Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I wasn't allowed because I got a story taken down for not having a G rated summary. It had the word 'shit' in it. Oops! So if anyone is looking for my fic 'En Garde', I'll repost it later. :)

I don't own glee.

~0~

Sebastian lets out a growl of frustration and kicks a nearby bush. "What the hell are we supposed to do now?"

Kurt rolls his eyes and places his hands on his hips. He look on his face reminds Sebastian of getting a scolding from the goddamn nanny. Sebastian has the urge to punch him, right in the face where he's got that nasty discoloured lump, just to hear his shout of pain. He's such a know-it-all, prudish little ass.

"Calm down," he says in that snooty way of his. "We'll figure something out." He steps out further into the sunshine, though it's obvious that it pains him to do so. His eyes are squinted and he's holding and hand over his forehead to try and shield them. "The van left tracks. How long do you think the distance is from the main road?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know!"

"Well, you were the one who was conscious on the drive in! Estimate! I'm not asking for exact numbers here!"

"I don't know. Maybe ten or fifteen minutes after we turned off the main road. But he had to go pretty slow. Good enough?"

Kurt sniffs and turns away, one hip struck out like he's just reached the end of the catwalk and is about to make his turn and head back up. Sebastian shakes his head. "Let's get into the trees and follow the tracks at a safe distance," he says.

"Fine," Sebastian agrees. It's better than doing nothing.

Kurt looks both ways like a kid crossing the street before grabbing Sebastian's arm and pulling him across the flattened ground and van tracks and into a thick copse of trees.

Sebastian shakes his arm out of Kurt's grasp. "I can manage on my own, thanks. I don't need to be led around like a puppy."

"Well I apologize. I was just trying to –"

"Be a bossy little control freak?"

Kurt's face looks pinched when he turns away. "I feel a bit woozy still and I didn't want to fall on my face, okay?"

And Sebastian doesn't quite know what to say to that... Kurt's eyes look far-away and the lump on his face is changing colour at an alarming rate. How the hell are they going to get away when he's already so messed up? Sebastian should leave him and take off himself, he thinks."Well next time warn me first before you use me as a human crutch," is what he says. Sebastian often wonders if living in the Midwest is causing him to go soft.

"Fine." Kurt does his annoying little sniffing thing and peeks out from between the trees. "The tracks go out that way. We should –"

Sebastian is watching Kurt so intently that he is confused when his eyes widen and he steps back and directly onto Sebastian's foot. "Watch the fuck out!"

Kurt claps a hand over his mouth. "They're back!" he whispers, and Sebastian finally notices it – the glint of the sun off the van as it thunders in their direction.

"Shit!" And Kurt is grabbing Sebastian once more and pulling him further into the trees. Sebastian doesn't bother to shake him off, just grips his sleeve and flies along next to him, hoping they aren't making enough commotion that the men spot them booking it through the woods.

The farther away they get, the more laboured Kurt's breathing becomes. Sebastian watches him, his eyes are flicking back and forth as he drags him around at a stumble. Sebastian knows he won't be able to go far, not at their current pace. Kurt looks about ready to collapse and there is no way Sebastian is carrying his prissy ass to safety, even if he did just free him from those ropes. "Hide," he says. "We've got to hide."

Kurt ignores him and keeps running forward, dodging around trees. "Kurt!"

"No." Kurt is shaking his head. "We need to get as far away as we can before –" He trips over a root and stumbles forward. Sebastian catches him by the arm and looks down... and it isn't a root. It isn't any part of tree. At least not anymore, though the surrounding poplars seem to be trying their damnedest to take it back.

The thing is enormous: the wooden rails and ties of the track sloping upwards and down into the mossy ground below. The wood is bleached almost white and it's rotting – slowly being devoured by the forest floor. "It's a roller coaster," Sebastian announces stupidly.

"Dammit," Kurt says. "We'll have to go around." He tugs at Sebastian's arm and motions him away. It must be the concussion, Sebastian thinks. How could anyone have such a non-reaction to finding a rotting roller coaster in the middle of nowhere?

And the roller coaster isn't the only thing. Just as Kurt's swaying gait begins to necessitate stopping to rest, they come across an old carousel. It's resting at a wonky angle, the few remaining horses leaning forward, skeletal bodies and bugged out eyes and grinning teeth – rusted and sinister.

Sebastian does not want to stop here. He pushes Kurt down by the shoulder. "You need to rest."

