Author's Note: Hey there hello! So I wasn't entirely sure what to do with this chapter… which is part of why it took such a long time to post. I knew what I wanted to happen, but not exactly how to put it together. So I tossed ideas around for a while and this is what I came up with. The first part is kind of a filler to level out the drama and settle some minor questions, and then, well… you'll see. Let me know what you think! :)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the show Glee.

~Chapter 14: Elizabeth~

"Tomorrow's Monday," Kurt sighed, staring up at the ceiling as he reclined back on his bed. The sun was setting just beyond the window, casting long shadows across the room and drenching everything in a soft, red-orange glow.

Blaine nodded from his spot opposite Kurt, curling his knees to his chest. "I know."

"I don't want to go to school."

"So, don't," Blaine answered simply. "Just say you're helping my mom and I get settled at Tina's."

Kurt sighed again. He and Blaine had been discussing their options all afternoon and had yet to make a firm decision. Blaine wanted to distance himself for the sake of Kurt's safety, but at the same time, he wanted to be nearby in case anything should happen. Meanwhile, Kurt wanted Blaine to be with his mother, yet it was getting more and more difficult to even think about being apart. School, however, seemed to be the tie-breaker; Blaine needed a place to stay while Kurt was away during the weekdays, at least for the time being.

"I don't want you to leave," Kurt admitted. He knew he was whining, but after a long day and a lot of fear and worry and questions, it was all he could come up with.

Blaine moved closer, smiling softly as he wrapped his fingers around Kurt's. "I know," he answered. "But it's not as bad as it seems. I'll be back and forth all the time. You'll see plenty of me, I promise."

Kurt paused, absentmindedly tracing his fingertips over the patterns of Blaine's palm, thinking about how suddenly everything had changed. Had it really only been a week since they had first met? Three days since Kurt had introduced the Dalton Reform badboy to his treasured theatre? Kurt felt like he was speeding down a path, gaining more momentum than he knew how to let go of, and inexplicably loving every minute of it. In all of his daydreams he had never imagined finding someone quite like Blaine. Then, suddenly, there he was.

Biting his lip, Kurt looked up to meet Blaine's eyes. "Want to make dinner with me?" he asked, his heart warming at the mere fact that he finally had someone to do these things with, someone who was just there, smiling, talking with him, sharing in those beautiful little moments of contentment.

"Absolutely," Blaine replied, squeezing Kurt's hand and walking with him to the kitchen.

x.x.x

Burt had been far from prepared to watch his only son fall in love for the first time, he realized, standing unnoticed by the kitchen doorway as Kurt swatted Blaine away from a dish cooling on the stove. The two laughed together, working through a recipe of some sort, talking about nothing and everything, and sharing affectionate little glances every now and again.

Burt knew what he was looking at; he had felt all of those same things in his lifetime. He just wished that watching his son go through it didn't make him feel so, well… old.

And it would have been nice if he'd had someone to share it with, too. He just knew she would have loved this.

Blaine was different, somehow. He was more gentle and polite than a lot of other boys his age, despite the reform school upbringing. He laughed easily and put careful thought into his words. He looked at Kurt like he meant the world to him, and the way it made the kid smile meant the world to Burt in return.

Burt wasn't entirely sure if he liked the fact that Blaine had such a complicated family, especially not if it could put Kurt in danger. Yet there was something about him that made Burt trust him, something that made him sure no one would ever be allowed to hurt his son so long as Blaine was around…

"Blaine, I swear, if you put your hands anywhere near that quiche again, I will throw you out the window."

Blaine chuckled. "But it smells good."

"It won't smell like anything from across the yard with the doors locked."

Burt bit back a laugh. His son was far too sarcastic for his own good. Exactly like his mother.

With a smile, Blaine leaned in, kissing Kurt on the cheek, like he had done it a hundred times before and would do it a billion times in the future. Burt felt his pulse quicken, wondering if this was really what he wanted under his roof. After all, boys could be chaste, but that couldn't last forever. And Kurt, well… Kurt wasn't made of stone. He threw his whole heart into things, and to chance it get broken was a pretty huge risk to take.

Boys.

What do you think, Liz? Burt thought, his heart tight in his chest.

Sometimes, it was like she was giving him the answers; she was so very alive in Kurt. And with the way his son turned to Blaine now, and the way he smiled… Burt didn't even have to wonder. He just knew.

x.x.x

Late Monday morning found Blaine resting his head on Kurt's shoulder, watching idly as a young Barbra Streisand danced across the television screen. A plateful of pancakes waited on the coffee table in front of him, an abandoned brunch that had seemed like such a wonderful idea earlier. Now he just couldn't eat.

Blaine wanted to be here in the moment with his boyfriend, really. But it was hard to focus on much of anything, and he simply couldn't stop over-thinking. His thoughts were caught somewhere between a need to protect everyone he cared about, and a desire to stay here with Kurt and just keep on pretending that it was all okay.

But they couldn't avoid this situation forever. At some point today, Blaine was going to have to pack up what little he had, move it all to the car, and drive over to Tina's. And tomorrow, Kurt would go back to school and life would go on, while Blaine waited for the police to take action. And that would be all.

Blaine didn't know why that seemed like such a hard option to deal with. Maybe he was just too afraid to be alone anymore. Kurt had saved him, taken care of him… and now it was Blaine's turn to take care of someone else. But did he have the strength for that?

His fingers clutched at the ring around his neck. Courage. "Kurt, I-"

Blaine stopped abruptly as Kurt's phone began to skitter across the coffee table in front of them, vibrating angrily. Kurt sighed and reached for it, giving Blaine an apologetic look before answering. "Hello?"

