“Here's the spot,” Blaine said with a grand sweep of his arms. Kurt dismounted his roan gelding and started to help Beth off her own small pony.

“Oh, Blaine. It is glorious!” Kurt swung Beth around in his arms as he took in the entire vista of the meadow. They stood in a patch of green grass and wildflowers flanked by an enormous outcropping of trees. Beyond where they could see but were able to hear was a cliff with a water fall that Blaine promised to show them after lunch.

“My brother and I used to play here as children,” Blaine said. “We spent long afternoons riding our horses and pretending to joust. Knocked me on my rear more than my fair share, I daresay.”

“I can imagine,” Kurt said. “I just wish the weather were more fair.” He stopped his spinning to stare at the ropes of fog closing in around them – not incredibly thick, but enough to block the reach of the sun's warmth. Beth wiggled free of Kurt's grasp for only a moment before he grabbed her by the shoulders, spun her around to face him, and scooped her up into his arms. He planted a kiss on her forehead before setting her back down and patting her on her backside. She giggled, stuck her tongue out at him, and ran off. Kurt watched as Beth found a patch of sunlight and stood in its golden glow, spinning with her arms outstretched.

Blaine watched his husband, feeling the warmth of Kurt's smile flow throughout his entire body. He reached for Kurt's hand and drew him into the circle of his arms.

“Worry not about the weather,” Blaine whispered into the tidy sweep of Kurt's chestnut hair, “for you are fair enough for all.”

Kurt's cheeks flushed with color but he laughed as he pressed his lips to Blaine's in a quick but loving kiss.

“Oh, you are quite charming,” Kurt said with a smile.

Blaine could not believe how much his love for Kurt had blossomed, even more so now that Beth had become their own. Blaine knew that this wasn't the way Kurt had pictured adopting a child, but it had worked out perfectly for them. Kurt had excelled where Blaine, left on his own, would have floundered. Blaine couldn't have asked for a better guardian for Beth.

No, it was more than that. The two of them – man and child - were soul mates.

Blaine watched Kurt unpack the picnic lunch they had brought. He could hear Beth's giggles in the distance, wreaking havoc of one kind or another in the meadow. He felt blessed, contented. He now knew what it was like to have a family to call his own.

He also knew he would fight to the death to keep it.

Blaine struggled with his prosthetic to sit on the blanket Kurt had painstakingly smoothed onto the grass, but after a few attempts at awkwardly manipulating the false limb, he dropped down in a rather undignified manner, which Kurt was polite enough to ignore. Kurt was setting out plates when the neighing of his gelding, Rolly (a name shared by Kurt's favorite cat growing up), caught his attention. He looked up and around, but could see Beth nowhere.

“Beth? Love?” he called. “Come for supper, please.” 

Beth's giggling sang in the air, but she was nowhere to be seen. Blaine saw the worry in Kurt's eyes. He could not help but feel a bit uneasy himself, but he forced himself to push those worries aside. Here they were, nestled in the private sanctuary he had always known, safe and sound on his estate. Nothing could possibly touch them.

“I'll go fetch her,” Blaine offered, struggling to his feet. The dampness in the air had caused his muscles to stiffen, and the ones that supported the weight of his false limb were protesting more than usual.

“No,” Kurt said, resting an arm on Blaine's shoulder to stay him. Kurt leapt quickly to his feet. “I'll go. You rest. I know your muscles are not quite themselves today. Besides, I am going to water Rolly.”

Kurt gathered up the reins of his horse and started after the girl, with Blaine watching as Kurt walked off into the fog. When Kurt was lost to the mist and completely out of Blaine's sight, Blaine's uneasiness grew. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prick up in alarm. He realized that even though his husband and daughter were a fair distance away that he was not alone. Blaine moved to gain his feet, hoping not to attract too much attention as he did so.

Suddenly, they were upon him. From out of the surrounding thicket came two men - dirty and gruesome, with eyes of murder and crooked, evil grins. They came at him, locking his arms in the iron grip of their oversized, grimy hands. Blaine looked up, eyes wide with rage and fear. The larger of the two men felled him with a blow to the midsection that drained all the air from his lungs. Another followed, causing him to collapse to the ground. Gasping for breath on the grass and devoid of breath, his mind swam, shifting between thoughts that were clear, and then unfocused, until he came to a horrifying conclusion.

This wasn't a random attack. These men weren't common thieves come to steal his purse. Few knew that Blaine had decided to return to the estate early to hide his husband and daughter. These men did not act alone, and as Blaine was left to writhe in the grass, he was not their primary target. Blaine looked up as a hooded stranger bound full tilt on Blaine's own stallion into the woods after his family. 

With every last inch of will left in his body, Blaine yelled at the top of his lungs, “Kurt! Run! Take Beth and run NOW!”

