BLAINES POV

"God... Another murder. I'm really sorry babe, I gotta go." I kissed Antoine on the head, and left the fancy café to save the world again. Being a policeman was tough, but it had it's perks. I loved a mystery, even though I desperately wished that these things wouldn't happen to people, whether they be innocent or not: no one deserved to die, to have this beautiful life cut short.

Antoine is... my épouse. Husband, if you wish. We met in Paris, where I fled after the messy break up with Kurt. I just couldn't stare at that face everyday, knowing it wasn't mine. Antoine is nice, and he's pretty good looking, but I was settling and I knew it. Somewhere deep down, of course. I would never show my true emotions, it was ungentlemanly.

I climbed into the police car and raced to the scene of the crime, as traffic came to a crawl. Unfortunately, this happened every time a police car had it's sirens on. Atleast people were smart enough to move out of the way, most of the time. I idly hoped not to work with that dreadful woman again. The worse private investigator I've ever met, Rose Selart. I was almost at the scene, parked the car and went to get out, only to be held back. Right. Seat belt. I clicked the release and blushed a little at my stupidity. I whispered to myself: "I guess my mind's somewhere else."
"Well I sure hope not."
I turned to see the head of the police, watching me.
"Ah, yes sir. Sorry sir."
"It's James, come on, we have no time to waste on pleasantries."
We walked towards the entrance as James filled me in. He was a balding, short pudgy old man, but he was wise. There was something about him that was so cordial, yet warm. Kind of like myself, minus the sense of humor.
"The crime took place at the orphanage. The director is dead, and we've found fingerprints of a couple that were found in the seats across."
I scribbled furiously on my notepad.
"A knife is yet to be found, but it seems the director's been stabbed repeatedly, right in the heart."
Kind of like I felt in this next moment.
"I'd like you to meet our head Private Investigator, Mr. Hummel."
I looked up from my chicken scratch.
Shocked.
My heart beat louder than a gun shot.
He reached his hand out to shake mine, and I took it, taking that silly look off my face.
"I believe we've met before Mr. Anderson."
"Actually Mr. Hummel, it's Mr. Dubois. Blaine here got himself hitched just last week."
James slapped my back and I felt my heart drop to my feet.
"That's lovely." Kurt smiled, but I swear I saw the blue in his eyes drain, along with the smile from his face.
"Well, I'll leave you two to it. I've got an intern to teach."
James walked away and I shuffled nervously, looking down at the floor.
"What's his name, Blaine?"
I felt so disgusted with myself.
"Antoine. I..."
I tried to think of an excuse, and none came.
"You? What? Are you sorry?"
I sighed loudly and looked at him, exasperated.
"Whatever. Let's get this over with."
Kurt power walked forwards, slipping gloves onto his hands with ease, as I struggled with mine.
We headed towards the room.
In this line of work, of course I'd seen millions of dead bodies, but the view itself, was always something I'd never get used to. The poor orphanage director's chest looked like a tossed salad.
The suspects, married, have been identified as Logan and Carielle Champs. They live a block away and have a small child here, named Gabby. They wanted her back, but she had just been set up for adoption earlier today. I suppose the parents heard about it and came to get her back, for some reason."
He crossed his arms and sighed, looking back at the scene.
"We can assume that the discussion didn't end well."

"Ms. Maccafity!"
A small child with ringlets tied up carelessly into ponytails had run into the office. We couldn't move fast enough, and the scream that followed, was piercing. She dropped the Teddy bear she was carrying, and sprinted out the back door.

I had no clue what to do. I had to talk to her, she had probably broken from the line of children outside. The poor thing was going to be scarred for life.

"Shame." Kurt muttered, returning to his diagnostics of the scene.
"SHAME? SHAME, KURT?" I was furious. What was this? This cold feeling I got when I looked into his eyes?
He sighed and turned towards me.
"There's nothing we can do about it, Blaine. Let James deal with her."
and calmly returned to his work.
I glared at him, repulsed by his insensitivity, grabbed the torn up bear from the floor and ran out into the backyard, appalled by his actions.
What happened to Kurt that had made him so heartless?

