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"Coop? Coop? Did I just hear you right?" Blaine's mouth hung open in shock, phone pressed tight to his ear. "You-Cooper Anderson-actually have a girlfriend? And "girlfriend" doesn't mean she was one of the many faceless women who danced with you, you know?"

"Well-I don't know if it's a girlfriend. But she gave me her number, and I called her this morning, and she said when I said I'll call in the morning, she didn't think I meant eight o'clock, but I was so keen, and she didn't seem to mind, and we were talking for ages, and-"

Blaine looked like a surprised fish at feeding time. He sat down in the blue plastic hospital chair, arm around the sleeping Kurt beside him, listening in awe to his brother.

"So you didn't just dance with her once, then? You didn't just snog or sleep with her, then forget and move on to the next girl?"

"No-what sort of guy do you think I am?" Cooper sounded marginally offended-but was far too keen to continue his story. Blaine was amazed. He could tell from his voice that his brother was beaming like a goof from ear to ear-and he was gabbling away like a schoolgirl. Blaine's mouth was almost to the floor. Where was the Cooper who fucked em and chucked em? He didn't think Cooper had had a steady girlfriend since middle school-he liked his freedom to flirt with every woman he met too much. So what was so special about this girl, then?

"She's amazing! Seriously-she's gorgeous-and so lovely! You know those people who are so nice you want to throw them off a cliff?"

Blaine jumped. "Are you sure that's the best sentiment to begin a relationship with?"

"Oh, you know what I mean!"

Was it Blaine's imagination-or did Cooper just sigh?

"Oh, little bro, do you think this will turn into a relationship?"

Blaine coughed a little awkwardly. "I'm not exactly the best person to ask for advise on women," he said, gently stroking Kurt's hair.

"No, no-but you and Kurt are practically married, man! Should I call her again? Would it look to clingy? Would that scare her? Oh, but I wanna talk to her again! She's so awesome! I mean, we haven't even kissed yet-but God-you know!"

Blaine grinned. "I'm glad you've found a nice girl-finally,"

"No, no-this one's not just a girl-she's a lady,"

Spluttering, Blaine nearly spat out the sip of water he'd taken. "What?"

"I mean-not as in as opposed to a man-I just mean-well-she's-she's not-not just another girl,"

Blaine's eyebrows shot upwards. "You've only known her twelve hours!"

"No-I mean-oh shit, I know how stupid I must be sounding-but-but-oh you know!" Cooper gave what sounded like a Kurtish giggle.

Blaine laughed out loud, giving Kurt a kiss on the forehead. "Fair enough. Well-I hope all goes well with her, bro. Congratulations,"

Cooper gave an awkward, shaky laugh. "So come on, man-what's new with Kurty and the baby?"

"Well," Blaine smiled at Kurt, kissing him again. The countertenor made a small noise in his sleep, like a kitten yawning. "They think they'll be out of hospital in another few days,"

"Hey-that's amazing! Top, man! I knew they'd be alright,"

"Yeah-brilliant," Blaine grinned, stroking Kurt's hair. "Tough as old boots, my little family,"


"Oh God, Mom, I hope we get everything ready in time for Kurt and Blaine coming home!" Finn grinned as he and Carole strolled up the hospital corridor toward the coffee machine. They should have labelled cups by now, Burt had said. "I mean, I hope they don't have to stay in hospital a minute longer than they have to-but I hope they stay long enough for us to get finished!"

Carole beamed. "Honey, I have to say, this is one of the best, sweetest ideas you kids have ever come up with,"

Finn's smile stretched. "Well, you know, I didn't come up with it…but you know-I think it's a really great idea…"

"Me too," Carole nodded in agreement. "Hey-have you heard from Maria?"

"Blaine's mom?" Finn blinked in astonishment. "Why would I have heard from him?" he asked, bemused.

"Oh-nothing," Carole looked down, feeling stupid. "Of course you wouldn't have-but I haven't heard from her in a few days…"

"Kurt loves the little baby outfit she gave them-I have to admit-it's adorable, all little and yellow and little duckies, with the little hood…"

"You used to have one like that-"

"Shush, Mom!"

Carole grinned to himself-it was so easy to embarrass Finn. But she was worried about Maria…

"I swear, that baby now owns more clothes than I ever had in my life-and she's not even born yet!"

