Author's Note:

This chapter is again from modern Kurt's point of view. Chapter 8 is the big turning point in the story, and I have to warn you that it contains heavy stuff. Hate Crimes, Gay Bashing, Blood and Violence and the like. Lots of angst, but please hang in there. I promise you there is a happy ending in store for Kurt and Blaine. You have my word.

By all means let me know what you're thinking - I love to hear from my readers.

Chapter 8: To the Rescue

2016

The next weekend, Kurt was almost expecting Blaine to turn up again as he sat sketching in the park, and yes, just as he got started on his second sketch, he heard a soft voice say, "There you are. I've been looking for you forever."

Kurt looked up.

Blaine was hovering next to Kurt's bench, looking more serious than Kurt had ever seen him.

"Can we talk for a bit?"

Kurt nodded and put his sketchbook away.

"Remember what I told you last time? The fight before my father left? You advised me to ask my mother about it. So I did. But it's kind of…"

Blaine cut off abruptly, and his Adam's apple went up and down.

When he didn't resume his story, Kurt said, "I'm listening. No judgement, I promise."

Blaine sat down next to Kurt, and started talking again, his voice low and fervent. "My mother named me after my great-grandfather's younger brother. She saw pictures of him in a family photo album while my great-grandmother was still alive, and asked about him, because there were pictures of him up until my great-grandparents' wedding, but none after that. So my great-grandmother told her the whole story. Apparently, this Blaine worked as a singer. Same as me. And he was gay. Just like me. And one day, he was caught making out with another guy, and he was beaten up and left to die. He was 24."

Kurt let out his breath in a big woosh. "Wow."

"Yeah."

"What happened to the other guy?"

"The thugs that killed Blaine said the other guy ran away. But there was some doubt."

"Doubt about what?" Kurt asked.

"Whether it was a guy they'd seen with Blaine. One of the thugs said he wasn't sure. The other said it was a guy all right. The one who'd stolen his girl, or so he claimed. But that guy had an alibi. He'd spent the whole night with his girl and her family. And they, of course, said the thug was just jealous and trying to make trouble."

"I see."

"And… Get this… The guy's name was Kurt Hummel."

Blaine looked at Kurt meaningfully.

"Yep, that would be my great-grandfather that I told you about."

Blaine ran a hand through his hair. "So they really were seeing each other?"

"Yep," Kurt confirmed. "As much as that was possible in those days, I guess."

Blaine grabbed Kurt's arm, and then let go again with an apology when that made Kurt flinch. "But then how did he get that alibi?"

Kurt shrugged. "I don't know."

"And do you think my father was right? About me dying in the same way? Did my mother tempt fate by naming me Blaine?"

Kurt looked at Blaine, horrified. "No! Blaine, please, you can't think that. People are so much more tolerant these days. The chances of you being gay-bashed are very low. Especially here in New York City. Your father is wrong. So wrong."

Blaine stared at him with an anxious expression. "But what if?"

"No. No what ifs. Whatever happens will happen whether you stress over it or not. Don't live your life scared of being true to yourself. Don't try to please everyone, 'cause that's impossible. Just be you. Do your dream job. Love your boyfriend. And let go of worries that will lead you nowhere. Okay?"

Blaine's eyes were wide as he took in Kurt's rant, and his worry lines deepened even further. He mumbled something to himself that sounded like "Easier said than done", and then mustered up a smile for Kurt. "Well, thank you for listening to me. And now I'll let you get back to your work. Have a nice weekend!"

"You too."

K&B

Kurt looked around contentedly. He'd worked his fingers to the bone and stayed up late far too many days, but the result was spectacular, if he said so himself. He'd made a dozen outfits in all, six for Lieselotte and six for Blaine. To top it all off, he'd made an outfit for himself that tied in perfectly with his collection, in the hope that his work would be featured in the end-of-year exhibition at Parsons Festival.

He tried on the jacket and frowned.

Hmm… What's missing?

He looked through his accessories and had just decided on a collar pin when he came across the rose brooch. Which was… glowing? What on earth was going on?

Kurt meant to pick up the brooch and examine it, but as soon as his fingers touched it, he felt a jerking motion behind his navel, his head whirled and his vision blurred for a moment.

