A/N: It's been another long delay, a little over a year in fact. I don't think I'll ever end up back on a regular schedule but I do plan on finishing this story however long that takes and I hope that there's never another delay quite this long. I am not one to give up, plus this story just means too much to me, as do you dear readers. I had to take a back seat for while with this story for a very specific reason which still makes my heart tighten and my hands shake when I think about telling people. However I'm going to tell you, so at the end of this chapter is going to be a fairly extensive author's note that was very painful to write. However it's the chapter you have been waiting for, not the note, so here it is.

Chapter 39: Flashback?

The sun was beating down on his face but he didn't care. His mother had already chastised him about sunscreen and he'd slathered some on, but he certainly wasn't about to go inside. Walls were confining even if they were filled with people that loved him. Being outside, being allowed outside whenever he wanted and without an escort; it was liberating.

"Baby, I'm going to the store, do you want to come?" He heard his mother's voice from the kitchen window.

"No I'm okay," he called back softly.

"Are you sure?" She asked, sounding a little concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine Mom," he told her, turning towards the window and giving her a weak smile.

His mother hesitated for a moment before closing the window. He frowned to himself for a moment. Brianna was at school and his father was at the office. He'd told everyone to try and get back into their normal routines; that he didn't want to be a burden. All the same one member of his family had stayed home with him since his return, usually his mother. Despite his insistence she'd taken a leave of absence from work for a few weeks, swearing to him it was just to help him settle into a semi-normal routine.

He'd meant it when he said he wanted them to get back to normal. He wanted to get back to normal too, but he didn't want to be alone either. He'd been secretly glad his mother had insisted on taking her leave. Now, if his mother left it would mean he'd be alone in the house for the first time since he'd gotten back.

He stood up and jogged towards the back door just in time to hear the front one slam shut. "Mom?" There was the sound of the car starting in the driveway and he tore through the house, leaving the back door wide open and ignoring every ache and pain in his body.

What had he been thinking? He couldn't be alone in this house. Whenever he was alone the memory of Pierre would haunt him. Sometimes even when he wasn't alone he could swear he'd seen him lurking around the house watching him even if all he saw was a flash of those same blue eyes.

He ripped the door open to see his mother's car halfway down the street, before slowly closing it again with a thick swallow. He moved over to the living room and sank down in the couch, bringing his legs up onto the cushions with him.

All of a sudden he was wishing Kurt didn't have to work so much or he could have just called him to stay with him. He was sure the other boy would drop whatever he was doing, but he didn't want to keep imposing on him so much. He could always call his dad, but he didn't want to bother him either. It felt like no matter what he did he was becoming a burden to his loved ones and that was the last thing he wanted.

He didn't want to give them any reason not to want him around. With Pierre that would have meant death and while he knew it wasn't like that here he still wanted to impose as little as possible on his family. He loved them and it seemed like they were always doing everything for him. It just didn't seem fair that they did so much and he did so little.

The back door blew shut with a slam and he started, his head snapping up in fear before he remembered that he'd been the one to leave it open. He chastised himself for a moment for being so careless before carefully moving from the couch to grab a snack.

He hesitated before reaching for the fridge. His parents had told him over and over again to snack whenever he was hungry, but it still took him a second longer for him to grip the handle than it would have taken his sister.

"I can eat whenever I want," he reminded himself out loud in a whisper.

"Is that so?" A deadly familiar voice asked and he whipped around.

There was a man standing in his kitchen with a cap tamping down blond hair and hiding part of his face.

"G-g-go a-away," he stuttered out, shaking his head. Almost against his will his feet were moving backwards, drawing him closer to the wall and away from what had to be an apparition his traumatized mind was imagining. There was no other way the form of his tormentor could be there. "This isn't happening. G-go."

Even as he moved back the figure loomed on him, the footsteps heavy and intimidating. "I can't do that Blaine. We have some unfinished business-"

In the distance he could hear a car engine pulling into the driveway, but his mind was focused on the figure before him. The words were a rapid paced panic, "This isn't happening. It can't be. It's all in my head. You- you're dead!" He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as if he could clear the man's sight from his vision that way. There were quieter footsteps, this time drawing away. "You're not really here-" He opened his eyes only to see that there was nothing there.

