Author's Note: Welcome to another, albeit much shorter, chapter. This story has been difficult for me to write, especially at this point in the plot, causing me to relive my own memories of my mother's passing. Don't worry - Burt isn't going to die - but I recall vividly those hours in the hospital, not being told anything, wondering what was going on, if my mother was in any pain, and somehow knowing what was to come. It's hard for me to separate those memories with this story, so it's slow-going and I ask for your patience. I struggled to make the chapter length comparable to the others, but it didn't feel right in this particular circumstance, so I didn't bother. I hope you enjoy it.

After metaphorically crucifying Mercedes, Tina decided she had to atone for her behavior, though not necessarily to Mercedes herself. The fact of the matter was that she was still too angry at the girl, too fearful of what would happen to Burt, and too resentful of Mercedes and Finn's attempts at martyrdom to apologize. The words would have been empty, and she wasn't one to offer worthless platitudes to make herself, or anyone else, feel better.

The person who needed help was Kurt, so she was going to help him whether he liked it or not. He probably wouldn't like it, she knew, so she decided to couch her helpfulness in allegedly assisting others. She called Brittany, who told her that Puck's mother had returned home from work, and they hatched a plan.

Tina drove to Puck's house, which was not too far from her own, and then followed Brittany, who was driving Santana's car, to Santana's house. Brittany exited the borrowed car, fled into Tina's arms, and then proceeded to sob about her dolphin for several long moments. Rather than give in to her own emotions, Tina took strength from Brittany's breakdown to shore up her own insecurities before shepherding the other girl into the Lopez mansion, to which Brittany had a key.

They went to Santana's room and gathered for her a change of comfortable clothes. At the last minute, Brittany remembered Kurt had left some things from the most recent Cheerio sleepover, which had taken place the previous term. They were only sweats, which all of the cheerleaders had been shocked to discover Kurt even owned, but they were sure he'd be grateful for the option. Leather pants, though absolutely delicious on Kurt Hummel, were not meant to be worn all day.

They locked up behind them, left Santana's car for her, and Tina hightailed it to the Lima Bean, calling to check in with her mother on the way. Tina's mother was hysterical, which was no surprise, considering she loved Kurt as her own and had been on the phone with Sheila Abrams for the past half hour. Their children might no longer be dating, but they still had Kurt in common.

That was kind of weird to consider, actually, that both her mother as well as Artie's treated Kurt as though he were their second child. Taken in conjunction with the fact that Tina and Artie had dated, it made the entire affair seem somewhat incestuous, and Tina couldn't help but examine more closely her new relationship with Mike. That led to some unwelcome comparisons to Finn and Quinn, Finn and Rachel, Quinn and Puck, and Puck and Rachel.

Tina had absolutely no interest in becoming another New Directions statistic, and she planned on addressing that problem with Mike as soon as possible. They would learn from the mistakes of the others.

It took almost ten minutes for Tina to talk her mother down and convince her that storming the hospital was in no one's best interest. She disconnected and then pulled into the parking lot.

They entered the shop, placed a coffee order large enough to fuel a small banana republic, and debated the relatively few foodstuffs available.

"Kurty would never eat any of this," Brittany said, wrinkling her nose at the glass display cases.

Tina nodded. "They have organic nutrition bars."

"Get a few," Brittany said. "I'll make sure he eats them."

Tina nodded once more, positive that Brittany would somehow find a way to keep her word. The girl was not above playing, or perhaps even preying, upon Kurt's guilt; and if she were to become upset because Kurt wasn't taking care of himself, he was sure to feel guilty indeed. Just as Kurt had the power to get Artie to do anything, Brittany held that same power over Kurt.

As if reading her mind, Brittany turned toward Tina. "How's Artie?" she asked softly.

"Angry," Tina quietly replied. "Hurt. Frustrated."

Brittany nodded miserably.

Tina gave her a gentle smile. "Right after I told him, his second concern, after Kurt, was for you."

Brittany's eyes welled. "I knew they were best friends, but it's more than that, isn't it?"

Tina nodded. "Even if Mrs. Hudson marries Uncle Burt, Finn will be Kurt's brother in name only. Artie has always, and always will, hold that title. They would not only die for each other, but kill for each other."

Brittany nodded solemnly. Her relationship with Santana, whatever that was right now, was similar. Anyone who hurt one would earn the eternal wrath of the other.

She bit her lip. "How do you think Kurt is doing? Really?"

Tina exhaled slowly. "I'm sure it's killing him, but he'll never show it. Not to me, not to Artie, not to you, not to anyone, except possibly..."

