Author's Note: Due to some readers voicing narrative confusion concerning the previous chapter, I have made adjustments and edits to it in the hopes of clarifying the points which I believed to have caused the confusion. Please reread it if you like; I hope that the adjustments I have made serve the narrative to the readers' liking.
Warnings: references to attempted suicide, adult language, graphic descriptions of sexual encounters, depictions of abusive relationships, drug use, rape, gun violence, and character death.
I do not own any part of Glee nor the characters or references therein.
I do not won the songs referenced throughout.
Approximate words this chapter: 6,000
"I'm here to find out about a guy who was brought here a little over an hour ago by ambulance," Dave spoke to the attendant behind the desk at the emergency room entrance; his voice was polite but marked with some element of anxiety, urgency; he spoke quickly. Though he was able to wash Sebastian's blood from his hands and, largely, from his arms, Dave was self-conscious: he could feel a film of residue on his skin; and the places where the blood had soaked into his black T-shirt, though not visible due to the shirt's color, were sticky and a reminder of sobering events earlier in the evening. He'd covered the T-shirt with the lined flannel jacket which he'd left in Sebastian's car at the school earlier in the evening, buttoning it from its base to his neck to hide as much of the T-shirt as the jacket would afford. "He had a gunshot wound. His name is Sebastian Smythe."
The middle-aged woman behind the desk looked from Dave's face to her computer monitor, then to a list on a clipboard; then shuffling through a stack of papers, she stopped on a particular page, scanning it with her eyes before lifting her gaze upward to Dave again and speaking.
"Are you a family member?"
"No," Dave answered as Kurt stood to Dave's side, an expression of understandable concern on his face. "I'm a friend," Dave furthered, "I was with him when it happened, and we were the ones who called 911 and waited for the ambulance to arrive."
"We're still trying to contact his family members," the woman stated. "We haven't heard back from them."
"Is he okay?" Dave spoke, more urgent this time. "As far as I know, his family lives elsewhere. He was living alone here in Lima."
The woman gazed again at her monitor, a serious expression on her face. "Your friend is doing alright. He was in surgery, but he's not any longer. They're waiting to place him in a room for the duration of the night."
"He's gonna be okay, then?" Dave asked excitedly but relieved, "Can I see him?"
"Unless something unforeseen develops, they are expecting him to be fine," the woman answered. "You can't see him, though, not until family members are contacted. This is standard hospital protocol."
Dave nodded, quick and polite. "I understand, but he's going to be okay?"
"He'd lost a lot of blood," the woman explained. "He'd been shot. For those reasons alone, he was listed as a critical emergency when he came in. He's stable now, but he's just post-surgery. He'll probably be in fair, or even good, condition when he wakes. Provided we get in touch with his family, he could be released as soon as Monday."
Dave nodded, more slowly this time, his expression calmed as he spoke to the attendant. "Okay. Thank you for letting me know."
Kurt followed Dave through the emergency room doors into the cool night air. Dave slowed to a halt once outside the doors, his head facing downward to the pavement. Kurt stopped short, abruptly, behind him, laying his hand softly on Dave's back.
"Are you alright, David?" Kurt asked quietly.
Dave drew a breath loudly and bent forward, his hands gripping his legs just above his knees, supporting himself as if catching his breath after a physically taxing activity. He was silent for a moment before answering.
"Yeah, I'm okay. This was the most fucked-up night. When I think about it, the last couple weeks have been completely messed-up."
"I know, David," Kurt's reply was soft, understanding as he rubbed Dave's back.
"I'm really glad you're here, Kurt."
Kurt turned his face toward Dave's, expressing a small, empathetic smile. Dave turned toward Kurt, an uncertain expression which softened upon seeing Kurt's.
Kurt nodded, understanding the wordless exchange, before speaking, quietly again. "Take your time. Catch your breath. We have almost two hours before we need to be at the airport.
Dave's breathing calmed. "After all this, I am really looking forward to going away. I was looking forward to it before, but now I feel like I really need a change of scenery, even if it is only for a week."
Kurt nodded, raising his hand to Dave's shoulder and rubbing it gently, supportive. Dave's smile became more pronounced, and Kurt's smile followed likewise.
The two stood quietly for a brief span, breathing, calming. Dave stood upright again and turned to face Kurt. Kurt looked upward with a slightly brighter expression.
