On the last day before Winter Break started, Kurt headed back to school. He was still sniffling, the skin between his nose and upper lip dry and sore from being rubbed clean so much, but his fever was gone and he could walk and focus.

Kurt breezed through the side entrance into McKinley and headed down towards his locker. The halls were relatively empty at twenty to eight, a few teachers were in sight with arms full of bags, coffee, and piles of papers; a janitor lingered down by the bathrooms with his cleaning cart. Arriving early when he was still not entirely healthy was crucial. Getting pinned against a row of lockers or tossed in a dumpster wasn't something Kurt wanted to deal with right now. Just avoiding the jocks in the halls would be difficult enough. With any luck, most of them would already be gone on holiday. A lot of people skipped half days.

"You're here early."

Mercedes fell into step beside him, smiling brightly and pressing her palm against his forehead.

"I'm better, I promise," he said immediately, batting her hand away and grimacing. After a week of people putting their hands on his forehead, Kurt wasn't having anymore of it. The next one was getting chewed off at the wrist. "I'm mostly just here to turn all of this in." Kurt yanked the thick folder of make-up work out of his bag and waved it at her.

She made a face, shoving the pile away until Kurt stuffed it back in his bag. "Ugh, don't remind me of all the work I've had to do without you for the past week. "

"It wasn't that much," Kurt said. "How's Glee been? Blaine refused to talk about it while I was sick."

"And for good reason," Mercedes practically snarled. "If Rachel Berry gets her diva on in my face one more time–"

Kurt smiled slightly as Mercedes took off, talking loud and fast over every little tantrum and obnoxious thing Rachel had done in the past week. It was an enjoyable morning with Mercedes catching him up through long notes during their first two classes. The only problem Kurt found was Blaine's unexpected absence, but perhaps Blaine has assumed he'd stay home again instead. It was a short day since it was the last day before break. Coming in to school was almost pointless except for turning his assignments in and collecting on a few others.

Kurt left Mercedes after second block and headed towards lunch by himself. Normally, he had his even block lunch with Blaine and Sam, but when he arrived in the lunch room Sam was absent, too. Disappointed, Kurt grabbed a cheeseburger and fries, opted for a slice of a questionable looking holiday cheesecake and hunkered down in the corner for his solitary lunch.

"Look who's back," a voice hollered. A tray clattered down at the end of Kurt's table as he glanced up. Azimio and Karofsky were standing there, eyes glinting as they looked him over. "Finally showing symptoms for your disease."

Kurt glared at Karofsky as the two jocks high-fived. "Another year or so and I'll be all caught up with how long you've been showing symptoms," Kurt remarked flippantly. "Oh wait, that's only if you get your head out of your–"

But his sentence was cut off by Karofsky lunging on the first remark. If Azimio hadn't been there holding him back, Kurt would have found himself flat on his back with a fist pounding into his face.

"Whoa, man!" Azimio hollered as Karofsky spat and growled in rage. "You want to get suspended right before Christmas?"

Kurt watched in alarm as Karofsky yanked himself free from Azimio's grip and gave Kurt a furious, almost frightened, look before he bolted from the room. Azimio grabbed his tray, gave the door a funny, confused look and walked away.

Heart pounding from the confrontation, Kurt stared at the door where Karofsky had disappeared, too. He'd never seen the other boy react like that to one of his insults, but Kurt had never been brave enough to imply what he just had. It almost like he'd hit a sensitive, hidden nerve with the remark, but that was ridiculous. That would mean Karofsky was in the closet and if there was one thing Kurt knew from the other boy's wardrobe, it was that he was straighter than a flag pole.

"Kurt!"

With another jolt, Kurt upset his lunch tray as Sam flung himself down on the bench across from him. Furious, he watched his cheeseburger slip off the table, layer of delicious layer, until someone else flopped down beside him. His cheesecake had skidded across the table and clattered to the floor.

"You just ruined my cheese–"

"Hi 'urt." Blaine gave a huge snort, rubbed his nose, and cleared his throat.

"He's got what you–"

"I'm 'ot 'ick," Blaine mumbled, giving another absolutely miserable sounding snort. "I can't 'et 'ick, 'am."

Sam rolled his eyes and folded his arms on the table, giving Kurt a sharp look. "Tell him he's sick and needs to get his ass home. I can't work with this." He gestured vaguely at Blaine, who sneezed so hard he almost toppled backwards off the bench. Sam caught him and kept him upright.

