A/N: I'm completely overwhelmed by the response to this. Thank you so much! I have a great idea for a long Klaine oneshot, but boro-girl told me that I had to finish this series first, or else. :) More to come, stay tuned! Thanks for reading!
After Scott silently confiscates our cell phones, Kurt and I move to the back corner of the van. I can barely see his face in the dim depths of the Lincoln Tunnel. We're still holding onto each other tightly, but his breathing has finally evened out and he's not trembling anymore. He still hasn't said a word to me, though. Neither has Scott, nor his anonymous driving companion. We're all sitting terribly quietly as the van speeds toward the New Jersey Turnpike, leaving the skyline of New York City and the ashes of our plan behind us.
The silence is worrying me. Kurt is a lot of things, but quiet isn't one of them. I stroke his shoulder, and he lets out a troubled sigh.
"Did Scott tell you what happened?" he whispers.
"What do you mean?"
"How did Castellano's men find us?" His eyes are pained, and it's only then that I catch on.
"No, he didn't say."
It's been a given since day one that, barring some huge slip-up on my part, if my parents were safe then I was safe too. I look nothing like I did when I was twelve, and that alone should protect me from bounty hunters armed with age-progression renderings. The only way that they could conceivably find me would be if they found my parents first. During our honeymoon visit, Kurt and I hadn't ever come right out and told Mom and Dad where we lived, but they'd spent years hearing me talk about our plan to live in New York together. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together.
My palms are sweating, and my mouth is dry. I think of my mom and dad in their little house, reading mystery novels and watching Antiques Roadshow, and I wonder if that's what they were doing when Castellano's men walked in the door. How long did they question Mom and Dad before they gave up my location? What did my parents have to endure before talking was the only way to make it stop?
Kurt shifts, pulling me down so that I'm cradled against him. He holds me gently, smoothing back my hair.
I've always felt guilty for leaving my parents behind. When we were all together, I could protect them just through my appearance. I didn't look like Perfecto, so by association they seemed less likely to be Perfecto's parents. Once I was gone, once I'd reunited with Kurt, I didn't keep in touch with them like I should have. We wrote to each other sporadically through Scott, but for the most part, we were living our separate lives.
An image flashes in front of my eyes, of my mother being tortured, and I sit up quickly. Kurt watches me, his eyes searching mine. "Blaine?"
I huff out a humorless laugh. "First Scott, now you. Why am I suddenly Blaine again?"
"You never stopped being Blaine to me," he admits. "I know I've been married to Andrew for five years, but when I think about you, you're always Blaine."
"Well, we're going to have to pick new names soon enough. Maybe I can be Blaine again for you."
Scott keeps checking the rear-view mirrors tensely. When I turn around to look behind us, I see that there's a silver sedan right on our tail. Once the van moves to the center lane, though, the sedan accelerates past us. Scott relaxes a bit after that.
We're almost to Delaware when Kurt leans over and says to me, "We need to call my dad."
My heart sinks at the thought of Burt Hummel – the man who, despite knowing the extent of the danger that surrounded me, welcomed me into his family with open arms. He may have dreamed of one day having a daughter-in-law when Kurt was a child, but to know Burt now, you'd think that I was exactly what he'd always wanted for his only son.
"It's not allowed," I tell Kurt. He knows this. We both know he knows this. "We're not allowed to contact anyone."
"I know," he says. "But I don't care. We need to call my dad."
I nod and think for a while. Scott and the Marshal behind the wheel are murmuring to each other and looking at the exit signs we pass, and I realize that the van must be running low on gasoline. Sure enough, when a rest stop with an Exxon station comes into view, the Marshal signals to the right and pulls off the highway.
Letting go of Kurt, I crawl toward the front of the van. "Hey Scott," I say, leaning on the back of his seat.
"Hey." He half-turns to talk to me, and the tension in his face has faded. I guess that means we're out of immediate danger. "We're just pulling over for gas."
"Yeah, I figured. Listen, Kurt and I need to call his father."
Scott sighs. "You know that's never going to happen."
"Right, but the thing is... it's going to happen." His eyes widen at my nerve, but I continue undeterred. "See, Burt won't know what's happened to us. We might have been compromised and taken into protective custody. Or, we might have been killed by Castellano's goons and dumped in the Hudson River. Or, hell, we might have been mugged on the street in Chelsea. Burt will have no idea which it is; all he'll know is that he can't reach us on the phone. And he has a heart condition. That sort of stress–"
"I'm not saying I'm not sympathetic," Scott interrupts. "I met Kurt's dad at your wedding reception, remember? He seemed like a nice enough guy. But once you're pulled, you can't contact anyone from your old life. You know that, Perfecto."
"Yeah, but I also know Kurt," I tell him. "I know he won't be able to leave without telling his dad. And whether it's today, or tomorrow, or in another three months, he'll find a phone and he'll call Burt. So would you rather he do it now? Or later, when we're in an area code that traces back to our new location?"
