"... I'm just not sure how I feel about the second act. I think the director should have taken that in a totally different direction. I mean, I know I'm training to be an actor, not a director, but I still think I know missed potential when I see it. But back to acting, I could definitely have played the role of Lisa. Don't you think that I could have brought something really special to that role, Kurt? Kurt, are you even listening to me?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Of course, Rachel."

"You're just humoring me, but I appreciate the effort," she said with a small smile. "I know I'm rambling, I just want to study every aspect of these little fringe plays. Shows like that are where we're most likely going to start our careers, Kurt. I know I'm destined for Broadway eventually, they're just not ready for me yet, if that awful Funny Girl callback is anything to go by."

Kurt barely bit back a sigh. He knew she'd been building up to that. It had been nearly three weeks since Rachel's failed audition for the role of Fanny Brice, and she hadn't gone a single day without mentioning it. He wanted to comfort her, but more than anything he wanted to get back to their apartment first. Even after eight months in New York, he still got a little turned around in downtown Manhattan, where the streets were no longer neatly laid out on a grid. And he was pretty sure they just kept circling the block around the tiny theatre they'd just come from, because he hadn't seen a sign for the subway yet.

"But anyway, Jeremy was pretty great in the show, wasn't he?" Rachel asked, bumping her shoulder against Kurt's arm. "And it was so sweet of him to hang around and sign autographs and say hello to us afterward." She reapplied her lip gloss and not-so-subtly fluffed up her hair before flipping it over her shoulder.

"He's not here, Rachel, I don't know why you're still preening like that." He knew it didn't matter. A mere mention of the senior NYADA student's name had her primping on the spot. She'd practically been glowing when he stopped the two of them in the hall outside the dance studio the day before to give them his extra tickets to the show.

"I know, I just think he's a good friend to have. He's obviously very driven, completing his studies while in an Off-Broadway show. A lot of students would put school on hold for an opportunity like that."

"It's off-off-Broadway, Rachel. It only has a three week run. And I'm sure friendship is all he wants from us," Kurt said with a roll of his eyes. Rachel was oblivious, of course, but he hadn't missed the way Jeremy's hand had stayed on his shoulder a moment too long when handing over the tickets, or that his eyes lingered on Kurt rather than Rachel as they walked away.

"Of course he just wants to be friends with us! Not that I'd say no if he were to suggest a nice candle-lit dinner..."

"Ok, Rachel, hold up—I know we've walked down this street already. Where the hell is the subway?" he asked, furiously searching for the right app on his phone. "Ah, we make a left turn up here, not right." He looped his arm through Rachel's, dragging her a little as he picked up his pace.

They fell into silence as they walked down the unfamiliar street, the noise and hubbub of the city falling into the background. Kurt caught a glimpse of something moving out of the corner of his eye, but he still jumped when an unfamiliar voice rang out across the street.

"Psychic reading, dears?" A woman dressed in flowing skirts, scarf tied around her dark hair stepped out of the shadowy doorway. She grinned and waved them over.

"Just ignore her Rachel, keep walking," Kurt muttered, pulling at Rachel's wrist.
But Rachel wouldn't budge, face alight with excitement as she looked at the woman across the road. "Oh, come on, Kurt! I've never done anything like this before, it might be kind of fun."

"Seriously? They're all just hacks who tell you whatever they think you want to hear. And I'm tired and we still have a long subway ride."

"Be adventurous, Kurt! What's the harm?" Kurt sighed. Rachel was wearing her determined face, and he knew there was no convincing her otherwise when she looked like that.

"Fine. I'll go with you, but only to make sure you don't get kidnapped, or something. I'm not wasting my money on that woman."

They darted across the street, and the woman's smile grew wider as they approached. Kurt was hit with a wave of strong perfume as they followed her through the door and into the small, dimly lit room.

