A/N: The last chapter gained 13 reviews! That is truly a dream come true, and I feel like my writing surely pays off... I have 59 reviews you guys – and you're all so sweet and amazing. I am going to disappoint some of you when I say this – but in short month I will start university again, and though I will still update as often as I can, it might not be regularly. But I promise that a chapter will be out at least once a week! Note on the past chapter – I'm so glad that you guys were in on the idea that I didn't split them up 50:50 :) One name will be hinted at in this chapter – so enjoy the return of Rachel. Please enjoy this (filler) chapter!

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21 weeks

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Chapter Thirteen

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As soon as the clicking from Rachel's heels reached the tile-covered floor in the entrance hall, she asked where Blaine was. She looked around, almost as if she was expecting him to emerge from around the corner. She looked puzzled, when Kurt walked over towards her, his arms folded in front of his chest as he leaned against the door-frame. "He's interviewing some kid in juvie."

"Really?" she asked in a surprised voice, placing her oversized shoulder-back on the floor and took of her thin-summer coat. "I thought Mr. Anderson gave him a promotion so that he wouldn't be away from you."

Kurt confirmed Rachel's statement with a soft hum, unfolding his arms and accepted the coat when Rachel handed it to him. He took a hanger from the gallow, and neatly placed the long-jacket upon it, before he hung it back. "But Cooper needed help. I'm pretty sure that Blaine tried to tell me with what, but you know how some men are. They splurge out random facts connected with their work-attire, and then they expect us to understand."

"Mhmm," vocalized Rachel with a knowing smile. "Don't I just know what you mean. It's like Kenneth -one day he's normal and engaging in common conversation and the next he's gushing about Batman and Ninjaman and.. Turtleman!"

"Okay Rachel," Kurt said, holding his hands up in a 'I surrender'-mode. "I may be gay, but I know that Ninjaman and Turtleman are actually called Ninja Turtles. I used to watch it, actually. With my cousin Oden from Wisconsin." They laughed a little bit, before Rachel opened her arms and leaned into a hug with Kurt. "I missed you."

"I know, I've missed you too," cried Rachel, pulling away from Kurt with an overdramatized movement. "I've just been so busy, you know?" Kurt nodded and padded his stomach.

"I know," he said with a wink.

Gesturing towards the kitchen, he asked his guest if they should go further into the house rather than staying in the hall. "Sure."

Slowly waddling ahead, Kurt let Rachel through the dining-room, ending up in the kitchen. "What would you like?" he asked, turning to look at her over his shoulder.

She was about to answer, when she caught sight of her best friend's swollen ankles. Around the small bone, it seemed like gallons of liquid had gathered and with each step her friend took, the skin-tissue wobbled. Instead, she reached out and grabbed his upper arm, stopping him. "You know, I am a capable of cooking."

"Nonsense," declined Kurt, shaking his head from left to right in a few short movements. "You're my guest -it would be rude to make you cook."

Rachel tilted her head slightly to the left, her eyes begging Kurt to please listen. "Go sit down. I mean it, Kurt." Kurt glared at the lower woman, but did as she asked him to none-the-less, earning a small squeal from his friend. He took a seat in a nearby chair, lifting his feet up unto a chair close unto and let out a content sigh as blood again could circulate in his feet. "Tell me about the babies while I prepare this delicious salad for the two of us."

"Well, I had a doctor's appointment a few days ago," Kurt said. He leaned his neck against the top of the chair-back, his head hanging over it slightly. Closing his eyes, he softly rubbed his thumb against a sore lower point on his rounded belly. "They've been kicking ever since that visit."

"I can only imagine having six babies in there, kicking like small kickers -they've definitely got that after their daddy," grinned Rachel, blinking towards Kurt. She opened the fridge, and pulled out a pre-cut salad mix, two tomatoes, a cucumber and some dressing.

