Once upon a time, there was a boy with a unicorn tattoo who wanted to fly. He searched around for brains, heart, and courage. But there was a thorn in his side that weakened him and though he tried to fly, he--

Blaine stared at the black letters printed with digital precision on his laptop. He averted his eyes, searching desperately until he found the bottle of Jack Daniels that had ended up wedged between the desk and the hotel bed. His hand shook as he unscrewed the cap, frantically gulping down a quater of it. He knew that the trial was tomorrow and Santana had told him to stay sober, but he couldn't take it anymore. 

Tears welled up in Blaine's eyes as he took another burning gulp, half-placing half-slamming the bottle down on the desk so hard it nearly broke. His body shivered all over and an empty warmth filled him as his shaky hands went back to his keyboard. 

This is the story about a boy. No, a man. The man that I loved. 

Blaine looked above his laptop at his plain gray wall, unable to stop the tears that were now streaming down his face.

"Goodbye Mr. Earl Grey."

The man I loved is... 

***

There was a knock at his door.

"Anderson?"

Blaine hid his head further under his pillow, an intense throbbing overtaking his whole body.

"Anderson, open the damn door."

Blaine gripped his messy curls tightly before rolling out of bed and wrenching the hotel room door open. 

Santana stood outside, arms crossed, heels clicking on the ground in impatience. Her nostrils flared as she took in his appearance. "Seriously?"

"Shut up," Blaine groaned, rubbing a hand over his scruff. 

"We need you sober and articulate, Anderson," she snapped. "This'll hardly work if you're too busy being Count Boozy Von Drunk-A-Ton." 

"I'm fine, Santana," he said harshly, though the slight slur in his voice took some of the edge off. "I write better when I'm drunk anyways."

"Let's just hope that you testify better as well," she rolled her eyes. "Also that the jury has some sort of sinus disorder because you smell like lighter fluid."

Blaine shot her a look before reaching over to his bedside table, pawing for the bottle.

Santana marched over and smartly slapped his hand, grabbing his wrist in a vice grip and pulling him up sharply. "Up! Up!"

"No," Blaine said, wrenching his arm back. "Just leave me here."

Santana glared down at him, hands on her hips. "Do you really want this psychopath to walk?"

Blaine stared at the close-up fine threads of his cotton pillowcase, noting the odd way in which they crisscrossed back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and--

"Blaine!"

"I'm up." He pushed himself up from the covers, swinging his legs over the end. "Why do I even have to go today? I don't testify until tomorrow." 

"You need to meet the team," Santana said curtly. "And watch the trial today so you'll know what's acceptable behavior and what isn't."

Blaine's eyes clenched shut briefly before he sighed, shoulders slumping. "How long do I have?"

"Fifteen minutes, dress nicely." Her nose wrinkled. "And for god's sake, Anderson. Take a shower."

***

Three months.

It had been three months since the night of the masquerade ball in New York.

It had been a long three months.

***

Blaine toweled his hair dry and blinked blearily at his stubble in the mirror before deciding that it really wasn't worth it to shave. Instead, he just pulled a standard black turtleneck over his head and tripped into black slacks and a black blazer. After a thought, he grabbed his much-more-frequently-than-priorly-used glasses and slid them up his nose, toeing his feet into a pair of black oxfords. He grabbed his shoulder bag along with a fresh pen and left his dreary hotel room.

The sunlight irked him and he slouched down as he was driven to the Westerville Courthouse, the flashes of paparazzi outside of the giant marble building not improving his mood in the slightest. He slid out of his car, keeping his head down and trying to ignore the various questions screamed at him.

"Why are you testifying?"

"What was your relationship with Kurt Hummel?"

"When is your next book coming out?"

Blaine cut through the reporters and through the glass front doors with a sigh. The eery stillness of the courthouse in comparison to the steps outside unnerved him, but he carried on, pressing through door 215.

"Look what the cat dragged in."

"Ha ha," he shot back at Santana. 

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Seriously, Blaine? You're going with the poor writer hipster look?"

"I'll clean up tomorrow," he sighed, giving her a once over. "You look nice."

She did, with her hair pulled back in a high ponytail, a sleek black dress suit on with mile-high black pumps. 

"You look like hell," she said dryly in response. 

"Come on, Santana, be nice," a deep voice behind her chided. "He is our key testifier after all." 

A tall black man in a sharply lined suit stepped around Santana and offered a hand. "You must be Blaine Anderson. I'm David Thompson, the head prosecutor."

"Nice to meet you," Blaine nodded, shaking his hand. 

"You too. Don't worry. We'll nail this guy. He doesn't have a chance of escaping," David said confidently.

"I hope so," Blaine muttered, an odd chill overtaking him. "He'll fight dirty."

"I've got it covered, trust me," David nodded. "And I know how his attorney likes to play, so I'm pretty confident."

"Clarington?" Santana rolled her eyes. "What a melodramatic asshat. Yeah, we've definitely got this one." She nodded her head at Blaine, over towards the small group of people across the room. "Come on. Meet the team."

They walked over to the group and there was a lot of hand shaking and Santana talking over everyone. 

"This is Trent, our researcher--" Blaine shook the hand of a young man with a high coif in his hair dressed in a smart navy suit with a rich plum shirt. "--and Judy, our notetaker--" He shook the hand of disinterested girl with a short dark brown bob cut and a long draping sweater dress that made her look like she belonged in a library--which, Blaine realized, might have been exactly where they'd found her. "--and  Dottie, our analyzer." He shook the hand of a smily Japanese girl who honestly couldn't be older than eighteen, with some sort of butterfly bow tie at her neck. 

Then there were the others that he did know--Mercedes and Carl from Seattle, who he greeted as warmly as he could with handshakes and shoulder pats. Sam who shared his grim look. And...Rachel. 

His wife was sitting on the end of a table, her long hair pulled back in an elegant twist, a flattering white blouse and a gray knit pencil skirt hugging her frame while long tan stockings and studded black pumps completed the outfit. His lips quirked as he saw her eyeing Santana's heels with envy before her eyes fluttered over to him. "Blaine," she smiled tightly, sliding down off the table.

"Hello, Rachel," he murmured, leaning over to kiss the side of her cheek. 

Her nose wrinkled. "Urgh. Whiskers."

He let out a brief singular chuckle before pulling back. "Are you ready for this?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Blaine, I am always ready."

The small smile that tugged at Blaine's lips actually managed to be genuine. "That's my girl."

A discreet cough behind him made him turn. "Your girl, Anderson?"

Blaine shrugged, turning to face Jesse. "Well, she is my wife, St. James."

"Now now, boys," Rachel said. "No need to fight over me."

"She says, as she sits there and leans back and does nothing," Jesse said bitingly, though his usual snark was lost due to the fond streak in his tone. 

"Well, I wouldn't want to get in the way," Rachel shrugged.

"You'll never be in the way, Rachel," Chandler smiled as he popped up from her other elbow.

Jesse rolled his eyes. "Did anyone ask you, munchkin?" 

"Jesse, play nice," Blaine rolled his eyes before turning to Chandler. "How are you holding up?"

Chandler shrugged, itching his arm nervously. "I mean...I'm okay. It's all just kind of a shock, you know? These past three months have felt like a dream..."

"I know," Blaine sighed, clapping his shoulder. "We've just got to get through this trial, okay?"

Chandler nodded before moving on glumly.

Blaine sighed. He almost felt as bad for him as he did for himself.

He blanked out a lot of the talking, only catching snippets. The way it was looking time wise, half of them would testify today and the other half would tomorrow. Blaine was to be last, right before Sebastian, to make their case stronger.

Blaine just twirled his pen around in his fingers, trying to think of something, anything to write.

Nothing came to mind. 

***

At eleven am they were all seated in the court, waiting. Blaine was wedged between Trent and Judy and his eyes kept wandering up to trace patterns in the ceiling. 

He apparently missed the announcement of Judge Sylvester because everyone was standing suddenly and Judy was nudging him and he blinked, standing as the tall imposing woman took her seat, eyeing over everyone. 

Blaine started tracing patterns into the grainy wood of the bench in front of him, blocking out the sound until a name broke through it.

"--the accused, Sebastian Smythe--"

Blaine's eyes shot over to the defendant box and saw Sebastian looking at him, a smirk curling his lip. Heat rushed through Blaine as he remembered that night, three months ago...

***

Blaine stared at him hard. “What’s fourteen?”

“Kurt’s fourteenth birthday,” Sebastian grinned. “When daddy found someone who wanted a broken doll.”

The color drained from Blaine’s face.

“Oh Blaine,” Sebastian crooned. “Why else do you think I brought Kurt here tonight? He needed to be broken in again before going back home.”

"Where is he?" Blaine said, gripping his gun tighter.

Sebastian smiled, leaning on one hand. "I think the more appropriate question is...where is she?"

Blaine stared.

"Because Kurt--or should I say Katy--has gone home to her husband."

A cool chill settled over Blaine. "And where exactly is that?"

Sebastian smirked. "Let me go first."

"No."

"Fine. You'll never see Kurt again."

Blaine gritted his teeth before lowering his gun. "Where?" he repeated. 

Sebastian smiled at him before suddenly throwing a glass paperweight at his head.

Blaine held his arm up to block it before aiming his gun but Sebastian was too fast. He knocked Blaine's arm out of the way before tackling him, wrestling the gun from his hand and hitting him sharply over the head with it.

Darkness creeped at Blaine's vision before Sebastian leaned down close to his ear. "Just go home, Blaine." 

And then everything went black.

***

"--on the multiple charges of kidnapping, assault, and murder. How does the defendant plead?"

Blaine held Sebastian's stare while the defense attorney, Hunter Clarington, leaned forward.

"Not guilty."

***

Blaine quickly realized that there was a reason that he'd never written past the solving of a mystery in his novels--trials were actually incredibly clinical and, well, boring. Despite everything that was at stake, all the formalities that had to be observed and practiced drew the whole thing out. He just wanted everyone to say there piece and be done with it. 

But the thing that disturbed Blaine the most was how many questions were being asked about Kurt.

And how few answers were able to be given. 

Mercedes was on the stand first. David had questioned her and she'd given a very clinical yet favorable impression of Kurt and her relationship with him. And she remained calm, which Blaine was eternally grateful for. Looking down the aisle at some of the others, he couldn't be so sure that it'd be the same for everyone else.

"The prosecution rests."

Blaine turned his attention back to the trial as Hunter got up, buttoning his suit as he walked over to Mercedes. Blaine saw Santana's jaw tighten infinitesimally as he leaned close to the teenager--and, oddly enough, Sam's as well. 

"Miss Jones," Hunter said. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

Hunter nodded. "And so you're very protective of Mr. Hummel, from what I gather?"

Mercedes blinked. "We're friends, yes. As with all the McKinley kids."

"But you never offered up your home to him, did you? At least, there are no records of it."

"We did, and he did stay with us for a couple of weeks."

Hunter's eyebrows shot up. "Oh? And why was there no record of this?"

"Because..." Mercedes paused briefly. "Because Kurt wasn't on file at McKinley Home."

"He wasn't?"

"Not when he was himself, no."

"Elaborate for the court, please."

"He..." Mercedes glanced briefly at someone from their group--Blaine guessed Santana--before continuing. "When he first came to Seattle, when I first met him, he was a girl named Dorothy. Or at least, that's what we all thought. Kurt went through a lot before coming to Seattle and so that was his way of coping, I guess. But then one day he just sort of...snapped out of it and told everyone that his real name was Kurt. And we became friends after that."

"And that didn't seem odd to you at all?" Hunter raised an eyebrow.

Mercedes shrugged. "I've seen a lot stranger things in Seattle. And I'm used to seeing young boys and girls being used and abused to those far more privileged than they."

Blaine saw a slight smile turn up the corner of Santana's mouth.

Hunter's jaw clenched slightly. "But you were saying? Kurt stayed with you?"

Mercedes nodded. "A couple of weeks in September. Emma--the head of McKinley Home--wanted him to try out one of the cycle homes that's a part of their program and so she asked my parents if they'd be willing to take in Kurt for a trial run."

"And how did that turn out?"

"I--not well," Mercedes admitted. "He didn't like being in such close proximity with so many others and he really didn't like having to share a room. And something about the traditional house setting just...set him off, I guess."

"Did he attack anyone?" Hunter asked easily.

"No!" Mercedes said vehemently. "No, he didn't!"

***

"Kurt?" 

The whimpering had woken Mercedes up and she went into his room where she found him huddled in the corner, rocking back and forth. 

She knelt down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Kurt, are you alright?"

At her touch his head snapped up, his eyes wild like an animal's as he tackled her to the ground, yelling things at her that she didn't understand while Mercedes cried out, trying to push him off.

Her brother had burst through the door and dragged Kurt back, but not before he'd managed to drag his nails sharply down her left arm, drawing blood. 

***

Hunter stared her down. "Are you quite sure?"

"Positive," she said straight face. "Kurt never attacked anybody."

Hunter stared at her for a long while before asking, "Did Kurt ever mention his life before Seattle while living with you?"

"No."

"Nothing about Sebastian Smythe?"

"No."

"When was the first time you heard Sebastian Smythe's name?"

"From Samuel Evans, about two months ago."

"The defense rests."

Hunter walked back to his box with clipped movements.

Mercedes looked momentarily bewildered before exiting the stand so that Carl could take her place.  

David got up, taking the file that Dottie handed him before approaching the stand. "Please state your name for the court."

"Carl Howell." 

"What is your occupation, Mr. Howell?"

"I'm a detective who works with the Seattle Police Department." 

"When was the first that you heard of the accused, Sebastian Smythe?"

"About...three months ago. I got a call from Blaine. Blaine Anderson. He'd given me a tip-off about Kurt Hummel and I was digging through files when he called me again and asked for information on the prior Westerville address of Sebastian Smythe."

"And why had Mr. Anderson asked you about Mr. Smythe?"

"Well, he later explained that there'd been an altercation between Mr. Hummel and Mr. Smythe and that Mr. Smythe had beaten him and then had him kidnapped by a Mr. Karofsky, whom I'd already been investigating."

"Could you clarify 'beaten', Mr. Howell?" David said, stressing the word with relish.

"Yes," Carl nodded. "Mr. Anderson had said that Mr. Smythe had whipped Mr. Hummel repeatedly on the back while Mr. Hummel had laid prone, handcuffed to a desk."

A murmur rippled through the court as everyone shifted in unease. Judge Sylvester cracked her gavel sharply and silence reigned once more.

"What did you discover after you looked up Kurt Hummel's file?" David continued. 

"Several things," Carl said evenly. "One being that he was the exact likeness of Katherine Karofsky, who I'd already been investigating. After some more digging I started piecing the story together. Kurt Hummel was put into the foster care system at the age of five and ended up with the Smythe family. But, for some odd reason his file was apparently destroyed sometime after and he never left the Smythe family until the age of fourteen when he was both adopted and married into the Karofsky family. His legal name was changed to Katherine Karofsky and he was Dave Karofsky's wife."

It wasn't anything new to Blaine's ears, but hearing it laid out so clinically made his stomach turn.

"A year ago this past Christmas was the infamous fire that killed Paul and Chelsea Karofsky, and that's the last record of Katherine Karofsky. It was said that her 'brother' Dave sent her off to boarding school as he was her legal guardian, but then Kurt popped up in Seattle last April."

David nodded, picking up a zip-locked bag with a large stack of papers in it. "The jury will note Exhibit A which is the legal report and studies that Mr Howell has done in research of Kurt Hummel, all proven to be correct." He set the packet back down heavily. "The prosecution rests."

Blaine's eyes slid uneasily over to Hunter who approached Carl calmly. 

"Mr. Howell...when did you first hear about Mr. Hummel?"

Carl blinked. "I...well, I didn't know he was Mr. Hummel back then, but I first heard of Kurt last October."

"How did you hear about him?"

"Blaine told me. He--the two of them were looking into the Scarecrow killings."

Hunter smiled slightly. "The Scarecrow killings? Would you please elaborate for the court?"

"There were a string of killings of young teenage girls who lived, or had priorly lived  in one case, at McKinley Home. They were all made to look somewhat like a scarecrow." 

Hunter nodded. "And was the Scarecrow killer ever caught?"

"Yes," Carl nodded. "Well...he--William Schuester--died...was killed."

"Killed?" Hunter raised an eyebrow. "By who?"

"Unknown," Carl said quickly.

Hunter's eyebrow arched even higher. "Well who were the last people to have seen Mr. Schuester?"

Carl sent Blaine an apologetic glance and Blaine just sighed. 

"Mr. Anderson and Mr. Hummel."

Hunter smiled broadly. "Mr. Howell, did you ever meet Kurt Hummel?"

"No."

"So your only knowledge of him was based of hearsay, correct?"

"Well I--"

"It's a simple yes or no question," Hunter cut across.

Carl sighed. "Yes, all my knowledge of him was based off hearsay."

"Did you ever meet Mr. Smythe before today, Mr. Howell?"

"No."

"So everything you've heard about him has been hearsay, correct?"

"Yes, but also--"

"The defense rests, you honor."

"Damn," Trent muttered under his breath next to Blaine. "Clarington's pulling out all the stops today. But that means that he'll just be twice as nasty tomorrow."

"I don't like where they're going with this," Judy whispered quietly, her voice barely distinguishable over the commotion of Carl leaving the stand for Sam. "He's trying to come at this at an angle but I can't figure out what."

"At least Carl kept his cool for most of the time," Blaine sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He's been a massive help throughout this whole thing. I mean, he was the one who found Brittany..."

***

Carl pounded his fist against the door a fifth time before it opened, revealing a wide-eyed blonde. "Yes?"

"Hi," Carl said, blinking at her through the rain. "Are you Brittany Pierce? The owner of Brittany Pierces and Tattoos?"

Brittany nodded, a smile curling her pierced lips as she rolled her tattooed arms proudly. "Yep, that's me."

"Could I come in for a chat?"

"Sure," she smiled. "Would you like some tea?"

"No thank you," he sighed, waving his hand. 

"Good thing," Brittany nodded. "I'm pretty sure that Lord Tubbington's been slipping drugs into it again."

Carl blinked. "O...kay. I came here to talk about Kurt Hummel."

Brittany cocked her head to the side. "Who?"

Carl clicked his phone on and showed her the photo of Kurt that Blaine had sent to him before hopping on the first flight out to Seattle. It was of Kurt, lying on a carpet and giggling, his back on display. "Kurt. You gave him this tattoo? I only recognized it because you used some of the same patterns on my ex-girlfriend's tattoo of a starfish. Holly Holiday?"

Brittany nodded silently as she stared at the photo. "Unicorn," she muttered. "He...he was supposed to come back to get his roses colored in a week ago, but he never showed up."

"He was kidnapped, Brittany," Carl said gently. "And if there's any information you can give about him to the police that would be great and...we'd also overlook the fact that you gave a tattoo to a minor."

Brittany tucked a long lock of hair behind her ear. "He...he came in several months ago because he wanted a tattoo to cover the scars on his back and...I agreed. So I gave him the unicorn because he reminded me of a unicorn."

"Did he say anything about the scars on his back?" Carl frowned. "Or about where he was from, maybe?"

Brittany frowned. "He said...he wanted to forget about everything from before and that...he could never go back home because home was gone. I'm sorry, that's all I know."

"That's fine," Carl nodded. "Thanks for your cooperation, Brittany." 

***

"Samuel Evans," Sam enunciated clearly. He was leaning slightly to the side and looked extremely serious and Blaine was instantly convinced that he'd watched about fifty trial movies in preparation for this exact moment. 

"Mr. Evans," David said smoothly. "What was your relationship with the accused, Mr. Smythe?"

"Not much of one," Sam admitted. "He was a friend of Blaine's--Mr. Anderson's--who's my client, so I heard a lot about him and I saw him every now and then at galas and parties."

"Mr. Evans, when was the first you heard of the serial killer that is referred to as the Tinman?"

"After his first murder. The whole island heard about it."

"Did you have any suspects as to who performed the murders?"

"Not really, no. I always assumed it was someone connected to the Wicked Cast since the only victims were singers in that company."

"Was Mr. Smythe at all connected to the cast?"

"Why yes..." Sam leaned forward to draw out the tension and Blaine almost beamed with pride at the cheesiness. "His boyfriend, Chandler Kiehl, was in the company."

"And what role did Mr. Kiehl play?"

"Boq," Sam said with quiet seriousness. "Who later becomes the Tinman."

"The prosecution rests."

Sam adjusted his position as he waited for Hunter to approach him.

"Mr. Evans," Hunter began. "When was the first time that you met Kurt Hummel?"

Sam blinked. "At Blaine's apartment in Greenwich Village early last November."

"And you didn't think it...strange at all that your client, and I'm assuming friend, Mr. Anderson had a sixteen year old boy staying at his apartment?"

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, at first, but then I talked to both of them and they were just working on Blaine's new novel together."

"Really? In what way?"

"Well, Kurt would sketch and do the fashion for the characters, I guess, and help Blaine outline. Stuff like that."

Hunter nodded, pacing back and forth a little. "Mr. Evans, Miss Jones said that you were the first to tell her of Sebastian Smythe."

Sam nodded. "That's true..."

***

Sam ran a wet hand through his hair as he knocked on the door again, cursing the fact that he hadn't packed a rain jacket. He'd have to buy one later.