"Are you feeling a little better now, Dave?"
Dave nodded.
"Are you ready to get moving?"
"Yeah, just give me another minute," Dave answered.
The two stood, quiet, relaxed; Dave was visibly calmer, more relieved than a minute before. He swivelled his head, taking in the well-lit emergency room area, noticing the ambulance entrance several yards away from them and the tall, husky, bearded emergency medical technician standing just outside the doorway there.
"Hey, that's the driver who brought Sebastian here," Dave remarked, quietly but suddenly piqued, to Kurt. "I'm gonna go over and talk to him."
Kurt smiled, patting Dave's back lightly. "Go ahead. I'll be waiting in the car for you."
Dave walked briskly, almost breaking into a jog as he approached the ambulance driver who was standing in front of the sliding doors, bathed in the light from entryway.
"Hey," Dave spoke loudly upon his approach, "Remember me?"
The man was drawing on a cigarette, smoke swirling and snaking upward under the illumination of the outdoor lights. When he heard and saw Dave, he took the cigarette from his mouth with his left hand, giving Dave an alert glance, then smiling as he recognized him from earlier in the evening.
"Yeah, of course," the man spoke, offering his right hand in greeting to Dave as he approached; the two shook hands.
"I was just here checking on my friend," Dave spoke. "They wouldn't let me see him, but they said he's gonna be okay."
"No small thanks to you, bud," the man offered.
"Huh?" Dave muttered, a slightly confused expression.
"The bullet skimmed and breached his brachial artery," The man explained, lifting his cigarette to drag again. "If you hadn't tied off his arm and kept him awake the whole time, he'd have likely bled out. You saved your friend's life."
"Wow," Dave was genuinely stunned by the words.
"I'm Derek, by the way," the man said. "Nice to meet you."
"Same. My name's Dave." Dave inhaled, a strange silence for a moment before speaking, "Well, he wouldn't have made it without you either, I'm sure."
The man chuckled, good-naturedly. "Yeah, but I save peoples' lives for a living. You're a quick thinker who actually knew how to handle the situation."
"I guess," Dave smiled crookedly, accepting the informal compliment. "Do you get many shooting victims?"
"From that part of town?" the man replied, "No, but it's been a crazy night all over."
"Oh yeah?" Dave questioned.
"Well, yeah. Shooting victim at the school in a decent part of town. One of my friends, another EMT like me, got called out to a house fire a little while ago. Walked into a crazy, freakish situation."
"Oh yeah? Like what?" Dave was intrigued.
"Well, like I said, there was this house fire," Derek explained. "It must've been called in just when it happened because they got the fire under control really fast. Inside the house, though, they found a naked kid handcuffed and bound to, like, a suspension device, like, kinky sex apparatus."
Dave's facial expression went blank as Derek continued.
"The kid was still alive, but, like, the heat was so intense that the handcuffs actually burned into his wrists where he was cuffed and most of the hair on his body was singed off. He had major smoke inhalation, might be permanent damage to his throat and his lungs, and his face had been cut up. He was young, a little guy, but they didn't have any ID on the kid. He might have been, like fourteen or something, who knows?"
"Shit," Dave muttered, disturbed.
"Shit is right," Derek seconded, dragging again on his cigarette. "They found the body of a middle-aged man there also. He'd been shot through the head. The murder weapon was also found there."
"Where was this?" Dave asked, tentative, hushed.
"Over on Alder Street, not far from that McKinley school, actually."
Dave shook his head, recognizing the name of the street as the one on which Ryerson lived. "That's fucked up."
"Yeah," Derek nodded, quiet agreement.
"Uh, I should get going," Dave spoke finally, sounding somewhat unsettled by the story. "Well, nice meeting you, Derek, and thanks for saving my friend's life."
Though Dave appeared distressed, Derek smiled and waved. "Nice meeting you too, Dave. And you did as much to save your friend's life as I did."
Dave nodded, mustered an uncertain smile, and gave a clumsy wave before turning and walking back to the visitor's lot.
He climbed into the passenger seat of the rental car, buckled his safely belt, and sat silent as Kurt backed the car from the parking space and drove to the exit, making a right onto the highway.
"Everything okay, Dave?" Kurt asked, innocently.
"Yeah," Dave replied slowly, trying to hide the fact that he was slightly troubled by his conversation with Derek, "Everything's cool."