Scott actually seems to be considering it, as the other Marshal pulls the van up alongside a full-service gas pump and hands the Exxon attendant a wad of cash. So I break out the biggest bargaining chip.
"You owe me," I say.
Scott scoffs. "How do I owe you anything?"
"You violated my rights back in New York. If I say I don't want to go somewhere with you, you can't force me." The other Marshal is watching me, I notice, and nodding a little in agreement. "I almost got separated from my husband because you can't put your past behind you and realize that I'm not another Billy–"
"Enough," Scott says, and I know I went too far.
"We'll find a way," I push. "Or, you can get a disposable cell phone at this rest stop, and we'll call Burt from here. It's your call."
Scott glances over at the driver, who gives him a faint shrug. "Not a word of this to anyone, Morris," Scott says to him through gritted teeth, then gets out of the van and hurries away, heading for the Tiger Mart.
The other Marshal – Morris, apparently – keeps looking around us. I can't tell whether it's just a force of habit, or whether he actually thinks the bounty hunters could find us here. "Not bad, kid," he says under his breath.
"What?"
"I've never seen Scott Ward back down on anything. I can't believe you just talked him into breaking the rules."
"Seriously," comes a voice beside me, and I'm startled to find that Kurt is at my side. "That was impressive."
I sigh. "Yeah, well. I have some leverage." He raises an eyebrow, but I don't elaborate. Morris probably knows all about Billy Rice, and I don't want him chiming in if I tell Kurt the story. Because there are some details I don't ever want Kurt to know.
We sit and wait for Scott to return, and I'm struck yet again by how well Kurt is dealing with all of this. We've just left our families, our friends, our jobs, our home, our entire lives behind us. All we have now is each other, and a couple of hastily packed suitcases. I would have expected tears, but his eyes are dry and alert as we watch Scott return with a plastic bag.
Scott climbs into the van and pulls out a six-pack of soda, a handful of Slim Jims, and a prepaid disposable cell phone. Kurt snatches the phone from him quickly, and we scurry back into the corner of the van to give ourselves the illusion of privacy. "There's a five-minute limit on it," Scott calls back to us, opening a Slim Jim. The gas station attendant finishes filling the tank, and Morris steers the van over to idle on the far side of the rest stop.
"We have to be careful what we say," I remind Kurt needlessly. "We don't want him to know anything that could endanger him or your family."
"Our family," he corrects me.
My throat grows tight as I think about my mom and dad again. The fact that Scott hasn't mentioned them at all speaks volumes. Deep down, I realize that Burt Hummel is now the closest thing I have left to a parent. "Right."
Kurt tears open the packaging and turns on the phone, pausing to take a deep breath before dialing his home number. It's late in the morning on a Saturday, which means that Burt and Carole will be relaxing over bagels and slices of cantaloupe, sharing the newspaper over the kitchen table. Kurt used to tease them about how predictable they were, but I always kind of liked it.
Maybe I was just envious. Nothing in my life was ever predictable.
Kurt presses a button and the speakerphone switches on. There are three rings before the call is answered.
"Hello?"
"Carole," Kurt says. "Hey, it's me."
"Kurt!" she says, sounding delighted. "I almost didn't pick up because we didn't recognize the number on the caller ID. You calling to talk to your dad?"
"Yes, please." He holds out his free hand and I take it, squeezing it as we wait.
"Sure, honey. Just a second, he's right here."
There's a brief fumbling noise, and then – "Hello?"
"Hey Dad."
"Hey yourself, city slicker! How's it going?"
"Well, we've had a bit of an exciting morning."
"Oh really? Which designer had a sample sale?"
I can't decide whether to laugh or cry at how well Burt knows his son, and how – despite their being polar opposites – he accepts him so thoroughly.
"No sample sales today, Dad. Actually, I'm calling to let you know that the tide has changed."
I look up at him quizzically, but he's just staring at the phone. There's a long, long pause before Burt answers tensely.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
"And Andrew?"
"We're both fine."
"You're safe?"
"Yes, we're setting out to sea."
I don't know why it surprises me that Kurt would have worked out a code with his father. I guess I'm just surprised that he never mentioned it to me before.
"Andrew's really there with you?" Burt says, and I speak up.
"I'm here, Burt," I call.
"Good." He breathes out slowly. "You're together, good. And you'll take care of my boy?"
"I promise I will. I'll protect him with my life."
"You two know how much I love you, right? And that I'm so proud of both of you?"
"We love you too," we say in unison, and then there's a long silence.
"I'll miss you," Burt says sadly, and Kurt raises his fist to press against his mouth hard.
"We'll miss you too," he says. "I love you, Dad. Thanks for... everything."
"It's..." Burt can't seem to finish the sentence, and Kurt shakes his head, his eyes bright.
"Bye, Dad," he whispers.
"Bye, sons."
We end the call, and Kurt finally crumples. He falls into my lap, his body shaking with sobs, as Morris pulls back onto the highway.