 replied gratefully, immediately screwing open the top and downing nearly a third of the bottle in one long gulp. Blaine smiled in reply and gave 219 what he hoped was a reassuring pat on the knee.

“Alright, enough flirting with the virgin bride,” Sebastian warned. “C'mon, we've got work to do.”

Blaine nodded, peering over Sebastian's head at Prisoner 219 one final time. “You okay?” he mouthed.

Prisoner 219 gave him that look before finally nodding minutely.

“Enjoy your stay, princess,” Sebastian snarled. “Don't plan on seeing the light of day for quite some time.

Blaine cringed. “I'm sorry,” he mouthed apologetically to 219 before the door was swinging shut, leaving 219 alone and in the dark.

“Oh stop your moping, love,” Sebastian admonished Blaine later that afternoon. “I'm tired of seeing that sour mug on such a pretty face.”

“I'm not moping. Just doing my job,” Blaine replied with irritation. “I thought that's what you wanted me to do. No one said I had to be happy about it.”

“Look, the whole star-crossed lovers thing you've got going on with 219 is starting to wear thin. Your poor baby penguin may have a nice face, but I've seen his equipment...” Sebastian leaned forward, massaging Blaine's shoulders as he purred the last few words into Blaine's ear. “And trust me when I say that he's got nothing on me where it counts.”

Blaine shrugged off Sebastian's wandering hands angrily. It had been like this non-stop since Karofsky went off duty save the fifteen minutes that Sebastian has spent reaming him out in front of everyone for breaking “guard code” and getting too attached to Prisoner 219. But Sebastian seemed all too eager to “kiss and makeup” and Blaine was starting to wonder if he wouldn't prefer the yelling over the relentless flirting.

“What's your problem, baby? We both know what you want and I can give it to you,” Sebastian replied coyly.

“Dude, look I've had it. You're delusional. I don't want this. I don't want anything to do with you. So just please, for the love of god, keep your hands off me,” Blaine shouted, gathering steam. “And them! Just keep your hands off everyone. Give it up!”

Sebastian was on his feet in flash, his eyes gleaming darkly, all traces of flirtation and warmth gone. “And why is that exactly, huh? Why don't you want me, Anderson? You're clearly gay and I'm way out of your league, so if anyone's delusional here, it's you. So why don't you want me? Maybe it's because you're stuck on your girly little fag prisoner?”

Blaine completely lost control then, all the pent up frustration anger being released in a stream. “Don't you fucking talk about him like that! Don't you dare talk about any of them like that. They're people. They aren't just toys for you to play with. They are human beings. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, letting out a dark laugh at Blaine's sudden rage. “Oh, how's it up there on that moral high ground, honey? Welcome to the real world. Look, here's the deal: you need to start doing your job. Your job isn't to fall in love, it's to regulate. You like 219 soooo much? You think he's such a great person. Fine. You deal with him and just wait and see how you like it when I tell Dr. Cohen that you are hooking up with the prisoner and giving him special favors behind the scenes. You've got 'till lights out to get your little boyfriend with the program or you're out of here. I don't care what you do. Blow him for all I care, but he better be a model prisoner by lights out or so help me god, you're gone. And you really don't want to know what Karofsky and I will do to him once you aren't here to be his hero. Get it together, Anderson. Before it's too late.”

Blaine spent the rest of the day in a panicked daze, sleepwalking through his guard duties while internally he was still reeling. Blaine had no doubt that Sebastian's threat was genuine, but he had no idea how to keep 219 safe. Prisoner 219 seemed so determined to stick to his convictions and Blaine had a feeling that no amount of coaxing or convincing would be enough to get 219 to agree to eat and become the “model prisoner” as Sebastian dictated. But Blaine was running out of options, so when he found a moment to sneak away, he took it. He escorted Prisoners 137 and 138 to the bathroom, leaving them there alone to wash up and take care of business while he stole down the hall to the closet where 219 was still trapped.

Blaine cursed as he reached the door, realizing that Sebastian still held the only set of keys to the hole.