Kurt wanted to laugh, but it came out slightly suffocated as one of the babies kicked him into his kidney. "Omph," he grumbled, sitting up a bit. He rubbed it even harder, trying to sooth his restless baby. "She's really going at it today," he muttered, mostly to himself, but it didn't go unnoticed by Rachel. She was in the midst of cutting the cucumber, and stopped mid-cut when she heard the gender-specified statement of her friend's babies.

"She?" she said, her voice pitched a few octaves higher than normally as she spun around with wide eyes. "Oh my goodness, Kurt why didn't you call me immediately once you knew?" she gushed. She took a few quick steps across from the counter towards Kurt, and took a seat in a chair next to him. "So, tell me. How many of each."

Kurt grinned widely, moving into a more comfortable spot on his chair, as he prepared to tell his friend his big news. "I'm having four boys-"

"And two girls!" squealed Rachel, cutting him off mid-sentence. Kurt didn't mind though, he was more used to it than not. Instead he just nodded his head with a grin on his face. "Oh my god, Kurt -you've got to name one after me!"

Kurt chuckled. "I don't know," he said with an overwhelmed voice. "I just -I haven't really talked names with Blaine just yet, but when we've decided, you'll be the first to know."

"It doesn't have to be Rachel," the young Broadway star cut in, her hand held up to prove her point. "Barbra would do just as good."

"Barbra is.. okay, I guess," he replied, a little hesitantly.

Rachel chuckled at the indecisive approach in Kurt's voice, but didn't comment on it. "Wow," she changed the topic, her eyes constantly glued to Kurt's pregnant stomach.

"Yeah," chuckled Kurt, rubbing his belly. "Baby E is just an active little girl today." Rachel nodded her head, and slowly bit the inside of her lip, before she asked Kurt if she could touch. The young man didn't ponder a second regarding his friend's request, and immediately reached out to grab her hand. "Sure, here. Can you feel it?"

The young tenor nodded her head, her eyes wide and slightly scared. "Mhm," she hummed, licking her lips softly. "Can they feel me?"

"I don't know, actually. I like to think that they can, but I know for sure that they can hear me. We already know this one is a papa's girl," he said, softly padding the upper mid-section of his stomach. "She kicks every time papa sings to them. Blaine's ecstatic when she does -it makes him feel closer to them somehow, knowing that he can finally be a part of their lives, while they're still in here."

She pulled her hand away when the kicking faded, and Kurt once again repositioned himself on the chair. He felt uncomfortable in almost every sitting-position known. "Tell me about you. You said that you've been busy -with what?"

Rachel moved away from Kurt, and grabbed the cucumber she'd left on the counter. "I got this part in a Broadway-production," she gushed happily as she sliced the cucumber into small circles. "Nothing major -the lead went to some blond with a mediocre voice, but I dance around on stage quite a lot and I even have a few lines. I call that progress. I haven't been able to get anything since my first role all those years back."

"Well, it's a Broadway-production -you'll take what you can get, I guess. So, when's the opening?"

A loud crack of metal hitting plastic sounded, and a small piece of cucumber catapulted from the cutting board and rolled over the edge of the counter. With three fingers, Rachel bend down and picked up the piece, throwing it into the trash-basket. "In mid-August," she said while on her way up from picking up the cucumber. "I could probably get you and Blaine tickets, if you want to go."

"We definitely want to," said the pregnant male with much enthusiasm in his voice. A small kick into his ribs brought him out of his happy-state and he frowned as he looked down. "On seconds thought, we might not be able to make it. From the twenty-fifth pregnancy-week, I am scheduled for bed-rest for precautionary reasons.

"Oh well, I'm sure that there'll be other plays to see," Rachel said in a more sorrowful voice as she poured the cut-up cucumbers into the bowl and mixed them with the beforehand cut salad. Kurt pulled his shoulder, grimacing at the thought of bed-rest, and the fact that he would miss Rachel's big comeback on a Broadway stage. "You know," said Rachel still in a low voice. "I asked Finn if he and... Jessica wanted to go.

