It was shortly before dawn when the door to Cameron's office opened. It was Brian, one of Blaine's buddies from his hall-block, and who Cameron asked to come in this morning to help with Blaine's Rupture. Brian usually helped with Blaine's Ruptures and Blaine did the same for Brian's. Part of the Between's system was designating pairs so there was always a known and trusted assistant. In Blaine's case, Cameron would have preferred a set companion from Rupture to return since he was a minor, but Blaine had been here too long for only one person to last that long. The man masquerading as Blaine's brother for this final trip was already in the Present Lima, Ohio, starting his own mission.

"Hello, sir," Brian greeted, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking excited. Cameron was aware of the fact that Brian had heard that this was Blaine's last mission. A lot of people had heard and been to see his grandson over the last few days to wish him well and say goodbye. It was remarkable to see just how many people Blaine had connected with here in recent years. Cameron could only imagine how many times their numbers could be multiplied to encompass everyone from the last fifty years. "Is Blaine here yet?"

"No," Cameron sighed, glancing at the little clock on his desk that currently show it to be a quarter to six. "He's not set until twenty-three after; first of the morning. Should be here in about fifteen minutes if he knows what's good for him."

Brian nodded in understanding and without a word, he hurried over the chairs in the far corner, ignoring the second and focusing on adjusting the hand straps and testing them for durability. There was no need for the second chair today and Cameron hoped there wouldn't be for a long time. Brian ran over the entire system: the chair bolted to the floor, made of solid steel and burnt black from the thousands of people who had sat in it. At the foot of the chair was an odd device, the Jolter, as most of them called it. It was a small basin, just wide enough for the average human body to fall through, and was dug down into the floor. It was incredibly shallow, though, not even two inches deep and currently empty, though it would soon be filled with water. It was lined with steel and the concave dip was bare, but as he watched, Brian pulled the silver, curved plate from the rack on the wall and fitted it into the groove. Silver was their best conductor, which meant their agent would be given the most powerful jump they could offer him or her and could stay in Time longer.

Cameron watched him work as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He'd been up all night, reading through everything in Kurt Hummel's file and then Burt Hummel's, Carole Hudson's, and then Blaine's. It was all overwhelming to think that this was really it for Blaine. He was going back to make a huge difference in this boy's life once more and then...

Then he'd be Beyond and Cameron would never see Blaine again.

His heart hammered a little faster at the thought and he squeezed his eyes shut. He'd had three decades to make amends with Blaine, to tell him how much he loved and cherished him, and as usual he'd been too stubborn to say a damn word. Now it was almost too late. The clock was ticking, winding down the time until Blaine rejoined it. How was he ever going to get out everything he wanted and needed to say in twenty minutes?

To distract himself, Cameron flipped back to Blaine's file on the screen and felt his lips tug up at the picture of his grandson that greeted him. It was the last one taken of him alive, right before his first day of his junior year. Cooper was there with him, hoisting him off the ground in a ridiculous bear hug as their faces betrayed the joy and laughter the moment had captured. His oldest grandson had never been the same after Blaine's death. Cameron still checked in on him, watched the now elderly man waste away the little bit of his life that was left. He wondered if Cooper would end up here in another handful of years and then he'd have his other grandson for a while. It seemed very likely that he would, considering the miserable life Cooper had lived since 1960.

He stared long and hard at Blaine's picture, memorizing every dip and angle. Cameron would never see that face again after twenty-three past six this morning. No matter what happened, Blaine wouldn't look like that ever again.

He scrolled down through the demographics of Blaine's profile, past his full name, date of birth, height, locations, and a dozen other useless details that Cameron had never needed a file to know. Finally he stopped at one of the last markers, but the most important one of all for Blaine's last mission: Soulmate(s).

Everyone's profile had the section listed, though not everyone had a list of potential matches. For some, they were still too young for theirs to stop spinning and were instead still scrolling mindlessly, but eventually everyone's stopped, usually between fourteen and seventeen years of age. In some cases, a person could have dozens of people listed as possibilities, though the individuals could span the entirety of Time. Cameron himself had three. Two had been blacked out because they'd died and moved Beyond decades, even centuries, before he'd been born. His third had been his wife. Other people only had one, and others still had none or all of theirs were marked out by the time it stopped scrolling.

People in the Present had no inkling that such connections could exist between people. There were no physical markings or indications to help them find each other and in some cases, people never found each other. Or their soulmate in that part of Time died of their own choosing and left them without that bond.

