Blaine woke slowly. He felt like he had to fight against something heavy to reach the surface of awareness. He tried to talk or make a sound and all that came out was a hoarse moan. Why was his throat so scratchy and why couldn't he wake up? His head was so fuzzy, he didn't understand what was going on.

"Blaine?" a soft voice asked.

He forced his eyes open and looked over quickly, hoping it was Kurt sitting next to him. A dark haired nurse, he assumed, was standing there, a clipboard in her hand. He let his eyes slam shut again.

"Blaine, can you tell me how you are feeling?" the nurse asked.

"Like hell," he moaned.

"Does anything hurt?"

"Everything hurts. My heart hurts," he whined.

"Your heart hurts?" the nurse questioned softly.

"It's Kurt, you see," Blaine tried to explain through the muddled mess that was his brain. "I wasn't in time and he got beat up. I mean now that I'm here, he won't get beat up. At least I don't think he will be. Maybe things are different now. They always seem different when it happens, doesn't it?" he muttered.

"When what happens, Blaine?"

"When it all starts over again. You wouldn't understand unless you were going through it," he said, pulling his blanket closer, wanting to sleep some more.

"I'm good at understand things, Blaine, why don't you tell me about what happens to you," her kind voice said.

At that moment, all Blaine was certain of was that he was alone. And he was so tired of it. So he began to tell her what happened, just needing to get it all out.

"We loved Paris," he was saying. "Kurt kept wanting to go to the Eiffel Tower, almost daily. It was so much fun to watch the excitement on his face. There was nothing I wouldn't do for him. He is my husband. I miss him so much. I was laying there in bed with him and when I woke up I was here," he said, sounding offended.

"Could all of that have been a dream? It sounds like it was very vivid," she suggested.

"What? My life with Kurt? Are you kidding? I experienced an entire life in one dream? That is ludicrous. Kurt and I have been together for fourteen years and I remember every moment with him. Now, what seems more likely; I dreamed of an entire life, or I actually experienced it? Then I stalked him in the mall and freaked him out. I was so sure he would recognize me. Then I woke up here. Again. Then I decided to meet him at Dalton, like we did when we first met. Only I was late and some assholes from the Warblers decided to beat him up. I went to his house to see if he was okay. He didn't know who I was, of course. But I managed to get in to see how he was. I told him I liked him and asked him out and he said he would like that. Then I shook his hand and oh god, the feeling of being able to touch him was amazing. I closed my eyes just for a moment to savor the sensation and I opened my eyes to this damn place. Again. I'm getting really tired of this," Blaine said, irritable and tired from telling his story.

"That would be very tiring," the woman agreed, making notes like mad in her notebook. "So you have, started over, you call it, three times now?"

"Yes, that is what I said," Blaine muttered.

"And how many days has it been for you?"

"I'd say about seven days. It's kind of hard to keep track. But I never seem to make it past Monday before I'm back here again," Blaine said, drinking some water on the table next to him.

"Where do you think Kurt is through all of this?" her eyes looked genuinely curious.

"That's what I'd like to know," Blaine answered. "Part of me wonders if he is still in Paris and wondering where I am. Then I wonder since this is all a time issue, that maybe his time is frozen and when I get back, no time will have passed for him. Of course, he'll want to stick me in an institution if I tell him what happened," Blaine chuckled.

"You don't think he'd believe you?" she asked.

Blaine gave her a cynical look. "Seriously? Would you believe, well, do you believe me? Or do you think I'm a bit mental?"

"I believe that you believe it. I do have some concerns that you are losing chunks of time. But we'll discuss that later. Why don't you get some more rest, or are you hungry?" she offered.

"I'll sleep," Blaine said, grateful to snuggle back down, no matter how uncomfortable the bed was.

. . . . . .

"We need to keep him for a 72 hour observation period at least. He truly believes he is traveling through time and that is not the sign of a healthy teen. Has he ever shown any kind of mental distress before?" a man's voice asked.

Blaine had woken up when they'd all converged in the doorway of his room. He'd kept his eyes closed though, to be able to listen in. It was like they thought he wasn't there, with the volume they were talking at, or maybe they thought he was deaf.

"No, he's always been perfectly normal," he heard his mother say.

"Well, except for all of this talk about being gay," his father said and Blaine's stomach sank.

"What do you mean?" the man, probably a doctor, asked.

"He just came up to us one day and said he was gay. He'd never even tried dating a girl or, hell, a guy for that matter. He just decided this and demanded that we accept it. I think there is something wrong with him, maybe sexually, but like, mental. You know what I mean? Like he's afraid of sex or something so he decided to be ‘gay'," Blaine could practically hear the air quotes. "It's easier to be gay than to have to have a normal, healthy relationship."