The door opened and there was a teenage black girl in red pajamas staring back at him in confusion as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "Yes?"

"Are you Mercedes?"

She nodded. "If this is about Puck, then he's not here."

"No," Sam shook his head. "I'm here about Blaine Anderson? And Kurt Hummel?"

She blinked, a frown creasing her brow. "Kurt from McKinley Home?"

Sam nodded. "Can I come in?"

Wordlessly, she opened the door wider and waved him into her sitting room, disappearing down the hall briefly. Sam sat precariously on the couch as Mercedes reappeared, offering him a towel. 

"Thanks," he muttered.

"What's wrong with Kurt and Blaine?" she asked, sitting. "Kurt was supposed to come back from his trip two days ago, but he never showed..."

"Kurt was kidnapped," Sam said quietly. "In connection to a man named Sebastian Smythe who used to be his old foster brother. And now we're all here in Seattle trying to figure out where. So...if there's any information you have about Kurt's past...?"

"I..." she blinked, running her hands over her face. "I don't know. Kurt didn't like to talk about it."

"I know, Mercedes, but I mean, if there's anything, anything at all."

"He..." she bit her lip. "He didn't like houses. Like...the standard house with a family and two point nine kids. Like...it made him really uncomfortable?"

"Okay," Sam nodded. "That's good, that's good."

She raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

"Well...not to me, but I'm sure that Blaine or our attorney could make something of it. Is there anything else?"

She closed her eyes in frustration, thinking. "Nursery rhymes?"

Sam stared. "What, like Mary Had A Little Lamb?"

"Yeah," Mercedes nodded uncertainly. "When he first came here...and he was Dorothy, he kept singing all these different nursery rhymes. And when he stayed with me, he kept whistling that one song um..." She attempted to whistle it.

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Baa Baa Black Sheep?" 

"Yes! Exactly. He was always whistling it..."

"Okay," Sam nodded. "Well, thank you for your help, Mercedes."

"Wait!" She grabbed a piece of paper and scrawled down her number. "Please call me if you hear anything or if there's anything else I can do."

He smiled, taking the paper. "I will."

***

"Would you care to elaborate on the talk that you had?"

"I told her that we were looking for Kurt, who'd been kidnapped, and I asked her if she knew any information about his past?"

"And what did she tell you?"

"That Kurt didn't like traditional family homes--that they made him uneasy--and that he used to sing nursery rhymes a lot, Baa Baa Black Sheep in particular."

"And what did you make of this information when she first gave it to you?"

Sam shrugged. "I didn't think much of it. I assumed that the others might be able to."

"Really?" Hunter laced his fingers together. "Let's say as an editor. You didn't even maybe think that, perhaps, this might make a good story or novel for you to represent?" 

Sam looked thrown, completely confused. "I...guess?"

Hunter smiled. "The defense rests."

***

"Okay, what the hell is going on?" Sam demanded in the side run during the brief recess.

"Clarington's trying to spin it a certain direction," Santana sighed. "The problem is, we can't actually figure out which way."

"And he's asking an awful lot of questions about Kurt and Blaine as opposed to defending the claims made against his client," Trent muttered.

"That'll be tomorrow, after we grill Sebastian," David sighed. "It looks like he wants to wear us out first. But our best hope is that we end on a strong note tonight. Rachel." He turned to her. "You're the last person on the stand for today. Think you can manage?"

Rachel smiled, jutting her chin out. "Of course."

***

"Please state your name for the court."

"Rachel Barbra Berry."

"Ms. Berry," David started. "How long have you known the accused, Mr. Smythe?"

"A little over a year now," Rachel answered clearly. "He was an old friend of my husband's and he came to our wedding. But I knew him better when he started dating Chandler since the two of us were in a show together."

"And what was your...impression of Mr. Smythe?"

"He always made me uneasy," Rachel said with skilled trepidation. No wonder she was up for the Tony this year. "I spent a lot of time with Chandler and I could always tell that he was a bit nervous around his boyfriend."

David nodded. "And you knew the famed Scarecrow killer, Mr. Schuester, correct?"

"I did," Rachel nodded. "He was one of my first directors on Broadway. But...he was extremely possessive and it scared me. Half of the reason I agreed to marry Blaine was to get away from him." A well-placed shudder. "When he disappeared, I thought he'd be out of my life for good. But now..." She trailed off with her eyebrows arched imploringly in a haunted expression.

Blaine nearly had to wipe a tear from his eye.

"The prosecution rests."

Hunter approached the stand, smoothing his suit. 

"Ms. Berry. When was the first time you met Kurt Hummel?"

"I--" She blinked, thinking back. "--guess it was at the Wicked Gala when he went as Cooper's date."

"You guess?"

"I mean...it was the first time that I met Kurt, but I didn't know him as Kurt back then."

"Really? Who was he?"

"Um, Alexandra Bergamot. Well, that was the name he used."

"He was dressed as a female." It wasn't a question.

Rachel nodded. "Yes. And...later as Blaine's cousin. Ellie Grey."

"So you didn't know that your husband had a sixteen year old boy living with him?"

Rachel barely tensed, but Blaine spotted it. "No, I didn't."

"And you didn't think it strange that this boy was impersonating various women including your cousin-in-law? Didn't you think that this person might be a bit unstable?"

"Well, no," Rachel shook her head. "Blaine explained everything to me afterwards. Kurt had to hide his identity because the police were after him since he stabbed Blaine but--" She cut herself off, her eyes widening. "I mean--"

Blaine's heart sank in his chest.

"Did you just say that Mr. Hummel stabbed Mr. Anderson?" Hunter smiled, raising his eyebrows.

"I--" Rachel shot Blaine a brief panicked look. "It was all a misunderstanding--"

"The defense rests."

Shit.

***

Court was adjourned for the day after Rachel's testimony and somehow everyone wound up back in Blaine's hotel room, Santana ripping Rachel a new one, Rachel yelling back just as loud and giving Blaine a headache, Jesse joining in the fight, Mercedes trying to calm everyone, Chandler watching wide-eyed in the corner, and Sam trying to drown himself in alcohol.

Carl and David managed to pull everyone off of each other and reprimands went around.

Blaine honestly couldn't even bring himself to care and he just laid on his bed, laptop open on his stomach as he tapped his fingers thoughtfully against the keyboard.

"Well this has been way too much excitement," Sam sighed as he slid into bed next to Blaine, not before kicking his shoes off.

"And to think that I thought it'd be a boring trial this morning," Blaine murmured as he deleted a couple of words and tried a different combination.

Sam frowned. "Blaine, are you still working on this?"

"I...I have to Sam."

"No, you don't."

"Yes," Blaine said emphatically. "I do. Please don't argue with me about this."

Sam sighed, resting his head back on the pillow. "How did we end up in this situation?"

"Both accidentally falling for teenagers?"

Sam looked over at him sharply. "What?"

"I may be out of it, Sam, but I'm not checked out," Blaine rolled his eyes, still staring at the screen. "I saw you two in Seattle and I saw how pissed you got at Clarington when she was on the stand."

"Shut up," Sam murmured, turning his back to Blaine.

"Ah, the stage of denial. I remember it well." He winced. "Quite vividly, actually."

"Blaine." He turned to see Rachel staring at him from the foot of his bed. "Blaine, I'm really so sorry--"

"It's fine, Rachel," he waved his hand. "It probably would've come out anyways. I'll just make sure to be really thorough with my testimony."

***

Santana and David quietly exited the boisterous room into the hallway, firmly shutting the door behind him. "Do you think it'll work?" Santana whispered.

"Well, if Smythe's ego is anything to go on, it hopefully will," David muttered.

"But are you sure we shouldn't just tell Blaine the whole plan?" Santana asked. "It seems...I don't know, kind of cruel to do it this way, send him in blind when he doesn't know what'll happen."

"But we'll get the best testimony from him if he doesn't know," David stressed. "And that's what's important."

"But--"

"Santana, do you want to put Smythe away for good or not?"

Santana sighed. "Yeah. I do. More than anything."

She had made Kurt the promise all those years ago after all. 

"Good," David nodded, turning to open the door.

"One more thing."

David turned, eyebrows raised.

Santana bit her lip. "Do you think we should ask Sebastian about Eli C.?"

David averted his eyes, thinking hard. "Well...it's a gamble. Because if he's familiar with the name, he'd know we were onto him. If the name's just familiar, he could do his own digging..."

"...but if he doesn't know the name at all, then we'll definitely know that we're dealing with something else entirely," Santana finished.

David nodded. "What do you think?"

Santana folded her arms. "I think we should take the gamble."

"Okay. We'll ask him about Eli."

***

By eleven, Blaine was left alone in his hotel room once more, alcohol bottles confiscated by Sam and Santana. 

He stared at his screen, trying to write more but nothing was coming to mind and he closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep...

Ring and round the rosie

A pocket full of posies 

Ashes

Ashes

We all fall down

Blaine sat up, drenched in sweat as the colors still played out in front of his eyes. Everything was blurry and he reached up, wiping the tears from his eyes. He looked around the room, feeling extremely lost before he just curled in on himself and started crying. 

He cried for a very long time, until he felt tired and weary and a silvery golden light started creeping in through his window. At that point, he swung his legs over the edge of his bed and stood, going to the shower. 

The boiling hot water felt oddly comforting against his skin as he breathed the steam deep into his lungs. Then he completely scrubbed himself down with the generic white soap until his skin felt slightly stinging. He dried himself off after the shower and shaved his face completely until it was smooth. He combed his hair back with gel and even added a dot of cologne. Then he pulled on his black slacks and olive dress shirt and bronze tie that Santana had picked out for him, buttoning everything up so that he looked proper and respectable. He pulled on his black jacket and nearly laughed at his reflection. 

He looked like he did in high school. 

He put his handkerchief in his pocket which held the four beads Kurt used to wear in his hair along with the ruby belly button piercing.

Well...Blaine knew what they really were now.

He grabbed his bag and headed out to the courthouse.

***

Blaine sat in the prosecutor's box this time around, along with Chandler, Santana, and Jesse, since the four of them were all testifying today before Sebastian, and along with David, Trent, Judy, and Dottie, the area was a tad cramped.

Judy, Blaine, Chandler, Santana and Jesse were all jammed together on the bench while Trent and David got to sit at the table. Dottie had her own chair while she flipped through files. 

Jesse was up first.

"Mr. St. James," David said. "When did you first meet the accused, Mr. Smythe?"

"When we were kids," Jesse said evenly. "At the age of...nine, I think. We went to school together. When we started middle school, we became best friends."

"But this friendship didn't last?"

"No," Sebastian shook his head. "Sebastian had...a brother. He told me he was adopted so I never even guessed that he was a foster child until Carl showed us the evidence later. But Sebastian had a little brother that he'd...well...we'd tease him and get him in trouble. I knew that Mr. and Mrs. Smythe would hit him, but I was just a stupid preteen and--" Jesse broke off and sighed into his hands. He looked back up at the court, more determined than ever. "But that all changed when we were thirteen."

"What happened then?"

"I dropped by Sebastian's house to hang out and I heard screams from down in the basement and I went down and he was...torturing Kurt."

"How so?"

"With a whip," Jesse said evenly. "He was beating him and humiliating him and degrading him. It was horrifying."

"What happened then?" 

"He...he didn't even try to hide it," Jesse said quietly, the silent court hanging off his every last word. "He just grinned at me and asked me to join in. Wanted me to help."

"What did you do?"

"I asked Kurt if he was alright then...I ran. I was so freaked out."

"You didn't think to go to the police?" David raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. 

"No, definitely not," Jesse shook his head. "His father was the district attorney."

"But you did go to the police later, correct?" David asked. "The next year."

"Yes," Jesse nodded. "I heard that the Smythes were out of town and the last time that had happened was when I'd walked in on Sebastian and Kurt, so I returned that night just to make sure that nothing bad would happen." He hung his head. "I was too late."

"Why?"

"I went inside using the spare key and...there were screams and the sounds of a struggle and I was running towards the back room when I heard a sharp cutting noise. I...I walked back and saw Sebastian standing over Kurt and laughing. He had an axe in his hand and...and blood was everywhere. He'd cut off Kurt's genitals."

The silence in the courtroom was deafening.  

"What did you do then?" David asked quietly. 

"I grabbed a vase," Jesse said. "I didn't think it through all the way. I mean, it still had water and poppies in it and everything, but I smashed it into the back of Sebastian's head and he went out cold. I grabbed a blanket and tried to stop the blood coming from Kurt but he just kept screaming and the blood kept coming and--" He broke off, swallowing heavily. "I called the police and 911."

David nodded. "And what was your relationship with Mr. Smythe like after that incident?"

"Non existent. He moved away so I never saw him again until recently. Kurt, on the other hand, got in contact with me the Christmas before last because he said he was in trouble and needed money. I was home for the holidays so I offered my services and gave him all that I could before sending him off."

"What was Mr. Hummel like when you saw him then?"

"Different. Dressed as a girl. I didn't have the heart to ask why or what had become of Sebastian. I honestly just wanted to leave Ohio behind me and get back to my life in New York." 

"And when was the next time you made contact with Mr. Hummel?"

"Late last October. He called me and asked if he could stay at my place for a little while and I sent my uncle's private jet out to get him. He stayed in the city with me for a little while before staying with Blaine, who I learned he was friends with--"

Nice one there, Jesse, Blaine smiled wryly. 

"--and we attended a masquerade ball later that week, where Sunshine Corazon was murdered."

"And that was the last you saw of Mr. Hummel?" David asked.

"Correct. We were separated afterwards and Blaine called me to tell me that he went after Sebastian. I hadn't realized that Sebastian was in the city, let alone dating one of my coworkers, but I knew immediately that Kurt was in danger. I told Blaine as such. Blaine arrived on the scene while I called the police, but by the time the police arrived, Blaine was knocked out cold, Sebastian had fled, and Kurt was nowhere to be found."

"The prosecution rests."

Blaine shot Jesse a grateful smile before Hunter walked up to the stand.

"Mr. St. James, did Mr. Hummel have anything that he particularly cherished?"

Jesse looked momentarily thrown. "Um, I believe that he had a music box that he loved a lot."

"What song did the music box play?"

"Uh, it was Somewhere Over The Rainbow."

"I see," Hunter nodded. "And it was said earlier that Kurt Hummel was fond of nursery rhymes and riddles when he was younger. Do you remember him singing any?"

Jesse stared, bewildered. "Um...Baa Baa Black Sheep...Mary Mary, Quite Contrary...I don't know, all the usual ones?"

"Did you ever say anything odd to Mr. Hummel? Like...a riddle or anything?"

Jesse blinked. "I...no, not really?"

"You never told him a nursery rhyme? Or an odd quote?"

"I mean..." Jesse frowned. "Once I quoted like, the Mad Hatter at him."

"Really? What was the quote?"

"I asked him why a raven is like a writing desk and to name me things beginning with the letter M."

Hunter nodded. "The defense rests."

Jesse went back to the bench, sharing a bewildered look with Santana before she moved up to take the stand.

"What the hell was that about?" Blaine muttered.

"Who knows?" Chandler shrugged.

"I think that Hunter's finding his angle," Judy whispered. 

"But what is it?" Blaine frowned. "Fairy tales? Nursery rhymes? This doesn't make any sense..." 

They quieted back down as David stood in front of Santana.

"Miss Lopez, when was the first time you met Kurt Hummel?"

"When I was twenty-two," she answered evenly. "One of the summer jobs I took was cleaning houses to help pay for law school. One of those houses included the Smythe residence."

"And what was your experience at the Smythe residence?"

"Well, I met Kurt, who was thirteen and didn't talk very much, so I never really interacted with him. Until I accidentally walked in on him changing one day and saw his anatomy."

"What happened?"

"I got him to tell me what had happened and I was appalled by the story."

"What did you do then?"

"I went to the police, but I was ignored. I was also fired from the cleaning company. But before I left, I made Kurt a promise to get him out of there."

"But you never heard from him after?"

"No. I went back the next summer to look for him, but he didn't live there anymore."

"When was the next time you heard of him?"

"In New York, this past November. Sam--Mr. Evans--and I have been close friends since childhood and we'd been talking about the Tinman killings. He called me and told me something about Sebastian Smythe being the killer and a boy named Kurt being involved and I snapped into action, calling in favors across the board, even with my old professor." She nodded towards David. "There was no Karofsky residence, so we couldn't do a raid there, but we searched through Mr. Karofsky's Chicago apartment, which revealed nothing. Then raids on all of the Smythe households, but again nothing, so we were back to square one. We interviewed all of Kurt's past associates in Seattle to try and find a lead..."

***

Santana blinked. "What?"

"Dragon lady!" Brittany grinned at her. "You're fierce and hot and protective."

Santana stared. "O...kay?"

Brittany smiled. "I know you'll find my unicorn."

Santana smiled grimly. "Well, that's what I'm trying to do. Any chance that there's something else you've remembered? Anything Kurt mentioned at all?"

Brittany shrugged. "I don't know. Not really. Can I give you a tattoo?"

"What?" Santana squawked.

Brittany shrugged. "Working helps to clear my head and makes it easier to think. Plus I just really really want to give you a tattoo."

"No!"

Three days later found Santana lying on the table in Brittany's parlor, grouchily staring at the designs on the wall. 

"If this doesn't help you to remember something, I'm suing you."

Brittany just giggled as she drew a design from the side of Santana's right breast to the bottom of her right hip bone. 

Santana gritted her teeth as Brittany started working along her side, wincing occasionally at the pain.

"Poppies."

Santana looked over at Brittany who was staring at her with wide eyes.

"What?"

"Poppies. He...he said that he didn't like poppies because they were everywhere..."

"Poppies?" Santana frowned, biting her lip as she stared back at her ceiling.

The Smythe household didn't have poppies in front of it when she'd cleaned it. And the Karofsky household had been covered in hydrangeas, not poppies... So what could Kurt be talking about? 

Long after Brittany had finished the tattoo, Santana laid on the table, wondering.

"Would you like to see?"

Santana glanced over at the mirror that was held next to her body and she smiled at the patterned dragon that Brittany had tattooed, languorous and coiling down her side.

"For the dragon lady," Brittany smiled. "If you find unicorn, you don't have to pay for it."

Santana smiled. "Deal."

***

"...and we got a lead, which Blaine ended up recognizing before anyone else and that's how we found Kurt."

"The prosecution rests."

Hunter approached.

"Miss Lopez, what was the tip that you received which helped you find Mr. Hummel's location?"

"Poppies."

"Poppies?" Hunter repeated. "That was it? And Mr. Anderson was able to find Mr. Hummel from that one tip?"

"Yes."

"The defense rests."

Blaine exchanged a glance with Jesse as a sinking feeling in his stomach began to take hold. He was starting to get a vague inclination as to where Hunter was headed with all of this and he didn't like it one bit.

Chandler shuffled past Blaine, looking absolutely terrified on his way up to the stand.

Blaine didn't blame him. He'd probably be just as nervous too if he had to testify against his boyfriend.

"State your name for the court, please."

"Chandler Kiehl."

"Mr. Kiehl," David began. "How long were you in a relationship with the accused, Sebastian Smythe?"

Chandler twitched nervously. "Um, we started dating last May, then it ended last November because he disappeared."

"Were you with him at the times of the three Tinman murders, or when he was allegedly with Mr. Hummel in his apartment?"

"No, I wasn't."

"Did he tell you he was with anyone in particular during those times?"

"No, he didn't."

"So he gave you no alibi whatsoever?"

"No."

"The prosecution rests."

Chandler looked relieved before he realized that he still had to deal with Hunter.

"Mr. Kiehl," Hunter smiled. "Did you ever meet Kurt Hummel?"

Chandler broke out into a sweat and Blaine could hear Jesse groan lightly down the row. 

"Um, well, we met briefly at the Wicked gala, back when he was Alexandra Bergamot." 

"But you never really ever talked to him as Kurt? Everything you know about him is just hearsay?"

"I..." Chandler looked at their group. "I guess so?"

"The defense rests."

Blaine could practically feel Jesse's eye roll.

Then he realized that it was his turn.

It was odd, standing up and moving down the row and out of the box, exchanging an awkward smile with Chandler as he walked back in, receiving an encouraging smile from Santana and a gentle pat from Judy as he walked over to the high seat that he had to take. His ears seemed oddly muffled as the words to swear him in were stated with his hand on a bible and suddenly David was right there in front of him.

"Please state your name for the court."

Blaine cleared his through. "Blaine Anderson."

"Mr. Anderson, how long have you known the accused, Sebastian Smythe?"

"Um, about thirteen years roughly. Our parents knew each other quite well."

"So you knew him for quite a long time?"

"Yes."

"What was your impression of him when you were younger?"

"That he was a terrible fencer."

There was a brief titter in the courtroom. 

"Tell us in your own words what happened after you met Kurt Hummel in Seattle."

Blaine glossed over a lot, like the fact that he'd had a sexual relationship with an underage runaway and some of the more...er...risque parts and his marital situation with Rachel. But he went over everything else--the McKinley Home killings, figuring out that the culprit was Will Schuester, on to New York and the Tinma killings--again with tons of glossing--curving sharply around to the letter that Kurt had left him. And then the confrontation with Sebastian and losing Kurt again.

"So you went to Seattle with Miss Lopez, Mr. Evans, and Mr. St. James?"

