Title: Keeping the Balance (6b/9?)
Author:
sun_and_rain
Rating:
PG-13
Warning:
deals with issues of consent, homophobia, and memory loss
Summary:
No one recognized the name when Kurt first spoke it–a name he'd found buried somewhere in his dreams–but he couldn't shake the feeling that it was important: "Blaine". Whatever had been taken from them had something to do with Blaine.


Chapter Summary: Kurt and Mercedes try Rachel. Things begin to fall into place.


A/N: I am so sincerely sorry for the wait, and so absolutely humbled by all of your continued faith in me. Really, it's taken forever to write this chapter, and your sweet words and understanding have been more than I ever expected. Thank you so much for all your love, you are all incredible. Finally, finally, finally, here is the second half of the chapter. I hope you enjoy it! Things are going to get crazy town next chapter.

Quick reminder since it's been so long:

-Headcanon asks and comments are on my tumblr under the tag left over headcannon

-soundtrack for the whole series is on my tumblr under left over soundtrack

-you can track my writing with the sun writes things sometimes and you can track this specific story with the tag left over: keeping the balance

That's it! Can't wait to see what you think! This chapter was difficult.


Chapter Six B: Remember Sammy Jankis


"You told me he was never coming back," Karofsky's words echoed in his head as the TV flickered colors in front of him. Kurt couldn't make himself pay attention to who Bachelorette Lindsay was going on a date with. His mind was spinning with countless impossible fabrications.

Why would he have told Karofsky that Blaine wasn't coming back? Had he been involved somehow?

He must have. He must have been involved with the people who took Blaine away. Or he must have been told that Blaine was going to be taken, and had been trying to prevent it from happening. Maybe he had dreamt it. Maybe he had planned to hide Blaine away from the rest of the world until his kidnappers left them alone. Maybe he had organized the entire plot with Mercedes, making a deal: Blaine for their lives.

(Kurt… Blaine whispered soft in his ear.)

Had he really been involved? Had Kurt let Blaine be taken? It was too disturbing a thought to dwell on, but he couldn't shake the dread creeping its fingers over his heart. How else would he have known Blaine was never coming back?

(Kurt, came the voice again, urgent and muffled.)

And then there was that shadow hovering like a dark raincloud just above his reach. 'You're just fascinating, aren't you?' The memory of an unbearable thirst. A painful need that consumed his thoughts. The lingering shiver of something horrible prickling his skin. There was something about the role he played in all of this that—

KURT!Blaine screamed, voice tearing as it shot like lightning through his body and Kurt leapt back against the couch as a phantom with molten gold for eyes and claws for fingers lunged for him—his head splitting open and something too hot shooting through his chest—

"Kurt?" Mercedes asked softly.

Kurt gasped raggedly and the nightmare was gone. Clutching at his chest, he felt his heart drumming fast and hard against his hand, his head pounding faintly in echo of it.

Mercedes gently touched his arm. "What is it, boo?"

Kurt looked from her to the empty space where the phantom had been. It was gone. He grasped at his calm, scouring the room in front of him for a clue to where it had disappeared to. He shook his head violently, breathing fast.

"You didn't see that?" he demanded.

Mercedes frowned. "See what?"

Kurt didn't know how to answer. He shook his head and closed his eyes, pressing his free palm to his forehead as his blood began to slow to a manageable rate.

"Nothing," he finally muttered. "Just… nerves." He blew out a shaking breath and loosened his grip on his shirt, letting both his hands drop.

Mercedes watched him closely. "We'll go to Rachel again tomorrow. She has to know something that Karofsky isn't telling us. We'll see her, Kurt."

He nodded silently. After a while, Mercedes turned back to the TV. Kurt let his head fall on the arm rest of the couch, shifting down to get comfortable. His heart thumped loudly in his ears.

(Kurt…. the monster with the gold eyes whispered.)

He squeezed his eyes shut and pretended he couldn't hear it.


It was empty. No one was there.

"Blaine?" Kurt called.

Emptiness threw his voice back at him. Kurt's skin prickled at the stillness.