Not everyone was allowed to view this section of their own profile. Blaine's had been locked against him for fifty years, but Cameron could access it and he knew the truth. There was only one person listed in Blaine's and he was the same boy Blaine was about to go back to help.

They were both each other's only matches and that in and of itself was remarkably rare. To Cameron, it wasn't that bizarre, considering everything he knew about his grandson and everything he'd read and seen about Kurt. They were both incredibly unique individuals, stuck in similar lives, but from different times. The fact that Blaine had lasted in the Between this long made Cameron all the more confident that, whatever happened after this morning, that Blaine and Kurt would share something special for however long they were allowed.

The door across the office was flung open a second later and Cameron closed out of the pages as Blaine came sprinting in.

"Sorry, I overslept– "

"Seriously? Why do you always waste time sleeping?"

"Well, I've gotta get used to it again, don't I?"

Cameron's gaze shot to the clock on his desk as Brian and Blaine bickered playfully. His heart tottered on the little shelf he liked to keep it on, high and back away from anything or anyone that could get onto it or even see what was resting up there. It was ten after six. Blaine had to get set up to go in thirteen minutes, and Cameron still didn't know what to say or how to even begin with his grandson. Some days he felt like he still didn't know him at all, and then others, like right now, Cameron realized it was himself he was unfamiliar with. Blaine was laid wide open, no shame or regrets on his heels or doggedly snarling in his ear. It was himself that was still so jumbled up and right now, Cameron couldn't imagine where to start sorting himself out.

"It's all set up," Brian hollered from across the room as Blaine hurried over.

For several minutes, Cameron watched in silence, swallowing the golf ball-sized lump ballooning in his throat. He had to say something, anything would do as long as he didn't leave it like this. Blaine would still be back after his time ran out, albeit briefly, but Cameron knew without a doubt he'd be an emotional wreck when that happened. Most of them were when they finally faced whatever was in their past. Now was the moment to pull him aside and say what he needed to.

But as more time ticked by, Cameron sat there, his clothes stitched into the chair's leather as Brian and Blaine checked the basin of water at the foot of the chair and the electrical charge equipment beside it. What could he say to make up for what he'd already said over fifty years ago?

"Six minutes," Brian called out, and his announcement finally spurred Cameron out of his desk chair and over to them.

"You've read everything thoroughly?" Cameron asked as Blaine settled down in the chair and slid his hands into the straps.

"Yes," Blaine answered, skimming the surface of the water with the soles of his shoes.

"And you've got all of your back stories straight?"

"Memorized them two decades ago," Blaine reminded him with a small grin. The teasing answer earned him an appreciative chuckle from Brian and a stern gaze from Cameron, who immediately wiped it off his face when he remembered that this was the last time he'd ever see Blaine like this; happy, carefree despite his baggage, and still vulnerably innocent in every other area of his life.

"And your pocket watch?" Cameron continued. Then he did something that he'd never down before, he leaned down and smoothed out the collar of Blaine's jacket where it was stuck under the strap of his backpack, straightening the little flaps until they were folded over neatly.

His grandson reacted almost instantly, jolting in surprise and then staring up at him in stunned bewilderment. Cameron never made moves to touch him, and Blaine had always followed his lead in that regard. Biting his lip, Cameron straightened it just right and bent down further.

"Your pocket watch, Blaine," he repeated.

"Wh– oh, yeah," Blaine stammered, fumbling in his pocket until he pulled the little watch out and held it up for Cameron to see. "Right here."

"Good," Cameron said, his voice starting to tremble with emotions he'd suppressed for years.

"Two minutes– "

He ignored Brian's words and dropped his hands onto his grandson's shoulders, feeling the tense surprise as their eyes, both the same shade of hazel, met. It was one of Cameron's favorite things about his youngest grandson, though he always felt petty for thinking it. It was comforting to see that resemblance to himself in Blaine. It reminded him every day of what truly mattered and always had; not how they were different, but how they were alike.

"Be safe," Cameron began, voice dropping as Brian checked dials and made a few last minute adjustments. "Most importantly, do what feels right," Cameron told him as Blaine's eyes flickered back and forth between each of his. Blaine was clearly surprised by Cameron's touch and his words, but he plowed on quickly as the buzzer on the side panel went off.

One minute before his grandson left here forever.

"Listen to your heart, okay, Blaine? Even if it seems impossible or crazy o- or like the worst idea, listen to it," Cameron murmured, not even trying to control the wavering of his voice as Blaine's brow scrunched up in confusion. Blaine still nodded as Brian hollered for Cameron to step back in order to proceed with the Rupture.