"Correct," Blaine nodded. "We researched everything to death, sending teams to tear apart both Smythe and Karofsky residences to try and find Kurt but we couldn't find a trace of him, or Smythe or Karofsky."

"But this changed, obviously?"

Blaine nodded. "Miss Lopez got a lead from one of Kurt's friends who said that he didn't like poppies because they had 'been everywhere' and I figured out what he meant..."

***

"Blaine, calm down," Sam sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.

"How can I be calm?" Blaine raged, furiously going through all the documents for the thousandth time. "We literally have no idea where he is or what he could be doing. He's in the hands of two psychopaths and we have no leads!" He shoved all of the pages off of the table.

"Blaine, calm the fuck down!" Jesse snapped. "You're not the only one who cares about Kurt and you're not the only one who wants to see him safe and sound!"

"Shut up Jesse--"

"Hey!" Santana shouted as she slammed the door to Carl's office open, holding her right arm at an odd angle. "Everyone chill. We have a lead."

"Really?" Blaine stood, along with the others in the room.

Santana nodded. "Brittany remembered something else. Something about poppies? And Kurt not liking them because they were everywhere?"

"What the fuck does that even mean?" Sam groaned as he collapsed back in his spinny chair and then started spinning.

"Poppies?" Jesse muttered. "The Smythes didn't have poppies."

"And neither did the Karofsky's," Santana sighed, sitting down. "If we could just find out where he is. Maybe a poppy farm or--"

Blaine stumbled back, his hand over his mouth and Sebastian’s whispered last words echoing through his head.

"Go home, Blaine."

Sebastian had told him where Kurt was. 

He just hadn't realized it.

***

"...I realized that when Kurt said "poppies", he meant poppy wallpaper. A very specific wallpaper as well. One that both Sebastian and I had seen for four consecutive years of our lives--the bottom of the wallpaper at Dalton Academy in Westerville Ohio."

“What did you do then?”

“I didn’t tell any of them. I’m...not entirely sure why. But I ran. I got on the first flight to Ohio. I don’t know, I just had to save him. I had to make sure he was alright...”

Had to tell him the one thing he hadn’t managed to tell him yet.

“But then I got to Ohio and realized that I had to have a plan. I couldn’t just go bursting into the school lest I tip off Karofsky and then I’d be back at square one, unable to find Kurt. Luckily there was a banquet that night...”

***

Blaine hung around the Dalton campus and felt extremely creepy about it, but that feeling was vastly eclipsed by his all-consuming need to find Kurt.

***

“There’s a boarding option at Dalton, and the three nicest rooms that could be boarded out was the Fountain Suite, the Sycamore Suite, and the Poppy Suite. I knew that Sebastian had lived in the Poppy Suite while he’d gone to Dalton--his parents had told me as much. I waited outside the door...”

***

Blaine tried the door but it was locked. Cursing, he went down the hall by one of the tapestries and waited impatiently. 

Hours passed. The sun slowly sank from sight.

And still Blaine was waiting.

Finally, sometime after eight, the door opened and Dave Karofsky exited--or at least, Blaine assumed it was him from the photos he’d seen from Carl’s report--along with his blonde date that was leaning on his arm. He firmly locked the door behind him before they went down the hall, heading for the stairs.

Blaine waited for them to be out of sight before making his way swiftly to the door. Locked. Frustrated, he kicked it lightly, but that didn’t make any difference. He gnawed on his lip, thinking, before he went over to the Fountain Suite--the room he’d boarded in while attending Dalton--and reached along the edge. There’d always been that hidden latch that if he pressed just right...

The door swung open. 

He grinned, closing it firmly shut behind him.

A regular student lived in the Fountain Suite, his pictures posted with other friends and family members on his wall, along with a collage with his name in the middle, Thad.

Blaine walked around the room, looking for something, anything that could get him into the room across the hall. Nothing really. No spare keys lying around, no screwdrivers, no battering rams...

A navy blue flyer on Thad’s desk caught his eye and he leaned over and read it.

Dalton Academy Warblers Present

A Winter Wonderland

The annual winter Warbler fundraiser was tonight. He remembered hosting it four years in a row.

A plan formed in his head. An incredibly stupid plan, but honestly it was the only one he had. With a sigh, he wrenched open Thad’s closet, praying that he was at least somewhat close to his size.

***

“I followed Karofsky down to the party in hopes of lifting his key off of him, but I found something else instead...”

***

The dining hall of Dalton Academy was decorated in long silky white drapes, sparkling crystal chandeliers, and soft slim white candles everywhere. The trilling of the a cappella Warblers floated through the air softly as various parents and patrons moved about in expensive finery, clinking glasses of white wine with one another as superficial sycophantic conversation added to the pleasant buzz of the room.

Blaine smoothed a hand over his jaw--making sure it was completely hairless--and patted his gelled hair. It was a stretch, but he at least looked like an old senior. Maybe he could say he was held back a year if push really came to shove.

He walked through the crowds, offering charming smiles and warm “Happy Holiday”s and firm handshakes. Glancing around the room, he kept his eye out for a tall bulky frame.

Instead, he spotted a tall lanky frame and quickly turned his back, hastily grabbing a plate and filling it with mini cheesecakes as Sebastian walked by. 

Blaine ducked his head, taking a large bite and watching Sebastian slowly walk away out of the corner of his eye. Karofsky might or might not know what he looked like, but he probably didn’t know what he looked like fully shaven and hair slicked back. Sebastian, on the other hand, most certainly did. 

He slid around the edge of the banquet table to sit at one of the smaller ones, watching people on the dance floor while the Warblers sang White Christmas.

There was a soft humming next to him and Blaine looked over, eyebrows raising when he saw Karofsky’s date, sitting in a ruffly white dress hugging her slim frame, a stylish white collar necklace, and pale hair piled high. He gave a small nod and a smile to her before looking around the nearby areas to see if her date was close.

Then his eyes widened and he looked back at the girl.

Even with wispy blonde hair and a ruffly dress, he’d know those blue eyes anywhere.

“Kurt,” he breathed, lurching forward before remembering himself, casting a wary eye around. “Kurt, are you okay?”

Kurt just turned to look at him slowly, eyes heavy-lidded and corners of his red painted lips turning up slightly. He looked drugged out of his mind.

Blaine scooted around to the other end of the small round table, grasping Kurt’s shoulder lightly, giving him a slight shake. 

Kurt jerked a little, sliding his hazy blue eyes over to Blaine. His eyebrows drew together in confusion as he opened his mouth, lips trying to form words but no sound came out.

“Kurt...” Blaine put his hand on Kurt’s cheek and Kurt’s eyes fluttered close as he nuzzled his head lazily into Blaine’s palm.

Blaine stood, pulling Kurt up from his chair. “I’m getting you out of here.”

They moved haphazardly around the banquet table, Blaine trying to hurry and Kurt sluggishly stumbling along. “Come on, just one--”

“What do you think you’re doing with my date?”

Blaine froze and in that moment he literally hated himself for not telling Santana where he was going. But then he took a deep breath and turned, plastering on a charming smile for Dave Karofsky. “Oh! Is she your date? I’d just asked her to dance and she nodded...”

Dave raised his eyebrows in surprise. “And you are...?”

Shit. “Elliott...Elliot Grey.”

Well...he tried. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know she was taken. I just thought I’d ask for a dance...” 

Dave flickered his eyes “Is that so, Katy?”

Kurt’s eyes flickered lazily as he slowly nodded. 

Dave frowned lightly before shrugging nonchalantly. “Only one dance,” he said jokingly with a wink. “I’m a jealous man.” 

Blaine laughed along with him, nodding, internally freaking out as he led Kurt onto the dance floor. The notes in the air changed as the Warblers started a soft jazzy version of Moonlight Serenade. 

Arms wrapped around each other as Blaine pulled Kurt close, staring into his wide out-of-focus eyes. “Kurt,” he whispered. “Kurt please, say something."

Kurt blinked hazily, leaning forward to touch his nose to Blaine’s as Blaine hastily turned his back to Karofsky so that they couldn’t be easily observed. 

“Kurt please,” Blaine whispered. “Please, you have to snap out of it. We have to get out of here.”

Kurt let out a soft whimper as he dragged his hand over Blaine’s shoulder to the back of his neck, fingers curling in the gelled locks. 

“Come on,” Blaine urged desperately. He dragged his finger down Kurt’s abdomen and pressed it sharply into his bellybutton. “There’s no place like home, remember? There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like--”

“Anderson.”

Suddenly he was yanked back from Kurt, Sebastian holding his arm in a vice grip as Dave yanked Kurt in the opposite direction.

“I thought I smelled earl grey tea and convoluted plot lines,” Sebastian smirked, his breath overbearingly hot on Blaine’s ear. “Now why don’t we take this somewhere a little less public?” 

“Come on, Katy,” Dave muttered, pulling Kurt away.

But Kurt was blinking, his eyes becoming a shade less hazy as he looked back up at Sebastian and Blaine. 

‘Blaine?’ he mouthed, his lips forming around the word, but no sound coming out. 

It was one of those snap decisions that a person doesn’t really think through and later they usually realize that it was actually an incredibly stupid plan, but Blaine decided in that moment to let out a high pitched screech. 

The scream cut through the dining hall and caused everyone to freeze, but it did manage to make Sebastian loosen his grip in shock and Blaine shoved away from him, running full out for the door.

He reached it and shoved both of his hands down the multitude of light switches, bathing the room in darkness save for the softly glowing candles.

There were screams of panic and bustling about and--thankfully--a lot of blazer-clad boys for Blaine to get caught up in the mix with. 

He searched through the soft glow of light, avoiding getting trampled as he looked for a bright white dress. Something caught on his foot and he went sprawling, twisting around to realize that he’d tripped over Kurt, who was sweating profusely on the ground. 

Blaine snapped to action, grabbing his arm and pulling him up with the crowd as he rushed to get through the door and outside.

They skidded to a stop when he spotted Sebastian at the door, grabbing each blazer boy that passed him and looking at them hard before shoving them away.

“Come on,” Blaine muttered, taking a sharp turn to the left to the door with the staircase. They climbed upwards, up to the fourth floor where all the suites were. Blaine dragged his fingers along the door frame of the Fountain Suite before pushing the latch and shoving the door open, hauling Kurt inside and locking it firmly behind them.

***

“And I discovered why Kurt hadn’t said anything...”

***

“Kurt,” Blaine breathed, walking over to cup Kurt’s face between his hands. “Kurt, are you alright?”

Kurt brought his hands up to rest on top of Blaine’s wrists, squeezing them lightly as he licked his lips and opened his mouth at Blaine.

“What is it?” Blaine murmured. “What’s wrong? Kurt, please tell me what’s wrong.”

Kurt squeezed Blaine’s wrists tighter before letting go of one to grasp at his white necklace collar.

Blaine’s eyebrows furrowed as he untied the white ribbons that held it together at the back. The necklace fell to reveal a thick metal band that was latched tightly around the circumference of Kurt’s neck, constricting it. 

“Oh my god.” The necklace fell from Blaine’s hands in shock as he moved hastily around Kurt, fingers dragging along the metal, trying to find a catch or a cinch, anything. There was a tiny latch at the back that Kurt’s fingers were pawing at uselessly and Blaine quickly batted them away. He twisted the little screw and Kurt’s body jerked, fingers clawing at Blaine’s fingers.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Blaine whispered hastily as he turned the screw the other way and the metal collar slowly loosened. He did his best to ignore the cold metal loop attached to the back that looked well-used and the implications that afforded. After about twenty seconds, the collar gave way and half of it popped of, Kurt taking a step away as he started gulping down breaths, coughing and clutching at his rubbed-raw neck.

“Thank you,” he rasped. Then he stumbled forward, tripping over his heels and falling to the ground.

“Kurt--!”

Kurt held up a hand and got back to his feet, stumbling to the bathroom to throw up in the toilet. Blaine hurried in after him, clicking on the light as Kurt clutched the toilet bowl tightly, retching over and over and over into it, his blonde hair falling in his face and catching in his mouth.

Blaine gently pulled the wig off of Kurt’s head, throwing it into the bathtub before stroking Kurt’s back, murmuring utter nonsense like, “It’s okay. It’s alright. It’s fine.” when everything was so clearly not.

After a couple of minutes, Kurt rested his cheek on the cold porcelain ledge and Blaine grabbed a wad of toilet paper and wetted it in the tub before gently cleaning Kurt’s lips and mouth and neck and cheeks. He threw the wad into the toilet and flushed it, gently coaxing Kurt off the edge. “Kurt?” He wiped at Kurt’s teary cheeks.

Kurt turned his head slowly to look up at him. “Blaine?”

Blaine nodded, trying to blink back tears.

Kurt’s arms loosely wound around Blaine as he slid slowly into his lap. “Blaine,” he cried quietly. “Blaine.”

“I’m here,” Blaine whispered into Kurt’s neck, pressing a soft kiss to the raw skin. “I’m here. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Kurt just cried quietly into Blaine’s neck and the two just sat in a sordid pile of navy blazer and white taffeta.

***

“After Kurt fell asleep, I called Santana. She was furious, but relieved that we were both okay. She and Carl hopped on the first flight out to Ohio and told us to hang tight because they’d called local authorities and they’d get us in the morning.”

Blaine licked his lips. This was as far as David had told him to tell and he knew the reasons why he wasn’t supposed to go on, but he didn’t agree with them at all. So he took a deep breath and continued.

“But then in the morning--”

“The prosecution rests,” David said firmly, giving Blaine a look.

Blaine wilted slightly as David went back to the prosecutor’s box and Hunter approached him with a sickly smile.

“Mr. Anderson. Mr. Hummel told you his account of William Schuester’s manic behavior, correct?”

“Yes,” Blaine said clearly.

“But did you hear Mr. Schuester confess any of his plans to Mr. Hummel personally?”

“No,” Blaine frowned. 

“I see,” Hunter nodded. “And did you see the accused, Sebastian Smythe, whip Mr. Hummel?”

“I--” Blaine paused. “I heard it--”

“I believe that you said that you heard whipping noises, Mr. Hummel screaming, and then you walked in.”

“Well I surmised from the sounds and the fact that Kurt was handcuffed to a table with blood dripping down his back and Sebastian was standing over him with a whip in his hand that was covered in Kurt’s blood that he’d been abusing him!” Blaine snapped back.

“Just answer the question, Mr. Anderson,” Hunter said dryly. “Did you or did you not see Mr. Smythe whipping Mr. Hummel?”

Blaine gritted his teeth together. “No.”

“And...Ms. Berry said earlier that Kurt Hummel stabbed you? Would you care to elaborate on that?”

Blaine clenched his jaw. “I accused him of being the killer in Seattle and told him I’d called the police. We had an altercation because he thought I’d figured out about his past and so we...struggled and he accidentally stabbed me.”

“Is that so?” Hunter said. “And were there any other times that he pulled a knife on you?”

“No.”

“Really? He didn’t pull a knife on you after he thought that you were the Tinman killer?”

Blaine’s eyes widened because how the hell could he possibly know that? He hadn’t told anyone except for Santana and David...

Blaine’s eyes flickered over to the two faces in the prosecutor’s box.

They had a mole.

“Mr. Anderson? Please answer the question.”

“Yes,” Blaine sighed. “He thought I was a serial killer, so he pulled a knife on me.”

Hunter smiled. “The defense rests.”

Blaine walked down from the stand and squeezed back in next to Chandler and Judy, all of them facing forward and attentive as a handcuffed Sebastian Smythe took the stand.

There was a hot rushing in Blaine’s ears as he stared down Sebastian, wanting nothing more than to shove the door of the prosecutor’s box open and walk up to the stand and wring his lanky neck and that actually sounded like a really good idea--

Judy suddenly put her hand on his leg. “Blaine, calm down,” she whispered.

“Seriously,” Chandler breathed, gripping the edge of the bench with white knuckles. “You’re scaring me, man.” 

Blaine shut his eyes and breathed slowly in through his nostrils, counting down from ten.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“I do.”

“You may be seated.”

Blaine’s eyes opened again as David walked in front of Sebastian.

“Mr. Smythe. Where were you on the nights of the murders of Harmony East, Cassandra July, and Sunshine Corazon?”

“I was at my apartment for the former two. I’d originally had plans with my boyfriend but he’d cancelled on me so I just spent the night in.”

Chandler started shaking and Blaine put a hand on his wrist to calm him down.

“And for the latter, I was at masquerade ball, along with most of the other  witnesses.”

“Have you ever wielded an axe, Mr. Smythe?”

“I have not.”

“Despite the eyewitness account from Mr. St. James?”

“Jesse partied a lot. I’m pretty sure he was under the influence of some drug at the time that he crashed into my house. I don’t blame him for seeing things.”

“And have you ever struck a person with a whip?”

“No.”

“Despite both Mr. St. James and Mr. Anderson claiming to have seen you with one?”

“I can only speak the truth. I never have.”

Blaine felt like lighting something on fire. Preferably Sebastian.

“Mr. Smythe, do you know anyone by the name or alias of Eli C.?”

That seemed to throw Sebastian momentarily and he looked briefly baffled before answering slowly, “...no. I don’t know any person by that name or alias.”

David nodded. “The prosecution rests.”

“What?” Blaine whispered, looking from Sebastian to David. “No way, that can’t be all that he’s asking.”

“Maybe he’s saving everything for the cross examination?” Chandler guessed with a shrug.

“It’d make sense,” Jesse murmured. “Let Hunter fire all of his shots and then work on derailing them.”

Blaine nodded, leaning back against his seat, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going horribly wrong with this trial.

“Mr. Smythe,” Hunter smiled. “When did you first meet Kurt Hummel, also known as Katherine Karofsky?”

“When I was eleven,” Sebastian answered succinctly. “He was taken into my home as a foster child.”

“And what was your impression of the young Mr. Hummel?”

“I thought he was a...spirited child. Wild imagination of course, but not too odd. He had a thing for nursery rhymes and the Wizard of Oz and Alice in Wonderland. Stories like that.”

“Was Kurt ever abused at your home?”

“He was...disciplined,” Sebastian sighed, rubbing a hand dramatically over the back of his neck. “He was very fond of telling small lies, so my parents would sometimes slap the back of his hand but then he’d go screaming through the house about how they’d abused him and...over the years it just got worse and worse so we ended up sending him to Dr. Karofsky--”

“You sent him to Dr. Paul Karofsky?” Hunter clarified. “Why?”

Sebastian blinked. “Because Kurt was delusional. He’d go around assigning fairytale names to everyone from stories he’d read and then make his assumptions based on those. He’d...he’d hurt himself. He’d always say that there were jitterbugs under his skin and he’d scratch himself a lot, especially across his back, just from side to side, side to side...” He trailed off. “And then...one night I found him in the kitchen with a chopping block knife and...he was just smiling. Smiling up at me with the blood pooling around him, not even screaming in pain despite how he’d mutilated himself.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Blaine whispered.

“So we sent him to get help,” Sebastian sighed. “Dr. Karofsky diagnosed Kurt with an acute form of schizophrenia. The information for which is compiled in that report on the evidence table.”

Hunter held the packet up for the court to see.

“He has to be lying,” Blaine muttered. 

“He’s not,” Santana breathed. “We checked it out. Paul Karofsky got other psychiatrists to verify. Kurt Hummel did have a rare but very real form of schizophrenia.”

“What?” Blaine whispered, turning back to watch the trial. And then a very dangerous feeling started to creep up on him.

Doubt.

“We couldn’t keep him anymore eventually,” Sebastian sighed. “No other foster family wanted him so we let him stay as long as he could, but we just couldn’t help him the way that he needed to be helped. And Dr. Karofsky said that we could help treat him better if he took him into his family so...” Sebastian broke off with a shudder. “Plus Kurt had been sort of creeping us out with all the nursery rhymes he’d sing.”

“Creeping you out in what way?”

“Well,” Sebastian cringed. “He kept singing Lizzie Borden.” 

“Would you please say the lyrics of the song for the court?”

“Lizzie Borden took an axe and gave her father forty whacks. When she’d realized what she’d done, she gave her mother forty-one.” 

"Would you mind telling the court Kurt Hummel's middle name?"

Sebastian sighed. "Elizabeth. We assumed he was talking about himself."

“So you were fearful for your lives?”

“Yes,” Sebastian stressed. “It’s...it’s just so difficult with Kurt. He seems like such a sweet boy, but then he gets under your skin and starts accusing and doing all of these malicious things...and I’ve had to watch it over and over again.”

“You mean with the recent events,” Hunter said gently.

“Yes. The fire at the Karofsky house...killing Paul and Chelsea...I knew it had to be Kurt when I first heard. And the fact that he went missing after that. After hearing the full story of the Scarecrow killings as well, and how Blaine’s account of William Schuester came from Kurt...I knew something was wrong. Such a fanciful story of coincidence and luck and realization at the precise right time...it reminded me of all those set-ups that Kurt had done when we were younger.”

“Do you mean to say...that you think Kurt was the Scarecrow killer?”

“Exactly!” Sebastian looked at the court desperately. “He’s a lunatic, the report says so! Half of these stories are based just off his word and he’s had a chronic history of an imagination gone wild and lying his face off! I mean, he killed Dave Karofsky!”

Sebastian turned his gaze to Blaine, an almost-smile tugging on his lips as he belted out his last blow. “And then he killed himself for god’s sake!” 