"Quinn."

Tina nodded, her surprise obvious. Although, she reconsidered, perhaps she shouldn't have been. If she had learned anything in the past few days, it was that Brittany had more moments of sheer genius and calculated connivance than she ever would have believed possible.

The girl was obviously intelligent. Tina had, on some level, always known this, but had likened Brittany to some kind of eccentric mad scientist. Now, however, she was forced to reconsider her perceptions and wonder if they were, in fact, preconceptions. Oh, she was quite sure that Brittany had some bats in her belfry, but she doubted there were as many roosting as Brittany would have most people presume.

Her manipulation of Kurt regarding Peterson had been a sight to behold. The only thing more impressive was that Kurt had been aware of the machinations and authorized them, which meant Kurt was probably a direct descendent of Machiavelli, which was just awesome.

"They get each other," Brittany said, shrugging a shoulder. "I know what you mean about Artie and Kurt being brothers, but Kurty and Quinn have, like, a mind-twin thing."

Tina nodded again.

"Should we pick her up, too?" Brittany asked.

Tina hesitated. "I don't think so," she finally said. "I'm pretty certain Sylvester or Pillsbury asked Kurt who he wanted to go with him. He chose Puck and Santana, and there's a reason for that."

Brittany tugged on her ponytail. "Probably the god thing," she said. "Quinn gets super-religious when she's scared or angry, and Kurty doesn't like that." She nodded. "Okay, no Quinn." She handed the clerk her credit card. "What else can we do?"

"We should probably avoid Kurt at all costs," Tina sadly replied. "It's likely he doesn't want anyone with him. It was one thing for Santana and Puck to take him, but now that he knows what's going on, what he can expect, he probably wants to be alone." She nodded to herself. "In fact, I bet he chose them specifically because he knew they would leave him alone."

Brittany bit her lip and nodded again. "You'll probably have to stop me from killing Finn."

Tina snorted. "Right now, I'm sure either his mother or his own conscience is punishing him far better than we ever could." She sighed. "The thing is, Finn likes Kurt. I mean, he really likes him. I don't know if he likes Kurt as a friend or something more, and Finn doesn't know that either. He's scared, so he lashes out at the person who's causing the confusion."

"But that's not fair," Brittany said quietly. "You can't make someone like you. If Finn likes Kurt, that's on him. No one can make you gay."

"I think Finn knows that," Tina said, "but knowing and understanding are two different things."

Brittany glared at the barista. "Boys are stupid," she savagely announced. "Except for Kurt."

Tina smiled, nodded, grabbed their purchases, and shepherded Brittany out to the parking lot.

Burt's surgery was expected to go for at least another hour.

Finn restlessly paced about the waiting room, much to the annoyance of everyone else, who did their best to ignore him. Santana and Puck did so only out of deference to Kurt, sensing he was too close to an edge from which they would not be the ones to push him. Part of Carole wanted to send her son home, as she knew he was fraying the nerves of the others, but worried what Finn would do without her supervision.

She knew he felt responsible and guilty. She also knew she couldn't absolve him of those emotions and that he would continue to feel them regardless of any comforting words she could offer. The truth of the matter was that she was very angry with Finn. She didn't hold him accountable for Burt's stroke, but she also couldn't help but wonder how much of Finn's behavior might have contributed to it.

She repressed a sigh and said another silent prayer.

Santana, after suitably distracting Puck with a Highlights magazine, sat with her legs crossed and arms folded defensively across her chest.

She hated hospitals.

She respected her mother, a doctor who literally saved lives every single day, but she herself hated hospitals. Every time she had stepped foot in this building, it was the specter of Death that grabbed her attention, not the miraculous operations and innovative treatments that shined a spotlight on the best of what medicine could offer.

Hospitals reminded her of when she was ten and her brother died. They reminded her of when she was twelve and her mother had a miscarriage. They reminded her of her first HIV test, after which she had never again engaged in unsafe sex.

But she would sit here until Kurt no longer wished her to do so, leaving as soon as he asked. He had had too many choices taken from him in the past few days, and she wouldn't be the one to take another. Besides, she well understood his need to grieve and regret and bargain in solitude.

She narrowed her eyes as that idiotic social worker began circling their little cabal as though she were a shark. If the stupid bitch made another power play, Santana herself would be leading the revolt. Despite what he may have insisted, Kurt was too fragile right now.

She vaguely registered the dinging of the elevator, but paid it no mind until Kurt abruptly leapt to his feet and began charging toward the doors.