"Grandfather, I– "

But the metal of the basin turned a fiery, molten red before he could finish, and a blinding flash went off with the charge that was now surging through Blaine and shocking his body back into a frayed existence in Time.

Blaine was gone when the light faded, just a singed chair and the lingering smell of burnt fabric and that stupid raspberry hair gel he insisted on wearing left behind.

"I love you, Blaine, no matter who you love in return," Cameron whispered, not caring that Brian had obviously heard him or that Blaine was gone now.

He'd missed his last chance, and now, even when he briefly saw Blaine again when he returned, he would never be able to say what he needed to. His grandson's existence would end without him ever knowing the truth about Cameron's regret or his unwavering love for him. His own nerve had failed him all over again, and for once, Cameron didn't return to his paperwork or go back to looking through all of the upcoming cases he had to prepare. After he saw Brian from his office, he sat down where Blaine had just been, dropped his head into his shaking hands, and wept.

The electric shock shot through Blaine's limbs before he could string three words together. As everything froze around him, he saw his grandfather's expression, free from its usual callous and hard look and instead crumpled and regretful. It was bizarre to witness, even momentarily, but he was jolted from his thoughts as the charge ricocheted under his skin, tingling through every fiber, follicle, and cell until he was white-hot and felt like he'd crash landed in a supernova.

Ruptures were always like this. The sensation didn't hurt, but it still felt incredibly weird to know the feeling should be burning through his flesh and, if he'd been alive, killing him. Fortunately, death wasn't possible in the Between since everyone there had already experienced it, but the first time it had happened, Blaine had panicked so much he'd almost lost himself in the Rupture. He eased up on his hold on the straps as the light continued to build around him until it blocked out his grandfather and Brian and the room he'd done this in a hundred times before.

Any second the tug would start, first at his feet, and then Time would snatch him up, thinking he'd almost escaped from a bad electrical shock in its reality. That was the trick of it – making Time think you'd had a near-death experience, such as their most easily manipulated method of electric shock, so that it hurried to tug you back into its grasp. The charge would keep his body pulsing and feeling similar to the people still meant to be there, at least for a while, and once it wore off, Time would sling him back out.

There was only a moment to suck in a deep, needless breath before Blaine felt it, like a giant suction cup on the underside of his sneakers and then he was yanked from his chair, his body slipping through the hot water in the basin as everything gained momentum and swirled around him.

It was a rupture of Time, his mind, body, and soul, fabricated in some bizarre place nobody really had a name for or understood. To Blaine, it was always blinding during the brief first glimpse he managed to snatch up before his consciousness started to melt away. This was Time as far as he was concerned. This was where everything came together in a jumbled, heaving, painful mess that had no sense and no order until it was set out on a reality where everything was slower.

He was coming undone, being stripped bare until he was boneless and nothing more than a mind charging back into the real world. His vision swam and he rumbled through the noise of forgotten lands and places, distances and people while he was disintegrated and torn apart, losing sense of what was him and what was nothing. It was all nothing in here. An endless, unchecked flash of memories ran through him as his feet began realigning, grappling with something hard and solid underneath them as his mind started to go fuzzy and lose the focus he'd been trained to keep during Rupture.

For a second, he forgot who he was, where he was, or even what his purpose in being anywhere was. He was a million faces at once, a hundred different lives all mashed up around him with no end or beginning. The tug on his feet lessened more, and with a jolt he remembered one face distinctly. A sad, lonely face he'd seen eight years prior, but had yet to see again in person. Just a small picture of the same boy, even sadder and more dejected than before.

Kurt.

Kurt was why he was here.

With a crack, he dropped onto something bumpy and solid, eyes shut and stomach churning as his body adjusted to the dismantling it had just endured. Spots kept popping up behind his eyelids and Blaine laid still, his head swimming as he drew in a shuddery breath.

He'd made it back, but as always he felt like it had been by the skin of his teeth. Long-term Ruptures were alarming to go through, and for him especially, he knew where he would be when he opened his eyes.

The back lot of McKinley High School, behind the gymnasium and not too far from the football field. He always woke up here for long-term missions and hated it every time. This mission especially made this spot have a lot of meaning. It wasn't easy or enjoyable to be in the same spot where he'd died half a century ago.

A cool breeze brushed over his sweaty neck and face as he continued to breathe in deeply and then exhale. Finally, when Blaine thought his stomach was settled enough, he sat up and then opened his eyes. Sure enough, he was in the far corner, in an empty parking space that had been a giant pothole in his life.

"You think you're cool, you stupid little queer? Bet you want your mouth stuffed full of all of our dicks, don't you? You're going straight to Hell."