Kurt could not see the melee. He only heard the whinnying of a horse, and the sound of someone getting a thorough pummeling. He gasped as he realized who must be on the receiving end of that beating, doled out far from the reach of his gaze. He heard his husband utter a low groan, and even before he heard his command, he had hoisted Beth onto his horse and was mounting behind her.

“Kurt! Run!” Blaine bellowed. “Take Beth and run... NOW!”

Kurt kicked poor Rolly mercilessly in the ribs. He swore he would make it up to him with an extra bucket of oats as soon as they returned to the stables...provided they did return. Kurt dashed the thought immediately from his mind. He wrapped a protective arm around Beth, her raven ringlets flying free to taunt his nose. He planted a kiss squarely atop her head, and with it uttered a small prayer. Tears broke from his eyes. He knew not the fate of his husband, but his groans followed them as they reached the safety of the wood. As his moans of pain faded into the distance, Kurt heard hooves – not Rolly's, but the rhythmic beating of another set of hooves into the soft earth.

The sound was coming from ahead of him.

Kurt yanked hard on the reins. Rolly reared up on his hind legs as their dark pursuer emerged from the trees, a black wool cloak shrouding his features, a sword in his hand. 

Kurt spun the horse around, not able to tell where they were heading, but eager to be well away from the dark phantom that had now crossed his path. He urged the horse onward, not knowing how he would evade the menace close at their heels, but even with the two riders on his back, the roan gelding shot through the forest like a jackrabbit. 

Kurt was in a state of panic. The horse raced on expertly, but still relied on Kurt's command. Blinded by the fog and in an unfamiliar area, Kurt knew not where the horse was taking him. He heard hoof beats pounding close behind him, but the dark rider never tried to overtake him. Kurt turned around several times to get a glimpse of his pursuer. As far away as he was, Kurt could not make out the man's face, but he stayed close behind. Kurt felt the ground rise and heard the rush of water as it plummeted off the edge of a cliff. Then he knew with horrible certainty what the rider had planned. He intended to force them to the cliff, cutting off their escape.

Kurt grabbed the reins and tugged, halting the horse in enough time to hear the crumble of a ledge as it gave way to pebbles, spilling down to the rocks below. Kurt watched them fall, momentarily forgetting their attacker, who was drawing up close behind.

Before Kurt could issue another order to his beloved horse, the animal squealed in pain. The horse bucked up as if he meant to toss Kurt and Beth from his back, and then lurched forward off the cliff. Kurt clung to Beth, his mind racing, trying to figure out what to do. Rolly landed on the steep incline, his legs buckling, nearly losing both passengers. Together the three slid down the hill. Rocks flew up and battered Kurt's face. He threw up an arm to shield his eyes.

“Beth! Beth!” he screamed, but Kurt could hear nothing else over Rolly's baneful cries. 

Kurt weighed their options. Desperate for self-preservation and realizing in defeat that there was no hope for his friend, he made a plan to leap from the doomed creature's back. He grabbed Beth tightly around the waist, tugging to release her from her seat on the horse, but his pulls met with resistance. One of Beth's leather boots had caught between the straps of the bridle and the horse's neck. Kurt worked at the laces with trembling fingers, finally slipping the boot from Beth's foot. Without another thought, he leapt from the saddle with all his strength, praying that Beth's long skirts and petticoat did not get caught and drag them to their death along with the brave horse. 

Kurt and Beth flew through the air. For what seemed an eternity they hovered in the mist while parts of the cliff crumbled beneath them. All too quickly the two fell back to earth. Kurt landed on his back with Beth sprawled on top of him. He swiftly rolled to his side, forming himself tightly into a ball with Beth shielded against him. Kurt felt rocks pummel him as the cliff continued to deteriorate around them. Then, as suddenly as the escapade had started, the falling rocks ceased, and everything went quiet. 

Kurt carefully lifted his head and looked around him. A grey cloud of dust settled, and he coughed as the fine sediment assailed his throat and eyes. Kurt blinked to relieve the stinging, and when he did, the surrounding hillside became clear, as did the body of his horse. Kurt commanded Beth to stay hidden as he approached his beloved horse. Tears started in Kurt's eyes as he examined the animal's wounds. The skin on his belly was scraped terribly, a trail of blood leading back the full way up the cliff. Kurt ran a hand down the velvety skin of his muzzle, his eyes shut closed in a look of peaceful repose. Kurt closed his eyes and ran a hand down the gelding's back, his palm ending on a gash in the horse's flank. His eyes opened wide, astounded by the deep wound spilling blood. The reason for their tumble down the side of the cliff became blaringly clear. Their dark rider had driven his sword into the poor gelding's flesh, causing him to leap over the edge. 

That same man was most likely still on the hillside, trying to find them.