"Aunt Cam!" he exclaimed, voice fraught with tension and anguish.

Santana raised her head and an interested brow, curious as to this previously unknown aunt. Kurt had dropped the woman's name a few times, but none of them had ever gotten the feeling that he was especially close to the woman.

As Camille Saroyan enveloped her nephew in her arms, Santana's eyebrows skyrocketed.

The woman was beautiful. Dressed in slim dark-washed jeans, a fitted white Oxford, and black patent leather spiked heels, she was both petite and voluptuous. A lightweight black leather blazer completed an ensemble which was at once both classic and trendy. Her long ebony hair was worn down, and Santana had never seen a woman look so good with bangs.

Camille Saroyan was also black.

Kurt Hummel, the whitest white boy to ever white, had a black aunt.

A black biological aunt.

Santana was annoyed at her own surprise. She was annoyed Kurt had never mentioned that his aunt was black, despite the fact that she knew he had a tendency not to focus on stereotypical hallmarks used to classify people. He had never made mention of the races of Matt, Mercedes, Tina, or Mike. He'd never made mention of Santana's own ethnicity, or of Puck and Rachel's Jewish identities. He recognized them, of course, but they really had no impact on him.

Kurt was often blind to that which caused so much attention, probably because he had been judged so often and solely on his sexuality. He didn't care about things like race or creed, and while he respected the differences amongst his friends and acquaintances, he was very much a part of that post-deconstructionalist trend which tended to judge the individual on their merit rather than their makeup.

And judge people, Kurt did. However, his judging could be boiled down to one salient point: whether or not one was an asshole. If a person was an asshole, Kurt wanted nothing to do with them, which explained why he had almost never spoken to Puck or Quinn until the last year. After Quinn and Puck had been put through their travails, arguably emerging as better people, Kurt embraced them.

Santana didn't know how that explained Finn - or even herself, for that matter - but she supposed even Kurt was entitled to a few mistakes.

She shook her head to clear it and watched as Kurt raised his head and blinked uncertainly at a huge man who was towering over him.

"Uncle Seeley?" he asked in a confused voice.

In reply, the man bent down and actually picked Kurt up, balancing the boy on his hip. Kurt turned extremely red and buried his face in Seeley's shoulder as his legs automatically wound around the man's waist.

"I'm not a little boy anymore!" an indignant Kurt squawked in protestation, despite all evidence to the contrary.

"You'll always be my baby boy," Seeley cooed.

Kurt groaned and dropped his chin on to the man's shoulder.

Camille rolled her eyes. "Seeley, stop being...you."

He gave her a sullen glare and deposited Kurt back on the ground, beaming when a shy Kurt held on to his hand.

Santana took a moment to look at the others.

Puck, unsurprisingly, was staring at Camille as though dinner had been served. Santana was sure he'd be punished at a more appropriate time, especially given the narrowing of Kurt's eyes, which suggested to her he had noticed Puck's unsubtle attentions.

Finn, also unsurprisingly, was all but frothing at the mouth that some unknown man was touching Kurt.

Carole looked absolutely baffled by the entire display.

Santana then looked at her mother, who was smirking back at her.

Huh.

All these years, Santana had believed she had inherited her smirk from her lawyer father, but no.

Her mom really was awesome.

Kurt rambled semi-coherently about everything that had happened as Camille took note of the signs of physical exhaustion he was exhibiting. His posture was rather poor and his shoulders hunched, which was so far from the nephew she knew as to be alien. There was a reason Seeley's old nickname for Kurt had been Wadsworth.

Violent purple smudges were just beginning to set in under his eyes, which were dull and lifeless. Those eyes were slightly red, but there was no indication Kurt had been crying. Knowing him, he was probably holding it in until he was alone. She repressed a sigh. One of the things she liked least about her nephew was how abnormally controlled he was, at least where his own emotions were concerned.

She disliked it precisely because he had inherited it from her. She didn't like to be reminded of her own foibles.

She studied Kurt, who had all but glued himself to Seeley's side. It was only now Camille could admit, albeit silently, how grateful she was that Seeley had insisted on coming with her.

Seeley and Kurt were a strange pair. They had absolutely nothing in common except for a fondness for Camille herself. They looked nothing alike. Seeley was very Catholic and Kurt was most definitely...not. Seeley was smart, particularly about people and their motivations, but Kurt was practically a genius, even if his IQ score didn't definitively state as much.

