On Mondays, Cameron liked to follow a very particular routine. It was similar to the one he'd kept for almost forty years when he was alive, but there were a few obvious differences now. He got up, made himself coffee, dressed, and headed to work. But instead of greeting his various co-workers or checking in on various projects and cases his group was assigned to, he headed right to his office.

Once he was there the first thing he always did was check up with Cooper's life. In a different reality, he might have had another grandchild, or even great-grandchildren to check in on, but there was only Cooper left. His own sons had both passed away decades ago, leaving two of his three grandsons behind. Michael had been married half a dozen times with no children, but a number of mistresses and Cooper had never really managed to find his footing after Blaine's death. Cooper had pretty much disappeared entirely after that. It was only once Cameron had died and woken up in the Between that he'd had any clue about his oldest grandson's life.

After another sip of coffee, Cameron switched on his left monitor and opened up Cooper's file. Nothing new, as usual; the screen remained pale and bland. At seventy-six, there wasn't a lot left for Cooper to do except sit in his nursing home and be as miserable now as he had been for most of his life. Cameron scrolled along through the pages of background and information, glancing at the dozens of rehabilitation centers Cooper had ended up in for alcohol abuse after Blaine's death. He hadn't been admitted to one for a number of decades, but Cameron knew he'd never really gotten past his addiction or the loss of his brother. He'd simply stopped trying to do anything after his fiftieth birthday.

As much as Cameron hated what had happened to Blaine, Cooper's lonely, painful existence made him feel much worse. He couldn't help but feel like his treatment of Blaine was the cause of everything that had happened with these two and that Cooper had been right the last time they'd seen each other.

"If they hadn't done it, it would have been you!" Cooper snarled, his fist swinging aimlessly as he tottered on the front porch. A lot of the neighbors had come out to watch when they'd heard the shouts. It was no secret that the Andersons' grief was manifesting itself differently for all of them.

"Cooper, you're drunk– "

"Stay out of this, James," Cameron snapped angrily as Cooper tried to swing at him again. "If the boy wants to blame me for his brother's sins then so be it."

"There's nothing wrong with Blaine– "

"The world disagrees," Cameron reminded his oldest grandson bluntly. "That's why they sent him to Hell– "

Cameron flinched at the memory and the hard fist that had finally made contact with his nose after that comment. He'd deserved it. That and much worse ,if he was honest with himself. He reached the end of Cooper's file and paused for a while.

Memories from his life had started cropping up a lot more frequently since Blaine had Ruptured a little over a week ago. Most of them involved the last few times he'd seen Cooper or Blaine, but others had been from his time in the Between as well. It was strange for him to think back so far to how he'd once been towards his grandsons. Cold, aloof, and uncaring when it came to their lives and safety if they wouldn't conform to how he thought they needed to be. Now both of their lives had amounted to nothing.

For a moment, Cameron debated checking in on Cooper through the Timestream, but decided against it. He knew what he'd find and how much it would break his heart. It'd hurt just as much as it had when he'd watched Cooper turn away from his soul mate in the year following Blaine's death. He still had one more match, but the women was across the country and only a decade older than Kurt Hummel. There wasn't a whole lot to be done with that connection as far as he knew.

Instead, he flipped to his second Monday check-in: Blaine. He only did so when Blaine was out on a mission, but with this one he'd been checking in a lot more frequently, almost daily. There was so much that could go wrong. There was so much for Blaine to figure out and get through, both for himself and for Kurt, before everything was said and done in June.

The first thing he noticed was that Blaine's file was blinking rapidly when he opened it. Almost immediately, it directed him to Kurt's, and the screen scrolled at a blur until it stopped at Kurt's sexual orientation marker.

Homosexual: acknowledged and revealed.

Cameron blew out a loud huff of air and sunk deeper into his chair. It wasn't that he was surprised by the change. Kurt's marker had been at an acknowledged state for the past several years according to his file. But the suddenness of the change caught him off guard. It hadn't even been two full weeks yet and Blaine had already helped Kurt with such a huge step in his life. He had no doubt that the change was in relation to Kurt's father finally hearing it directly from his son. That was usually standard for most cases of hidden sexual orientations. When they finally came out to those most important in their lives, their files updated.