"Blaine," Kurt began, looking him over and trying not to voice his surprise. Blaine had said it was impossible for him to get sick, but there was no denying what was right in front of him. Red nose, sweat lining his brow and loosening the gel in his hair, a miserable wilt to his shoulders; Blaine was sicker than Kurt had been.

"I am not–"

"You are," Kurt cut in, feeling a little more empowered by Sam's supportive nod. "Come on. The day's almost over anyway. I'll just turn these last assignments in and take you home."

"But–"

"Shut up and listen to your boyfriend," Sam snapped, nudging Blaine like he normally did, but the touch sent Blaine careening off the bench again. Kurt didn't even bother correcting Sam. "Watch it!"

Sam hoisted Blaine to his feet and the three of them dumped Kurt's ruined lunch and headed upstairs. After a quick stop by his last class, where he turned in his assignments and said he still wasn't feeling well and was heading home, Sam and Kurt half dragged Blaine out to Kurt's Navigator and buckled him in.

"He's worse off than I was," Kurt admitted, watching Blaine sink into the passenger seat and shut his eyes.

"He threw up twice already," Sam informed him with a grimace. "Was worse than this one time Stevie barfed up half a bag of Cheetos on me. He could barely keep his face in the toilet, he's so exhausted."

Kurt wrinkled his nose and nodded for Sam to hop in the backseat for the drive to his house. Blaine threw up again halfway to Kurt's house, Sam forcing his head out the window into the chilly December wind. Too busy shouting at Sam to stop shoving Blaine's head out the window, Kurt didn't manage to pull over until Blaine's stomach was spent again.

"Sorry, I was just trying to save your windshield," Sam griped, ducking another swipe of Kurt's arm into the backseat.

"You could have broken his neck or choked him," Kurt snapped angrily. He leaned over as Blaine hugged himself tightly, hands cupping his elbows, and wiped Blaine's mouth with his sleeve. "Blaine, are you okay?"

"F- fine," Blaine mumbled shakily. "Sorry, 'idn't mean to get 'ick."

"Hey, no," Kurt murmured. He glanced in the backseat at Sam's concerned face before leaning in and pressed a soft kiss to Blaine's temple. It was like pressing his lips into a pit of lava. "It's not your fault. We're going to take you to my house and Carole will make you feel better soon, okay?"

"You make me feel better," Blaine answered quietly.

Kurt pulled back and started the Navigator again. He ignroed the enormous grin Sam was flashing him in the rearview mirror. As Blaine slumped back over and dozed off, Kurt glared at him and turned onto the next street.

"Shut up," he snapped as Sam grinned wider and made kissy faces at him.

"Should I hop out and leave you two lovebirds to it then?"

"Don't you dare, Sam Evans! You are cleaning the side of my baby when we get to my house," Kurt warned him. "I am not having frozen barf on the side of my car tomorrow morning."

They pulled into the driveway and, together, helped Blaine into the house and onto the couch. Blaine groaned and slumped down into the cushions gratefully.

"Carole?" Kurt called, taking one last look at Blaine before heading into the kitchen. Thermometer, fever reducer, something to settle Blaine's stomach. He repeated the list as he called for Carole again and wrenched open the cabinet where it was all kept.

He dug out the almost empty bottle and thermometer, then headed to the refrigerator and scooped up a bottle of water. After a second of hesitation he grabbed a container of yogurt and a spoon. When he was younger his mother had always given him spoonfuls of yogurt to help calm his tummy down when it was upset.

Back in the living room, Sam had turned the television on and Blaine was curled up and shivering.

"Blaine, put this under your tongue," Kurt requested, turning the digital thermometer on and pressing the tip against Blaine's lips. Blaine accepted it after a moment, dry lips cracking as he parted them. "Carole?" he called for a third time.

"I don't think she's here," Sam said nervously. He plopped down on the coffee table and looked Blaine over. "He looks worse than he did. What's the yogurt for?"

"To settle his stomach so he can keep the pills down," Kurt said. He glanced at the stairs again, ready to give up his frantic shouts when Carole's voice carried down the stairs, growing louder with her footsteps.

"I'm coming," she called. "This better be important. I was in the middle of a bath."

Carole froze at the bottom landing, glancing in and catching sight of Blaine curled up on the couch.

