Authors' notes: This is a collaboration fic of JWM and deliriumbubbles. (please visit tumblr for our respective blogs)

Warnings: assault, homophobic slurs, violence, dub-con, depression.

CHAPTER FOUR

KURT

Kurt had considered telling Blaine about his escort to the memorial, but he'd gotten so worked up about seeing Adam with Kurt before. He'd even refused to take a bite of the apple pie Kurt had made with his 'bouquet," and peeling all those apples hadn't been particularly easy. He was weeks away from full use of his right hand.

For the sake of the memorial, Kurt took some extra time with his appearance. It would be his first time out since he'd come home, and Kitt deserved better than some sad sap with flat hair wearing sweatpants. He did have a black pair of dress slacks, which were oddly loose now, but it was a good thing. He would be able to handle the button on his own (no cutting his pants off in the middle of New York). As he stood in front of his rack of clothes, Kurt heard Blaine and Sam talking in the kitchen. Blaine seemed a lot… better, since Sam got back. Less annoyed, anyway.

Kurt sighed and picked a midnight blue silk shirt and a black vest with a slight shimmering pattern on the front. It wasn't a funeral, but it felt appropriate.

After struggling his way through all the buttons, Kurt took himself to the mirror and began doing his hair. It crossed his mind that he might steal some of Rachel's make-up to cover his remaining bruises.

"You sure you're not going out to a club?" Blaine said behind him.

Kurt half-turned to look at Sam and Blaine, who had just come in through the curtain, then looked at himself in the mirror again. Was he being too vain? Would this look like he was trying to draw attention away from Kitt?

Sam chuckled softly. "A goth club, maybe. Hey, dude, is there anything we can help you with? You sure you wanna go to this thing alone?"

"Sam, he said he was fine," Blaine said, a tinge of panic in his voice. Like he suddenly might be obligated to come and not enjoy their Day of SheBLAMigans, as they'd been calling it all freakin' day.

Honestly, the concept of Blaine coming along, with or without Adam present, filled Kurt with anxiety.

"I did, and I am." Kurt smoothed the lint roller over his outfit, then looked at Sam. "Anyway, K'evondra only knows me. It's not exactly a party. Plus two. BYOB."

Sam crooked his lips to the side. "I just wanted to offer. Maybe like, ride with you on the subway, or something."

Kurt looked away from them and went to find his wallet and keys. "I'm not a little kid."

"Not what I meant. I mean, if I'd just… Just call if you need anything, okay? We won't be anyplace we can't hear the phone."

Kurt slipped his wallet into his back pocket and bowed his head, sucking in his lower lip. "Sorry. I don't mean to be-"

"Nah. You weren't," Sam said. He walked over to Kurt and patted his shoulder gently.

Kurt swallowed and headed out the door.

Anxiety continued to creep up the back of Kurt's neck until he reached the bottom of the stairs and spotted Adam's blond head bobbing outside. He opened the door to see Adam sort of dancing in place. Moving closer, he saw his lips moving. Adam was rehearsing a piece in his head.

"Hi," Kurt peeped softly, hoping not to startle him.

"Oh!" Adam beamed. "Hi. Are you ready?"

"Yeah. I think so. We should go." Kurt looked up at their window, then stepped forward on the sidewalk. "We go?"

"We go." Adam stepped up alongside him.

They walked for a few minutes silently. Then, needing the distraction, Kurt asked if Adam was practicing for any particular reason. Adam smiled and started in on the auditions he was going for. Kurt bobbed his head, grateful for the conversation, and that got them to the subway. Kurt couldn't help but notice the people on the streets. How they moved. Whether they were walking too near them, or for the most part, just charging ahead on their daily business. Oblivious.

As they moved down the stairs to the subway, Adam's hand raised and settled on Kurt's back.

"I'm not overdressed, am I?" Kurt asked suddenly. "I don't want to be disrespectful. I'm not going for a 'Look at me! Look at me!' I just… I just wanted to look nice, I-I thought… Kitt…"

"He was like you. You want to dress in a way that he would have appreciated," Adam surmised. "I think he'd like it. It's not showy, but you do look very nice. Don't worry."

The conversation after that came in sporadic bursts. Kurt was only half tuned into it. He was too aware of all the people around him. He couldn't keep track of them all, moving around, and past, and occasionally bumping into him, even when they were just standing still on the platform. He bowed his head over and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Adam's big arm came around him, and Kurt realized that their conversation had completely stopped. He was trying to come up with an excuse. A headache, maybe, or allergies, when Adam whispered in a low, warm tone that carried right to Kurt's ears, then to some place deep inside of him:

"You're okay."

