Limits

Summary: Taken from a prompt on the Glee Angst Meme. Burt Hummel's dead, Kurt Hummel's doing his best to stay under the radar of Child Services, and the bullying is quickly bringing him to the end of his steadily shortening rope. The tiny, unused razor in the jewelry box seems to agree with that assessment. So it is really any wonder that when he catches sight of a blue police box left open just a crack that he would run inside?

Disclaimer: Nope. No, no, no.

AN: Oh my gosh, you guys. I'm sorry for the delay on this chapter, I hit a plot snag and got kind of blocked for a while, but I think I've gotten most of the kinks out by now. All of you who have stuck with me so far, THANK YOU. Your reviews and your feedback mean the world to me and really help me get chapters edited and out faster. LOVE FOREVER.

Chapter Sixteen: Piano

Kurt felt, idly, that this must be what it felt like to do a walk of shame.

The streets were dark and deserted save for the occasional (very occasional) car and the night was quiet. No, he wasn't sneaking out of someone's apartment in yesterday's clothing but it felt about the same and it was better that he was walking because if he'd been driving he'd be tempted to take out people's mailboxes. Kurt was a lot of things, but a common vandal? Not a chance.

Kurt Hummel had never been nor would ever be a common anything.

The anger hadn't evaporated but had instead sidled over to make room for what he knew intimately as guilt. He'd said nothing that he hadn't meant, but what if he really left tomorrow without seeing anyone? What if he never came back again? What if the last contact they ever had was angry?

Instinctively, his brain jumped to I thought you were better than this and he shook it off.

This was different.

No one was dying this time, and he hadn't been the only one on the defensive.

Didn't make it suck any less, though.

Suddenly, there were headlights behind him and Kurt slowed, hoping that it would make the car go by faster. On the contrary, the vehicle slowed down right with him until the front windows were in line with his body. The passenger side window rolled down and Kurt glanced over to see that Blaine was in the driver's seat.

"Hey," he said, half-conversationally, still driving excruciatingly slowly. Kurt frowned.

"Hey yourself. What are you—"

"It's late and no one should be walking home alone in the dark. Hop in, I'll give you a ride."

For a brief moment, Kurt hesitated. Blaine just continued to keep up with him and when Kurt raised a questioning brow, waggled both of his own right back at him.

"Come on," the shorter boy wheedled, gesturing with his chin. Oh, hell. And then Kurt was shrugging, ducking over to wrench the car door open, slipping inside and fastening his seat belt. "You'll need to give me directions."

"Yes…" Kurt murmured lowly, staring out the window, "Keep going straight until I tell you."

"That could have gone better," Blaine said quietly, startling Kurt enough to straighten up and look him in the eyes, "Hell of a party." Kurt groaned.

"Ugh, god. Oh, god. Hell is right. Not that I don't appreciate the gesture, but what made you decide to leave? It's not like you actually know me. "

Keeping his eyes on the road, Blaine's shoulder met his ear.

"Not missing much, it pretty much turned into an arguing mess of he-said-she-said blame-gaming. Figured that I'd be more useful giving you a ride home than sitting there like a lookie-loo who didn't know what was going on."

Kurt laughed but it came out choked and much more like a whimper than anything else. Home.

"Kurt?"

The taller boy jerked, scrubbing at his dry cheeks. Blaine was casting side-eye at him, raising a brow in his direction.

"Right, sorry, sorry. You're going to want to hang a right up here at this next signal…"

"Kind of not what I meant, but thanks. I'm not asking you to tell me details because we wouldn't want the CIA to string you up," which Blaine clearly did not believe in the slightest, "But if you want to talk about anything, I can't really judge you. It's not like I even know what's going on aside from the fact that they want you to stay and you want to go."

For a while, Kurt was silent. He'd never been the type to bare his soul easily and certainly not to people he'd just met, but what did he have to lose? Worst case scenario, he'd essentially just lost all of his friends from this timeline, what more was there? It wasn't like he couldn't stand to spill his guts.

"I didn't want this," he said, finally. "I didn't want to say it, but coming back here… it was kind of an accident to start with. Or as much of an accident as it can get. I can't be here, not now. This town was never mine, but it was still home. Now it's just… it's not. At all. The thought of trying to fit myself back into that role I played, like I haven't been changed, it makes me sick to my stomach."