Kurt, despite living in this tiny, repressive town, was extremely cosmopolitan. He was witty and urbane and sophisticated beyond his years. Seeley, conversely, and despite living in the nation's capital, was pretty much a farmboy who had traded in bib overalls for the black suits required by his employer.

They didn't share political or religious ideologies. They didn't like the same music, television programs, or films. They didn't share a fashion sense. They didn't read the same books.

Yet, somehow, they adored each other.

Camille once believed it was because Seeley in fact shared many traits with Burt Hummel, and thus Kurt had come to view Seeley as a surrogate father, but that didn't exactly make sense. Why go in search of a surrogate father so similar to your own when your own father was right next to you? Granted, she knew that Kurt and Burt's relationship had been strained at times, but they were absolutely devoted to each other.

Perhaps it was because Seeley had been the first adult male who had recognized and accepted Kurt's sexuality. Seeley had known since Kurt was a child that the boy was gay. Of course, Burt had, as well, but had trouble reconciling it.

It always surprised Camille just how nonjudgmental Seeley was when it came to Kurt. Although not racist, Seeley did have his prejudices, and he certainly had never been politically correct. Despite the fact that they had dated, Camille had heard him make off-color remarks about blacks. And Jews. And Protestants. And Asians. And gays. And everyone else. It was just his way, and it was only the fact that he truly didn't mean any offense that kept him from being beaten like a piñata.

Kurt, for whatever reason, however, had always been exempt from Seeley's mocking humor. Camille didn't know why. She would have considered it was because of Parker, Seeley's son, and that perhaps he could see Kurt in place of Parker...

But that didn't make sense. Kurt was almost a decade older than Parker, who hadn't even been born when she and Seeley had dated.

Maybe it was just Kurt. People tended to become very defensive of him. She certainly was.

So she let Seeley coddle her nephew while she studied the others who had stepped forward. She didn't know who any of them were. The heart of the matter was that she and Kurt were not that close, despite the fact that they loved each other deeply. Part of it was that Camille had never been comfortable around children. Another part was that she had always felt awkward and resented by her sister's family, as they were not her own, even though none of them had ever made her feel that way.

Camille Saroyan was the product of an affair between Barbara Babbs and Luc Valois, a married French aristocrat. Luc Valois had been, and continued until his death to be, married to Katrine Delacroix. Luc and Katrine were old French money, though Katrine's family was much wealthier and far more prominent. That basically meant that, while Luc had the pedigree, Katrine had the cash.

Barbara had met Luc during her junior year of college, while studying abroad in France. Camille didn't know most of the details, her mother had never told her, but her parents had met at a jazz club in the Marais one night in April, during which a tipsy Barbara, spurred on by her giggly fellow students, stood up and performed an impromptu number with the band.

Luc had been instantly smitten, and Barbara, young and idealistic and very sheltered, had fallen hopelessly in love. Their affair was torrid but brief, resulting in Camille.

Camille wanted to hate the older married man who had seduced her very young mother, who had left her alone and pregnant while he went back to his wife and their château.

It wasn't that easy, however.

Barbara had told Camille the truth only on her deathbed, right before Camille was to start medical school, and only because Luc was long dead.

That truth was that Luc had never known he had fathered a child with Barbara, not until long after the fact. Barbara had returned to the United States, finished college a semester early, had her baby, and then fallen in love with Anthony Saroyan, who had adopted Camille without a second thought. They went on to have a second daughter, Felicia.

When Camille was nine, she developed aplastic anemia, an autoimmune disease in which the bone marrow does not produce sufficient new cells to replace red blood cells. She had needed a bone marrow transplant and no one in her family had been a match. Barbara had reached out to Luc, who came to the United States, donated, and then quietly left. Camille recovered and dedicated her life to medicine.

Camille had never been told the identity of her donor and lived in blissful ignorance until her mother was dying of cancer. Barbara then told her of her biological father, their history, and that Luc had left her a large trust fund upon his death.

She had never received the answers she so desperately needed. Why hadn't her mother told Luc sooner about their child? Why hadn't Luc revealed himself to his daughter before his death? Why had he never claimed her? Had he ever wanted her, loved her?

She didn't know, and Barbara didn't have the answers. All Barbara knew was that Luc had saved their child's life and had provided for her.

Camille had resolved that she had no desire for children of her own.

Then Barbara had died and the trust was left to Camille to oversee. Katrine Valois had somehow learned this and contacted her, revealing that Camille had a half-sister, Suzanne, who lived in the United States.

