Kurt woke up really early so he could get started as soon as possible, jogging down the stairs to discuss with Carol of how they should go about getting a lawyer and setting up a case.

Blaine stayed in bed, staring at the wall. He couldn’t bring himself to join Kurt in talking about Mikey and court conduct like it was a business transaction. He just couldn’t. Mikey wasn’t property to be fought over in a courtroom. He was his blessed, beautiful baby boy that Blaine would absolutely die if got taken away by fucking Sebastian. So Blaine wallowed in sadness the entire day, not even moving from his spot, he was sure he made an indent in the mattress.

There were papers and scribbles and pencils and phone books scattered all across the kitchen table, but no such luck. No clear answers. Kurt was so frustrated he dug the heel of his palm into his eyeball, groaning in displeasure and trying his best not to panic. He couldn’t give up hope now. He couldn’t let Blaine down. Finn was already fed up, he had to go lift weights in his room for a while, too stressed out to deal.

“It’s okay honey-” Carol began but Kurt exploded.

“No it’s not okay!” Kurt screamed, pounding his fists against the table. “I don’t know how I’ll live with myself if we lose this thing! We can’t let Sebastian win.”

Carol’s arm hesitated over Kurt’s, attempting to comfort but she thought against it, at least for now. “Kurt freaking out isn’t going to help-”

“You don’t think I know that?!” Kurt snapped. “But we’ve got nothing, and Blaine’s upstairs worried sick and completely broken! It will be all my fault if he doesn’t get reunited with Mikey and then.. and then, he’ll hate me!”

Kurt started breaking down into sobs, collapsing against the table, but Carol wrapped him up in her arms, shushing him and stroking his hair.

“Kurt,” she whispers soothingly. “Blaine would never hate you. I’ve never seen a boy more in love, and the judge will see that if anything. Even if Sebastian is conniving and witty, there is no way that he’ll take full custody of the child.”

“How can you be so optimistic,” Kurt mumbled miserably, sniffing into her t-shirt and holding her tightly like a lifeline. “You saw him yesterday.” It was the most horrible thing I’ve never seen in my life.

“I did,” she acknowledged solemnly. “But sometimes things have a way of working themselves out.”

Kurt pulled away from Carol and squinted at her like he could barely recognize her, a fresh wave of indignation and hopelessness washing over him. “How could you say that?”

“What do you mean-” Carol was cut off once again, a chill tingling in her spine at the sight of Kurt’s burning grey eyes.

“How could you say things work out when every time something good happens, something even worse happens in turn!” Kurt grits his teeth as angry hot tears burned his eyes. “Life is so fucking unfair to say the least.”

“It is,” Carol agreed in a quiet voice, folding her hands onto the table as a gesture to remain calm. “But we have to deal with what we’ve got.”

Kurt stood up from the table, the chair skidding away from him loudly. “That’s fucking bullshit! You fall in love with a man, and he dies. And again. You were widowed twice and both your sons lost a father! How could you possibly think that symbolizes things working out? Please correct me if I’m delusional.”

“Kurt,” Carol said quietly, blinking away modest tears. “I know things have always been tough-”

“That’s an understatement,” Kurt interjects once again.

Carol purses her lips. “Quit interrupting me young man and listen to your step mother for just one second. Sit down.”

Carol’s sudden whiplash tone makes Kurt flinch because it was so unexpected. He had never in his life heard Carol talk that way, and he never wanted to hear it again, so he did as told.

Once he took his seat gingerly, Carol took both his hands and wrapped them warmly in hers. “Kurt, I know you might not believe me when I say I believe in happy endings.”

Kurt didn’t say anything, just waited for her to continue, his throat tight and painful.

“Despite whatever happens in life, good always comes from it,” she insists in a reverent tone. “I really believe that Blaine is your soulmate, and if your father hadn’t died, yes maybe you would’ve been less closed off, but I don’t think you would have ever fallen for Blaine in the right way.”

“I don’t understand,” Kurt mutters quietly, holding her gaze steadily.
“What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger,” Carol said in a decisive tone. “When struck with tragedy at such a young age you learned much faster and are quicker on your feet. I know that sounds bad, but there’s nothing we could’ve done about it. I don’t wish any sort of ill fate upon anybody, especially you, but Kurt despite the fact that I only got to spend a short amount of time with the man I love, I did gain a wonderful new son in the process, and I wouldn’t have changed that for the world.”

Kurt bites his tongue, emotion overtaking him as even more tears flood his eyes, trying not to make a sound, but he squeezes her hand back to show how much this means to him. “So are you saying things happen for a reason.”