Kurt collected Beth in his arms. The girl hid her face in her hands and shook like a leaf, biting her lip to quiet her fearful sobs. Kurt shushed her gently and held her close, pressing their bodies as close to the cliff face as possible, hoping to wait out their attacker. Kurt heard the approach of another horse above them. He stroked Beth's hair and kissed her on the crown of her head, listening carefully.

The oncoming horse stopped at the cliff's edge, sending a spray of dirt and pebbles down Kurt and Beth's way. Beth startled at the sound, and Kurt held her tighter. He didn't want to frighten the child, but a single sniffle could mean the difference between life and death.

“You arse!” Kurt heard Puck's voice hiss. “You could ‘ave killed ‘em both! If you need to take yer revenge, fine, but do it when my daughter's not in tha way!”

“I don't give a shit about your brat!” a gruff voice scolded. “Lord Anderson loves her, too, and I mean to deprive him of everything he loves!”

Kurt heard Puck dismount his horse, and the telltale singing of metal when a sword unsheathes.

“I ‘ired you to ‘elp me get my daughter back, not to kill ‘er!” Puck growled.

“Yeah, well, the plan has changed,” that gruff voice – a voice that filled Kurt with odd feelings of déjà vu – answered.

Kurt heard the clang of metal meeting metal again and again, but then the crack of a firearm split the air. Puck groaned, long and low, his moan of pain turning guttural and raspy.

Kurt hid Beth's face quickly and just in time as Puck's body fell over the edge.

The last thing Kurt saw of the scoundrel as he flew past them were his wide, stunned eyes, which fell on the two runaways huddled together in each other's arms before their hazel depths went lifeless.

Kurt waited, his breath held, his entire body on alert. He heard the footsteps of the killer above them. His heart stopped when more pebbles rolled down their way. Kurt bit his tongue nearly in two when all he wanted to do was scream for Blaine – Blaine, who might be dead in the grass back at their picnic, their last vestige of safety a myth if this murderer could still find them here.

Kurt was on the brink of doing something desperate when he heard the man yell a harsh, “H'yah!” and heard the sound of horse's hooves race away.

Kurt waited only long enough for the sound to dwindle into echoes before he gathered Beth into his arms and started to run down the hill. He ran blindly, but sure that he was headed away from the dark rider. Pebbles slipped from beneath his feet, and he almost lost his footing on the steep hill. Small bits of twigs and brush jutted up from the dusty earth, trying to entangle his legs. Faster and faster he raced, trying not to trip and dive headlong down the embankment. 

He didn't know where he was going. He didn't know if he was running away from one threat just to collide headfirst with another. The rushing water, the rising clouds of dirt, the stinging from dust in his eyes, all muddied his senses. He felt panic rise within him as he realized he wouldn't sense danger even if it was within four feet of him.

But no matter what, he had to keep Beth safe.

A hard grip on his shoulder halted him in his precarious tracks and spun him around. Kurt blinked to get a good look at his pursuer, but something unforgiving impacted with his jaw, almost knocking him to the ground and jostling Beth loose from his arms. A fabulous burst of pain shot through his jaw into his brain, sending sparks of white light into his eyes, obscuring his vision. His attacker gave Kurt's arm a hard tug that almost sent him and Beth sprawling back down the hill. Kurt's vision cleared. He stumbled a few paces, and when he came to a halt, he found himself staring over the edge of a ledge. To Kurt's immediate right he could see the end of a meandering river rushing to meet the falls that cascaded over the rocks. At the foot of the hill he saw (to his relief) his husband, limping and badly beaten, being drug about by two burly men. They lifted Blaine's drooping head by a fistful of his hair to look up at Kurt. Blaine's swollen, bleary eyes widened immediately when he saw Kurt hugging Beth tightly to his chest, a thin stream of blood issuing from his lip where he had been punched, Kurt's suit and Beth's dress torn beyond repair.

Kurt felt a hand wrap firmly around his neck. He suppressed a tiny gasp, trying not to give in to the immense terror rising to cripple him. He had to stay strong for those he loved. He stood with his head high, his arms trembling as much from anger as from fear.

Beth clung to Kurt's coat, her sobs drowned out by the thick material.

Kurt still hadn't seen his attacker, but Blaine had, and his own facial expression was an incomprehensible mask of horror and confusion. Blaine's split lips worked around words that Kurt couldn't hear, but then Blaine shook the brute's hand from his hair and roared into the air.

“Matthew!”

“Blaine,” Matthew called smugly over Kurt's shoulder to the men below. “My immense lordship.”  Matthew bobbed a mocking bow. “It seems that you are at quite the impasse.”

“What do you want, Matthew?” Blaine's weak, broken growl barely reached them over the sound of the water.