Blaine jerked his head to the side as the memory of the fist that had followed cracked against his jaw. Don't think about that, don't remember it here. They'd been wrong in so many ways and always would be.

Slowly, Blaine looked around, taking in the early morning sunlight and the birds chirping in the trees lining the backside of the bleachers. Not much had changed since his last long-term mission here seventeen years ago. The parking lot had been repaved in recent years, but it always was by the time he came here again. The first time he'd came to here, he'd been startled to see the pothole he'd tripped in on that Friday night was filled in. He always wondered if him bleeding to death in it had been the catalyst for that.

Several cars rolled passed on the street behind him. He glanced over quickly, surprised to find a chain-linked fence had been put up and that behind it was a new neighborhood he'd never seen before. McKinley might still look the same, but everything around it certainly didn't. As gingerly as Blaine could, he climbed to his feet, taking his time to adjust to the more heavy solidness of his body here and the way his stomach was still squirming angrily.

He swung his backpack around and unzipped the smallest pocket for the name he needed to ask for in the front office: Ms. Emma Pillsbury, guidance counselor.

With a last, agonizing look at the pavement once stained with his blood, saliva, and tears, Blaine turned towards the school building in the distance and hurried off. For right now, he could forget everything that had happened. Just for a little while longer, he could ignore that this mission was his last and that at some point he would face and accept the brutal reality he'd been given in that lot. But for now, he dug his pocket watch back out and opened the little silver, engraved cover.

It had once been his normal watch when he was still alive. A gift from his grandfather on his sixteenth birthday and a congratulations for his remarkably early acceptance into Julliard. It was slightly larger than a half dollar, pure silver with a musical staff and several curving lines of notes on the front. Along the bottom of the design was an engraving of his full name: Blaine Devon Anderson. He'd carried it everywhere after that day, even when his grandfather had disowned him. It had been his favorite gift and a symbol of how much he could accomplish when he set his mind on something.

Now it served only one purpose: a countdown until he was yanked back to the Between, or the Beyond this time, if all went well. Blaine studied the time displayed as he passed through the gate of the fence and onto the bus parking lot. Eight hours and forty-four minutes to anyone else who looked at it, but Blaine knew what was meant and it surprised him. The hour hand translated into months for long-term missions and the minute hand covered any days beyond that.

For some reason he'd been given the absolute maximum time: nine months and then a fortnight after that. Puzzled, but slightly pleased that he might have some time to enjoy himself the last time he was ever here, Blaine climbed the steps to the front entrance. He knew without a doubt that the longer time most likely meant that whatever he was here for would either be a lot of things to tie together by June or that something really bad was going to happen, either to Kurt or–

He froze as his sneakers squeaked on the floor tiles.

This mission had been assigned to him because Kurt and himself had similar situations. Helping Kurt with his would supposedly help Blaine to deal with his own, but... did that mean Kurt was going to die? Was he here to help Kurt leave Time in the same way he himself had?

"... Are you okay?" a high, concerned voice asked. It was sluggish in his ears, like cement chugging its way down a chute. He looked up and found a kind, beautiful red-haired woman standing in front of him. "Sweetheart? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I– sorry, I um," Blaine scrambled to get his head on straight after the paralyzing thought he'd just encountered. "I'm new here," he finally said gruffly. "I'm supposed to meet the guidance counselor to set up my class schedule, but I don't know where the office is."

It was an absolute lie on his part. The location of McKinley's front office hadn't changed since he'd actually attended, but he knew it was an easy cover story for the shocked look that must had graced his face.

The woman smiled sweetly. "Well, you're in luck," she told him. "You just ran into the exact person you're here so early to meet with. I'm Ms. Pillsbury."

"Blaine Anderson," Blaine returned politely, holding out his hand to shake, but when Ms. Pillsbury looked at it like a maggot-infected piece of rotting wood, Blaine slowly dropped it.

"It's very nice to meet you," she said instead, still eyeing his hand wearily.

Nonplussed, Blaine followed her down the hall to her office. It was a nice, very orderly room as he saw when they approached. The wall that separated it from the hallway was entirely made of glass windows and a glass-paneled door. Inside the shelves were organized almost too exactly and everything resting on the desk was aligned very precisely. Seventeen years ago it had been a walled off closet of an office for two of the English teachers.

Blaine caught it all with one sweeping glance. After half a century of working with people, figuring them out and then puzzling them back together, he had gotten very good at taking things in with a short glance and then filing and sorting away what he saw.