“Not necessarily,” Carol corrects, looking thoughtful. “This is just our only chance at life. We need to make the most of it, even if we’re given a load of crap it’s better than nothing, and we should never take that for granted. You can’t waste your life away Kurt because you’d regret it once you were old.”

Carol pauses, taking a deep shuddering breath before, “I wake up every day thankful I’m alive and well and have people in my life that I love and that love me back. It’s that simple.”

And just like that, Kurt wasn’t sure how but the floodgates flew open and suddenly he could see.

Possibilities seemed endless. Anything seemed possible. Kurt’s revelation was so intense that the air disappeared from his lungs and his mouth fell open in a choked off gasp, unable to contain the mountain-load of emotions slamming into him.

What has he been doing all his life? Sure, he’s always chased his dreams with determination, but he always let little things get in the way. His irrational fear of love and ridicule. Karofsky was just a bully, and Kurt was better than him. He was better than all of that, and he owed himself the best life he could acquire in his short time on this earth.

“Thank you Carol,” Kurt finally breathes, pulling her into a tight hug and he hears her sob quietly of happiness. He clings to her more desperately, wanting to prolong the moment and display his gratitude as best he could. She saw the change in Kurt’s eyes. This was the moment she was waiting for, and it had finally come. She could have sang on the rooftop telling the whole world if she wanted because she was so blissfully happy. Her stepson finally understood everything.

“I love you Kurt,” she whispers as he pulls away, her thumb dragging softly over his cheekbone. “I’ll always be here for you no matter what okay?”

Kurt reaches out to squeeze her arm about to return the loving words when a lightbulb pops into his brain. Of course.

“Carol,” Kurt prompts excitedly. “Do you remember Quinn Fabray?”

“Oh of course,” she exclaims, eyes hazing over slightly in her brief memory of the blond-haired troubled youth. “Why do you ask dear, seems a little off the point-”

“She’s a lawyer now isn’t she,” Kurt bursts with excitement, eyes shining with possibility.

Yes he definitely understood.

---

Kurt joined Blaine again many hours later, but once he noticed Blaine was asleep in the fetal position, Kurt tiptoed, curling himself around Blaine as quietly and carefully as possible. Kurt knew he could sleep soundly tonight knowing that finally things were on track, and the possibility of actually winning was on the horizon. Blaine would have his son back soon enough. Kurt hoped and prayed for that more than anything else in his life.

However, once Kurt settled and sighed deeply through his nose, Blaine stirred, croaking, “Kurt?”

“Hi baby,” Kurt whispered, kissing his ear. “Go back to sleep.”

Blaine hummed. “I’m glad you came back to me.”

“I was worried about you,” Kurt murmured, stroking Blaine’s back and kneading slightly.

“I’m worried about Mikey,” Blaine admits in a clipped tone, his bottom lip twitching. “What if I’ll never see him again, Kurt? Sebastian wouldn’t even answer his phone earlier to let me talk to my son. I called like 18 times.”

Kurt picked up on Blaine’s wavering tone so he hugged him tighter, wrapping his arms securely around Blaine’s waist and hooking his chin over Blaine’s shoulder. “That’s not going to happen, Carol and I were busy today.”

“Yeah?” Blaine asked in a quiet voice, sounding slightly hopeful at what Kurt was implying.

“Mmhmm,” Kurt replies. “We got a lawyer and everything. I promise everything will be okay. We have a plan.”

“But the trial is in three weeks-”

“It’s plenty of time,” Kurt insists. “I promise you, Blaine. Just hang tight for me. Hang tight for him.”

---

As Sebastian’s lawyer sat down with a smug look on his face, complete with his statement, Blaine knew it was over.

Blaine slumped in his chair as the jury mumbled amongst themselves, looking accusingly at Blaine, for only moments ago he was accused of kidnapping of perjury. He didn’t want to be stared at anymore. He didn’t want people to see he was the broken man who was, it was only a matter of time, going to break down in heartbroken sobs in front of them. Not even Kurt’s soft nudges from behind him and strokes of comfort helped. Nothing would once he lost his son.

Blaine felt a tingle in his spine like he was being glared at, so he peeked through his fingers covering his face in defeat. It was Sebastian. Of course. The fucking asshole had the nerve. After he had tortured emotionally and physically abused Blaine, he still had to nerve to look proud of himself. Proud to take Blaine’s sanity and child away from him forever.�

“Your honor,” a disgruntled, out-of-breath voice rang through the courtroom suddenly as the heavy oak door slammed open, revealing a short bespectacled redhead boy no older than 17 brandishing a single piece of paper above his head. “I have new evidence for the defendant’s case!”

