Carole felt as though her powerlessness was going to kill her. It seemed like a living presence in the room, like some palpable thing that was slowly growing, expanding itself until it would finally crush her.

She could see it pressing against Finn, too. When he thought that he was going to have to give up his dreams to become a father, when he found that his girlfriend had cheated on him with his best friend and lied about his being the father, during the bad times with Rachel, he had always seemed to keep some kind of optimism that something would happen and that it would work out.

Blaine moved mechanically as he took on the day's chores, making meals that she forced herself to eat, bringing drinks that she forced down her throat. She could see that giving himself things to do was helping him to stay balanced, at least as balanced as he could.

He had said that might be the only hope they had of even finding out what happened, if somebody they knew might know somebody else more powerful and in a position to know something. She had looked through all her email contacts and on LinkedIn and on her college alumni page, but had found nobody with that kind of money and power.

Finn had left a message with Coach Sylvester, asking her to call him. Maybe she was still in touch with Olivia Newton-John and maybe the singer might know somebody who might help? He kept shaking his head as though he was still trying to wake up.

Rachel's dads were at a legal conference and had promised to go through everybody that they knew. But the ACLU was absolutely powerless against the slavery lobby and human rights and family law attorneys were almost as far removed from the circles of the wealthy and powerful tort and corporate lawyers as she herself was. In Lima, they were something to be reckoned with; in anything bigger, they were practically irrelevant.

She often had to leave the room. She wasn't going to break down in front of her boys. She could see that they were trying to be strong for her and for each other. Instead of saying what he was thinking, Finn sometimes stopped and stared at nothing, while Blaine had become very small and self-contained again, head lowered and making no eye contact.

Finn's phone rang, finally, late that evening. She held her breath as she heard his side of the conversation.

"Thanks, Coach Sylvester."

"Did he say anything?"

"Blaine says he thinks that they might have been taken out of the state. They might even have taken Kurt out of the country."

"Please, anything you can, please, Coach."

"Please, ask her. Anybody else."

"Thanks, Coach. Really."

He looked at them with that same dull stare. "She said she's tried the Governor. He says that it's a high-value property crimes affair so it's in the private tribunal jurisdiction. He couldn't issue a pardon or interfere even if it weren't a security case. He doesn't even have any information." He swallowed. "She's going to try rich people now."

She put her arms around him again and felt him almost shaking with the effort not to break down. "Mom...I just want them back so much..."

"I know, honey." She silently kissed his hair and prayed that whatever he was imagining might be happening to them was easier than the images that were filling her mind. After several moments, he released himself and got up. She followed him with her eyes but understood his need for a few moments of privacy.

"Sweetheart, you look exhausted," she exclaimed, looking at Blaine. "You're still recovering, you know, Blaine, go to bed." She could tell what was on his mind. "I promise, I'll wake you up if we learn anything," and seeing him still unconvinced, played the master card. "They wouldn't want you to get as sick as you were before, you know that." He reluctantly nodded and got up to hug her. The scars on his face seemed darker and deeper from exhaustion and she kissed his cheek.

Alone, she went into the living room to watch the news. She didn't expect anything that would be of any use, but at this point, there was so little information that she didn't dare miss even the possibility. It was nothing but the same coverage of political posturing, celebrity egos on display, and job losses, and she tried not to think of anything, just to watch for anything relevant.

The doorbell rang and she rushed to it. It was late, it couldn't be some random visitor or package. A man she had never seen before stood there. "Excuse me for coming so late, but I'm afraid this is urgent," he apologized. "Does a Kurt Hummel live here?"

"Yes, yes, he does," she began, out of habit. She couldn't help but notice that the man was beautifully dressed and his watch and cuff links must have cost a fortune.

"I believe that he purchased a teenaged boy recently, a dark-haired boy, he's sixteen, is this correct? He might be named Blaine?"

