It wouldn't be till four days later that Blaine would see Kurt again, walking into town. He wore a hat on his head that was several sizes too large, pulled as low over his eyes as possible without it falling in his face altogether. His clothes were too big for him. They would have hung off if not for his belt, which had to have new holes drilled to cinch it tight, and then the end wrapped several times to keep it from flapping against his thigh. He walked with a limp, favoring his right knee, his foot turned out so he rolled on the instep and his heel. He looked like a clown Blaine had seen at a circus once when he was younger. That man wore a costume that was huge around the middle. He had a hat so large he could pull the brim down to his chin, and giant shoes that forced his toes out at angles, making him waddle when he walked.

Kurt, dressed in a similar get-up the way he was, might have been laughable, if Blaine didn't know why.

It looked as though Kurt was trying to walk with his back straight and his head high, but he was having difficulty. He kept his arms wrapped around his waist, hugging himself around the middle, which forced his shoulders to hunch. Blaine saw his ankle twist, saw Kurt hiss, and whistled between his teeth.

He hoped Kurt's asshole husband hadn't done any internal damage. A blow to the kidneys or the liver, or a too-hard blow to the stomach might not heal right. Blaine had seen a man in a drunken fistfight die after a blow to the stomach ruptured something inside. The man didn't know he'd been injured so bad, and drank plenty more before it hit him. It wasn't a pleasant death neither – slow and painful. A doctor'd been called, but he couldn't do nothing for him, and he couldn't give him anything for the pain.

It took him a while to die.

After Kurt didn't show that first night, Blaine figured he might not show again for a while. Blaine spent the three days since talking up Brittany about this stranger.

Except he wasn't a stranger no more. Not to Blaine's girls, and not to Blaine. His name was Kurt, and even though Blaine had yet to exchange a word with him, he felt like somewhat of an expert on him now.

Brittany's time spent away from the gambling hall floor made her regulars furious. They scowled up at the balcony, but stayed tightlipped about it. She was spending her evenings with Blaine, and not a one of them was willing to walk up to his balcony and make it an issue.

As for Brittany, she didn't mind losing out on a coin here and there to spend the evening talking about Kurt. Blaine made sure to fill her with hot fudge sundaes for her trouble, which truly made this time alone with Blaine a treat.

There had been an instant connection between her and Kurt. Something about him touched her, and she had become awful protective of him. It reminded Blaine of this big, ugly cat she'd adopted once. Horrid creature, hissed at everything, scratched and bit anyone who looked at the darn thing sideways, except for her. Many, many times, when it went on the prowl hunting for mice and got underfoot, or it took a swipe at him, Blaine was tempted to drown the thing while Brittany slept, but he couldn't do that to her.

Eventually, the half-crazed beast ran out into the street and got kicked by a horse. Brittany searched the saloon for it for days, even climbing into places that cat would not have had the ability or the gumption to get to. She cried over not being able to find the thing, and wondered if she did something to force it away. Tina, one of Blaine's other girls, had made a comment that maybe the thing had died, and that she was glad because it had torn up her ankle and ripped her best stockings. Poor Brittany was heart broke. Considering Brittany's history, the life she had before coming to Blaine's, he didn't have the heart to break the news. He told her that big old cats like that were notorious adventurers, and that it would come back to her one of these days, when it was done with its sightseeing.

Blaine's been keeping an eye out for a replacement disgusting creature ever since.

Brittany hadn't wanted to tell Blaine Kurt's story without Kurt's permission, but Blaine swore to her that he would do whatever he had in his power to protect the man, so she relented, recounting for her boss all she knew.

She told Blaine about David.

She told him about the repeated beatings and the rapes.

She told him about Kurt's stepbrother, Finn, and how he died during a suspicious cave-in.

She told him about Kurt's stepmother, his sister-in-law, her baby, and the threat Paul Karofsky had made to their lives.

She told him about Kurt's dreams of going to New York and being a designer, and how much he had loved sewing and making clothes before David had taken all his things.

She told him about Kurt's father, probably long dead by now, though Kurt didn't know for sure.

