Hi all! Here's the next chapter. Hope you like it!:)


Chapter 11: Gone

"Leave him alone."

"Fuck off."

"Not unless you back off, big boy."

It was a determined, steady voice which revealed not a trace of fear or apprehension. The man stood firmly on the ground, glaring steely at the hulking figure who towered almost two heads over him.

"I said, leave him alone."

"Don't push your luck, midget. 'Tis none of your fucking business." The six-foot-five man bent down to meet those unblinking hazel eyes. His lips curved into an ugly sneer as he took a threatening step forward. He was an enormous monstrosity of a man – a cruel hollow shell capable of careless destruction and unrestrained violence. His voice dripped with contemptuous hostility; it was a voice that warned of terrible consequences.

"Now, here's one last civilized message for you before we punch your brains out. Get. The. Fucking. Hell. Out. Of. Here. "

Leave, Blaine. Leave.

The moon cast a pale, ghostly glow over the dark alley. A small skeletal teenager lay crouching on the ground, surrounded by four well-built, muscular men. His longish platinum blonde hair glistened against his ashen washed-out face, appearing almost silvery-white under the moonlight. The translucent canvas of his skin was painted with grotesque patches of deep purple and black. He was reduced to a lifeless specter, a mere ghost of a boy. A sharp, single line of bright red streaked across his bloodless lower lip. His face twisted in an expression of raw, primal pain. His ash-gray eyes screamed in terror.

"He's only a young boy. Why won't you let him off!"

"Not too young to be fucking my brother, apparently. A freak, that's what he is. And this is exactly what he deserves."

"No. He isn't. You are." The voice had risen to a fierce, deep growl. Each syllable was spat out with pure aggression and unmasked disgust. "What you are doing now is deplorable and serves only to reflect your cowardice and ignorance."

Stop talking, Blaine. Please stop.

"How dare you, you fucking son-of-a-bitch – "

"I've called the cops, by the way. Now one little piece of advice – you and your friends better let the poor boy off and scoot away like the sad pathetic cowards you are."

"No one messes with us, dwarf boy. I repeat, no one." A pair of strong muscled arms gripped his shoulders. A flash of uneasiness flickered across his face, but he remained unmoving. He titled his chin up and stared defiantly at his opponent. A pair of narrow dark brown eyes bore into his hazel ones.

Run, Blaine, run. NOW.

It happened all too quickly. A swift punch in the face, a hard kick in the groin. A slam on the jaw, and another one on the stomach. Knees sank to the ground. More kicks and punches rained on the slender back.

The struggles and cries for help were futile. The blows only grew in intensity.

"Weren't you being an arrogant, stubborn little fighter just a moment ago huh? Get up! Stand up like a real man! Why don't you get up on your feet and fight us now? Who's the sad, pathetic one now, eh?"

A large hand grabbed a fistful of dark curls and lifted his head roughly. Blaine met his eyes, his stare vehement and unyielding amidst the searing pain.

"You are. Nothing but a coward. You. Disgust. Me." Blaine spat with every last ounce of energy left in his body. An overpowering metallic taste filled his mouth.

Without another word, the slim figure was hurled against the wall with an immense brute force. A sickening sound pierced the night air as his head hit the concrete. A new splash of colour streaked down the graffittied walls – a startlingly bright crimson.

Round the corner, no more than ten feet away, a man stood rooted to the ground. His facial features were contorted in desperation and helpless horror. His mouth hung open in a soundless scream.

The curly-haired man slumped against the wall. With trembling fingers, he picked up the broken watch that had fallen to the ground during the struggle earlier. He brushed a thumb over the cracked glass and pressed a finger against the familiar word engraved on the metal.

Courage.

It had been reduced to a mere shadow of a shattered past. It was all starting to ebb away. For both of them.


The world was spinning. He felt his head throb painfully. The sound of a ticking clock gradually became louder as it shifted from a tranquil rhythm to a fast, almost erratic racket.

Air rushed out from his lungs. He screamed, but only in his head. No sound escaped his lips. A silent blackness ensued.