Suddenly, Blaine flashed past him—moving erratically, belatedly, like he couldn't quite get a handle on his body. His eyes were molten gold and useless, stuck still in his face like he'd forgotten their purpose. Kurt jumped back as he was brushed by, recoiling from the horrible, bastardized puppet of the boy he loved. This wasn't Blaine. This was animalistic, raw, feral. Kurt fought the fear threatening to choke him. This couldn't be Blaine. It couldn't be, not yet!

"Please, hold on," he said through hopeless tears. "I'm coming. I promise, I'm coming to you! Please, please..."

Blaine disappeared: flickered once, right in front of his eyes, and was gone. Panic clawed out of Kurt's chest. "BLAINE!"

Arms grabbed at him quickly, turned him around. Kurt shrieked—and then collapsed in relief.

Blaine as he was, as Kurt knew him before the start of the nightmare, stood exhausted and worried in front of him. His edges were blurring, and his hands shaking, but he was there—he was Blaine. Kurt clung to him as he searched Kurt's face intently.

"What is it?" he asked, voice so sweet Kurt ached with it. Kurt kissed him desperately instead of answering, shaking his head and clutching at his arms when Blaine tried to pull away.

"Kurt—hey, it's okay. It's okay, calm down—"

"You have to wait for me," Kurt begged, grasping at Blaine's shoulders, his neck, his hair. "I have Mercedes with me, now, and she's going to help. We're going to talk to Rachel and we're going to find you. You have to hang in there and wait for me!"

"I will," Blaine assured him. "I'm fine, Kurt, we're fine. I can wait. It's okay, I can wait for you." He brought a hand up to cup Kurt's face.

Except that it didn't come up the way a normal hand would. It jerked to the side—as if he couldn't quite control where it was going—before resting stiffly on Kurt's cheek.

Kurt's heart stopped.

Blaine lids fell closed in slow resignation.

Kurt could do nothing but stare. Then, firmly, Kurt reached up and grasped the offending hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. Tightly. He kept a careful eye on Blaine as he held his hand, covering their clasped hands with his other. They didn't speak.

Blaine's hand twitched uncontrollably in his.

There was nothing either of them could say.


He hadn't brought cookies this time. He had been too unnerved when he woke up to bake anything that morning, so there were no cookies.

After their talk with Karofsky had yielded nothing of substance, they had gone straight to Rachel's house yesterday. When they arrived, though, they found the same blockade of parents that had prevented Kurt from seeing her the last time he'd tried. No matter how much pleading Kurt and Mercedes did, the Mr.'s Berry would only promise to pass on the message. Their drooping shoulders and disappointed faces were then kindly escorted out the door. It was only after Kurt's minor freak-out in front of the Bachelorette that Mercedes suggested they skip class the next day to try to see her.

"We can get to her when her parents are at work," she said. "She's gotta know something. Why would she be so upset otherwise?"

She had suggested it for him, Kurt knew. If he hadn't been jumpier than usual lately, she probably wouldn't have wanted to skip school to pursue Rachel at all. Kurt appreciated the unrelenting optimism; his was running on low. Nights with Blaine were getting increasingly alarming—Blaine would forget words, spend hours staring into nothing, and sometimes move as if he was surrounded by an ocean of water. Most startling, he'd started to flicker like an image from a broken TV set. Kurt didn't know what it all meant, but he was terrified it had something to do with Blaine's insistence that someone was going to die if they didn't fix things. Kurt didn't know what he would do if he had to go through losing Blaine after spending all this time trying to remember him.

Everything had begun to seem hopeless and inevitable. But it couldn't be. He couldn't let himself think that. Rachel would see them because she had to see them—because there was no other option but for her to see them. Kurt would accept nothing less.

Which was why he was currently climbing up the trellis of her house, hoping that she wasn't the kind of person that took to locking her windows during the day.

"Is she even in her room?" Mercedes called up to him from her spot beneath the trellis. "If the front door is locked…"

"I'll let you know when I get into her room," Kurt hissed back. "Keep your voice down, someone will hear us!"

But it was too late—someone had already heard them, and their plan was blown before it was even properly begun. Kurt looked up to find the next open hand-hold on the trellis, and found himself face to face with one Rachel Berry, who had popped up behind the window. He almost slipped in surprise, clinging tightly to the wood and vines covering the house.