Every night, Brittany told Blaine a new story, like Scheherazade weaving her many tales. Blaine was amazed at how deeply Kurt had taken her into his confidence, and he felt a tad guilty for convincing her to break it the way he did. But the more Blaine learned, the more incensed he became. Blaine had known men who beat their spouses. Hell, he'd known women who beat their spouses, too. They'd get into an argument, and one would take a belt to the other. Blaine didn't approve of it, but it was the way of things out here. But in the case of Kurt and his husband, the deck was stacked uneven.

Kurt was a fighter. Blaine could tell by looking at him. The way he sat with his back ramrod straight. Kurt was strong. No man would have to hold another man's neck in a way that made the marks he saw on Kurt if Kurt wasn't a fighter. But according to Brittany's account of David's build (as described to her by Kurt), David Karofsky was massive – broad shouldered and muscular, even if he did have a gut from imbibing too much rye. The man was part-cowboy. He rode the trail. He moved herds. He stocked his father's store. He wasn't afeared of getting dirty and working with his hands.

Kurt, as strong as he was, could in no way be a match, not if most of his time had been spent playing the piano and sewing. That was simply a matter of nature.

Blaine hoped Kurt would return to The Canary Cage soon. The more Blaine held on to the knowledge of Kurt's situation, the more he thought on it, and the more he thought on it, the more he longed to change it. He had considered asking around, finding out where they lived, and riding out there to have a discussion with David, but Blaine didn't want to overstep his bounds.

He didn't want to break a confidence he hadn't been expressly given.

He didn't want to get Kurt into more trouble if Kurt, for some reason, decided not to leave his husband.

Blaine searched the crowd every night from his balcony, and stood guard outside his doors during the afternoon, hoping he'd see Kurt on his way through town.

But his mind itched to go and search Kurt down for himself.

Blaine wasn't a man who liked playing the waiting game.

So it was a lucky thing that he didn't have long to wait.

***

Kurt limped his way to town slowly, but shuffling more than he actually walked. From David's house to town was a fair stretch of the legs, a bit longer a walk than from his father's house to town back in Defiance. Kurt would have enjoyed it, if his twisted right knee and ankle didn't throb with every step. The ache in his leg was part of the reason why Kurt hadn't returned to The Canary Cage. David had come home in a foul temper. His trip to Hamilton hadn't gone off as well as expected. Kurt only caught a little of the happenings while an infuriated David held him down and punched him. When Kurt stopped struggling, David had his way, then left again for a couple of days. He didn't tell Kurt where he went this time around, but Kurt suspected he hadn't gone too far. He didn't want to chance getting caught sneaking out. But he also knew that he must look affright. That wouldn't bother him so much if it were only the girls looking at him…or Sebastian. But now, apparently, Blaine had found him out. He knew that he existed. Kitty and Sebastian tried to tell him that everything would be alright, that Blaine wouldn't make a scene or kick him out.

They'd even suggested that telling Blaine might help.

But Kurt couldn't. He couldn't tell this man about the atrocities his husband had inflicted on him. It wasn't right to burden the man that way. Kurt didn't even know him other than he dressed like a prince and owned the closest thing to heaven that Kurt had ever seen with his own two eyes.

Kurt was sure New York would take The Canary Cage's place in that capacity when he finally got there – if he ever got there. But for now, in Kurt's mind, it went (in ascending order) The Canary Cage, then heaven.

The Canary Cage might even be better because, at least, he could actually get into The Canary Cage.

Besides, admitting to Blaine Anderson that he had been beaten and raped by his own husband would be too shameful for Kurt to admit. He'd rather die than have to say those words to Blaine's face.

But after that night, after locking eyes with the man and having him see the proof of his husband's abuse writ over his face, Kurt didn't think he could walk through the doors of The Canary Cage ever again.

He wouldn't have even risked going into town today if it wasn't an absolute emergency.

Kurt figured Blaine would be easy to avoid. It was the middle of the afternoon, so he would either be asleep (which he seemed to do rarely) or up in his balcony. And if not, the crowds in the street at this hour should conceal him. Kurt didn't dress like anything special – not the way he did in Defiance. In ratty pants and an old shirt, a hat covering his head, he'd blend in with the other farmers and cowboys and ranchers, cluttering up the sidewalks and going about their business. There was no reason at all why Blaine should see him.

