"A mother never forgets the name she gave her child," she whispered, her moistened lip caressing Kurt's earlobe.

Kurt shook at her words, growing limp in her arms, but his grip tight like a vice on her back. He was sure he was barely breathing at this point. She continued.

"I have been watching over you for a long time my son," she told him, and then she trembled. "Your father thinks I have left him long ago never to return. But I had no choice. They.. they came after me."

Kurt pulled away and looked into her eyes, suddenly realizing that they shared the same. They grounded him there, kept him from falling. She kept him from falling. She was everything he needed to keep from losing sense of himself.

"Who are they?" Kurt asked, his voice small and child-like. It was the most vulnerable he ever felt, even when he was with Blaine, and he prayed with all his might that this wasn't a dream. It was a dream he had before.

"Honey," his mother murmured, reaching up to brush the hair out of his eyes. "There are many dangers for people like me, dangers you could have faced without the protection of your father."

Kurt started slowly piecing the everything together. Were they the people who Kurt had always heard about in the news? Committing murders, burning down buildings, threatening families? What was their cause?

"Why you?" Why would anyone want to hurt someone like his mother? What was wrong with her? Was she really-

She removed her blue bandana in response, offering her left wrist for her son to see. Kurt saw that it was blank, no name. She was a blank-wrister. It made sense, now. He should have realized before.

"They are so aptly named," his mother lowered her voice, putting her safeguard back on. Kurt's hair was standing on end. "The Purity Script Brotherhood. They are well-funded, secretive and in great numbers. Many of them are military trained, excellent trackers and know how to cover up their crimes without a trace."

Kurt felt something low in his gut clench in terrifying despair. "How did you evade them for so long?"

His mother suddenly looked very tired, but emotion touched her eyes. "Myself and a few others like me took care of each other. We are informally named the Spider Fellowship. I know it sounds silly, but it's what kept us alive."

She then rolled up her shirt and revealed a small runic looking spider tattooed to her hip, almost identical to the one his father has on his forearm. Kurt's breath caught in his chest, a million questions coming his way, but none of them escaping his mouth.

"My best friend was Ann," Kurt's mother continued softly, her voice rough with loss. "Ann Anderson."

Kurt's heart stopped, his eyes widening. "Mom-"

"Kurt my dear," his mother interrupted urgently. "I need you to give this to her son, I believe you know him."

She smiled knowingly before digging through her small satchel. Tears welled into Kurt's eyes, he was unable to stop them. This was all way too much to handle at once. His mother was not only appearing to him after all this time of him thinking she was dead, but now she was saying she knew Blaine's mother too - a woman who more than likely gave her son up too for fear of his safety.

Blaine, his soulmate. They have always been connected in other ways than just their wrists all this time.

Kurt felt like he was falling again. That was then his mother handed him a folded up letter with an unbroken seal, it looked weathered with age. Kurt's tears dripped onto it. He tried to reign in his quiet intakes of breath, but he was shaking now.

"Don't cry," she whispered, wiping away Kurt's tears, framing his face and looking deep into his eyes. "Don't cry my child, everything's going to be okay."

"It is?" It was all Kurt could manage, gripping the letter tight.

"Yes, I promise," his mother told him, holding him close. Kurt could die in her touch. "You just need to listen to me, do as I say-"

But before she could say more, his mother broke away into a horrifying scream, falling suddenly to the ground. Horror. Pain. Kurt went to her, whipping his head around, stone-cold fear chilling his blood. Were they here now? Were they going to die?

"Mom, mom!" Kurt grabbed her, desperately, looking for any wounds, currently uncaring of his own potential physical state. "Are you hurt?"

"My.. my wrist-"

She cried out again, her teeth grinding and hot tears spilling from her eyes. Kurt ripped her blue bandana away, smoothing his fingers over her blank wrist until-

Dark letters, black tinged with red started forming, searing themselves into her flesh by some unknown force. It began with a swooping B.

"Whats..h-happening.. to me-"

"I don't know!" Kurt's heart was pounding erratically, beating in his ears, making blood rush and pump to all parts of him to the point where he felt like he could do anything. He needed to help her, but what could he do?

"Hospital? Headquarters infirmary?"

His mother just shook her head, which was now red and sweating, pain lining every feature of her beautiful face. Kurt looked down again, and then she exhaled a breath of pure relief.

"It's stopped," she gasped, and grew limp in Kurt's arms.

