Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

Note: No song in this chapter, Gleeks! I searched desperately for one that would work for this, but I couldn't find the perfect one. This is also the FINAL chapter of this story. Look out tomorrow for the epilogue and a preview of the sequel, "Phoenix"! For now, just review this one.

It was getting late, and they were all running out of time.

Rachel: Santana in car wreck, OMG.

Tina: Oh, God, no…

Mike: Does Brittany know?

Rachel: She's in the ER with me now.

Puck: Shit. Have you guys seen Kurt? I think he's in trouble.

Tina: No, but you'd better go find him.

Rachel: I'll hold down the fort until you all get here.

Artie: Britt's crying. Get here fast, everyone, please.

Kurt: ONE DAY AND EVERYTHING FUCKING COMES DOWN AGAIN. GOD. THANKS, GUYS, IT WAS NICE KNOWING YOU ALL.

Tina: ….

Artie: Kurt?

Kurt has signed off

Puck: Fuck. On a rescue mission, guys.

Puck has signed off

Rachel: You don't think…?

Artie: Kurt wouldn't kill himself.

Mike: Yeah, he's strong.

Tina: I'm not so sure, guys…

Mike: Chill, Tina, he'll be fine.

Mike, Tina, and Artie have signed off

Rachel: Godspeed, Kurt.

Rachel has signed off

Kurt raced towards the open field. He knew he had to do this, and he knew he had to do this now. This was all just too much for him to handle. Santana was probably dead by now. "Oh, my GOD." The sudden realization that the car wreck he'd passed by earlier was Santana's, that it had been her that was smashed up to pieces, sunk in. He banged the wheel and began to cry. First his mom, then Mercedes, and now Santana? Too many people lost from car crashes, and they were all his fault. If only he hadn't made his mom go to the mall that day…if only he'd given Mercedes a ride to school that rainy morning…if only he hadn't warped Santana into his own madness…they'd all be here right now. They'd all be with him, safe and sound, and Kurt wouldn't be heading towards his own demise.

There was still time.

"Rachel, thank God," Tina ran into the emergency room, followed closely by Mike. "What happened? Is she okay? Is she…" Rachel raised a hand, silencing her.

"She's alive. She's really banged up, though. Most of her ribs are broken, and so is her leg. And her arm, too. She also has a bad concussion. Other than that, she's fine."

Tina sank into the hard plastic waiting room chair. "How did this happen?"

Artie sighed. "She was speeding, and collided head-on into another car, over by that dangerous spot with all the hairpin turns about five miles out of Lima."

"Speeding?" Mike frowned. "Why was she…?"

Rachel shrugged. "I don't know. She's asleep right now, but we'll ask her later. Much later. It's probably not a good idea to ask her so soon…after…you know?"

Brittany sat like a rock, not speaking or moving. "Britt?"

She blinked, not looking at them. "She's been like this since we got here," Artie leaned over and whispered to Tina and Mike. He squeezed her hand, but she didn't respond.

Lauren: Heard about Santana. Is she okay? Not that I care. Much.

Rachel: She's alive, no worries.

Lauren: Good. I'm with Schue now, and Quinn and Finn.

Finn: Yeah, I'm with Lauren and Quinn. And Mr. Schue.

Quinn: Finn, you're an idiot.

Mr. Schuester: Do you kids need me there?

Rachel: We're okay, Mr. Schue. We don't know where Kurt is, though…

Mr. Schuester: ?

Artie: Puck went to go look for him.

Mr. Schuester: Hope he's okay. Poor Kurt…he's been through so much lately.

Lauren, Finn, Quinn, and Mr. Schuester have signed off

Rachel: I wonder where Kurt could be.

Artie: Rachel…I'm right here.

Rachel: Oops, sorry.

Rachel and Artie have signed off

Kurt: Isn't something missing?

Kurt: Isn't someone missing me?

Kurt: I guess not.

Kurt has signed off

Puck: Kurt, wait! Where are you?

Puck: Damnit.

Puck has signed off

Kurt finally reached the open field that he'd been searching for. It was exactly as he'd pictured it; a big open space with lots of grass and space to run. Space to run, and space to hide. Space to fall and love, and space to die. And what Kurt wanted to do more than ever right then and there was to die. He parked the car, leaving all of his things behind, save for a book of matches, which he carefully tucked into his pants pocket. "Let them find it all later, and burn it," he said to nobody. "Just burn it all to ash, just like me."

Or was it too late for Kurt to be saved?

Puck drove around madly, searching desperately for Kurt. Why am I the only one who is picking up on his suicide threats? He questioned his own mind. Are they all really that clueless? Maybe I'm just smarter than they give me credit for. I'm not about to let my little buddy Kurt die. He's not gonna take his own life, not on my watch. I bet he'll do it by burning. But where do you go when you want to burn yourself to death? What kind of sick, twisted person would even want to do that?