***

Blaine blinked his eyes open slowly, feeling warm breath on his neck. He took in the cream colored bathroom, frowning because it was both extremely familiar and like a long forgotten dream and why was he in his old high school bathroom? Had everything been a dream? Was he really just still at Dalton, waiting to take his European history exam?

Then there was a soft moan by his ear and everything snapped back into place.

He looked down at Kurt who’s eyelashes still had thick mascara on them and there was silver eyeshadow around his eyes and the deep red lipstick had smudged from wiping his mouth last night and his neck was red and sore from where the metal collar had been and his hair oddly matted from being under the wig and the white taffeta dress was all crumpled around him and he had Blaine’s stolen blazer draped over him which Blaine had done sometime late last night and he was holding onto Blaine’s tie to keep him close or something and he honestly just looked like complete and utter perfection.

Because he was here, in Blaine’s arms, after over a month of searching. 

“Kurt,” Blaine murmured gently, stroking Kurt’s cheek. “Kurt, wake up.”

Kurt nuzzled his nose against the end of Blaine’s collarbone, moaning a little in the back of his throat.

“Come on, Kurt. Come on, you’ve gotta wake up. Come on, come on...”

Kurt crinkled his nose before opening his eyes slowly, blinking widely. “Blaine?” he rasped.

Blaine nodded, smiling. 

Kurt sat up suddenly, putting a hand to his head like he had a brief headache before he stared at Blaine, bringing his hand up to touch his cheek softly. “It’s...it’s you.”

“It’s me,” Blaine said, bringing his hand up to lightly rest on Kurt’s wrist.

Kurt just continued to stare at him incredulously, the silvery morning sunlight shining across his eyes and making them glow. “You’re real...”

“Of course I’m real,” Blaine smiled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Suddenly, Kurt was lurching into Blaine’s arms, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck. “Oh thank god!” he sobbed, pulling Blaine as close to him as possible. “I thought--I thought you’d disappear. You always do in the morning.”

“I’m here,” Blaine murmured soothingly, rubbing his hands down Kurt’s back. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

“I thought I was losing my mind,” Kurt cried, burrowing into Blaine’s shoulder. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I’ll always find you, Kurt,” Blaine smiled. “Trust me, I’ve gotten this far.”

Kurt pulled back, looking into Blaine’s eyes like he was seeing them for the first time before leaning forward for a kiss.

Even though they were on an uncomfortable marble floor and in crinkly clothes and Kurt’s mouth still tasted vaguely like vomit, Blaine literally couldn’t have given less of a fuck because Kurt was here and safe and in his arms and they were going to be okay for once.

“Kurt,” he breathed, pulling back to look at his face and commit it to memory. “Kurt...oh Kurt.”

Kurt pushed their foreheads together, sighing gently.

“We have to leave soon,” Blaine murmured. “The police will arrive.”

“Police?” Kurt pulled back, looking at Blaine, frightened.

“No!” Blaine said quickly, rubbing his hand across Kurt’s back. “No no no, sweetheart. They’re here to arrest Sebastian and Karofsky. Then they’re going to take us to a safe place, okay?”

“Safe?” Kurt whispered.

“Safe,” Blaine nodded with a smile. “We’re going to be okay, Kurt. This nightmare is over.” 

Kurt nodded, a small smile creeping on his lips. “We’re going to be okay...”

“Yes.”

His smile grew into a full-blown grin. “Oh my god, we’re going to be okay, Blaine!” He laughed, hugging Blaine tightly. “Thank you thank you thank you...”

“We will. Those two monsters will be put away for good.”

“What about the other guy?”

Blaine frowned before pulling back. “What?”

Kurt’s brows furrowed. “The guy who’d come in to do my makeup?”

“Um...” Blaine shrugged. “I guess if they find a third guy, they’ll put him away too for association.”

“Okay,” Kurt nodded, snuggling back into Blaine.

They stayed that way for some time before Blaine managed to coax Kurt up and off of the floor. They took a shower together to wash the vomit off of them, Kurt giggling when Blaine started kissing under his neck, loofah pressed between them. Blaine winced when he washed Kurt’s back, gently running his hands down the newer scars that had marred his tattoos. A handful of the wounds looked incredibly recent and Kurt hissed as the soap oozed into the nearly-bloody ridges. Then they both washed each other’s hair, just staring one another in the eye as they used up the rest of Thad’s shampoo.

They got dressed in two of the Dalton uniforms in Thad’s closet. Kurt reassured Blaine that winter break at Dalton had started the day before so they were in the clear as far as being walked in on went. Blaine just nodded, slack-jawed as he stared at Kurt in the blazer, his wet hair combed neatly down.

Kurt blinked. “What?”

“You look hot,” Blaine blurted out, walking forward to fix Kurt’s collar.

A surprised smile curled Kurt’s lips. “Oh really?”

“Uh...yeah,” Blaine nodded. “I mean, with your hair and...shoulders...yeah.”

Kurt tried to hold back his grin as he straightened Blaine’s tie. “Well, I must say, though I love your messy hair and stubbly cheeks, this whole gel and clean-shaven look is very debonair on you.”

“Oh really?” Blaine echoed teasingly.

“Really,” Kurt grinned as he leaned forward for a sweet kiss. He pulled back, licking his lips. “Okay, let’s go.”

Blaine grinned goofily at him as they went over to the door, unlocking it. 

“Blaine?”

Blaine turned back to Kurt who was biting his lip nervously.

“Um...just in case you didn’t read that letter I left you, um...well, I--”

“You love me.”

Kurt looked up at him apprehensively, a blush staining his cheeks. “Um...well, yes.”

Blaine smiled. “Well...I guess this is as good a time as any.”

Kurt’s eyes lit up as Blaine took his hand.

“Kurt Hummel. I--”

The door slammed open, hitting Blaine hard on the side of the head and he hit the ground. His brain throbbed and the world tilted at an odd angle  and he heard someone scream his name.

“Blaine!”

He blinked, his eyelashes dragging against the grainy hardwood as his head throbbed. 

“Blaine! Blaine please Blaine!”

Blaine slowly pressed his palm against the ground, pushing himself up shakily before a foot came out of nowhere and cracked his nose, causing him to collapse to the floor again.

The screaming of his name seemed a whole lot more far off now...

The second kick to his ribs snapped everything into clarity and he raised his arms over his head in time to block the next kick to his face.

“Stop it! Please, you’re hurting him!”

“Uh, that’s kind of the point? Jesus, Dave, can’t you control your little...well whatever he/she is at this point?”

“Blaine!”

Blaine looked up to see Kurt wrestling with Karofsky, who was trying to pull him backwards into the hall.

“Stop! Let go of me! Let g--” Karofsky clamped a hand around Kurt’s mouth, wrapping the other around his waist as he forcibly hauled him out of the room. Kurt grabbed onto the doorframe desperately.

Sebastian smirked before slamming the door hard over Kurt’s fingers. 

The resulting cracks and screams broke Blaine out of the remaining fog as Kurt’s fingers let go of the door and Sebastian closed it firmly shut.

“Ah ah ah,” Sebastian crooned as he pressed his heel very firmly down on Blaine’s chest when he tried to get up, pulling out a gun. “Remember this?”

Blaine did. It was the gun that Sebastian had taken from him the same night he’d taken Kurt.

Sebastian kneeled down, pressing his knees deep into Blaine’s chest as he leaned his full weight over his body, a wide malicious grin on his face. “You know, Blaine? I was supposed to let you go. To take it easy on you. That was the real reason that Kurt came to me that night, to take the fall so you wouldn’t have to take his place. But--” He grabbed a handful of Blaine’s hair and yanked his head sharply up so that their eyes were inches away. “You had to go and play the hero. Try and rescue Kurt. My plaything.” His hand tightened and Blaine hissed. “I don’t do well when others try to take my playthings, Blaine. Don’t you remember?”

The floors rattled as Sebastian slammed Blaine’s head down into them.

“Remember when I was thirteen and you beat me at fencing during that soiree that your parents were holding at the country club so you got the medal? Yeah, I went home that night and whipped Kurt’s back raw. And the next time. And the time after that. When I didn’t get the lead Warbler position my sophomore year, I came up to that room across the hall and whipped Kurt while drinking lemonade. And then I poured the rest down his back. Apparently there’s some truth to squeezing lemon juice over a cut...”

“Stop it,” Blaine whispered, shoving at the arm over his throat, trying to block out the testimony that Sebastian was giving him.

“Not as bad as the time I did body shots off Kurt’s bleeding back. Well, it was more just squeezing lime juice and mixing it with salt and tequila then pouring all that over Kurt’s back.” 

Blaine shoved against the arm, squirming his body but Sebastian crouched up on his knees so that he was trapped.

“But the time I nearly killed him. That was my favorite. Holding his head in the bathtub...” He licked his teeth as he leaned closer to Blaine, eyes twinkling. “His arms were flailing. Splashing around. He got my blazer wet. I knew I couldn’t really kill him but I honestly didn’t even care...”

“You’re so fucking sick,” Blaine burst out, rage filling him. “I swear to god if you touch one more hair on his head--”

“You’ll what?” Sebastian laughed. “Didn’t you promise him safety back in New York? And look what happened then: as soon as I met back up with darling Kurt and his charmless husband, I had the opportunity to spend hours with Kurt. And I pushed my limits, Blaine. I really did. I spent days.”

He leaned in even closer so that their noses were touching. “So you know what we’re going to do now, Blaine? You and I are going to have a little fun.” He let go of Blaine’s hair to reach back into his pocket and pulled out a pair of silver handcuffs. “I’m going to handcuff you to that bed and work on your back until you’re begging me to stop. And then--and only then--will I drag you by your hair across the hall so we can watch Davey go at Little Miss Muffet over there. 

The door opened slowly behind Sebastian and a clothes-torn blood-covered Kurt walked in slowly, eyes wide.

“And god, if you think I’m bad you should see Davey,” Sebastian laughed. “It’s practically hysterical. Little Kurt crying and begging and pleading but Davey just shoves his head further into the pillow.”

Blaine’s eyes flickered over to Kurt’s and Kurt gingerly picked up a vase with his palms and thumbs, his broken fingers useless as they stuck out at odd angles.

“Seriously, Blaine?” Sebastian rolled his eyes. “You’re doing the whole ‘Watch Out There’s Something Behind You’ routine?”

“Well there is,” Kurt said coldly before bringing the vase down hard over Sebastian’s head.

Blaine knocked the gun out of the way and used Sebastian as a shield from falling shards before shoving him off, leaping to his feet and grabbing Kurt’s arm as they closed the door shut.

“Karofsky?”

“I...” Kurt shuddered. “He’s dead. I--I--”

“It’s okay,” Blaine said. “It’s okay, we just have to get out of here. The police are on their way, remember?” 

Kurt hesitated before nodding. “Right. And they’ll take us to a safe place?”

“And they’ll take us to a safe place,” Blaine echoed. “Come on.” He tried to take Kurt’s hand but Kurt hissed, his fingers still broken. “Sorry,” Blaine muttered, taking his arm instead as they hurried down the hall.

A door opened behind them and a shot rang out, shattering the vase that was inches from Kurt.

They both spun around to see Sebastian, gun raised and livid.

“Run!” 

Another shot missed Blaine by inches.

The staircase was still fifty feet away.

“This way!”

Blaine dragged Kurt sharply to the left, through the door and the stairs that led up to the roof. 

Another shot on the staircase.

They burst out of the door and onto the Dalton roof. Blaine paused and turned around.

“Blaine!” Kurt said incredulously. “What are you doing?”

As soon as Sebastian opened the door, Blaine punched him. The two grappled as Blaine tried to wrestle the gun from him and another shot was fired into the air.

Sebastian managed to get the handcuffs out and handcuffed one of Blaine’s hands, trying to reach around and do the other. Blaine slammed them both against the stairwell brick wall and another shot hit the roof.

Kurt grabbed the back of Sebastian’s hair and as another shot fired and it caused enough distraction for Blaine to grapple with the other end of the handcuff, which had snaked behind a pipe on the wall, and close it around Sebastian’s wrist. 

Sebastian yanked his head away from Kurt’s hand to stare at their predicament. Both of them were chained together but neither could get free from the wall because the small metal chain was behind a rather large and sturdy pipe.

The sound of sirens filled the air.

“Give it up, Sebastian,” Blaine said, trying to keep gloating to a minimum. “The police are here.”

Sebastian stared at him before pointing the gun at Kurt.

“No!” Blaine yelled.

“On second thought...” Sebastian considered thoughtfully. He yanked his end of the chain so that Blaine’s arm was forced up, stretching taut as Sebastian put the gun against his ribs. “Much better. Direct shot this way.”

“No!” Kurt screamed, stepping forward.

“Ah ah ah,” Sebastian tutted. “One more step and I pull the trigger.”

Kurt froze, looking between Blaine and Sebastian, tears filling his eyes. “What do you want? Immunity? Us to let you go?”

Sebastian smiled almost fondly. “No no, Kurt. I want what I’ve always wanted. To see you in pain. And I think a bullet in Blaine would make you devastated for life.”

“Please,” Kurt pleaded. “Please, anything else, please!”

“Shh,” Sebastian said gently. “You know I always offer you an alternative--though admittedly it was usually the whip or the axe...But the same goes for here. I’ll let Blaine go...if you jump off the roof.”

“No,” Blaine said immediately. “No, Kurt you can’t!”

Kurt started crying as he stumbled backwards towards the edge of the roof. He stepped up onto the ledge.

“Kurt, I swear to god if you take one more step back--”

“Blaine, just shut up!” Kurt yelled, wiping his eyes. “Shut up, please just shut. Up!”

“No!” Blaine yelled. “I will not shut up, I’m never going to shut up because you aren’t going to do this!”

“I have to!” Kurt cried desperately. “Jesus, Blaine. Don’t you know what you mean to me? You’re the first person to ever, ever see me for who I am and not just some stupid pawn and--” He broke off, wiping his eyes against his sleeve. “You’re too good, Blaine. You’re too good, and I love you and I’m not going to let him hurt you!”

“Well what about me?” Blaine demanded, tears running down his face. “What about me, Kurt? I don’t get to say if he hurts you or not? You already sacrificed yourself for me once. I’m not going to let you do it again!”

“And why not?”

“Because I love you, you stupid petulant imperfect wonderful idiot!” Blaine exploded. “I love you, Kurt and I’ve watched you hurt too many times and cry too many times and be in pain too many times and not been able to help you! All I’ve ever wanted to do was help you! That’s the only thing I’ve been sure about since I was seventeen!”

Kurt stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

Blaine sagged against his handcuff. “You told me. The happiest memory from before was your music box, right? The one that played Somewhere Over The Rainbow that you’d gotten from your favorite person in the world. The one that broke and so you kept the four pieces of it that you could find--two white and two black beads that you started wearing in your hair later on, and a large ruby that you had made into a belly button piercing.”

Kurt blinked back tears as his mouth fell open. “How could you possibly know that?” 

Blaine sighed sadly. “Because that box had been my grandmother’s.” 

***

“It just reminds me of him too much,” Nana said, handing the box over to Blaine.

His mother was wiping tears from her eyes as she petted her new string of pearls. His father looked mournful with his cigar cutter. Cooper looked devastated with his tie clip. 

Blaine was honestly trying to feel sad or something, but he was pulling a blank.

Pop’s funeral had been earlier that morning and now Nana was pawning off all of her items that she’d kept in the joint hospital room with the two of them--all of her treasures.

Blaine felt like this should be one of the great moving moments of his life, but all he could think about was the quiz on Thursday and the new Warbler routine that they had to practice.

So he held the music box awkwardly in his lap as his family members each started crying and then it just got awkward so he left the hospital room and wandered the halls. 

After a few minutes, he realized that he probably looked ridiculous--high school student in full funeral garb, wandering around a hospital with an antique music box in his hands. So he decided to head back the scenic route which took him down a different ward.

He frowned, glancing around. He didn’t want to say he was lost, but...

There was someone sitting in a chair outside of a room and he walked over with the intent of asking directions. But as he got closer, he realized that it was a young child. Who was...crying.

Blaine paused, suddenly feeling anxious. He wasn’t very good around children, especially crying ones. He shuffled from foot to foot awkwardly as the little boy kept crying. He couldn’t have been more than six and his arm was in a cast and he was trying to wipe away all of his tears with one tiny little chubby hand.

Blaine felt an odd pounding in his head and suddenly he was bent at the waist in front of the boy, holding out his black silk handkerchief for him.

The little boy looked up in surprise, his big wet blue eyes widening.

“Are you okay?” Blaine asked gently.

The boy’s mouth turned down in a frown and his lips quivered as he shook his head.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” And the odd thing was...he wasn’t lying. “My name’s Blaine. What’s yours?”

The little boy licked his lips before answering. “Kurt.”

“Kurt,” Blaine smiled. “That’s a nice name. What’s wrong, Kurt?”

Kurt’s little face crinkled up. “The doctors said that...that mommy was gone and that daddy might never wake up!”

“That’s awful,” Blaine said, kneeling down next to his chair. He put the handkerchief in Kurt’s hand and Kurt wiped his eyes with it, huffing quietly as he looked over at the small aquarium. 

“And...” he sniffed. “And they said that if Daddy didn’t wake up, I’d have to find a new home. And I don’t want a new home, I want to go to my home!”

Blaine made a snap decision. He slid into the seat next to Kurt. “Have you ever seen The Wizard of Oz?”

Kurt looked up at him and nodded slowly. “It’s my favorite movie.”

“Mine too,” Blaine agreed with a grin. “And I’ll tell you what. I have a magic box here.”

Kurt’s eyes widened. “Really?” 

“Really,” Blaine nodded. “Listen.” He opened the small box and Somewhere Over The Rainbow tinkled out sweetly. 

Kurt sat, staring at the box with wide eyes as the song played. His fingers reached out and started tracing the designs back and forth, back and forth...

“See?” Blaine said, closing the box as the song ended. “Magical. Remember the ruby slippers?” A faithful nod. Blaine pointed to the ruby on top of the box amidst the black and white beads. “This is a real ruby right here. If you tap it three times with your finger and whisper ‘There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home’, then you’ll eventually find home one day.”

“You will?” Kurt asked quietly.

“You will,” Blaine reassured with a smile. “Which is why I want you to keep it.”

Kurt’s mouth fell open as Blaine slid the ornate box into his lap. “Thank you,” he whispered, awestruck.

“Sure thing,” Blaine smiled and he felt oddly...happy. He didn’t know why but his chest felt all warm and light.

Suddenly, Kurt’s face was very near his and he was pecked gently on the cheek before Kurt sat back down in his chair, criss cross applesauce.

Kurt blushed and leaned forward, cupping his hand over his mouth as he whispered to Blaine, “That was my first kiss.”

Blaine smiled, charmed, as he cupped his hand over his mouth and whispered, “Mine too.” And he wasn’t lying. It was the first one he cared about. 

So it was the one that counted.

He tried not to groan in annoyance when his phone buzzed and he knew it was Cooper calling, meaning that visiting time was over, so he stood up and bowed low to Kurt. “Farewell, Mr. Kurt. I have to go back to my family.”

Kurt giggled at his extravagant bow and offered a hand instead, looking determined. “Goodbye, Blaine.”

Blaine smiled as he shook his hand. He turned and walked back down the hall.

“Blaine!”

Blaine turned around to see a nervous Kurt gnawing on his lip. “Will I ever see you again?”

Blaine grinned. “I don’t doubt it.”

***

Kurt stared at him, frozen on the ledge. “That was you.”

“Yes,” Blaine said desperately. 

“You were the boy who gave me the music box all those years ago.”

“Yes.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since you wrote the note the night you went to Sebastian’s house,” Blaine said. “You put your hair beads and piercing all in a pile next to the letter, and seeing all of them together...it just clicked into place.”

“Fuck!” Kurt yelled into his hands. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck why the fuck did everything become so complicated?”

“As touching as this has been,” Sebastian cut through, nudging his gun into Blaine’s ribs. “Oh wait. It hasn’t. Get on with it Kurt, unless you want to see Blainey boy’s blood all over the roof.”

Kurt blinked, not even trying to stop the tears anymore as he turned around on the ledge.

“Kurt, don’t you dare! Get down from that ledge now!”

“Some...where...over the rainbow...”

“Kurt, stop!”

There was a scream from below and the sound of a megaphone. The police must have noticed someone on the roof. Shouts mounted from the ground, someone screamed something that sounded like “East three and four!” and another voice yelling at Kurt to get down from the roof.

“Black...birds...fly...” 

“Kurt I swear to god--”

“Birds...fly...over the rainbow...”

Kurt spread his arms. His torn Dalton shirt split at his back and ruffled in the breeze. For a second, Blaine thought that he saw wings.

“Kurt, please, please!”

“Why then...oh why can’t I?”

“Please, I love you, don’t do this!”

“If happy little blackbirds fly beyond the rainbow...”

“I’m begging you, Kurt!” Blaine sobbed. “Please, please don’t do this! Just come down, please come down I’ll do anything you want, just please come down, please!”

“Why oh why can’t I?”

“Kurt!”

Kurt turned back to look at Blaine, his eyes full of tears.

"Goodbye Mr. Earl Grey." 

He stepped off the roof.

"KURT!"

***

Kurt Hummel stood on a wall.

Kurt Hummel had a great fall.

All the king's horses and all the king's men

Could not put Kurt back together again.