Kurt raised one brow, "oh? What did he say?"

The young star inhaled deeply through her nose; her nostrils widened with the effort, only slimming down when her lungs were filled. She turned around with a sad smile. "He said no -thought it would be too hard for both of us."

"I'm sorry, Rachel," the young man said, feeling sorry for his friend. Finn and Rachel had dated forever when they'd broken up almost two years ago. It had been a horrible break-up, with lots of crying from both sides, but in the end the two of them had decided that they couldn't stay together. They were apart more than they were dating, and it couldn't go on.

"It's funny," she said, with a distance to her words. She looked at the round tomato on the cutting-board, suddenly finding it more interesting than any other thing in the kitchen. "The last Broadway show he went to see me in was when I got the role of Fanny Brice in Funny Girl." Rachel's first, and only, lead in a Broadway-production almost eight years go.

Kurt nodded sadly, but his mind was stuck on a word Rachel had spoken. No, a name. "You know," he said, his eyebrows furrowing low in front of his glasz eyes. "My father used to nickname my mother Fanny."

"Really?" questioned Rachel without stopping her vegetable-cutting. "What's her real name?" Never once had Kurt mentioned his mother. Whenever she'd been over to the Hummel-house, all pictures of the late Mrs. Hummel had been taken down from the walls. They'd hurt too much, Kurt used to explain.

"Francesca Marie, but most people called her Franzie. Well, except for my father -he called her Fanny."

Rachel mixed the sliced tomatoes with the rest of the salad softly, "I like that name. Fanny."

"Me too."

– – – – – – – – – –

Blaine felt a flash-back come over him as he showed the guard his identification-card and entered through the thick steel door. The new hallway was long and closed-off, except for a thirteen feet wide window. The room next door was a group-room, where the inmates -or as Cooper liked to call them 'the detention sitters', sat with their friends and family. It looked a lot like the group-rooms in prison, except that the walls weren't the usual boring grey stones, nor were the benches made of white-painted metal.

The young lawyer was met with a small guard, not as threatening as the one who'd let him into the hallway. This guard was dressed in a more formal khaki-uniform and had a small grey mustache covering his upper lip. "This way, Mr. Hummel-Anderson." Without waiting for a reply, the guard turned around on his heels and staggered off. His gun clang against a pair of coughs rhythmically to each of his steps.

Gulping, Blaine followed the guard silently -he felt almost ashamed, like the walk he'd once taken after a math teacher, who sent him off to the principal's office. When the small guard in front of him stopped, he turned around and reached for his keys. Wit shaky hands he lifted one key up to the door and tried to unlock it with no success, and so he tried another key. This one fit, and with a curt nod he gestured for Blaine to enter the room. "He'll be in momentarily," said the guard in a gruff voice, before he closed the door behind Blaine with a bam.

Blaine exhaled loudly, but took a seat in one of the plastic chairs bolted to the floor. Somehow that made him nervous. He could feel the beating of his heart fasten as the clock behind him ticked by. It had been a while since he'd last seen the inside of a prison, but it was his first time being in a juvenile detention center. He exhaled again, and opened his briefcase, extracting a thin folder from within.

He barely had a chance to reread the statements, before the door was opened once again. The curly-haired lawyer looked over his shoulder to see Tyler Hill walk in, strapped down in hand - and footcoughs. It was a few steps in before the teen stopped and looked up to see who it was and with a rumble he turned around, facing the guard who'd let him in. "What's the fun-sized lawyer doing here?"

"Shut it," growled the guard back, "he's here trying to save your sorry ass. You go in there and behave, and you might live to see another day."

The teen toddled over to the chair on the opposite site of the table and slumped into it with a growl. As he did so, Tyler and Blaine never lost eye-contact, not even when the door was smacked closed loudly behind them. The older man waited a few seconds, before he coughed. "Good afternoon, Tyler." He was met with another grunt. "Well, to answer your question previously then I'm here to help Mr. Anderson prove your innocence." It always felt weird addressing Cooper as Mr. Anderson – that had always been their father. "Unless," he said, drawing his words out a bit. "You've changed your mind, that is."