Here in Lima, Kurt was nothing special. In a sea of people, he'd simply disappear.

Kurt should have crossed the road before he made it to the saloon, but he was too busy thinking, and his feet kept walking, taking the same paths he did every time he came into town. But as he came closer, as the sound of laughing and talking and familiar voices hit his ears, he couldn't make himself turn away.

Kurt needed to see him. He needed to lay eyes on that beautiful man. And not just him. All of these people who had taken him in and made him one of their own. These girls, most of whom knew what it was like to be abused by a man, and Sebastian…sweet, kind, considerate Sebastian, who always found something nice about Kurt to remark on, like the sparkle in Kurt's eyes, or the brightness of his smile. Once he even complimented Kurt on the straightness of his teeth, which made Kurt chuckle – a sound that Sebastian said he'd been hoping for.

But Kurt knew that Sebastian was carrying on, trying to bring him up out of his slump.

Kurt had caught a glimpse of himself. He knew how he really looked.

It was something he normally avoided, but he hadn't been able to this time. He was polishing the copper pots when he saw his reflection in the shiny surface. He looked hideous. Broken. Far and away nothing like himself.

Except for his eyes, his reflection was foreign to him. He had become a different person – a punching bag for the one man he'd spent a lifetime trying to avoid.

Seeing the girls, seeing Sebastian, seeing Blaine, even for a moment, would make his day. It would be something to carry in his head and in his heart when he was forced beneath his husband at night.

Kurt had planned to just take a peek through the doors. He wouldn't even climb up the steps. He would stand on his tiptoes, see what he could see, and be on his way. No one would be the wiser.

Kurt never thought that someone would be standing outside the saloon, waiting for him.

***

Blaine saw Kurt before Kurt saw Blaine – caught sight of him with his head bowed, hustling down the street. He seemed to be indecisive about where he was going, taking a step to cross the street further down, then not, suddenly heading full steam toward the saloon, and then slowing up when he was almost at the steps. He stopped, peeked up, and that's when Kurt saw him. Blaine would have thought the way his eyes opened in surprised and his mouth formed a little ‘o' were the most adorable things he'd ever seen. But the new bruises, the new shiner, the brand new swell to his lower jaw overshadowed it all.

Kurt clamped his lips shut and turned away, racing across the street. Blaine leapt down the steps and took chase, keeping his eyes peeled for Kurt's back as he weeded through traffic, trying not to lose him.

“Hey, now!” Blaine called after him. Kurt's shoulders went rigid, and he walked a bit faster. “Hey, slow up! I only want to talk to you.”

Kurt didn't slow up. He didn't look over his shoulder. He didn't say Hey. Kurt could kick himself for ignoring Blaine. He definitely wanted an audience with this man, but he had to be careful out in broad daylight. Of all the times he'd come into the saloon, Blaine picked now to talk to him? What if someone saw? What if someone told David?

Kurt had to stop for a horse ambling by, which gave Blaine time to catch up to him.

“Hey!” Blaine said, smiling like no one's business. Kurt didn't look his way, but Blaine saw him in profile. From close up, the bruises looked worse, but Blaine didn't let that take the smile off his face. “You walk fast, ya know. Anywhere important you tryin' to get to?”

“Just the” – Kurt stopped to clear his throat. His voice sounded rough, raw from screaming – “just the store.” Kurt took a step, finding himself walking at an easy pace so Blaine might be encouraged to walk with him. “I'm in need of some brown sugar.”

“Ahh,” Blaine said, flashing Kurt a debonair smile, but not, Kurt noted, the one that he used on his customers, “do you have a sweet tooth? Because I have to admit, I have one.”

“Do you?” Kurt said, trying not to smile, but unable to stop as he thought of Blaine, sitting in his balcony, sucking on peppermint sticks or chewing on a rope of licorice.

“I do,” Blaine agreed. “In fact, I just got a whole pound bag of lemon drops at The Canary Cage, if you wanted to stop in for a handful.”

“That's very kind of you to offer,” Kurt said, trying his best to sound formal for anyone passing by who might decide to listen in. “Maybe some other time.”