Very slowly, Kurt's facial expression changed, melting into something worried, and then shocked, and then panicked. "I'll be right there," he said in a rush, already on his feet and bolting for the front door.

Blaine ran after him, confused. His heart was already starting to beat too quickly. "Kurt!" he called, barreling into the driveway, the front door left open in his haste. Kurt had somehow already managed to get into his car and begin backing into the street, and Blaine certainly wasn't interested in being left behind to wonder what was going on. He grabbed for the passenger side door handle, leaping in before the car had so much as stopped.

Blaine slammed the door shut behind him and whirled around to face Kurt. "What the hell?"

Kurt just shook his head and focused on the road, driving way too fast for someone who had once been afraid to ride a motorcycle. Blaine's pulse drummed in his ears; there were a million things that could have gone wrong at this point, and, frankly, he felt that they had already had enough excitement for one week.

It took a while for Blaine to realize where they were headed. Finally, they approached Hill Street, and he remembered walking here in the rain, hurt, freezing, scared…

Then he saw the fire.

Kurt's car squealed to a stop by the side of the road and he leapt out as Blaine stared after him in shock. The theatre was all up in flames, and from the looks of it the firemen at the scene had only just arrived.

This was Kurt's place, the only thing he had left of his mother. And it was burning down.

"Shit." Blaine pushed his door open, moving quickly through the small crowd that had started to gather to watch the scene. He found Kurt at the front of it all, dangerously close to the red-hot, curling flames. Blaine's lungs ached against the stifle of smoke as he hurried forward.

"Kurt?"

Kurt just shook his head, staring helplessly at the sight before him, his hands held open at his sides as if he were trying to gather something that wasn't really there. His face was pure white, and the tears in his eyes shone orange as they reflected the blaze.

"You kids are gonna have to get back," said one of the firemen, approaching them with a stern look on his face. He probably didn't even know that Kurt owned the place.

Still, Blaine nodded, nervous at Kurt's proximity to the collapsing theatre and suffocating smoke. "Right," he said, his voice breaking slightly. He reached for Kurt, trying to lead him away. "Kurt? Come on. This isn't safe."

Kurt shook his head again, his eyes never straying from the building.

The fireman sighed in annoyance. "Look, kid, it's no big deal. It won't take that long to put out. The place was just taking up space, anyway. Nobody uses it anymore."

Blaine wanted to scream at him. You don't understand. This is his place! This is all he has left of her and now it's gone and you're just standing there telling him it doesn't even matter!

But Blaine had a better use for the few, short moments they had left, and he wasn't about to waste them. He loved Kurt too much to watch him suffer and do nothing at all to help.

Suddenly, Blaine was sprinting towards the theatre. Behind him, he could hear a cacophony of protest. "Damnit, kid, get back here!" "What's he doing?" "You idiot, come back!"

"Blaine!"

Kurt.

He was doing this for Kurt.

Blaine knew the window at the back of the theatre. He knew it was broken, and he remembered exactly how easy it had been to slip through the perfectly cut whole he had created. Removing all the glass while he stood outside in the pouring rain had seemed ridiculous at the time. Now, it was like fate.

The sides of the building felt hot and pliable under his hands as he clambered through the window again. The fire hadn't quite spread to this side yet, thankfully, but the smoke was more than he could handle. He gasped for breath, staring around wildly, trying to gather his thoughts as they spiraled out of control in an instant.

Kurt.

Blaine jumped as a crash echoed from the other side of the building. In response, a piece of wood fell from the ceiling, landing nearby with a loud clatter. He could hear voices, panicked and distant. If he didn't get out soon, the place was going to collapse on top of him, or someone was going to come in after him and they would both end up hurt. Or worse.

His eyes stung. Blaine blinked rapidly, staring through the smoke and feeling his way along the wall. It had to be here somewhere, he was sure of it.

There.

"Ah-" Blaine choked out as his hand landed against the overheated wood of the nearest bench. He pulled it back, watching as a bright red welt bloomed across his skin, stinging fiercely.

Gritting his teeth, Blaine turned back to the wall. He reached out, locking his fingers around the miraculously unscathed photo of Elizabeth Hummel. If Kurt couldn't have the theatre, at least he could have a piece of it.

With the frame tucked securely under his arm, Blaine started towards the window again. He coughed, trying to ignore the fact that his head was swimming and his lungs felt too tight. It didn't help that he could barely keep his eyes open, the smoke blurring his vision. He needed to get out. He had to-

A particularly nearby crash sent Blaine shaking all over. The window felt miles away, the effort of pulling himself out just too much. He was going to die in here.

Kurt.

Blaine coughed again, throwing himself against the window, gasping for the little bit of oxygen filtering into the building. Come on, he thought. Just do it already. Do it for Kurt.

A push, a tug, and a stumbling fall later, Blaine found himself on the ground outside the back of the theatre, coughing violently and clutching the photograph to his chest. You stupid jackass, he thought to himself, fighting to keep himself conscious as he stared at the burns on his arms and hands. Kurt wouldn't be happy about that, he was certain.

Before Blaine had even made his way to the front of the theatre, however, he was surrounded by firemen, reporters, and paramedics. All of them were speaking at once, trying to ask him questions or get him to look at them. But he didn't want to talk to them. He wanted Kurt.

"Blaine!"

The familiar face in front of him didn't look quite right. All Blaine could see were Kurt's eyes, shining with tears and terror and shock. Shakily, he offered the photo. Kurt took it and stared down at it for a moment. "Blaine, why would you do that?" he asked softly, tears streaming.

Because I love you.

Blaine coughed frantically, his legs going weak beneath him. "I…" he started. Someone reached for him, steadying him as he collapsed. Everything went black. "I think you know."