As soon as he could see again, he saw that he was standing in front of The Dalton. Somehow, the brooch had taken him back to the 1920s. Kurt looked at it in wonder. The blue pulsating glow surrounding it had faded, and now it just looked like an ordinary brooch again.

Kurt put it in his inside pocket so as not to lose it again and looked through the window to check if his great-grandfather was in the ballroom.

He didn't see him, but he did see the Hartz family, who spotted him and waved.

All right then, looks like I'm going inside…

As he approached the Hartzes' table, Lieselotte jumped up. "Surprise! What do you think?"

Kurt's mouth fell open. For weeks, he'd envisioned Lieselotte as she would look if she embraced the flapper style. And now, he saw his visions come to life.

Lieselotte's hair was styled in a short bob cut, and she was wearing a grey dress with intricate detailing that hugged her figure in all the right places.

"Oh, wow!" he whispered.

He heard Mr. Hartz chuckle. "The boy's just fallen in love all over again! Look at him making sheep's eyes at her. Aww!"

"You like it?" Lieselotte asked shyly.

Kurt picked up his jaw from where it had hit the floor and smiled at her. "I LOVE it! Your hair! It's like it was always meant to look this way. And the dress! It's perfect. In every way."

"It's exactly like your sketch," Lieselotte announced, taking a small card from her purse and waving it in front of Kurt.

He saw a drawing of a silhouette wearing a similar dress and hairstyle. Had his great-grandfather made this sketch? Not bad…

"It is," Kurt agreed. "Whoever made this dress did a very good job. You look STUNNING."

Lieselotte blushed. "Thank you."

"May I have this dance, my lady?" Kurt asked with a bow.

Lieselotte giggled and took his outstretched hand.

Soon, they were dancing, Lieselotte talking Kurt's ears off about everything and nothing. Kurt looked for Blaine, but someone else was singing with the band. Not half as well as Blaine, in Kurt's opinion, but hey, maybe he'd be back later? It seemed to be early in the evening, and that was usually when Blaine took his break, if Kurt remembered correctly.

After three or four dances, Lieselotte said she was thirsty, so Kurt brought her back to her family's table, and struck up a conversation with Lieselotte's uncle again, this time about car design.

Apparently, Kurt's great-grandfather didn't only sketch dresses, but cars as well.

Well, that was more his father's area of expertise, but Kurt knew enough about it to discuss the subject with Mr. Hartz, at length and in detail.

So engrossed was he in the conversation that he didn't notice someone approaching their table.

All of a sudden, his chair was tugged back, and when he looked up, a guy with crazy eyes and blood on his hands spit him in the eye.

"So this is where you've run to, is it? Shame on you for crawling to your girl's family to protect you. Coward! If they knew what you are they'd lynch you for so much as touching their precious girl."

Kurt wiped the spit off his face, grimacing, and then asked, "Who are you? And what are you on about?"

"You! Running away just now when we wanted to teach you and Anderson a lesson for being so disgusting. You washed the blood off your face and put on a different jacket, but I know it's you."

Kurt quirked an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, a second rough-looking guy arrived and spoke up. "You sure, though, man? You socked 'im in the nose but good. And this guy's nose looks normal."

"Huh, I can put that to rights in a jiffy!"

Before Kurt could so much as duck, the guy's fist hit his nose with a sickening crack.

Both Lieselotte and her mother screamed, and Kurt cursed, feeling blood trickle from his nose, and patted his jacket for a handkerchief. But of course, seeing as he'd only just finished making the jacket, there was nothing in the pockets yet, except for the rose brooch.

"Here," said Lieselotte, handing him her hanky.

The crazy guy's friend only just stopped him from punching Kurt again by pulling him away by his collar, hissing, "Not here!"

"What is going on here?" boomed Mr. Hartz. "What's your problem with Kurt?"

"My problem," sneered the crazy guy, "is that he's a fucking faggot. We caught him just minutes ago, with that singer, Anderson."

Though his heart was jack-rabbiting by now, Kurt managed to keep his cool. "I've been here all evening. Anyone in this room can attest to that. Whoever it was you saw, it wasn't me. You need glasses, man. And you need to apologise to the girl you hurt."

"It wasn't a girl!"

"Excuse me for not trusting your eyesight. Plenty of girls have short hair these days," Kurt scoffed, and he winked at Lieselotte. "Don't they, sweetie?"

Lieselotte ran a hand over her bob cut and grinned at Kurt.

