With a final wipe, Cameron sat back on his haunches and admired the silver basin. It was sparkling and clean once more, like it hadn't just been used for seven ruptures since dawn. Cameron yawned, tossed his dirty rag into the trash bin, and stood up. Fridays were usually long, grueling days filled with at least a handful of ruptures, but sometimes more than a dozen. He stretched languidly and dragged himself over to his desk, slumping down with another yawn. It was still early, just a little after one, but he was exhausted. Or at least he thought he was. Cameron knew he couldn't actually really be tired in the Between, but he still liked to give in to the feeling ever now and again.

He adjusted his desk chair, grabbed his now cold cup of coffee and took a gulp. Grimacing at the taste, Cameron set it back down, opened his monitor and made sure his last rupture had registered. Sure enough, Gunther had made it back to Columbus just fine. It was his first official mission on his own, and Cameron had a lot of reservations about how well he would do.

Instead of dwelling on Gunther's first mission, Cameron closed out of his file and clicked over to the ones he'd opened this morning but hadn't had a chance to look at yet.

First he opened Cooper's, saw nothing new, but opened the Timestream for a glimpse at his oldest grandson. It took a few seconds, but he finally got a picture on screen of a fuzzy, plain bedroom. An elderly man was curled up on the room's only twin bed, sleeping fitfully. Cameron watched Cooper toss and turn for several minutes. It was still so bizarre for him to see Cooper as an old man, even older than he himself had been. At least Cooper hadn't lost his hair. If there was one thing Cameron was glad he hadn't lived long enough for, it was losing all of his hair. His hairline had already receded enough in the last few years of his life.

After watching Cooper sleep restlessly for a few minutes longer, Cameron closed the Timestream, and clicked out of his file. He hated that there was nothing he could do to help Cooper or take back everything he'd said and done so long ago. There was no returning to the past, but that didn't mean he still couldn't make things right.

He flipped over to Blaine's file, and opened a Timestream into his. When he was immediately given a visual of Blaine sitting on the floor outside of a hospital room Cameron wasn't surprised in the slightest. Last week Burt Hummel's file had alerted him of the inevitable heart attack that was slowly creeping nearer. He'd hoped it wouldn't be so soon, but he could imagine that Kurt's reaction had been less than stellar when it came to Blaine being present. Frowning, Cameron flipped over to Burt's file and read through what had happened earlier that morning, then switched to Kurt's and read how he'd found out and why Blaine was sitting on the floor outside of the hospital room, looking miserable.

When he'd read through it all and had switched back to Blaine's Timestream he found Carole and her son with Blaine. Finn hoisted Blaine up off the floor and Carole drew him into a tentative hug. They spoke to each other for a few minutes, words Cameron couldn't hear, then Finn took Blaine down the hall and Carole knocked and went into the room.

Cameron shut the Timestream off after that. It was going to be a rough few weeks for all of them. Even he didn't know the extent of Burt's fate at the moment. For now it was largely up in the air and unfortunately depended on Kurt and Blaine. If Kurt kept shutting Blaine out, and Cameron didn't think he would, but if he did, then Blaine wouldn't be the only person Kurt lost in June. The boy was hurting right now, but once he came to his senses he'd let Blaine back in.

He was just about to close out of Blaine's file when he realized it was glowing faintly. Surprised, he clicked the edge and it zoomed down and stopped on romantic interests. Cameron couldn't help but smile when he saw Kurt Hummel's name listed under the heading. Blaine was so much like him sometimes, it scared him. The boy fell just as fast and just as hard as Cameron always did.

Still smiling, he closed out of the file and started shutting his system down.

They would be all right. If Blaine was already falling in love, then he wasn't going to leave Kurt's side for a minute. Even if he hadn't already been falling, Blaine wouldn't leave. He was nothing if not an attentive friend and agent. It was one thing Blaine had somehow managed to instill in a number of Cameron's other agents over the years, even as they'd come and gone.

Natasha, one of Cameron's first agents, had learned it before Cameron had arrived in the Between. She'd done her last mission under him. Cameron hadn't liked it at all, but the woman had been spunky and a great, caring person. The only thing he hadn't liked about her at the time had been her homosexuality. She'd been the first to really start teaching him how little it mattered. And just like Blaine, she was always there for the person she went back for. She hadn't left the other woman's side despite barely knowing her or the fact that she'd had advanced brain cancer.

