Kurt couldn't remember a weekend ever lasting as long as the first one in October did. With Blaine, Finn, and Carole around, he thought it wouldn't drag so much, but the time spent at the hospital seemed to never end. There was a steady stream of doctors checking in once an hour, and nurses every thirty minutes. Carole explained everything they did after they left and even talked to a few of them that she worked with on a frequent basis. None of it made Kurt feel any better about the situation. The only thing the doctors' constant presence did was remind him of how dire everything was right now.

It all would have been completely unbearable without Blaine at his side. Blaine was patient and steady. He didn't pry or push or shove food at him like Finn. He didn't smile sadly at Kurt like Carole did or act any different than he had before his dad's heart attack. The normalcy Blaine brought was just what he needed and Kurt was incredibly grateful for it even if he didn't say so.

All weekend, they sat around Burt's room, alternating between homework and talking to Burt and each other. By the time they returned home Sunday night, Kurt's brain was filled with the steady rhythm of his father's heart monitor and Blaine's gentle, murmuring encouragement. The sounds followed him around his dreams and even to school the next morning, the blip haunting but fading thanks to Blaine's voice. As long as it remained steady in his mind, then there was no reason to worry himself. Kurt kept that mantra in his head throughout the week, ignoring the doctors concerns and everything he'd read and heard about comas that progressed past a few days. His dad's heart was recovering well and he was going to wake up. Blaine was sure of it and so was he.

By Thursday afternoon, however, Kurt's resolve to stay strong and take hope from Blaine's stance had started to waver. In another day his dad would be comatose for a full week. Despite Blaine's steady faith in Burt's recovery, Kurt couldn't ignore the doctors' words anymore. After a week, Burt's chances of ever waking up were halved.

Stiff with fear from the moment he woke up Thursday morning, Kurt let Finn drive them to school, then ran through his pre-class routine on autopilot. Kurt was halfway through switching his books out of his locker when someone stopped beside him. His first expectation was Blaine, but when he turned he was surprised to find Mercedes watching him hopefully.

"Hey, boy," she greeted, looking nervous and unsure.

"H- hey," Kurt returned, trying to smile at her. He liked her. He really did. She was a wonderful girl and so far they were getting along great, but nobody except Blaine had really spoken to him since his dad's heart attack. Kurt guessed they were all scared of setting him off or having him cry all over their horrible clothing.

"How are you?" she asked, shifting the books in her arms and smiling. "H- how's your dad doing?"

Kurt wilted at her words. "Nothing's changed," he admitted sullenly. He grabbed his history notebook from his locker and shut it. "It'll be a week tomorrow."

Mercedes bit her lip and looked him over. "Look, Kurt, I... Blaine said you weren't religious or anything and to not pester you about anything like that, but I am and I've been praying and hoping he'll get better every night. I don't want to upset you with that, but... I really hope he wakes up soon. You're one of my friends, and the only kid in this school who has an ounce of fashion sense, and I just hope he wakes up."

Kurt stared at her for a long moment. A month ago he would have snapped at her for praying for his dad. He would have brushed her off and prattled on about how God's followers told him he was going to Hell and any number of other things. But he thought about Blaine. Dead and stuck in some starved, sad half-existence until he faced his past. It was hard to say anything when he knew there was something after this world. Even Blaine didn't know what existed Beyond, only that there was something more waiting.

"Thanks," he said softly, hugging his books to his chest. "I don't really– they all say I'm going to Hell because I'm gay, but... I'm glad you care. It means a lot."

"Of course I do," she insisted, shifting her bag on her shoulder. "Is it okay if I hug you? You look like you could use one and it's either me or Rachel."

Kurt laughed a little at the last bit and gratefully accepted her tentative embrace. It wasn't like Blaine's were, but it was still warm and full of compassion. Having friends was definitely something he could get used to.