“Hey, 219?” Blaine called softly, tapping tentatively on the door was he spoke. “It's me. How are you doing in there?”

“I'm fine,” came a muffled reply from the other side of the door. “Seriously Anderson, you need to stop worrying about me. Aside from boredom, not a lot is going on in here, you know?”

“Look, something's happened,” Blaine began urgently, deciding honesty was his only option at this point. “I don't have much time, but I need you to trust me when I say that you're not safe if you stay in there. I know that you want to stick to your principles and I respect that, I really do, but if you don't start eating and at least pretending to follow the rules, Karofsky and Sebastian are going to hurt you. I don't know how, but I know they'll find a way to do it and get away with it. They...they want me gone, 219, and if they succeed in getting me kicked out of the study, I won't...” Blaine took a deep breath, forcing down tears of frustration, fear, and panic. “I can't protect you if I'm not here. You'll be all on your own and there'll be no one left to stop him. Please 219... I just...I don't want to see you get hurt.”

Prisoner 219 sighed audibly, pausing for several moments before finally replying. “I know,” he said simply. “I heard Sebastian yelling earlier.”

“You did?” Blaine asked, honestly shocked, his cheeks coloring slightly as he remembered all the crude comments Sebastian had made about Blaine wanting to have sex with 219. “Oh god... If I..,said anything to offend you, I'm so...”

“Anderson, stop. You have nothing to apologize for. Thank you for standing up for me. You're the only one who seems to give a damn.”

“Of course,” Blaine replied, instantly relieved. This was good. Kurt heard Sebastian's threats, which means he'll take them seriously. “Okay...so you'll come out then? You'll eat?” Blaine asked.

“No.”

“No?” Blaine asked, panicked and more than a little confused.

“219, please...you know that Sebastian was serious. If you don't do what they ask, they're going to hurt you. I'll be out of here by tomorrow morning. There's still over a week left in this damn study and I don't want to even think about the awful things Karofsky and Sebastian will have come up with by then,” Blaine spoke in a rush, fighting to keep his voice steady.

“Look Anderson, no matter what I said before, you're a good guy. And I appreciate that you're trying to help. But this is important to me. It's not just a study any more. I have something to prove. It's just something I have to do...for me. I don't expect you to understand, but nothing you say is going to change my mind.

Kurt listened carefully for Anderson's reaction. For a moment, there was nothing but silence and the sound of Anderson's ragged breathing. Then Kurt heard a loud thump as Anderson pounded his fist into the wall in frustration, cursing under his breath as he did. Kurt held his breath, his resolve weakening slightly at the pleading quality to Anderson's breath.

“Please...” Blaine tried once more, his voice breaking slightly. “Will you just...just...think about it, okay? If you don't want to give in to the other guards, then just drop out. Hell, I'll even help you escape if you want to leave tonight. I...I just can't deal with the thought of you staying here without me. So don't give me an answer now. Just think about it.”

Blaine's voice grew distant as he turned, seeing Prisoners 137 and 138 open the door to the bathroom tentatively. “Fuck... I've...I've got to go before Sebastian catches me. But I'll be back. Promise me you'll think about everything while I'm gone, okay?”

And before Kurt could form a coherent reply, Blaine was gone, wearily re-cuffing the two prisoners and leading them back down the hall towards their shared cells, stooped over slightly as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Anderson? Anderson! Dude, what the fuck?” a harsh voice shouted, finally cutting through the turmoil raging in Blaine's mind.

“Huh? Uh, what? I mean...sorry, what was that again, Karofsky?” Blaine tried to cover lamely. He'd spent the last hour going through the motions of the count on autopilot, his mind still trying to formulate a plan to convince 219 to leave the study. He'd given up any pretense of trying to be a “good guard” and was doing the absolute bare minimum, scarcely caring that he was about to be kicked out of the study penniless and homeless. Right now, the only thing that mattered was 219 and trying to find a way to ensure his safety.