“What do I want?” Matthew laughed. “What do you have to give me, brother?”

Blaine tried to stand, but the brigands on both sides kept him heeled.

“I don't understand,” Blaine returned, his brow furrowed. “How dare you call me brother? I had a brother.” Blaine's eyes narrowed as he tried to put pieces of this confounding puzzle together in a mind that refused to work right, knocked senseless by several blows to the head. “I thought it was Puck who had killed him, but I suspect it was your hand that did it.”

“Noah never had the guts to spill blood,” Matthew laughed, tightening his hold on Kurt's neck, “unless he was beating up little girls who couldn't fight back.” Matthew shook Kurt and Beth whimpered, but Kurt held her fast, his arms locked, unwilling to let her go. “No, he didn't have the balls to kill our brother.”

“Stop calling me brother! I didn't even know your name until a few years ago when I hired you. You coward! You are nothing to me! Nothing!” Blaine yelled, receiving a hook to the jaw for his outburst.

“Oh, but I am your brother,” Matthew continued his tirade. He made a thoughtful face and bobbed his head back and forth. “Half-blood, but still a brother.” 

Blaine shook his head slowly, not able to comprehend this man's claim. As far as Blaine was concerned, their relationship was one of ink on paper.

“My God, man!” Matthew stormed, his fury at Blaine's thick-headedness causing him to tighten his grip on Kurt's neck till he could barely breathe. “Did you even remember the business that your father claimed to have in France so long ago? He was gone for months at a time, around the time that you were born…before even! He never left! That business was my mother and me! And when he was done with her, he shut her up on a run-down old estate and never returned – that worthless old house on that dead piece of land…” Matthew's hand shook, nearly toppling Kurt and Beth over the side. “He banished us from all respectable society! Barely gave us a living, and made me a bastard!”

The look on Blaine's face was one of revulsion, but Kurt could not tell to whom it was directed. Kurt knew Blaine did not think the best of his father. But still - adultery? A bastard son? Blaine's sinking heart showed on his face, much to Matthew's delight.

“That's right, brother,” Matthew persisted. “Your father took my mother the way he took everything. Then he discarded us. He wouldn't accept me as his own. It broke my mother's heart till she died. Died alone!”

Blaine shook his head in disbelief. It was too much information for him to devour, especially with his husband and child in mortal danger. He raised his head again, with a fire blazing in his eyes.

“And what do you want of me, brother?” Blaine asked, his teeth clenched to contain his mounting fury for the sake of his family.

“I want all that you have,” Matthew replied. “I cannot have our father's love, but it seems that you didn't have it much, either, so I can at least sympathize with you there.” Matthew smirked at his own joke. “On the other hand, I can take his land, and his title.”

“But you cannot,” Kurt spoke finally, finding his nerve. “There are several before you, even if you succeed in killing us.”

“Yes, you are right. And they, too, can join you in death,” Matthew slurred in Kurt's ear. “You know, you only have yourself to blame for this. If you had just slunk away and left him like I was trying to get you to do, like the whiny bitch you are, you wouldn't be here right now, about to die.” His breath against Kurt's neck caused him to shiver, and Matthew's mouth twisted into a devious grin. Kurt swallowed audibly, fighting against the fingers that wrapped like vines around his slender neck. 

“Your husband shivers at the feel of my lips against his neck, brother,” Matthew teased. “Maybe I will only dispatch the girl, and keep your young husband for myself.”

Blaine roared as he tried to wrench free of his captors, but Kurt froze, the thought of being touched by Matthew - touched in the intimate ways that his husband had introduced him to - scared him more than the idea of his own death. He pulled Beth close and raised his eyes to the sky, silently pleading to whomever might be there looking over them for a way out.

Kurt's mother had always said that there was a separate God for children. If that was true, Kurt prayed that he would see Beth rescued.

“Do you have nothing to say to me?” Matthew growled at Kurt, furious by his lack of reaction to Matthew's threats. “Are you not going to beg me to free you? Beg me to spare your wretched husband's miserable life?” 

Matthew spun Kurt about to face him and slapped him hard across the cheek. Kurt could hear his husband's desperate howl. Suddenly, Kurt felt the hillside crumble. The ground beneath his feet shifted, and then gave way. In an instant, he was careening down the hillside, still clutching Beth. With all his strength, Kurt rolled to his back. He raised one arm, digging his nails into the ground, trying to stop. He heard the sound of men's voices in the distance - Matthew and Blaine both shouting oaths, and the two villains who held his husband's arms berating and mocking him.

Kurt felt his nails start to lift slowly from his fingers and break one by one. He heard a small crack, and a shot of white-hot pain screamed down his arm causing him to cry out. His hand felt numb, and he knew he had broken a finger, but which he could not tell. Still he drove his fingers deeper into the dirt, trying to find purchase, but to no avail. His legs stung as sharp rocks and twigs ripped through his hose, tearing at his skin. 

