Kurt felt like everyone could see his blush.�

He couldn’t look at Blaine. Or Rachel, for that matter. It had been torture, singing that song with her and pretending cold sweats weren’t breaking down his back every time he thought about her telling their father about what she’d seen him doing with Blaine.

And the blush was back.

Kurt stared down at his soup, wondering when his life had gotten so complicated.

“Has anyone seen Noah?” Carole asked suddenly, frowning. “I thought he was just late, but--”

“Mother!” Rachel yelled, rushing into the room, holding a piece of paper over her head.

Kurt’s heart stopped for one blinding moment, for all he could think of was the note he’d stupidly, stupidly kept and if Rachel showed that to his father-- He half-rose out of his chair, eyes meeting Blaine’s panicked ones across the table.

“Noah’s run away!” Rachel cried, hurrying to Carole and thrusting the letter at her.�

Kurt dropped back into his seat, nearly boneless from relief. He noticed how Blaine slumped across the table.

“He says he’s run away to try and find his father,” Carole read from the note, her eyes wide with horror. “Burt, we can’t let him do this!”

Kurt’s father sighed. “We’ll look for him, Carole, but he may be long gone by now, and he’s nearly a man. There’s not much we can do to stop him either.”

“We have to at least search for him!” Carole resolved. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, and he just arrived! He doesn’t know where anything is, he could be lost!”

Santana, Kurt noticed, looked very pale. He wondered, suddenly, if she and Noah were close. It hadn’t seemed like it, but he realized, staring at her wide eyes and stricken expression, that they were brother and sister and they had been raised together. And, if nothing else, he was a familiar face in a crowd of strangers.�

“Sam, Kurt, Blaine,” his father said, “you’ll all help right?”

“You can count me in too, Mr. Hummel,” Karofsky spoke up.

“And me!” Rachel piped up, brows furrowing determinedly.

“And me too,” Santana said sharply. “He’s my brother, after all.”

His father sighed. “Alright. Kurt, you go with Rachel. Santana, you go with Sam. Blaine, if you’d be fine going with David . . . .?”

“Of course,” Blaine said, though he threw a look over at Kurt with such clear longing written in it that it warmed Kurt to his toes.�

“We’ll all search the grounds, see if he’s anywhere nearby,” his father said. “If we don’t find him, I’ll phone the police and tell them to keep a lookout.”

-

They all hurriedly ate their dinner and then marched out into the dark, flashlights in their hands. Rachel shivered a bit in the cold night air and took Kurt’s free hand in her own. They split off into their groups, each calling Noah’s name loudly as they went.�

“Noah!” Kurt called out as they headed into the dark. “Noah, are you out here? Noah?”

They continued to search for a long time, calling Noah’s name until they were hoarse. When a half-hour passed and they still hadn’t seen him, Rachel admitted that she was a bit worried. She didn’t know Noah well, but he was her cousin and she liked him better than she liked Santana. She didn’t want to see him get hurt.�

“Do you think he’s alright?” Rachel asked, shivering a bit.�

Kurt hugged her lightly. “I’m sure he’s fine. He’s a big boy, Rachel.”

Rachel nodded and tried not to think of the library. “I’ll just go over here,” she said gesturing to to another part of the garden, more secluded because of the rows of hedges. “Maybe he’s here.”

“Rachel--” Kurt started, sounding concerned, but Rachel ignored him and ducked into the undergrowth.

She made her way through the hedges for a little while, trying to calm down. She frowned when she realized she could hear noises up ahead - some sort of odd grunting noise, like a dog. Fear twisted in her stomach - maybe some wild animal had made its way into their backyard? Carefully, she tiptoed forward, gripping her flashlight tightly. Step, step, step--

She ducked under another branch and her flashlight swung for a moment, dancing over two bodies in the undergrowth. Rachel, for a single moment, flashed back to Kurt and Blaine, tangled together in the library, and when she came back to herself, one of the people was fleeing, his back turned to her.�

Rachel’s heart twisted in her throat as she trained her flashlight on the remaining figure, gasp rising in her throat as she realized it was Santana there in the dirt, her beautiful red dress torn into shreds around her waist. There was--there was blood on her and Rachel realized that she was crying--broken, almost quiet sobs that shook her whole body. Bile gathered in Rachel’s throat and threw up in the bushes. She gasped there for a moment, her entire body wrung out, then turned on her heel and flung herself down next to Santana, hauling her into Rachel’s lap and cradling her head carefully as Santana sobbed still.�

“Help!” Rachel screamed to the sky, praying anyone would hear her. “Somebody help!”

-

The police arrived not long after that.�

Rachel sat on the couch, dry-eyed and shaking, staring ahead blankly. She heard the adults talking around her, but paid them no attention. In her head, she kept seeing Santana’s bloodied body again and again.�

Soon after they’d returned back, Sam and Blaine had come in, dragging Noah after them. He’d been bloodied and angry, but as soon as he’d heard that Santana was hurt, he’d frozen. Rachel hadn’t seen him move since he’d asked her father if he could sit with Santana and been refused. Rachel absently thought about reaching over to him, but it seemed like too much effort.�

“Rachel?” Rachel blinked, mind resurfacing as if from a dream. She looked up to see her mother standing over her, worry in her eyes. “Rachel, honey, the police want to talk to you. Do you think you can do that?”