"I see what you mean, Mr. Anderson. I will add that to the list of things we want to go through with him. We will keep him for the 72 hours like I said, if we have your permission," the doctor said.

"Keep him as long as necessary," his father said vehemently.

Blaine fought the tears threatening. He was thirty years old but he'd never gotten over the fact that his father had never really loved him. Especially after he'd come out. And now here he was, offering him up to the psych ward with no reservations.

"Does he really need to stay that long?" his mother's soft voice asked.

"I think it would be the best thing for Blaine, Mrs. Anderson. We'll be able to get to the root of some of these problems. Let's see, today is Friday, so he'll be released Monday morning. That's not so bad. It's like he went off with a friend for the weekend," the doctor said soothingly.

"If you think it's best," his mother said hesitantly.

"It is," Mr. Anderson said sternly.

"Alright," she conceded. "You aren't going to do anything crazy like electro shock or ice baths or anything are you?" her voice sounded scared. Why was she so concerned? Was there something about his mom that he didn't know?

"Of course not, Mrs. Anderson. We are just going to do some standard tests and try some medications. We just want to bring him back to a healthy state of mind," the doctor assured her.

"Can we say goodbye?" she asked.

"I think it would be best if we didn't have any outside contact for him. Not until we have a positive idea of what is going on," the doctor said.

"I can't say goodbye to my own son?"

"The doctor said no, Cheryl, I think it's best that we let the doctor make the decisions," Mr. Anderson said.

"Okay," she whispered.

A nurse came in the room and played around with his IV and the next thing he knew, the room got darker and heavier around him. Then he knew nothing.

. . . . . . . .

Blaine woke slowly again, fighting against the oppressive cloud hovering over him. He was listening closely as he woke, wondering what had happened when he was out. The first thing he noticed was the lack of machine sounds. There were no heart monitors or blood pressure cuffs. Carefully, he opened his eyes, trying to make it seem like he was still asleep. Under his lashes, he saw the walls were a sickly green. A ‘calm' color, the hospitals always claimed. The next thing he noticed was the bed. It was different. Flat, like a normal bed. His hand slipped down the side and he felt it. Restraints. He was in the psych ward. If he could ever vote for a time loop, now would be the time. He had learned his lesson. Do not share the time loop issue with anyone. Check.

He heard breathing and an odd clicking sound.

"I know you're awake, Blaine Anderson. You may as well look at me," a nasally voice said.

He opened his eyes and looked over. The boy sitting there was tall, gawky, with a long, sharp nose and thin lips. He was flicking his thumb nail and his forefinger nail together.

"My name is Neil and I've been here for three months. I am bi-polar with depression stages so extreme that I try to kill myself. I'm doing much better and I hope to leave soon. What's wrong with you, Blaine Anderson?" Neil asked, smiling cheerfully. He had an odd look in his hazel eyes.

"Um. Well, I don't know what they think is wrong with me. I know what I know and it's the truth, I'm not making it up," Blaine insisted.

"And what is the mysterious ‘it'?" Neil asked slowly, like he was talking to an idiot.

Blaine sat up slowly, his head weaving and feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds. Once he was settled with his legs crossed, he looked over at Neil and considered him. There was no way this could get worse.

"Hell, I'm already here, I may as well tell you. I'm stuck in a time loop Neil. But I'll start at the beginning. I'm thirty years old and I'm an actor on Broadway. I'm married to my husband, Kurt, and we live in New York. After we got married, we went to France for our honeymoon. One night we went to sleep and I woke up in a hospital bed. I was sixteen years old again and healing from a car wreck that I'd been in. Obviously, I was confused and had no idea what was going on. I went to find my husband, but the Kurt of this time doesn't even know me yet and was quite freaked out when I told him we were married. Then I woke up again. This time, I just watched out for him. See, we were due to meet at my school. He was coming there to spy on our glee club. We met on the staircase and everything was history from there. Well, I got into a conversation and missed my opportunity to meet him. He got beat up by a couple guys from our glee club. I went to see if he was okay and convinced his dad that even though I was a stranger, I cared. Hell, I beat up the guy who hurt Kurt. Anyway, I saw Kurt and told him I liked him. He reached out to shake my hand and while I was holding it, I closed my eyes. I wanted to remember the feel of his soft skin. When I opened my eyes, I was back here. Again," Blaine said, his voice still rough, but getting stronger.

All the time he'd been talking Neil had been sitting with his chin in his hand, paying close attention.