As the slope in the ground leveled, Kurt and Beth slid to a stop, leaving Kurt's feet to dangle over the edge. Kurt lay paralyzed, not daring to move an inch as he felt the chill breeze pass up his pant leg. Heedless of the ruckus erupting around them, Kurt and Beth did not move. The yelling voices had gone quiet since the only sound Kurt heard was his own heart thudding in his chest. 

Kurt could no longer feel the last two fingers of his right hand and he knew without a doubt they were broken. He took a risk and sat up slowly, but he saw no one - no one behind him, no one below them in the meadow. In fact, from over the ledge, Kurt could not see the steep slope of the hill. With the unbroken but weak fingers of his right hand, Kurt reached around him for anything that might help them back up the hill the way they came. Kurt's hand came in contact with a brittle rope of root snaking down the hillside. He grabbed hold of it as best he could and gave it a swift tug to be sure it was sturdy. Kurt turned carefully to his knees. He looked into Beth's eyes, red and swollen from crying.

“Now listen to me well,” Kurt said as calmly and as evenly as he could. “I want you to wrap your arms around me, and no matter what happens, hold on tight.”

Beth continued to stare at Kurt, her fists drawn up to her mouth in a child's need for security, but she did not budge. She was staring at the swelling of Kurt's right hand. Kurt caught her gaze, keeping her eyes focused away from his injured hand.

“I swear to you, you will be safe, my love,” Kurt spoke softly. “Now please, do as I say. You wouldn't want Lord Anderson to see you frightened, would you?”

Beth shook her head slowly. Without a word (Kurt was sure she could not manage one if she tried) Beth wrapped her small arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

“Good girl,” Kurt cooed as he started to rise to his feet. Slowly and with calculated footsteps, he started up the hill. He paused momentarily between each step to secure his footing in the dirt before continuing further, counting in his head as a way to ignore the constant burn of pain in his arm. Kurt smiled weakly as the crest of the ledge grew closer. From the meadow below, Kurt thought he heard a muffled noise, but he could not turn his head – his neck stiff from being throttled. The muttering grew louder until it broke free and bellowed after him, stopping Kurt in his tracks. 

“Kurt!” Blaine screamed. “Kurt, look out!”

Kurt looked up and saw Matthew's grim face.

“Better watch your step,” he said in a flat, menacing voice. A second later, Kurt's eyes were full of dry sediment, as Matthew had scraped up a handful and tossed it, hitting Kurt square in the face. Kurt stumbled, tugging the root hard to keep his balance, and the gnarled thing gave way. Kurt fell to his tailbone, sliding backward down the incline until he and Beth lay on the ledge where they began.

“Bloody hell!” Kurt screamed in spite of himself, wishing he could better control his tongue in front of Beth. He felt more sediment rain down on him and realized that Matthew had started down the hill toward them. Kurt blinked hard, but the moisture that formed in his eyes only succeeded in further obscuring his vision. 

Kurt wanted to think clearly, to come up with a calculated plan of escape, maybe even a way to incapacitate Matthew in the process, but his brain could only come up with one idea, over and over, till it rang out loudly in his ears.

“Hold on, Beth!” Kurt called to her, and he pulled on the root with all his might. He couldn't make himself jump, no matter how hard he tried, so he leaned back far till he lost his balance and let gravity take over, sending them toppled over the ledge. With his arm wrapped around the root, the pair dropped, then came to a sudden stop when the root stalled. They hung above another ledge that led into a cave gutted out of the rock.

Kurt swung himself toward the ledge, waiting until he could almost touch the rock with the tips of his shoes, then let go. They landed on the slick stone, the waterfall pounding the rocks to their right. He had no clue how they would get down from here, but they seemed alright for the time being, at least for a few minutes until Kurt hatched another brilliant plan.

He tried not to be too hard on himself. He was doing the best he could. There was too much to think about, too much to worry about, and Kurt was exhausted. His arm throbbed. All he wanted to do was fall asleep and forget about the pain, but he fought the need to lie down, to let his knees buckle so that he could rest at last.

“Are we…are we safe?” Beth asked, her words partially drowned out by the water.

Kurt shook his head, and brought a single finger to his lips, silently commanding the child not to speak. Kurt crept to the cave opening and carefully peeked around. He saw the face of his husband, ghastly and unnaturally pale, staring up at him. Still held by his captors, Blaine was screaming up at him, and though he could not hear his words, he saw them form on his lips.

“LOOK OUT!”

Kurt looked up the way they had come and saw a flash of steel. Kurt threw up his hands to shield his face. Blood-stained metal sliced through the sleeve of his coat and into his flesh. Kurt batted his hands, trying to ward off the bite of the weapon. He reached up, managing to grab Matthew's ruffled sleeve, and pulled, dragging the man from his ledge and dropping him to a ledge below.