"Changed my mind on what?"

"Whether or not you want to plead guilty." Blaine folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. "You know, Tyler. Pleading guilty might help you avoid a few fifty years in prison. You're almost seventeen, but that still doesn't mean that the judge won't think that you shouldn't be tried as adult, and if that happens, then you're in for a rough ride. Prison isn't anything like juvie, and it's only the tough guys who survive." Blaine waited for Tyler to react, but the boy didn't as much as shudder. Instead he kept his head turned to the side, watching something off in the blue with an enormous interest. "Look, if you don't cooperate, all you're really doing is making our job at defending you much harder. You claim that you're innocent -fine, but you've got to help us prove that to the judge and jury."

"Yeah right. I don't stand a chance in court and you know it," cried the teenager out in a low-pitched voice. It was remarkable low considering the boy's age. "Mr. Anderson doesn't believe that I'm innocent -if he's told you differently, then he's lying!" Tyler was breathing heavily, his chest almost hurting from the large puffs of air he had to consume. He didn't say anything after that, and once he'd gotten over his temper-tantrum, he huffed and leaned back into the chair.

After a few seconds of silence, Blaine finally spoke. "He hasn't said anything different- Cooper doesn't like to take sides. I believe you. That you're innocent, and no matter what Mr. Anderson thinks, then he has your best interest at heart. We want to help you, Tyler. But we can't do that if you're not willing to let us help you."

"Yeah right." The boy didn't say anything more for about a minute or so, and Blaine gave him his time to think over his words. Then, the boy slowly softened his features and looked directly into Blaine's eyes. "If I go to prison, tried as an.. as an adult, what would happen to me?"

"My best guess," said Blaine in an equally quiet voice, "is that you go to prison for life with no parole."

"Is that if I plead not-guilty?"

"Yes. If you plead guilty you might cut off on your time with a few years, but that'll still give you at least thirty-five years, and if you're lucky with parole." Once again Tyler seemed to close in on himself, thinking about his solutions. Blaine took the opportunity to continue with his speech. "Tyler, we want to help you. If you tell us everything, we might be able to exclude pleading guilty and win your case. If you're innocent and you plead guilty, the real killer will still be out there."

Tyler sighed, his head still hanging low. "I can't, dude. I just -I can't."

"Then I can't help you." The air seemed to get thicker by the second, as the agonizing ticks of the clock staggered by. "Look, I know that Mr. Anderson will do whatever he can to prove your innocence, but I'm telling you right now -he's destined to fail. The evidence against you is pretty solid, and since you have no valid alibi, then you're the prosecutors' number one suspect."

The boy looked at Blaine briefly, but as their eyes met, he bucked his head with a swift motion. His breathing elaborated once more, almost like running a marathon, and it was with a still hung low head, that he asked Blaine, if he'd ever had secrets.

"I have secrets -but most of them is known by my fiancé."

Tyler didn't move his head. Instead, all of his muscles primary in his arms and neck, tightened. "She must be a real keeper, then," muttered the boy silently.

Blaine nodded his head; not a single hair fell out-of-place from it's gelled back posture. "He is." He waited to see the reaction he'd get out from the teen; he knew from Cooper that the teen had muttered a few homophobic slurs towards one of the police-officers the day they'd taken him in for arrest.

The vein on Tyler's forehead grew larger by the moment, and as it grew it turned a more violent blue-color than it's been mere moments before. His breathing began to uneven, and Blaine could detect a slight shiver in his posture. "He?"

"Yes, I'm engaged to a man -expecting children as well."