Adam stayed right by Kurt's side in the close-packed subway. Then as they returned to the street, Kurt separated from Adam, looking at him briefly before he hugged his arms across his chest, resting his left hand on his bicep, and tucking the right away. It was oddly chilly, and it had been rainy for days. The way the overcast sky sapped away the light made if feel as though they were stepping into the dusk, just on the edge of nighttime. Dark streets, and dark alleys. Kurt glanced around them as they made their way to the community center where K'evondra had told them folks would be gathering.

The center didn't have any heat. Once inside, it almost seem colder than it had on the street. But there were people milling around already, setting up chairs and fixing pictures to the walls. Kurt stopped midstep and almost fell as people drifted to the side and his eyes lit upon the display at the front.

That was him. Her. Both. Stefin Allan. Kitten Fantastico. They'd placed two large photos side by side with a row of candles underneath. One photo revealed a young man with close cropped (and dyed red) hair and a huge grin. And the other? Kitten. Same grin, a lot more makeup, and the wig. It was a surprise that he recognized her at all, with the injuries that she- he had sustained.

Kurt closed his eyes tightly as the image of a large, brutal hand surged toward his neck.

"Do you want my jacket? From England, y'know, it's colder… there…" Adam trailed off as Kurt opened his eyes and took a shaky breath. "Oh, that's not it."

"N-no, I'm not cold," Kurt said. His held his arms more stiffly and chided himself on thinking that it would be easy to come here.

"I know," Adam replied.

Kurt looked at him with a scowl. Adam's brows rose. Kurt felt a stab of guilt for being so prickly when all Adam was trying to do was take care of him. He felt like he should be capable of taking care himself by now, though.

Then, in a moment, they'd been spotted. K'evondra greeted him with a gentle hug, and led them over to where the family was putting up extra pictures of Stefin/Kitt, taken with friends and family. Kurt bobbed his head along as a wash of introductions came at him, the remaining brothers and sisters, a grandmother, aunts, cousins, a few who might be family, or not.

"This is our pastor, Anne," K'evondra said, gesturing to a graying dark-skinned woman.

"If you'd like some food… I didn't ask them, it's really not the place, but the congregation brought it anyway. They always do. You can't stop them from trying to take care of our kids," Anne said warmly.

Our kids.

Kurt didn't trust his mouth not to spill out an inappropriate joke (the Hummelian way of dealing with disaster) or his eyes from spilling out tears at the thought of how completely accepted and valued Stefin had apparently been in his community, including the church. So Kurt just made polite noises, and took a candle when offered.

K'evondra stood, talking to an aunt, petting the littlest girl's hair. The girl stared at Kurt curiously. He wondered if she was thinking about her brother. Then again, she could just be thinking that his outfit was strange.

"Vera, c'mon. Stop being rude," K'evondra chided. She swatted the back of the girl's dress lightly and sent her over with the other children.

Over the next fifteen minutes, the center began to fill with people and warmth. And the people, oh, there were all kinds of people. Kurt didn't like to think of himself as a small town hick, but sometimes, New York proved him wrong. There were straight couples, yes, but also gay families, and enough variation in gender that Kurt couldn't even guess, for some. A few people wore black, and some wore bright colors. The children's choir had one little boy with purple stockings under his shorts and Mary Jane buckle shoes, and together the kids opened with a cheerful, churchy song about light and love, and something. Kurt wasn't familiar with it, but the kids were into it, and dancing around, and it was cute.

He was a little afraid that he had stumbled into a church service when Pastor Anne came up, but instead of preaching, she instructed the kids to pass out the candles, and thanked everyone for coming, and waved forward a few people straggling in. Her kind, weathered voice told them that anyone who wanted to come up and share their memories of Stefin (or Kitten Fantastico!, she clarified, resulting in a soft wave of friendly laughter) was perfectly welcome to do so.

"I knew Stefin since that boy was knee-high to a duck," she said fondly, shaking her head. "He was a good child, and grew to be a good man, long before he ought to have had to. Worked to keep outta trouble so he could help his brothers and sisters, workedperiod, to make sure they could all eat. Even when the family was doing well, he volunteered with the church to make sure those in our community who didn't have, had enough. I won't say the Lord takes the best of us just so he can have him another angel, but bless, the Lord is damn lucky right now to have this one!"

Several people started to clap.

"Tonight, I'm sure you'll hear many sides of this boy that you never thought possible. He touched all walks of life, and he walked in this world without prejudice. We can only hope to emulate the good that he would have given the world, if it were not for the hatred and fear of some very small men."

Kurt covered his lips and felt himself starting to shake again. Adam's hand rested on his shoulder and started to knead, gently. Kurt flashed him a tense smile, and Adam tipped his candle over to light Kurt's. Kurt watched at the flickering for a moment before turning to the person on his left and doing the same.