“Oh, well, if you wanna have some, you best stop by quick,” Blaine insisted. “You see, Brittany has a bit of a sweet tooth, too. And no matter where I hide the candy, she always seems to find it. If she comes across it, there won't be none left for anyone.”

“Oh,” Kurt said, and his smile subconsciously grew, “far be it for me to deprive the poor girl. She's welcome to my share.”

Kurt saw a flicker of disappointment on Blaine's face, but he picked up his pace again. Talking to Blaine like this was not a good idea. Someone would definitely notice.

“Kurt.” Blaine hurried to keep up, but he didn't have to. The sound of his name coming from Blaine's lips stopped Kurt cold. “Kurt, don't run off. I can help you with your problem.”

Blaine's voice went low when he said it, sinister. Blaine put his hands on his hips, a flick of his jacket tails uncovering his Colt, and Kurt caught Blaine's meaning. But a woman passing by nodded and smiled to Blaine, her expression going blank when she saw Kurt, and Kurt became flustered.

“I…I'm not sure what problem you think I have,” Kurt said for the benefit of the next woman walking who lingered a step to listen.

Blaine looked at the woman who had caused the switch in Kurt, and frowned.

“Well, maybe I don't know,” Blaine said, keeping pace with Kurt when he started to walk again, “but from what I hear, you're much too fashion-minded a man to be sporting that particular accessory.”

Blaine made a motion toward Kurt's face.

From what he'd heard.

So it wasn't just the bruises that tipped him off. Brittany had told.

Kurt should be furious with her. She'd promised him, sworn on her favorite satin gown and something she called Lord Tubbington that she wouldn't. But he was sort of relieved that he didn't have to tell Blaine for himself.

“I apologize if you got the impression that the state of my accessories concerns you,” Kurt said in a clipped voice as they approached the mercantile steps. Kurt was almost in the clear. He'd be inside Sylvester's Sundries and safe from this conversation, even if that meant away from Blaine. He'd never seen Blaine go into the mercantile before. His girls, yes, and Sebastian a time or two, but not him. But Blaine hurried ahead to get in front of Kurt and block his way.

“It does,” Blaine said with a serious expression.

Kurt was frustrated. This conversation, out in the open, with Blaine Anderson of all people, had gone on too long. Kurt had gone beyond ill-advised and was testing fate at this point. But Blaine's sudden concern startled him. Kurt didn't know all that Brittany had told Blaine, but she just about knew everything. Kurt couldn't help telling her. It was odd. He hadn't intended to, but she was so attentive, so understanding. Once he'd started, that was it. It all came out.

He'd thought it might not be important enough for her to remember, but Kurt had underestimated her.

Apparently, her memory was long.

“And pray tell,” Kurt said. “Why does it?”

Blaine shrugged.

“Maybe ‘cus Brittany's so darned fond of you,” Blaine said. “Maybe ‘cus you're too handsome to have your face battered up. Or maybe ‘cus it just ain't right, Kurt. You're a human being, and you don't deserve to be treated this way.”

Kurt's heart stopped in his chest.

Did he just call me handsome?

A man rushing by to get to Sue's gave them a sideward glance that brought Kurt back to the present – a present where Blaine shouldn't be calling Kurt handsome. Where Blaine shouldn't even be talking to him.

Kurt tried to walk on by, but Blaine stayed in front of him, matching him step for step. Kurt sighed. Blaine said he was concerned for Kurt's safety, but he didn't seem to realize the damage he was doing right now.

“I don't know how you can help me,” Kurt said quietly.

“Well, why don't you come back with me to The Canary Cage?” Blaine suggested. “And we can discuss it?”

“I…” Kurt's stomach dropped. He took a step back since Blaine wouldn't let him go forward. “I can't.”

Blaine sensed Kurt's discomfort. He looked around and saw the eyes watching them, the heads inclined together, whispering, and Blaine figured out why.

“Why don't you and I take a turn around the block then?” Blaine asked. “Talk out of earshot?”

Kurt's eyes shifted left and right, and he shook his head a tiny bit.

“Alright,” Blaine said. “Simple and quick then. I got some men on my payroll that can talk some sense into your husband.”

