Blaine's gaze shifted to a nervous Kurt in the passenger seat of the car. "Do you want me to come in with you?"

"No, no…I just, do you ever have that feeling, you know, when something's not right?"

Blaine nodded. "I know." And he could feel it too.

Kurt was on the edge of breathless babbling and Blaine just kept looking straight at him so he wouldn't melt completely. "And Dave said we couldn't trust what his parents said, so I'm not even sure how much good this is going to do."

"Okay, first, just breathe," Blaine recommended, as much for his benefit as anything. This was the last lead they really had and Blaine was beginning to wonder what had happened with a slight mounting panic. It certainly wasn't good, whatever it was. "Then remember what I said about his dad. Even if they lie, you're bound to find some sort of half-truth. Something that will make this okay. If our priority is going to be Dave's safety at this moment, then we need to remember that and keep our wits about us."

"Okay," Kurt nodded. "Okay."

Kurt reached for his door handle and opened, hesitating but getting out of the car. He knew that at least someone was home because of the soft yellow lights of the Karofsky house, but he didn't know who. He'd much prefer Paul, because he thought he could get some sort of straight answer and because they had at least met once before (even if it wasn't on great terms). Kurt could still see Paul's eyes when he was leaving Dave's room in the hospital, passing him in the hallway with a cup of presumably cold coffee in his hand and that glazed-over stare. A stare that Kurt saw when he dreamed nightmares.

"On second thought," Kurt added as he turned back towards Blaine, "why don't you come in with me?"

Blaine rang the doorbell and looked around the porch. The porch itself was bare, save for a few strands of weed creeping through the bricks. There was the sound of movement and then Paul Karofsky opened the door just slightly, blocking anyone from seeing most of the inside of the house.

"Yes?" It took him a moment to register Kurt and Blaine. "Oh, you're from David's old school. Is there anything I can do for you tonight? Raising money for the booster club?"

"Mr, Karofsky," Kurt began, "do you remember me? I was…"

"Oh, of course we would!" Paul continued as though Kurt hadn't said anything at all, "But David's at Mount Carmel now and we wouldn't want to be showing support to the wrong team…" Paul began trying to close the door.

"Wait, Mr. Karofsky," Kurt began with a bit of panic, "we know David's not at Mount Carmel."

Paul stopped closing the door and whispered low, "You need to get back in your car and drive away, Kurt."

"Mr. Karofsky, with all due respect…" Blaine tried to interject.

Paul's voice didn't hold any malice, it didn't sound like a threat, but there was still the implication that there was something wrong. "And take him with you."

The door almost shut when a piercing female voice piped in. "Paul, who's at the door?"

Paul's entire body stopped moving, just sort of looking past Kurt and Blaine as though he hoped they'd disappear. "No one, Mother Lillian."

"Come now," she continued unabated, "I know you're talking to someone and lets not play games. Open the door and invite the young callers in."

"Yes, Mother Lillian." Paul stated blandly and opened the door, moving so that Kurt and Blaine could enter the Karofsky home. "Please, come in boys."

Kurt moved forward first, Blaine following. The house was eerie, looking entirely normal and free from mess or stain but there was a fog of feeling the suffocated the entire place. It was unsettling and Blaine found that his hand was trembling in spite of itself.

Lillian Karofsky sat perched on the edge of a recliner that faced the hall. She was a tall woman, dour and wearing a faded shawl that might have been red, orange, and yellow at one point and now was merely a faded and dingy shade of browns. Her face was thin and long and she was hunched over as though she were a preying mantis. Her fingers were clutched around a cane made of dark oak that steadied her position in the chair. "Good evening, gentlemen. To what do we owe this call? Are you friends of my grandson from his former secondary school?"

"Yes, ma'am," Kurt responded first, moving forward to shake Lillian's hand and gave a slight bow while doing so as though he were curtseying before a queen. "My name is Kurt Hummel and this is my-"

"Best friend, Blaine Anderson." Blaine interjected, moving next to Kurt and taking Lillian's hand at the appropriate moment.

Lillian nodded imperiously. "Ah! So you've come to do some fundraising for the football program, have you?"

"No. We're not on the football team," Blaine reacted, "well, you were."

"Yes," Kurt nodded with a sigh. "I was the kicker my freshmen year when they needed a replacement."

"Good," Lillian answered gruffly, "football is good for young men. Teaches cooperation, trust, and the strength of brute force. All good things for men to learn. You don't play football, young Mr. Anderson?"

"No ma'am," Blaine stated. "I'm far too busy with Glee club and …as secretary of student council."

"Interesting, an academic man supporting the football program. In my day, that kind of thing was simply not done. But this isn't the old days, is it?"

Blaine didn't like the way her eyes flashed when she said "old days". "No ma'am," he defended himself, "there's much more crossover these days and it's very important for clubs to support each other what with the difficult financial times, ma'am."

"I see," Lillian stated, unimpressed. "but I still find it unusual that if you were in football or were so keenly interested in it then you would know that David is now at another school and we intend to support that one solely."

"David's our friend," Kurt answered. "We just haven't seen him in awhile and wanted to make sure he's doing alright. We hear the homework load is very difficult at Mount Carmel and wanted to see if he needed tutoring in anything."

"David's academic scores are impeccable," Lillian replied as though the thought of a tutor were nonsense, "but how sweet of you to lie. Obviously, you are one of those people who thought you could hurt an old lady's feelings with the truth."