Kurt would.

"Kurt?" Santana moaned, slowly coming to her senses. "Kurt? Is that you?" She blinked in the glow of the harsh hospital lights. God, I feel like I've been hit by a truck. She tried to sit up, but could not, as her ribs were taped up. She fell back down against the pillows, weak and tired. She looked down at her wrists, bandages covering the cuts that she had been so proud of. A cast was on her right arm, and another was on her left leg. Her head hurt like she'd had a massive hangover, and an IV was steadily dripping something into her veins. "Kurt?" She called out again, hoping that he'd come into the room. Instead, she was greeted by Rachel, Tina, Artie, Mike…and Brittany.

"Oh, Santana, you're awake," Rachel whispered. They all entered the room and scattered around her bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like hell," she muttered, hoping they were pumping her with good drugs. "What…what happened?"

"Um," Artie began slowly. "You were driving out by that area with the bad hairpin turns? And you were kinda speeding. And…Santana, you collided head-on with another car."

It was all coming back to her now. "Shit," she swore under her breath. "Guys, where's Kurt? Where is he?"

Tina gulped. "Santana…nobody's seen him for hours. Um, the last person to see him was…you."

Santana tried to sit up suddenly, but could not. "What? Guys, this isn't funny, WHERE IS KURT?"

"We don't know," Mike admitted. "Puck's gone to look for him."

Brittany hung back by the door, unable to speak or move yet again. "Britt?" Santana said softly, noticing the pretty blonde for the first time.

Rachel took the opportunity to send off a quick group text.

Rachel: She's awake!

Quinn: Thank God, oh, thank you, Jesus.

Finn: Grilled Cheesus, thank you!

Lauren: That's great, Rachel. It really is.

Mr. Schuester: Thank God. Tell her she's in our thoughts.

Puck: That's great, but I still can't find Kurt. Getting really, really worried.

Mr. Schuester: Do you want us to help you, Puck?

Puck: I can handle this one on my own.

Puck has signed off

Quinn: Where do you think he could be?

Rachel: FINN YOU'RE HIS STEPBROTHER. WHY IS PUCK LOOKING FOR HIM AND NOT YOU?

Finn: …

Finn: He's nothing to me anymore.

Finn: Just my faggy stepbrother.

Rachel: Wow. Just wow.

Lauren: Fuck you, Hudson.

Mr. Schuester: …

Quinn: I'm breaking up with you.

Quinn has signed off

Rachel: I concur.

Rachel has signed off

Mr. Schuester: I'm really disappointed in you, Finn.

Mr. Schuester has signed off

Lauren: I'm giving you the middle finger right now, just so you know.

Lauren has signed off

Finn: Come on guys, I didn't mean it like that!

Finn: Guys?

Finn: Kurt, please come home…

Finn has signed off

Kurt had taken a handful of pictures out of his bag before slamming the door shut. The last thing he'd done was written a goodbye text, sent to those would might actually give a damn if he'd died.

Kurt: I'm sorry. I had to do it. If only you knew me, if only you really knew me. Santana was the only one who ever really did. And now, she's gone, too. Well, I'm going now, guys. I'm going to see Mercedes again, and Mama. I love you all. And I'm sorry. I have to do this. xoxo Kurt Elizabeth Hummel

Kurt powered down his phone. He wouldn't need it now. He tossed it in the back of the Navigator, hearing it clunking down somewhere against something metal and hard. If only he'd kept that phone on for a moment longer, for then he would have gotten the text from Rachel that said: Kurt, Santana's alive! Please come home. We all love and miss you.

But it was too late; the phone was off and out of Kurt's hands, quite literally.

"Guys, look at this text I just got from Kurt," Rachel hurriedly pulled the gang over to the corner of the room.

Artie's phone beeped. "I got the same thing," he said, holding up his phone.

"Us, too," Tina and Mike said in unison.

Brittany silently held up her own phone, showing that she, too, had gotten the message.

"A text? From Kurt? Where is he? Is he okay?" Santana called over from the bed, voice growing more desperate with each word.

"He's fine," Artie called back calmly. "He's taking a little time to breathe, but he'll be here before visiting hours are over." The lie slipped off his tongue so easily, it was like butter melting. Rachel shot him a wide eyed look. "I can't," Artie mouthed back. Tina looked over at Santana worriedly.

"Santana, we're going to head to the vending machines. Do you want anything?"

"No, thanks," she replied. "Take your time. I'm obviously not going anywhere."

They scuttled out of the room. "I had to do it?" Tina read nervously.

"He wouldn't," Mike firmly stated. "Kurt's just being overdramatic, as usual."
Rachel's eyes filled with tears. "I'm not so sure this time, Mike. I think he really is going to do something."

If only they knew.