Kurt fights him, of course, glancing behind them and panting for breath. "Not out in the open like this," he rasps. "If we're going to stop we need to be hidden."

"Right." Sebastian walks halfway around the carousel, the embossed faces of the cherubs and Pegasus watching him with vacant eyes and demurely smiling mouths. They're creeping him the fuck out and if Kurt could manage it, he would keep going and get as far away as humanly possible. But Kurt can't manage it. There is no way.

On the ground he spots two broken bench seats next to one of the top panels of the carousel which has detached and fallen, imbedding itself in the earth. They will be sheltered from prying eyes here yet still able to see if anyone is coming; it's a perfect place to hide. At least for however long it takes for Kurt to catch his breath.

"They'll have realized by now," Kurt says once they're huddled in between the benches and the metal panel. "That we're gone."

Kurt's watery eyes keep falling closed. He blinks them back open with great effort and shakes his head. Wiping at his tears, he stifles a yawn and blinks again, slow and... another shake of his head. Sebastian can't let him pass out.

"This place is creepy," he says. It's the first thing that pops into his mind. It must be the way the round-faced baby demon is staring out at him through fifty years worth of dirt and rust and still managing to look smug. It's cheeks are pink and its chubby little finger pointing forward directly at him.

He tears his eyes away from its soulless gaze when he hears Kurt's amused snort. "It's just an old amusement park. I remember my grandfather mentioning it when I was a kid. Closed down in the '60s, I think."

"Did he happen to mention that your family owned and operated the place? Because these evil little cherubs are the spitting image of you."

"Hilarious. But no – unlike you, neither my family nor I have ever been in the amusement business. I do know, however, approximately where it was located, so I might possibly be able to get us back to Lima if we make our way to a road. But of course our easiest route is now out since those morons are back and will surely be searching for us."

"Or maybe they'll cut and run if they think we've gotten away and they're about to be caught."

Kurt raises an eyebrow and cocks his head to one side. "Did either of them seem all that intelligent to you? Hmm? I think they'll be more pissed off that a couple of queers managed to escape them. They won't give up on 'teaching us a lesson'. We need to keep going."

"Give it a few minutes. It won't do us any good if you're keeling over. If you're going to be the navigator you need to keep your head or we'll just end up going around in circles. And I don't want to end up back at that tunnel." Sebastian starts, catching movement out of the corner of his eye. It's only a shadow – the leaves of a tree fluttering above and dancing across the tin painting over his shoulder. He takes a deep breath. "Or back here, for that matter," he adds. "Laugh at me if you want, but these old paintings are creepy as fuck."

Kurt smiles. "When I was a kid my mother used to read to me from this musty old tome – I think it was her grandmother's – and the illustrations looked just like this." He turns and studies the panel, running a finger over the horses and twisted banners and angels. His finger comes back dirty and he wipes it off on the grass absentmindedly. "She would do all of the voices and usually she'd end up completely deviating from the source material. But the stories she made up were always better anyway."

"When I was a kid, my mother would sit on the edge of my bed, blind stinking drunk, and tell me all about how she only had me to keep my father from divorcing her and was shipping me off to a boarding school as soon as the nanny got sick of my sass. And then it turned out I was gay, so my father ended up regretting me every bit as much as my mother did. The nanny, however, still loves me to this day."

Sebastian snaps his mouth shut and stares at his fingers fiddling with a brittle white flower. Just his luck, the damn thing is probably poisonous and he'll end up with a rash all over his hands. He's just about to ask Kurt what it is, since he's the resident expert, when he speaks up, his voice quiet. "I... I'm so sorry."

Sebastian shrugs and gives him a wide smile that makes his cheeks ache. "Don't be. I'm fine. Who needs a mother anyway? Yours is dead and you're... halfway normal. You don't need one either. Except maybe to shop for the perfect pair of lavender pumps or whatever it is you do in your spare time."

"Well, I've got a stepmom. Carole. She's amazing..."

Sebastian rolls his eyes. "Right. Because of course you scored twice over in the mom department. And you've got a supportive father. And a cute, devoted boyfriend. Hell, your come probably tastes like Skittles and the sun probably literally shines out of your ass when you bend over."

Kurt quirks an eyebrow and purses his lips. "Skittles, really? At least make it something good... crème brûlée or tiramisu."

"Your come tastes like crème brûlée?"