"Have a seat," the psychic gestured to two chairs on one side of a small round table, while she settled herself on the cushioned stool opposite them. "My name is Madam Elaine. What type of psychic experience would you like today, dears?"
Kurt could barely keep himself from rolling his eyes, but Rachel was already leaning forward eagerly.

"We've never done this before, so what would you suggest, Madam?" she asked, bouncing a little in her seat.

"Well, for you, my lovely, why not a palm reading? A nice glimpse into your future seems like just the thing for a bright young girl like yourself."

"Perfect!" Rachel exclaimed, quickly extending her hands to the woman.

"That will be twenty dollars, my dear," Madam instructed.

"Oh, of course!" Rachel reached for her purse which she'd draped on the back on the chair. She grinned at Kurt, eyes bright, but he just shook his head and tightly crossed his arms over his chest in return.

"Ah, a skeptic," Madam mused as she watched Kurt, quickly pocketing the bill Rachel handed to her. "Maybe my insight into your friend's future will convince you?"

"Doubtful," he muttered.

Madam smirked as she gently took Rachel's hand in her own and studied her palm. "Let me see, my dear... You seem to possess a great deal of creativity. And, hmmm, let me see," she murmured while twisting Rachel's hand this way and that, studying the lines the crisscrossed her palm, "I see struggle in your future, but also a great deal of success."

Rachel could barely contain her excitement as she looked over to Kurt. "What do I always tell you, Kurt? We have to struggle for our art, but it'll pay off in the end." She refocused on Madam and asked, "Can you tell anything about, say, the level of success I'll achieve? I mean, will I reach Patti Lupone heights of legendary stardom, or just be one of the working actresses of Broadway who never has a break-out role?"

"Fame and fortune are definitely in your future, dear. Your life's story has been written across your palm, and it is clear that great things are in store for you. Have you struggled with love in the past?"

"Yes, very much so. It's been so hard to balance my love life with my craft and I know it's caused problems with my relationships. Well, that and male prostitution."

Kurt noticed a slight furrowing of Madam's eyebrows at Rachel's last remark, but she continued on seamlessly. "Well, expect a few more struggles, my dear, but love will eventually be here to stay. Persevere in both love and art, and you are sure to live a life that most only dream about."

Rachel beamed as she withdrew her hand from Madam's grasp. The psychic turned to Kurt. "And you, my dear? Wouldn't you like to know the secrets of your future just like your friend, here?"

"Secrets? More like a generic series of platitudes that you think will make a person happy. Let's go, Rach," he replied, standing to leave.

"What if I were to read a tarot card for you? Just one, free of charge, and we'll see if that changes your mind at all."

"Once again, doubtful."

"Please, Kurt? It's fun and harmless and besides, you need to stop acting like such an old man. You just want to go home so you can put on your pajamas and drink tea. Live it up a little!"

Kurt narrowed his eyes at her, but sat back down anyway. Madam retrieved the tarot cards from a shelf behind her and handed them to Kurt to shuffle. He did so, grudgingly, and pushed the cards across the table to her.

"Your card is..." she slowly and dramatically flipped over the top card on the stack, "the Magician! This reveals that you are embarking on a new personal endeavor. It is also a sign of one who is strong-willed, organized, and highly driven. Can you relate to any of those attributes, my dear?"

"Oh my god, Kurt, that's perfect! It sounds exactly like you!"

Madam nodded at Rachel knowingly. "I had a feeling it would change his mind."
"It doesn't change anything!" Kurt replied, exasperated. "You can tell we're somewhat new to the area, hence the new endeavor. And you have to be motivated and driven to make it in this city, even more so in the arts. Your card didn't tell me anything that doesn't describe ninety percent of the people my age in New York." He stood to leave again.

"Tell her about your dreams, Kurt."

He froze. "Why would I want to do that?" he asked icily.

"Because it bothers you that you're having the same dream over and over and you still can't figure out what it means. You don't have to believe that she's a psychic, but maybe she can still help!" She looked over at Madam. "Do you know anything about dream interpretation?"