"It was a guy, I swear! And he looked just like you."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "So now I have a doppelgänger, do I? This is getting better and better. Oh, I think I know what's happening here… Darling, is this a suitor of yours?"

Lieselotte looked at the man and nodded. "His name is Steve. I've danced with him. He doesn't dance half as well as you, and he kept grabbing… You know…"

She glanced down at her bosom. Her uncle chuckled, but her father looked daggers at Steve.

"I thought so," said Kurt. "Sour grapes, huh? Can't bear it that the lovely Miss Hartz chose me and not you, so now you're trying to start rumours about me, is that it?"

By now, Steve was pretty much foaming at the mouth. "She needs a real man, and not a fairy like you!"

Slowly, Kurt got up from his chair so he could tower over the scorned suitor, and he made sure to flex his biceps into the bargain. He saw Steve eye his arm muscles and swallow.

Kurt looked down his nose at him and said in his iciest tone. "What was that you said?"

Steve squared his jaw. "A real man doesn't sound like a little girl."

Kurt grabbed the short hairs in Steve's neck and tugged them until he yelped. The sound was high and shrill.

"I guess you're not a man, then, either," Kurt shrugged. Next to him, Lieselotte smothered a giggle.

"Let me go!"

"No. You'll stay here until the police arrive to take you into custody."

"For what?!"

"For attacking people and beating them up."

"It's good that I killed Anderson. He was a filthy homosexual! I caught him necking another guy! That's a sin!"

Kurt's eyes flashed. "You know what's a sin? Murder! Killing a man who's kissing his sweetheart, and roughing her up too, just because she looked like me and you were jealous of me. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

Steve visibly deflated. For the first time, Kurt could see doubt creeping into his eyes.

"You better hope the man isn't dead!" Kurt continued. "Is there a doctor in the room, who can go check?"

He looked around, and sure enough, an older guy got up and ordered one of the waiters to take him to the entertainers' dressing rooms.

"I called the police, sir," said another waiter to Kurt, and he and his boss led the two brawlers away.

Kurt sighed and sagged in his chair. He wanted nothing more than to run to Blaine, but he knew he couldn't. As for the other Kurt, he hoped he'd hidden himself somewhere he wouldn't be found.

"I don't care what Steve says, I like your voice," said Lieselotte, and she put her hand on his arm.

Kurt smiled at her and patted her hand softly. "Thank you, sweetie. Are you okay? Were you scared?"

"Not with you next to me," Lieselotte murmured, and she put her head on his shoulder. "You were amazing."

Mr. Hartz clapped Kurt's other shoulder. "She's right. You dealt well with that guy. Not one to let people walk all over you, huh? I like your spunk, kid. You'll go far with that attitude."

Kurt saw Lieselotte's father nod. That was the first time he'd reacted positively to anything Kurt did. Far from rejoicing about it, he was frozen inside, thinking of Blaine and what had happened to him.

"Kurt, honey, are you all right?" Lieselotte murmured.

He shook his head. "No, not really. I can't help feeling guilty. A man and his sweetheart got beaten up because Crazy Steve was jealous of me. I really hope he's not dead. And that girl has a broken nose now, poor dear! I know I'm not the one who hurt them, but I still feel guilty."

Lieselotte nodded, her face glum. "Me too. I should never ever have danced with him. I could tell he was a creep. I should just have told him no."

She burst into tears, and Kurt took her in his arms, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Oh, sweetie… Go on, let it all out. You'll feel better. This is hard for both of us, but we'll get through it together. I'm here for you."

Kurt kissed the top of her head and whispered, "Love you, sweetie."

That made her look up and smile through her tears.

"I wish I had a handkerchief to offer you, but I'm afraid this one won't do…" Kurt grimaced at the bloody hanky he'd used for his nose. "And I forgot to put one in my jacket."

Lieselotte's mother came to the rescue, and soon Lieselotte's tears were all mopped up, and she was sipping from a new glass of fruit punch.

Then the doctor arrived back into the ballroom, and marched straight towards the Hartz family table, his face grim.

Lieselotte gripped Kurt's hand tightly.

"How are the patients doing, Doctor?" Kurt asked.

The doctor sighed. "No sign of the girl. Must have run off at the first sign of trouble. A pro skirt, I guess."