"Rachel!" he cried out in reflex. "Oh! We—"

"What are you doing?" She interrupted him angrily. Besides the obviously dark circles under her eyes, she looked exactly like the Rachel he had sat with a few months ago. "Did you come to make fun of me for being a crazy freak who has to be homeschooled?"

"What?" She was being homeschooled? "No!"

"Did Finn send you?" Vulnerability laced through her expression, and Kurt wondered again what was going on between her and his step-brother.

"Finn doesn't even know we're here," Kurt was quick to assure her. "Rachel, I just want to talk to you."

"So you decide to break into my house? Quinn says you've been asking about me in Glee club. I don't have anything to say to you." She was a stone wall. "Go home, Kurt."

"Mercedes is here, too," He protested lamely, as if that would somehow change her mind. He gripped the trellis he was still clinging to, fighting frustration. This was quickly spiraling out of his control.

Rachel leaned out the window to see Mercedes staring up at them. "Mercedes, take Kurt and go home. I don't want to talk to you."

"Just give us a few minutes!" Kurt was beginning to remember why he and Rachel were not friends. They couldn't waste time like this—for all Kurt knew, Blaine could be dying as they were having this conversation. "We need to talk!"

"I don't want to talk."

"You can't hide away forever," Kurt pressed, frustration tensing his shoulders. "We can help you!"

"I don't need your help."

"God, Rachel, stop being so stubborn!" he exploded. "Just let us in! Not everything is about you! Sometimes people have actual problems that they need to deal with, and you know what they do? They deal with them. They don't just lock themselves in their room and refuse their friends when they come asking for their help! This is serious! Would you just take a second and think of someone other than yourself for one minute?"

"Kurt!" came Mercedes' voice. "Stop."

Kurt looked down at her in surprise before glancing back up at Rachel.

Oh. Shit.

Rachel's eyes were red and glazed with the tears that had already begun tracking down her cheeks. Her lips trembled as they pressed into a hard line. Shit.

"Get off of my house," she said, voice low and graveled over.

"Rachel—" he began quietly. Her hands shot up to slam her window shut. "No, wait—!" He moved to try to stop her, but the bang of the window hitting the sill stopped him in his tracks, echoing finitely in his ears. The drapes closed.

Kurt was going to cry. Angrily, he hit his hand against the side of the house, bowing his head against the trellis. That was stupid, that had been so stupid. He looked back down at Mercedes helplessly.

"Get your ass down here," she said angrily, arms crossed. "What the hell was that? I thought you wanted her to let us in!"

"I don't know! I panicked!" He made his way carefully down the trellis, wanting to kick himself. "I'm just stressed!"

"So you take it out on the girl who's been bursting into tears all month? Good idea."

"I need to find him. He doesn't have a lot of time left," Kurt told her urgently.

"Well you aren't gonna find him like that," Mercedes snapped at him. Kurt jumped down from the bottom of the trellis, running a frustrated hand down his clothes and cursing under his breath. Mercedes watched him.

"I'm doing the talking from now on," she told him firmly. "That was terrible. I don't know what is up with you lately, but I will gag you if I have to next time. No one is going to talk to us if you keep attacking them like that." Kurt swallowed, avoiding her eyes and nodding.

She sighed. Arms came around him to pull him into a tight hug. "We'll find him," Mercedes' muttered in his ear. "Just take a breath and stop pushing people away. They'll help us if we let them. I promise we'll find him, Kurt." It was so much like the promises Kurt himself had given Blaine that he couldn't quite take it to heart. He squeezed her to him in thanks, anyway.

"I know," he whispered. He wasn't sure how convincing he was.

Mercedes gave him one last returning squeeze before letting him go. "Okay! Take two," she announced, straightening up. "We're using the door this time."

If Kurt's laugh sounded more like a sob, neither of them acknowledged it.


Two hours later, they were back. This time with cookies.

Rachel peeked out of the window next to the doorway the fourth time they rang the bell. Kurt caught her eye and mutely held up the plate of cookies, pleading as much as he could with his eyes to give him a second chance. She glanced between him and the plate for several seconds, and then disappeared from view.

They had been standing for so long Kurt was ready to give up when the front door suddenly clicked. Rachel opened the door a sliver, just wide enough to fit her body in the space its opening created. She said nothing as she stood there; simply waited. Mercedes was supposed to do the talking, but Kurt wanted to try to clear to air a little first.

