If someone were to ask Blaine what his most prized possession is, he wouldn't say the Fender Acoustic that had once belonged to his grandfather and was given to him on his eighth birthday, the Steinway Baby Grand he bought for himself with his own money, his full ride scholarship to Julliard, or the numerous awards he's earned throughout his life.

He would say - with a wistful smile and tears shimmering in his eyes – it's his heart.

And that might seem like an unusual answer if the person asking didn't know the heart beating inside Blaine's chest didn't originally belong to him, but to a person who was kind and generous enough to ensure that their healthy organs went to strangers in need after they were gone.

A kind and generous person whom, initially, Blaine never knew.

But now that Blaine knows, he almost can't bring himself to place his hand over his chest and feel his precious heart beating. It's too much for him to process, too sacred for him to comprehend.

He feels it regardless, thump-thump-thumping in his chest.

One of the wonderful things about his strong new heart is that it refuses to be ignored.

Whatever bizarre twist of fate thought it necessary to saddle Blaine with an incorrectly diagnosed and aggressive form of congenital heart disease at the age of twenty-six went a crueler step further in its attempt to remedy it for him.

For the life of him, Blaine may never know what he did right to deserve the second chance he got, especially the way he got it. When he woke from surgery to feel his donor heart beating in his chest, he wasn't particularly concerned with who he got it from. He would have been devastated to find out that his heart came from a teenager who hadn't gotten the opportunity to live life to the fullest, so he made it a point not to know. But again, fate decided, around nine months to the date of his surgery later, that it was imperative that he do know.

Waiting in his living room for the adult son of his heart donor to appear, Blaine can't find the motivation to do a single other thing than sit on his sofa and listen for the doorbell. He looks for the thousandth time at the notice of consent in his hands - a copy of the form he'd signed, giving the hospital permission to forward his name and contact information to the family of the deceased donor, with the name of the person who should be arriving at his door any moment on top.

Kurt Hummel.

***

The last nine months have been hell on earth for Kurt and his father.

As morbid as it sounds, with all of Burt's health issues, everyone in their family was prepared for him to go first.

Not Elizabeth.

Not track star Elizabeth Hummel, who participated in every charity 5k run/walk in Ohio.

Not health conscious Elizabeth Hummel, who taught classes on window box gardening and vegetarian cooking at the Lima Rec Center.

Not Elizabeth Hummel with the stellar genes, whose parents and grandparents had all lived well into their nineties with not a trace of diabetes, heart disease, cancer, or anything else to be seen.

Nobody planned for it to happen, so no one was prepared.

Because it wasn't her health that failed her. It was the brakes on her car - an assembly-related factory defect, the first of its kind reported for that make and model.

By the time Kurt and his father arrived at the hospital, the emergency room doctors knew there was no hope for her. But there was still a chance for her tragedy to become hope for someone else.

Eyes.

Lungs.

Skin.

Liver.

Kidneys.

Heart.

All still viable.

Elizabeth Hummel had a signed organ donor card on file, but for some reason, the hospital required the consent of an immediate family member in order to honor it. All it would take was a signature on a piece of paper to change the lives of at least half a dozen other people.

The doctors put a positive spin on it. They claimed her death was one in a million considering the severity of the crash. Instead of dying instantly, she'd been pronounced brain dead, and if they worked quickly, her organs could go to people who desperately needed them – especially her heart, bookmarked for a patient with a clock ticking down, praying for a compatible organ.

Burt didn't want it. He wanted to bury his wife whole, not carved up. But Lizzie had a passion for helping others. It was the way she lived her life. Burt knew this was what she wanted.

His own faulty, broken heart knew that to be true.

It took a team of doctors roughly twenty minutes to harvest her skin and organs. They worked swiftly, efficiently, and when they were through, that was it.

Her life was officially over.

Kurt didn't wonder where his mother's organs had gone. It was the last thought in his mind. When he watched the doctors leave with their coolers, like modern day canopic jars, it never dawned on him to care. In his mind, those coolers were on their separate ways to the far corners of the world. He'd never hear about them again.

The only reason why Kurt found out where his mother's heart had gone was because, after close to a year without her, he wanted to hear it beat one more time.

Kurt pulls up to the house and waits in his Navigator, sits in the driver's seat and stares at the form in his hand – a copy of the request he'd filled out to find his mother's heart, and the name on top of the person he's about to see.

Blaine Anderson.