Ms. Pillsbury took out a handkerchief from her blouse pocket and used it when she grabbed the door handle and motioned him inside. She was a severe germophobe then, or some variety of OCD, though with only a few minutes together Blaine couldn't be sure of which.

"Take a seat," she offered before closing the door and scurrying around to her own chair which she eased into carefully and then rolled forward and to the left just exactly. OCD then. Definitely.

Blaine filed the knowledge away as she turned to her computer and began typing things in.

"So where are you from, Blaine?" she asked politely. The fact that she sounded genuinely interested was surprising. McKinley's last guidance counselor had been a bowling ball-shaped man who always had hot sauce stains on his tie and crumbs in his mustache. Blaine had kept away from him as much as possible after his class schedule had been arranged.

"Westerville," Blaine answered calmly, letting the familiar tale run over his tongue. "My brother and I just moved here a few weeks ago. Our parents died in a car accident in July, so I'm living with him until I go off to college."

Her face fell at his words, but Blaine barely batted an eyelash. "Oh, Blaine, I am so sorry to hear that," she said sincerely, pausing in her typing. "Do you– I'm always free to meet, and I have a ton of pamphlets if you need one for grieving– "

"No, no, it's fine," he assured her, but was secretly quite impressed with her, especially when he looked behind her at the stacks and rows of pamphlets. Several caught his eye and made him bite down a chuckle. He couldn't begin to imagine why anyone would need an "Oops, I Pooped in Homeroom Again" pamphlet, but everyone struggled with their own individual problems.

"Well, my door is always open," she told him. "I mean, it's usually closed because of all the students and all those greasy teenage germs, but figuratively, it's open for anyone who needs an ear."

"Thank you, that's very kind."

"It's my job to help," she reminded him. She typed at her computer for several more minutes before making a pleased noise that told Blaine she'd found him and his information in the system. "We've got quite a wide variety of courses to choose from for your junior year," she began. "I see you've taken almost all advanced courses at Dalton Academy and are actually well ahead of most of your classmates here in terms of graduation requirements."

He was well ahead of them in all of their courses right now, too, even if Blaine didn't say it out loud. That was one benefit of reliving his junior year of high school every time he came down here for a long mission. The only subject that really changed was history, and sometimes some of the sciences, depending on which he took.

"I'd like to continue with advanced courses, or AP ones," Blaine told her, "for English, History, and Chemistry."

As she began marking stuff in her system Blaine ran through the mental list of Kurt's other classes. He didn't want to look too suspicious obviously, but his mission, whatever it ended up being, would be easiest if he shared a lot of classes with the other boy. Kurt was the core of his assignment and the sooner he got to know him as a teenager, the better.

"And Pre-Calculus?" she added. "Your file says your last math course was Algebra II and Trigonometry."

"Yeah," Blaine agreed. That one was a hit or miss with Kurt. It was the same course, but there were a number of sections of it offered. That left three more classes to decide on and he knew he'd never make it through Kurt's upper-level French course. "Is there a choir class?" he wondered, already knowing there was because Kurt was in it. "I'd love to join that. I was in the acapella group at Dalton."

"There is, just the one and it's not a very big group, but I know them quite well," she told him, marking it on her screen. "They're a great bunch of kids, and they have a Glee Club set up after school. I'm sure they'd love to have you."

"Great," he said happily. "I guess I'll take weight-lifting and German for the last two."

Weight-lifting would give him a class with Kurt's potential step-brother, Finn, and German was easy for him. It should be after taking the same course five times.

Ms. Pillsbury clicked the last two and after a few minutes the printer on the filing cabinet beside her desk started up and spit out a sheet with his class schedule. He picked it up when she motioned for him to do so, and glanced at it briefly. Immediately he was glad to see his first two classes were shared with Kurt.

"Here's a map of the building, an agenda, and your locker number and combination. Homeroom starts at half past seven and then after announcements everyone moves to their first class," Ms. Pillsbury added, sliding two more pieces of paper over to him. He took them without looking at them and gave her a bright smile as he stood up.

"Thanks so much," he said.

"If you need anything else– "

"Your door's always figuratively open," he finished with a charming smile that made her beam as he exited the office.

He tucked the map into his back pocket and ran over his schedule once more. History first block with Kurt on the far side of the building. After finding a clock down one of the hallways, Blaine set off for the bathroom before he decided to mess with his locker.

That was one of the worst things about being back in Time after a Rupture. One of the first things he always had to do was pee and it always came over him so abruptly he was lucky to have never had an accident. With a final look down the hallway slowly filling with students, Blaine ducked into the nearest boys' room before his bladder combusted.