"You weren't talking for long."
"Nah," Dave spoke quietly, above a mumble. "Didn't have much to say. He said that it was a crazy night. I thanked him for saving Sebastian. He said that what I did before he arrived actually saved Sebastian."
Kurt turned to Dave, a small but genuine smile on his face. "You're a hero, Dave."
This summoned a brief smile from Dave in return.
Kurt drove in silence for a moment before Dave asked, "Hey, Kurt, do you mind making a slight detour on the way back to my place?"
Kurt turned briefly toward Dave. "Sure, no problem. What's up?"
"Oh, something the ambulance driver was telling me about. A house fire on Alder Street. Just wanna kinda drive by the place and check it out." Dave tried to make his interest in the event indifferent, incidental.
"Sure," Kurt replied. "We're headed in that direction anyway. Where on Alder street is it?"
"I'm... not sure," Dave answered. "You know where that convenience store is on the corner? Just go there."
Kurt approached the intersection where the convenience store stood, illuminated but quiet.
"Okay, turn right down Alder," Dave instructed.
As they made the turn, they saw two firetrucks parked on the street in front of the house which Dave knew to be Sandy Ryerson's. The fire seemed to have been extinguished, but some of the firemen remained busy, collecting debris and gathering equipment, setting sprinklers to hydrate the smoldering structure. Despite the obvious evidence of an extinguished fire, the house appeared intact.
"I guess that's what he was telling you about," Kurt offered, sounding unmoved.
"Yeah," Dave exhaled, his mind preoccupied.
"Was the driver at this place tonight also?" Kurt asked.
"Uh, no," Dave answered. "He said that one of his friends who's also an EMT was here. They pulled a survivor out of the house, but a guy died here also."
"Oh," Kurt muttered soberly. "Doesn't really look like much damage."
"No, he said that it was called in just as the fire started, and the firemen got it under control really fast," Dave commented.
"Are we done here, Dave?"
"Yeah, yeah," Dave shook his head and returned his attention to Kurt. "Let's get me home so I can shower and change and grab my stuff and say goodbye to my dad. We have a flight to catch."
Kurt drove the car to the next intersection, past the fireman who was directing traffic around the parked firetrucks, and back on the main road in the direction of Dave's house.
"You and Sebastian are just friends, right?" Kurt asked, almost shy-sounding.
"Oh, yeah, Kurt," Dave answered loudly, a dismissive expression on his face. "I mean, I think he's an attractive guy, and he told me that he felt much the same about me, but we really aren't each other's type or anything. And, given that, it's totally immaterial, but, if I'd have ever entertained thoughts of Sebastian being anything other than a friend, after tonight, I'm convinced that he's a little too wild for me. I'll stick with my book-reading, coffee-drinking, video-game-playing friends. Maybe the occasional beer or two with, like, the three jocks who still talk to me. And I'm fine, no, I'm great with all of that."
Kurt turned, smiling at Dave, and, upon seeing this, Dave returned the smile.
Karyn drifted into her house, quietly, demurely verbalizing her arrival to Celia's parents. She ascended the stairs to Celia's bedroom and understood that there was work to be done, preparations to be made. Karyn knew that such a time could arrive, that her stay in Celia's bedroom and world might come to an end, and she welcomed it warmly.
Upon closing the bedroom door, Kayrn slowly, quietly opened the doors to her closet and reached to the farthest corner of the floor, feeling for and removing the box. The box contained the artifacts of Celia's life: posters and magazine clippings of boy-bands and teen-actor-heartthrobs, soft, comforting stuffed animals, other items of ephemera, pieces of Celia's childhood which was indefinitely put on hold.
Karyn lovingly restored the posters, clippings, and portraits to their former places on the walls of the room. She decorated the barren corkboard with photos of Celia's friends and greeting cards, affixing them with frilly, decorative tacks. She returned the stuffed animals to their former homes around the room: the purple pony was Celia's favorite and always occupied a place of honor on the bed.
Kayrn removed the unisex suit she had been wearing and laid a modest nightgown with a delicate pink floral print and a lacy collar onto the bed. Celia would appreciate waking in that nightgown tomorrow morning, Karyn knew.
She stepped into the bathroom and began working on her hair, chemically restoring it to Celia's fair, light-brown color. She dutifully showered, washing, liberating herself from the poison world that brought Karyn into existence, preparing her body for the imminent return of Celia.