Countless others had learned the same skill from watching Blaine. For some it was more instinctual, but for others it had been a huge step in getting to their own Beyonds. Learning to be a constant and caring presence, but more importantly being open enough to truly help people was something a number of people had said they'd learned from Blaine. Even in the early years, Cameron had believed it, but he'd refused to acknowledge it or anything positive about any of his agents for a long time.

He glanced at the screen once more, now dim and blank. Kurt would pull through this, one way or another, because Blaine was there. He was always where he was needed most and even if Kurt wanted to shut the other boy out, he wouldn't be able to. Even when you didn't want Blaine around, he was still there, patient and waiting and hopeful.

The room he woke up in was dim and smelled musty. Cameron groaned and blinked his eyes once more, trying to keep himself awake and to figure out where he was. He'd fallen down in his living room on his way out to work, and now he was... somewhere else. Somewhere dark and not familiar.

After a few more minutes of struggling, he sat up some and looked around. It was an old bedroom certainly, with pealing, torn baseball wallpaper. Something about it was familiar, but without any furniture he couldn't place it.

"Oh, good, you're finally awake."

The voice grated on his nerves like a sander. It wasn't possible. Blaine was dead; had died years ago.

A young man kneeled down in front of him, glancing around in surprise at what he saw.

"Is this really what my room looks like now or are you just projecting?"

He reached out to touch Cameron, but Cameron jerked away immediately. How dare he try to taint him, if this boy even was his grandson. He must be, because he was right. The wallpaper falling down around them was the same that had hung in Blaine's bedroom from the time he turned four until now. He'd fallen this morning, his heart aching and feeling like it was collapsing in on itself. He must have died. He swallowed uncomfortably at the thought and glanced around once more. If he was dead and Blaine was here then...

"I'm in Hell," he said in disbelief.

Blaine laughed derisively and shook his head. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am," Cameron insisted snidely. "If you're here, then this is Hell. Homosexuals go to Hell for their sins."

Once more, Blaine shook his head. "No," he laughed, smiling slightly. The easy brush off surprised Cameron. This wasn't his grandson. Not the one he'd lost so long ago at least. "This is the Between. It's– there's a lot to explain, but that's Thomas's job. I'm just your welcome wagon."

Cameron shot the boy a dubious look and stood up. He dusted his suit off and straightened everything out before looking up at Blaine again. For some reason the boy was still smiling slightly, no teeth like Cameron remembered, but there was a patience and undeniable hope in his eyes that even Cameron couldn't miss.

"Have you given up on your chosen lifestyle?" Cameron asked in clipped tones as Blaine stepped back towards the door to the bedroom.

"My– Grandfather, I'm gay. It's nothing I've ever chosen or will ever deny," Blaine said flatly, the smile slipping from his face.

Cameron snorted in disbelief and stepped towards the door. He had no idea where it led, but it was the only way out of this room. Now that he knew whose room it was, he had no interest in staying.

"I wish you wouldn't lie to yourself about such things," he remarked as Blaine pushed the door open. "You've got the devil inside of you, Blaine. It's such a shame."

"I– just come on. Thomas is waiting for you," Blaine said bitterly. It was almost as if Blaine had expected a different reaction. "He'll tell you everything you need to know."

Blaine waited until he passed through the doorway before following him.

Cameron swallowed and shook the memory off. He'd been such an ass to his grandson in those first years here, but not nearly as much as he had been during Blaine's last year of life. The thought of how callous and cruel he'd been for so long still plagued him, still made his stomach twist into knot after knot until he was certain his insides were just a long, tangled rope.

It was only now, years – decades – later, that Cameron was finally ready to rehash things, to work through all the pain he'd caused and mend the relationships he'd tossed aside so carelessly. Like Blaine had been there for him, Cameron swore he would be there at the end of all of this, no matter what the outcome was. If there was one thing he'd learned from Blaine, it was to always be there for the people you cared about no matter what.

Kurt couldn't remember how he got back to his house and down to his room. The noises and footsteps over his head made him assume Carole and Finn were here, but he didn't care in the slightest. His dad was in the hospital. He might never wake up. The thought settled in his squirming stomach with the weight of a bowling ball as he shifted on his bed, drawing his knees up higher. Kurt clutched his pillow between his arms and buried his face against the soft, red fabric.

The whole day had been a blur. One second he'd been in class and, what felt like the next, he'd been dumped here in his room. Overhead, Finn's thunderous footsteps trampled from the living room and faded away towards the bathroom. If he shut his eyes Kurt could easily imagine his father's voice hollering after him to stop pretending to be a herd of elephants. Stomach tight, Kurt bit his pillow and tried his best to muffle the choked sob clawing its way up his throat.