"Of course. Come, tell me about this dream of yours."But Kurt just glared back at both of them.

Several long seconds passed before Rachel spoke up. "Fine, I'll just tell her myself." She turned to Madam. "He's dreaming about puppets."

"Puppets! How interesting, my magician." She looked over a Kurt with a wink.

"Rachel," Kurt whined. "Ugh, fine." He flopped back down in his chair. "It's basically the same dream, almost every night for the past month or so. I'm a puppet-master, I guess, because I'm holding the strings to this dark-haired marionette." He paused, both women still gazing at him intently. "That's all there is to it, really. It's not exactly a detailed or eventful dream, it just won't go away."

"In dreams, puppets often refer to manipulation. Is there anyone you've felt the need to control lately? Perhaps a friend, classmate... maybe a romantic partner?"
Rachel gasped and poked Kurt in the shoulder, hard. "Oh my god, Kurt, is something going on with Adam? He is such a sweetie, don't you dare think about manipulating or doing anything to hurt him!"

"Geez, way to jump to conclusions. Adam and I are just fine, thank you very much. And besides, the puppet has dark hair. Maybe it's you I'm trying to control, what with your apparent inability to just wash the dishes instead of letting them stack up in the sink!"

"That is Santana doing that, and you know it, Kurt!"

"Ahem." The noise distracted them from their argument and they both turned back to face Madam. "My dear, you should know that even if you dream about being the puppeteer, it could still be that you are the one that feels out of control, or manipulated by someone else. Maybe that fits better with your situation, and could explain why this dream is so frequently recurring."

Rachel's jaw dropped. "It's Blaine," she hissed, eyes wide as she turned toward Madam to explain. "It makes perfect sense! His ex-boyfriend—"

"We're leaving. Thank you for your time," Kurt said in a rush, interrupting Rachel to grab her hand and pull her out the door before she could tell his life story to the psychic. Back outside on the sidewalk, Rachel looked like she was about to keep babbling about how the dreams all made sense now, but she faltered when she saw the pained expression on Kurt's face.

They finally found the subway station and rode home in silence. Kurt would be lying if he said he hadn't wondered whether the puppet he dreamed of could be Blaine, but it had always been faceless, and it never made sense to him why he would see Blaine as his puppet, not after the way he had felt like the one who had been played with and tossed aside back in the fall. But when the psychic, even if she was a hack, had mentioned that it could be a sign of feeling out of control, it all started to fall into place.

The marionette may have always been faceless before, but that night Kurt found himself pulled into a dream where the strings in his hands led down to the arms and legs of a little puppet who was clearly and completely Blaine. Kurt woke with a start, feeling shaken. It had never exactly been a secret that he liked control—it meant having things his way, exactly as he wanted them, and he had enjoyed that ever since he was little. Most of his dad's favorite stories of him as a child had featured a very bossy and demanding little Kurt. But there was something so deeply unsettling about this dream. It wasn't just being in control of a situation, it was absolute power. The power to literally move another person to make them bend to his will. And the fact that the person he was so carefully manipulating was Blaine... Kurt took a few deep breaths, tried to clear his mind of the image of Blaine strung up and lifeless like a doll, and rolled over to try to fall back asleep.

Kurt felt better in the morning, the emotional impact of the dream having dulled throughout the course of the night, and decided that all he needed was to have a good conversation with Blaine. Not about the dream, of course, but just to talk. They'd been reconnecting and learning how to be in each other's lives as just friends, and other than what Kurt still privately referred to as the "Valentine's Day Oops," they'd been doing a good job of it. So he'd called Blaine over his morning coffee, and they'd talked and laughed, sharing stories from the past week. Kurt even mentioned Rachel having her palm read, but he cut the story short before any mention of dreams and tarot cards arose. They hung up nearly an hour later, Kurt sure that he'd sleep peacefully that night.
But the dream persisted, just as unsettling as the night before. Yet this time, Kurt noted that the puppet had grown. Instead of just a foot or so tall, it now stood just taller than his knee. He once again woke with a start, tears prickling in the backs of his eyes, as he wondered how he could make these end once and for all.