"So you've looped three times, right?" he finally asked.

"Right," Blaine said, wondering where this was going and when he'd be accused of being a worse nutjob than Neil.

"Do you loop at the exact same time? Like every Monday at one in the afternoon?" Neil asked, surprisingly astute.

"No. I've gone anywhere from one day to like four days and then I'm back here," he answered.

"Is the environment here the same each time you loop?" Neil asked.

"Yes. I wake up each time with my two friends sitting next to me singing and arguing with each other. Ironically, David is singing ‘The song that never ends' which is sickeningly accurate," Blaine said.

"I've never heard that song," Neil said, looking interested. "How does it go?"

"Really?" Blaine asked. He figured everyone had heard it at some point in time. But, hey, what else was he going to do. He cleared his throat and sang the simple song.

"This is the song that never ends

Yes, it goes on and on my friend

Some people started singing it

Not knowing what it was

And now they just keep

Singing it forever just because...

This is the song that never ends..."

"Do you see how that could get potentially irritating?" Blaine asked.

"Most definitely. I now have a weapon I can use against Hal," Neil said, looking devious.

"What did Hal do to you?"

"Hal thinks he's a dog and last week he peed on my leg! Now I'm going to follow him around and sing that song, just to annoy the crap out of him," Neil said, excited.

"That's really gross," Blaine observed.

"Blaine, you better get used to a lot of gross around this place. We have pee'ers, we have poopers, we have spitters - watch out for those ones, sometimes they get snot mixed in. We have people who stare at nothing all day, we have Hal the dog, and best of all, we have Moira and Ahmet. You need to talk to them immediately," Neil said firmly.

"Who are Moira and Ahmet?" Blaine asked, wondering if he wanted to meet anyone after those lovely descriptions Neil gave.

"Moira is a psychic and Ahmet is her energy source. I don't know how they both managed to get here at the same time, but they're here. I'm betting she manipulated the outcome. She's powerful. Like, freaky kind of powerful. Like, don't piss her off, kind of powerful. We need to get you to her. She'll know what to do to get you home," Neil said, determined. He got off his bed and slid into a pair of slippers. He was dressed in scrub type pants and a t-shirt. Then he looked down at the hospital gown he was still in.

"You have the same outfit, you just have to put it on. It's in the drawers over there," Neil said. "That's why I had to hang out in here. To show you around. I'm not dangerous so that's why you get to be my roommate," he said casually.

"Okay," Blaine said. "Does this mean you believe me?"

Neil looked at him for a moment. "I do. There's something about you that isn't a sixteen year old kid. Besides, it'll add some drama and excitement around here. We need that," Neil said with a grin. He was kind of looking jittery and excited to get going. "Go change," he said. "I'll take you to her right now."

Blaine got up slowly, making sure he was steady on his feet and went to the drawer Neil had pointed out. There were several pairs of gray pants and several white t-shirts and white briefs. Blaine grabbed one of each and made his way to the bathroom. He had just showered before school, but this body didn't know that. And he'd been laying in that bed at least two days he figured, though due to the drugs he couldn't be sure. He quickly showered, taking a minute to digest what was going on. Neil believed him, which he couldn't be too excited about due to the fact that Neil was a patient here. But it was nice to be believed. Then he considered going and seeing this supposed psychic. Why was she in here? And her helper just happened to be committed at the same time and place? It sounded odd, but hell, his whole life was odd right now. He'd take any and all help he could get. Drying off quickly, he got dressed. At least they were comfortable.

He went back into the bedroom and looked around for a moment. It was like a dorm room; with bars on the windows. Two beds, two nightstands, two dressers, and a bathroom. What more could you need in the psych ward?

"I hope you don't mind. I took the liberty of getting in the drawer under your bed and grabbing your slippers. We don't have shoes here, but the slippers are pretty comfortable," Neil said, a pair of brown slippers on the floor next to Blaine's bed.

"Thank you, I appreciate it," Blaine said. "Are we ready to go?"

"Almost. One rule here is that your bed has to be made or you get marks," Neil said, a flash of fear passing through his eyes.

"What is a mark?" Blaine asked, immediately going over and straightening up his bed.

"Marks mean trouble. Five marks and it's solitary confinement for you. A mattress and a toilet. That's all you get. I had to go there once. I'll never go back," Neil whispered.