"My father's always taught me that homosexuals are scumbags -that they shouldn't be allowed to walk among real people," the boy said, almost in a rehearsed chanting. Tyler swallowed deeply, moisturizing his dry mouth, before he slowly lifted his head to look at Blaine. "According to him, you'll burn in hell."

Blaine was speechless; yes, he knew that this boy was a homophobe, but it still shocked him every time someone spoke badly about him because of his sexual orientation. "Oh well," he stuttered, shifting a bit in his seat. Did he tie his tie too hard this morning? "I believe differently."

Tyler still studied the man in front of him. With intensive eyes, he motioned towards the wall with his head, licking his chapped lips before he spoke. "Can they hear us?"

"No," Blaine shook his head, still feeling a bit flustered from the boy's previous rantings. "This is a private conversation between a client and his lawyer. What's said in here is said in private. We are, however, videotaped and that wall right there," he motioned towards the wall, which Tyler had referred to, "is a double illusion-mirror. They can see us, but we can't see them."

"Like in the movies?"

"Like in the movies," Blaine said, with an amused smile. He couldn't stay mad about the boy's previous comments -he had to remain professional and objective. At least when it came to his own private life.

Tyler nodded again, his movements drawn out and hesitant. Once again he swallowed a clunk of sticky saliva. It was hard to pass it through his dry throat, and it burned slowly as it slit down his tubes. At one moment it burned a bit extra, and he whimpered from the raw emotion. It made him feel weak, and not long after tears welled up into his eyes and he could feel his lower lip quivering from his bottled up emotions. He hung his head again, embarrassed by his lack of control. "I didn't do it," he said, followed by a wet sniffle. He reached his hands up, still hand-coughed, and wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. "But I can't tell you where I was."

"Why not, Tyler?" Blaine reached out and placed a comforting hand on the boy's wrist

Sniffling again, the boy finally looked up with puffed eyes and wet tear-tracks. "My father will kill me." Blaine didn't say anything to pressure him, instead he encouraged the boy to continue with his eyes. Tyler drew in a shaky breath, blinking a couple of times -releasing a few heavy drops of salty tears. Then finally, he whispered, "I was with my boyfriend." Blaine didn't have time to be shocked. Instead he asked Tyler in his most sympathetic voice, what his boyfriend's name was. That question alone broke down Tyler completely, and he sobbed brokenheartedly. "Please don't tell my father."

"Tyler-" began Blaine, but he stopped himself when the boy shook his head.

"Please, mr. Blaine. Please don't tell him."

Blaine sighed, and retrieved his hand and let his fingers run through his slick updo. "If you don't come forth, the real killer might continue with his murder-sprees. You're not helping anyone by being silent, Tyler. If it's your father you're worried about, then I can guarantee your safety; if I detect that you're no longer safe in a household, I can help you get out."

Blaine gave the upset young man time to come down from his emotional-high. "Fredrick Campbell." The words were spoken with such low volume that Blaine nearly missed they'd been said at all. "My boyfriend's name is Fredrick Campbell."

Blaine nodded, finally realizing who the name belonged to. "Fredrick Campbell, is he the brother of your friend Felix?" Tyler tensed for a short moment, but it caught the attention of the lawyer. There was something about Tyler's reaction to the mentioning of the name, which seemed off to him, but he let it rest. His client now had an alibi. "I'm right, aren't I? Your boyfriend is the," he looked down into his papers, turning one over before he found what he was looking for, "older brother of your friend Felix Campbell."

Softly, Tyler nodded. "No one knows," he whispered.

"Tyler, look at me," Blaine said in a caring voice. He didn't say anything else until the troubled teen raised his head and made eye-contact with Blaine. "Will he be willing to testify that you were with him?"

"I think so," he muttered, still a bit drawn out in his voice. "We kept it a secret because of my father. His parents don't have anything against gays."

Nodding, Blaine pulled back and gave his client a reassuring smile. "That's all I needed to know. For now"

– – – – – – – – – –

"I got him to confess," was he first thing Blaine said into the speaker, when Kurt answered the phone. He looked over his shoulder, annoyed by the sound of his own blinkers, before he pulled at the right side of the steering-wheel and turned right.