"Well, that's the thing with babies-I'm sure you actually did have just as many at that stage! Plus-the poor kid has Kurt and Blaine for parents. Of course she's going to rival Harper Seven,"

Finn sniggered. "I hope Kurt gets out of hospital soon…"

"Well, as long as nothing else happens to him, and his blood pressure stays down…" Carole smiled brightly. "I'd say he'll be out of there in no time,"


Maria slowly sank down onto the red leather living room sofa, high-heeled feet on the white fluffy rug on the designer carpet. Leaning back on the embroidered cushions, she took a deep breath, looking around her. The huge, flat-screen TV, the mantelpiece and fire place the cleaner had dusted earlier that day. The fire place didn't even work-it was just for show. And it was for show. It looked as if it belonged in a stately home, or something. The expensive sound system, the sheer breadth of the place- the Hummel-Hudson's whole downstairs area would probably have fitted inside.

There were photos in silver frames artistically arranged on the walls. She looked around. There weren't many…why weren't there many photos? The Hummels had a thousand photos of Kurt and Finn dotted around everywhere…why hadn't she taken more photos of the boys when they were little?

She looked up, just above the fireplace, where there were two big prints on the wall. One was of a twelve-year-old Cooper, grinning in his charming, lopsided manner, sat in a professional studio with a little, curly two-year-old Blaine sat on his lap, looking curiously into the camera, clutching onto his brother's shirt sleeve. They'd always been so close…

The other photo was a wedding photo. As she looked at herself, just twenty years old, twenty-eight years ago…God, she was forty-eight. That was not something she shared with many people-but she was. Forty-eight…

Twenty years old in that photo-in a beautiful wedding dress. The full works-white, flowing, huge train…and a big white veil, with a little silver tiara on her neatly curled hair. This was before the work on her teeth, so her mouth was carefully closed-but she was beaming. Her made-up eyes were wide, bright, so full of hope…and hanging onto the arm of…

There he was. Right beside her. Stood stiff, in a severe black suit-not so different from the ones he wore every day. Hair already going a little grey-he was seven years her senior-but that hadn't mattered at the time. What mattered was-he was rich.

That was all that had mattered in her silly, superficial head.

Although…had she loved him?

At one point, surely? And him her?

But look at his face in the photo. Straight. Mouth a thin line. He looked just like Blaine-it was uncanny-but…there was none of Blaine's sparkle. No brightness. No warmth. No big, happy smile.

He was looking at her, eyes slanted toward his young wife…but there was nothing in his face.

Not like the way Burt was looking at Carole in their wedding photos-and no offence, but Carole was a lot older than her at her second wedding…but the way Burt was looking at her…Like she was a queen, the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen, on that day…

Not like the way Burt looked in his first wedding photos, one of which remained on a shelf in the Hummel-Hudson living room. His first wife, Elizabeth…She was young too, very young-and very, very beautiful. She wasn't even wearing much make-up, her dress very simple…she looked just like Kurt…the way the younger Burt was looking at her. Like he was almost bewildered by her-why had this woman settled for him?

What about the way Blaine looked at Kurt?

The way Kurt looked at Blaine?

And what of this wedding photo…the happiest day of her husband's life, where he married the person whom he'd spend the rest of his life with?

In his eyes…

Nothing.

Forty-eight…and what had she of her own to show for it?

Yes, two amazing sons, whom she loved with all her heart despite everything, and a beautiful granddaughter on the way…

But she couldn't even stand on her own two feet.

She hadn't even paid for her own shoes…or the manicured nails digging into her palms. She looked at the little scented candles settled around the windows, the neat bouquets of fake flowers carefully arranged, the little sculptures on the glass coffee table…

That coffee table…she swore, there was still a small, faint, reddish brown stain on the white carpet from where Blaine had…

It made her sick. She was sitting in a room, where her son's blood stained the floor. She felt physically ill.

Spilled by the man in her wedding picture.

"Maria? Maria?"

The voice came from behind her. The low-pitched, monotone voice that had told her what to do for the last twenty-eight years.

She remembered a time when Blaine was about eight years old, and had just watched West Side Story with his nanny for the first time. Maria, Maria…he'd been honoured to discover his mother shared the main female protagonist's name, just as he had been after watching The Sound Of MusicYour name's in lots of movies, Mommy

She remembered, sitting in this very seat, while her Blaine, in his pure, unbroken voice, sweet as the angels, sang Maria to her. The most beautiful sound I ever heard…indeed.