Blaine was quite adept at handling coming out cases. He'd helped with hundreds since he'd been here, but the speed of this one still surprised Cameron. Kurt had been buried deep under his fears and assumptions about his father's inevitably negative reaction. Somehow, Blaine had gotten him through that in a little under ten days. It was remarkable, even with a prior friendship and soulmate connection to draw them together.

"Quite impressive, isn't it?"

Cameron looked up and found his own boss in his doorway. Thomas Gates was a thin, balding man several decades younger than Cameron. He'd never asked why he'd ended up here, but Cameron knew he'd been here just as long as himself. Longer, actually, but still not as long as Blaine.

"Yeah," Cameron agreed as Thomas stepped in and closed the door. "I figured it would take him at least a few weeks, even a month, considering how terrified Kurt was about letting his father know."

"Nah, Blaine's sharp," Thomas reminded him. "He's been in this business for far too long not to get something like that out in the open fast." He paused as he sunk down into the chair across from Cameron, looking thoughtful and a little smug. "Besides, that boy's the love of his life – after life," he amended after a moment. "If anyone could have convinced Kurt Hummel to come out it would've been his soul mate."

"It's still... surprising," Cameron persisted, watching Thomas curiously. The man was always a little cocky, but he'd never seen him so mischievous and sure. He knew things Cameron didn't, that was a given, but there was obviously something else with this one, something Cameron no doubt would know soon enough.

"A lot of things with Blaine's last mission will, I think," Thomas said mysteriously. "There's a lot of hit and miss moments, but he's definitely on the right track. He'll get his chance before all's said and done. It's just a matter of him listening to his granddad and taking that moment when he figures it out."

Listening to his granddad. The words hummed through Cameron's mind as he remembered his final moments of advice to Blaine. Listen to your heart, even if it seems impossible or crazy.

"You make it sound like this is a reward for him instead of him helping Kurt find himself or for Blaine to face... face what happened," Cameron remarked suspiciously. He shifted uncomfortably at the mention of Blaine's death. Even he had a hard time accepting it, much more so than he used to. In his life, he'd brushed through it quite quickly, but now it wasn't so easy. He was a different man with different ideals and beliefs, and he knew how cruel he'd once been. "He's there to get past that and to make sure Kurt doesn't end up here– "

"That's the simplest way to describe what he's there for," Thomas cut in. "Learning to let go and accept what happened to him when he died isn't the only thing left for Blaine to learn, Cameron. You know very well what'll happen with these two before Blaine finds his way back here."

"Yes, but that's a big if, Thomas," Cameron reminded him. "Just because he feels it doesn't mean he'll listen to his own heart or my advice. He's got no reason to."

"He will," Thomas said simply, smiling sadly. "So will you. I know you didn't talk to him again. You've only got one more chance at this and then... "

"Then I restart with Cooper," Cameron deduced miserably.

"No, then you move on," Thomas corrected. His voice was so stern it was alarming. "I have my doubts for a few minor details when it comes to Blaine's last mission, but I know that kid. He's going to be amazing with this and he's going to get that Beyond he deserves. Unless something goes terribly wrong and we're way off, then Cooper isn't coming here either. You either get this right with Blaine when he's back for a moment, or you're a loss."

A loss. Cameron stomach curled at the thought. That meant he'd be here forever. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but it was a source of shame for a lot of people who were bordering that existence. Most of them didn't even get missions anymore. They'd had their chance at facing whatever they needed to face and failed. Unlike Cameron, most of them could have another chance at their Beyonds, but Cameron knew his was hinged entirely upon his relationships with his grandsons, particularly Blaine. If he didn't open up and make amends, Blaine would move Beyond and be out of his grasp forever. There would be no possibility of ending his own regrets.

"Think about it, seriously," Thomas urged him. "You've only got one shot left, Cameron. I'd hate for you to miss it."

"I– Cooper's going to be fine?"