Karofsky rolled his eyes, before speaking, enunciating each word as if he was speaking to a mentally handicapped child. “I said, it's your turn to come up with a punishment. Since your precious little 219 is still refusing to eat and play by our prison rules, his fellow prisoners are going to be left to suffer the consequences. And it's your turn to come up with the punishment. Make it good. I'm pretty sure that Sebastian has made the stakes crystal clear.

Blaine nodded, as if lost in thought while he continued to consider what could be done about the current predicament. He glanced up at the other prisoners who were dead on their feet, panting heavily from the hours of physical exertion. Aside from Prisoners 137 and 138 who continued to cling to one another at every possible opportunity, it was clear that it was every man for himself. And maybe that was the bigger issue. If Anderson couldn't be here, maybe the prisoners could come together to protect one another? Safety in numbers, perhaps?

Blaine smiled as inspiration struck. 219 needed to know that he wasn't alone. Maybe he could get the other prisoners to sacrifice something in exchange for getting 219 out of solitary confinement. Blaine was desperate, so he quickly decided it was worth a shot.

“Okay, I've got something. Listen up prisoners. I told you once and I'll tell you again. You are bad prisoners. You don't have each other's backs like you should. You're going to all be punished together, so it's about time you acted like a group. I'll give you two options. This is your one chance to get 219 out of solitary...”

“Oh god,” Sebastian groaned. “Not this nonsense again.”

“Just...give me a second. If you don't like my punishment, you can come up with something else, okay?” Blaine replied.

“So here's the deal. Give up your blankets for the night and we'll let 219 out of the hole. If not, he's staying in there indefinitely and you'll officially be the worst prisoners ever. You decide.”

Karofsky was the next to protest. “Oh come on, dude. That's the stupidest punishment I've ever heard.”

Sebastian placed a restraining arm on Karofsky. “Now hang on a minute,” he started, a slightly evil gleam in his eye. “Let's just see where this goes.”

He turned to the panting prisoners. “Alright ladies, line up. You heard Officer Anderson. You've got two choices and I want each and every one of you to tell 219 your decision. Move out.”

Blaine followed close behind the last of the prisoners, biting his lip nervously. He didn't like the slightly demented look in Sebastian's eyes. What if his plan backfired?

Karofsky's reluctantly followed along with Sebastian, grumbling the whole way.

Sebastian banged roughly on the door to the hole, smoothly unlocking it before flinging open the door, seeming to take pleasure at the sight of 219 wincing in the suddenly bright light.

“Good morning, love. Enjoying your stay?” Sebastian snarled.

“Of course, the accomodations are lovely, thank you,” 219 replied mildly, feeling slightly vindicated by the momentary flash of anger in Sebastian's eyes.

“Glad to see you're enjoying your stay. But your boyfriend here just won't shut up about how we need to let you out...blah blah blah. So he's come up with a brilliant plan to save you. Between you and me, I think he's got a bit of a hero complex and just likes saving the pretty pretty princess stuck in the dungeon, but I'll save the psychoanalysis for Dr. Cohen. Anyways, here's the deal. Prisoners, I want to you to come up here one and a time and give your answer to 219. And 219, don't forget whose idea this was.”

Blaine swallowed hard, already regretting his plan. He looked to 219, trying to communicate everything with a glance. Dear god, please let this work. Don't make 219 hate me. Again.

“Prisoner 474, you're up first. What will it be? Are you giving up your blankets so 219 can go back to his cell?”

Blaine fidgeted nervously. This was it. Prisoner 474's response was the one he was most unsure of, given that 474 rarely seemed like more than the guard's puppet, not an independent being.

Prisoner 474 stared at the floor, refusing to make eye contact with 219. Blaine's heart sank and he immediately knew that he wasn't going to help 219.

“I'm going to keep my blanket,” 474 mumbled, at least having the decency to look ashamed of himself as he replied softly.

“I'm sorry, love, but you'll have to speak up. Nice and loud. I want to make sure everyone can hear you.

474 sighed heavily but repeated, “I'm keeping my blankets” as asked.