"What in Gaga's name was that, Artie! Why did you bring me back here! And why the fucking hell did you stop me from moving! Did you even see how he looked? He was so terribly beaten up and there I was, not able to do anything to save him except to desperately attempt to send brain signals to urge him to run away? Blaine could die, Artie, and all I could do was to stand frozen a few metres away watching my boyfriend writhe in pain? Watching blood gush out from the back of his head? Watching him slip into unconsciousness? Watching him lying there, helpless and vulnerable and alone? And what happened to Blaine in the end? Did someone find him in the alley? Was he sent to the hospital in time? Oh my Gaga please tell me he didn't die! You.. If you had allowed me to help him this wouldn't have happened!"

"Woah.. calm down, Kurt – "

"Calm down? After all that I've witnessed, standing in the background as an utterly useless, unhelpful, passive bystander, you expect me to calm down? Not knowing what happened to my boyfriend after he was brutally attacked and bleeding profusely, you expect me to calm down? Do you have any idea how this tears me apart, Mr ever-so-cool-headed scientist? Being physically present, watching everything unreel before your very eyes, waiting fearfully for what is to come, knowing exactly what tragic events would follow but not being the least bit able to warn him in any way possible? Can you ever imagine this psychological torment of frustration and guilt and soul-splitting agony? No, you can't. And so, please, you have no fucking right to tell me to calm down!"

The words shot out of his mouth, shrill and harsh and rapid. His throat felt constricted with a sharp, scraping pain. He glared irately at the bespectacled man in the white lab coat. His body shook with a boiling caudron of rage, panic, and fear.

"Please, Kurt. Why don't you stop pacing around the lab and take a seat here. I'll try to explain it all to you and hopefully you'll understand -"

"Right. Please do. I'm positively itching to know what mighty force possessed you to do what you did. Which I must add, was completely ridiculous and insane and un-understandable and – "

"Hummel, you wouldn't have been able to help anyway, even if I did not stop you from running towards Blaine. Those are four strong thugs we are talking about. "

"I could distract them or something. Or call the cops."

"Pointless. Blaine had already did. But there was no way the cops could have reached there that quickly. And you wouldn't be able to change the outcome, Kurt. You would only get hurt if I didn't freeze you there on the spot. And God knows what would become of you.. "

"But there must be something I could have done to help him – "

" You can't change the eventual outcomes of events of the past, my friend. Things that are meant to happen would happen regardless of any attempts to alter the outcomes. Not only would such interventions fail to change the course of events, there might even be disastrous consequences involved. I told you that right from the start."

"Why did you bring me back?"

"Midnight. The machine was programmed to allow you to time-travel only up to the day before Blaine disappeared. You have to return to the present by midnight. There was no other option."

"Can't we reprogramme it now? I need to know... I- I can't survive a single moment without knowing whether he's okay, whether he's safe and sound, whether he's still alive..." Kurt's voice escaped his throat as a choked, pained sob. He buried his face in his palm but it failed to muffled the sound. His cries echoed through the enormous lab.

"I'm sorry.. I can't do that right now, Kurt. I'm really sorry. It'll take at least another three months to re-programme it." Artie placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Is- Is there any way to find out where Blaine is right now? Do you know what happened to him after that?"

"To say the truth, I have no idea but– "

"Then what am I going to do now, Artie? Please, please tell me what I should do. I've tried all ways and means to contact Blaine and his family over the past three years but there was not a single tiniest bit of news..."

"Wait, let me finish my sentence, Kurt. Listen, this may be a piece of good news for us - I received a mysterious email a while ago when you were still back there in year 2018. It was a really vague message but I think there's hope that it may lead us to where Blaine is. Now, give me a sec..."

Artie tapped a couple of keys on his keyboard and a message appeared on the screen.

To: ArtielovesBrit

From: Charles-Trentson

Date: 21-09-2021

Time: 21:39

Dear Sir,

I apologize for this abrupt email. I am aware that you have allowed a friend to travel back to the past. I'm not too sure what he seeks but I think I may have an answer to what he is searching for. It's all too complicated to explain over an email. If it is not too inconvenient for you, please meet me at Greenwood Hospital, Boston, as soon as possible. You may refer to the email attachment for the detailed address.

I believe I'll be able to be of some help. Hope to see you soon.

Charles.