Kurt wasn't quick to reply: he was sitting on the couch, rubbing his sore belly like he'd done almost as soon as Rachel had left a short hour ago. He was watching a rerun episode of America's Next Top Model. He'd been muttering to himself before the phone rang, bitching about some of the contestants. "So he's guilty?"

"No, the opposite," Blaine said and sped up in his car -the speed-o-meter saying seventy-nine-something. "He has a headstrong alibi from the night of the first murder. I called the witness and he verified it. He's clear at least from the first murder, bur since we know that the murders were committed all by the same man, then he's almost cleared."

"That's great, Bee," gushed Kurt, although he was a bit distracted. One of the girls was throwing a shoe at another contestants, and Kurt just knew that it would lead to a fight. That was the best part! "Could you bring some food with you home? Rachel and I ate almost everything in out fridge."

Blaine laughed, "Rachel and you?"

"Fine, fine," Kurt mumbled with an annoyed, yet playful tone. "I made Rachel cook almost everything in our fridge, happy now? Just bring back Chinese – I want noodles and cashew-nuts, don't care what you choose, but I want that.. and fortune cookies."

Blaine's cellphone-speaker frazzled a bit, and he scrunched up his face. When the screeching noise faded, he shook his head and rubbed his ear, trying to rid himself of the tinnitus. "Got it -I'll drive by Chinese River on my way home. I'm about ten minutes from there." He stopped at a red light. "So, how'd your date with Rachel go? Did she have anything interesting to tell?"

"Not really -we talked about her horrible fashion choices back in High School, a little bit about Kenneth and then -oh, she's gotten a part in a Broadway-production. Not the lead or anything special, but like I told her – a Broadway-production is a Broadway-production, no matter what part you get. It's the first Broadway-role she's gotten since Funn-" he cut himself off. He didn't want to mention Fanny to Blaine. He wasn't sure if he could go through with it, naming one of his daughters after his late mother. Maybe the pain would be too great; even though it had been years, Kurt still hadn't gotten over his mother's tragic death. He could still hear her screams. "Since, you know – last time."

"Since last time? You're being silly again, Kurt. But you're my silly Kurt, and that's all that matters."

Smiling into the phone, Kurt told his fiancé that he'd missed him. Blaine had left early in the morning, only having time to cuddle for thirty minutes -and a quick handjob, before the younger man had to leave for work. Kurt had agreed that Blaine could take on this case and help his brother, because he could see how much it pained the love of his life not to be out there, helping people. But he was still vary -he wanted Blaine to be home with him, always, but he knew that he wasn't being fair. Blaine needed to do what he loved, the same way Kurt got to do what he loved. Creating fashion and criticizing those who wore it badly.

"Hey Kurt," Blaine pressed the speeder, when the light turned green. "I love you."

"We love you too, Bee." That made Blaine smile; it was only since recent, but Kurt had started adding their kids in whenever he told him that he loved him. And that made the young Hummel-Anderson's heart swell with pride.

– – – – – – – – – –

How many of you are writers yourself -raise your hands.. You've probably all tried having that one chapter which is out to kill you. This was -and my suspicious self is sure that it's because it's chapter number 13. Anyway, this chapter was super hard, and I rewrote it at least four times (today included), until gottriplets helped me and the story finally got better. I realized that I had too much talking and not enough emotions, and I'm a sucker for emotions. I love to be able to picture in front of me what the characters are doing, how they're feeling, what color their hair is and so on. I figured that out this morning, actually -and so I rewrote it again (for the fourth time) and now I quite like it. Tell me what YOU thought, if you have anything you'd like to see before the kiddos arrive. We're not that far from that awesome moment in life, and so now's your chance to get a little piece of your mind in the story.

Much love, thank you for reading and reviewing!

Simone