Kurt stared resolutely as 474, trying hard to keep his face impassive. But he had to admit, it stung to see his fellow prisoners refusing to help him. He looked at Anderson, taking in his pained and stricken expression. It was immediately clear to Kurt that Sebastian had orchestrated this entire scenario as yet another way to fuck with Anderson. 219 was determined not to give him that satisfaction, so he gave Anderson a reassuring smile.

“And 474, why have you chosen not to help 219? After all, he is your fellow prisoner just like Officer Anderson was saying earlier.”

474 ran a hand over his face, looking horrified. “Do I have to have a reason?” he asked.

“Yes, each of you is going to tell 219 the reason for your decision. Nice and loud, love.”

474 hung his head in shame. “Because Prisoner 219 did a bad thing,” he droned robotically.

“Okay, thank you 474. You can get back in line now.” Sebastian's eyes scanned the two remaining prisoners, deciding to call on the second weakest prisoner next. “Alright 138, you're up.”

Kurt watched as 137 & 138 hurriedly finished their whispered conference, breaking apart. Prisoner 138 reluctantly separated from 137, fidgeting with the hem of his prison smock in a vain attempt at hiding his shaking hands.

Sebastian immediately picked up on 138's fear, and decided to use it to his advantage. “Come here, baby,” he cooed gently. “Nothing to be afraid of,” Sebastian continued, maneuvering 138 until he stood directly in front of Sebastian. Sebastian placed his hands on 138's shoulders, massaging them inappropriately as he continued to whisper reassurances. Kurt couldn't help but notice how 138 trembled harder as Officer Smythe touched him. 137 watched Sebastian carefully, his eyes flashing with a hint of fury as he watched 138 shift uncomfortably.

“Okay sweetheart, are you going to give you blankets to 219? You can always share my blankets in the guard room if you get lonely,” Sebastian leered, causing 138 to shudder. 

138 looked near tears as he looked up to 219.

“It's okay,” 219 mouthed, already anticipating 138's reply.

“I'm sorry, but no, I'm keeping my blankets,” 138 spoke shakily.

“Good boy,” Sebastian praised. “And why don't you want to share with 219?”

138 looked at the ground, shaking his head. “Because 219 did a bad thing, sir.”

“Brilliant,” Sebastian crowed, giving 138 a lingering pat on the ass. “Now off you go. 137, it's your turn now!”

137 stepped forward, placing a steadying hand on 138's shoulder and squeezing it gently as they passed one another.

“Okay 137, you know the drill. What's it going to be?”

“Can I- I need... I want to ask 219 something first,” he stuttered.

Karofsky groaned, clearly growing impatient. “Smythe, let's get this show on the road, okay?”

“Quickly 137,” Sebastian warned.

“Umm 219? Do you even want out?” 137 asked directly.

Prisoner looked up at 137, surprised at the question. He looked at Anderson, whose eyes were pleading, making it clear that he knew how badly he'd screwed things up.

With a deep breath, 219 replied. “I'm perfectly fine here. You guys don't need to give anything up for me. It's okay.”

137 nodded, seeming relieved. “Okay, if he wants to stay in there, let him. I'm keeping my blanket too. Sorry.”

“And your reason?” Sebastian asked.

“It's what he wants. He brought this on himself,” 137 replied.

“Okay, well that was one big waste of time,” Karofsky grumbled. “Lame punishment, Anderson. Alright ladies, back in line. I want to see 100 push-ups from all of you. And none of those wimpy girl push-ups either. On the ground!”

Sebastian flashed a victorious smile at Kurt. “219, always a pleasure. Enjoy your stay.” And with that, Sebastian slammed the door to the hole shut, leaving Kurt alone in the darkness, any last glimmers of hope extinguished.

Kurt sighed heavily, remembering Anderson's guilt stricken face. He now knew what Anderson had told him earlier to be true. Once Anderson was inevitably kicked out, he would be entirely and utterly alone.

Kurt rubbed at his reddened, tear swollen eyes, blinking tiredly against the sudden influx of harsh fluorescent light. He let out an involuntary groan, shivering slightly despite the warm fleece jacket zipped around him. Before his eyes could adjust to the light, a hand made its way through the darkness, reaching for him.