***

Blaine had screamed for a minute straight.

“Seriously,” Sebastian rolled his eyes after Blaine had finally stopped. “So dramatic.”

And in that moment, there was nothing that Blaine wanted more than for Sebastian Smythe to die.

He grabbed the gun from him and pointed it at his head. 

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t. You don’t have the guts.”

“Wanna bet?” Blaine said, voice free of emotion or inflection. He was done, just completely done with everything. 

He pulled the trigger.

Click.

He stared at the gun, cocking it again and pulling the trigger.

Click.

Sebastian smiled. “Oops.”

“You...” Blaine stared at him. “You..”

“It’s your gun,” Sebastian shrugged. “It only holds six rounds. Not my fault that you two can’t count.”

“You--you---”

Blaine snapped. 

He grabbed the end of the gun and started hitting Sebastian in the face as hard as he could. “You psychotic fucked-up son of a bitch!” 

Sebastian managed to grab his arm and pull, bringing his knee up sharply. 

A loud crack filled the air as Blaine’s arm broke.

“Fuck!”

“Also...it’s not my fault that now both of our prints are on that gun.”

***

The police managed to extract them an hour later. Blaine had run to the edge of the roof, but the cement below was already being hosed down, leaving no trace behind.

***

Blaine blinked, and realized that Sebastian was still talking.

“He’s completely delusional and highly dangerous! And the worst part is that he feeds off of the ideas of others. Being in such close proximity with Mr. St. James when we were younger was terrible for him because he was always so dramatic and showing him musicals which just added to his paranoia. And then being in such close quarters with Mr. Anderson...” Sebastian shook his head. “Not to mention the allegations of the nature of their relationship...I fear it made him take a turn for the worse. Yes, I think he killed those people in Seattle. And in New York. And Dave Karofsky in Westerville. Just like he killed the Karofsky’s in Lima the Christmas before last.”

“And what of the allegations that you killed Mr. Hummel?” Hunter asked. “That you threatened him with this gun here?” He pointed to the bagged weapon on the evidence table.

“Untrue!” Sebastian protested. “Blaine had the gun and I grappled with him for it. Though...I do admit that my intent was to shoot Kurt.”

“Really?” Hunter raised his eyebrows, looking unsurprised.

Sebastian nodded. “But not to kill him! He was walking towards the ledge and I just wanted to take out a kneecap so we could wait for the police to make it up to the roof. But I couldn’t before...” He broke off, a grief-stricken look on his face. "Look, there's simply no motive for this crime," Sebastian sighed dramatically, making Blaine want to punch him. "Kurt was a friend of mine. He was my brother. I loved him even though he was delusional. Why on earth would I voluntarily hurt him?"

Hunter smiled. "The defense rests."

Blaine felt dead inside.

"Okay then," Judy breathed out quietly. "Let's bury this horse in the ground."

"What?" Blaine frowned.

David stood in front of the court, causing a momentary stir to ripply through everyone. Hunter looked at him, politely incredulous. 

David cleared his throat. "Your honor, with your permission, I'd like to call just one more witness to the stand."

Judge Sylvester turned a peering eye over to Hunter. He shrugged. "Go ahead."

Sylvester nodded. "Proceed."

Santana gave David a nod and he took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and looked levelly out over the court. "The prosecution would like to call Kurt Hummel to the stand."

"Objection!" Hunter interjected, rising. "You can't call a deceased witness to the stand. Kurt Hummel is dead."

Judy snorted next to Blaine. "Like hell I am."

Blaine's head snapped to the left as Judy stood and ripped off her wig, raking her fingers through choppy chestnut hair. 

Kurt smoothly exited the prosecutor's box, ignoring the commotion of the courtroom, and walked over to the stand, swearing himself in. 

***

“I do,” Kurt said confidently, trying to ignore his heart pounding in his throat as he settled into his seat. David approached him calmly, an easy smile on his face. 

“Please state your name for the court.”

“Kurt Elizabeth Hummel,” Kurt replied clearly. “Also sometimes referred to as Katherine Alice Karofsky.”

“Mr. Hummel. Would you please explain in detail for the court your relationships with both the accused Sebastian Smythe and the recently deceased Dave Karofsky?”

Kurt took a deep breath. “When I was five years old, I got into a car crash with my parents. My mother died instantly and my father slipped into a coma. The doctors told me that it was extremely unlikely that he would make it, so I was placed in the foster care system. I ended up with the Smythe family... 

“It wasn’t ideal. They were very strict but I was a generally well-mannered child. It wasn’t until I broke a glass on accident that everything changed.”

***

Kurt reached up to push his dirty plate up on the counter above the dishwasher, his hand accidentally nudging the wineglass next to it. It fell off the counter and smashed on the ground, causing Kurt to jump.

He pushed his plate up onto the counter all the way before bending over, picking up a large shard of glass gingerly with his fingers.

“What is going on?” a voice snapped.

He looked up at his mother who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, her hands on her hips and looking vivid.

“I dropped the glass,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, I was trying to put my plate up on the counter--”

She walked briskly over to him and struck him across the face, causing him to overbalance and fall into the glass shards.

***

“I was beaten on a fairly regular occasion. It wasn’t until about a year later and my...sexual preference became obvious that they took it to new levels. Mr. Smythe, my foster father, thought that whipping me would absolve me of the wrong things I was doing against God, and Mrs. Smythe, my foster mother, was of the firm opinion that children were meant to be seen and not heard. 

“My foster brother Sebastian on the other hand mainly left me alone, other than the average sibling teasing...”

***

“Baa baa black sheep, have you any wool?” Kurt sang as he sat in the corner of his room, playing with the little wooden lamb figurine that he’d found in a cupboard. “Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full. One for the master, one for the dame, one for...” His brows furrowed. He could never remember the last line. “The...boy...who’s...name was Blaine.” He smiled and shrugged. Close enough. “Baa baa black sheep--”

“What’s that?”

Kurt looked up to see Sebastian staring into his room from out in the hall.

Kurt smiled toothily, holding up the lamb in both hands. “Look ‘Bastian! It’s a sheep!”

“That’s a lamb, dummy,” Sebastian rolled his eyes as he walked in.

 Kurt just went back to moving it across the floor and making it graze on the occasional splinter. 

Suddenly it was gone. Kurt looked up, wide-eyed to see Sebastian holding it above his head.

“‘Bastian!” Kurt scrambled to his feet. “Give it back!”

“No.”

“It’s mine!”

“It’s from my house so that means it’s mine.”

“No!” Kurt chased Sebastian down the hall, wiping the tears from his eyes. “‘Bastian, it’s mine!”

Sebastian slammed his door shut and Kurt started pounding on it.

“Kurt!”

Uh oh. His father was home.

***

“But when I was about seven and he was thirteen, his parents went away for the weekend and he told me that we could run away together. Instead, he strapped me to the table down in the basement and whipped my back for hours. I was always scared of my foster parents, but Sebastian made me trust him before he broke that trust along with most of the skin on my back.

“He didn’t do it very often because he didn’t want his parents finding out. But whenever they were out of town, he’d drag me down to the basement for his own fun, I guess. Jesse stopped coming around because he’d seen what had happened the first time and it freaked him out. But the next year, when I was nine and Sebastian was about to head off to Dalton Academy for the first time...”

***

Kurt crept slowly down the stairs, doing his best not to make them creak. He had a bag of clothes over his shoulder and a couple of beads from his broken music box as well as the pretty red stone on top in his pocket. 

He didn’t really know where he’d go, but he knew that Jesse lived a couple of blocks away so maybe he’d try to find his house.

He reached up and turned the deadbolt slowly, wincing when it made a loud snick noise. Then came the handle lock which was much quieter, to his relief. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

A hand slammed it shut.

He looked up in horror to see Sebastian standing over him, an unpleasant grin on his face. “Where are you going, Kurt?”

“I...” Kurt whispered, voice horse. “I...”

Sebastian grabbed his arm and dragged him through the living room and dining room and kitchen down to the basement, Kurt kicking and screaming the whole way.

Kurt saw the table and dragged his feet, before panicking and sinking his teeth into Sebastian’s wrist.

“Fuck!”

Kurt yanked his hand away and raced back up the stairs, shoving the door open.

There was a loud sharp noise and Kurt looked back to see Sebastian pulling an axe blade out of the door, where his head had been only moments before.

Sebastian grinned at him. “Come here, Kurtie. ‘Bastian wants to play.”

Kurt ran.

Dining room, living room, tried again for the front door but the axe almost took off his hand that time. He looked under Sebastian’s arm and ran back to the den. Sebastian hit him on the side of the head with the flat of the blade and Kurt fell to the ground, disoriented. 

“Come on, Kurtie,” Sebastian grinned, kneeling on top of his chest and making him feel like he had to cough. “You’re going to run away?”

“Stop, please!” Kurt whimpered, shoving at Sebastian’s knees as tears welled in his eyes.

Sebastian laughed. “God, you’re such a girl. Always singing in your dumb voice and sitting quietly and crying. You’re basically a girl already.”

“‘Bastian please!” he cried, pushing at his knees. “Please, you’re hurting me!”

“Might as well make you a girl.”

Sebastian reached back and started pulling at Kurt’s corduroys. 

“Stop!”

Sebastian laughed as he pushed Kurt’s pants and boxers down, taking him in hand and stroking him.

“Stop!” Kurt kicked his legs. “Stop! I don’t like it! Please stop!”

“Okay,” Sebastian grinned. He slid down Kurt’s body and raised the axe.

“NO!”

***

Screaming.

Blood.

So much blood.

Laughter.

Screaming.

Pain.

Black.

Jesse...?

***

Kurt went in and out of consciousness. 

A white hospital room.

Jesse’s worried face.

Some talk about his nerve endings...?

Dr. ...Kar...of...?

Darkness.

***

“My hormones went all over the place after that. Part of my growth was regressed. I had a bunch of damaged nerve endings around my pelvis. My foster parents came home early and it was the first time I ever remembered them yelling at Sebastian. Then there was talk about him leaving and me as well. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me back then because I was on painkillers, but I later learned their meaning.

“Mr. and Mrs. Smythe were upset that they had a gay son--Sebastian. They figured that, since I was very feminine as well as masculine as a child--and obviously towards a similar inclination as their son--that he might cotton on to me and I could be a close enough substitute to a real girl.

“Sebastian had no such intention. He made his dislike and disdain towards me perfectly clear, but he seized the opportunity after my surgery to convince his parents that maybe if he were allowed to spend more time with me, then maybe he might start to like me. 

“The two of us knew that there was no chance of that happening, but his parents latched on to the idea and sent me off to Dalton with him. I’m not entirely sure how that was allowed, but I guess that money will pave the way with anything at that school.

“I lived with Sebastian during his duration at Dalton and it was...hell.”

***

“Wakey wakey...”

Kurt gasped as the ice cold water hit his face at full blast, shooting up his nostrils and down his throat. He sat up coughing and blowing his nose out, choking on the water.

Sebastian made him sleep in the bathtub, which had faucets at both ends, so no matter which way Kurt tried to sleep, he was always woken up with a face-full of water, either freezing cold or scalding hot. 

“Come on, Kurtie. Let’s have fun...”

***

Kurt coughed around the gag, saliva dripping down his chin as he was jolted up the bed by the force of Sebastian’s strike. He winced as his head cracked on the headboard and he started crying quietly.

“There there, Kurt,” Sebastian soothed. “It’s alright. You chose this, remember? It’s what you wanted.”

He’d been given the choice of Sebastian using the whip or the axe, and he’d chosen the whip. He always chose the whip.

Never the axe again.

CRACK.

***

“Kurt Kurt Kurt Kurt Kurt,” Sebastian slurred, giggling when he sat down next to the bed. 

Kurt hated when he was like this the worst. Drunk Sebastian was unpredictable and that usually led to nasty surprises.

Kurt turned his head the other way to look at the poppy wallpaper by the door. The flowers always reminded him of blood.

“Look at me!” Sebastian hissed, wrenching his face back the other way. With a gulp, Kurt slide his eyes back to Sebastian’s slightly out of focus ones. 

Rancid breath that smelled like rubbing alcohol washed over as Sebastian leaned in with a lazy grin. “Have you ever done body shots, Kurt?” 

Kurt froze against the pillow before slowly shaking his head.

Sebastian frowned. “Why not?”

Silence.

Sebastian slapped him. “Hey, I asked you a question. Why not?”

Kurt shook before mumbling something around the gag in his mouth.

Sebastian rolled his eyes before unstrapping it from the back of his head and pulling it out. “What?”

“I...” Kurt rasped, trying to get used to talking again. “Because I’m...only eleven?”

A blink. Then Sebastian burst out laughing. “That’s right!” he wheezed. “I always forget how old you really are. But that’s no excuse, Kurtie. I had my first vodka when I was nine. It was at the Anderson house. Good party. Our parents were all passed out and we took over the pool house. Talk about old times,” he sighed. “But anyways. Body shots. They’re literally my favorite. Here, I’ll teach you...”

He took out a big container of salt, one of the ones with the little metal spiel to pour it out of, and he poured a thick line of Kurt’s back.

Kurt wondered why he’d use his back as it had blood all over it and he was pretty sure that Sebastian wouldn’t want to make a drink with his blood, but then he leaned over and his intent was perfectly clear.

Kurt screamed, his sound echoing around the room as Sebastian licked the salt deep into the bloody ridges of his back.

“Hush,” Sebastian slurred petulantly, patting Kurt’s back and driving the salt in deeper. “That’s just the first part. Then there’s the limes...”

He took out several lime wedges and started squeezing them all over Kurt’s back as well, taking a finger and swirling the juice around with the gritty salt and dragging it deep into the bloody ridges. He popped the last wedge into his mouth and bit on it sharply, wincing around the sour flavor as Kurt screamed himself hoarse. 

“Then,” Sebastian coughed. “Then the tequila. This is my favorite part.” He brought up a bottle and swallowed a swig, making a face before smiling lazily, and tipping the bottle over on Kurt’s back.

Kurt thrashed against his hand and feet cuffs violently, back arching off the bed trying to find some, any form of respite from the searing burn.

“And that’s a body shot,” Sebastian giggled. “Fun, right?” 

***

Kurt was warm. Very warm. It felt pleasant. And there was someone smiling down at him with slicked back hair and...why couldn’t he make out his face? What was his name again? Cain...?

And what was that rushing--

Kurt’s eyes opened as he realized that the bathtub was slowly being filled up and he was floating in it.

Sebastian leaned over him with a smile. “Nighty night, Kurtie.”

Kurt frowned. Wasn’t it morning--?

Sebastian grabbed him by the hair and pushed him under the water.

Kurt clawed at his hand, trying to simultaneously breathe and hold his breath as the water washed over him. He fought his way up to the surface for a quick splutter before Sebastian pushed his chest down again and he was submerged. 

He fought and struggled and splashed, but the more he moved, the more out of breath he became and his mouth opened, letting the last vestiges of air leave his lungs as he sank to the bottom of the tub and darkness spotted his vision.

‘Kurt,’ a voice whispered in his ear. There was a figure in all black who smelled like coffee and raspberries and cinnamon and who had a heavy hand on his shoulder. ‘There’s no place like home,’ he whispered. ‘There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.’

Then the heavy hand on his shoulder was gripping him tight and he found himself over the edge of the tub, coughing water violently out of his lungs, throwing it up and sobbing as he tried to choke down a breath.

***

“When I was twelve, Sebastian graduated from Dalton Academy and told his parents a very definite ‘no’ that he didn’t want me in any way shape or form except as a...stress reliever. He went off to college and I moved back in with the Smythes. It wasn’t...as bad comparatively as living with Sebastian, mainly because I was left alone until they could find something that I’d done wrong. 

“The next summer, I met Santana Lopez for the first time. She was the first woman that I’d met other than Mrs. Smythe since living with them and we became...friends. She promised that she would get me out, but she never got the chance.

“I was useless to Mr. and Mrs. Smythe because I’d been primarily taken in for their son. So instead, they offered--”

Kurt broke off, feeling temporary fear fill his body before he closed his eyes and wrung his fingers. ‘He’s dead, Kurt,’ he told himself mentally. ‘He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead--’

“Mr. Hummel?”

Kurt looked back up at the court, eyes bright. “Sorry. They...there was another family in a similar predicament to theirs. A friend of Mr. Smythe’s--Paul Karofsky, the doctor who had treated me after my accident with Sebastian--had a son. Dave. Who he and his wife were...worried because he’d just graduated from OSU and they didn’t want him running off to the big city to a place where he could be more...liberal with his sexuality, so the Smythes proposed that they try with Dave what had failed with Sebastian and they...offered me.

“Dave...Dave agreed and I went through a transformation. My hair grew out and it curled. Ever since the...incident, I never really grew body hair, so I never had to worry about shaving my face. They had my gender and name legally changed so I became Katherine--or Katy--Alice Smythe. Then, the Smythes, my legal guardians, gave their consent for me to marry Dave Karofsky when I was only fourteen. He was twenty-two.” 

***

“There there, dearie,” Chelsea smiled as she untied the back of Kurt’s fluffy white dress. “Everyone has jitters on their wedding night.”

Kurt was pretty sure that this was the opposite of what she was talking about.

She nudged him so that he stepped out of the dress and stood there in his sheer white slip, shivering. It had nothing to do with the cold. 

Chelsea smiled brightly at him. “I’ll see you in the morning, dearie.”

The door closed with a click.

Kurt glanced around, looking anywhere except for the large bed in the middle of the room.

He had no idea what he was supposed to do or who he was supposed to do or what was expected of him. Chelsea had just told him that he was going to live with them now--which was a step up from the Smythes, he supposed--but now he was...Katy? And married to their son Dave? And...he was expected to obey him.

Kurt wrapped his arms around himself as the door creaked open again and Dave walked in. He closed the door firmly shut behind him.

Averting his eyes, Kurt glanced down and stared at his bare toes against the carpet. Soon, a pair of black dress shoes stood at the end of his toes. A warm and slightly clammy hand gripped his chin and forced him to look up and he shuddered slightly, staring at Dave’s face.

Dave leaned in for a kiss and Kurt closed his eyes, keeping his mouth firmly shut as he started shaking. It was kind of hot and uncomfortable and Dave’s breath smelled like steak and all of the sudden his hands were moving to Kurt’s shoulders and Kurt just kept gripping the sides of his slip because he just wanted it all to stop.

Kurt opened his eyes, feeling the tears stinging in them as Dave started to kiss down his neck and he shivered. 

Dave must have taken his shiver as a green light because he tried to kiss him on the mouth again but Kurt leaned back. 

A hand gripped the back of his hair tightly and forced his head forward and he hissed in  pain as fingers caught in his curls and suddenly there was a thick tongue in his mouth. Kurt tried to pull away but the heavy hand just pressed him forward more until he was molded against Dave’s body and something was poking into his hip. He started to cry.

“Lay down on the bed,” came a raspy whisper.

“No,” Kurt whimpered. “No, please, just...just not tonight, please, no--” 

He found himself pushed facedown onto the bed, the back end of his slip pushed up against his back. He tried to get up but a hand shoved him back down into the mattress. The sound of a zipper filled the quiet room and he cried quietly into the pillow as something cold spread around his hole and then a gross smacking sound before a blunt pressure.

And then there was just pain.

Kurt bit into the pillow, screaming as he thrashed on the bed, trying to get away but Dave pinned both of his arms and legs down with his own, leaning heavily on Kurt’s back so it pressed firmly into the mattress. Kurt panicked, being completely immobilized as their hips started moving and the pain intensified, everything feeling raw and dragged and aching.

“Stop...” he begged weakly, sobbing. “Stop, please, it hurts!”

His cries went unanswered as hot breath huffed over his ear in heavy pants and he felt like he couldn’t breathe because of the pressure enclosing him from all angles.

“That’s...it...” Dave panted in his ear, reaching his hand down to grab one of the cheeks of Kurt’s ass to spread him wider. “That’s...a...good...girl...”

Kurt didn’t know how much time had passed. It felt like days. But finally Dave’s hips stuttered and there was a hot feeling that burned inside of him and he gave a weak cry as Dave collapsed on top of him.

Kurt stared at the pillow that was only a centimeter away from his eyes as he waited. 

Dave finally got off of him and went to the bathroom, the sound of running water splitting the dead silence. 

Kurt pulled his slip back down around himself and curled up in a ball, crying himself to sleep.

***

“I don’t know how I got it into my head that living with the Karofskys would be any better than living with the Smythes, but I was in for a very rude awakening. Every hour of the day I was with Chelsea. She wanted to mold me into the perfect housewife, I guess, while Dave was away being the assistant coach at the local high school. But I kept trying to run away. There were locks on every door and I didn’t have a key so...one night I tried to kill myself.

“Paul was a doctor and had a giant medicine cabinet that was in the bathroom. One night I swallowed everything I could find, but my body ended up throwing it all back up and that’s when Paul started...experimenting... 

“He’d put me on certain prescriptions, trying to make me more docile. After some trial and error, he found an opiate that did the trick, but it had to be injected into my neck...” Kurt ran his fingers delicately against the right side of his neck where the little well-used hole was.

“I became...sluggish. Everything felt like I was moving through molasses which made it scarier when others would move around me because it was like they were moving at superhuman speed. It didn’t make me docile but it at least slowed me down enough...”