A long shuddering breath escaped his throat. His mind had only been playing tricks on him, making him hear and see things that weren't really there. It had to be. Sure he'd heard footsteps and the apparition had smelt of the same cheap cologne that Pierre had worn, but Jo had said the flashbacks could trigger all of his senses, olfactory and otherwise. Nonetheless it made him want to be alone even less.

He heard the sound of the wind blowing the door shut again and he whirled around again, seeing something flash by the window next to it. His entire body tensed. It had just been an apparition, a flashback- an expected, remarkably vivid, response after his trauma, hadn't it?

Blaine ran at the backdoor, flicking the lock on the deadbolt. He turned and pressed his back against the door, breathing heavily. It had been so much clearer this time and he was almost positive he hadn't opened the door since it had slammed shut the first time.

Except Pierre was dead; it couldn't have been him.

He sank against the door and took in a few deep breaths. It was nothing.

His head jerked up when he heard the front doorknob jiggle and open, still clutching the mostly forgotten apple in his hand, his nails slicing into the flesh of its peel.

"Anyone home? Mom? Blaine?" His brother's voice called into the house and Blaine felt relief start to trickle through his body. His fingers loosened around the fruit and it tumbled, bruised and indented, from them.

"Joey?" He croaked, scrambling to his feet and clearing his throat as he went to meet his brother in the front porch.

"Hey Buddy. You alone?" Joey was carrying a large box in his arms, kneeling to set it down on the floor.

"I think so," he shakily looked around the parts of the house that he could see.

His brother frowned, a hand resting over the bulge on his belt underneath his shirt. "What happened? Where's Mom?"

"She went to the store. I told her I'd be fine but…" Blaine's eyes were staring at his brother's hand on what he could only guess was his service weapon. "Joey?"

"Did something happen?" Joey asked again, looking at him seriously.

"Flashback, I think." Blaine shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "I thought I saw him and the wind kept making the door slam. It was nothing. It had to be. I'm just- Jo- Dr. Francis says flashbacks are normal. It was just-," he shuddered despite his attempt hold steady, "so vivid."

"The door was open?" His brother's eyes started to survey the room they were in.

"I left it open when Mom left. I changed my mind about staying here alone and was trying to catch her," he explained as Joey stationed himself in front of him. "Joey it was nothing."

"Forgive me Blaine, but since you were alone I don't want to take any chances. Just- stay right behind me okay? I'm going to search the house."

"But Pierre's dead-"

"I know Blaine, but that doesn't mean someone else didn't break in," Joey told him firmly. "Just let me do this."

"O-okay," he followed closely behind his brother, watching as Joey methodically went through all the rooms of the house with his hand resting on the now open holster of his gun. Somehow he hadn't truly seen just how much his kidnapping had affected not only him but the rest of his family as well.

It was only when they checked the last bedroom and returned downstairs that Joey's hand slowly slid away from his belt and he let out a sigh. "Alright, there's no one here. I guess I'm just scared someone might try to hurt my little brother again." He took another deep breath. "You okay Buddy?"

"I'm sorry," Blaine said instead. His little flashback had made his brother worry needlessly. "I feel like I'm going crazy, seeing dead people."

"Don't be sorry. You just told me the doctor said it's normal," his brother draped an arm around his shoulder. "Now I'm going to make a quick phone call and then why don't we move some of this baby stuff I brought over upstairs to B.B.'s new room? There's furniture's up there, but nothing's set up. The moves coming up soon and then you're going to have to put up with me full-time."

Blaine feigned a small smile. "Alright."

"It's work related so," Joey made a gentle shooing motion, "I'm going to need a little privacy. Why don't you meet me upstairs?"

Joey waited until Blaine was well out of earshot before he reached for his phone, dialing before he pressed it to his ear. "Matt, you got eyes on LaMontone?"

At the thick swallow that he heard audibly over the phone his body tensed. "Joe I lost him about twenty minutes ago, but I just caught sight of him again few moments ago. Why did something happen?"

"Where?" His hand tightened over the phone.

"About two blocks from your parents' house. Joe is everything okay?"

"Blaine heard doors slamming and thought he saw the bastard that kidnapped him in a flashback-"

"Only it wasn't a flashback?"

"Well I was hoping you'd say you had eyes on him all day and that's all it was. Now I'm not so sure. They do look awfully alike. It wouldn't be hard for Blaine to mistake the two if he only caught a glance of him." Joey's eyes flickered to the stairs, trying to make sure his little brother wasn't listening in. "If he got into the house today to scare Blaine-"

"Do you really think Marc LaMontone would settle for scaring him? If he was really in the house with Blaine alone don't you think he would've acted?" Matt asked him. "Maybe it really was a flashback."