He tried a different tactic over the next few days. If talking to Blaine only made things worse, he figured ignoring him could make it better. As much as he hated to do it, Kurt resolutely refused any of Blaine's communications over the following days. Texts went unread, calls unanswered, and Kurt logged out of Facebook each time Blaine tried to chat. It left a pit in his stomach, ignoring his friend like that without explaining why he was doing it, but Kurt reasoned with himself that it would be worth it in the end if it stopped the disturbing dreams.
Of course, that was assuming that it worked. It didn't. After four days of radio silence, the dreams were still occurring every night, just as vivid as always. And the puppet had grown again, the marionette version of Blaine now standing at waist height next to Kurt. He dropped his "ignore Blaine" plan and immediately called him, spinning an only slightly untrue story about being swamped with work between school and his internship.

Kurt was left wondering if he'd been focusing on the wrong person. Yes, Blaine was the one in his dream, a dream he had been having presumably because of unresolved feelings between the two of them. But during the day it never felt like he was still hung up on Blaine. He was happy with Adam. Sweet, funny, adorable Adam. The same Adam that, yes, probably started out as his rebound, but who he'd truly grown close to and come to care for, not just out of loneliness or desperation, but because they had a real connection. He wondered if Adam could be the key to stopping the dreams. So Kurt decided to enact a new plan: Spend as Much Time with Adam as Possible.

Kurt quickly decided that he liked this plan much better than his previous one. Instead of feeling guilty for neglecting a friend, he got to throw himself into planning dates, and cooking dinner together, and cuddle time on the couch as they settled in for a movie marathon. He hadn't told Adam about the dreams, even though he knew his boyfriend would be more than willing to listen and offer whatever advice he could. But Kurt felt guilty about how much of their relationship had involved Blaine in some way or another. He knew Adam would deny it, but Kurt always saw the slightest glimmer of pain behind his eyes any time the subject of his ex was brought up, and there was no way he would put him through that over some stupid dream he felt he should be able to handle on his own.

But no matter how many hours they spent together during the day, each night Kurt would kiss Adam goodbye (because, as he'd explained to his ever-patient boyfriend, there was just no way he was ready to take that next step yet) and wake up in the middle of the night dreaming of Blaine. After a week of Adam-saturated days that produced no change in his nightly routine, Kurt was reaching his breaking point. He was fed up and running out of options. So that night he popped an Ambien, which he'd been trying to do as infrequently as possible, and crashed onto his bed, hoping for just one night of dreamless sleep.
The magical little pill did prevent him from waking up during the night, but did nothing else to thwart the now all too familiar dream. He awoke in the morning with the events of the dream still firmly planted in his mind. The marionette had grown again, this time bringing dream-Blaine to his full, life-sized height. And for the first time since the beginning of the dreams, Kurt spoke to him.

"Blaine?"

The puppet slowly raised its head to look at Kurt. He'd known the puppet was Blaine for some time now, but this was the first time he'd gotten a full-frontal, up close view. He sucked in a deep gasp—the puppet's features were a perfect match to Blaine's, but just ever so slightly... wrong looking. Just enough to let Kurt know this was definitely not his Blaine, but some creepy plasticized version of the man. It was just as unnerving as the thin but strong ropes that Kurt held in his hands, the other ends connecting to puppet-Blaine's ankles and wrists.
The puppet grinned, raised his eyebrows, and cocked his head slightly to the side. It was an expression Kurt normally loved, so uniquely and patently Blaine, yet under these circumstances it made his chest tighten unpleasantly.

Kurt didn't know if he really expected a response, but he asked anyway. "Why do I keep dreaming about this?"

Puppet-Blaine's grin faded as he responded, "You know exactly why."