Though far from empty, there were many vacant seats in the airplane's cabin. Kurt and Dave had two seats in a far corner of the space to themselves: a space of four seats separated them from the nearest passenger.
"I thought certain that there'd be more people on this flight," Kurt observed.
"Well, I'm certainly not complaining," Dave replied. "It might not have been possible for you to get a seat on this flight at such short notice. Besides, it's kinda cool having this corner all to ourselves."
Kurt grinned as he audibly exhaled. "It's cozy back here. It looks like the rest of the passengers are either asleep or preoccupied."
"Yeah, everyone in their own little world," Dave remarked. "I'd imagine that this's isn't unusual for red-eye flights."
"You should be asleep yourself, Dave. You had a long, crazy day."
Dave chuckled. "I should be, but I'm kinda too tired to sleep. Or too wired. Or something. I'm glad to be spending time with you. I guess I'm excited about going to New York with a friend, probably my best friend." Kurt smiled; Dave paused, thoughtful. "I'm glad to get away from the craziness of everything that happened tonight." Dave's brow creased before he added, "Hey, your day was just as long and nearly as crazy as mine was."
Kurt grinned, nodding his head slowly. "Yes, you're right. But I think I'm looking forward to having you visit for the coming week too."
Dave smiled, aiming his gaze downward into the back of the seat in front of him. Both sat in silence for a moment.
"David?"
"Yeah?"
"Will you hold my hand?"
Dave smiled at the request and lifted his right hand upward, above the armrest; Kurt did the same with his left hand, and Dave laid his hand gently atop the back of Kurt's, their hands locking softly.
"David, remember the last time we saw each other before I left for New York?"
"Yeah, definitely," Dave nodded, his voice quiet but his response certain.
"I made a really misplaced, kind-of, advance toward you physically?"
"Yeah, I remember that," Dave spoke, softer but with no noticeable sign of discomfort.
"You said that it," Kurt hesitated, "... wasn't appropriate at that time, to be that way."
"Mmm-hmm," Dave nodded.
"I'm wondering," Kurt spoke, some purpose in his tone though he kept his voice hushed, "Do you think that we might someday get to a point where it would be appropriate?"
Dave smiled and blushed. "I... think it could happen. I think some other stuff has to happen before then, though."
"Like when I told you that I thought I loved you?" Kurt responded. "Like, it wasn't the appropriate time for that either."
Dave nodded, smiling, almost laughing. "Yeah, but, like last Valentine's Day, when I said that I thought I loved you, we weren't right at that time then either." Dave turned his eyes to address Kurt's. "But there could be a right time for that. I don't think it would be too far away or too difficult to imagine."
"A lot has happened in a couple of weeks, Dave."
Dave nodded, once again a near laugh. "I know."
"Do you think we could be ready for it now?" Kurt asked, leading.
"I think the conditions are better now," Dave answered. "Maybe the conditions are right."
"I've thought about you a lot in the past couple of weeks, David."
"I think about you a lot," Dave countered. "Well, since February, mostly as a friend. Something about you moving to New York and, I think, regaining yourself kinda made me see that you, um, we can maybe be something more. Maybe that you said that I helped you make that leap, maybe that got me more comfortable with the idea that I could be someone who could help you that way. I know I've thought about being physically close to you, but, like even more than that, I'd want to be someone you could count on for support when you feel you need that."
"Dave, you've shown me how supportive you are," Kurt spoke, decisively. "And I've thought about being physical with you as well."
"Kurt, you've been a really important person to me, helping me and being someone who cared enough to know me, to get to know me. Knowing that I can have some kind of place of importance with you makes me think that we can make a move to be closer. I think that I had to know that to be alright with moving forward into... something with you. I think I had to know that I had something to offer. And I think I had to be sure that you weren't just doing it out of being desperate to hear somebody tell you the right things."
"You think we both needed to be sure of ourselves?"
"Yeah," Dave answered. "And I think we're there now."
Dave turned his head to face Kurt. Kurt looked upward, facing Dave. Their eyes met. Dave felt invited: there was nothing hesitant or uncertain in Kurt's face. Dave leaned closer, and their lips met, soft and slow, feeling the moment. Dave shuddered but shifted in his seat to hide it, turning to face Kurt more directly. They parted and Dave grinned, gently biting his lower lip
"That was way better than the last time I kissed you," Dave whispered.