"Did he have another flashback?" she asked immediately, coming up and tightening the tie on her bathrobe.

"No, he–Carole, he's sick," Kurt said carefully, glancing pointedly at Sam. The thermometer beeped and Kurt tugged it from Blaine's slack lips. "One hundred and three point eight."

"Poor thing," Carole said gently, sweeping Blaine's sweaty hair back and taking the thermometer from Kurt. She glanced at the yogurt cup as Kurt opened it. "Upset stomach, too?"

Kurt nodded as Carole sat him up and Sam poked him.

"Wake up, Blaine," Sam encouraged as Carole propped him up. "Kurt's gonna feed you some awesome yogurt and then they're gonna make you take some fever killing pills, man. Up and at it."

Blaine gave a small whimper, but let Carole arrange him and Sam nudge him awake. Kurt started feeding him, just a few spoonfuls and a few sips of water at first. When it became obvious that it was helping, and Blaine perked up a little more, Kurt fed him a little more, then gave him the last two fever reducers.

"We'll have to get more," Carole mentioned. "I'm going to go finish showering. Sam, grab the trash bin out of the bathroom in case he gets sick again. Kurt, could you go to the store and buy more medicine for him?"

Kurt agreed as Sam took on a few more tasks Carole assigned him, telling him where Blaine's pajamas were and that Burt's collection of action movies was buried upstairs. The two separated at the stairs, Carole to finish dressing and Sam to collect the trash can. Kurt smiled and stayed where he was on the edge of the couch, easing Blaine back down. He was already asleep again, hopefully for the rest of the evening until his fever dulled a little.

Kurt couldn't explain why Blaine had caught his sickness or what any of it meant. Maybe Blaine would have a few ideas once he was more alert. Either way, it worried Kurt. Blaine hadn't so much as coughed in the past three months. No snorts or runny noses, not even when the temperature had plummeted and everyone else around him had gotten colds from the abrupt shift.

"I hope this means something good and not something bad," Kurt murmured as he brushed Blaine's curls back. For a second he hesitated, but then leaned down and pressed another kiss to Blaine's forehead. It was still burning. He might not be able to have another real kiss, but he could at least have little friendly ones like that. Even Blaine had allowed himself that much last week when he'd been sick.

It had started with Carole texting him, one after another in her usual broken texts, riddled with typos and corrections and something about someone being sick. At first Burt had assumed Kurt had had a little relapse, but then Blaine's name had cropped up and Burt had started to get confused. Kurt had started texting then, asking him which fever reducers worked best because he was at the drugstore looking. Nobody seemed to know how to answer his questions either, so by the time Burt stepped through the front door he fully expected to find everyone in clown suits dancing with hula hoops in some archaic ritual to cure the flu.

Instead, and to his great relief, Burt found Blaine asleep on the couch, forehead glistening with sweat and cheeks the dull color of plywood. There was a small trash can next to the couch and Sam and Kurt on the floor beside it, the television turned down low as they watched something Kurt didn't seem to be enjoying.

"But why does everyone have a gun? This is so stupid," Kurt complained. "Guns can't make up for plot, Sam."

"But look at those bullet holes," Sam insisted, jabbing his finger towards the screen. When Kurt still stared blankly at him, Sam breathed out sharply through his nose and rolled his eyes. "This is so much better with Blaine. He gets more excited by the special effects than Stevie."

"That's just because Blaine's never–"

"What are you boys watching?" Burt interrupted before Kurt could say something that would be difficult to explain away. Maybe Blaine wasn't the only one sporting a fever. He ducked down and pressed his palm to Kurt's forehead.

"Dad," Kurt whined, swatting him away. "I'm not the one with a fever anymore," he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder to where Blaine was buried under his blankets. "Blaine caught it."

Eyebrows raised at the significant look Kurt shot him, Burt sat down carefully on the couch by Blaine's knees. It creaked and dipped under his weight but Blaine didn't even twitch in his sleep.

"You give him any medicine?" Burt asked as he swept Blaine's damp curls back and pressed his hand to his forehead instead. It was hot despite the chilled sweat soaking into Blaine's skin.

Kurt nodded and twisted around to watch him. "Yeah, a few hours ago. It's helped a little," he said. "He's not throwing up anymore either."