"No, I don't!" Kurt replied indignantly. "I'm over it. Over you. We're just friends now. I forgave you a long time ago and Adam has been nothing short of wonderful to me, so why do I keep dreaming about you like this?"

"Are you sure about that?"

"Which part?"

"All of it."

"Of course I am, Blaine. I forgave you. We're moving on and doing so well, so why do I have this, I don't know... subconscious need to control you like you're a damn puppet?"

Puppet-Blaine shrugged, raising his hands to show off the ropes tethering him to Kurt. "Maybe you still don't completely trust me."

"Blaine..."

"Well, do you? No one, least of all me, would blame you if you didn't."
Kurt sighed. "As a friend, yes, I would trust you with my life. But as more..." he trailed off, looking down at the four ropes in his hands, taking care to keep them completely still so he didn't compel the puppet to move. "No, it shouldn't matter if I can't trust you with my heart, Blaine, because I'm not with you. I don't want to control you," he said firmly, letting the ropes slide from his hands and onto the ground.

Puppet-Blaine stared at the ropes, no longer bound by a controlling force. He looked up at Kurt through his lashes. "Well then, maybe the psychic was right. Maybe you do feel like I'm actually the one controlling you."

The scene suddenly shifted. The puppet standing before him no longer had that unsettling, slightly off look—it was just Blaine, as he'd always known him, standing there. Blaine took a step forward, and without thinking, Kurt reached out towards him. But it felt as though something was holding his hand back, making it difficult to fully extend his arm. He looked down and gasped.

A thin rope was knotted tightly, but not uncomfortably, around his wrist. He raised his other arm and felt a tug at that wrist as well. He tried to step back, but his foot caught on something and he stumbled, quickly falling towards to the ground. But at the last second before impact, something snapped him up upright, feet inches off the ground, before settling him gently back down. He looked across at Blaine, holding the ends of four ropes in his hands. Kurt's eyes traveled down along the ropes all the way back to where they were attached to his wrists and ankles. Fear and adrenaline flooded his system as he realized that he was no longer in control, all of his freedom of motion given over to Blaine, as the master became the puppet.

"Blaine," Kurt whispered, his breathing gone shallow, "How did this happen."

"It's your dream, Kurt. Maybe this is what it should have looked like all along—you feeling manipulated by me."

"But I don't," he said, looking into Blaine's eyes. "Not when I'm awake, at least." Blaine held the ropes loosely, making sure he didn't pull them, so that Kurt could have control of his movement.

Blaine smiled sadly at Kurt. "Then maybe it doesn't really matter who's pulling the strings."

The scene shifted again. Kurt looked down to see the ropes still attached to his limbs, but as he looked over at Blaine, he noticed that he was no longer holding the ends. Instead, they were once again attached to him as well. They looked at each other, realizing that with the handles gone, neither of them was in control, but that they were still attached to each other just the same.

"Maybe it just matters that the strings are here, still holding us together." And with that, Blaine faded out of view as Kurt drifted back into dreamlessness.
He woke slowly the next morning, emerging from the haze of his sleeping pill, but still able to recall every detail of the dream. As intense as the dream had been, it hadn't left him feeling uncomfortable and anxious the way it usually did. In fact, he woke with a sense of, if not peace, at least of surety in what he needed to do next.

Not that it was something he exactly wanted to do. Kurt made himself wait a full twenty four hours after making the decision to finally make his call. Partly to give himself time to really make sure it was the right thing to do, and partly because he was just plain dreading it and needed the extra time to bolster his nerves. And if he wasn't convinced before, he was absolutely sure the next morning, when for the first time in weeks, he woke up feeling refreshed after a completely dream-free sleep.

So that morning he kicked Rachel out for a few hours and dialed Adam's number, saying the words he hated, but that he knew would get the point across as quickly as possible. "Can you come over, Adam? We... I think we need to talk."

