Hello everyone,

It's my first time to write a glee fanfic. I'm a big fan of the show, but never felt confident enough to write something like this. So I just want to clarify some things.

I'm not a serious shipper. I'm not team Klain or Kurtofsky specifically. I love Kurt and as long as he's happy I've got no problem. So please no hating on the pairing. If you want to criticize, criticize my writing not the pairing.

This story is a Kurtfosky story cause I love my love with a little angst and Dave Karofsky is full of that. This takes place after "Furt". Kurt goes to Dalton and Dave goes back to school and no one knows about their whole locker room incident.

I was inspired by the movie "The Time Traveler's Wife" and thought what would happen is Karofsky was a time traveller and future Dave comes to help young messed up Karofsky grow into better man with the help of Kurt.

Speaking of Klaine, as much as I love Darren Criss/Blaine I don't see him in this story. I kinda gave his part of being Kurt's mentor/confidant to future Dave. As the story progresses I'll try to find a place for Blaine but right now I don't know how (suggestions would be helpful.)

So, here it goes... enjoy

'It's cold out tonight.' The jock thought. Even if he was sitting on his trucks' hood still warm from the hour drive here, he could still feel the chill in the air. Or maybe it was just him; after all he wasn't enveloped in the reassuring warmth of his letterman jacket. He didn't want to be found wearing it. He didn't want to drag anyone down by association, much less his high school. Sure it wasn't the best of schools, but William McKinley High Schools' name didn't need to be tainted with teen suicide.

No, this wasn't about his school or the people in it. This wasn't about his family or his friends. This surely wasn't about some slim, brunette and green eyed young man name Kurt Hummel... This was about him. This was all on him. No one else to blame but himself... Dave Karofsky.

He climbed off the hood and walked to the railings of the bridge. Bernthart bridge was a Lima's latest addition to its transportation system, well about to be seeing as its only half done. It was suppose to connect the east and west sides of Briggs river. Too many 'B' names, he thought, he briefly remembered one of them was a name of a governor from Lima. He wasn't sure which one. Didn't matter though, what matters is that due to some union dispute it was left unfinished and unguarded for the last six months and that's where he's been going. Whenever he felt like he needed to be alone he's been driving up here. He's been doing it every night since his expulsion and even until now that he's back.

It was nearly midnight. The moon was high and there were only a couple of clouds that swirled about in the sky, not completely hindering his point of view of the stars. 'Swirl' that's a faggy word, unless of course one turns it into a 'swirley' he thought to himself with a chuckle remembering the first swirley he actually gave.

He and Azimio had this little shrimpy kid by the neck and pushed his head down the third stall toilet in the 2nd floor. He and Azimio were in freshmen then, but the seniors took them as new meat seeing as they looked too big to be freshmen. It was only the first week of school and his place was already made.

"That's it boys," Tyler Jacobs or TJ, the biggest (therefore the leader) of the seniors said with a sneer as he watched he and Azimio did the deed. "Get his little faggy head down there."

That was the first time he encountered the term. He's heard of the word homosexual before. His parents often used it to describe anyone they felt was bad influence in society. He heard that same disgust in TJ's voice but he said it more tauntingly as if to humiliate the scrawny kid even more. And it worked, not only to the kid but to Dave.

That's when he realized what he was to be and what he couldn't be. He was a jock not a nerd, a knucklehead not an artist, a bully not a fag.

"FUCK, WHY'D I HAVE TO BE A FAG?" he muttered angrily hitting the cement railing with his fists.

"FUCK!" Regretting immediately, seeing as cement is so much harder than the red metal lockers they had at McKinley.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself you dipshit!" a voice that wasn't his own yelled.

Dave quickly forgot about the pain in his hands to turn to the direction of where the voice came from. It seemed to have come from behind his truck.

"Who said that?" he yelled out with more fear in his voice to actually strike fear to whomever he was speaking to (which was his original intention).

But why would he be afraid? He was Dave 'The Fury' Karofsky a powerhouse on both the field and on the ice and anywhere else he felt the fight in him. Whoever it was back there, he could take them no problem. So why the fear? Same reason why'd he be afraid by the slim porcelain boy that is Kurt Hummel. Whoever it was could have heard him, could know his secret.

"Don't worry kid," the voice replied and Dave actually stopped worrying and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "I mean, I know your secret," Dave panicked "...but not in the way you're so worried about." Now Dave was confused.

'What the hell did that mean?' he asked himself, forgetting for a minute that he was speaking merely to a voice. A voice, though still without a face and body, he could easily pin to a man which he was familiar with, well at least his voice. 'But who?'

Creek... his truck shook a little. It moved in a way that indicated someone was in the back of it, the voice.

"Keep away from my truck!" the high school jock yelled, stepping closer to his vehicle. Reassured that if worse comes to worse nothing of value would be stolen, he had his wallet and his cell phone in his pocket along with the car keys. As if they were any good, Dave properly filled the tank just enough for him to get here, leaving him stranded on the deserted bridge. He didn't want to chicken out. He needed to do this. He needed to do this...

"Relax!" the voice replied as if reading the young man's mind as he continued to rummage in the back of the truck "Everything'll be alright. I ain't here to hurt you." Though it was an earlier fear, Dave now kinda wished the man would hurt him so that he wouldn't have to hurt himself. "...and I ain't letting you hurt yourself."

'What the? How did he?' It was like he knew what Dave was thinking.

"Listen!" Dave called out making tentative steps closer to his truck. "I don't know who the fuck you are bu.."

"Actually," the voice cuts him off and the shift of weight in the back of the truck suddenly lessens and goes back to normal. The owner of the voice just jumped off the truck bed and was walking around it, finally giving the jock a chance to see who he's actually been talking to for the last 10 minutes.

The truck was about 10 feet away from him, in the middle of the abandoned bridge. No roof. No shadows. A totally unobstructed view of this mystery guy... and Dave still couldn't believe what he saw.

He was about 6'0 tall with a big stocky frame. He had brown eyes and brown hair with a bit of gray. A full face cause of the wide jaw but his cheeks were a little sunken. But none of that was what really caught the younger man's attention. It was the fact that this mystery guy was naked... Well not totally, the older gentleman covered his body from shoulder to shin with a thick dark blue gray blanket; one that Dave recognized was the one he kept in the back of his truck. Why? He wasn't sure. He can't even remember who put it there. Step by step the man walked towards Dave closer and closer.

That's when it hit Dave. He suddenly felt a sense of familiarity. This guy looked like someone, someone Dave knew very well but wasn't sure of. Finally when the older man got in front of Dave, that's when he realized it.

"You know me pretty well kid."

It was him.

It was Dave Karofsky.