There was no time for planning. No time to give in to fear. No time to think or consider or second guess. Matthew had a weapon and he wasn't wounded. If he made his way up to the ledge, Kurt and Beth were goners. And Matthew – sadistic, diabolical Matthew – wasn't looking just to kill them. He was looking to make them suffer – to make Blaine suffer while he tortured the ones he loved, toying with them like a cat plays with mice.

The only person who could stop him had barely any energy left.

Out of sheer desperation, Kurt grabbed Beth again and made for the ledge. Gripping the girl in his arms, the rose scent of her curls giving him courage, he ran to the ledge...

...and jumped.

Kurt and Beth cut through the cool air and landed feet first into the freezing water. It soaked Kurt's suit and felt like ice cutting into his skin. He kicked out his legs, frantically fighting to keep his head above water. He couldn't feel his arms. He prayed that Beth had not let go and was not flailing helplessly somewhere under the water.

Guided surely by luck alone, his fingers found the grassy bank. He pulled himself onto the wet sod, feeling his arms scream in pain as his broken fingers fought with the others to dig into the ground. He scrambled onto the grass and felt the weight of Beth's body slide off him. Kurt saw her face, her skin red from the frigid water, her hair plastered to her cheeks. Ignoring the pain screaming from every nerve ending, he threw his arms around the girl, thankful to be alive.

But apparently the powers that control the sun, earth, and sky had decided that Kurt and Beth had not suffered enough. Vengeance is a powerful force - one that cannot be denied - and because of it, a new pain blossomed in Kurt's body. It was incredible, mind-numbing, and it took control of his nerves and muscles. He felt his hands fall from Beth's shoulders when he would have held on to her forever. He craned his neck around to look behind him – the pain in his neck ruled out entirely by the one to the left of his right shoulder. There it was - a long Mother-of-Pearl inlayed handle of a dagger, sticking out from his back. He would have appreciated the beauty and artistry put into making the weapon if it wasn't imbedded in his back. Kurt tried to touch it, but it was a bit out of reach.

The world as Kurt knew it tilted left and right. He turned a bit farther to see that Matthew no longer hung from his ledge on the rock. He had jumped when Kurt did and was negotiating the rapids. Resting on a mound of granite that had emerged through the rippling waves of the river, he had seen Kurt's exposed back and took his shot.

Kurt took a moment to be properly appalled at the extent to which this man wished him dead.

Even though most of his body stayed numb from the water, Kurt felt the sharp sting between his shoulder blades as surely as he saw a spatter of crimson drops stain the blanket of grass at his knees. He felt his body slump forward, but he struggled to catch himself before he fell headfirst onto the ground. He raised two shaking fingers to his lips, pressing them to the corner of his mouth to collect some of the moisture that had gathered there. He brought the fingers to his eyes, confirming what he had already feared. 

The blood was his.

All around him grew silent. A haze formed before his eyes like a bewitching fog crossing the river to cover them all. He felt a gentle tugging on his coat. Kurt lifted his heavy head and saw Beth. The girl looked like an angel.

‘Maybe we are both dead,' Kurt thought, ‘and Beth has come to take me home.' But the look of terror in her eyes spoke otherwise. If they were truly in heaven, she would have nothing to fear. 

‘Ah well,' Kurt rationalized. ‘Maybe we are in hell. Angels exist in hell.' He fought the urge to laugh, the dagger in his back making any sudden movement agonizing.

Though nose-to-nose with Beth, the girl's voice could not seem to travel the distance to Kurt's ears. He could scarcely make out the words forming on her quivering lips.

“Please, Kurt,” she was pleading. “Please, get up.”

“I am sorry,” he said, barely even breathing, though breathing seemed irrelevant as peace had already begun to overtake him. He no longer wanted to fight. His body was filled with effervescent warmth, and he felt as though he could simply melt into the earth. 

“Run, Beth,” he implored the child. “Run away from here.”

“I will not leave you,” Beth cried. “I will not leave you, papa.”       

A smile formed on Kurt's drawn face. He felt joyful tears pressing at the corners of his eyes.

“Oh, Beth…” he wept, “I could not have asked for a better daughter than you.” With Beth's words ringing in his ears, Kurt could die happy. He only had want for the reassurance of his husband... 

Time seemed to slow, even as the urgency of the situation started to bore into his brain. 

“Run,” he repeated, whispering to Beth as he felt soothing hands pulling him to the ground. “Run and save yourself.”

“No,” Beth sobbed as she pulled at Kurt's shoulders, her hands balled into fists as her fingers dug into his coat, the skin on her knuckles stretched white.