A warm, familiar voice, low but insistent. “C'mon, get up. You're coming with me.”

Anderson.

Kurt allowed himself to be pulled to his feet wordlessly, still disoriented and half asleep.

“Where are we g-” Kurt started.

“Shh, quiet. Everyone else is asleep. You'll see in a minute. Just trust me, okay?”

Kurt made a noncommittal noise under his breath He still wasn't sure that he trusted Anderson, but at this point, he was too tired and curious to argue. Kurt found himself stumbling slightly as Anderson continued to tug him down the hall. Immediately, Anderson's free arm wrapped around his waist, steadying him as he continued to lead Kurt by the hand.

“Careful, it's pretty dark at this end of the hallway,” Anderson whispered. “Almost there.”

Anderson stopped at the end of the hall, peering back towards the prisoner cells and guard room before opening the bathroom quietly and gesturing for Kurt to enter.

Kurt gave Anderson a strange look before reluctantly following him. “Okay Anderson, what are we doing here?”

Anderson simply gave Kurt a shy smile, shutting the bathroom door quietly behind them before leading Kurt to sit on a bench near the lockers. “Only room without cameras,” he started. “Come sit with me. Please?”

Kurt sat down with a sigh, still looking to Anderson for further explanation. When none immediately came, Kurt tried again. “Anderson, I was asleep...”

“I know...but it didn't sound like it was very restful. I could hear you yelling...” Blaine trailed off, staring at the floor as rubbed the frayed seam of his untucked guard shirt between his fingers. With a deep breath, Blaine looked up, his eyes filled with sympathy and boring into Prisoner 219's.

“And crying...you were...having a nightmare, right?” Blaine finally continued softly.

Prisoner 219's mouth widened in surprise. “I-I...I didn't know anyone could hear....that you could...” he trailed off, blushing.

“Hey, it's okay,” Blaine soothed automatically, his hand landing on Prisoner 219's shoulder. “Like I said, I'm the only one up right now. No one else heard. I just...I wanted to help. It sounded like a bad one, though. The nightmare, I mean. Same one as last night?” Blaine asked gently, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he spoke, fully anticipating that he would be shut down by Prisoner 219 at any moment.

“Yeah, it was,” Kurt replied immediately, shuddering slightly at the memory of his earlier panic as the walls seemed to close in on him from all sides. Suddenly Kurt frowned, whirling to face Anderson. “Wait, how did you know that? I didn't say anything to you about having a nightmare last night. Jesus, are you guards even spying on our dreams now?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Blaine hurried to reassure, holding up his hands. “I swear I haven't been spying on you or anything. I just...I heard you last night - while you were in solitary. You were kind of...whimpering. I was talking to you through the door for a while to try to calm you down. At first, I didn't....I didn't realize you were having a bad dream. But I thought...it seemed like the talking calmed you down. You don't remember?”

“I-I-...wh..” Kurt stuttered, lost in thought and momentarily rendered speechless. “That was you?” he breathed. “I thought I'd just dreamt that too.” Kurt finally looked up at Anderson, a dazed but slightly appreciative look on his face.

“Yup, that was me.”

“You were...you kept saying that I was safe and that nothing bad was going to happen to me...” Kurt remembered.

“Uh yeah...” Blaine responded, still unsure. “You sounded upset, but I wasn't sure...I couldn't tell why right away. Just that you were scared, so...”

“And you said that you were going to protect me. That you wouldn't let anyone hurt me,” Kurt continued, stunned.

Blaine blushed beet red, looking down as he twisted his hands in his lap nervously. “I-I...I wasn't sure...I j-just thought...I wanted to...”

“Thank you,” Kurt interrupted. He stared at Anderson, waiting for him to look up. Finally, Blaine hazarded a glance up and their eyes locked. “Seriously, Anderson. Thank you,” Kurt continued gratefully.

The smile Kurt received in return was breathtaking, lighting up Anderson's entire face.