They stood and talked for a few more minutes before Blaine appeared, looking a little flushed and rumpled. Kurt's stomach plummeted at the sight because his first instinct was to think that Blaine had been stuffed in the janitor's closet with some attractive boy, just like everyone else he knew did. But that was ridiculous for any number of reasons. Blaine didn't know anyone outside of Glee Club. He was also leaving in June and wasn't here for such things, and if anybody should be doing that with Blaine, then it ought to be Kurt. Startled at his own daring thoughts, Kurt blushed as Blaine adjusted his shirt and held his books between his thighs to fix himself.

"Hey Kurt, Mercedes," he greeted, voice breathless. "Jack forgot he was supposed to drive me this morning," he added as he carefully ran a hand through his damp curls. Kurt could smell the raspberry hair gel even from a few feet away, but there wasn't nearly as much product as usual. Most of it was no doubt mixed in with the sweat trailing down Blaine's face and neck. "Had to run the whole fourteen blocks here."

Mercedes gapped at him and started helping him straighten his shirt out. She eyed the sweat stains sadly. "You probably should have brought a second shirt," she told him. "It's going to take that a while to dry."

"It's fine. I'll change and shower during Weight Lifting later," Blaine said absentmindedly, pulling his books out from between his legs and glancing over at Kurt. He smiled widely, eyes bright and sweet. Everything about Blaine was sweet; from the deep sincerity in his voice to the little bow tie Mercedes was fixing around his neck. With a gulp, Kurt looked away. He didn't understand his thoughts right now at all. "How'd you sleep?"

"Okay," Kurt answered quietly. "Not as good as Friday night," he added before he could change his mind. It was true, at least. He'd slept incredibly well tucked against Blaine's side that night. Better than he had in a very long time, if he was being honest.

Blaine nodded, his smile fading as Mercedes slid her arm through each of theirs and started leading them down the hall to their history class. While the other two talked, Kurt tried to get his stomach to start behaving. He'd always thought Blaine was handsome, even as a boy. But this was new. Something was changing and it wasn't something he needed right now. Not with his dad in the hospital and all of the worry that came with that.

For the rest of the school day, Kurt was keenly aware of the way he reacted when he was around Blaine. He was so cautious, he knew Blaine had started to notice the difference, but he hoped the other boy was just putting it down to his worries about his dad. This was different than anything Kurt had ever felt before. At least he thought it was. It wasn't like his hopeless, safe little crush on Finn last year. It wasn't even like the crushes he'd had on actors and handsome models he'd seen in his magazines. Maybe the added stress he was under was making him think his attraction to Blaine was something it wasn't. Sure he liked Blaine. That had never been a problem. But Blaine wasn't Blaine anymore. He wasn't just the childhood friend or the mentor helping him along. There was a realness to him that had never existed in Kurt's mind before. He had demons and pains and regrets and wasn't just here as Kurt's friend. Blaine was here for himself and, somehow, that made all the difference.

By the time they arrived at the hospital after Glee rehearsal, Kurt was exhausted from all of his thoughts and new worries. Blaine seemed to sense it, because his hand took Kurt's elbow and led him through the halls to his dad's room in the back corner of the seventh floor.

Doctor Rubens, one of several doctors Kurt had become familiar with over the last week, was inside the room, checking monitors and scribbling on his clipboard.

"Hello, Kurt, Blaine," he greeted kindly as he watched them duck in and drop their bags on the little table and chairs the staff had set up for them.

"How is he?" Kurt asked instantly. Blaine's hand stayed on his elbow and Kurt felt his cheeks turn pink as the other boy stepped up behind him, his other hand rubbing Kurt's shoulder gently. His entire stomach leapt and squirmed at the sensation. He was just tired and hungry. That had to be it. When Finn got here after his practice he'd let the other boy stuff him full of whatever greasy fast food he brought with him until he passed out. That would put an end to this.

"His heart's getting stronger, but I'm afraid nothing else has changed since last night," Doctor Rubens told him sadly. "He's a strong man, Kurt. For now his body's just healing up from everything as far as I can tell. It's a good sign, and I'm hopeful that we might see some changes soon once his body thinks his heart is strong enough."