"A role?"

Kurt smiled, wry and uncomfortable.

"Yeah. I guess it was always a little bit of a role. It was never a lie but I… I guess I've always held back some of who I am. Or maybe I just didn't really know. And people here just see me as this fruity gay kid who's more of a girl than a guy a lot of the time, and sometimes it's easier to play it up more than I really would otherwise. It's just…being with the Doctor, it's like seeing the sky for the first time. You look up and it's so blue and so far away and so untouchable, and then he hands you a pair of wings and tells you to go for it because who has the right to tell you that you can't?" He trailed off.

Blaine was wearing a funny little smile and it took Kurt a few seconds to recognize it as wistful. As if he were imagining the feeling that Kurt was describing, the feeling like sunshine that lingered on the mind like sugar on the tongue.

"If…if it helps at all," Blaine commented, scrubbing a hand over his dark hair, "You seem like the kind of guy who's got his head on right. If you think what you're doing is good for you, then go for it. Your life's yours."

The laugh that tore its way from Kurt's throat was real this time around and for a few moments all he could do was giggle helplessly into his hands.

"I just wish I could make them understand. I've missed them but I can't just do what they want to make them happy when…" When it would break me.

"Makes sense to me."

"Turn left up here."

The rest of the trip was quiet, the only noises being the low rumble of Blaine's car. Eventually, they reached Kurt's block, then his street, then they'd pulled up to the front of his home.

"Can I…uh, walk you up?" Blaine asked with a cock of his head, sounding at once determined and not a little bit shy. Kurt flashed him a smile.

"Aren't you just the gentleman?" he replied, unfastening his seat belt and opening the car door.

"I do try; three older sisters and childhood threats of finishing school will do that to you. And your answer?"

"If you feel you must; never let it be said that Kurt Hummel is anything less than appreciative of good manners."

Blaine was true to his word and was a gentleman, right up to the point that Kurt shot him a wary smile and bypassed the front porch entirely in favor of slipping around to the backyard. The TARDIS was right where it should be, nestled up against the fence in such a way that it couldn't be seen from the street. The other boy did an admirable job of not looking too confused when Kurt began to approach it.

"Vintage?" Blaine asked when they reached the call box, reaching out a hand to brush the wooden exterior. Kurt snickered. "This isn't your tool shed, is it?"

"Oh, you have no idea." He sobered. "I guess this is the end of the line."

"Guess so."

It was kind of amazing how one single human could do such an amazing puppy impression without even trying. Without sparing a thought as to what the hell had come over him, Kurt reached out a hand and patted Blaine on the cheek.

"I'm so glad I met you," he said softly, "You made the night bearable."

"Can I…" Blaine began, catching himself briefly and looking Kurt in the eyes, "Can I come say goodbye to you tomorrow, too?" In case no one else shows up went unspoken and that was just fine with Kurt because he heard it loud and clear. Unexpectedly, his breath caught.

"Yes," he breathed, "Yes, you may. You have very good manners."

"I do try," Blaine repeated, smile widening. He froze, standing stock-still when Kurt leaned forward to press a soft, barely-there kiss to his cheek.

"You, Blaine Anderson, are a wonderful boy. Please don't ever change."

And then Kurt was backing away, the TARDIS key dangling from its chain in his hand. He unlocked the door and slipped in like a shadow, closing it firmly behind him.

The main control room was empty when Kurt entered the TARDIS, the door to the outside shutting like a finale. He considered just going to bed but decided instead to wander around and wait until morning because this too was one of those nights where sleep just wouldn't be happening. Most of the time he'd at least try but there would be no point tonight.

Kurt bypassed his bedroom, the bright cherry door standing out stark against the metal of the halls, and he passed over the library and the kitchen, heading for the movie room instead. The sofa in there was heavenly and he'd be able to just sprawl out on it and the TARDIS had supplied an impressive collection of movies.

If he could just shut his brain off, he'd be set.

When he opened the door, however, it was immediately clear that he wasn't alone.

The back half of Bringing Up Baby was playing on the screen and the Doctor and Rose were on the sofa, Rose passed out asleep and cuddling into the Doctor's side, the man with his arm slung easily around her shoulder. Kurt stopped in the doorway and the Doctor looked up at him instantly, completely awake.