Camille hadn't wanted anything to do with these people. She wasn't a charity case. She already had a family. She had a promising career ahead of her.

She had tried to give back the money, but Katrine refused. If Camille never wanted to spend the money, fine, but it would always be waiting for her.

Camille went on to finish medical school and began working for the State of New York. She was dating Seeley Booth and enjoying it quite a bit. And then Katrine had contacted her once more. Suzanne was dying.

Camille didn't know how she was supposed to process this information. She had a biological sister whom she had never met, and that sister was now dying and wanted to meet her. That sister was married and had a young child and lived a short plane ride away.

Camille hadn't cared; it was Seeley who had changed her mind.

He had argued, quite convincingly, that despite Camille's sense of abandonment where Luc was concerned, regardless of the facts at hand, Suzanne had had nothing to do with any of it. She had barely begun talking when Camille was born. She had grown up believing she had no siblings. She had gone to school, married, had a child, and was dying. She wanted to meet her only sister. How could Camille deny her that?

She couldn't. So she had gone to Ohio and met Suzanne, who had been a beautiful, kind, and generous woman who embraced her with an immediate ferocity.

Camille paused in her reminisces as she blinked back tears.

It was so unfair.

It was so unfair that her sister, her lovely sister, had died before they had ever truly gotten to know each other. It was unfair that Suzanne had grown up alone. It was unfair that Camille had felt more of a connection to Suzanne in those brief weeks than she ever had in a lifetime with Felicia.

It was unfair that Burt had lost his wife. It was horrifying that Kurt had lost his mother.

Kurt.

And, now, he might be facing it again.

Camille pulled Kurt from Seeley, who squawked with protest, and wrapped her arms around her nephew.

"I'm okay," Kurt whispered.

"Bullshit," she said quietly, "but I'm here for you."

"You always have been, Aunt Cam," he said, "and I've always known that."

She swallowed heavily. The truth was that she had been a shit aunt who had buried herself in her work to escape the soap opera of her family. She had promised Suzanne that she would always look out for Kurt, and in some ways, she supposed she had. She had never forgotten a birthday or holiday. She always took time for his calls. Always answered his emails.

But the onus of continuing their relationship had always fallen to Kurt, and Camille knew that wasn't fair, that it was wrong, that she was the adult. It wasn't that she resented him or didn't love him - she loved him so much that it frightened her. It frightened her to know she was capable of that much emotion.

She didn't know Kurt. She knew that he liked singing and that he was a in a glee club, but she had never heard him sing. She knew that he was incredibly intelligent, but had no idea as to his favorite subjects or professional plans. The only friend of his she had ever met was Artie Abrams, and that was almost a decade ago. She didn't know if Kurt had a boyfriend or even if he had started dating.

She didn't know anything of absolutely any import and had never really asked. She was absolutely appalled with herself.

Yet Kurt wasn't. He loved her. He was grateful she was here, she could tell.

She would do better by her nephew, she vowed.

She pulled back from him when an impatient throat cleared itself. She turned around to see a young Latina glaring at her.

Camille raised a brow. "Would you like to introduce us to your companions?"

Kurt nodded and smoothly took over. "Of course. This is Santana Lopez, one of my best friends."

Camille noticed the girl's eyes softened unwillingly at the description before the glare reasserted itself. Interesting.

"Her mother, Dr. Lydia Lopez," he continued.

The two women nodded at each other.

"Our friend Noah Puckerman," Kurt added.

Santana scoffed at being referred to as Puck's friend.

"And this is Carole Hudson, Dad's fiancée, and her son, Finn," Kurt finished, averting his eyes. He then cleared his throat. "Please allow me to introduce my aunt, Dr. Camille Saroyan."

Lydia's eyes bulged. "Of the Jeffersonian?" she said incredulously.

Camille nodded politely and extended a hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, Dr. Lopez."

"Aunt Cam is a forensic pathologist and the Director of the Medico-Legal Division of the Jeffersonian Institute," Kurt explained for the benefit of the others. "And this is Special Agent Seeley Booth of the FBI. He and Aunt Cam used to date, and I've always considered him to be my uncle."

Seeley placed a strong hand of support on Kurt's shoulder and nodded to the others, his suspicious gaze lingering on Puck and Finn, both of whom wilted.

Santana looked Camille up and down before turning toward Kurt. "Is she the reason you want to be a doctor?"

Camille balked and looked at her nephew, who was bright red.

"Yeah. How come you never told us that, Princess?" Puck gently asked. "We all thought you wanted to be a big Broadway star." He cocked his head. "When did Dr. Homo become the grand plan?"