"Unless I scared him away," He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat the moment he'd seen the petrified look on his brother's face. "I hope you're right Matt," Joey sucked in another deep breath. "Just do me a favor and keep an eye on him?"

"I will Joe." Matt was silent for a long time, just breathing over the phone for a moment. "I won't lose him again."

Joey took a third settling breath, "Okay, call me later with an update."

"Right."

He swiped his finger across his phone screen, terminating the call as he looked up towards the staircase Blaine had just gone up moments before. There was a band tightening around his chest and it seemed to be trying to tell him that what his brother had experienced had been no flashback. He couldn't be sure, but as his hands tightened into fists he wasn't sure he cared.

Marc LaMontone had been somehow involved in his brother's kidnapping and that was enough to heat the blood in his veins up to a boil.

"Joey?" Blaine's voice was distant, fading in from up the stairs, "You coming?"

"Just a sec, I'm still on the phone," he called back the lie, trying to relax his body before heading up to join his younger brother. After everything Blaine had gone through it didn't seem fair to subject his emotions on him. Knowing his brother Blaine would pick up on his tensed muscles and creased face.

He didn't need to give Blaine any new reasons to worry. It was better that Blaine think it was a flashback; it was better for his healing process. It had to be.

With a deep cleansing exhale he let his hands relax and reached down to grab the box filled with B.B.'s toys and his mobile. He was going to do whatever it took for his brother to feel safe and at home enough to heal from the tribulations he'd suffered. If it meant acting like everything was okay even when it might not be, then he'd do it. Then, he'd make it okay, no matter what it took.

Marc LaMontone was not going to hurt his little brother.

Shifting the box in his arms and putting a smile on his face he followed the path Blaine had taken up the stairs. "Sorry to make you wait buddy."

"It's okay," his brother gave him a fractured smile, the tension in the younger man's muscles easily apparent.

"We can do this later if you want," Joey placed the box down on the spiced maple flooring, concern creasing his face. "You still seem kind of shaken."

Blaine pulled his lower lip between his teeth, nervously chewing. "I'm fine, Joey; really I am. It was all in my head-"

"That doesn't make it any less traumatic for you-"

"Please," Joey stopped when he heard the strain in his little brother's voice, "can we just pretend everything is normal; just for a little while? I just want to pretend none of it happened, just for a little bit. Let's just act like it never happened, like we're just a regular pair of brothers setting up your son's new room. I don't- I can't think about it every second. I need a break from all of it."

"I don't know if that's the best idea Blainers-" he started softly, but Blaine cut him off again.

"Not forever," Blaine clarified, and Joey could see his brother's Adam's apple bob up and down before he continued. "I know I can't pretend it never happened, not really. I just need a little bit of normal, please."

His eyes searched out Blaine's, before he crouched down by the box he'd just brought up and pulled out the diaper genie. "Where should we put this?"

The tension that drained from Blaine was visible as his muscles loosened and a slight smile grew over his lips. "I'd say next to wherever you want to put the changing table is your best bet."

With a laugh and wry smile Joey rolled his eyes, "Smart ass."

"Shouldn't we set up the crib first anyway? Where would Vanessa want it do you think?" Blaine asked, his voice slightly less shaky than before. "She's probably going to have an opinion."

"Yeah," Joey grimaced a little. "I figured we'd just assemble it all and set it up. Once she gets here I'll have to move it all around anyway. She says I'm not the best decorator. I'm just glad she's not pregnant anymore. Last time I set up B.B.'s nursery I had to change everything around at least four times. Pregnancy hormones are a scary thing Blainers, let me tell you."

"Just don't let her hear you telling me," he joked softly, pulling out a sheet of paper containing the instructions for setting up his nephew's crib.

"We don't need that Buddy. I've done this once before-"

"Like the book shelf you tried to set up for Mom when I was fourteen? Doesn't still wobble? I'm pretty sure I put something on there yesterday and the whole thing shifted." Blaine raised an eyebrow and let out a small grin, relishing the feeling of just hanging out with his older brother. It made everything else seem so far away, like if he could just keep his mind busy then everything would be okay.