"Lord lord mother we're all losing love,
Lord lord lover we're all missing mama."

-

I ran to the porch, approaching the weeping child curled up on the lawn.
I put my hand on the railing, racing down the stops gingerly. I had to remind myself that this wasn't a fire, it was murder. It seemed the house was just as broken as if a flame had roared through.

I slowed down when I came to the grass, covered in dew, and approached the girl. She had to be only six years old. "Honey?" I touched her shoulder and she twitched violently. "NO!"
I held back tears of my own, and kneeled down behind her.
I approached a bit, and thought of how to approach this. Children were so delicate.
"I think Mr. Teddy Bear here is a little upset." cradling the stuffed animal in my arms, petting it.
I felt a little foolish, but I had to try.
Her weeping became sniffles, and she moved her head to the right, following my voice.
"His name is Thomas."
"Thomas, eh? He looks quite lovely. Almost as lovely as his mother."
She giggled, and turned towards me to take the bear from my hands. With me sitting on my knees and her standing, we were about the same height.
"He's got pneumonia. He's going to die soon." she smiled and danced with the bear. God, this was tough.

"Hun, do you understand what you saw in that room?"
She stopped and slumped down to sit beside me.
"Yes, mommy told me. She told me Ms. Maccafity had to go. I only went in to say goodbye to her."
"Your mother told you this?"
"Of course! Mommy knows everything."
"What's your name?"
"Gabby."

Oh.

"If you're done playing daycare, we have work to do."
Kurt stood on the porch, hand on his hips, obviously terribly detained by this girl's trauma.

"You stay right here, alright gabby?"
"Okay police man."
I hugged her. I felt so bad.
"My name's Blaine, and you can trust me, okay?"
"Okay Blaine."
She continued to dance around with Thomas, as if nothing had happened. As if this had all been planned. Because it had.

I walked angrily towards Kurt, still furious by his chilly demeanor, but I slowed a bit when I saw James appear from behind. No, he wouldn't fire me. I'm doing the right thing. I got the answers.

"Mr. Dubois..." I shuddered at that name. I didn't want to remember my fantasy life right now. "I understand your concern for the child..."

I boldly interrupted. "James, she knows. She knew Ms. Maccafity was going to leave." I used airquotes on that last word. "She said her mother told her. Who just happens to be one of the suspects."
"Are you positive about this, Mr. Dubois?"
"Yes. And please, call me Blaine."
Kurt looked at me, confused by my obvious dislike of the use of my new, French last name, and I tried to ignore him.
James approached the young girl with a pad and paper in his hand, and Kurt followed, til I grabbed his arm.
He froze, and I spoke quietly, knowing I had his complete attention.
"I don't know what happened to you, I don't know what turned you into this sheet of ice that stands before me, but dear god, you will not be rude to that darling little girl. Do you understand me?"
He looked me in the eyes, calmly. Understanding.
"Crystal clear."
And he took my hand. Electricity took over my whole body, and I was certain I'd have to climb into that ambulance myself.
He slowly let go as he walked towards the young girl, and I stood there. Frozen.
What was THAT?
I relaxed my hand, still buzzing from the energy and return to the problem at hand.
I went over to Gabby, and took her hand, supporting her in her decision to tell the police about her parent's crime. Kurt looked at me reminiscently. And though we were new people, though it's been near 15 years, I can't help but look back at him.

Somewhere in that small café, Antoine Dubois is sitting down across from a new gentleman. An Abercrombie model.
"So, Antoine. Though I wouldn't be surprised if you were, I can't help but hope that such a young charming man such as yourself is single."
Antoine slipped off his ring, and put it into his pocket.

"Of course I am."