After Adam left, Kurt let himself be sad for a while. He cried a little, ate ice cream for lunch, and put on a cheesy movie. He knew breaking up with him was the right thing to do, but it didn't make hurting Adam, or himself, any easier. He hoped they could go back to being friends one day, but for now he knew they needed some time apart, and that was what hurt as much as anything else—loosing, though hopefully only temporarily, a true friend that he knew he could count on.

Kurt waited another full week before deciding to call Blaine. It probably wasn't enough time; he knew under any other circumstance it would look like a massive rebound from his break-up with Adam, but he wondered if it really counted as a rebound when he was going back to the person he'd originally rebounded from? It hurt his head to think about, so he shoved aside all thoughts about what one conventionally 'should' or 'shouldn't' do and just focused on the task ahead.

It was strangely nerve-wracking, calling his best friend turned boyfriend turned ex turned friend again. He lost his courage twice before thinking back to what had started this all—the night at the psychic's. He was The Magician, he reminded himself, the card representing new journeys (though a preliminary Google search had told him it applied more to personal endeavors than relationships. He chose to ignore that). It pained him a little that that hack of a "psychic" had ultimately sort of been right. He groaned inwardly as he thought about paying her another visit. He didn't want to see the triumphant look on Madam Elaine's face as he walked back through her door, but he figured it would only be polite to actually pay her for a reading this time, since her previous advice had been both free and surprisingly helpful. But on second thought, Kurt decided he'd wait until after this phone call, to make sure things actually went as planned, before subjecting himself to Madam again.

Kurt's finger hovered over Blaine's name on his phone-- he steeled his nerves one last time before pressing call.

He smiled at Blaine's chirpy greeting of, "Hey Kurt, what's up!"

"I'm ready," he replied simply.

"That's great! But, uh, what're you ready for? Do you have a performance or something coming up at NYADA that you haven't told me about?"

"No, Blaine. Us." He was met with complete silence on the other end of the line. His heart was already trying to pound its way out of his chest, and the longer the stretch of quiet lasted, the more anxious he became. He was about to take it all back, or hang up, or make a joke, or something when Blaine finally answered.

"Are... are you sure Kurt?" He asked quietly, his voice earnest. "You know how I feel but I want you to be completely sure. We can't go through... that... again."

Kurt took a deep breath. He wasn't quite ready to tell Blaine about the dreams, at least not in detail, but he could tell him what they'd helped him learn. "I realize now that I never really let go of you, Blaine. As much as I wanted to, I could never quite drop these... strings or whatever they are that I feel are holding us together. And as much as you hurt me," he could hear Blaine's sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, and could practically see him wincing at the true but painful words, "I know you never let go of me either. So yes, I'm ready."

"I don't even know what to say, Kurt," Blaine's words were so soft and breathy Kurt had to press his phone to his hear just to hear them. In the background, he could hear Blaine sit down on the corner of his bed, that one corner that was weirdly squeaky (A fact they'd come to realize the hard way— the last Cooper had visited he'd ended up banging on the adjoining wall late into the night, yelling at them to use more oil if their threesome with the Tin Man was going to be that loud).

Kurt let the quiet wash over them. Earlier in the conversation Blaine's silence had seemed like a rejection, but now that he knew both of them were ready and willing to make this work again, it felt peaceful and relaxed. "Well, you could start by asking me when you get to see me again."

Blaine's resulting giggle made Kurt's heart leap. It was one thing to laugh and exchange stories with a friend, but quite another to make someone that joyful just from the idea of seeing them. "Okay, I'll bite. When do I get to see you again?"

"This weekend. Flight's already booked." Kurt paused, wishing he could see the look on Blaine's face. He had a feeling it was mirroring his own, beaming smile.

"Oh, and Blaine? You better come to New York next year, because I have the best Halloween costume idea for us."

"Oh, really? What is it?"

"What do you think about Marionette and Puppeteer?"

"Sounds... sorta kinky, actually. But in a really awesome way?"

"I knew you'd say that."