Mr. Hartz elbowed the doctor and pointed towards his niece with his chin.

"Oh, yes. Ahem… Well… Anyway… The man was still there. Blaine Anderson. The singer from the band here. And I'm afraid those two hoodlums were right. He's dying. Unfortunately. There's nothing I can do to save him. Too much damage inside the body."

Lieselotte let out a soft cry and fainted, her dead weight falling against Kurt, who put his arm around her reflexively.

Kurt felt numb and cold. He had known Blaine would be gay-bashed and left for dead, but he had also hoped he'd somehow be able to save him. After all, why else did he keep coming here? Not to help his great-grandfather court his future wife, surely?

"He mentioned you, Mr. Hummel," the doctor continued.

Kurt's head snapped up in shock.

"He said, 'Tell Kurt Hummel he's not to blame'."

Kurt gaped at the doctor, not knowing what to say to that.

"That was very kind of him," said Lieselotte's mother softly. "Those thugs must have mentioned Kurt while they…"

She stifled a sob. "Oh, that poor boy's parents!"

"There's only his mother left, they told me," said the doctor. "Blaine lived with her and sang here to pay the bills."

"So she'll have no income now?" Kurt asked, blanching.

The doctor shook his head. "She have to take in washing. Or lodgers, if her older son will let her keep the house."

Oh, that wouldn't do!

"Could I go see Mr. Anderson?" Kurt requested. "I want to promise him I will look after his mother for as long as I live. That's the least I can do."

The doctor shrugged. "Maybe he's already dead by now. But sure, come along."

Lieselotte, who had in the meantime come to, put her arm in the crook of Kurt's elbow. "I'm coming with you."

"Oh, now, Miss, I don't think that's a good idea. You'll just faint again when you see him. It's not a pretty sight."

But Lieselotte would not be swayed, and Kurt didn't want to lose time and risk Blaine being dead before he could speak to him, so he said he'd take care of her if she felt faint.

They fell into step behind the doctor, and before long, they reached the room where the assault had taken place.

The doctor knocked on the door, and when he heard a sound from within, he turned to them and said, "Seems the chap's still alive, Mr. Hummel. Go on in. You can find your own way back to the ballroom?"

Kurt nodded and thanked the doctor. He opened the door with his heart hammering.

Blaine was lying in the middle of the room, his arms and legs bent in unnatural positions, his face bloodied and swollen.

It was a gruesome sight, and Lieselotte clapped a hand over her mouth as she stifled a scream.

Blaine opened his eyes with difficulty, and when he recognized Kurt, he let out a hoarse whisper. "Kurt!"

"Yes, that's me," said Kurt, pretending he didn't know Blaine at all. "Don't force yourself to speak, please. I'm so sorry about all of this. And I've come here to promise I will look after your mother when you're gone. She will want for nothing. I'll make sure of that."

Blaine blinked at him.

"She'll be like family to us," Lieselotte said. "We'll make sure she's not lonely."

Blaine coughed out a garbled thank you, as well as a large amount of blood.

Lieselotte made a choked-up sound, gripped Kurt's arm and fainted again.

"Pssst!"

Someone popped out from behind a corner. It should not have surprised Kurt that it was his great-grandfather.

"I smoothed things over for you," Kurt said. "I can see in the mirror that our bloodied noses look about the same, and our trousers too. Let's swap jackets, then you can take over Lieselotte, and I will make myself scarce."

"Thank you. I just wanted… to say goodbye. To Blaine. One last time, before… Well, you know. Proposing. Marrying. Giving Blaine up forever. And it was… everything. Until they came in. I was so scared."

Kurt bit back all the bitter retorts he might make to that, chanting in his head, "Not my place to judge. Not my place to judge. Not my place to judge."

They managed the swap before Lieselotte came to, and now Kurt was the one hiding behind the corner.

"Are you okay, Lottie?" he heard his great-grandfather ask.

She nodded. "Maybe we'd better leave, though."

They turned to go, and at that moment, there was a hoarse sound, probably from Blaine.

Kurt would not have understood what he said, but Lieselotte did. "You want us to tell your mother you love her? We will. I promise we will."

Kurt very much doubted Blaine was thinking about his mother. His love was all for Kurt's great-grandfather, even though that love of his life had just cowardly run off and left Blaine to those two thugs' tender mercies. Even though Blaine was dying as a result.