Kurt nodded as Doctor Rubens finished and left. Blaine led him over to the little loveseat. It was ancient and sunk so low when they sat on it that Kurt figured they'd be better off sitting on the floor, but he didn't say anything about it. As much as he hated the ugly little sofa, he was glad he could have Blaine pressed against his side and the other boy's arm around his shoulders.

"He'll get there," Blaine's voice said simply. "Coop, my real brother, had one about ten years ago. He wasn't in a coma or anything, but he survived a triple bypass. Your dad's just as strong as him, and a hell of a lot younger. He's going to pull through this."

Kurt rubbed his eyes tiredly and nodded. Blaine had talked about Cooper a few times in recent weeks, but it was still strange to hear about a man in his seventies who was only supposed to be nine years older than Blaine.

They settled down into the creaky sofa, pulling out their history books and notebooks to work on their assignment for tomorrow morning. Blaine read aloud like Kurt enjoyed; the sound of Blaine's smooth tenor was much more relaxing than the beep of half a dozen heart monitors across the room. Burt was so tiny looking from this vantage point, lying stiff and motionless in that tangle of wires and drab hospital bedding and gown. He was nothing like the father Kurt had adored as a boy or the one he'd walked eggshells around for the past few years. It scared him to see his father like this, more like a premature newborn in an incubator than a man in his early forties.

"– Germany invaded Poland on–"

"Does it hurt?" Kurt asked suddenly, cutting through Blaine's reading on the start of the second World War.

"Does– what?" Blaine looked up from his textbook and watched Kurt carefully. Immediately, Kurt could tell he knew exactly what was being asked, but he seemed incredibly hesitant to answer it.

"Dying," Kurt elaborated more weakly. He felt nervous all of a sudden, like a lake normally stagnant and soft was suddenly bubbling and frothing onto the shore around it. "Does it– did it hurt when you died? I mean, like, not the b- before," Kurt winced at how thoughtless he sounded. Of course that part had hurt. What had happened to Blaine had no doubt been worse than any pain Kurt would ever feel in his life. "Like when you're actually slipping away does it hurt to... go?"

His eyes fell on his dad's silent form in the bed across the room. Blaine's gaze followed his before it returned to the textbook in his lap. He closed it gently and set it aside.

"At first it does," Blaine said slowly, voice tight. "That might just be because of how I... well, you know. Then you kind of start seeing things," Blaine continued, eyes distant. "Remembering things, memories that are yours and others that aren't. It's like Time unwinds, unravels and sucks you more deeply into it before it just collapses and forces you out forever. You're not part of its progression anymore, so you seeing any part of it doesn't matter. You don't matter anymore. You're an empty shell that's lost all purpose except the little bit you can find for yourself."

The sharp bitterness in Blaine's words zapped through Kurt like electricity. That was nothing like he'd been imagining, nothing like he wanted to experience. It wasn't the answer he'd hoped for, but at least he had Blaine's experience to understand it better. For a second, he turned away from his dad's side of the room and watched Blaine; the way his hands were twisted together and the tenseness in his jaw as he bit his lip and stared down at his knees. There was so much longing and regret in Blaine that it terrified Kurt to realize he might have to unbury it to help Blaine the way Blaine was helping him. Opening all of that back up after fifty years of bitterness and regrets was like erupting a dormant volcano and expecting only a few puffs of smoke.

"That sounds scary," Kurt whispered, pulling his legs up onto the couch and tucking them under him.

"It's not," Blaine assured him. "I mean, while it's happening you don't really understand any of it and I was so out of it already because of what happened that I just thought I was hallucinating."

Kurt hugged himself and tentatively rested his head on Blaine's shoulder. He felt Blaine relax some from the contact and, as Blaine's head tilted onto his, Kurt bit his lip and slowly eased one hand into one of Blaine's and then the other up into Blaine's curls where he started to slowly stroke his scalp. It wasn't something he'd ever done before, but it felt right. Blaine hummed happily as Kurt's fingers rubbed and he melted down against Kurt like honey.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that so soon," Kurt said quietly as Blaine relaxed against him. "It's not fair that you lost everything before you really had it."