Kitt's brothers and sisters came first, telling stories of their childhood. The brothers talked about how their big brother always looked out for them, and didn't let anyone hassle them at school, and how one time he took them all camping and taught them how to set up a tent and light a fire. Little Vera just said that she missed him, then murmured a nearly inaudible thanks to the "boy who tried to save him."

Kurt bit his lip as K'evondra came up, her arms around her little brothers and sisters, and she talked about Stefin's strength after their mother had died, and what his young passion had meant to their family. More family followed, interspersed with what looked like friends from school, and friends from clubs. Eventually Kitt's best friend Katy appeared. Her wispy blond hair was pulled into pigtails set low on either side of her head, and she wore a nice pair of slacks with a tan jacket with an uncluttered damask pattern, and a pair of circular, red-framed glasses, that she fiddled with as she spoke. She shared about their first time going to college, and what it had meant for them to be able to go. And to go together.

There was laughter, and tears, and more love and support from and for everyone in this room than Kurt could really wrap his mind around. He knew he was shaking again, and tried to still himself, to no avail. He'd go up as well, if he could. He wanted to pay his respects. But it was a memorial. He had no memory but of Kitt's death, and while it was one that haunted him, he would never want the people in this room to have to hear that. He didn't want to make their celebration of Kitt's life about his inability to cope.

He also thought, briefly, about sharing a song. But he didn't know what kind of music Kitt had liked, and it would probably be the wrong one, and then he'd be up there, face smudged with dark blue reminders, monopolizing the spotlight from the person he failed to save. Not to mention, Kurt wasn't entirely sure how long his voice could carry a song. He'd only tried to warm his voice up once, and it had sounded something like Sugar Motta's best. Not much of a tribute.

Adam's fingers kneaded the crook of Kurt's shoulder. Kurt looked to Adam again, preparing to shoot his pity down with one look. But Adam's eyes were only sad, a little wet. He frowned softly at Kurt, looking concerned, and his lips formed over the words,

"Is this okay? Do you need space?"

Kurt didn't know what to say, or even mouth, to that. He shook his head dumbly and leaned back into Adam's firm, strong chest.

"I've got you," Adam assured in the barest whisper.

When Kurt found the words, he reached back with his tired, twitching hand to take Adam's and whispered, "Thank you."

By the end, there had been so many stories, so many songs, that Kurt couldn't separate one memorial speech from the other. He was just left with this feeling of warmth andpurpose. These people didn't really need him, so much. And that was a relief. But surely, there were people out there who didn't have this kind of community ready to rally around them in their time of need.

Maybe, if nothing else, sometime he could be that for someone.

The memorial had lasted longer than Kurt had imagined. Several hours. And it was very dark out when they stepped back into the cold. Kurt felt lit up inside, though, and started spilling over, telling Adam things he had been thinking during the memorial, and then, a few things he kept reliving from that night.

Adam nodded and kept encouraging him to continue. Eventually, Kurt bowed his head forward and pressed a hand to his red face.

"I'm sorry. I'm talking way, way too much about this. No one wants to hear about this."

"I think there was a very large room full of people who needed to talk about the hole Kitt left in their lives. You're entitled to do the same. How else are you supposed to process it all, if you don't work through it?"

Kurt felt his heart catch in his throat. "I don't deserve you."

"Stop saying that." Adam reached over and took his hand, warming it in his own massive paw. "You deserve so much more than a basic listening ear."

They stopped at the crosswalk, and Kurt's heart surged in his chest. But not from panic. Not at all.

Adam was looking across the street at the lights glittering out in the city. Flush and full of energy from the evening, Kurt leaned in closer. He could see a slight blush on Adam's cheek. Kurt touched Adam's chin, slightly turning it, and pressed his soft lips to Adam's.

When Adam pulled away, Kurt felt a new flame rising over his cheeks and neck.

"I-I'm sorry."

"You also deserve a lot more than me taking advantage," Adam said firmly.

"But I was the one-"

"Doesn't matter," Adam insisted. He looked back to Kurt, with eyes vulnerable but resolute. "You're grieving, darling. You're allowed to grieve, and make mistakes. You're allowed to want comfort. And you should not have to beg for it."

So comfort Adam gave. Without another word of explanation, Adam held him close, enveloping Kurt in his warmth. Kurt's heart was still beating at a ridiculously fast rate. He wasn't sure that it was a mistake. But at least he was getting over feeling like someone might jump out at him at any moment.

BLAINE

"Oh, God, and that girl with her-" Blaine made a wiggly dance move with his hands in the air.

Sam laughed loudly, then covered his mouth and pointed to the door of the loft. He was right. It was too late to be this loud out. Rachel always needed her beauty sleep, and Kurt had probably already popped an Ambien.