***

“We’re going to make chocolate butterscotch bars tonight,” Chelsea smiled, stirring the melted chocolate in the double broiler. “Davey’s favorite. Now we just need to chop up the butterscotch...” 

Kurt nodded sluggishly as he picked up the knife, smiling at it lightly before turning it and pressing the tip against his neck.

“Oh! No no, dearie,” Chelsea admonished, taking the knife from his grasp as he leaned heavily against the counter. “Now now, Katy. What have we said about all this?”

Kurt giggled, loud and uncontrollably. “Gay go up and gay go down to ring the bells of London town!”

“Katy!” Chelsea snapped, but Kurt was already running his hands over everything on the counter.

“Oranges and lemons say the bells of St. Clements! Pancakes and fritters say the bells of St. Peter’s! Kettle and pans say the bells of St. Ann’s!” 

“Katy, stop this!” Chelsea grabbed Kurt sharply down the hall to his and Dave’s bedroom.

“Here comes the candle to light you to bed! Here comes the chopper to chop off your head!”

Kurt collapsed on his bed giggling. “Chop chop chop chop, the last man’s dead!”

***

Kurt slowly prepared a chip plate with Chelsea in the kitchen. One of Dave’s OSU friends was over and they were watching the big game.

Chelsea patted his back and Kurt picked up the plate, blinking slowly as he walked to the living room, feeling like he was in a pleasant haze. He set the chip plate down in front of the two men, smiling politely. He especially liked the friend. He was cute and tall.

“Thanks!” the friend grinned. “Dude, you didn’t tell me you had a sister!”

“I--she’s adopted,” Dave said hurriedly. 

“I’m Finn,” Finn grinned, offering his hand.

Kurt blinked in surprise before shaking it gingerly, trying to hide his blush. “I’m Katy.”

Finn’s smile widened. “Nice to meet you, Katy.”

Kurt just nodded and turned around, heading back to the kitchen, his cheeks inflamed.

“So I hear you’re headed to the big apple?”

“Yeah, got a management job out there.”

“You mean you’re chasing Rachel.”

“Whatever...”

***

“Dave himself was a different type of evil than Sebastian, but he terrified me probably even more.”

***

“Ah--that’s it...such a...good girl...”

Kurt stared at his pillow. The drug always wore off by nighttime because it was just to “help Chelsea out while none of the men were home”. Because the men could handle a little fifteen year old girl without the use of drugs.

“Say it.”

Kurt bit his tongue as his body jolted violently up and down the bed.

Nails dug into his hips and suddenly the thrust became sharper and a hand gripped the back of his neck tightly.

“Say it!”

Tears filled Kurt’s eyes as he opened his mouth. “I...I love you, Dave.”

“Uh...yeah...go on...”

“I’m...so glad that you’re my husband.”

“Mmhmm.”

“And...I...I love it when you use me like this.”

“God,” Dave groaned into his ear. “I love it too, sweet girl.” He dragged his fingers through Kurt’s curls, which were past his shoulders now.

Kurt just laid motionless.

“Say the rest.”

He pushed his head into the pillow, willing himself not to.

Dave’s fingers yanked on his hair, forcing his head up. “Say. The. Rest.”

Kurt clenched his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. “F-f-fuck me harder.”

“Good girl.”

Dave shoved him up and pushed his face into the headboard as he started thrusting in roughly, like a wild animal. 

***

“And, of course, everything sort of...collapsed on Christmas, just after I turned sixteen. It’d been a usual and slightly boring affair. I was kind of out of it so I don’t entirely remember all the nit-picky details. But I remember that Dave got me a collar for Christmas. And I remember him putting it on me in private and not being able to make a sound because it was too tight. And he...he tied a chain from it to the bedpost.

“Later that night, I woke up and there was smoke everywhere. I grabbed my things and tried to run but the collar...”

Kurt broke out of his reverie, telling his heart to calm down, that he wasn’t choking. Unbidden, his eyes slid over to Blaine who was staring up at him in disbelief. He quickly looked away.

“The collar wouldn’t come off and I couldn’t get away from the bed. The flames moved up the house and I couldn’t scream to anybody for help because I couldn’t talk and it was getting harder and harder to breathe...

“The latch finally broke as the flames reached the door and I had to jump out of the window. I landed in a hydrangea bush and ran in my nightgown, ignoring all the neighbors. The only place I knew definitively in Lima was the Smythe’s old house, but I knew that Jesse’s family lived nearby and he should be home for Christmas so I headed that way for help. 

“I stopped by the old Smythe house first because they still owned it even though they’d moved to Westerville so I knew it’d be a safe place to stop to see if I could find an address book or something.”

***

Kurt grabbed the spare key from under the back doormat and unlocked the door. He’d already walked around the house to make sure that no one was home before he slid inside. He studiously ignored the stairs down to the basement and the back den area as well, instead heading straight for the kitchen. 

He pulled open the pantry by the phone and searched around, dismayed to find a lack of address books, but pulling out the phonebook instead, looking under “S”. He smiled as he found the telephone number and wrote it down.

“I knew you’d be here.”

Kurt jumped, wheeling around to find a very sooty Dave staring at him from the kitchen doorway.

“It’s the only place you know.”

Kurt backed against the counter, clutching the note in his hand.

“Mom and dad are dead,” Dave said conversationally. “Which makes me your legal guardian.” 

Kurt’s heart pounded as he scoped out the exits. Dave was standing in the main one.

Dave walked towards him. “Come on, Katy.”

Kurt stumbled back and Dave lunged, grabbing his arm and wrapping his arms firmly around him so that he couldn’t move.

Kurt struggled, trying to stomp Dave’s feet. He managed to get his head under Dave’s chin and thrust it upwards, causing his head to snap back and his grip to loosen.

Kurt wriggled out of Dave’s arms and tore towards the doorway. Dave raced around the island and managed to get his back against the door, slamming it shut. Kurt backed away before scrambling onto the counter and pushing the window open. Dave grabbed his foot with one and, dragging him back as his other hand scrambled at Kurt’s nightgown, his nails dragging down the length of Kurt’s back.

Kurt went rigid, halfway off the sink as Dave reached over him to snap the window shut, breathing heavily. Kurt’s hand shot across the counter, grabbing a knife, before he turned around, eyes wide, pushing against Dave.

“What happened to my sweet girl?” Dave snarled, crushing Kurt’s shoulders. 

Kurt plunged the knife into Dave's stomach.

"SHE'S GONE!"

He ripped the knife back out, staring at the blood before everything he’d just done caught up with him and he dropped the knife in shock, staring back at Dave.

Dave had his hands over his stomach where crimson blood was spilling over and he stumbled back against the counter.

Kurt looked down at his hands and nightgown that were covered in blood and then back at the body that was slowly dying in front of him.

“Go ahead,” Dave rasped. “Leave me here to die, then.”

Kurt stared back and forth between his hands and Dave before running over to the phone and dialing 911.

“I knew it,” Dave laughed, pawing at his belly. “You can’t kill me. You don’t have the nerve.”

Kurt looked back at him worriedly as he frantically told the woman over the phone that someone had been stabbed and he told the address. Then he hung up and tore the sheet of paper out of the phonebook, determined to just go straight to Jesse’s house rather than attempting a call now with the police on their way.

Kurt looked back at Dave lying on the kitchen floor, watching him with an eerie smile. “Goodbye, Katy. Don’t worry. I’ll find you.”

***

Kurt sighed. “I got some money from Jesse and made my way west. It was the only thing I could think to do.”

The courtroom was dead silent.

“The prosecution rests,” David said quietly, returning to his seat.

Kurt sighed and straightened his shoulders. This was his last part that he had to do. The defense. Then it would all be over. So he steeled his eyes and waited for Hunter Clarington to approach him.

“Mrs. Karofsky,” Hunter started out, staring at him hard.

Kurt stared him down. “I prefer Mr. Hummel, if you don’t mind.”

“I was just merely using your legal name.”

“Well considering that you’ve called me Mr. Hummel during the rest of this trial when you thought I was dead, I’d prefer Mr. Hummel.”

Hunter gave him a twitching smile. “Speaking of which, would you care to tell the court how you survived that fall off the top of the Dalton Academy roof?”

Kurt nodded. “Quite simple, really. While Sebastian was threatening Blaine with a gun in case I didn’t jump, I looked down and noticed that the police force had opened the windows the two stories below on the third and fourth floors and there were two men in each to catch me on my way down. It was hastily made, but effective. I jumped and the first pair slowed me down and the second pair caught me entirely, dragging me back into the window. I was met with Santana, who I hadn’t seen since I was thirteen and she told me that this provided a rare window of opportunity--if my death was faked so that I could testify in this very trial without having to worry about being found out or sabotaged. I assented and they waited a good half hour to make it looked like a body had been rolled away, i.e. washing down the pavement, filling out reports, etc, before getting Blaine and Sebastian off the roof, both of whom had been handcuffed to a pipe so neither saw what had happened.”

Hunter nodded. “Very succinct. And what have you to say about the allegations that you’re schizophrenic?”

Kurt shrugged. “Well, they’re true. I could have told you that when I was five. My parents had me tested when I was little and it became part of my everyday life.”

***

“Kurt?”

Kurt licked the strawberry batter off the beater, blinking up at his mother. “Yes mama?”

She smiled, leaning over him as she ran a loving hand through his hair. “Do you remember the word?”

“Skits-Oh-Friend-Ick?”

“Close enough,” she laughed, kissing his forehead. “It just means that your brain works a little differently, darling. But you’re no less important and no less special. You’re still my darling boy.”

“Okay,” Kurt nodded. “Can we make frosting now?”

***

“It was such a rare form and it didn’t impact my life that the doctors said it could remain untreated. There was no harm. I just sometimes saw people a little differently than normal, which is why I’d sometimes assign characters from books that I’d read to people that I knew. It wasn’t until I was re-diagnosed by Paul Karofsky that everything changed. It was the same diagnosis from before, but he said that I should be treated otherwise I could become dangerous. It was really an excuse to use his hospital’s resources to create a concoction to make me docile. My disorder had nothing to do with it. In fact, I grew worse.

“The opiate that I was forced to take on a daily basis triggered some part of my schizophrenia and caused hallucinations. It grew far worse after I got away from the Karofskys and went to Seattle. My body went through withdrawal and I had a complete mental break from reality and thought I was a girl, giving myself the persona of Dorothy Porcelain.

“I don’t remember a great deal of what happened those first four to six months in Seattle and most of it came through the mouths of others. It was at that time that I first met William Schuester, later to be known as the Scarecrow killer. I also met Emma Pillsbury, who took me in after I’d been living on the streets and helped me work through my issues. Last fall I was able to become...me. Something I hadn’t been in a very long time.”

“And that’s when you met Mr. Anderson?”

“Yes. We met at a tea shop that one of the other youths from McKinley Home worked at and we started a friendship over talking about stories.”

“But you didn’t tell Mr. Anderson about your past?” Hunter raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not really the sort of thing that you just dump on a person all at once,” Kurt said defensively. “He learned more as we knew each other longer.”

“And you started to live with him.”

“Yes,” Kurt said in a clipped tone. “I was kicked out of McKinley Home by Will Schuester because he’d taken over for Emma and I couldn’t produce proper identification, so Blaine was gracious enough to take me in. We started collaborating together on his new novel.”

“And how did your relationship progress from there?”

Kurt shrugged. “Easily? We worked on the novel. The events with the Scarecrow killings happened, just as Mr. Anderson said. I went to New York because Jesse paid my way. The Tinman killings happened out there. Sebastian revealed himself to me and then made me the deal of either going to his apartment or he could skin Blaine alive, so I went to his apartment where a repeat of our time at Dalton happened. Blaine showed up with a gun and sent me to his car. In actuality, the entire thing had been a diversion and it was Karofsky in the car and he knocked me out before taking me to Dalton, where he’d been working as a wrestling coach and he kept me on a high concentration of the opiate that his father created. 

“But it was much more potent which again triggered my schizophrenia. The hallucinations became much more real. He’d gotten another metal collar which he kept on me at all times so that I couldn’t scream--save for the mornings when he’d give me the one bit of food I’d have for the rest of the day: poppyseed muffins that had been drugged with the opiate.”

***

Kurt hungrily devoured the muffin like an animal, his hands handcuffed behind his back as he ate from Dave’s hand. Dave held up a glass of water for him and he gulped it down eagerly before the collar was snapped back into place. A chain was tied to the vanity as Kurt’s vision started to fade...

“Make-up will be here soon, sweet girl. Make sure you’re ready for tonight.”

Kurt’s head was feeling so heavy...

He blinked. He was alone and staring into his mirror.

No, he wasn’t alone. Someone was standing right behind him.

“Kurt...”

“No,” Kurt shook his head. “Stop.”

“Dorothy...”

“Stop,” Kurt slurred. “You’re dead.”

The Scarecrow grinned behind, running a finger along Kurt’s neck. “I can’t die, Kurt. I’m made of straw. And you stabbed me in the head. Why would I die if I haven’t got a brain?” 

“Go away...”

“Come now Kurt,” a different voice laughed over his other shoulder and he slid his eyes to the Tinman who was grinning down at him. “You didn’t even try to kill me. You just left Toto to do the job and I’m still around.”

“Not here,” Kurt mumbled. “Leave...”

“We know, we know,” they chanted. “You have to spend quality time with the Cowardly Lion. But don’t forget us dear!”

***

“Sebastian showed up a few times, mostly to “put me in my place”. Other times to watch while Dave did...”

***

“Get out!” Dave snapped while he continued fucking Kurt, holding his head down against the pillow.

“Oh relax,” Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Trust me, there’s nothing appealing about this picture to me.” He cringed. “Urgh, just look at the two of you. It’s like when you click on a bad porn link but you can’t stop watching for some odd reason.”

Dave’s frustrations were translated into his movements over Kurt’s body and Kurt yanked at his handcuffs, trying to get loose because he couldn’t breathe. Darkness crept up on him and he passed out.

***

“It was half a haze, half a nightmare. Just an endless whirlwind of Dave, Sebastian, and whoever they brought in to do my makeup...”

***

Kurt looked at the card his makeup artist had left him. It was a heart, and on the inside was 

K.H.

+

Eli C.

Kurt slid the card into the bottom drawer of his vanity, along with the dozens of others that were left him after his makeup and hair were finished.

***

“Until the night of the Warbler benefit. Blaine found me and was able to create a diversion and get me up to a different room. He called the police and we were going to wait it out until the morning. We got prepared to leave when Sebastian and Dave ambushed us...”

***

“Stop!” Kurt screamed as Dave dragged him back into the Poppy room, throwing him on the bed. Kurt hissed at his broken fingers, holding them against his chest.

“Listen, Katy,” he breathed heavily, face enraged. “You are going to pack your bag and--”

“No!” Kurt yelled. “I don’t have to listen to you anymore!”

“I’m your legal guardian--”

“You’re a monster!” Kurt screamed. 

He was answered with a heavy punch to the stomach.

His back hit the window as he coughed, hunched over. “You know,” he wheezed. “You’re real brave with your fists, but you’re a coward when it comes to the truth.”

“Is that right?” Dave snapped.

Kurt looked up at him, glaring. “Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie, kissed the girls and made them cry. When the boys came out to play, Georgie Porgie ran away.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re gay, Dave. Get over yourself and stop making my life a fucking misery because of it!”

“I’m not gay!” Dave snapped, slamming him against the window so hard that it cracked. 

“Oh really?” Kurt laughed. “Then why is it that this is the most turned-on I’ve seen you outside of me being unable to speak and handcuffed to the bed? Could it be the schoolboy uniform I’m wearing.”

That earned him a punch to the face.

“You’re sick alright,” Kurt laughed. It seemed like he’d finally cracked and couldn’t stop talking. “But not in the way your mother thought.”

“Shut up!”

“Is that why you killed her?”

Dave froze, his fist inches from Kurt’s face.

Kurt sighed. “It took me a while to figure out. Everyone just assumed that I...well, that Katherine set the fire. But I’d been tied to the bed with my brand new Christmas present. Your parents didn’t do it because there’s no motive and it was too deliberate to be an accident. The house went up way too fast. You lit your father’s den on fire first, didn’t you? All those medical papers, so flammable. But you didn’t realize that the stairs would catch after that so you had to go out the back door, leaving me to burn. And I was the reason you set the house on fire, wasn’t I?”

Dave’s hands shook as he gripped Kurt’s collar.

Kurt smiled coldly. “Mommy and daddy were getting a bit too restrictive, right? Especially mommy. She didn’t like that collar you got me and she was going to tell daddy to make you take it back. And you didn’t like that daddy couldn’t control his wife anymore, right? Especially since she was going to take away your right to control yours? So you set the house on fire.”

Dave tore Kurt’s collar open, clamping his hand over his mouth as he shoved him to the bed. Kurt kicked him as hard as he could in the stomach and scrambled off the bed, making for the door. Dave grabbed the back of his collar and threw him into the vanity. Kurt screamed as the mirror shattered on his back and he fell with the shards to the ground.

Grabbing a handful of hair, Dave pulled him up off of the ground, giving Kurt enough time to ram a large shard of glass into his stomach.

Dave stared at him, wide-eyed as Kurt’s hand shook, fingers screaming as he gripped the shard and it cut into his skin.

“Are you going to call 911 again Kurt?” Dave choked out as hot blood poured over Kurt’s hand. “Get cold feet again and try and save me?”

“No,” Kurt whispered. “I won’t make the same mistake as last time.”

“Yes you will,” Dave laughed weakly. “Because...no matter...how hard you try, you’re still just the goody good brown hair blue eyes girl next door.”

Kurt’s eyes hardened as he shoved the shard in deeper, punctuating each nudge with a word. “I am not. The. Boy. Next. Door.” 

He let go of the shard and Dave fell backwards. Scrambling out of the room, he headed across the hall to go and get Blaine...

***

“Blaine and I ran to the roof with Sebastian shooting after us. Blaine and Sebastian ended up handcuffed to the pipe and Sebastian pulled the gun on Blaine, saying that he wouldn’t shoot him if I jumped off the roof. You all know the rest of the story.”

Hunter nodded, a look of deep contemplation on his face.

“Did you have a sexual relationship with Mr. Anderson?”

“Objection!” David stood. “The nature of Mr. Hummel and Mr. Anderson’s relationship with each other has nothing to do with the situation at hand.”

“I disagree,” Hunter shrugged. “I think a relationship with a minor has everything to do with--”

“Clarington!” Kurt said suddenly, his eyes widening as he stared at Hunter. “Hunter Clarington!”

Hunter looked taken aback. “Yes?”

“That’s how I remember you! You were Sebastian’s floor mate at Dalton. You lived over in the Sycamore Suite. Hey, Sebastian. Wasn’t this the guy you once told me would loan out money to certain poorer students but would only absolve them of debt if he could spend a night with their middle school-aged sisters?” Kurt raised his eyebrows. “Seems like you know all about having relations with minors.” 

Hunter lunged. 

Kurt was used enough to men lunging at him with the intent of murder to be able to drop down and roll out of the way while the security guards grabbed Hunter and forced him out. Kurt was escorted to a side door and he took one last look over at the court, at Blaine, before the door shut firmly behind him.

***

“We find Sebastian Smythe guilty of all charges put against him and sentence him to life imprisonment in a state penitentiary.” 

***

Blaine moved with the prosecution party to the back room where Kurt was being held. There were cheers and hugs and a whole lot of movement that Blaine just generally wasn’t paying attention to whatsoever.

Santana hugged Kurt first and he kissed her cheeks but then he was pulled away by Jesse who enveloped him in a bear hug. The rounds were made and Blaine stood off to the side, waiting.

Santana got the message. “Hey everyone! Party in Blaine’s hotel room! Let’s go!”

Blaine rolled his eyes as everyone cheered and started filing out. 

Mercedes was giving Kurt a long hug before Sam finally pulled her away and they left.

“Kurt?”

Both Kurt and Blaine blinked in surprise as Rachel stood in front of him, her hands on her hips.

“I’m sorry.”

Kurt raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes. For Will Schuester. It was only because he was so obsessed with me that he latched onto your alter ego Dorothy Porcelain in the first place. So...I’m sorry.”

Kurt nodded. “Okay. Well, I’m sorry for sleeping with your husband. Granted, I didn’t know he was married at the time...well, the first time. First few times. First eight...teen.”

She settled him with an impatient stare before rolling her eyes. “Whatever. At least I can know for sure that he is attracted to things--”

“And not some weird lifeless robot?” Kurt nodded. “Yeah.”

Rachel straightened her shoulders and nodded. “Goodbye, Kurt.”

“Goodbye, Rachel.”

She left the room, leaving only Kurt and Blaine behind.

Blaine let his eyes take in Kurt, almost starving to do so. He’d changed his clothes since they’d taken him away a half hour ago. Gone were Judy’s long draped sweater dresses paired with long skirts and in their place were maroon slacks, a black short-sleeved dress shirt and a silvery gray vest that hugged his waist. Kurt’s hair was messy but tucked behind his ears. He looked...perfect.

“Judy, huh?” Blaine said quietly. “Should have seen it before. Was her last name Garland?”

A small smile tugged at Kurt’s lips. “Well, she was Judy G. Undetermined last name. And to be fair, I look quite different with dark brown hair.”

“You don’t say,” Blaine muttered, sitting down.