Blaine noted that and determined that he would stay out of trouble as much as he could while he was here. He finished the bed, got Neil's approval and they left the room. The hall was like any hospital hall, but there were a lot of windows looking into rooms and even those windows had bars, he saw. Neil was telling him the rules as they walked. Up by seven, in bed by nine, lights out at ten. No leaving the room during sleeping hours. No disturbing or bullying  the other residents. Be on time for group and individual sessions, check the schedule by the nurse's station. When it's time for meds, line up and stay quiet. If you have to get a shot, make sure your shoulder or hip is ready. Neil giggled and told Blaine that one time a guy pushed his pants down a bit to bare his hip and his pants fell all the way off. And he hadn't been wearing underwear! Neil giggled and giggled, fluttering his hands together. Blaine gave a chuckle and smiled at him.

"I get really excited about stuff. It's part of my problem," Neil told him, still fluttering his hands around.

"You seem fine to me," Blaine said casually.

Neil stopped and dropped his hands, seemingly instantly calm. "Blaine Anderson, you are okay by me. Thank you for accepting me," he said, holding out his hand.

"Thank you for everything you've done so far," Blaine returned, shaking his hand firmly. He knew now what it was like to not be believed and have people look at you like your nuts even though you know the truth inside. There was something going on and people like Neil were victims of circumstances out of their control.

Neil took him by the nurse's station where he checked in with a nurse. She smiled and asked how he was settling in. He wanted to tell her it wasn't the Ritz Carlton, but it would do. He didn't think she would appreciate the joke. She asked how he was feeling and if he was okay with Neil showing him around. He answered to the affirmative to both questions. He would much rather spend his time with Neil than with a nurse or doctor. He might end up saying the wrong thing and end up drugged or with marks next to his name. The nurse said he was free to go but to be on time for meds. Blaine nodded and Neil told him he'd make sure Blaine was back in time.

They left and walked to the main area which was just like a huge living room. There  were couches and comfortable chairs. Further down the hall was another large room with no doors. This one had a bunch of tables, like a restaurant. But it was for games and crafts. One woman sat in the corner knitting. It was a rectangle and she was rocking back and forth, knitting quickly. The rectangle cascaded from her lap to the floor.

"That's Ada. She's been working on that rectangle for two days, that's how fast she is. She does a whole bunch of those and then knits them together. Everyone gets a blanket from her. She's sweet, but she doesn't talk. It's a shame," Neil said quietly.

Further down the hall were more rooms, the women's dorm area, Neil told him. They went to room 231 and Neil knocked quietly. The door was opened a crack and Neil whispered to whoever was there and pointed back at Blaine. The door closed for a moment and then was opened wide to allow them in. Blaine walked in and nodded at the tall bald man at the door. The man and Neil were blocking the view of the rest of the room. Blaine looked at the bald man. He was in the usual clothes, but seemed very intense, his eyes so dark they looked black. The man stared at him for a long moment and then turned to someone else in the room and nodded.

Neil and the man moved to the side, revealing a woman sitting on a bed. Around the room were swaths of fabric. Blaine could see they had been taped to the walls. It made sense since they probably weren't allowed tacks or nails. It gave the room a warm atmosphere with the purples and blues strung around the room. The woman on the bed was in the same outfit the men were in. She had long salt and pepper hair. The streaks of white through her hair almost looked like she'd had it done professionally. But at the same time it looked natural, like white waves riding down her back and waist and pooling on the bed beside and behind her. She was older, maybe sixty, but didn't have many wrinkles. She was quite striking. And her eyes. The closer Blaine got, the more he was entranced with her. Her eyes were gray-lavender. Depending on the angle you looked her eyes actually looked purple. It was amazing.

"You have the most beautiful eyes I've seen on a woman," Blaine said bluntly. Kurt held the title for men, with those amazing blue-green-gray eyes of his.

"Ah, your lover has beautiful eyes too," she said in a soft voice.

Blaine's eyes went wide. "How did you know that?"

"How do you know you're breathing?" she asked him.

"I just do," Blaine replied.

"I just do, as well," she said with a gentle smile. "I am Moira. The giant over there is Ahmet. He doesn't talk much, but he is very helpful."

"I'm Blaine," Blaine said, offering his hand to her.

She shook her head. "Not yet, Blaine Anderson. Ahmet, would you grab Blaine the chair from the desk, please?"

The man moved swiftly and soon Blaine was seated on a chair so close to the bed, his knees were hitting the mattress.

"Now I will take your hand," Moira said, holding her hand out palm up.

He offered his hand and she shook her hand at him and he got the point, turning his hand palm up and laid it in hers. She closed her eyes with a soft smile.

Immediately she gasped, her eyes flying open. "You don't belong here."

Blaine's eyes flew open to match hers. "No, I don't," he agreed. "How did you know?"

"I thought we covered that already," she said impatiently.

Blaine nodded. She just knew.