“You're welcome. So I...uh I have something for you,” Anderson started, standing up and opening a nearby locker. Kurt watched him, curious. Carefully, Blaine removed a paper plate covered in foil before sitting back down.

“It's food. I saved you some pizza that the guards ordered for lunch. Will you please just eat?”

“Anderson, we've been through this.”

“I know, but I have to try, okay? I'm worried about you. Look, I'm out of here first thing in the morning, so I swear no one will know but me. Please?”

“You're out of here for sure?” Kurt asked, feeling surprisingly sad at the thought.

“Yeah, Sebastian and Karofsky confronted me after the count. They said I'm not doing my job. They're going to go to Dr. Cohen first thing in the morning to tell him that I've been breaking the study rules. You know that things are only going to get worse for you after I'm gone, right? I'm sure that they're determined to ride you twice as hard. You need to keep your strength up if you're going to survive another week. So will you please just eat something? You must be starving.”

“Fine,” Kurt finally acquiesced with a resigned groan. Blaine smiled, obviously relieved, as he passed over the plate of pizza.

“Thank you,” Anderson said, smiling as 219 began to nibble on a piece of cheese pizza.

“So...” Blaine started, suddenly feeling shy as they sat together in comfortable silence.

“So...” 219 echoed, chewing slowly.

Blaine smiled back at 219, his mind racing. There were so many things he wanted to share with 219 that he scarcely knew where to begin. “So listen, I have to tell you something. I don't care what those assholes said, you have an amazing voice. Where did you learn to sing like that?”

“I'm a performer,” Kurt said proudly, relishing the memory of his new life in New York. “I go to NYADA actually. Ever heard of it?”

“The Dramatic Arts School in New York? Yeah, of course I've heard of it. People say it's impossible to get into though. I'm impressed. How'd you swing that?”

“Four years of toiling in glee club and school theater productions and a hell of an audition song.”

“Wow, that's awesome. What'd you sing?”

“As Long As He Needs Me.”

“Oh yeah, I know that song – it's from Oliver, right?”

Kurt glanced at him, obvious surprise on his face. “Yeah, that's the one.”

Blaine let out a laugh at 219's expression. “Is it that shocking that I know the song?”

“Honestly? Yeah. I mean, in Lima, Ohio? I guess I just didn't peg you for the musical theater type. Are you a performer too?”

“Huh? No...not a performer. I don't have the talent, not like you anyways. I always wanted to do glee club but according to my father, singing was a waste of time. I thought about doing something with music in college, but it feels a little bit like it's too late to start now, you know?”

“Not really...it's all I've ever wanted to do so I honestly can't imagine doing anything but performing.”

Blaine smiled at Prisoner 219, admiring his certainty. He knew that the theater world was notorious for rejection and heartbreak, and realized what conviction it must have taken for 219 to make it to NYADA. To make it out of Ohio. It was hard not to be envious when he was sitting across from someone who had the life he's always wanted, had dreamed of since he was kid. Blaine knew that he probably wasn't strong enough to go after what he wanted, odds be damned, but it was hard not to wonder. If he'd had has family's support? If his parents had encouraged rather than discouraged his love of the arts? Where would he be today?

“That's amazing that you've always known what you wanted to do and now you're living it? It's got to be such a rush, huh?” Blaine asked wistfully. “And your parents – they're supportive? They don't mind you living so far away in New York?”

“Completely supportive. They're amazing. My dad whines from time to time about how far away New York is and how expensive the plane tickets are...blah blah blah. But I know he secretly loves it. He's never missed one of my shows. Even when I was just in a crappy student theater production a bunch of NYADA students were doing in some off-off-off Broadway dive.”

Blaine smiled warmly, trying to ignore the ache in the pit of his stomach, that longing for a home that he'd never really had. At least not a home like 219 had. “That's really awesome. It must be amazing to know how much they love for who you are.” Blaine paused a moment, drawing a deep breath and swallowing against the hard lump growing in his throat, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

Kurt watched Anderson carefully, seeing how emotional he'd become when the conversation shifted to family. He gave him a sympathetic glance but stayed silent, deciding not to probe further unless Anderson invited it. It was hard not to wonder about Anderson's home life. Maybe there was some truth to Sebastian's constant assertions that Anderson was gay?