"I know they aren't the famous Rachel Berry 'I'm Sorry' cookies," he began tentatively. "But I did my best with what I had to work with." Dark eyes still a little puffy from crying studied the baked goods. "…They're vegan?" he offered, raising his shoulders in a slight shrug.

Rachel sucked in her bottom lip. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"Can we come in?" Mercedes' matched her volume. "I promise Kurt won't yell at you again. We agreed that I'm going to do the talking this time."

Rachel shook her head. "I don't really think that's a good idea," she said. "I'm just going to end up crying."

"Why?" Kurt blurted. Mercedes slapped him in the arm, keeping her attention on Rachel.

"Why do you think you're going to cry?" She rephrased for him. Kurt bit his tongue. Patience: something he had absolutely none of today.

Rachel took a shaking breath, shaking her head with forced nonchalance.

"Rachel, we think we can help you. I know we're not best friends, but we've grown a little bit closer this year, don't you think? You can tell us. We won't make fun of you."

Rachel glanced around them, as if expecting to see the rest of the New Directions crouching behind their backs. When she was satisfied there were no contortionists hidden behind them, she spoke up. "I have nightmares," she finally said. All of Kurt's focus narrowed in on her. "They're just dreams, but they affect me more than they would other people. I'm very sensitive."

"Are we in them?" Mercedes asked her carefully.

Rachel gave a lingering look towards Kurt before glancing back at Mercedes. Realization dawned over him.

Kurt had always had a problem with keeping his mouth shut. The entire football team hadn't been able to get him to shut up; he didn't know why he thought he'd be able to succeed where twenty bull-headed bullies had failed. So he wasn't surprised when the words slipped out: "You know what happened to us."

Rachel's eyes widened and she moved backwards to close the door.

"Wait! We remember him, too!" His hand shot out to stop the door from closing. His lips wouldn't stop forming words, his panic and excitement driving them to tumble out of his mouth. A lead, finally, a lead! "We all remember him in some way—he's been taken from us, we just don't know how. Don't, please, don't close the door on this, we—I have dreams, too!"

She froze at the admission, staring at him with watery eyes. "You dream about him, too?" she asked. Kurt nodded quickly.

She gave a shaking gasp. "I'm going to hug you," she warned, and suddenly she was doing exactly that, tackling into him with more force than Kurt had expected from such a tiny body. Kurt looked wildly at Mercedes for help, but Mercedes only shrugged back at him. "So much for me doing all the talking," she muttered. Kurt cautiously patted Rachel on the back.

"I thought I was the only one!" she cried into his shirt. "Every time I looked at one of you guys, or I entered the choir room, I saw it, and it was horrible. I can't go to school anymore. He wanted me to go to school and keep an eye on you, but I just can't!"

Kurt's ears perked up at her last admission. "'He wanted you to?'" he repeated.

"He visits you?" Mercedes asked.

Rachel pulled back, finally, wiping her eyes and nodding. "He tried, once. I dreamt about him a few days into winter break, and he tried to tell me something in my dream." Kurt's heart was racing. Did Rachel remember more of what Blaine told her than he did? Why was Blaine visiting Rachel of all people? Did she know where he was? "I don't think he realized what he was doing until I asked him who he was and what he was doing in my dream. He asked me if I was okay, and he knew my name. Then he said something else, but I couldn't remember it when I woke up."

"You've only dreamt about him once?"

It seemed that once she had resolved to talk about it, Rachel was entirely devoted to telling them everything (and doing it properly). She took the plate of cookies out of Kurt's hand and set them down on the coffee table, and then disappeared into the kitchen.

"Then I started having the nightmares. I can hear him sometimes, when I'm awake," she called to them from the other room. "He's not there all the time, but he lets me know when he is. He keeps telling me to go back to school, but he doesn't know what I see there."

She came out with a pitcher of lemonade in one hand and three glasses balanced in the other. Kurt and Mercedes rushed forward to help her.

"Sorry, I haven't had many guests," she fussed as they set the glasses around the table, pouring the lemonade. "I'd offer you milk with these, but I don't think either of you are big on Almond Milk."

Mercedes wrinkled her nose. "Not really."