"I thought you were going to be spending the night with your friends."

"Oh, uh…sorry," Kurt said, flushing a little bit even though it wasn't like he'd actually interrupted anything particularly scandalous, "Things kind of went south. I'll just go to bed—"

"Hold on a minute, no need to run off. Come over here," the Doctor beckoned him inside with a wave of the arm that wasn't absently running over the curtain of blonde that spilled over into his personal space, "What exactly do you mean by 'went south'?" Kurt obeyed and approached, settling onto a cushion and muffling a groan with his hands.

"They want me to stay."

"And you don't." That wasn't a question.

"No."

"Okay."

Kurt blinked.

"Okay? Just…okay?" he ventured, "It's okay if I…?"

"Okay means exactly what it means," the Doctor informed him, matter of fact as anything else, "You're smart, you can take care of yourself, and I like you. So okay. If I had to be completely honest, I was hoping you'd want to stick around with us."

"Is that why neither of you asked?"

"Eh, I can't speak for Rose but I thought it'd be best for you to make your own decisions. Humans tend to not like being managed, you know, they throw such a fuss."

Kurt smiled at him.

"I'm human, I think I know."

And then an arm had found its way around his shoulders and had tugged him closer. Rolling his eyes just a little bit, Kurt scooted over the rest of the way and twisted so that he was leaning up against him, the Doctor's arm around him a familiar anchor.

"Besides, what was it you said to me way back when? Hell and high water, was it?"

Kurt let his chin tuck into the Doctor's shoulder, the fabric of his suit familiar on his skin. For a while, he stayed quiet and let himself relax and give in to the comfort being offered to him. A jumble of words, a slew of questions were bouncing around in his brain and finally, he just opened his mouth and asked the first thing to come to mind.

"Do you think I'm running away?"

The Doctor blinked.

"Now what good would asking me that do? What matters is do you think that you're running away. I could talk for years about what I thought and it wouldn't matter because only you know if you are or not. So are you?"

Kurt closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, soaking in the familiar smells and feelings like a sponge. A very anxious, melancholy sponge.

"There have never been very many things tying me to this town," he began, considering stopping by making himself continue, "My father and my friends, basically. And necessity. And now my father's gone and so is the necessity. I… I love my friends here, but I don't know if that's enough. And being here, with you guys and the TARDIS and travelling around, seeing new things… I love it too. Part of me feels so selfish because I love them and don't want to hurt them, but… I don't remember a time since my mother passed away that I've been so consistently happy. Even if we get hurt and almost killed and spend more time fleeing than sight-seeing sometimes. Don't I get to be happy too?"

And that was the kicker.

In the years after Elizabeth Hummel's death, Kurt's happiness had become a gradient in shades ranging from hair's-edge-miserable to content. Happiness, real, blissful, shoot-it-out-of-the-ballpark happiness, had rarely even been on the page and now it was.

"There it is, then," the Doctor informed him, "Not so hard, was it?"

When had his eyes gotten wet?, Kurt wondered absently to himself. From the Doctor's other side, Rose shifted and sidled closer, draping a hand over his chest to experimentally bat at whatever part of Kurt she could reach.

"Hey, is Kurt back?" she murmured sleepily, half to herself, and Kurt grabbed her hand and squeezed, lacing his fingers with hers without thinking about it. "Welcome home."

Kurt's vision blurred.

"Yeah," he managed, "I'm home."

"Awww, aren't you two just adorable?" the Doctor teased, and Rose opened one brown eye to scowl up at him.

"I vote we squish him," she suggested and Kurt couldn't hold back the chuckle that the comment drew out of him.

"Oi, there will be no squishing –of anyone but especially me- in my TARDIS—"

"I agree," Kurt declared loftily, "I think he could use it. On three, one, two, three—!" Grin tugging at his lips, Kurt flung his free arm over the Doctor and proceeded to squish him, the man protesting all the while until he gave up and began to laugh, squirming away from where Rose had begun to twist her finger into his side.

"'Ey, stop that!" the Doctor protested futilely, "Stop that, Time Lords do not get squished!"

"This one does," Rose replied, sounding more awake than previously.