He wasn't sure where the question came from. His thoughts were jumbled between fears of his own fate and the idea that everything depended on him healing his relationship with Blaine. Cooper wasn't coming to the Between. Somehow, miraculously, he was going to go Beyond, despite the miserable life he'd lived.

"He'll get there, it just takes time."

"But– how? He's... his whole life has just been– " Cameron stammered in disbelief.

"His life isn't over yet," Thomas reminded him pointedly. "He's still got almost a decade before his time is up."

It didn't make sense. No matter how Cameron thought about it, there was nothing and nobody in Cooper's life to turn it all around or make him let go of his regrets and heartache. He had been stuffed away in an underfunded nursing home in Columbus for years. Even that was coming to an end unless the home was given enough donations before the end of the year.

"I'll see you this afternoon," Thomas said, standing up and stretching. "We've got a few new cases to go over, a new arrival to get settled, too. They're easing him into it right now. He's a wreck; wife and kids shot right in front of him. I don't think he's got any clue he did it either."

Cameron hummed softly and nodded. "Schizophrenic?"

"Not that we know of," Thomas replied. "He's... he lost it down there. Blocked it all out. Gonna have a hell of a time coming to terms with that."

Cameron nodded again and watched Thomas as he left his office. He'd helped deal with a few introductions with similar histories before, but they weren't his area or concentration. The man would be assigned to someone else.

He turned back to his screens, flipping Blaine's profile open and watching it. The edges were pulsing faintly with energy. Not a lot like Kurt's or even Cooper's, but enough to indicate that he was close to being alive. Cameron watched for a long time, taking in the way the edges and screen dimmed and then brightened in time with an unseen and unreal heart beat. He wished Blaine's heart really was still beating or that he had more time to get past his own stubbornness and fears.

If he failed in June – if he couldn't bring himself to tell his grandson how much he cherished him – then that was it. He would spend forever stuck here with no way out and the agonizing reminder that not only was it his own fault, but that Blaine would never be able to move past it either.

Kurt skipped right into McKinley on Monday morning. He was there early to avoid a dumpster toss, but was still bubbling over with so much relief and excitement that he was grinning broadly. His dad knew. Burt Hummel knew his son was gay and he didn't care in the slightest. Kurt couldn't remember the last time he was this happy and even the arrival of the first jock shoulder checking him into the lockers didn't wipe the smile from his lips.

For the first time in years, he had something great in his life. His relationship with his father wasn't lost. And it was almost entirely thanks to Blaine that he'd found the courage to be honest.

"Boy, you look like you swallowed a gallon of laughing gas," Blaine remarked from behind him.

A second later, Blaine was beside him, opening his own locker and glancing over at him. Still grinning widely, Kurt giggled quietly and blushed. He shouldn't be this giddy, and yet, this was a huge moment for him. His father still loved him. Nothing that happened today was going to take that truth away from him.

"I'm guessing you had a fun weekend," Blaine continued with a laugh. "Must have met the man of your dreams if you're blushing like that–"

"Oh, stop," Kurt chided, face still burning, but more at the thought Blaine had just planted there. If he ever found someone, he could bring him home. His dad would want to meet his boyfriend, if he was ever lucky enough to have one.

"What?" Blaine asked. A hand waved in front of Kurt's vision and he shook himself. Blaine was watching him closely, smiling hopefully and kindly. "You're acting weird, Kurt, but like, a good weird. A happy weird."

"I– Blaine, I came out to my dad," Kurt admitted. He stopped shuffling books around in his locker and turned to the other boy, who looked surprised, but pleased. "He– Blaine, he was so wonderful about it–"

There were tears in his eyes as Blaine stepped forward and gave him a tight, but brief hug. "I told you he would be," Blaine murmured, smiling softly as he ducked back and wipe a few tears off of Kurt's cheeks. "He loves you more than anything."

"H- he said he'd known since I was little," Kurt added, laughing ruefully. He hiccupped a moment later as Blaine fixed a few locks of his hair. "It was just... amazing. He started talking to me after we ordered pizza and kept reminding me that he loves me and if I ever needed him that he's always there and... I don't know. I just told him. After everything you've been saying, I figured it was now or never."