"Life wasn't meant to be fair," Blaine remarked bitterly. "That's what my grandfather always told me as a kid. At least he doesn't say it anymore. I guess he doesn't want to hear it now that he's stuck, too."

Startled, Kurt sat up a little, his hand slipping from Blaine's curls. "Your grandfather's in the Between?"

Blaine nodded and shrugged. "He's been there for a while, but we don't really get along, you know? He stopped caring about me once I came out. Having a gay grandson didn't really fit into his life."

His words surprised Kurt, but he didn't say anything as he sunk back down beside Blaine. There had to be a reason Blaine's apparently homophobic grandfather was in the Between as well. It seemed odd that the two were there together unless there was a connection.

As they sat in silence for several more minutes, Kurt let his mind wander back through the day. It had felt a lot longer than it had actually been. Between Mercedes bringing herself into his life and then Rachel hounding him to sing a sad duet about his father's situation to help him feel better the day had never seemed to end.

"Blaine," Kurt said, "can I ask you something else?"

"Sure."

"Do you believe in God?" he asked, thinking about Mercedes and her prayers. Surely there had to be a logical reason so many people believed in such a being. Perhaps Blaine could enlighten him on if there was a reason to have such hopes.

"I– when I was growing up I was raised Catholic," Blaine confessed. "I just believed what I was told for a long time until I figured out I was gay. Then I started questioning a lot of things. At this point, I honestly don't. I've never seen a god or God. I think there's something out there, but I don't know if it's an actual, conscious being. The closest I've ever encountered is Time, but anything could be Beyond, I guess."

Kurt nodded, stomach loosening in relief. If Blaine still didn't believe after being dead for decades, then Kurt was safe. There was no reason to fret about it, and maybe in the long run it didn't matter. Why would he want to believe in someone who would smite those who didn't believe or believed in other things? That had never felt right to him considering all he'd learned about Christianity throughout his life.

"I think there're more important things than believing in a cosmic being," Blaine pondered. "Like being a good, caring person and doing something you enjoy and value with your time and life. Just because you don't fit into the boxes religions want you to or that society wants, doesn't mean you don't have merit."

"That's how I feel," Kurt confessed. "Just because I don't believe in something nobody can prove exists doesn't mean I don't have faith in something. I have faith in me and my dad and what we have. That's what's sacred to me."

"I'm glad it is," Blaine murmured. "What you and your dad have is something I always wanted with mine. Me and Coop were close, but... having that relationship with a parent is different than a brother."

Kurt sighed, eyes tearing up as he looked back over at his dad. He couldn't stand the thought of this all ending and never having his dad back. Losing his mother so young had been bad enough, but he'd still had Burt. Together, they'd pieced their lives back into some semblance of normalcy and found something really great. If he lost Burt now, Kurt would have nothing. He didn't even know where he would end up living. Carole, for all her sweetness and caring, couldn't take him in. One of his grandparents would probably do it, or his Aunt Catherine who lived in Portland.

"Is my mom there?" Kurt wondered softly, nuzzling his nose against Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine's hand squeezed his tightly. "Not that I've ever seen, but there's a lot of different areas they separate us by. I'm sure she's Beyond, especially now that you're doing so much better. She probably never even went to the Between since she found her soulmate."

"H- her soulmate?" Kurt echoed in surprise.

"Yeah, your dad was one of hers," Blaine explained. "Some people have lots, others only have one. Your dad and mom were soulmates. So were my grandparents. Someday you'll find yours, too."

"I hope so," Kurt said quietly, trying vainly to picture the man of his dreams. Only a dark, shadowy form appeared in his mind's eye. "I hope she's Beyond and it's wonderful there."

"My grandfather said it's different for everyone, but I'm sure she's at peace," Blaine decided. "I can't imagine Beyond being anything but what a person desires or needs most. For most that's just peace and contentment."

Kurt threaded his fingers back through Blaine's curls and yawned. "I hope yours is what you need," he murmured. "Even if we'll never see each other again, I hope you find peace."