"Well I have no idea. You'll have to ask Blaine when we get back to Lima."

Sebastian laughs. "I'm definitely going to – if only to see the look on his face. But speaking of food..."

Kurt pulls a face. "Well, come might be food to you, but –"

Sebastian's stomach gives a low growl at the mere mention of something to eat. "Funny. Didn't you pick up what they left for us?"

"Maybe."

"Give it here." Sebastian holds out a hand, wiggling his fingers. With a roll of his eyes, Kurt reaches into the impossibly tight pockets of his jeans and pulls out several packets, leaving Sebastian baffled as to how he even managed to stuff them in there in the first place. He slaps some Milk Duds into the palm of Sebastian's hand. "Candy?"

"What were you expecting, a gourmet meal home cooked especially by King Kong and The Thing back there? Perfectly proportioned and sealed in tidy packages to be reheated at our leisure?"

Sebastian gives Kurt a dirty look and tears roughly into the plastic. The chocolate is all melted from being in Kurt's pocket and by the time they've finished eating it their hands are a mess. Kurt begins sucking and licking his fingers off one by one while Sebastian watches in disgust.

"What? It's not like we have a sink to clean up. I'm improvising."

"You're really good at that," Sebastian says just as Kurt starts going to town on his ring finger. His pale cheeks redden immediately and Sebastian laughs.

"You're an asshole," Kurt informs him. He wipes the rest of the mess off on the grass. "Come on. We've dawdled long enough."

~0~

Duran Duran is blasting from Blaine's phone and he steps out of the kitchen.

"Coop?"

"Hey Blainey! See, I'm calling you back. I'm a good brother and friend. I almost always get back to you when you leave messages with my assistant, right?"

"Yeah, sure Coop," Blaine answers, only half paying attention to his brother's voice. He's staring at a photograph on the wall – four year old Kurt on his mother's lap, giggling as she tickles his belly.

"Blaine? Are you crying? If I did something and you're about to burst into some angry song at me, you gotta give me a chance to prepare. I'm just getting over some sort of laryngitis and I'm not at my best voice. Hold on." Blaine can hear Cooper clearing his throat and humming something that sounds vaguely like scales.

"Cooper, no. You didn't... Cooper!"

"What? Oh. What's wrong then, Squirt?"

"It's Kurt." Blaine's voice breaks over his name.

"Uh-oh, trouble in boy paradise."

"He's been kidnapped."

"Seriously? Is he famous enough for that? Because you talk about him all the time, but I've never –"

"His dad is a Congressman, Coop."

"Huh. So politically famous. I can dig that. Oh my God, this is perfect! I have this audition next week, a pilot for the CW. It's a gritty cop drama about a psychic who helps the local PD solve a wave of missing persons related crimes. I, naturally, am trying out for the title role: Carl Young: Psychic Detective. They're hoping it'll be a great success with the much coveted 18-49 demographic."

"How does that... Cooper, please. I can't, not right now."

"No, Blaine, see – I can come to Lima and be your supportive brother and do some character research while I'm there. That way you don't have to feel guilty for taking up my precious time! And maybe I can help find your boyfriend with my psychic powers."

"Cooper, you don't have psychic powers –"

"No arguments, Blaine. It's no trouble at all. Really. I'm coming to be the brother you want me to be. And luckily I've been meeting with the head honchos so I'm not too far away. I'll book a flight asap."

"Coop –"

"See you soon, little bro."

And Blaine is left with dead air. During the mostly one-sided conversation with his brother he had absentmindedly wandered into Kurt's room out of habit and sat down on his bed. The bed is unmade, which is very odd for Kurt. Blaine lies amongst the bumps and folds of the duvet and buries his nose in the sheets. They smell like Kurt – his cleansers and moisturizers, but mostly they smell like his skin.

He sits up too quickly, his head swimming. He can't do this now; he can't lie around like a useless lump sniffing Kurt's sheets as if he is never again going to smell the actual Kurt. He gets up off the bed and straightens the sheets and blankets. When he moves Kurt's favourite pillow to tuck the sheets underneath, a multitude of crumpled tissues fall to the floor. Blaine sits back down on the bed and hugs Kurt's pillow to him. He is the cause, the reason for those tissues as well as the wrinkled fabric of Kurt's pillowcase which is very obviously the result of his dried tears. Blaine did that.

He curls up in the middle of the bed and waits.