"Hmm," Burt mumbled, trying to decide on the best course of action for the night. It was quite a surprise to find Blaine sick after every assurance Burt had heard that he couldn't catch what Kurt had. Either Blaine had been lying or wrong because there was nothing else this fever could be. "Sam, you head on home after the movie's done, okay? We've gotta figure out where Blaine's staying if he stays here tonight."

After Sam agreed, Burt shuffled off to the kitchen where Carole was finishing up whatever was going in the oven for dinner.

"He's still burning up?" she asked instead of stepping into his arms and kissing him like she normally did.

Burt nodded and unzipped the top of his jumpsuit a little more. "Hotter than it is under a car that's been running for four hours," he acknowledged. "Do you think–"

"Think there's more to him being sick than just catching what Kurt had?" Carole supplied, looking worried. "Maybe. I don't know. He was so adamant about not being able to catch anything because his body isn't fully alive, but if that's true and he is sick then maybe there's something we're all missing."

Burt stayed silent as she shut the casserole into the oven and looked towards the living room. He didn't know what to think, but there was obviously something not right about all of this. Either Blaine was wrong or something else was at work here that even Blaine, with fifty years of afterlife knowledge, couldn't explain or predict.

"Blaine'll probably have an answer or idea once he's more alert," Burt said hopefully. "I hope so. Maybe he'll just tell us he was lying so he could keep by Kurt's side," he added with a light laugh. "He's so in love with him it's almost painful to look at."

"It's painful to think about," Carole said quietly, finally stepping into his arms and kissing his cheek. "It makes my heart ache to think about everything and nothing they can have."

Burt nodded against her cheek and sighed heavily. Having everything in life he'd ever wanted right there in front of him and knowing it was all going to be gone in a matter of months had been almost impossible to face with Elizabeth. But he'd still had a chance of her getting better until those last weeks; he'd still had years to live and enjoy that happiness they'd found together. There'd constantly been hope and life coursing through all of them. It hadn't been over before it had begun like it was with Kurt and Blaine. As much as he and Carole had been telling each of them that it was just like what they'd each been through, it wasn't. There was no chance of more or years or a life together, not with a set date for when it all would collapse.

After taking a quick shower and changing into his pajamas, Burt shuffled back down to the kitchen. A delicious scent of roasted garlic, chicken, and something sweet filled the main floor. Finn had joined Kurt and Carole now, replacing Sam who had left for the night.

"Mom, I'm gonna go home and shower and stuff, okay?" Finn was saying when Burt stepped in. "Is it okay if I have Puck over? We're three weeks behind on our Call of Duty marathon."

"Say no more," Carole said, holding up a hand to halt Finn's usual video game tirade. "Order a pizza if you want. There's a few twenties in the drawer with the menus. I'll be home in a few hours after we've got Blaine settled in."

Finn nodded and hitched up his schoolbag and football gear. He gave Burt a brief hi-goodbye wave before taking off. Burt poured himself a glass of juice and dropped down in Finn's still pushed out chair as Kurt and Carole picked up their conversation. It had clearly stopped when Finn had shown up.

"We really should just explain it to Finn," Kurt said quietly as the front door snapped shut. "I mean, he's got a big mouth sometimes, but at least we won't be hiding this from him."

"Kurt, I really don't know if that's a good idea," Carole said carefully. "He's my son and I love him to death, but trying to explain this to him would be difficult, and if he did let something slip it'd be really hard to explain away. I barely believed it."

Kurt frowned like he wasn't convinced, but let the subject drop. "It's weird that he's sick after how sure he was, isn't it?"

Burt grunted in agreement and set his glass down. "Doesn't make a lick of sense to me. I guess he didn't mention any possibilities for why before he fell asleep?"

"No," Kurt muttered. "He was too busy throwing up to really say much."

"At least he's keeping the medicine down and getting some rest now," Carole said, standing up and checking the casserole in the oven. "As long as he can keep that down, we'll get that fever down in no time."

"I hope so," Kurt said quietly, looking towards the living room. "He could barely walk earlier. It was like he refused to believe it was happening, so he just kept ignoring it until it got really bad. Sam and I had to force him to leave school and come here."

"Doubt it was that much of a struggle," Burt commented with a sad smile. "He looks like... well, like death," he finished awkwardly.

Kurt paled at his words, his eyes darting back towards the living room. "What if that has something to do with it?" he whispered nervously. "He said he has to, like, die again when he leaves. What if this is part of how it happens this time?"