“Uh...yeah,” Kurt frowned, looking confused. “Blaine...are you okay?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well I mean...” Kurt bit his lip. “Um, I’m alive? Yay?”

“Yay,” Blaine echoed. He turned his eyes up to Kurt’s. “Two months.”

Kurt blinked. “What?”

“For nearly two months, I’ve thought you were dead. They told me they cremated you.”

“Yeah,” Kurt nodded. “That was apart of Santana’s plan, to make it look authentic. 

“Right,” Blaine muttered darkly.

Kurt wrung his hands. “Blaine are you...are you mad at me?”

“Do you remember what I told you that night Virginia died and I got back home and you’d been there all along?”

“You...you said that you’d thought that I died.”

“Yeah,” Blaine said hoarsely. “And do you remember what I said after that?”

“I...” Kurt licked his lips. “You told me to always let you know if I was okay.”

Blaine stared at him. “And you were. For two months I was half-dead drinking myself out of my mind because of that morning on Dalton’s roof.” 

“But I’m fine--”

“Exactly. You’re fine and in the past two months it never even occurred that maybe you should call me and tell me that?”

“I wanted to tell you!” Kurt said desperately. “But Santana said it would be better for the case--”

“Right,” Blaine said with a humorless laugh. “And what about Judy? You’ve been sitting next to me for the past two days and you never thought to maybe give me at least some sort of hint?”

“I’m sorry! I was just doing what Santana and David told me to!”

“Oh, and what’s your excuse for the rooftop? You laid it on there pretty thick before you stepped off the roof!”

“Blaine--”

“Especially knowing that you were going to be alright! Singing and your arms spread out and telling me goodbye. Did you know that it was your goodbye that made me realize that you were really gone? Because in all my time that I’ve known you, you’ve never once said goodbye to me except for up on the Dalton roof! And it was all for show? Jesus, Sebastian was right, you are fucking insane!”

Kurt looked at him like he’d been slapped.

Blaine sighed. “Kurt, I--”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Kurt said quietly. Then his voice raised. “Dammit Blaine, I’ve been trying to knock it through you head but you still don’t realize that I’m a boy!”

Blaine’s lips parted. “Kurt, I know you’re not a girl--”

“No. That’s not what I meant!” Kurt wiped his eyes furiously. “I know that you don’t think of me as a girl, but what you don’t get is that I’m not a man! I’m...I’m just a boy, Blaine. I may be seventeen now, but the fact still stands that I have no legal guardian, no identification, no schooling, no home, nothing! I have nothing, Blaine! So if two adults come to me and tell me that they’re going to help lock up my monsters, I’m going to listen to them. I’m going to do what they say. I’m not--” He broke off, looking to the side. “You’ve always treated me like an adult, and I’ve loved that but you need to realize that I’m not, Blaine. I’m a kid.” He breathed out heavily, not even bothering to wipe his eyes anymore. “And I thought you’d understand that.”

The silence rang between them before there was a knock on the door. An unfamiliar woman stuck her head it with a smile. “Kurt, five minutes, okay?”

Kurt nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right out.”

The door closed quietly.

“I have to go into witness protection,” Kurt said quietly. “They’re working on getting my birth certificate back into order and setting up a permanent residence so I can get an ID.”

“Good luck,” Blaine said quietly.

Kurt stared at him. “Don’t you even want to know where I’m going?”

Blaine was still before slowly shaking his head. 

Kurt wrapped his arms around himself. “Well...I guess I’ll go and paint my roses red by myself.”

He paused as he passed Blaine, looking over at him before he left the room.

***

Twenty minutes later, Blaine was back at his hotel room, wrenching the door open to the loud celebration going on inside.

“Blaine!” Sam grinned, glass in hand. “Isn’t this great? We all got--”

“Get out.”

Sam frowned. “Wha...?”

“Get. OUT!” Blaine yelled. “All of you! Get out!”

The group stared at him in shock before each of them filed out, one by one.

“Santana, out!” he snapped when she was the last one in the room, legs crossed in his chair.

“I don’t think so,” she shrugged, sipping her gin. “You didn’t say please.”

“Please get the fuck out,” Blaine snarled, raking a hand through his gelled hair and messing it up.”

“So touchy,” Santana rolled her eyes. “I thought you’d be in hog heaven considering that Kurt’s safe and sound.”

“About that,” he turned on her. “Where the hell do you get off on letting me think that he’s dead for nearly two months before springing this whole thing on me today? Did it ever occur to you that maybe the best way to get me to sober up would have been to say ‘Hey Blaine! Guess what? Kurt’s alive after all!’ or that maybe you could have at least--”

“It was for his own safety!” Santana snapped, standing. “I’ll admit, I had my reservations but David thought it was for the best! And everything worked out fine between you and Kurt--”

“Everything didn’t work out fine, Santana!’ he yelled. “Because when you do stuff like this, when you have all these ulterior motives, it makes everything else go to shit!”

She stared at him hard. “You yelled at him, didn’t you?”

“That’s beside the point--”

“No, that is the point. Blaine do you have any idea how torn up about all of this he was? He begged us everyday to call you and tell you that he was alright. Last night he cried for hours because he’d sat next to you all day and hadn’t been able to say anything. And you yelled at him?”

“He lied to me--”

“He’s given up so much for you, Blaine! Hell, he jumped off a fucking roof for you!”

“He knew he would survive!”

“No he didn’t!”

Blaine froze. “What?”

“We just told the courts that so it seemed like we had everything under control,” Santana yelled. “But really, the guys who were sent up to the fourth floor barely had the window open before Kurt jumped and they dropped him. He fell to the guys on the third floor and they dropped him as well. His fingers caught on a second floor window, but they’d been broken so he fell to the ground and broke his legs and four ribs. We managed to get him into a squad car and drive him to the hospital before any eyewitnesses could see that he survived.

She breathed heavily, whipping an escaped lock of hair behind her ear. “He didn’t know there’d be someone there to catch him when he jumped. He honestly thought he was dying to save you.” 

Blaine’s mouth opened slightly as his breath left him. “Where...where are they taking him?”

“What?” Santana snapped, folding her arms. 

“Witness protection. Where are they taking him? I have to talk to him.”

“I don’t know,” Santana said coldly. “That’s sort of the whole point of witness protection. He said he’d call me in a month or two so he could settle down first and get his bearings.”

Blaine sat down on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. “Fuck...”

“But probably somewhere relaxing for his father.” 

Blaine’s head snapped up. “What?”

“What do you think he’s been doing the past two months? They’ve spent the past twelve years apart.”

“But...Kurt told me that his parents died...” Blaine whispered. 

“His mother did,” Santana shrugged. “His father slipped into a coma but woke up a month later, after Kurt was already in the system. He had amnesia so he was taken into a home to be rehabilitated. He gets flashes every now and then, but he’s doing better. Got a job. Works in a garage. We were able to reunite them but...he doesn’t remember Kurt. So Kurt just started helping out at his garage, posing as a worker. They’re going to both be moved together.”

Blaine traced patterns in the carpet with his eyes as he took all of the information in, his mind reeling. “I fucked up,” he muttered. “Like...I really fucked it up this time.”

“Yeah, you fucked up pretty bad,” Santana snapped, walking to the door.

“Who’s Eli C.?”

Santana paused at the door, turning back. “What?”

“Eli C. You mentioned him during the trial and Sebastian didn’t know who he was.”

Santana crossed her arms. “We think...we think he was the person who did Kurt’s make-up and hair at Dalton after the Tinman killings. He left...a bunch of cards and love notes for Kurt.”

“Love notes?” Blaine’s brow furrowed.

Santana shifted uncomfortably. “Well, they were all hearts and they all said K.H. + Eli C. on them. He received...quite a few considering he was held captive for just over a month and it’s rather...disconcerting to see them all together.”

Blaine nodded. “Did Kurt saw what he looked like?”

Santana shook her head sadly. “No, he was so drugged up that he just said that he looked blurry.”

“Okay.”

Santana left.

Blaine sat on his bed for what seemed like hours but was probably only ten minutes before he unbuttoned his suit jacket and took it off, laying it next to him. He looked over at the breast pocket and there was the handkerchief. The black one that he’d had for over ten years. The one he’d wiped Kurt’s face with back when he was five. 

Blaine slid it out of the pocket and unfolded it, looking at the four beads and little ruby belly button piercing.

He sighed and fell back onto his bed.

***

There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile

He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile 

He bought a crooked cat and it caught a crooked mouse

And they all lived together in a little crooked house.

***

A week passed.

Most of the witnesses had gone back to their respective homes with the exception of Sam--who went to Seattle for “vacation”, Chandler--who was still getting his testimony in formal writing for court records, Santana--who was sticking around to help out David, and Blaine--who honestly didn’t know why he was still in Lima.

He figured it was because it was the last place that he’d seen a certain somebody, but he didn’t want to face that possibility quite at the moment.

And then Thursday happened.

***

Blaine woke up late Thursday morning, groaning at his hangover and stumbling to the bathroom to pee. On his way back, he noticed that a note had been slipped under his door.

Frowning, he opened it.

Thanks for letting me know that Katy is alive. We’ll have a lot of fun when I get to her tonight. Let’s hope the little kitty still has her claws. 

***

“Where is he?” Blaine burst into Santana’s office.

She looked up in shock as she was writing down Chandler’s testimony. “Blaine, what--”

Blaine tossed the note on her desk and folded his arms, waiting.

Santana read it, her eyes going wide as she grabbed her cellphone, dialing. It was a short call an she looked back at them, eyes fearful.

“Sebastian escaped.” 

“What?” Blaine yelled.

“No,” Chandler whispered.

“Where’s Kurt?” Blaine demanded.

“I don’t know!” Santana said agitatedly. “He hasn’t called me yet! I have no idea where he is!”

“So we just have to sit here and wait for that psychopath to get to him?” Blaine yelled.

“Chandler,” Santana sighed. “Do you know where Sebastian might go? Or how he might have found out? Or how he got out of his holding cell in the first place?”

“Um...” Chandler shifted his eyes back and forth between them nervously. “I mean, he has connections literally everywhere.”

“Fuck!” Blaine kicked the trashcan, sitting down. He looked up at Santana. “Did Kurt get to choose where he went?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “That was part of the deal.”

Blaine sighed. “Then he’s on the west coast, definitely. It’s where he feels the most safe, away from all of this. But I doubt he’d go to Seattle again since everyone knows he has connections there...” He ran his hands through his hair. “And his dad’s with him so I doubt they’d go to somewhere like LA...”

“He could be in any small town,” Santana suggested.

“No,” Blaine shook his head. “He likes big cities because there are more places for him to hide if he needs to.” He groaned, putting his head in his hand. “He told me a clue. I just don’t know what it is...”

“A clue?” Chandler frowned.

“He always leaves some sort of clue for me to find him no matter what,” Blaine groaned. “What did he tell me what did he tell me what did he tell me--”

“Well...I guess I’ll go and paint my roses red by myself.” 

Blaine’s head snapped up. “Give me your laptop.”

He grabbed Santana’s laptop and typed two words into Google, eyes scanning the results. “I know where he is.”

“Where?”

He turned the laptop. “The Rose City. Portland.”

“Sebastian has a house in Portland,” Chandler said suddenly.

“Really?” Santana frowned, looking at her papers. “It’s not on the list.”

“That’s because he acquired it in...less than legal manners,” Chandler said delicately. “But he definitely has one, I just can’t remember the exact address...If I could just get to Portland, I’d know where to go...”

“Fine,” Blaine nodded. “You’re coming with me.”

“What?” Chandler’s eyes widened. “Go up against Sebastian?”

“It’ll be three against one if we can get to Kurt first,” Blaine said urgently.

“I--okay,” Chandler nodded. “I’ll do it.”

“Make sure he’s okay,” Santana said firmly. “I have to stay here and work out the legal business with David over Sebastian going missing, but I’ll keep you updated, alright?”

“Alright,” Blaine nodded.

***

They arrived in downtown Portland just as the sun was setting. They checked all the French bakeries first, then the tea shops, then the art stores.

No sign of Kurt.

Santana had already called ahead with witness protection, but she’d been unable to get an address.

“Where the hell could he be?” Chandler sighed as they drove around.

“Hopefully not with Sebastian already,” Blaine mumbled. “Did you figure out which street he’s on?”

“I definitely know it when I see it,” Chandler said distractedly, looking out the window.

Blaine took a sharp left.

“What the hell?” Chandler snapped.

“I...I think I know where Kurt might be.”

Chandler frowned as they lurched to a stop. “Powell’s Books...?”

“He...he has this thing for fashion magazines,” Blaine said distractedly. “And this is the biggest bookstore on the West Coast, maybe even the country, I don’t know.” 

It was fairly large, the multiple story building taking up an entire city block, filled to the brim with books.

“Wait here,” Blaine said, handing Chandler the keys. “I’m going to get Kurt and then we’re going to get the hell out of here. Got it?”

“Got it,” Chandler nodded, taking them.

Blaine slid out of the car and into the bookstore.

It was surprisingly empty inside, considering it was supposed to be one of the busiest sections. “Uh...hello?”

“Hello?” A young early-twenty-something walked out of the back, smiling as he brushed his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Sure...” Blaine glanced down at his name tag which said E. Carson. “...uh. You. I was wondering if you’d seen a teenage boy? Um, sort of short choppy chestnut hair--”

“Dreamy blue eyes?” the worker smiled. “Yeah, he’s over by the magazines, opposite end of the store.

“Thanks,” Blaine smiled as he walked through the different colored sections, unease creeping over him at the sheer silence of the place. The handful of times he’d been to Powell’s before it had always been bustling and full of people and now it was dead quiet.

His feet echoed as he made his way over to the magazine section. “Kurt?”

The lights shut off completely.

Blaine blinked, his heart rate picking up as fear crept into his veins. “Kurt? Are you there?”

“Blaine?”

Blaine breathed out in relief as he moved through the stacks to find Kurt crouching down slightly next to the gardening section. “Kurt...” he grabbed him and held him tight, his nose digging into Kurt’s neck. “Oh, thank god.”

“Blaine, what are you doing here?” Kurt whispered. “What’s going on?”

“Sebastian broke out of his cell,” Blaine quickly explained. “I don’t know how, but he figured out where you were and he’s coming after you tonight and...” He glanced up at the cut lights. “It looks like he might already be here.”

“But none of that makes sense,” Kurt frowned. “How on earth did he find me--”

Blaine clapped his hand over Kurt’s mouth because someone was walking there way. Their hands shook together as the steps echoed through the small section, each sounding fifty times louder in the dark. 

The footsteps gradually started to walk away and they both breathed out, moving quietly through the stacks into the blue section.

“I don’t get it though,” Kurt frowned as they snaked around, trying to get back to the rose section. “This doesn’t seem like Sebastian at all. I mean, why would he cut the lights? It would just set me on edge and make it easier for me to hide from him, that’s not something he would do--ARGH!”

Kurt screamed as he tripped over a display and fell hard on his back, a heavy book falling onto his stomach.

“Shhh!” Blaine hushed, breaking out into a sweat. “Kurt come on, get up!”

But Kurt was staring up at the ceiling, eyes wide. Then he looked back down at the book on his chest. It was a large and heavy book of medicine.

Suddenly he was on his feet. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

“Kurt, what--”

“It’s not Sebastian,” he whispered. “He didn’t cut the lights. He cut the power so those wouldn’t work.” He pointed upwards to the sprinklers and  fire alarms. “Blaine, we’re in the biggest supply of kindling in the city, we have to get out of here, now!” 

“But I don’t understand!” Blaine said as they headed back through blue. “Who is it?”

The answer was waiting for them under the next archway. 

Dave Karofsky.

“Hello Katy.”

They thought about running.

Instead, Kurt touched Blaine’s hand with his and Blaine linked their fingers together.

Kurt squared his shoulders. “Hello, Dave. You survived.”

Dave smiled. “Yes. I did.”

“How did you know where to look?”

“I didn’t.” He sent a smirk over to Blaine.

“Oh,” Blaine whispered.

“What?” Kurt frowned.

“The letter,” Blaine swallowed. “The one that was slid under my door. It was a bluff, wasn’t it? You had no idea where Kurt was so you sent me in a panic so that I’d lead you right to him.”  

Dave shrugged. “You were the one who fell for it. And now I think it’s time for us to go home, Katy.”

“My name is Kurt and I am home,” Kurt countered. “You’re not my legal guardian anymore, Dave. Even if you were, there’d be no chance in hell that I’d go back with you.”

“I had a feeling you might say that.”

Dave took out a lighter and clicked it, holding it near the bookshelf.

Blaine pulled out a gun.

“Drop the lighter.”

“No.”

“I’ll pull the trigger.”

“No you won’t.”

Dave put the lighter under a book.

Blaine pulled the trigger.

Kurt jumped at the loud shot, his eyes widening in horror as Dave Karofsky’s body fell to the ground with a thud.

Blaine put his gun down, eyes staring forward and unseeing.

“Blaine,” Kurt whispered, trying to turn Blaine’s face towards him. “Blaine, look at me, please, Blaine...”

Blaine turned his head slowly to look at Kurt. “Kurt, I--”

Kurt wrapped his hands tightly around him. “It’s over,” he murmured.

“It is,” Blaine whispered. “I’m sorry. If I’d just pulled the trigger last time, maybeI--you wouldn’t have been taken away for a month--”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kurt whispered. 

“I...I just killed someone.”

“I thought I’d killed him twice already,” Kurt mumbled. “And he was going to kill all of us.”

Blaine wrapped his arms fully around Kurt as they both shook in their shoes, clinging to each other.

“I thought...I thought something else would happen,” Kurt murmured. “That it’d be longer or that he’d chase us around.”

“I was tired of running.”

“Me too.”

Blaine’s cellphone buzzed. It was Santana.

“Blaine! It’s not Sebastian--”

“I know,” Blaine sighed. “It was Dave Karofsky.”

“Karofsky?” Santana seemed surprised. “He’s...alive?”

“Not anymore.”

“Oh. Well, neither is Sebastian.”

Blaine frowned. “What?”

“He was found dead in the old Smythe house in Lima, the one Kurt grew up in. He was murdered.”

“Do we know by who?”

“Actually...yes. Let me send you a picture.”

Blaine held his phone back, glancing briefly at the photo, cogs working in his mind. “Santana, I’m going to have to call you back.”

“What’s going on?” Kurt frowned, but Blaine ignored him.

“Chandler? Get over to the corner of Powell’s by the cafe. I’m going to send Kurt out to you. Call me back when he reaches the car.”

“Blaine?” Kurt frowned.

“Listen,” Blaine said urgently. “You are honestly going to have to trust me on this one. Go out to the car with Chandler.”

“Remember the last time you sent me out to a car?” Kurt asked wryly. “How do you know that Sebastian isn’t just waiting out there for me?”

“Because he’s dead,” Blaine sighed. “And...I’m pretty sure that the culprit is in this building.”

Kurt’s eyes widened. “Sebastian’s dead?”

“Kurt, just go! Get in the car and make sure that Chandler calls me!”

Kurt nodded, heading off and Blaine looked back down at his phone. At the picture that Santana sent him.

Sebastian Smythe’s mangled body was strewn in pieces all over the den, looking like he’d been torn apart by a wild animal. On the wall, written dozens of times in Sebastian’s blood were large grotesque hearts all bearing the same message:

K.H. 

+

Eli C. 

It was like some bizarrely morbid valentine. 

And, come to think of it, it was February 14th.

His phone rang and he picked up. 

“Blaine?”

“Hey, Chandler. You got Kurt?”

“Yeah, he’s here.”

“Prove it.”

“One sec...”

“Blaine, are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Give the phone back to Chandler.”

“Okay...” 

"What do you want us to do?”

“Hang tight and lock the doors. I’ll be out in five minutes.”

“Will do.”

Blaine hung up his phone and put it in his pocket.

Eli C.

He walked back over to the entrance where Chandler had originally dropped him off, just as all the lights in the building went back on. 

E. Carson was at the register, dusting off his fingers. He glanced up as he saw Blaine approach. “Hey! I thought I heard a shot or something. The power went out, so I didn’t know--”

Blaine held up the gun.

His eyes widened. “Woah dude, what--”

“You were working with Karofsky, weren’t you?” Blaine glared. “I was wondering how this place got so empty and also how the lights just went out all of the sudden.”

“Dude, I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“What’s your name?” Blaine demanded.

“What?”

Blaine cocked the gun. “Your. Name.”

“Evan! Evan Green!”

Blaine blinked. “But...your name tag. It says E. Carson.”

“Yeah. Evan Carson Green,” he nodded, eyes still fixated on Blaine’s gun. “I go by Carson, my middle name.”

Blaine frowned. “Do you ever call yourself Eli?”

“What?” Carson looked baffled. “Dude, no. I’m not the guy you’re looking for, you have a mix-up.”

Blaine stared at him as his words echoed in his head.

“You have a mix-up.”

His eyes widened as he lowered his gun and looked back at the picture on his phone. A mix-up. He stared for a solid minute before everything clicked into place.

He almost dropped his phone.

Instead, he dialed Santana’s number as he headed back into the store.

“Yes?”

“Santana...hypothetically speaking, what sort of frame of mind is this Eli C. person?”

“Um...I don’t know? He seems borderline psychopathic but it’s such an extreme case that one of the analysts here is suggesting dual personality. He’s definitely got a serious obsession complex.”