He lifted her wrist close, disbelieving. There was a name there now, fresh and brand new. It was much akin to what Kurt remembered when his formations slowly came in until they were finished when he was a boy of 12.

But it wasn't just any name. It was - Burt Hummel.

"Oh my god."

"What is it?" Kurt's mother sounded weak, but she managed to lift her head to see. When she did, she stiffened. Kurt waited with baited breath.

With sudden strength she pulled herself up, gripping Kurt's own wrist tight, leftover pain of his self-affliction tingling out to his nerve-endings. Her eyes were wide and trusting.

"Kurt-"

"Go to him," Kurt interjected. "Go-"

So she did, and so did he.

The masquerade was tonight.

***

"Kurt, my son. Sometimes I envy you." Burt finally started speaking as if it was the beginning of an insightful speech. "In the face of all that you've been given, good and bad, still to this day you know how to surprise me."

The Ball was in full swing. There were gowns more stunning that Kurt had ever seen, hair styled so elegantly he almost felt like he didn't belong, despite how smart he dressed tonight.

Tonight was the night that changed everything. Kurt was decided. Kurt was on a mission.

"I'm going to tell you a secret, Kurt. I... I used to be like them, the commoners. I would have moved the earth and the sun to find my soulmate, trust me on that. But yours.. yours fell unknowingly into your lap."

There were tears again in his father's eyes.

"Did you ever find her?" Kurt couldn't help but ask, especially now after all was out on the table.

Burt gazed through Kurt, lost in his memories.

"Oh yes.. yes I did."

It was then Kurt saw him, Blaine, in a black and red mask, his hair gelled like it was the day they met. The suit he wore tailed him so perfectly that it broke Kurt's heart.

But then he remembered, his heart didn't have to be broken anymore. Never again.

"Who was she?" Kurt kept asking, his voice weak, fingers wandering to his bandaged wrist. This was the first time they ever really talked about her.

His father finally focused on his son in the present, his eyes still watery. "She was your mother, Kurt. A free spirit she was, more beautiful than anything else in the world. She couldn't love me because her wrist was blank."

The crowd was Kurt's obstacle. He had to get to Blaine, he had to. This was the defining moment.

And that's when their eyes met across the room, almost like they were meeting again for the first time.

There were so many things Kurt wanted to ask; why does a blank wrist mean she didn't love us? How did she die?

But Burt put a finger on his son's lips to quiet him, to calm him in such a fragile state.

"What I'm about to say is very important, Kurt, so please heed my words."

Kurt felt a crushing need to reach Blaine, to touch him, to be one with him. More incredible than any sensation he had ever experienced in his entire life. He could see that the desperation was mirrored.

He felt like a target now, pushing toward his goal. Cool air was brushing unfamiliarly against his now free wrist, tingling his healing wounds. Kurt's whole body ached to join with his one and only.

Kurt blinked, small tears soaking into his white-laced mask. He was the one in all white tonight.

They were closer now.

That boy.. Ben - Blaine, whoever he is, he still really doesn't know who you are by name, but yet he wants nothing more than to be with you. He loves you for you, don't you see? By trying to be with you he is rejecting the name. He isn't in love with a fantasy, Kurt. He's in love with you, son - you.

The two of them reached then, a mutual understanding between them, like two orbiting planets circling and coming home for the solstice.

Blaine bowed to his lover, reaching out to take Kurt's hand, offering to dance. Their eyes never left each other.

But instead of taking Blaine's hand, Kurt offered him something much more. He presented himself, left wrist up, placing it in Blaine's waiting hand. The name shone, clear as day, and Blaine feasted upon it, tears of pure joy clouding his eyes.

Think on it my son, heal. Give Blaine time to put together the pieces, it's only a matter of time. Then, when you are both ready, take that step together. That is what love is all about. A commitment to each other; a choice to have an eternity together."

"Hello Blaine Anderson," Kurt finally said, the music and all others drowning out and away until it was only them. "My name is Kurt Hummel."

Blaine shuddered, closing his eyes, tears dripping out of the corner of his eyes, clinging to his lashes. He bowed, pressing his lips to Kurt's wrist.

"It's nice to finally meet you," he said, and then he pulled Kurt in to close the distance between their waiting lips, lips that waited a lifetime.

They danced, lost it in all, lost in the beautiful reality of everything. They were connected, in emotion and physicality. Nothing would ever separate them, it was impossible now.

Kurt and Blaine faded into their futures when similarly across the room, another, a mystery woman offered Burt Hummel her own wrist, and he fell to his knees.

Together at last.