"I thought so," Rachel nodded.

"Can I ask…" Kurt began as they all sat down. "What do you see when you go to school, or when you look at us?"

Rachel busied herself with straightening the cookie plate. "I don't really want to talk about it."

Kurt bit down hard on his lip before he said anything thoughtless and glanced toward Mercedes. She nodded imperceptibly. "You know we won't make fun of you," she prompted Rachel. "We're just trying to figure this all out."

Rachel nodded, but didn't look up. "I know," she said. "I know you think you want to hear it. But I don't think you do. I think you'll be upset once you do."

"Why?" Mercedes asked.

"Quinn was," Rachel answered. "I had to stop telling her."

The brief brush of fingers against his own was all the warning Kurt had before a voice suddenly spoke within his mind—clearer than it had ever been before. Take her to the choir room. Trust me.

…Blaine. Warmth blossomed from his chest, rosy and wonderful. Oh, thank god. He was still okay. He was here, actually here with Kurt, and he wasn't dying. They still had time.

Rachel was studying him with a small smile on her face. "He just spoke to you, didn't he?" she asked. A mix of relief and tenderness painted her features. "You hear him, too."

Mercedes looked at Kurt in surprise, and Kurt felt like someone had suddenly lifted a pair of colored glasses from his eyes. Something intensely kind and longing hovered around Rachel's form. His heart swelled at the image. Was this what Blaine had seen that first day he'd met her? It hit him suddenly that she knew. Maybe not to the extent that he did, but she knew and remembered Blaine as more than just a forgotten idea.

Was it her presence that made Blaine's voice so clear to him? What role did she have to play in all this?

She's the amplifier, Blaine whispered.

The answer shocked over his skin and then settled like a calm wind. The amplifier. She did have a role. Blaine had a plan. He was helping them find him even as he was stuck deteriorating who-knew-where. This wasn't entirely hopeless.

Mercedes was right: he wasn't alone.

"He says to take you to the choir room," he told her.

Rachel frowned. "No, I'm not doing that," she said firmly. "Sorry, but that's not going to happen."

"Rachel," Kurt said, leaning forward earnestly. "He's right. Maybe it'll hurt to tell us, but we've all been hurt by this. It hurts everyone more not to know what's going on. As Mercedes has had to remind me"—he glanced toward her ruefully—"sometimes it's easier to get things done when you have some help carrying the load."

Rachel looked unconvinced.

"We want to get him back," he said firmly. "He's in trouble. He was taken away, and the only way we'll be able to fix what went wrong is if we know what happened. I think that's what you've been dreaming about, haven't you?"

"…Yes," Rachel admitted hesitantly. "But Quinn—"

"Quinn's not okay, Rachel," Mercedes came in. "No one's okay. They just don't understand why. Everyone remembers something, we just don't know how it fits together. If you can help us make everything fit, maybe we can start to figure out how to be okay again."

Rachel swallowed, toying with her glass. "Finn remembers, too?" she asked quietly.

Kurt searched her eyes. "…He remembers something," he said slowly.

Rachel chewed her lip, glancing between them. Glancing down, her eyes unfocused slightly. She seemed to be having a conversation with herself. (No, Kurt realized, with Blaine.)

"If you can… then, yes. I do," she nodded decisively. Kurt wondered if she knew that neither he nor Mercedes were aware of what Blaine had just said to her. Getting up, she brushed her (hideous, but Kurt had been trying to avoid thinking of her clothing all day and he wasn't about to ruin things now by saying something stupid) skirt off and straightened her shoulders.

"You're right: I need to face this. Everyone needs to know. And he needs to come home." Kurt didn't know who she was performing for, but he didn't call her on it—if this was the way to get her to help, he wasn't going to stop her. "I'm clearly the only woman for the job, the one missing piece in all of this. I'll do it. I'll—" she faltered slightly, then sniffed, puffing up proudly. "I'll do it."

Kurt was so relieved he didn't even warn her before he tackled her into a hug. Mercedes grabbed her after, thanking her profusely, and Kurt was reminded that he wasn't the only one invested in this.

Keep a hold of me, Blaine murmured in his ear. This is going to be difficult.

Kurt breathed in as Blaine's presence seemed to surround him.

We're about to do some magic.