As Carole attempted to sooth Kurt's sudden, but understandable, worries, Burt considered the idea. Blaine had mention more than once that when he left it would appear through death. He'd go through the process of dying, or at least appearing like he was, even if he couldn't actually lose his life anymore. He'd told them briefly of a few other ways it had happened before –drowning being the most frequent – but was it possible that some sort of sickness could be the cause this time?

Burt stared over towards the living room as well, wishing his eyes could pierce through the back of the couch and into Blaine's skin to see if there was something out of place. Something that might mean long, painful months of watching Blaine deteriorate instead of a quick death in June. It was, as far as Burt knew, entirely possible for Blaine, or anyone, to drown in their own fluids. Lung cancers of one sort or another surely had the ability to do such a terrible thing to a person.

"Let's just wait and see what he thinks of it all. See how he feels in the morning," Burt suggested as Kurt hugged himself and kept his eyes glued to the couch. "Maybe he was wrong."

Or maybe he wasn't. Burt watched Kurt nodded and then retreat to the living room, where he curled up with Blaine and spent the evening watching Mary Poppins.

By dawn, Burt was up and dressed for the shop. He went downstairs to make his pot of coffee, ducking his head into the living room to see if Kurt had disobeyed his order for him to sleep in his room. But only Blaine was on the couch, snoring lightly with several goopy strings of snot running out of his nose. Burt checked his forehead, found it warm, but not scalding like it had been, and went to make his coffee. Blaine was awake when he came back, shakily rising up into a sitting position as Burt dropped down by his feet.

"How ya feeling, kiddo?" Burt greeted, taking a sip and then trading his mug for the thermometer on the table.

"Ugggh," Blaine groaned, sinking back down into the pillows and shutting his eyes.

"If you're gonna throw up aim for the trash can next to you," Burt instructed. "Here, under your tongue." Blaine did as he asked, taking the handful of tissues Burt passed him as the thermometer went off. Burt glanced at it as Blaine passed it back and gave a low whistle. "Still up there, kiddo. One hundred and two point four."

"Ugh, I feel like I'm boiling and freezing like a popsicle all at once," Blaine complained, tugging the buttons open on his pajama top and wincing as one of the buttons popped.

"Looks like you could use some new pajamas," Burt said, waking Blaine undo the rest and slip the too small top off. "I swear, you're growing as fast as Kurt."

"But I'm not supposed to," Blaine muttered. For a moment, Burt ignored the comment and folded up the damp shirt. He hadn't heard anything about that before, but from everything Blaine had said to the three of them, it certainly fit. Blaine shouldn't be sick or out growing his pajamas or any number of other things he'd done since he'd arrived.

"You're not supposed to get sick either," Burt said offhandedly. He handed Blaine a few fever reducers and watched him take them. Blaine looked terrible. Even if Burt had wanted to deny that he was sick, it wouldn't be possible. His cheeks were flushed now, all visible skin was sweaty and radiated heat in waves, and he could barely keep himself upright. "I guess you don't have any explanation for this either?"

Blaine shook his head miserably and curled himself up tighter. "I forgot how much being sick sucks," he said hoarsely.

"Well it has been about fifty years since you've had the opportunity," Burt said.

"Opportunity can't knock my way anymore," Blaine grumbled. "I don't know why it's picking this way to get to me now."

"Life just sucks sometimes, kiddo," Burt reminded him, taking another sip. "You– Kurt thinks you getting sick might have something to do with how you leave this time," he said after a moment. "Do you think that he might be right?"

Blaine shook his head once more and looked over at him. "No," he said quietly. "It's been a long time, but I still remember how the flu feels. Besides, I didn't die of cancer or anything of that sort. Even if I had a cancer or disease that would make me drown, I don't see how Time could do that so early. It doesn't usually notice until the end, when the jump starts running out. Then it boots me."

Burt nodded and patted Blaine's knee. "That's what I hoped you'd say. You want anything to eat before I go? Waffles or cereal or something?"

Blaine buried his face in his pillow and grumbled. After offering to get Blaine a few other things and to turn on the television, Burt finished up his coffee and grabbed his keys. It was worrisome that Blaine didn't have an explanation for what was happening, but he didn't seem horribly troubled by it either. Not to the degree Kurt was thinking. Burt had to agree with Blaine on this one. Blaine getting sick and dying that way would only draw more attention to his death, which seemed like the last thing the people in the Between would want to do.