Everything she had been keeping pent up finally burst. "Yes, but now you'll never get near him, I'd rather cut his throat myself than let any one of you ever near him, now get off my property and away from what you have left of my family, you-" He tried to say something but she roared, "Get out of here, now!" She shoved him, hard, and threw him off balance, but then he caught himself and to her rage and disbelief, shoved past her into the house.

"Blaine! Blaine!" His voice sounded almost pained as he shouted, and she paused for just a moment. The door to Blaine's room opened and she yelled to him to get back in there and lock the door, but Blaine didn't even seem to hear her, instead, staring at the man.

"Uncle Peter," he asked, in a tiny, disbelieving voice.

"Blaine? It's really you?" As quickly as the cast on the foot would let him, Blaine was rushing to the man, who was standing stupefied, then held his arms out as he crossed the room to hold him as if he would never let him go.

Finn had heard the noise and come down the stairs, standing at the foot. She still didn't understand what was happening, but gestured for him not to say anything as she watched the two clinging to one another. Blaine was almost burrowing into the man's chest and the man—his uncle?-was holding into him, entirely unabashed, maybe even not aware of the tears flowing freely down his face.

"Blaine, I'm so sorry, so sorry I didn't find you until now."

"You're not angry with me any more?" Blaine looked up at him, suddenly uncertain.

"Angry with you? Why should I be?"

"They said...they said that you and the rest of the family blamed me, that none of you ever wanted to see me any more, that was why you didn't..."

"No, Blaine, who told you that? The police said you were dead, you and your father drowned when the car went into the river. I...I don't know why but I never gave up, not even when divers found what they said were your bodies, I kept hiring detectives to look for you. Blaine, I'm sorry, but your father is dead, he was executed."

"I know, it was my fault, that's why I thought you didn't want to see me or to ransom-"

"What do you mean it was your fault, you were eight, it had nothing to do with you."

"But at the tribunal, they told me that if I testified, they'd let us go...and so I said everything they told me to say, I knew it was all lies...but then they killed him and sold me and told me that nobody in the family wanted to see me ever again because I'd betrayed him..."

"Oh, Blaine, no...no, it wasn't like that at all..." He put his hand under Blaine's chin and raised his face so that Blaine was looking him in the eyes. "They lied to you and to us. None of this is your fault, baby boy, none of it. I've been looking for you ever since." He ran his fingers across the scars. "What happened to you?"

"It's...it was really bad, for a while." Blaine swallowed hard. "But Kurt saved me and...Uncle Peter! You have to help them, please! Kurt saved my life and brought me home and now you have to help him and his father, they've been caught and they're going to be sold or maybe they already are."

"Wait a second, Blaine, tell me from the start." Blaine started to gulp and Carole gently steered them to the sofa.

"I...they sold me to, to people who used me...they used me for sex and...the last one told me that he was getting bored with me, if I didn't learn how to be more...enthusiastic, he'd sell me to a brothel...I couldn't, and somebody from one of the houses came to...to look at me...I found a chance to run away before he sold me, but I couldn't go to any of the shelters, I was just hiding and I got sick...the police found me and brought me back to him, that was when he did this..." Blaine raised a hand to his face and his uncle closed his eyes in misery. "They...they tied me up in a trashbag and threw me out, they figured that I'd die but I think somebody secretly sold me to a dealer, I woke up there. I was too sick to sell, after all, so the dealer was going to kill me, he actually had the gun out, but Kurt stopped him and bought me, and he and his family made me part of the family, but now Kurt and his father, they were involved in smuggling slaves out, but they got caught. The exact same thing happened, the police said they were dead, but we guessed it was a lie, and now Kurt and his father are going to be sold, or maybe they already have been..."

He'd been nodding as he held Blaine and listened to the story. "Of course. I'll get the people who found you onto it. I swear I'll help them if it's humanly possible." He met Carole's eyes over Blaine's head. "I've got money, and if money doesn't do it, I came prepared to bring Blaine home no matter what and I'm ready to do anything to help the people who helped him."