"Mother…"

"No Paul," Lillian continued as she slowly rose from the recliner. Her cane was beginning to seem less like a cane and more like a weapon. "I will answer for myself. I am not helpless and senile yet, as much as you would wish it." Her eyes narrowed on Kurt. "I know your type. You're the one. That dainty thing that went after my David and made his life hell, made him think wicked things…"

"I didn't…"

"You then proceeded to brainwash him and the school against his natural urges, the way he was always supposed to be. You destroyed his chance at an impeccable scholastic career and had the audacity to make up wild stories with no back up claim."

Kurt and Blaine backed up half a step. Lillian did not advance while she continued her tirade, just seemed to take up more room. "And through it all you remain unblemished and devoted to the young man whose entire future you destroyed! You come to our house after our dinner hour when we seek solace and prayer and you…."

Lillian's rosary beads, the same dark oak as the cane, swung out from her closed fist and clattered to the floor. No one moved to pick them up. "You-you are the reason! You are the hellspawn, the ruiner! The abomination who…"

"Now Mother Lillian," came a drawl that closed the tirade down for a moment. It was a youngish woman, speech still slightly slurred. She came around the corner and the first thing Blaine thought is how strikingly strong and feminine she had looked once. Her hair was three different shades of red, but not an obnoxious red as much as a cascade of amber. It looked drenched and greasy, as though she had been forced under the shower a couple of days ago but hadn't taken much care with it.

The scent followed closely and the tinkering of the ice in the empty glass gave her away. Nora Karofsky was not sober. The effects of alcohol did nothing for her complexion either, drawing the lines in closer with her crows feet and the furrows on her brow. It was clear that Dave favored his father more than her, but there was something in her walk that reminded Kurt of Dave.

Nora's voice was low and deadly like a hissing rattlesnake. "They're just boys. They don't mean any harm. You remember being young, don't you?"

"Yes," Lillian's voice was like a sharp arrowhead fresh from an archeological dig and caused Blaine to flinch just slightly in his left arm. It went mostly unnoticed. 'I remember being young. I remember rules, Nora. Like rules about drinking."

"Oh, but mother, you insisted."

"I insisted a healthy amount, young lady, nothing more. You were allowed to take it too far."

"Mother Lillian, please…"

"Shut up, Paul. I will tell you when I am finished and I am not finished yet. Now back to you two." Her gaze moved from Nora to Paul and finally settled on Kurt, whose resolve was slowly falling like a soufflé in a thunderstorm. "You've told nothing but lies since you got here and I see no reason to pay anything back in kind but lies. However, I am a better person. I will tell you that David has been taken to a place where you can't get to him."

"Ha! Where you can't get to him," Nora echoed.

A little twist of a grin played across Lillian's face. "Thank you, Nora. I believe they get the point."

"If I may, Mrs. Karofsky."

"You may not!" Her voice clipped the air, as though the audience were over. "You just stay away from this family, both of you. All of that school can stay away. You've done enough damage and young David will never see either of you again!"

"You ruined him," Nora cried out, dropping her glass into the carpet. It landed with a soft thud instead of a shatter, which did not seem to satisfy her. "You ruined my baby boy!"

Paul was there just in time, shielding Kurt and Blaine from Nora's staggered running leap down the hallway. There was a sound of something breaking, though whether it was Nora or Paul was unknown. Paul's face gave a tiny grimace. "Please, please just go. My son's already going through enough because of you."

But Paul's sentence was less accusatory and more pleading. Whatever they were hiding, Kurt could see that nothing would have come of this but disaster will Lillian and Nora here. He took Blaine's hand as Blaine reached for the doorknob, the grasp hidden from the view of the bigoted women.

The air was cold and refreshing outside the home and there was still the sound of someone shouting coming from inside the house. Blaine exhaled once. "Wow. That was…"

Kurt finished the thought, "a little crazy. Like a Dali painting."

"No, I think Dali would've freaked out in there too. You did great."

Kurt shook his head, heading for the car. His pace wasn't leisurely. "No. No, now I'm just more worried than I was before. Those kind of words were powerful, that kind of fear. Where do you think they sent him?"

Blaine thought for a moment and then shrugged. He censored himself from saying Nowhere good. "Well, maybe Dave will call you again once he's settled."

Kurt was exhausted, crumpling into his seat without closing the door or buckling his seatbelt. "Should we report him missing or wait for another call? Should I ask dad what he thinks?"

Blaine took a pause to weigh the options. "Let's give it another day or two and believe in Dave. Look, you've got Mercedes and Quinn worried and praying enough already for everyone and we've got people ready with resources. We know he's not a suicide risk, although living in a house with those three might make even me consider that."

"Don't joke…"

"Not a joke," Blaine stated as he tried to face facts, "The worst case scenario is that missing persons brings him back here and they just send him away again, knowing that you and I are worried about him. I think at this point, we would only make it worse. Harder."

Kurt shook his head. "I can't, I can't leave it like this."

"What are you thinking, Kurt?"

Kurt bit down on his bottom lip. "Something proactive. Anything, which is better than nothing." He sat up in the seat and popped open the glove box. He rummaged under insurance paperwork and cd cases for a the spiral notebook they kept in case they had song ideas. Kurt ripped out a clean page and then grabbed for a pen in the back cup holder. It took him just minutes to write out the note. He folded and addressed it.

"Paul's the only one in the house who cares about Dave as a human right now. So we'll leave him what we know and hope for the best."

"Leave it where?"

Kurt pointed with the pen as he wrote Paul's name across the folded portion. "In the mailbox. It seems like they would make him check the mail."

"And if not?"

"I've got a feeling that whatever got Dave to New Orleans would come to light anyways. At least this time, we might be part of the conversation."