Blaine pulled the door open slowly and looked at Sam with a sense of conspiracy. Sam made his "Rachel face" which included duck lips, rolling eyes, and a raised hand. Blaine let out a bark of laughter before he could cover his mouth and turned wide-eyed toward the privacy curtains. Blocking out sound wasn't so easy when you didn't have interior walls.

There were no outbursts of complaint, however. No sound at all. Except some crunching. Blaine furrowed his brow in confusion, and then Sam tapped on his shoulder and pointed. There was Kurt, in the middle of the couch with both legs drawn up. One flopped slightly sideways, and in between, his hand loosely held a box of Franken-Berry.

Blaine stared for a moment. He tried to grasp the idea of Kurt eating those, despite his ragging on Blaine to eat like a grown up ("If it doesn't expire, it isn't food."). But there he was munching, somewhat idly, and staring at the television. Which wasn't on.

He's cracked, Blaine thought for a moment.

"Is he okay?" Sam whispered.

Blaine licked his lips slowly, then took in the full picture. Pajama bottoms. Snuggly long-sleeved shirt. Franken-Berry. Vacant gaze.

"He's asleep."

"What?"

Blaine came closer and sat next to Kurt. Kurt didn't look at him. Blaine turned and mouthed to Sam, "Sleepwalking."

"Really?" Sam drifted closer. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It's a side effect of the sleeping medication."

"That's scary, dude." Sam sat on Kurt's other side. He reached over and grabbed some Franken-Berry out of the box. "He looks like a zombie."

"He kind of is. His brain isn't totally turned on." Blaine sighed and sat back. "I hate when he does this. It's so freaky."

He didn't bother to whisper, anymore. Kurt couldn't hear him.

"I dunno." Sam slung his arm around Kurt's shoulders. "Maybe we could get him to watch Avengers with us, this way."

"Apparently he used to do it as a kid, too," Blaine explained. "Just kind of wander around the house and go back to sleep, like in the laundry room, or curled up under the kitchen table, until Burt or his mom scooped him up and put him back in bed. Burt told me about it."

Sam frowned and patted Kurt's shoulder. "That's dangerous. We should put a lock on the window. That's a big drop."

Blaine stared at Sam. He'd never thought of that before. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"No. It was just the first thing that popped to mind." Sam gave Kurt's back a rub and rose, taking Kurt's pink-dust-covered hand. "C'mon, back to bed."

"I don't think you should wake him."

"I wasn't gonna." Sam lowered and slipped an arm around Kurt, urging him to rise. Kurt just stared, his eyes shifting a little at some invisible thing in front of him. Sam put a finger to his lips and walked slowly with Kurt, guiding him back behind the curtain.

After a moment, Blaine followed and when he opened the curtain, he saw Sam coaxing Kurt to lay down. Eventually, Kurt climbed in the bed and flopped over. Sam laughed softly.

"We might have to chain him to the bed." Sam turned and gave Blaine a wink. "Good for you, huh?"

"C'mon, Sam, don't be gross." Blaine rolled his eyes. Like Kurt even wanted him in the bed most of the time, anyway. "Just let him sleep."

"It sucks he can't sleep without pills. That's probably not good."

Blaine was kind of glad Kurt hadn't been awake when they'd gotten home, to be perfectly honest. If he'd been awake when they'd gotten home, he probably would have needed to talk about the memorial. Blaine wouldn't have known what to say.

"You think the memorial went okay?" Sam sat on the edge of the bed and patted Kurt's leg.

Blaine headed over to the dresser to change into a tank top and some shorts. "I hope so. I don't think he would've tried to sleep if he was upset. But it's not like Rachel would sit and talk with him. I can hear her snoring."

"I just meant- I don't know what I mean. It would suck to have gone to so many funerals by his age, y'know?" Sam looked over at the nightstand and reached over to pick something up.

"I just wish she'd help," Blaine said through the fabric of his shirt. He tugged it down. "She's known him longer. It would mean a lot to him."

Sam turned something over in his hands and sighed. "Maybe Mercedes would come. She's known him even longer. And she doesn't have her head up her big diva butt."

Blaine chuckled.

"Dude, I'm kinda over her Barbra hair-apparent thing. Did you know Kurt cut himself out of that jacket?" Sam got up, holding a little baggy with brass buttons.

"What jacket?" Blaine came over and stared at the bag.

"The one I got him. I wish he'd just…" Sam shook his head. "I'm gonna go crash. I have work in the morning. Not model work, but work work."

"Okay." Blaine crawled up on the bed and lay next to Kurt, watching his face. Eyebrows unfurrowed, lids half-shut. His little zombie fiancé.

Blaine inched forward and kissed his forehead, then reached over and ran his hand through the hair on the back of Kurt's head while he slept, until Blaine fell asleep himself.