"It's still standing, might I remind you," Joey laughed and shook his head. "Alright, we'll do it your way, but you're in charge of the instructions. I hate reading those damn things. I swear it's all French to me."

Blaine smoothed out the paper against the floor, eyeing the diagrams for a long minute. "It all looks pretty straight forward to me."

"I repeat, smart ass."

Blaine swallowed, trying to keep his smile. Keeping his mind busy was one thing, but everything seemed to remind of Pierre. It didn't matter that he'd never called him a smart ass, he was rather more prone to pointing out how stupid he considering him to be.

He breathed, trying to focus his attentions once again. Pierre was gone. He wasn't controlling his life anymore. He had a chance now to be his own person again. He just had to figure out exactly who that person was.

All he wanted right now was to be Joey's little brother, helping him set up his nephew's nursery.

"Blainers, what are you muttering to yourself?" Joey's voice broke in softly.

"What?" Had he really been speaking out loud?

"You were muttering something under your breath," his brother's voice wasn't angry, but tempered with concern. "Something bothering you?"

Blaine blinked at him dumbly.

"Yeah that sounded pretty stupid to me too. Of course something's bothering you. I meant- well you know what I meant, right?" Joey reached to scratch behind his neck awkwardly, like he didn't know how to act around him, around this new and different Blaine that had come home to them. "I know you said you wanted to pretend for a little bit, but it's not working, is it?"

Slowly he shook his head.

"Then let's not pretend. How about we just take it one step at a time, kind of like building this crib? I know there are no instructions for this, but we'll figure it out."

"Even if it wobbles a bit," Blaine gave a whisper of a smile. "That sounds alright."

A/N:

So this is the author's note I mentioned in the beginning, feel free to skip it if you wish but I feel as if I have to write it anyway. It may be one of the most painful and freeing things I ever write.

I was never going to put it out there the real reason why this story was so hard for me to finish. It is very personal and to me, still very raw. I'm going to repeat that if you're not interested in my personal life than you can skip it. I won't be upset. I almost hope you will, because admitting this to you, my readers, or anyone, is not an easy thing. As a matter of fact I only told my sister two days ago. I just feel like it needs to be out there. I suppose I'm writing it more for my own sake than anything else.

As you may know from my previous author's notes that around the time my (unofficial) hiatus began that I was getting out a bad relationship. I tried to continue writing this but I was having panic attacks and just a loss of what to do in the case of healing Blaine. The thing is, my bad relationship, it was more than that. It was abusive, emotionally and verbally and I am absolutely sure that if I hadn't gotten out when I did that physical abuse would've followed. I was always afraid and because I was always afraid I did things that I never would have done otherwise. When it came to physical intimacy I always set specific boundaries beforehand because I was/am inexperienced and didn't want to move too quickly. This is difficult for me to come out and say because I feel like I should have known (especially with the research that I did in writing this particular story) that the things he was doing to get me to submit to his wants despite my personal reservations were not okay. Yet it all still happened and afterwards, when I mentioned my discomfort (to put it mildly but being mild was the only way to circumvent his anger) I was told it was my fault. I did not say no. I said beforehand what I was comfortable with and what I wasn't, but during I did not say no because I was afraid. I was afraid to get screamed at for not 'trusting him', that he would leave me. I apologized, to the perpetrator, for my own rape. That fact has been screwing with my head ever since I realized that's what had been done to me and what I'd had to say in return. I have been struggling with this for the past year and a half, wondering how I could possibly write the healing process for another when I could not even heal myself. I am in counselling now myself (albeit a little late) and I am working on it. I've come to realize something in the last few weeks: I'm not going to get over this overnight. It's been nearly two years and it still crawls at my insides. My goal now is to try and use what happened to make me stronger, to make me braver, more willing to fight for what I deserve and to not be ashamed. I deserved better. I know that. It's just that talking about what made me realize that is still utterly painful.

I'd write more, but I think I'm going to save those emotions and realizations for Blaine because I do plan to continue writing Blaine's healing process, but I've realized it can't be as fleshed out as I'd originally planned because then the story would never have a satisfactory conclusion. Instead I have a little something different in mind. It will still be in depth and it will still be detailed. I actually feel it will be more true to the process because it's going to take time. I don't want to give it all away now, but I think you'll understand as I continue to write.

I still don't have a schedule. I can't make any promises except that I'm not giving up. I'm never giving up.