"I'm glad it worked out," Blaine said gently. His smile was still in place, but something about it flickered. It made Kurt think about Blaine's own parents, and the fact that they'd taken Blaine's coming out pretty badly. As carefully as he could, Kurt moved back into Blaine's arms, hugging him as tightly as Blaine had hugged him a few minutes ago. He kept Blaine firmly against his chest, his fingers skimming along Blaine's shoulders and his upper back until a group of jocks rumbled past with angry remarks. He smelled like cinnamon and raspberries, but the strange combination suited him. It was comforting.

"Keep it in the closet!"

"Back off with your fairy dust, you perverts!"

Kurt glared after the two jocks as Blaine pulled back and started rummaging in his locker again. After a second during which Kurt watched him, he turned back to his own locker and dug out his last book. He felt bad for having such great news and he knew he shouldn't. It was great that his dad had taken everything so well. But Blaine had had such a rough time with his own parents that Kurt felt guilty. He could easily imagine the wistful thoughts running through Blaine's mind. The hopes of a mother and father who would pull him into a hug and tell him that it didn't matter, they loved him just as much no matter who he loved in return.

Blaine would never have that chance. It made Kurt's chest ache just thinking about it.

"Come on," Blaine said suddenly, shutting his locker. "You can tell me the whole story in history, okay? I want details."

With a smile, Kurt agreed as they headed to history and took their usual seats in the back. They spent most of their partner work time discussing the night before and how Burt had reacted, what they'd each said, and how relieved Kurt had been by the end of it. As the bell rang and they headed off to their next class, Kurt caught Blaine's elbow and looped his arm through Blaine's.

"Thank you," he said quietly as they slugged through the crowds. "If you hadn't encouraged me, I don't think I ever would have been brave enough to– "

"You would have," Blaine assured him. "You're a lot braver than you know."

Kurt shook his head as they continued down the hall to their next shared class. Blaine was always complimenting him like that, always boosting him up and making him feel better about everything. In some ways, he was nothing like the boy Kurt remembered from his childhood and in others, Blaine was exactly like him. His kindness, the way his eyes sparkled when he joked with Kurt, the firm, comforting grip of his hand on Kurt's whenever Kurt was scared or confused.

Kurt had started browsing through the yearbooks from the early nineties and the year he'd met his Blaine with limited success. There had been a Blaine Anderson listed in the Glee Club and a few others, but he'd not been pictured, even in the individual pictures for 1993. For 2002 there hadn't been a single mention of a Blaine Anderson at all. The years on either side of 1993 and 2002 had no mentions of a Blaine Anderson anywhere. There wasn't even a Blaine in the entire school.

It was just a gut feeling, but he knew they were the same. They couldn't be anything or anyone else but the same person. The only problem was that Kurt had no proof. There was no picture, no other years to look at, and the very idea of Blaine being in a hundred different years but never aging was mindboggling.

But so was this Blaine looking just like his childhood Blaine.

By lunch time, Kurt and Blaine had skipped past discussing Kurt's coming out and were discussing their other family members. Or more accurately, Kurt was telling Blaine about his mother's sister, parents, and his dad's parents while Blaine listened and offered very little on his own. It was a characteristic Kurt had noticed a lot in the last week. Every conversation was always about him, not Blaine.

"– and my dad has a brother, but I haven't seen him in years," Kurt finished. "Uncle Ted's always off on business in the middle of nowhere. I always pretended he was a fantastically dressed spy when I was a kid."

"Must have been a bummer to find out he dressed in flannel," Blaine remarked as they settled down at their back corner table.

"Yeah, it was–"

Kurt froze. He'd never mentioned his uncle to Blaine before, or that annoying little fact. But he had said it to the Blaine from his memories. God, it all added together so well except for the fact that it was all absurd.

Instead of calling Blaine on yet another thing, Kurt nodded, ate a bite of spaghetti, and asked, "So I know your parents are gone, but what about the rest of your family?"