“Run,” Kurt persisted. He turned his head to look around him, trying to catch a glimpse of Blaine. He spied him across the riverbank, flanked by the two beastly men, each gripping his arms, keeping him from running to Kurt's aid. He saw the first whisper something to Blaine that made his face blanch, and he struggled to get free. A fist to his stomach made him lurch forward. The men laughed. One grabbed him by the hair and pulled him upright so that Blaine continued to look at Kurt...probably so that he could witness the inevitable.

And even at this moment of peace, Kurt knew that he was coming.

Blaine said nothing, made no motion to him, but his eyes spoke scores. Kurt could see Blaine apologizing, enraged, pleading...but pleading for what? Still gazing into Blaine's golden eyes, Kurt remembered the last time he had gazed so deeply into Blaine's amazing eyes...what Blaine had said to him. 

It was in the early morning hours, before the sun kissed the horizon with its sacred light. Kurt had had a nightmare – a dream of a fire that he could not fight, a fire that took the lives of everyone dear to him, with him watching on, helpless to save even one. They were lying together in their huge four-poster bed, Kurt finding tremendous comfort in Blaine's embrace.

“I don't know how to be brave,” Kurt had confessed to him. “Not like my mother. Not like you.”

Blaine had drawn him close, nuzzled his neck, breathing in the scent of Kurt's hair.

“There is no trick to bravery,” Blaine replied. “Some of the world's bravest deeds have not been performed by knights or soldiers, but by ordinary people.”

Kurt's innocent look of confusion had made Blaine chuckle. He kissed Kurt's furrowed brow, and held Kurt tighter to him.

“Sometimes the very act of rising to greet the day requires more courage in some than is required to fell an entire army. And you, my love...” Blaine cupped Kurt's chin with the crook of his finger to gaze deeper into his enticing sea-colored eyes, “are one of the bravest people I know.” Blaine had lowered his lips to Kurt's and took his mouth in a kiss that nearly stopped Kurt's heart. The memory of it, even now, filled him with a tingle like the electricity that builds in the air before a storm.

“But, if you think yourself a coward,” Blaine had mocked when he released Kurt, leaving him breathless, “I will teach you to be brave.”

Then Blaine had made love to Kurt - softly, slowly, with a burning passion Kurt had never experienced. It was not the polite act of a married couple performing their wedded duties, but a device of true, unadulterated devotion.

The words Blaine formed on his lips as he looked at Kurt confirmed the feeling he held deep inside.

“I love you,” Blaine said. Then he said it again and again, so that Kurt could remember it from here to the next world, if that was where he was headed.

Kurt heard the words of the lanky holding onto his beloved Blaine.

“Lord Matthew will ‘ave yer stringy husband till he dies,” the awful man drawled, “and then he'll kill that lit'le bastard girl.”

The last of his words snapped Kurt back to reality. Kurt probably would not survive the rape, if that truly was Matthew's intent, but his precious Beth - she would die. Matthew would knife the child until she bled a river, and her small, lifeless body would no doubt join his in a shallow, unmarked grave.

And his husband loved him. Truly loved him. Kurt could not die; he would not allow it. He had to do something.

Kurt heard the spilling of the river as it raced over the jagged rocks at the bank. Interspersed with that lapping sound, Kurt heard Matthew fighting the rapids, slowly reaching them from where they had leapt into the water. Kurt felt his mind once again begin to cloud, but he fought. He fought through the comforting haze into the grizzly light and the mist of rain. He felt Beth's arms hugging his shoulders, her heavy sobs reverberating against his back.

“Not yet,” Kurt whispered to himself as he struggled to regain his feet. “I'm not going anywhere yet.”

Kurt fixed his gaze on his husband's face. A glimmer of light, the ember of hope, began to shine in Blaine's eyes. His breath quickened. He leaned forward, ready to pounce - wanting to save his husband.

“Get up,” Blaine was saying. The man to his left brought the flat of his foot down on the back of Blaine's leg. Blaine crumbled in the man's grasp, but his eyes never left Kurt's face.

“Get up!” he yelled louder. “Get up!” 

Kurt stumbled as he rose. He caught his balance and looked at Beth, whose eyes were wide with awe. Then he locked his eyes back on his husband, urging himself to draw off of Blaine's strength – Blaine's incredible strength under almost insurmountable odds, as Kurt pictured him at every moment during his life.

Kurt's jaw firmly set with the determination to live - at least long enough to see his daughter safe - he stood upright, only minutely bowed by the blade in his back. Even the men who bound his husband's arms looked amazed that he rose. He felt the sting of his wounds grow and spread down the length of his back and his arms. The pain was enough to immobilize him, but Kurt refused to give in. If he hit the ground, it would be the last time, and he knew it. 