“Objection!” Sebastian’s seedy lawyer snipped, but the judge put a hand up. “Granted,” the old judge allowed, as the flushed faced boy handed the paper quickly to Quinn and sat down next to Kurt, giving Blaine the thumbs up. Blaine quirked an eyebrow at him before Quinn prodded his shoulder, whispering his name urgently.

“Look,” she murmured. “Sebastian’s psych evaluation.”

A small beacon of hope rose in Blaine’s chest. “So.. what’s it say?”

Quinn couldn’t help but the huge smile break across her face. She really thought she was going to lose this one and let Kurt and Blaine down. But this was good. This meant compromise.

“He’s bipolar.”

“Shocker,” Kurt grumbled from behind Blaine, who had leaned forward with interest. “How will it help?”

“He’s not in right mind and needs medication,” Quinn blurt out in a hurried, hushed tone. “It means he’s not fit for parenting.”

“R-really,” Blaine nearly choked hardly believing his ears. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Quinn nodded frantically looking like she was about to break out into triumphant song. “You passed with flying colors of course. Blaine, this is good! Wonderful even!”

“Care to share with the rest of us,” the judge asked tiredly, rubbing the bridge of his nose under his lifted glasses. He was so sick of these domestic despite/custody cases. Why couldn’t young couples just get along?

Quinn strode confidently up to the judge to let him evaluate the sheet. He nodded once, handing the results back to her as she faced the courtroom with confidence.

She stared down Sebastian’s lawyer, handing him the paper so he could see for himself. “It appears your client cannot have full custody of the child for he isn’t in a stable mental condition for parenting.”

“What?!” his lawyer snapped, his thin hair looking like it was about to curl, clutching the paper until it crumpled. Sebastian turned white while the judge leaned forward interestedly along with the jury.

“According to the state of Ohio psychiatric, Sebastian Smythe is clinically bipolar and needs treatment by means of medication and monitoring,” Quinn informed in a professional, resounding voice that echoed purposefully around the room.

The whole courtroom burst into excited gossip-filled whispers but the judge commanded, “Order!” by slamming his gavel against the podium. “Jury, what say you?”

The members of the jury glanced at each other, to a puppy-eyed Blaine before a woman in her mid-to-late 40’s stood up and droned, “We find the defendant not guilty, and should be cleared of all charges.”

Blaine pressed his hand to his mouth, trying to contain his overwhelming joy, but it wasn’t official yet. He needed to hear it again before it could be registered as real in his mind. It was just too good to be true, right?

The judge cleared his throat importantly. “The defendant, Blaine Anderson is cleared of all charges. Until further notice, the defendant has full custody of the child, Michael Ryan Anderson-Smythe. Once Mr. Sebastian Smythe is deemed fit and of sane mind by the state of Ohio, by the discretion of the defendant and a medical or legal professional, scheduled visits with the child will or can be made. For now, court is adjourned.”

The courtroom burst with noise with shuffling bodies, shouts of exclamation or rage before the judge disappeared behind a back door. Blaine sat there staring, barely even registering the claps of congratulations on his shoulder from his loved ones and supporters.

He couldn’t believe it. It was over. He was going to have his son back. They were both safe. And now he had Kurt. They could all finally be together. Finally.

Kurt. Kurt’s beautiful face crowded his vision as he was swept up into a loving embrace, tears leaking out of Kurt’s gorgeous eyes as he pulled back and kissed Blaine all over his face. “I’m so proud of you. We did it.”

“I love you so much Kurt,” Blaine sobbed, cupping Kurt’s face and kissing him again desperately. “Thank you so much.” Blaine turned to Quinn, who hugged them both briefly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she says genuinely, packing up her things. “Until next time.”

Blaine glanced over Kurt’s shoulder and saw the bailiff pull open the back door behind the stand. The social worker woman that Blaine recognized as being the one who took his son away from him those many weeks ago shuffled through, her hand clasped with a much shorter figure with bright blue eyes and shining gold hair. Mikey.

“Daddy!” he exclaims once his eyes fall upon Blaine, pulling his hand from the social worker and started running toward him. Blaine falls to his knees and opens his arms to catch his son, and starts to openly weep once he was finally in the circle of his arms.

“Oh, Mikey, my son,” Blaine wails, kissing his son’s hair and holding him like he was never going to let go, because he pretty sure he wasn’t going to.

Kurt watched the two with amazement, tears spilling over his cheeks and heart swelling more than he ever thought possible. This was the most beautiful reunion he had ever seen in his life, and Mikey, despite his young age glanced at Kurt knowingly, like he knew that Kurt was the one that made this possible. He made everything possible for his Daddy. For him. For Kurt himself, even.

Things were right as they should be.