It takes twenty more minutes of sitting before Kurt can get out of his vehicle. He does it a bit at a time, the way he has to get out of bed most days – first one foot, then the other, a hand on the door, a step, movement by movement until he's out of the SUV and walking towards the front door. He presses the doorbell, but before the last chime, the door opens and there he is.

And he doesn't look like he's aged a day.

“Hey.” Blaine gazes at Kurt with wide eyes and a smile.

“Hello,” Kurt says, but he doesn't have a smile to give.

“Where's your dad?” Blaine scans the walkway behind Kurt to the black SUV that Blaine hasn't seen in years.

“It doesn't have anything to do with you,” Kurt says quickly. That's not where he'd wanted to start, but his thoughts are so disjointed, that's the first thing that comes out of his mouth. “He … he just … can't … yet.”

“I understand,” Blaine says, but he's disappointed. He didn't only miss Kurt the time they've been apart. He missed feeling like part of Kurt's family, and no matter what, Burt always made him feel that way.

So did Elizabeth.

“Do you want to come in?” Blaine moves aside to give Kurt space.

“Thank you.” Kurt takes a step inside. This isn't the house Blaine lived in in high school. This house is new, his own, but it looks very much the same. It feels familiar to Kurt, the way Blaine's old house did – warm and comforting.

Safe.

It feels too much like home.

Blaine sits on the sofa and Kurt follows. Kurt looks at his hands, trying to think of something to say, a way to break the ice, when he catches a glimpse of Blaine's chest. He sees part of a vertical scar, visible through the top two open buttons of his shirt, and Kurt's eyes fill with tears.

“Blaine, I … I don't know how this happened,” he says, words that didn't want to come out now refusing to stop. “How the hell of all people …” He shakes his head, the thoughts swirling inside too vicious to say, things he knows might be true because he feels them but that he'll regret later if he says them out loud. “I'm sorry this happened to you. I'm sorry we didn't stay in touch and that I didn't know. And I wish to God this could make everything okay between us because … because it seems like the kind of thing that should. But it doesn't. I don't forgive you.” Kurt sniffles. “Not yet, and I'm … I'm sorry.”

“I know that.” Blaine holds his hands hard at his sides, quelling the urge to put them around Kurt even as his head falls forward and tears drop to the carpet. “I know. I understand. And me, too, Kurt. I'm so sorry about your mom. I can't even tell you. I … I can't imagine …”

Kurt raises a hand but not his eyes.

“Thank you. I appreciate it. And I know … I know my dad would appreciate it, too.”

Blaine looks at Kurt, but Kurt looks uncomfortable, and that's not what Blaine wanted. Blaine knows why Kurt's there, and it's not for him. He reaches over to the coffee table and picks up the stethoscope his cardiologist gave him. He holds it out to Kurt, beneath his downcast gaze.

“Did … did you want to …?”

Kurt wordlessly taking the silver instrument is Blaine's answer. He puts the earpieces in his ears and Blaine picks up the bell. He unbuttons a few more buttons on his shirt, then catches Kurt's eyes.

“Are you ready?” he asks softly.

Kurt nods.

Blaine places the diaphragm of the stethoscope to his chest and holds his breath, waiting for Kurt's reaction. He's hoping for a smile, a laugh of relief, but Kurt is silent. It seems to take a second for Kurt to grasp what he hears, but when he does, his breathing catches. Tears fill his eyes. His face crumbles, and suddenly, he can't seem to stop crying.

“Oh, Kurt,” Blaine sighs.

Kurt falls against the couch, unable to sit upright. Pain-riddled blue eyes stare at Blaine's chest, at that horrid scar. He yanks the earpieces out of his ears and puts his ear against it. Being this close to his mother's heart, feeling it move Blaine's chest, is so much more than he'd hoped for.

But it's tearing him apart.

“It's alright,” Blaine says, caught between wanting to hold Kurt and wanting to give him time to grieve. Blaine isn't expecting anything from him. By all accounts, Kurt and his family have given Blaine more than his fair share.

They've given him a lifetime.

“I … I can feel it!” Kurt sobs, his head pressing harder against Blaine's chest. “Oh, God! B-but … she's gone! She's gone, and this is all I have left!” His voice fails him, the words choking him. Tears from Kurt's cheek trail down Blaine's scar, and with each one, Blaine wishes he could do more for Kurt than this.

“That's not all, Kurt.” Tears start in Blaine's eyes, slipping down his cheeks with him fighting hard to keep them quiet. “She loved you. She'll always be with you. You can come over here and listen to her heart whenever you want, whenever you need. And I promise … I'll take good care of her for you.”