There wasn't a day that went by that Blaine didn't think about Kurt. Even after ten years, the feeling was still there. It wasn't like before, though. Now, it had just become more of a numb thought rather than one that stung any memories. But it was a thought nonetheless.

The thought's struck particularly hard on the day Blaine was transferred to New York for a spot in the paper at the New York times – a job his boss had recommended for him. He settled into his small apartment on the 13th floor of the apartment building. It wasn't a homely feeling, not like the one he got back at his apartment in Lima. It was big and uninviting, and it struck a sense of loneliness in Blaine that he hadn't actually felt in a long time.

He let out a small sigh and fell onto the couch, flicking on the TV. He didn't intend to watch it, he just needed the noise, but his attention was immediately drawn to the screen as he heard a familiar name – Kurt Hummel – followed by the words was found dead on the corner of 14th Street and 10th Avenue with multiple bruises along his back and a gunshot wound to his head.

Blaine could feel his stomach tighten almost immediately. "No." He whimpered, grabbing his phone and searching through his contacts until he found the name of the only person he knew to call at the time.

At the other end of New York, Rachel was practicing a routine for her Broadway debut when her phone rang. She huffed as it broke her concentration, causing her to trip before reaching over the counter to answer.

"Hello?"

"Rachel?" Blaine's voice panged through the speaker with worry, and it troubled Rachel. Partly because Blaine hadn't talked to her in years, and partly because of the tone of urgency he carried.

"Yeah, it's me. May I ask why you're calling?"

Rachel could hear Blaine force back a whine as he paused before responding.

"Have you been watching the news?"

"Uh uh," She spoke quickly. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Ku-" He spoke, getting choked up by a lump in his throat. "Kurt's.. He's been.. He's been shot."

Blaine went on to tell Rachel about how he had just gotten in and turned on the TV, explaining everything they had said and the small details before she shut him up and told him to come over. He tugged his jacket on and ran outside, shivering as the cool air hit him. He rushed down the streets as he was getting more and more anxious to just be there already when he ran into (no, literally ran into) a strange man with a bowtie.

"Hello!" The man said, grabbing Blaine's wrist and tugging him in the direction opposite Blaine was moving. "Sorry to meet you like this, but run!"

Blaine tried tugging his wrist back, but with no avail. He followed the man three blocks down where they stopped in front of a blue police box that looked vaguely familiar. "Would you mind telling me what the hellyou're doing?" Blaine yelled, looking behind him.

The man fiddled with a device in his hands before pushing the door to the box open, and walking inside – sticking his head back out almost immediately. "No time to explain, just get in!"

Blaine shook his head and started off in the opposite direction. "I am not getting in that box with you. I don't even know who you are! I'm supposed to be at a friends house right-"

"That boxis my TARDIS, I'mthe Doctor, and I'm assumingyou mean Rachel Berry, based off of the direction you were heading – seeing as no one else lives that directi-"

Blaine snapped his head back and turned back around, taking a step back to the Doctor. "How do you know Rachel?"

The man took a step out of the box and looked around. "She traveled with me for awhile," He began. "And now, I'm terribly sorry to inform you, there is a high probability she's dead. And you will be, too, if you don't come with me now."

"What is that supposed to mean?!" Blaine cried out, lifting an eyebrow. The Doctor took a step twords him and gripped his wrist tightly once again, tugging him into the TARDIS and locking the door. Blaine shoved his hands on the door, trying to get it to move. After a minute of vain attempts, he turned around and his breath hitched at the sight.

"It- It's b-"

"Yes, yes, it's bigger on the inside. Now grab onto something, it's going to be a bumpy ride! Geronimo!"