She wished she hadn't cut him off to get ready for bed before he'd finished. She wished she'd held his hands, smiled into his big, honey-coloured eyes, ruffled his crazy, gorgeous curls and told him how he'd made her heart melt, how special he was to her…instead of waving him away, letting the nanny take him off for a bath while she knocked back the red wine…

She had never felt more ashamed of anything in her life…

"Maria? Are you in there?"

"Yes!" she called back, automatically.

A few seconds later…her husband entered the room, glass in hand, brimming with red liquid. He spent a lot more time outside his study now that Blaine was gone…Without so much as a hello to her, he strode over to the mantelpiece, running a finger along it critically.

"Honestly, I think we need a new cleaner…"

Maria swallowed. She said nothing.

"Wine?" he offered her suddenly, indicating his own glass.

"No, thank you," She shook her head, resolutely resisting what had been her only rock.

The husband looked surprised. "Suit yourself," He looked up at the wedding photo on the wall, in it's silver-framed glory…then to the one of the much younger Blaine and Cooper…

"Maybe we should take these down, you know? They're a bit-especially this one," He indicated the one of their sons-

"NO!"

Maria had stood up before she'd even noticed, the pillow she was clutching falling to the floor.

"NO!"

Mr Anderson started slightly. Slowly, the turned around to face his wife.

Maria breathed hard. A wave of fear shot through her heart as she looked at the stain on the carpet, remembering what had happened the last time someone had shouted at this man…but gritted her teeth. She stared him out, unblinking.

"No," she hissed under her breath. "Leave it where it is. Please,"

Mr Anderson was shocked…but even-a little amused. "Goodness, Maria, bit of an overreaction? Now, sit down, and-"

"No," She stood firm.

Mr Anderson blinked. "I'm sorry…what?"

His voice had suddenly become dangerous…

"No," Maria repeated, clenching her fists. "As long as I live, I will never sit down in this living room again! Never!"

Mr Anderson's face was beginning to cloud over. "What do you-"

"I mean, I'm leaving, Edward! I'm leaving you, I'm leaving this God-damned hell of a house!"

Her voice echoed through the silent rooms.

"I've had my bags packed for days," She breathed heavily. "I'm finally doing what I should have done twenty-eight years ago, when the preacher asked me if I would have you. I'm running away,"

Mr Anderson's brow creased. Questions flashed through his eyes-above all, he looked shell-shocked. But Maria wasn't done.

"No, in fact, scratch that! Without you, I wouldn't have had my boys. That's it-boys, Edward! You know, the little curly one who used to dance up and down the stairs, who you tore down, made him believe he was nothing, who's skull you almost fractured. And the other one-our Cooper-my Cooper, who you said would be president some day when he was born-but let's not go into what happened with him! What you did to him!

"I am ashamed of myself. I am ashamed that I can't look after myself, or, more importantly, my children. I am ashamed I can still stand to be in the same room as you! I am ashamed that I didn't take my children and walk out the minute I could! I am ashamed I am still here with you!"

She took a deep breath.

"I'm ashamed of myself. I should have gone straight to the authorities the minute I found out about what you did to my Cooper. But…I didn't…" She looked down. "I didn't because I was scared. I was scared about what would happen-whether I'd be told I was an unfit mother for not noticing sooner. And I was. I had no right to those two wonderful young men. They deserve so much better than me…and they deserved anyone but you.

"I should have told someone right away, but I didn't-because I was scared of what you'd do to me. How you'd tear me…

"But not now. Not now. Today, Maria Anderson-darn it, Maria Carter-Rose-is finally doing something freaking good! I'm leaving!"

Without a moment's hesitation-Maria slid the huge, diamond wedding ring from her finger…and dropped it on the floor at Mr Anderson's feet.

"I'm leaving…" She breathed heavily-before looking up with disgust at the still silent man before her. "Thank you, Edward, for everything," she snarled, in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "But now-it's over. This was never a marriage. And I am no longer your wife. I'm me again. I will not be controlled by you any longer,"

A feeling whipped through Maria's veins. Euphoria…strength…something she hadn't felt in a long time…

"I will get my stuff," she said, slowly. "And then I never want to see your face again,"

Slowly…she turned on her heel…and, without looking back, began to march confidently toward the door-a new sensation filling her veins…

Freedom

Maria Carter-Rose was a new woman. She was a mother. A grandmother. She was no one's show piece, no one's arm candy at office parties. She was her own person. And she would start again. She was strong, independent-like Carole said. And she was leaving. She was-

She never made it to the door.