"I hope so, too, but–"

Blaine paused for so long that Kurt's started to feel nervous. He could scarcely imagine having to let go of all his hopes and dreams for his life. Saying goodbye to everything he'd wanted, but never had a chance to get. New York, college, respect for his talents and ambitions, a boyfriend and eventual husband, even children some day. Letting go of so much couldn't be easy.

Blaine still wished he had all of that, that he still had his life to live and discover instead of having it ripped from him so thoughtlessly.

"If I could give you it all back, Blaine, I would," Kurt told him honestly. "I wish I could, like, take mine and share it with you or something."

Blaine's laugh was a little watery as he dropped his cheek onto Kurt's hair and slid his arm around Kurt's waist.

"If only it was that easy," Blaine said sadly. "Nothing can undo what's happened, I'm afraid."

"That doesn't mean you can't make the most of what time you've got here," Kurt reminded him, fighting down another yawn. "Nationals are in New York this year, if we make it. That's one place I know you wanted to be, and I'm sure we can find you a cute boy to go on a few dates with–"

"N- no," Blaine stammered. "God, no. I can't do that to– I'd rather never know that one," he said finally. "It'll make things easier to not know that."

Kurt frowned, but didn't reply except to yawn a third time as his eyes drooped closed. Next to him, he felt a yawn bubble in Blaine's chest as he started to drift off to sleep.

Kurt had wandered off. It was the first thing Elizabeth's sister, Catherine, told him when he arrived back at home from the hospital. He'd been saying goodbye, his own private goodbye before he let Kurt have his. He felt like vomiting, both from his son's apparent disappearance and the thought of his little boy having to say goodbye to his mother. Kurt wouldn't understand it at all, not when he was so young.

"Burt, he was just here, up in his room and–"

"He couldn't have gotten far," Catherine assured him. "I'm sure he's just down the street or in the yard. Maybe at the park," she deduced. "Elizabeth said he's missed getting to swing there since she went to the hospital."

Burt was out the door before she could finish. Of course he was at the park. Kurt had missed an entire summer of his childhood, being cooped up in doctor's offices and hospital waiting rooms and exam rooms. His son loved the park and getting outside to play when it was nice. But only when it was nice. He didn't like what humidity did to his hair or getting mud caked onto his shiny shoes that Burt didn't entirely understand the appeal of. There were a lot of things about Kurt that he didn't get, but that Elizabeth did.

"Kurt? Kurt!"

Burt raced down the street, darting across Kensington Avenue and towards the park the next block over. Kurt had to be there, he couldn't lose his little boy, too.

"Kurt?"

He skidded to a halt just inside the entrance to the park. It was deserted. Not even the swings were creaking in the breeze. Panicking, Burt grabbed his chest and felt it constrict. Something was wrong. Kurt should be here. He was supposed to be here, just like he had been all those years ago...

"Relax, Burt, he's fine," said a gentle voice from his side.

With a start, Burt spun around and found a beautiful young woman seated on a bench that overlooked the playground. Her hair was wavy and brown, her face thin and pale like porcelain, and her eyes–

"Elizabeth," Burt breathed, his chest twanging uncomfortably again as she stood and clasped his hand.

"Sit," she insisted. "Kurt's fine. He's had you this whole time, hasn't he?"

"I– he needed you, though," Burt stammered as they sat on the bench. Her hands closed around his left, massaging and rubbing the stiffness from his tendons. She always knew what he needed even before he knew how to voice it. It was one of the reasons he'd always cherished her so much. The ache in his chest eased as she smiled over at him. "I've missed you," he admitted. "God, I'd almost forgotten how much you and Kurt look alike."

"He has your spirit," she said playfully. It was an old argument, one they'd had countless times while she'd been alive. For once, Burt didn't care to argue.

"He's alone, out here somewhere and–"

"No, he's not," Elizabeth said gently. She nodded towards the swings again. "See for yourself."

Burt turned, not expecting to see anything but an empty playground. He was stunned to find his little boy there, seated in the closest swing while another boy, older and very neatly dressed, swung slowly in the other. They were talking quietly about something that looked very serious.

When he turned back to Elizabeth he was surprised to see her smiling over at the two.