"Ahmet, I am going to need your help on this one. We need to pull out the big guns for Mr. Anderson," Moira said, dropping his hand and standing. "Neil, if you are staying, you need to stay in the corner and do not speak." Neil nodded and immediately plopped into the corner, his arms wrapped around his knees. His eyes were wide with excitement and he nodded encouragingly at Blaine.

Ahmet silently set to work, spreading a blanket over the floor and setting two pillows across from each other. Moira sat down on one of the pillows and motioned for Blaine to sit on the other. Once Moira was settled, her legs crossed over one another like a pretzel, Ahmet sat behind her on his knees.

Blaine crossed his legs, but couldn't cross them like she had. Now, Kurt, he could do it. He was very flexible. Not right now, he told his brain. You can miss him later. It's time to concentrate. He had no idea how Moira was going to help him, but it was the first sign of hope he'd had since this whole thing had begun.

Ahmet began raising and lowering his arms behind Moira, like he was lifting something up and then pushing it back down, toward her head. He made a fist, leaving only his first two fingers out and began breathing in deeply with the lift up of his hands and exhaling in a loud rush with the push down. His eyes never left the back of Moira's head. Blaine tried to keep himself under control because he just wanted to laugh. Ahmet looked absolutely ridiculous.

Moira lifted a brow at Blaine. "Do not judge, Blaine Anderson. Ahmet is generating power for me just as a river or windmill would do. This is all to help you. If you would prefer to laugh about it, feel free to leave," she said simply.

All traces of humor left Blaine and he nodded at her. He settled his hands up on his legs as he saw her doing. She nodded once and closed her eyes. With one last look at Ahmet, whose nostrils were flaring with every breath, Blaine closed his eyes, wanting to be able to concentrate.

"Give me your hand, Blaine Anderson," Moira said. She took his hand and sandwiched it in between her own. "Blaine Anderson," she murmured over and over again as if getting a handle on who he was. Ahmet began chanting softly behind her. It was a gentle, soothing sound and Blaine latched onto the sound. He kept his eyes closed and tried to open himself up as much as he could, not that he knew what he was doing.

"You're doing it right," Moira said, surprising him. "Keep opening yourself up to me. Clear your thoughts, your prejudices, your worries. Let me see into you."

Blaine nodded though she wouldn't see him and let himself go, sending off an intruding thought as if it was an irritating bug, putting all of his attention on the sound of Ahmet's voice. Soon he'd entered a light state of meditation.

"Good job, Blaine Anderson," Moira said softly. "When are you from?"

"The year 2025," Blaine answered, his voice quiet. His voice seemed to come from somewhere other than him. Like he was here, but his voice was across the room.

"How did you get here?" she asked.

"I don't know. I woke up," he told her.

"You traveled here, didn't you?"

"Yes," he answered, surprising himself. His voice still sounded like it was coming from the side of the room.

"Do you know why you are looping?"

"Yes," his voice said.

"Why are you looping?" she asked, her voice sounding eager.

"I am not getting it right," his voice said.

"I can help you get it right," she said softly, encouraging him. "Tell me what you aren't getting right."

"I have missed a step," he said simply.

"Yes, a missed step. What step have you missed?"

"I never..."

"... and they'll continue singing it forever..," a voice sang quietly.

"If you don't shut your trap right now, I swear I'm going to wrap Blaine's IV around your throat and strangle you," an irritated voice interrupted.

Blaine's eyes shot open. No! Not now, not when he was about to get answers!

"Hey man, it's good to see those eyes of yours open," Wes said.

"Thanks," Blaine said, his heart aching at the missed opportunity. Tears burned at his eyes at the unfairness of it all. He'd been so close. He breathed deeply to make the urge to cry disappear. He couldn't afford to get stuck in the psych ward again.

"It sucks to be in the hospital, I know," David said. "But the doc said you should be able to get out of here today as long as you are feeling okay. You can break out of this joint and do anything you want. Well, not if your mom has her way. But anything is better than here, right?"

Anything he wanted to do, he mused. What did he want? He wanted to finish his session with Moira. But he didn't want to deal with the psych people and medicines they'd force on him. But if he went to visit her, he thought maybe, just maybe she could help him.

He opened his eyes and smiled with hope, determination filling him.

"There's our happy tenor," Wes said. "Want to sing a song and get that voice exercised?"

Blaine shrugged and joined them in a verse of "Beautiful Day" by U2. He grinned to himself. It just might turn out to be a beautiful day, after all. He'd have to wait and see. First step; get out of the damn hospital. Second step; bypass the folks and get back here to see Moira.