Puck pulled over to the side, having felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He scanned the text from Kurt, feeling his heart race as he read each word. "No," he whispered. "No!" He quickly pulled back onto the road, putting the pedal to the metal. He had to save his friend, if it was the last thing he'd ever do. He couldn't save Mercedes, and he didn't save Santana. Santana, who had been bleeding at the wrists the last time he'd seen her. Mercedes, who had been so full of life and joy and vivaciousness. Santana and Mercedes, both of whom he'd had flings with. Two girls who he'd hurt, one of whom was dead—dead!—and the other who was lying in a hospital bed, half-dead anyway. Both had loved him. And so did Kurt, and where was Kurt headed right now? The same place Mercedes and Santana were.

To the other side.

Kurt stepped out into the field, stepped out into the dusk and the brisk night. He took in a big, deep breath, enjoying the smell of the night air. He walked slowly, suddenly aware of all of his senses, feeling as if everything was a blur around him. These were to be his last minutes of life, and he was going to remember every moment of it. He reached the middle of the field, and held those pictures tightly in his hands. He took the first one and set a match to it. His mother, gone up in smoke. He took the second one and did the same. Mercedes, gone in a pile of ashes. He kept burning these pictures of his family and friends one by one. Strike, burn, Dad. Strike, burn, Finn and Carole. Strike, burn, New Directions. Strike, burn, strike, burn. He held the final picture in his hands, a smiling picture of him from before this whole year happened. Strike, burn…me. Ashes of the photos of his past scattered around him, Kurt sat in the middle of that field. He lit a match and tossed it away from him, watching the grass catch fire. He lit another match, throwing it away from him again, in the opposite direction. He continued this until he was surrounded by a ring of fire. There was only one thing left to do, and that was to wait for the flames to find him and carry him home.

There was still time, right?

Puck drove along, feeling more and more desperate as each minute passed. What if he didn't reach Kurt on time? His blood would be on my hands, Puck thought. I have to find him, I just have to find him. The window was rolled down, and Puck breathed in the night air. Suddenly, he smelled it: smoke. Squinting against the rapidly darkening sky, he searched for the source of the smoke, hoping it would lead him to Kurt, and wasn't signaling car trouble. Then he saw it: smoke, off in the distance a little. Puck stepped on the gas a little harder, unwavering, hoping that he'd make it in time. Within minutes, he'd reached the place the smoke had been rising from. He parked his car crookedly in his hurry to save his friend, and saw a bright orange-and-yellow circle of fire in the middle of this open, abandoned field. "Kurt!" Puck screamed, running towards it as fast as his legs would take him.

Kurt stood up quickly. He was fighting to breathe off of the smoke. He looked around, surrounded by nothing but what he loved most: the flames. And in that moment, Kurt hated the flames. This is what they had made him do. Suddenly, Kurt did not want to die. He began to cry big-baby sobs, knowing that the end was coming, and he wasn't ready for it, not ready at all. He called out for somebody, anybody, in vain. Puck heard his cries and tore off even faster. "Kurt, Kurt!" He screamed over the roar of the flames. Kurt gasped between his sobs. "Puck! Oh, God, Puck, I don't wanna die! Oh, save me, oh…"

What could Puck really do? The flames surrounded Kurt on all four sides. Unless…unless…ah-ha! Puck spotted a side where the flames were lower than the rest of the circle. He took a deep breath, took a running stance, and ran like the wind, leaping over the fire as if it was a hurdle and Puck was at the state championship track meet. He flew into the circle, landing by Kurt's side, out of breath. "Puck," Kurt had tears streaming down his cheeks. "You came to save me." Puck looked at Kurt. "Of course I did." He picked Kurt up and took another breath. The flames were coming in even closer now, practically on top of them. Puck closed his eyes and ran for it. Once they were safely out, they collapsed in a heap, away from the raging fire that Kurt had set in his own rage and pain.

"What. The. Hell. Were. You. Thinking?" Puck gasped out between breaths.
"I wanted to end it, I wanted to end it so bad," Kurt whimpered.

Puck, regaining his breath, reached for his cell.

Puck: I've got Kurt. He's alive.

Rachel: Thank God, I'll tell Santana.

Puck and Rachel have signed off

"Santana," Kurt said suddenly, sitting up straight.

"Is alive," Puck reassured him.

Kurt burst into tears. "I thought she was d-d-dead," he stammered, holding his head in his hands. "I thought she was d-d-d-dead!"

Puck held him close, causing Kurt to shudder. "She's going to be fine," he whispered. "And so will you, Kurt."

And so they would, eventually. But first, they had some serious healing to do.

Note2: That took over an hour to write! Whew! But I really hope you liked it. I'll post an epilogue tomorrow, and then start the sequel sometime next week, most likely…that is, if you want me to!