"You can go for another," Kurt offered, "I won't push you away this time, I promise."
Dave smiled wider and their lips met again. It was quick but definitive like a punctuation to the exchange. As they parted, they both absorbed the sight of the other. There was no question that they were both incredibly happy to have met on these terms. Kurt reached upward, gently coaxing Dave's head forward, and touching his lips to Dave's forehead. Dave chuckled, nearly giggled.
"That feels so incredible," Dave spoke, just above a whisper. "I feel so, like, secure and protected in that."
Dave rested his forehead on the top of Kurt's head, and they held this posture for several deep, calm breaths. Dave shifted, leaning back in his seat and moving his right arm around to Kurt's right shoulder, pulling him closer. Despite the armrest between them, this was not uncomfortable. Kurt turned slightly toward Dave, adjusting himself in his seat, and ultimately resting his head on Dave's shoulder.
Celia woke early Sunday morning. The morning sunlight was streaming into her bedroom, bouncing from windows to the white walls, filling the room with bright light. Her mind was in a state of calm clarity, a newness she couldn't recall the last time she'd felt, as if she'd been asleep for days or weeks even. She climbed out of bed and glanced into her mirror to her familiar reflection: the soft, demure pink and lace of her nightgown. She was smiling; the new day instilling an optimism.
She slipped out of her nightgown and into a soft, warm sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. She left her bedroom and descended the stairs to greet her mother who was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the morning newspaper.
"Up early today, Celia?"
"Yeah," Celia answered, a brief but warm response.
"Your father's still in bed, I haven't even started breakfast yet."
"I though maybe I'd help you make breakfast today," Celia offered.
Her mother noted the unusual gesture, but welcomed the idea. It had been over a month since Celia had shown such interest in much of anything.
The two gathered cookware and items to make breakfast. "You're in a good mood today," Celia's mother noted as the two exchanged casual smiles. "I can't remember the last time we made breakfast together."
"I feel really good today," Celia responded. "I feel like... I don't know, exactly, but I feel really alive or something."
As the smells of coffee, melting butter in a frying pan, and toasting bread filled the kitchen, Celia spoke. "Y'know, I've been thinking. I think I'm ready to go back to school. I feel like I miss it. I want to go back."
Celia's mother paused for a moment, digesting and considering the idea. "Do you really think you're ready? Do you think the other kids will be trouble like the were before?"
Just let 'em try, Karyn's voice spoke defiantly to Celia within the confines of her mind.
"Yeah, mom," Celia addressed her mother with a small but assured smile. "I know I'm ready."
The week Dave spent in New York with Kurt and Rachel, well, mostly Kurt, was wonderful but too brief in Dave's mind. Early during the course of that week, Dave had resigned himself to the idea that he wanted to be close to Kurt. He spent some time, a couple of days, trying to pull together and plan a way to present the idea. When, on Friday afternoon, just as Kurt had finished work, Dave told Kurt as much, Dave was verbally clumsy in the proposition, but endearingly so. Kurt not only welcomed the idea, but said that he and Rachel certainly had enough space to share with another roommate.
Returning to Lima, Dave committed himself to the goal of getting into a New York college for the next fall semester. He spent a great deal of time researching colleges which would be a good fit to his likely course of study. Otherwise, life was casual for Dave. He was seeking part-time employment for the year, but he felt no great urgency on that front either.
It didn't surprise him that he found no trace of Sebastian in Lima upon his return. He'd sent several text messages and three emails to Sebastian during the week in which he was in New York: none were answered. He talked to the people at the hospital who informed Dave that Sebastian had been discharged on the Monday following the shooting and that they had no further information. Sebastian had a knack, Dave felt, for disappearing; and that's exactly what he'd done, Dave concluded.
More puzzling, though, was the complete void of information concerning the fire at Sandy Ryerson's house and the whereabouts of Blaine Anderson. Dave could assume that the person who was rescued from the fire was Blaine, and that the body found at Ryerson's house was that of Ryerson himself; but, being that the information given him by Derek was so vague, he didn't resign himself to that conclusion. The fate of Blaine Anderson wasn't something Dave was dwelling upon, but, as he found himself repeatedly facing an utter absence of information on the subject, he became more curious.