And worse of all was how badly he wanted to sink into Blaine's arms and forget the whole day had happened.

Blaine had to have known what was going to happen. He was dead after all. In Kurt's mind he should be aware of other people's impending deaths and near death experiences. Kurt hadn't seen him since he'd come out of his father's hospital room, and as much as he ached to be hugged and held, he wasn't sure if he wanted to see Blaine. The image of the other boy's heartbroken face bloomed painfully before his eyes at the accusations he'd thrown out.

Even if Blaine had known, what could he have possibly done to prevent this? Telling him sooner, telling Burt beforehand, might not have made a lot of difference, would it?

Kurt didn't know. He sniffled, wiped his eyes on his pillow, and stared around his dim room. The sun had sunk out of reach of his basement bedroom's windows and the lights were still off. It was ridiculous how little the room had changed when everything else he'd thought was stationary and set in his life had. His desk was still a mess – the only part of his room that ever was – piled high with various ties and bow ties and ascots he'd started hand-making for himself (and Blaine)a few weeks ago. There was a stack of Vogues he'd dug up from the various corners and shelves in his room so that he could show Blaine everything he'd been missing since his last trip here. Draped over the back of the chair were several polos and sweaters Kurt had dug out of his closet, thinking Blaine might like them since Kurt had no use for them. They were either too small or not his style. Old gifts from his grandmothers and his mother's sister who had never really understand his tastes in fashion, but had tried to appease him nevertheless.

Every little nuance or pop of interest in his room reminded Kurt of Blaine. The magazines were for Blaine, a number of the ties were, and the empty slots on his bookcase were a reminder of the dozen books he'd forced Blaine to read while he was here. Even Blaine's scent lingered in the room, particularly around the foot of the bed where he usually flopped down. It was warm and sweet like cinnamon, something Kurt always thought fondly of because his mother had made the best homemade cinnamon rolls every Saturday morning until she couldn't any longer.

Miserable, Kurt stared up at the ceiling and listened to Finn's footsteps, slower and softer now that his bladder wasn't in urgent need of release, patter over to the kitchen. Carole was in there. Her light footfalls kept making the floor creak every few minutes as she prepared something for dinner. Kurt couldn't even fathom the idea of eating right now. Finn would probably be the only one who touched it.

For a long time Kurt laid there, letting his tears dry as he listened to the television echo down and Finn's footsteps going back and forth from the kitchen to the living room. He didn't want to go upstairs. Going upstairs meant seeing them and seeing them made everything real again. If he stayed down here, he could just forget all of today had happened; that instead of waiting for news from the hospital, he was waiting for his dad to get home from closing the shop.

"Kurt, dinner will be ready soon if you're hungry," Carole hollered down to him. Her voice was feeble and hoarse. It lacked all of the motherly tones he'd grown so used to hearing in the past year. Instead of answering, Kurt rolled back over and buried his face in his pillow, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart or the dull throb behind his eyes.

The smell of something Kurt would have normally called delicious wafted down the stairs to him; just the scent made him feel nauseous. He couldn't eat, especially not tonight. Tonight was Family dinner night and his dad wasn't here to share that. His dad might never be here for that again. Kurt squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could and drew in a shaky breath that rushed back out and nearly choked him. Breaths stuttering, Kurt gripped his pillow and tried to focus on anything he could think of, but the only thing that came to mind was his dad.

"Kurt?"

A firm hand gripped his shoulder and eased him away from his pillow. Through his tears, Kurt saw Blaine, a tray of food in hand and an uncertain look on his face.

"I– Carole wanted me to bring you something to eat, but–"

Another gasping breath ripped out of Kurt's lungs and Blaine set the tray down and quickly sat Kurt up and settled his trembling body back against his chest. Kurt's breaths grew quicker as Blaine's arms looped gently around him and Blaine's chin hooked over his shoulder.

"Shh, deep breaths, Kurt," Blaine murmured, one hand working its way into his hair and massaging his scalp while the other rubbed gently over Kurt's chest. "Focus on even breaths, okay? Follow mine."

Kurt choked again, but Blaine was there making soothing sounds next to his ear and holding him back against his chest. He could feel the steady, slightly elevated thump of Blaine's heart beating against his back, could feel the exaggerated slowness of his breathing as Blaine kept murmuring against his ear. It took Kurt a few moments to listen and process Blaine's words – focus on my breathing, Kurt. Follow me – before he started to react. Eyes still shut, Kurt tried to control his spastic breaths, inhaling sharply and deeply and then releasing as he felt Blaine do the same.