"Accept your fate."

"As what, a Time Lord sandwich?"

"Exactly," Kurt informed him. He was relishing the warmth and the opportunity to joke. "Now make it easy on yourself."

"Oh well, in that case," the Doctor quipped back sarcastically, pretending to struggle for a few moments before flopping over dramatically, firing off snippets from Hamlet's death speech. Kurt watched him, unmoved. For maybe two seconds and then he'd dissolved into giggles again, fueled by Rose's helpless laughter from the other side.

"Hey, think we can get a leopard? I love this movie."

"Rose, the TARDIS needs a leopard like Kurt needs another pair of shoes."

"So that's a yes on the leopard, then? I always need new shoes."

"We are not getting a leopard!"

It was good to be home.

Kurt had gotten out of the habit of checking his phone but before he went to bed that night, he went out of his way to make sure he hadn't missed any messages.

Aside from a completely random mashing of letters and a heart mark from Brittany, there was nothing, and Kurt felt his heart sink.

That night, Kurt dreamed.

It was a dream of what could be. He saw himself, five or so years in the future. He didn't think about high school, and he was successful at whatever his job was. He wasn't rich but he made enough to keep a nice apartment that fit him. He had a boyfriend, who was dark-haired, short, and suspiciously familiar, and they were happy together.

They had plans to get married and eventually adopt or have a surrogate.

He called Mercedes every week and lunched with Rachel on Mondays. They'd go shopping and he'd be appropriately fabulous and she still wouldn't be able to dress herself, and they'd laugh. She'd tease him about his relationship with Not-Blaine and he'd tease her right back about when she was going to marry Finn.

Around Christmas, he went home to Lima and his father and Carole met him at the door together and he ate cookies until he felt like he wanted to explode. The house was full of warmth and laughter and new pictures on the walls, pictures that included all four of them and everyone was so happy. He'd somehow end up cooking the entirety of Christmas dinner (as usual) and have to beat Finn into submission to keep him out of the pie.

He'd walk down the street and there would be a blue police box sitting on the corner and Kurt wouldn't pay it a single glance.

The blonde that passed him by wouldn't stand out at all.

Kurt saw the man with her and all he thought was that he had good taste in trenchcoats, nothing more. Handsome and possessing a good look but nothing special, nothing that stood out In Kurt's mind.

That man wasn't important because Kurt had to get home, to Blaine and to work and to his collection of scarves because he had a family and he was happy. Of course there was no such thing as time travel, don't be ridiculous.

Kurt didn't worry about wearing short sleeves; his arms were unblemished and he didn't have any qualms with showing them off.

Kurt turned thirty and his first child had just turned six. They went for a walk in the park (his little boy was tall for his age and bouncy, with blue eyes and chestnut hair that curled around his ears) and that was normal. They'd talk about school projects and the new words that he'd learned that week and how they ought to get a puppy.

He kissed his child on the forehead every night, even past the point that he turned sixteen and wanted nothing to do with such silliness. Not-Blaine (a lawyer or a doctor) would come in and kiss them both and they'd be mollified because he was the peacekeeper between two temperamental fireballs. Always the peacekeeper.

There were fights that left Kurt crying into his pillow that they always, somehow, made up from and came out stronger for it. There were gifts and dinners and dates and more arguments and just once, Kurt went home to stay with his father until he could cool down and make up.

Rachel and Finn got married, got divorced, and then got married again because she just had to be dramatic like that.

Burt Hummel passed away when Kurt was fifty-seven and his heart still broke like nothing else, but he had people around him who could help and make him feel like the world wasn't going to come crashing down to cave in on his head.

And then just once, when Kurt was ninety-three and on his deathbed, he looked out his window and saw a man walking by, with wildly tousled hair and a brown suit and nerdy glasses and he walked with such confidence that Kurt was envious though not jealous, because Kurt was happy with his lot and didn't need anything.

Kurt had been happy.

Kurt awoke with tears slipping down his cheeks because of all the nightmares he could have been given, he had to get the one with such a beautiful, impossible future.

AN2: Thank you all so much for reading! Please, please leave a review if you're liking this; I like to know how many people are reading and all that jazz, plus, I won't lie that having my ego stroked makes me write faster.