Seeley growled. "What did you just say, boy?"

Kurt waved a hand. "That's just Noah, Uncle Seeley. He doesn't mean any offense, and you, more than anyone else, should understand that. Noah's my friend."

Seeley didn't appear to be convinced, and his glower deepened at Finn's snort.

"Right," the other boy said. "He sure was your friend when he was throwing you in the trash every day."

Kurt glared, filled with disbelief that Finn was doing this again. Had he learned nothing in the past twenty-four hours?

"What?" Camille hissed in a low, deadly voice that sent delightful shivers down Santana's spine.

"And you were right there helping him, Hudson," Santana spat, "so shut the fuck up."

"What!" Carole roared.

"Santana, watch your mouth!" Lydia warned.

Santana ignored all of them, looking to Seeley, who, for some reason, she respected. "Here's the rundown: the Puckhole, here, used to bully Rainbow - badly - but he's since reformed. He apologized, and Rainbow, for whatever reason, forgave him." She waved a hand. "Some bullshit about being honestly contrite or something." She shrugged. "Whatever."

She turned her condemning glare on Finn. "But this dickhead was there for all of it, helping and not doing a damn thing to stop it. Even after their parents began dating, Hudson gave Tink nothing but shit. Then he goes to Mr. H last night and tells him that Kurt got lucky while in Europe this summer. Next day, Mr. H has a stroke. You do the math."

"Santana!" Lydia screamed, grabbing her daughter by the arm and hauling her away to scold her in private.

Santana went along gamely, looking over her shoulder and smirking at Finn.

Carole began yelling at her son, interrogating him ruthlessly about Santana's charges, while Seeley listened keenly for whatever information she might unearth. Camille was trying to process this information, wondering why Kurt had never told her.

Meanwhile, Puck looked at Kurt, who had turned chalky, and shook his head angrily.

"Maybe you all should shut the hell up for a minute and remember where we are and why we're here!" he shouted.

He crossed the small space separating them and threw his arms around Kurt, who stood there bewildered and utterly mortified.

Carole blanched and hauled Finn away in the same manner which Lydia had just employed, although rather than grabbing an arm, she went for an ear, causing Finn to yelp.

Puck, knowing his efforts were not doing much, pushed Kurt at Camille, who shook herself from her stupor and shepherded him down the hall.

Seeley stood at attention, glaring at Puck, who sighed.

"What do you want me to say?"

"The truth," Seeley barked. "What the hell has happened to my nephew in this town?"

Camille understood the last thing Kurt needed was to be pressured. She wouldn't do that to him.

Instead, she sought to calm him, and did so by asking him to recite the facts of his father's case as he knew them. Shockingly, it worked, and he offered a quiet and concise, yet thorough, summary of Burt's diagnosis and prognosis. She knew many interns who wouldn't have performed half as well.

She was startled by his knowledge and precocity, but most of all by how eerily he reminded her of herself. His tone was unemotional but guarded, and his grasp of the medical jargon was superlative. She'd had no idea he had been considering a career in medicine, but even this brief interaction suggested that he would do well.

Screw that. He would dominate whatever field he entered, and she was looking forward to it. She couldn't help but feel some small measure of pride, no matter how inappropriate the situation or circumstances. Despite being a lackluster aunt, perhaps she had inspired him on some small scale, and she flushed with triumph.

"Don't ask me about anything Santana said," he softly said. "I've spent the entire summer dealing with it, trying to move past it." He paused. "I suspect I will always have some difficulty with how I've been treated in this town, but I will not be ruled by it. I won't give anyone that kind of power over me."

Camille understood, though she worried. He was so much like her, so controlled and focused, so unwilling to deal with things as they came; rather, he absorbed them and later dissected them in a cold, clinical manner. She knew she couldn't argue with him, with his methods, for they were her own.

She nodded. "And this summer?"

He shrugged mildly. "I went to Europe to visit Katrine and, in the process, fell in love with a wonderful man who treated me like I was something precious, something beautiful and unfathomable to behold. We made love. We admitted our love." His eyes turned distant. "And then it was over. It had to be. Neither of us wanted it to be, but circumstances conspired against us."

He chin began to tremble. "I love you Aunt Cam, and I'm so grateful that you and Uncle Seeley are here, but right now, all I want is him." He shook his head in misery as his tears spilled over. "But I can't have him."

There was nothing she could say. Physicians had spent centuries trying to cure heartbreak and had never developed any surefire method. So she held him and let him cry.