"There," Blaine whispered, hand still stroking through Kurt's hair. "That's great; just keep breathing with me, okay?"

Too shaky to nod, Kurt focused on a second deep, even breath and felt his stomach unclench some as he released it. They sat like that for several minutes as Kurt's breathing evened out and his muscles relaxed. Eventually, Kurt sunk back into Blaine's embrace, feeling weak and clammy as Blaine squeezed him a little and pressed a warm kiss to his temple. Kurt shivered at the gesture, his stomach re-knotting from the little spark that tingled across his skin from Blaine's lips. Nothing had ever felt as pleasant and warm as sitting here in Blaine's embrace.

"Are you all right?" Blaine asked.

Kurt bit his lip and took another deep breath. He felt a little better than he had, but now that he could breathe again, his thoughts were quickly drifting back to his dad, and, more importantly, what he thought Blaine's connection to his dad was.

He shrugged and wiped at his eyes again. What could he say that wouldn't sound like another accusation?

"I– I know you're mad at me, Kurt," Blaine began quietly. "I get why, too, okay? You've got every reason to think t- that I'm here to... for that. But I'm not lying to you when I say I don't know if I am or not. I just... I don't know any more than you do about what's going to happen. If I did there'd be no reason for me to be here for you at all."

Kurt swallowed and shrugged out of Blaine's arms a little. There was still so much he didn't know about Blaine and the Between or how people got there. The thought of Blaine having to take his dad back with him made him want to vomit.

"But what if you do?" Kurt demanded, voice weak and watery. "What if you are here to take him back with you in June? How can I just l- let that– isn't there something that could stop that or–"

Blaine shifted to stare at him and for the first time since Blaine had returned to Kurt's life, he looked just as young and scared as Kurt felt. He really didn't know any better than Kurt, but the idea of such a possibility terrified him, too. Face pale and jaw working nervously, Blaine opened his mouth, then close it. It was a few minutes before he spoke again, and for Kurt it was the longest few minutes of his life. Even longer than the car ride to the hospital had been that morning.

"If that's part of what I end up being here for... then I'm going to do that, Kurt. There's no way around it. If you dad is... if he's supposed to go with me, then I can't stop that or refuse to take him," Blaine said carefully. "I don't want to, and I'll help you do anything to wake him up and get him better again, but if he does go with me in June, then I'm going to be there for him. If he's going to die and go to the Between, I'd rather be there to guide him, instead of making him struggle through that by himself."

His answer wasn't what Kurt wanted to hear. He wanted Blaine to magically pull a cure for comas out of his back pocket and hand it over to Kurt, or to give him a fancy time machine to go back and make sure his dad was at the hospital that morning when his heart attack had occurred. For a moment, Kurt hated Blaine's honesty and the truth he represented. His dad could end up like Blaine was now: not really living, just a very realistic ghost, haunting his old life because he couldn't move on from it.

"I know that's not what you want to hear," Blaine said softly when Kurt remained quiet. "It's not what I want to say, but it's the truth. I never expected this to happen, and I'm so sorry it did, but Kurt, please, don't shut me out. Or Carole or Finn or anyone else. Your dad wouldn't want that."

"He wouldn't want to die or be in a coma either," Kurt snapped viciously before he could stop himself.

Blaine flinched and stared down at his lap helplessly. Kurt felt guilty almost immediately, but bit his tongue. Nothing felt right anymore. Not his house or his dad or Blaine or himself. It was like his entire life had been stuffed into one of those stupid plastic hamster balls and now it was being rolled down a flight of uneven and never-ending stairs.

A pair of gentle hands cupped his face. Kurt felt Blaine's thumbs brush his tears away; he hadn't even realized he was crying again, but Blaine had. For a few seconds, Kurt weakly tried to fight against Blaine's embrace and the tear ripping his chest apart, but Blaine's arms curled around him and held him tightly. With a harsh, blubbering sob, Kurt clutched Blaine as his body shook and his sobs returned, more gut-wrenching and echoing than before.

"Shh, I've got you," Blaine murmured. Kurt felt himself being scooped up against Blaine and then shifted until they were lying back on the bed. He curled himself tightly around Blaine and cried until he was exhausted. The last thing he remembered before he drifted off to sleep was the gentle brush of Blaine's thumb over his cheek and the press of Blaine's jaw against his nose.