His great-grandfather looked back at Blaine, swallowed, and then steered Lieselotte out of the room.

Kurt, knowing he had little time before someone else came in, jumped from behind the corner and asked Blaine if there was anything he could do for him.

Blaine pointed to a desk with a few books on it and gargled something that sounded like "Letters".

So Kurt rifled through the desk, took out everything that looked like a letter and showed them to Blaine. "These?"

Blaine nodded.

"I'll take them home. Then no-one will ever find them."

Blaine whispered, "Tell him… Not his fault."

"If ever I see my great-grandfather again, I'll tell him."

Blaine coughed up more blood, and managed another few words. "Needs… to know."

"I'll tell him. I promise."

Blaine closed his eyes and looked at peace. It didn't even look as though he was breathing anymore, and when Kurt came closer, he saw why. Blaine had slipped into death as though falling asleep.

Kurt looked at the letters he held, and tried to put them into his inside pocket, but something was in the way. He grabbed the thing, and then stared.

Of course. He was wearing his great-grandfather's jacket now. Who was planning on proposing to Lieselotte, probably this evening. Which was why he had a ring box in his jacket, with… yes, an engagement ring inside.

Ugh. Ah well, he had promised to pass on Blaine's last message, so he might as well bring back the ring while he was at it.

Kurt stuffed the letters in his inside pocket and put the ring box in his trouser pocket.

Now, where would he find his great-grandfather?

"Don't forget your promise."

Kurt jumped about a foot in the air. Who was speaking to him? Had someone come into the room while he was distracted with the letters?

He turned around and saw Blaine. Or rather, a see-through, rather shimmery version of the man that disappeared if you looked at it straight on.

A ghost?! Well, sure. Let's add that to the paranormal list, why not?

"Do you know where my great-grandfather lives?" Kurt asked.

Ghost Blaine shook his head.

Ugh, another complication. And Kurt couldn't just go walking in the streets here and be recognized. Unless…

"Do you have theatre stuff here? Fake moustaches or beards?"

Ghost Blaine laughed, and then pointed him to a wardrobe in the corner. "We had a magician perform tricks here, once. He was so bad that Bob wouldn't even let him stay after the intermission and sent him off without pay – and without one of his suitcases. Try that one. Plenty of costumes and disguises in it."

Kurt put on a moustache and beard combo that made him unrecognizable, and slipped out of the hotel to find his great-grandfather.

He didn't have far to go, for the man in question ran full tilt towards him and wanted to barrel past him into the hotel.

Kurt stopped him and tugged him into the shadows, hissing, "It's me. I've got your ring."

His great-grandfather, who had tensed up, sagged against the wall, and then said, "I've got your brooch."

They swapped the jewellery, and again, Kurt stopped his great-grandfather from leaving. "Look after Blaine's mother. Promise me."

His great-grandfather nodded. "I will."

"Also, Blaine wanted me to tell you it's not your fault, and that you shouldn't blame yourself."

"And that I love him and always will," Ghost Blaine added.

"And that he loves you and always will."

Kurt's great-grandfather stifled a sob, and after a hoarse "Thank you", he ran off.

"Well, that's my work here done," Kurt remarked. "But now how do I get back to my own time?"

A gust of wind enveloped him, and Kurt felt himself propelled elsewhere. Dizzy, he closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he was back in his own apartment, blinking at his thesis collection, and hanging over a chair, the trousers of a suit he'd never wear now, seeing as the jacket was gone.

He let out a long, shuddery breath and sank down onto the chair, his head in his hands.

"So you're a tailor?" someone said behind him.

Kurt gasped and whirled around to see who was speaking.

Ghost Blaine smiled at him sheepishly. "Sorry. Didn't mean to frighten you."

"What are you still doing here?" Kurt asked. "I passed your message on to my great-grandfather, didn't I?"

The ghost's shimmer dimmed, and his smile disappeared.

"Sorry!" Kurt hastened to say. "I didn't mean to make you feel unwelcome. I was just wondering, that's all. I don't know how any of this works. Maybe there's something else I need to do for you?"

Ghost Blaine shrugged.

Kurt yawned until his jaw popped. "Well, I'm going to bed. I'm exhausted. Feel free to… whatever it is ghosts do, I guess."

"Goodnight, Kurt."

"Good- *yaaaawn* -night."