Kurt's eyes immediately drifted down to the Colt on Blaine's hip. Kurt couldn't deny that he had thought of that, gathering some coin up and hiring a gunman to help him out. But when Paul heard, he'd know it was Kurt behind it. Then Carole and Rachel and the baby would pay.

Still, it was something. What if they could make it look like an accident? What if Paul couldn't trace it back to Kurt? Kurt knew it was crazy, but there was no harm in asking the terms and conditions.

“And how would I be expected to repay this gesture?” Kurt asked. “If I were to agree?”

“You'd come work for me,” Blaine said.

Kurt rolled his eyes.

“Well, you've got yourself a competent bartender,” Kurt said. “And I can't do what your girls do.”

“Not like that,” Blaine laughed. “I need a singer. And let's face it, I need a better piano player. The guy I have now is just…”

“Awful?” Kurt finished, and Blaine threw his head back this time when he laughed.

“You've noticed,” Blaine said.

“I think everyone from here to Columbus has noticed,” Kurt said, earning another laugh.

Kurt realized he could listen to that laugh all day. He wanted to.

“I'm afraid he might actually be scaring away business,” Blaine commented. “So I need to replace him quick. I mean, I can't just not have a piano player. My customers like to dance with my girls. And they need music for…uh…other things.”

Blaine's smile turned smug when color rushed to Kurt's cheeks. He hadn't meant to flirt with the man, but it felt kind of nice talking to him like this. He could probably stand out on this street and talk to Kurt till doomsday. That wasn't something easy to find in a person, for Blaine in particular, who had no patience for other people's opinions or their words.

“I'd be willing to pay you for both,” Blaine went on.

“That's very generous,” Kurt said, his mouth turning down at the corners. Blaine could tell he'd considered it, but he felt he had to turn him down. “But I don't think my husband…”

“You don't understand,” Blaine said, inching a bit closer than he should. “It's a live-in position, Kurt. Room and board.” Kurt's eyes met his. “If you work for me, you'd have to leave your husband.”

Kurt swallowed hard. Here it was. He had an out. A person willing to help him. The urge to say yes and follow Blaine to The Canary Cage was hard to resist. It was an offer he'd be stupid to refuse. But for the sake of his stepmother and his sister-in-law, he had to.

“I…I can't,” Kurt said, his voice breaking. “I gave myself to David to keep my family safe. If I leave him, his father will go after them. I can't risk it.”

“Kurt,” Blaine said, “I can help them, too.”

Kurt's breath hitched. It seemed too incredible to believe, so Kurt wouldn't let himself. He didn't know Blaine. Could he really trust him, with so much at stake? Kurt didn't want to question his honor. He didn't want to be rude when Blaine, by all outward appearances, had been nothing but sincere.

“Why are you so all fired up willing to help me?” Kurt asked.

Blaine's smug smile tried to make a comeback, but he knew that Kurt was getting ready to leave him.

“I kinda got a soft spot for hard luck cases.”

Kurt sighed.

So close. He was so close. He could say yes and be rid of David, but it seemed too good to be true. His father used to say that if something seems too good to be true, it probably is.

Kurt couldn't agree, but he had a feeling that Blaine wasn't about to let the matter go unless he said yes.

Kurt had no choice. He'd go home and come back to the store another time.

“Good-bye, Blaine,” Kurt said.

Before he took a step, Blaine put a hand on his arm.

“He's gonna kill you, Kurt,” Blaine implored. “You know it, and I know it. It's just a matter of time.”

Kurt looked down at the hand on his arm. It was warm, comforting. It was what he wanted, and for a moment, Kurt gave himself permission to imagine that it was his.

Just another thing to add to the escape.

Kurt looked into Blaine's pleading face and smiled.

“It's okay, Blaine,” Kurt said. “Really. He won't hurt me more than I can handle.” Blaine gasped, and Kurt felt himself choke on the next words that popped to his mind. “And so what if he does? I'm nothing here.”

Kurt gently wrenched his arm free of Blaine's grasp and walked up the mercantile stairs, leaving Blaine, The Canary Cage, and his chance at freedom behind.

It took more strength than Kurt ever knew he possessed to open the front door.