"I- is that Blaine?" he asked uncertainly. There was a haziness in the air that hadn't been there the first time he'd looked. Everything seemed to being shifting and blowing now. The wind was picking up; a storm was coming.

"I told you Kurt wasn't alone," Elizabeth said smartly, teasingly. "He'll never be alone because he has Blaine."

"But he's leaving," Burt told her. "In June, he's gone."

"Real, true love never leaves us, Burt," Elizabeth reminded him. "You know that and now it's Kurt's turn to start that journey."

"Yeah, but this is different–" Burt started to insist, but she pressed a soft finger to his lips until he fell silent.

"He's grown up so much since I last saw him," Elizabeth remarked, her eyes shifting back towards the swings. Burt looked, too, and found another shock. Kurt was a teenager now, tall and thin, hair tall and styled, but Blaine was the same. They weren't swinging anymore, but laughing, water balloons in hand as Blaine leapt forward and caught Kurt around the waist. With a shout they tumbled down into the wood chips, laughing and squealing as water splashed onto Kurt's head and ruined his perfectly coiffed hair.

"He's incredible, Liz," Burt murmured. But he still didn't understand what he was seeing or why everything was becoming harder to see. It was like he was slowly going blind.

The two boys rolled about, struggling to pin the other as they laughed and smacked water balloons against the other.

"They both are," Elizabeth said, squeezing his hand tightly. Her palms were suddenly sweaty and felt different, bigger and stronger, yet still soft. Less like his wife's and more like the young man he couldn't stand to leave behind. "Together, they're going to be all they've ever dreamed of. Trust that and trust what your heart tells you, Burt. Things don't always make sense when they're happening, but hindsight can teach you so much."

"I'm not sure what–"

But she was gone when he turned back to her. The entire park was slowly being swept away from his fading vision. For a moment, he had one final glimpse of the two boys over by the swings, Blaine finally pinning Kurt down. They were still laughing, smiling at each other in a way that made Burt's heart leap into his throat until he thought he was going to choke on it. Slowly, Kurt's hand captured Blaine's jaw and, still beaming at each other, Blaine let Kurt's hand guide his mouth down to his...

Burt gave a hoarse groan as his eyes flickered open. It was dim and cold. Elizabeth's hand was still clamped around his. Or was it Elizabeth's? With a huge effort, Burt rolled his head to the left and made out a head of short brown hair next to their joint hands.

Kurt.

His son was– where were they?

He tried to speak, but his lips were cracked and dry and refused to cooperate. His eyelids sunk closed again, but he had to let Kurt know. He was here. Daddy was here and he wasn't going anywhere. Concentrating all of his energy on his left hand, Burt managed to move his fingers, flexing them until–

Kurt smacked his lips in his sleep and raised his head. His hair was a wacky mess of spikes and his entire right cheek was imprinted with the texture of the bedding. Burt worked his fingers again. Curl, uncurl.

"D- Dad?" Kurt gave a yelp as he sat up straight and squeezed Burt's hand. "Can you hear me?"

Burt tried to speak, but the only sound that came out was a weak, hoarse grunt. It was so soft he barely heard himself.

"Oh my god–"

"Kurt? I got you a coffee, too– what's going on?"

Blaine appeared behind Kurt, his face going from confused to absolute relief. The Styrofoam coffee cups splattered against the floor as Blaine raced out.

"Nurse Nancy! Doctor Rubens!"

Kurt was trembling, his grip so tight Burt could barely feel his fingers. He clumsily poured a cup of water from the pitcher left on the little tray-table beside the bed and helped Burt take a sip.

"Dad, I thought– but you're awake!"

Kurt was crying and Burt was horrible confused. His memory wasn't working, but as Blaine raced back in with a woman in a nurse's uniform he realized something horrible had happened that his mind hadn't let him catch up with yet.

"B- been taking g- good care of m'boy," Burt managed to rasp, eyes focused on Blaine standing patiently at Kurt's side.

"Always," Blaine agreed as the nurse started to examine him.

Burt remembered little of the day after that, but it was enough to know that Kurt wasn't alone. Not anymore.