Rachel nodded and stood, following the suited men into her father’s private study. She couldn’t even feel the delight that came from going in a place that was normally banned to her.�

Her father was already in the room and he touched Rachel’s shoulder gently, directing her into a chair. Across from her, behind her father’s desk, sat a suited man.�

“Rachel Hummel?” he asked, and she nodded. “Your family says you were the one to find your cousin. I know it’s hard, but did you manage to see who attacked her? Anything about him at all?”

Rachel shivered and Burt clamped a hand down on her shoulder. “Can’t this wait until later, gentlemen?” he asked. He sounded so tired. Rachel had never imagined her father could be so tired. “My daughter has been through a horrible experience.”

“If we want to catch who attacked your niece, we need to work as quickly as possible, Mr. Hummel,” one of the suited men said. “We’ll be as gentle as possible, I promise.”

Her father sighed, but didn’t withdraw his hand from Rachel’s shoulder. Finding comfort in the weight of his grip, Rachel sat up a little straighter and spoke past the lump in her throat.

“I think I saw who did it,” she said, and everyone’s attention was suddenly focused on her.

Rachel had gotten the barest glimpse of a face before she’d fumbled with her flashlight. She’d been thinking about that face all night, trying to figure out who it was. There was something familiar about it, the crop of dark hair, the shape of the face . . . .

Then, without warning, a thought had snuck in, whispering, it was Blaine, wasn’t it?

And suddenly all the pieces fit. Blaine, who Rachel knew attacked people and pinned them against library bookcases without their consent. Blaine, who was a dangerous sex maniac. Maybe he’d found out Santana and Rachel were onto what he was planning to do to Kurt and had attacked them first to get them out of the way. Rachel hated to think what he would’ve done to Santana if she hadn’t come and interrupted him.�

She squashed any of her doubts - the niggling feeling in the back of her mind that Blaine’s face was different from the one she’d seen, the question of why Blaine would attack a girl if he was a freak who liked men. It was Blaine. It had to be Blaine. He was the only one who fit.

Rachel looked up at the room full of people staring at her and took a deep breath. “It was Blaine,” she said.

-

Kurt didn’t know what was going on.�

“What are you doing with him?” he yelled at the policemen who were dragging Blaine out of the door. “What’s going on? What has he done?!”

Neither of the policemen looked at him. Blaine, though, glanced back, his eyes full of confusion and anguish. “Kurt--” he tried.

“You will not talk to my son,” Kurt’s father said, coming up behind him. Kurt looked back at him, taken aback by the anger in his face. “Get him the hell out of this house,” he ordered the policemen.

“Father, what are you saying,” Kurt said. His chest felt too tight and he couldn’t quite breath. He started to follow Blaine and the policemen down the hall, but his father put a hand on his shoulder, drawing him back. “What’s going on?!” he demanded. “Why are they taking Blaine?”

“Did that boy proposition you?!” his father demanded furiously. “Did he force his attentions on you, Kurt?!”

Kurt froze, his mind blank. Then, fury roared through him. Rachel.

“I don’t know what Rachel told you,” he said, trying to keep his voice even, “but it’s not true.”

Burt gave him a long, hard look. “She says Blaine was the one who--who attacked Santana.”

Kurt gaped at him. “She--She thinks Blaine--” He laughed, sharp and humorless. “Blaine is the last person who would attack her!”

“Because he’s homosexual?” his father asked, eyes narrow and angry.

“Because he’s Blaine,” Kurt burst out. “He--He picks up stray kittens and wants to become a lawyer to actually help people, by God--”

“Kurt, Rachel is accusing him,” his father said, softening a little. “She’s the only one besides Santana who has any credibility, and Santana’s in no condition to talk right now.” He paused, then added, “She showed us the note.”

Kurt froze again. “What note?” he asked, hoping Rachel hadn’t--

“The one that boy sent you,” his father said, getting angry again. Kurt’s heart dropped.

“Father--” he tried, but Burt interrupted him.

“Santana was--she was violated--” Burt shook his head, straightened his shoulders. “She was violated anally, Kurt.” Kurt blanched and for a moment, he felt a terrible pity for Santana. “I know a bit of what homosexuals do together, Kurt--no normal man would have taken her in that way, even forcefully.”

“Normal?” Kurt questioned, shivering a bit. He’d never thought about telling his father about his particular--yearnings. Having the reason why slapped in his face so blatantly hurt more than Kurt thought it would.

His father looked down at him. “I will not have a rapist under my roof, Kurt, especially when he attacks my niece and threatens my son,” he said decisively. “I may have watched over that boy from toddlerhood, but that changes nothing.”

“He didn’t threaten me!” Kurt cried. “Rachel has it wrong--” He paused.