Kurt felt a twitching at the hem of his pants. Then a cold hand locked onto his ankle and nearly pulled him down. Kurt spun around. He pushed Beth behind him and out of harm's way. Kurt looked down to see Matthew emerging from the icy water. He had tossed his gun ahead of him onto the grass, but he wasn't trying to pull himself out. He was trying to pull Kurt in.

Kurt's ears were bombarded by a sea of nondescript noises and voices. He heard the chuckling of the men across the river. He heard Beth's soft sobs. He heard his husband calling his name. He scanned the ground and saw a branch – long and thin, bare of bark and white like bone, with a pointed tip - lying on the bank within his reach.

Kurt stooped for it, the pain in his limbs indescribable. His muscles felt torn to shreds, and as he reached for the length of wood with his right hand, he despaired to discover he could barely get his fingers to respond. He shut his eyes tight, tight against the pain, tight against the thought of being raped, his daughter disemboweled, and his husband beaten to death. With a growl from within the depths of his soul, he wrapped his fingers around the limb and lifted it. 

Kurt swung it ferociously, wailing over Matthew's back. He heard Matthew's grunts as he tried to wave the branch away, but Kurt didn't stop. When he could not lift the branch any more, he began to jab Matthew in the face, stabbing him with all the strength he had left. 

“I...have...had,” Kurt said as he thrust the branch at him, “just...as much...as I...can take...from you!”  Finally Kurt‘s weapon found its mark, and the tip of the branch, sharp as any sword, plunged through Matthew's eye.

Matthew reeled backward, his mouth open in a silent scream as he let go of his grip on the bank, plunging down the rapids, rolled beneath the waves and out of sight.

All around looked at Kurt. Kurt shivered from head to toe with cold, with pain, with anger. Before he considered the move, he bent and retrieved the pistol. He pointed it at the two beasts who held his husband captive. His hand shook, and he didn't know how long it would take before his arm gave out on him. Besides, the gun was an idle threat since Kurt wasn't convinced he could shoot competently enough to hurt the two men and not hit Blaine in the process. He only hoped the men didn't call his bluff.

“Release him,” Kurt said calmly, keeping Beth hidden behind him. 

“M'lord,” the larger of the two men mocked, “I daresay you would no be hittin' us if you fire that gun.”

“I said release him!” Kurt repeated, trying to appear undaunted by the man's words, feeling his time grow short, what was left of his life slipping away as the haze reappeared in his vision.

“That gun wouldna fire anyways,” the second said with a cruel, taunting laugh. “The powder's wet.”

“But this one is stone dry.” A dangerous, low voice came from behind the three. Sebastian pressed the barrel of a pistol against the chin of the larger man, making the man's eyes blow wide. Before the smaller man could turn on him, Jonas reached out his beefy fist and struck him on the jaw, sending him to the ground.

Kurt watched the rescue, and relief pushed the pain from his body. Seeing his husband safe, knowing his work was done, Kurt dropped the pistol and fell to the earth.

Blaine broke from the men's arms, adrenaline coursing through him. As the fight ensued, he plunged into the river, limping as the water pulled on his false limb and tried to carry him away. He fought the rapids and won, even though the stinging water ran red with his own blood. 

Blaine reached his husband and put his arms around him, careful not to touch the dagger sticking out of his back. He rolled Kurt's head up to look at him, but his eyes stared blankly up. Blaine saw only a faint spark of life left. 

“Kurt!” Blaine cried, putting a hand to his ice cold cheek. “Kurt, do not do this! Talk to me!” Kurt blinked his eyes once and only once, the slight shadow of a smile fading from his lips.

“No!” Blaine screamed. He stood, his useless fake leg sinking into the dirt as he struggled to lift his husband into his arms. Jonas came up behind Blaine, the earl clumsily holding Kurt's limp body in his embrace, a grieving Beth sobbing loudly behind him.

“Let me ‘ave his lordship, m'lord,” Jonas said, gently trying to relieve Blaine of his husbands body.

“No!” Blaine snapped. 

“Beggin' yur pardon, m'lord,” Jonas said, speaking soothingly, and with manners Blaine never knew the man possessed. Jonas rounded in front of Blaine to block his path. “We brung a carriage. Let me take ‘im to it.”

Blaine looked up into the man's deep set eyes, then at Sebastian holding the other two ruffians at pistol point. Blaine felt on the verge of collapse. He swallowed and nodded.

“Take him,” Blaine said, fit to choke on his own tears. “I must see to my daughter.”

Jonas scooped Kurt's body into his massive arms and directed the earl to an awaiting carriage.

Blaine tried to keep his mind blank, tried to not think the worst, and in his thoughts, he urged Kurt to fight, but he had felt Kurt's cold skin. He had seen the light dwindle in Kurt's eyes.

He had not the least bit of hope.