He'd checked local news websites and there was no mention of a house fire on Alder Street on that date. He checked the week-old newspapers at the public library: no stories there either. He had the badge number of the policeman who took his report on the shooting and called the police station, leaving him a voicemail. A returned call from the officer informed Dave that the case was closed and that Dave's assistance wouldn't be required further.
Furthermore, he hadn't mentioned the story told to him by Derek to Kurt. He wasn't sure how Kurt might react; and, since Dave could really only speculate about the matter, he felt that it was best left unmentioned.
It was a Wednesday morning, a little over a week after Dave returned from his trip to New York. Dave had just finished his morning jog at the park and was settling down for coffee and breakfast at the Lima Bean. He was to meet one of the friends he'd made online there, but he was early. Dave was about to open his laptop and check his email when he saw Derek, the ambulance driver from the night of the shooting, enter. Dave stood from his table and walked over to Derek who had just placed his order and was waiting at the counter.
"Hey, guy," Dave greeted, "Remember me?"
Derek turned and smiled upon seeing Dave, holding his hand out to shake Dave's. "Heck, yeah, I remember you." Derek spoke with a bright tone though his voice was rough and smoky-sounding. "You're the quick-thinking kid who saved his friend's life a few weeks back."
"Yeah, I guess that'd be me," Dave smiled with an air of pride. "Derek, right?"
"Yeah, that's right," Derek responded. "Sorry, but I don't remember your name."
Dave shrugged and smiled. "That's okay. You probably meet different people every day. You're not gonna remember everyone's name. I'm Dave."
"Cool. Cool running into you here."
"Yeah, same. Are you getting ready to go to work?"
"Me?" Derek questioned. "Nah, I'm just getting off my shift. I was pulling an all-nighter. Slow night, but sometimes, especially with my job, a boring night is a welcome thing."
"Yeah, I'd imagine that's the case," Dave nodded. "Hey, you remember that thing you told me the night my friend was shot, about the house fire and the kid they saved from it?"
Derek's expression went blank. "I wasn't at any house fire that night, and I didn't save any kid."
"No, you said that one of your friends was at a house fire and they rescued a kid from it."
"There was no fire that night," Derek's expression was now completely serious. "I would remember something like that."
"You told me about it when I ran into you at the hospital," Dave said, perplexity evident in his voice. "You said that a kid survived and they found the body of an older..."
"No," Derek's voice was harder, more insistent, cutting Dave off. "Nothing like that happened. You must be confusing it with something else."
Dave cast his gaze downward as the girl behind the counter handed Derek his coffee order.
"Nice running into you, Dave. Have a good day." Derek patted Dave's shoulder briskly and smiled politely as he lifted his coffee and turned for the exit door, leaving Dave standing at the counter, somewhat stunned.
Dave sat down once again at the table in front of his laptop, taken aback by the brief exchange. Within thirty minutes, his friend Austin arrived, and the two chatted and brought each other up to speed on their lives as they hadn't seen each other since the summer. While speaking with Austin, Dave drifted from thoughts of what Derek had told him, but the questions returned to Dave's mind when he left the Lima Bean.
Dave decided to drive to Alder Street on his way home. It had been only two-and-a-half weeks since the night of the shooting. Sandy Ryerson's house was still standing that night: he knew that much.
Everything appeared different in the light of day. Dave made the right turn at the convenience store and proceeded along Alder Street. He craned his head to the right side of the street as he drew near the site of Ryerson's house. The house was not there. The lot was vacant, filled with freshly-turned earth. From the street, one would think that a structure had never stood there.
Upon Dave's return home, he booted his laptop and performed a search on Blaine Anderson. There were no results. This was baffling considering that he was a local celebrity. Dave knew that he was Student Council President at McKinley, but, checking McKinley's website, he saw Sam Evans' name and photograph in that position. Dave scrolled down the roster of current students at McKinley: Blaine Anderson's name appeared in nowhere on any of the grade levels. Dave checked the last several weeks' events calendar, searching for a mention of that Saturday night concert at the school. There was no mention of it.
There was something repellent about this, Dave thought. On some level, this was maddening, and he didn't want to think about it. He wanted to remove himself from it. Lima had been home for Dave for his entire life, but suddenly it didn't feel like a home should feel. This strengthened Dave's resolve: he needed to be in New York; he needed to be with Kurt. In Kurt, Dave felt he could find a security that would hold no such surprises; in Kurt, Dave felt he could find his home.