Blaine quickly reined in his emotions in enough to continue. “They seemed really nice when they came for visiting day. I wanted...I was trying to give you guys your privacy, so I left the intercom off, but I could tell how much they care about you from their body language.”

“Wait, you didn't spy on our conversation?” Kurt asked, shocked.

“No...I didn't think it was right. Besides, I figured if you wanted to tell your family how awful all the guards were being, that was your right, you know?

“Well if I'd known you weren't listening, I just might have told them...” Kurt replied, chuckling. “No, honestly, my dad wanted me to leave. Begged me to leave actually. But I told him that I wasn't budging.”

“Yeah okay, about that...” Blaine interjected. “That's what I don't get. The prisoners are being treated like absolute shit. Why are you all still here? I think if our roles were reversed, I would have left by now. So what's the motivation? Is it because you need the money or...?”

Kurt rolled his eyes, frustration bubbling up to the surface yet again. Anderson seemed nice and Kurt knew that he was trying to do the right thing. But he honestly didn't get it. This had quickly become more than just a study for than Kurt. He had something to prove. When he was younger, he'd been weak. This was his chance to stand up for himself. To fight back.

“No, it's not about the money. It's hard to explain and I don't think you'd really understand anyway.” Kurt replied coolly.

Blaine sighed as he watched 219 put up his guard yet again. He'd been so sure they'd reached a breakthrough. For a moment, it seemed as if 219 trusted him. Blaine knew he was out of time. If he was going to get Prisoner 219 out of here, they'd have to act quickly.

“I want to understand, 219. I really do. And more than anything, I want to get you out of here. Now. Pleas, .let's just leave. We can go together, okay?”

Kurt shook his hand adamantly, his frustration growing. “We've been through this, Anderson. I'm staying. End of discussion.”

Blaine got to his feet and began pacing in front of 219 nervously, obviously lost in thought. “I just don't understand what's so important here. What's the big deal if you leave? Who cares what these assholes think about you as long as you're safe.”

“No, you don't get it,” Kurt said, his voice harsh but determined.

“So help me understand. Aren't you scared? Do you want them to hurt you? Think about your family, 219. What would your dad say if something bad did happen to you?”

Kurt was on his feet in a flash, standing inches from Anderson, his voice rising in volume as he grew progressively angrier. “Don't you dare! You don't know my dad. Don't bring him into this. This is between me and you. I'm not doing this for you. I'm not doing it for the other guards. I'm not even doing it for my family. I'm doing it for myself. No one is going to beat me down or make me run away. I'm stronger than all the other guards and prisoners put together, damn it, and it's time people stop treating me like a child!”

Blaine dropped to the bench, head in hands. How had he so badly miscalculated? How did he manage to screw things up with 219 again? Any trust that he'd built had clearly just been extinguished by his careless words. Blaine knew that his intentions were good and pure, but with sinking certainty, he knew those intentions counted for less than nothing now. He'd failed. Again.

“I- I don't know what else to say, 219. I don't want you to get hurt and I can't protect you. What other options do we have?”

“I don't know about you, but I'm not out of options. I'm staying. And by the end of next week, every person in here will know that nobody is going to bring me down.” Kurt gazed defiantly at Anderson, breathing heavily.

Anderson gazed back, dumbfounded. “Okay...” was all he managed. “I had to try.”

“Yes, and I had to say no. I think I'd like to go back to my cell now.”

Blaine felt as if he'd been kicked in the stomach, but somehow managed to lead 219 back to the hole in silence, completely wrapped up in his own thoughts.

Blaine's hands shook as he dialed zero on the one working phone tucked away at a desk near the reception area.

“Dalton Operator, how my I direct your call” chirped a voice almost immediately.

“Yes,” Blaine spoke, his voice trembling. “I need to report a crime.”