His father looked at him. “Kurt, I have never questioned your lack of interest in girls,” he said carefully, oh so carefully. “I have never once attempted to arrange a marriage, not even to Miss Fabray or her cousin.” Kurt’s chest felt too tight, the walls were closing in around him-- “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“Father--” Kurt whispered, breathless with terror.�

His father sighed heavily and, for a moment, looked far older than forty.

“Kurt, you are--what you are. You are the second son - a wife is not required of you. I will never question what you do in your bedroom.” His father’s mouth twisted, either from disgust or disquiet. “If it had just been you, I would have spoken with Blaine and had him quietly transferred or sent off to school. But he has not only put his attentions on you, he has abused one of the girls in my charge--”

“We don’t know that!” Kurt cried. “Rachel could have been mistaken--”

“He disappeared around the same time Rachel discovered Santana, according to Sam,” his father said grimly. “Her story fits. Blaine has yet to defend himself. Kurt, he is going to jail for attempted buggery and rape. That is the reality.”

“Father, you can’t--” Kurt said, so angry that he could feel tears gathering. “You can’t--” He turned away and rushed down the hall, ignoring his father’s voice, calling him back.

Outside, Blaine was being escorted to the police car. His hands were cuffed behind his back, his hair was wild, suit untucked and rumpled. Kurt rushed forward, only to be pulled back by an officer.

“Sir, please,” the officer said, gripping Kurt’s arms.

“Can’t I say goodbye?” Kurt asked, eyes fixed on Blaine. “He’s my best friend, please--”

The policeman hesitated. Kurt tore his eyes away from Blaine to look at him - young and curly-haired, laugh lines crinkled at the corner of his eyes, he didn’t look very much like an officer of the law.�

“Please,” Kurt repeated. “Just let me say goodbye.”

The policeman sighed. “Bryan,” he called out. The policeman who had been escorting Blaine to the car paused, turning his head. “Let’s let them have a goodbye, alright?”

“William,” Bryan said, sounding irritated. “You know we can’t--”

“Come on, Bryan,” William said, smiling. “Let them have their dramatic farewell, yeah?”

Bryan huffed then turned back with Blaine, shoving him towards Kurt. “Two minutes,” he said warningly. “Hurry it up.”

Kurt released a shaky sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he said to William, who smiled at him, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Kurt hurried towards Blaine, catching him around the shoulders when he stumbled, off-balance because of the cuffs.�

“Kurt,” Blaine said, eyes wide and wet. “I’m sorry, Kurt, please, you have to believe me--”

“You didn’t do it,” Kurt said fiercely. Blaine stared at him.

“No,” he said. “No, I didn’t, but how do you--”

“You would never do something like that,” Kurt interrupted. “Never. I don’t know what Rachel thought she saw--”

He stopped at the look on Blaine’s face, the heartbreak. “Rachel told them I did that?” he asked. “She thinks I could hurt Santana?”

Kurt shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said helplessly. “She says she saw you attacking Santana, but you didn’t.”

Blaine’s heartbroken look faded a little. “I can’t believe you--” He shook his head and leaned forward against Kurt’s body, burying his head in the crook of Kurt’s neck. “Thank you,” he said, voice muffled, breath warm against Kurt’s skin. Kurt shivered. “I didn’t think you would believe me. Thank you.”

“Blaine,” Kurt said, lowering his head so he was speaking directly into Blaine’s ear. “I will always believe you.” He paused, wondering if it was the right time to say it. Then he remembered - Blaine was going to prison for God knew how long, Kurt might never see him again-- “I love you,” he breathed.

Blaine shivered and pulled away from Kurt, staring up at him. “I love you, too,” he said, quiet and confident.�

Kurt reached out, taking Blaine’s face in his hand. Blaine closed his eyes, leaning in. “Come back to me,” Kurt said, voice breaking a little. “Please.”

Blaine opened his eyes, the hurt and heartbreak so small in the face of the love there. “I will,” he promised. “We’ll be together again, I promise.”

Kurt wanted to kiss him. He wished he could, wished that it didn’t spark fear in him at the thought of kissing the man he loved in public, where everyone could see them. Blaine turned his head, pressed a small kiss to the inside of Kurt’s wrist.�

“I love you,” he said, and pulled away, leaving Kurt’s hands cold.

“I’ll find you,” Kurt promised.�

“Come on, Anderson,” Bryan said, walking up. “Time to go.” He grabbed Blaine’s arm, then paused, glancing at Kurt. “He’ll be at the McKinley Jailhouse, in Lima,” he said quietly. “If you want to visit.”

“Thank you,” Kurt murmured, his eyes fixed on Blaine. He leaned forward, hugged him tightly, for the last time. “I love you,” he said, then pulled away, turning on his heel and marching to the house. He didn’t look back, even when he heard the car start - if he did, he’d run after Blaine and never stop. Instead, he walked to his huge house with its big, empty windows, his eyes stinging with tears.�

-

Rachel knocked tentatively at Kurt’s door the next day.

“Kurt?” she asked, voice trembling. “Kurt, please--”

She stood there for hours. Kurt never answered her.