"Oh, um," Blaine paused, stuffed a forkful of pasta into his mouth and chewed slowly. The diversion wasn't lost on Kurt at all. He knew Blaine was hiding things, even denying or lying about some of it. Why he was doing it was the one thing Kurt was really interested in knowing. He had his own frightening and bizarre suspicions. "I have an older brother, Jack. I live with him."

Kurt frowned at the name. That was different. The Blaine he remembered had an older brother as well, but his name was Cooper, or Conan. It hadn't been as simple as Jack. That boy had been quite a bit older, too, if his memory was still correct.

"Oh, is he... okay with you being gay?"

"Hmm? Yeah, he doesn't care," Blaine said with a shrug. "Never has."

It wasn't much of anything to go off of. Kurt nodded anyway, and watched as Blaine continued to eat, neatly cutting up his spaghetti now and taking his time. He was always so proper when he ate, or when he did anything really. He was a real gentleman, dapper and mature and dressed like he was out of a fifties movie.

Apparently he even carried a pocket watch, because he'd just pulled one out to examine it. As it flashed in the artificial light, Kurt caught sight of the cover and his heart leapt. A musical staff and twisting lines of notes. Just like his Blaine's had been. It was one part of that Blaine that had always lingered with him, even when a lot of the other details had faded.

Blaine had carried a silver pocket watch. A shiny and fairly new looking one with that same engraving on the cover and his name inscribed under it.

"I wanna see your pretty watch!" Kurt demanded as he reached over the table and grappled for the little device.

It wasn't the first time Blaine had pulled it out in front of him. More often than not, he tugged it out of his pocket, frowned, and then said his goodbyes for that afternoon. Kurt was fascinated by the device, and even a little angry at it. Whenever it appeared, Blaine disappeared.

"Hey, woah!" Blaine hollered, pulling his hand back and then holding the watch high out of Kurt's reach.

Pouting, Kurt slumped back down into his little chair and glared over at Blaine.

"I wanna see it," he reiterated waspishly. "You always look at it and then go."

"Well, I have to get home so my parents don't get mad at me for missing dinner, Kurt," Blaine said slowly, setting his hands and the watch back down on the little table. "If I'm late they'll get mad and then I won't be able to see you at all."

Kurt frowned at that pronouncement, but didn't argue. Seeing Blaine was the best part of his day. The kids at school were dirty and mean and the teachers treated him like he was china doll about to shatter all over the floor. His dad was... sad. All the time now. He barely even went to work and walked around like he couldn't hear or see anything. It scared Kurt because his dad had always been bright and happy and loud; now he was like the birthday balloons Kurt always had that sunk to the floor a week later and looked pitiful.

"I still wanna see," Kurt insisted more quietly. "It's so shiny and pretty and–"

Blaine laughed as Kurt's description continued on for another four adjectives. "All right, all right! It's nothing special," he added as he slid it across the table. "Just a... a gift from my grandfather for my sixteenth birthday."

Delighted, Kurt picked it up and tested the weight in his little hands. It was heavier than it looked, the metal warm from Blaine's grip and his pocket. He ran his fingers over the design on the front. There was a musical staff carved into it, large and squiggly. Kurt's music teacher at school had started to teach them the notes and the names for those funny symbols, but he couldn't remember if this was the fish named one or the one that trembled. Underneath the curving musical staff and notes was Blaine's full name, engraved in a curving smile around the bottom edge

Blaine Devon Anderson.

"Isn't Devon a girl's name?" Kurt wondered out loud. "I've never met another boy with a girl's name for their middle name."

"Is it?" Blaine asked lightly. "Huh, I guess it could be either, but Elizabeth is a beautiful name," he added with a pointed look at Kurt. "A beautiful name for a sweet little boy."

"Stop sweet talking me, Blaine Devon," Kurt said superiorly, tilting his chin up and doing his best to look down his nose at Blaine. It was difficult since the other boy was much bigger than him. He was so big he barely fit into the little plastic chair he was sitting in.