“So...if he finally got Kurt with no obstacles in the way, what would he do?”

“Honestly? Probably kill him. As with most obsession, he’s sort of built up Kurt in his head so when the real Kurt will clash with his obsessions, he’ll try to...correct him.”

Blaine’s heart raced as he moved quickly. “Santana, I fucked up.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We were looking at this from the wrong angle. His name isn’t actually Eli because he’s a coward. If Sebastian or Karofsky ever found out about his obsession with Kurt, he’d be booted off so he created a different name in case his love letters were ever found.”

“How on earth do you know that?”

“Because K.H. and Eli C. It’s a declaration of love or obsession or whatever, but it’s also an anagram--the letters are all mixed up. If you rearrange K.H. and Eli C., it becomes C. Kiehl.” 

“You mean--”

“Chandler,” Blaine whispered as he pushed open the cafe door to the empty street. “The killer is Chandler. And he has Kurt.”

***

“Where are we going?” Kurt frowned.

“The rose gardens,” Chandler replied with a smile. “Blaine said to wait there for him while he deals with whatever is going on at Powell’s and he’ll meet us when he’s done.”

“Why the rose gardens?” Kurt queried. 

“They’re open until midnight,” Chandler shrugged. “So they’re kind of ideal. I dunno, I think it’s kind of romantic. Blaine, coming to you through a rose garden so you two can run off into the sunset.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, giggling, but he still moved his right hand over to feel his left side, where the rose tattoos were and he smiled a little.

They pulled in to the Peninsula Park Rose Garden, on the north end of the city. Most of the flowers were closed due to the time of year and time of night, but there were a couple of varieties that were still open and red, white, and pink lights were strung up everywhere.

“Wow...” Kurt whispered. “It’s...it’s beautiful...”

“That’s right,” Chandler murmured. “We were so busy with everything that I forgot it’s Valentine’s Day.” He sighed. “No one to celebrate it with this year, I guess.”

Kurt bit his lip. He hadn’t had the heart to tell Chandler that Sebastian was dead. “Well...you at least have me until Blaine shows up,” he said warmly with a soft smile, offering a hand. “Come on, let’s go look at the roses...”

The walk was pleasant enough, if a bit nippy. Chandler was prattling on about this or that and Kurt was nodding at all the appropriate moments.

“You know, I really admire you, Kurt.”

Kurt looked over at Chandler in surprise, his eyebrows raising. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Chandler nodded. “I mean, you went through all of this horrible and terrible stuff and you’re only seventeen. Like...you’re so brave. I don’t know, I always get sort of nervous when stuff like this happens and I tend to clam up. It’s stupid, but--”

“No,” Kurt shook his head. “It’s not. You just have a strong sense of self-preservation, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Chandler smiled. “Thanks, Kurt.” He tucked a lock of flaxen hair behind his ear. Then he leaned over and kissed Kurt.

Kurt pulled back in surprise, his eyebrows shooting up. “Um...Chandler? What are you doing?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Chandler shrugged. “And we’re in a rose garden and the lights are out. Come on...”

“No!” Kurt said, pushing him away. “We’re just waiting for Blaine. That’s it.”

“Blaine’s not coming,” Chandler rolled his eyes. 

Kurt froze. “What do you mean, Blaine’s not coming?”

“I mean he doesn’t know where we are,” Chandler mumbled, pulling at Kurt’s arm. “Just come on, Kurt--”

“No, stop--Blaine!”

“Shut up! Why do you even like Blaine, anyways? Didn’t he yell at you last week after the trial?”

“Chandler, let go of me!”

But Chandler seemed beyond words. “I was the one who helped you when you needed me and gave you cards and valentines!”

Kurt stopped struggling, his eyes going wide. “What?”

“Every day,” Chandler said reverently, stroking Kurt’s face. “Every day I’d come to do your hair and makeup and even though you were out of it I’d try to make you feel cherished. What’s Blaine ever done for you?”

“Where is he,” Kurt demanded.

“Probably back at the bookstore.”

“Actually, right behind you.”

They boy turned to see Blaine standing by a pink cabbage rose bush, gun cocked.

“Blaine!” Kurt’s face broke out into a grin that quickly resolved when Chandler grabbed him, pushing him in front of him. Kurt clawed at the arm around his neck but it was no use.

“Let him go, Chandler,” Blaine snapped. “It’s over. The police are already on their way.”

Chandler looked around, panicked, gradually backing away with Kurt.

“How long, Chandler?” Blaine sighed. “Were you in cahoots with Sebastian during the Tinman killings?”

“No!” Chandler shook his head. “I went over to his apartment after the masquerade and he had Kurt tied up on the table. I hid and watched.”

“You mean you cowered with fear,” Blaine said dryly.

Chandler glared at him. “See? That’s what it’s been like my whole life. Everyone calling me a coward or saying that I don’t have the nerve or that I’m just some dandy! Hell, Jesse loves it! And my whole life I’ve only ever wanted to be courageous until that night with Sebastian. And I realized that power was the key. If you had power, no one would ever call you a coward.”

“So you agreed to help Sebastian afterward,” Blaine said, keeping his gun aimed. “You’d make sure that Kurt looked pretty and put together just so you could spend time with him.”

“You wouldn’t believe the high,” Chandler breathed. “He was completely drugged up and I had complete control over everything that happened to him. That’s power.”

“But you were obviously too much of a coward to make your intentions known, so you hid under the pseudonym of Eli C. in case your little love letters were ever discovered.”

“Shut up.”

“And you just became more and more obsessed with Kurt which is why you ended up killing Sebastian, right? He doesn't have a house here, that was just a ruse to find out where Kurt was. You helped Sebastian escape and then you killed him, like an animal.”

Chandler smiled coldly. “Did you know that he does have a heart? Everyone thinks he doesn’t, but I held it in my hand and squeezed it long after the light had left his eyes.” 

Kurt was feeling woozy.

“And it was to make sure that Kurt would stay safe. What did you do to make sure Kurt stayed safe from Sebastian? That’s right. You let him go.”

“I’m pretty sure that Kurt needs to stay safe from you,” Blaine said.

“Hardly.”

“You’re hurting him.”

“I’m protecting him!” Chandler snapped taking another step back and failing to notice the steep drop-off behind him. 

Blaine’s eyes flickered to the edge. “Just...just let him go, Chandler.” He took a step forward.

“No!”

“Chandler!”

Blaine dropped his gun and raced forward as Chandler took another step back into thin air and started to fall, taking Kurt with him. 

Blaine grabbed Kurt’s arm, pulling him back into his arms as they looked down, six feet below. 

Chandler had fallen into a white rose bush. The five metal spikes arranged in a circle to help influence the shape of the plant were sticking out of his chest and dark crimson blood was steadily dripping onto the roses, staining them red. 

***

Ring around the rosie

A pocket full of posies

Ashes

Ashes

We all fall down.

***

The hotel was brick and covered in ivy. Kurt just stared ahead blankly as Blaine bought them a room and he followed him up the stairs in a haze. The room was cozy and snug. Kurt couldn’t care less. He stripped off his clothes slowly and headed towards the bathroom, closing it firmly behind him. He didn’t look in the mirror as he turned the shower on and stepped under the spray.

Five minutes later, he was curled up in the corner of the shower and Blaine was pulling back the curtain, stepping in fully clothed and sitting next to him, pulling him into his lap.

Kurt clutched Blaine’s shirt, curling against him as he sobbed into his neck.

“I called the authorities,” Blaine murmured. “They’re taking care of both of the bodies.”

Kurt nodded against his neck, unable to stop the next wave of sobs that racked his body. “How--” he hiccuped. “How did you find me?”

“I figured out that Chandler was Eli and I thought of the one romantic place he might want to take you that would still be open. I--I’m sorry for losing you again. I keep doing that.”

“But you also keep finding me,” Kurt whispered. “And that’s what’s important.”

“I’ll always find you,” Blaine murmured, pressing a sweet gentle kiss to the crook of Kurt’s neck. “As long as you need to be found.”

Kurt sighed, melting into him as the hot spray washed over them, molding their bodies together.

“Could you...could you talk about something else?”

Blaine nodded. “A lot happened while you were...away.”

“Really?”

“Sam and Mercedes are apparently a thing now.”

Blaine could feel the smile against his neck.

“Santana got a tattoo from Brittany.”

“I saw. It’s very fitting.”

“It is. Oh, and Quinn had the baby.”

Kurt pulled back, his eyes alight.

“She was a healthy baby girl,” Blaine said quietly. “They named her after you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Elizabeth. They call her Beth for short.”

Kurt smiled. “That’s nice.”

“It is,” Blaine nodded. “And...I heard that you found your dad again?”

Kurt’s shoulders hunched. “He’s not...he’s not my dad. I mean, he is, but he doesn’t remember me. So...he’s just Burt. Burt and Kurt.”

“Is there any chance?” Blaine murmured. 

Kurt nodded. “He remembers my mother now and he didn’t before. He just...he thinks that I’m a distant nephew that he’s forgotten and...” He shrugged. “That’s just how we’re working for now.”

“Okay,” Blaine nodded.

“Yeah,” Kurt sighed, leaning back in to tuck his head in the crook of Blaine’s neck.

“I love you,” Blaine whispered.

“I love you too,” Kurt whispered back.

***

The bed was large and white and strewn with rose petals for the holiday.

Blaine rolled his eyes and pulled off the top sheet, scattering the petals onto the floor and instead just grabbed the comforter off the foot of the bed and pulled it up. His clothes were still wet so he was just naked for now.

An equally naked Kurt wandered out of the bathroom, running a hand through his wet hair.

“Come here,” Blaine smiled, taking something out of his bag as Kurt crawled up onto the bed. 

Blaine produced the black handkerchief and opened it.

Kurt smiled as he took out the four beads, fixing them into his hair and then sliding the piercing back into his bellybutton. “Yay.”

Chuckling, Blaine pulled back the comforter.

Kurt hesitated. 

“I’m not asking for anything, Kurt,” Blaine said gently. “I just...I want to hold you. That’s all.”

Kurt nodded and slid under the covers with him, curling into Blaine’s chest.

“So now what?” he whispered.

Blaine licked his lips. “We...we go our separate ways?”

Kurt held onto his middle tighter. “I don’t want that.”

Blaine squeezed him as his eyes misted up. “I don’t either.”

“But...” Kurt cleared his throat. “But I do think that we should...take a break, maybe.”

“I hate the sound of that,” Blaine said petulantly.

“I know,” Kurt laughed softly. “But the fact is...I’m still just a kid, Blaine. And after all this mess...I think I need time to grow up.”

“No you don’t,” Blaine whispered into his hair. “You grew up way too fast. You still need time to be a kid.”

Kurt smiled against his chest. “Stop being right.”

They laid in silence.

“I’m sorry.”

Kurt tilted his head up. “For what?”

“For yelling at you after the trial. I’d just felt so guilty. All that time...I blamed myself for being the reason that you’d died.”

“Oh no Blaine,” Kurt whispered, sitting up. “Don’t you see? You’re the reason I lived.”

Blaine’s breath left him as he leaned forward and kissed Kurt, cupping his cheek. “I want you to have my house,” he whispered. 

Kurt pulled back. “What?”

“You’re going to have to move again, aren’t you? I want you and your dad to take my house in Seattle.”

“Blaine, we can’t--”

Blaine pressed a finger to his lips. “Please. You’ll be close to your friends and I won’t worry as much.”

Kurt frowned. “Where will you be?”

“New York. The apartment in the Village.”

“Blaine--”

“Kurt, please. Just...after everything I’ve done, please just let me do this one thing.”

Kurt ran his fingers through his hair. “After everything you’ve done, I shouldn’t let you because it’s too much.”

“Please.”

“I...alright. If da--if Burt approves.”

Blaine smiled, wrapping his arms around Kurt again.

“I’ll come back one day.”

“How will I know when?”

“Oh trust me. You’ll know. There’ll be a sign.”

Kurt smiled as he closed his eyes.

“I’m scared though,” Blaine whispered. “Because this feels like goodbye.”

“Oh Mr. Earl Grey,” Kurt slurred as he tipped off into sleep. “I’ll never say goodbye to you again.

***

In the morning, Kurt was gone.

***

And as the world comes to an end

I’ll be here to hold your hand

Because you're my king and I’m your lionheart.

***

Two years later.

***

“Kur’! Kur’!” Beth grinned as she toddled over to the kids section of Elliott Bay Bookstore. 

Kurt grinned as he watched her plop right down on the hardwood floor and started flipping through a cardboard picture book.

“She’s a real handful, ain’t she?”

Kurt smiled over at Burt, nodding. “Yeah. Thanks again for helping me take care of her today.”

“No problem,” Burt smiled. “It’s nice to get out of the garage and I know that kids can be a handful.”

“Oh really?” Kurt teased. “And how would you know?”

Burt frowned for a moment, considering. “I...I don’t...”

“It’s okay,” Kurt smiled, rubbing his shoulder as pain shot through his chest. “Come on, let’s get little miss princess over here and then we can grab some ice cream at Molly Moon’s.”

“Sure thing, kiddo.”

Kurt blinked, staring at him.

“Sorry,” Burt said distractedly. “Sorry, I don’t know why I called you that.”

“It’s fine,” Kurt said hurriedly. “I like it.”

Burt smiled and nodded and Kurt was so caught up in the hope creeping into his chest that he accidentally walked into one of the best seller displays, crashing to the ground.

“Kurt, are you okay?”

“Fine,” Kurt blushed. “Just humiliated.” He picked up the opened book and froze when he read a sentence

“Don’t blather about, Grey,” Alexander admonished the earl with a condescending look. “We must get to the opium den before...

Kurt looked at the cover of the book. “Tea Cups and Biscuits and Murders, Oh My” written by Blaine Anderson and Judy Porcelain.

“No way,” Kurt muttered, flipping to the back flap. Blaine’s eyes stared out at him in an intense black and white photo with a mini bio listing his accomplishments. Below was the bio for Judy Porcelain:

Judy is the single greatest person that I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, and who wishes to stay anonymous for this book (though perhaps we can persuade them to cowrite our next work more publicly). The creator of both Elliott and Alexander, Judy was a crucial part to the creation of this book and for that, I would like to give my utmost thanks.

Kurt smiled as he flipped to the front of the book, smiling at the title page until he reached the dedication:

To the boy from Oz, who’s arms will always be home for me. 

***

That night, Kurt found himself at Unicorn, one of the bars on Capitol Hill, enjoying a White Russian. His hair was slicked back for once and he was wearing a backless black shirt that tied around his neck and hips.

“Nice tats.” 

Kurt smiled into his drink as he swiveled on his stool. “Why thank you, Blaine.”

Blaine smiled, looking the same as ever in all black with his stubbly face and messy hair. 

“You got old,” Kurt sighed.

“Hey,” Blaine admonished. “I’m only thirty. What about you, Mr. Nineteen? Speaking of which, how are you even here?”

“Puck made me a fake ID for all the times I’ve babysat Beth,” Kurt shrugged.

“Ah,” Blaine nodded.

Kurt smiled as he hopped off the stool. “I got your sign.”

“Really?” Blaine smiled back.

Kurt arched his eyebrows. “Judy?”

Blaine shrugged. “You were the one to come up with the name.”

Kurt laughed. “I guess so. Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

They left the bar and walked west, towards downtown. It was April and slightly warm but still with a chance of rain. Unbidden, their hands crept towards each other and ended up linking as they walked in silence, not even needing to say anything. They could feel the bonds between them stitching and mending as they merely soaked up being in one another’s presence.

“Well how about that?” Blaine muttered.

“No way,” Kurt smiled.

The Egyptian Theater--famous for its midnight shows of random pieces of cinematic history--was showing the Wizard of Oz.

It seemed like a terrible idea, but they bought tickets and huddled together in the front row with their popcorn in the empty movie theater. 

“I’m glad you’re back,” Kurt whispered as the introduction started playing. “I...I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Blaine whispered. “Can we not...do this? Like, ever again?”

Kurt smiled. “I’d like that.

The movie went better than they expected. Kurt had to hide his face in Blaine’s shoulder during the Tinman’s song, and they both remained incredibly stoic when the Cowardly Lion started singing...

“It’s sad, believe me, missy, when you’re born to be a sissy without the vim and verve. But I could show my prowess, be a lion not a mouse if I only had the nerve...I’m afraid there’s no denying, I’m just a dandy-lion. A fate I don’t deserve...”

But they got into the story that they’d both fallen in love with growing up despite the current context it had given them. 

And by the end of the movie, they found themselves smiling at the screen, Kurt’s head on Blaine’s shoulder and Blaine’s head on top of Kurt’s. 

“Me too,” Kurt said quietly.

“What?” Blaine whispered. 

Kurt tilted his head to look over at Blaine. “Your arms are home for me too.”

Blaine smiled at him as he wrapped his arm around Kurt’s shoulder and pulled him in close.

"Oh Blaine..." Kurt said quietly, blinking back tears as his face broke into a smile. "There's no place like home."

***

The end...?

***

Epilogue: October. Again.

***

"Okay seriously though. How the hell does this keep happening?"

Blaine snorted, steering the gondola so they didn’t run into a bridge.

“Every damn time,” Kurt sighed. “We do something new or kinky with sex and the we end up in a boat. 

It was a year and a half after Blaine had returned to Seattle. They’d clicked into place almost immediately and it was like Blaine had always been there. 

Eight months ago, Burt had regained most of his memories about Kurt and there’d been lots of crying and family therapy and hugs and general love all around.

(Well...after a whole lot of threatening because as soon as Burt had had his epiphany, he’d run straight to Kurt’s room where Kurt had been...busy with Blaine in a nude manner.) 

And now, as an earlier birthday present, Blaine gave Kurt a trip to Italy because he apparently needed to do some research for his next book and refused to go without Kurt.

“Seriously, you’re not even working,” Kurt rolled his eyes as he sketched on his notepad. “At least I’m being productive.”

“I’m steering!”

“Excuses,” Kurt rolled his eyes. “What about last night when you had six straight hours to write?”

“You were naked. I’d much rather do you than my work.”

Kurt snorted. “Well, I personally won’t be blindsided by the beauty of your nude form because nothing will stop me turning in this portfolio to Parsons and getting a full scholarship and then getting K. E. Hummel Designs underway. With a generous donation from my benefactor, of course.”

“Benefactor,” Blaine muttered darkly. “That just sounds so seedy.”

“Boyfriend, whatever.”

“Much better,” Blaine grinned dopily.

“You’re such a child.”

“I’m thirty-two! You’re the one who can’t drink yet!”

“Only two more months, and only in America,” Kurt grumbled. “Now hush, or I won’t design you any more clothes.”

“Please don’t put me in a cardigan again.”

“Need I remind you? K.E. Hummel: Fashion has no gender. The male population needs to know how comfortable tights are.”

Blaine smiled wryly as they turned the corner and he sat down as the current took them along. “I remember, darling,” he smiled, leaning over for a kiss. “And look, I’m being productive now and working on my novel.”

Kurt smiled as he nestled back into the crook of the boat. “I’m so proud. Oh, and if you need inspiration, did you know that there’s an alternate version to Little Miss Muffet?”

Blaine raised an eyebrow. “No, I did not know that.”

Kurt grinned. “I identify with it a lot more, I think. It was written by Peter Doyle about his alleged homosexual relationship with Walt Whitman.”

“Oh?” Blaine smirked. “Do tell?”

Kurt licked his lips and recited, “Little Miss Man/Had a great plan/To get her man to love/Along came the writer/Who sat down beside her/And said, ‘You fit like a glove’.”

Blaine’s lips broadened. “I can see how that could apply.”

Kurt giggled and leaned back again, going back to his sketches.

Blaine took out his pen and notebook, nervous as they neared the main canal because he knew what was about to come and he felt so frightened and excited that he could hardly wait. 

But he took a deep breath and started writing to distract himself from the gold band in the box in his pocket.

Once upon a time, there was a boy from Oz

Kurt slammed his bag down on the tea shop table, spilling water all over the stranger who was sitting there.

Who had a unicorn on his back

Kurt rubbed his hand across his lower back as he leaned against Blaine in the attic, looking over the heavy gray fog of Seattle, the confessed words still hanging between them.

A thorn in his side

He smiled against the leather on Brittany’s table as she filled in the color of the roses after she’d fixed his tattoos from the lashings that he’d gotten, adding wings to the unicorn to hide the new scars.

And wanted to fly

Kurt clenched his eyes shut as he stepped up to the edge of the roof, tears streaming down his face.

He wandered around lost

He grabbed Blaine’s hand and pulled him through the rain of Pioneer Square, trying to find a hiding place.

Searching for wisdom

He backed away slowly from Will.

Love

His heart clenched as Sebastian took him in his arms during the masquerade ball.

And courage

He tried to block the images of Dave and Chandler’s dead bodies from his mind but they’d still creep up in the dead of night.

So that he could go home.

He sniffed as he looked up and a tall stranger offered him a black handkerchief and a music box.

But little did he know that he only had to look inside himself to realize that he had the power within him all along

Kurt giggled as Blaine attacked his belly button, licking the piercing and smudging ink all over the both of them.

And that home was right next to him 

Blaine awkwardly got down on one knee in front of Kurt and the words weren’t even out of his mouth before Kurt was tackling him and the gold band with rubies and emeralds ended up on his finger.

Offering a hand.