Blaine laughed loudly at that and went back to sipping his "tea" quietly while Kurt examined the pocket watch more. The little knob on the top clicked and the cover sprung open, revealing a dark watch face and silver numbers and hands. As Kurt watched it, his brow crinkled in confusion. The hands were moving backwards and much faster than they would on a normal watch. It was currently at a quarter past eight – which Kurt knew was wrong because it was still daylight – and the second hand was a blur. The minute hand was moving quite fast, too, spinning at the speed the second hand should be.

"I think your watch is broken," Kurt told him, tilting it up until the sunlight hit the watch face. It flashed in the sunlight, speckling Blaine's face with little lights as the older boy reached over and looked it over.

"No, it's fine," Blaine said after a moment. He smiled, and it was an odd smile Kurt didn't fully understand. It wasn't happy or sad or even amused like so many times before, it was just there. "I've gotta get going, okay, Kurt? Same time tomorrow?"

Kurt stared over at Blaine as he examined the watch for a moment and then closed the cover. He couldn't not stay something after seeing that. It was the watch he remembered. There was nothing else to it. Somehow, this Blaine was his Blaine and there was no logical explanation for any of it. But Kurt was starting to have his suspicions; very unbelievable, crazy suspicions.

"That's a nice watch," Kurt complimented still watching Blaine fiddle with it. "Is it specially made?"

"Wh– oh, my grandfather, yeah," Blaine stammered, looking surprised that Kurt was looking at it so intently. Maybe he remembered everything and was hiding it on purpose. Maybe he was... Kurt shook himself. It wasn't possible, no matter what he'd seen on television and in American culture for his entire life. "He gave it to me for my birthday last year. Brand new and everything."

"Can I see it?" Kurt asked uncertainly. He caught sight of the engraved cover as Blaine clicked it closed. "That engraving looks beautiful."

Blaine eyed him for a moment, and that look said everything Kurt didn't know how to explanation. They both knew they'd met years ago and that Blaine hadn't aged a day, but neither of them were saying anything.

Too polite to refuse Kurt's request, Blaine handed Kurt his pocket watch, looking tense and unnerved. It was lighter than Kurt remembered. The silver was still smooth and warm in his grasp. The little knob on top still compressed to open the cover engraved with Blaine's full name and musical notes. The watch face was still dark and handsome.

"It's beautiful," Kurt remarked, briefly examining the time. He was about to click it closed, so as to not look too suspicious, but the watch face was different. The hands weren't moving at all this time, not backwards or forwards or anything. The second hand wasn't even twitching like the cogs inside of it were stuck. With a frown, Kurt looked at the time – 9:04 – and then eased the cover closed.

"I think you need to wind it up or something," Kurt said, trying his best to sound normal. "It stopped a few hours ago."

"Oh, yeah, the battery's getting old," Blaine said immediately, his voice higher than usual. "I'm gonna have to find a shop somewhere in town to get it fixed."

Kurt was barely listening as he flipped the watch over and caught sight of the trademark, and more importantly the date next to it.

1959.

Stunned, Kurt barely heard anything Blaine was saying after that. He passed the watch back, but his mind was reeling. 1959 was decades ago. Half a century. If Blaine had been truthful, and Kurt assumed he must have been since he'd said the same thing both times, then Blaine had received this watch in 1959 for his sixteenth birthday. But that would mean...

For the rest of lunch, Kurt stared over at Blaine, trying to puzzle it together and make sense of what everything was telling him. Blaine was... he was some type of ghost? Angel? Kurt didn't know. He'd seen movies and shows and books about guardian angels and them being sent down from Heaven and a bunch of other nonsense, but he'd never bought into it or God. How was he supposed to just ignore all of this when it was right in front of his face and that was the only explanation he could even remotely believe?

As the lunch bell rang, Blaine scooped both of their trays up and went to empty them. Kurt shook himself and stood up. The only way he'd ever get a full, honest answer was to ask Blaine and the idea of asking the living, breathing boy walking by his side if he was dead was ridiculous. But at least he had another date to look at. Maybe researching 1959's McKinley yearbooks would finally give him the picture and proof he was looking for.