Hey everyone! Sorry this is short-but the next chapter is much longer! :D

Please review! It means the world! :D

Hope you enjoy-PVG24601xxx

Chapter Six- In which Kurt does something very, very silly…

Kurt hummed low as he watered the plants on the windowsill inside. He longed to go out and tend the proper garden-but he couldn't take that risk. He was still pretty shaken up from the experience in the bathroom…Anyway, the weather was foul outside today. The clouds were mixtures of dull greys, completely obscuring the usual deep blue, and it was clearing threatening to rain. Occasionally, the beginnings of a thunder clap broke across the sky. There was a storm brewing. Pavarotti tweeted uncertainly beside him. He was so worried about Kurt he couldn't stay still, hopping up and down like a rabbit.

"Why does she want me dead so bad, Pavarotti?" he asked, talking more to himself than the bird. Carefully, he sprinkled just the right amount of water on the plants. "I've never even met her!"

Pavarotti chirped comfortingly. He didn't know either.

Another roll of thunder swept through the sky. Kurt tutted. "Oh dear. I hope all the animals in the forest are okay…"

Pavarotti tweeted again, hopping onto Kurt's shoulder and nipping his cheek affectionately. Kurt gently stroked his feathers, then got back to work watering. They'd be beautiful flowers once they perked up a bit-they had definitely been neglected. But Kurt would revive them. It wouldn't take long, just a few-

"Hello there, dearie,"

Startled, Kurt looked up, eyes wide. Standing at the window was a little, bent over old woman, in a heavy black cloak. Her eyes were sunken, face weather-beaten and wrinkled, and her hands were pale and dotted. Slung over her crooked arm was a basket of pale green and bright red apples. She smiled up at him with very yellow, uneven teeth.

Instinctively, Kurt backed away from the window, dropping the watering can in surprise. He'd become, understandably, very paranoid. The slightest noise made him jump a mile nowadays, the drip of a tap, anything. But this old crone couldn't be any harm, surely…She smiled friendly enough.

"Don't look so scared! Dear me, child, I'm not going to hurt you!" She chuckled throatily. "My my-aren't you the pretty one?" Reaching up, she gently took Kurt's face in her rough, withered hands. "Hair as dark as chocolate, skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood…Such beauty, such eyes, such rosy cheeks! Rosy like apples!"

Kurt smiled modestly, eyes cast down. "Thank you, ma'am,"

The old crone looked more carefully at him. "But your mind is not at ease-tell me, my child, what's wrong?" Her old eyes showed motherly concern. Something Kurt hadn't been shown for a long, long time.

"Oh…it's a long story," He smiled weakly.

"Well, I won't force you, my child, but a problem shared is a problem halved!"

Kurt had never understood that phrase. If a problem shared was a problem halved, then surely all you had to do was go around telling your problem to lots and lots of people, and each time the problem would be reduced until it was of no real significance. But that of course was not the cast. However, he appreciated her seemingly genuine interest. On the other hand-he did not want to relive his misadventures and near-death experiences just yet. And he didn't want to waste the woman's time, especially not with the storm fast approaching. The old woman sniffed the air, obviously thinking the same thing.

"Miserable day, is it not?"

"It is," Kurt agreed. "But rain makes the flowers grow!" He tried to sound optimistic and sunny-but came out a little desperate. The old woman seemed to understand though. Kurt saw a drop of rain fall onto her forehead, running down her long nose. He wondered whether he should invite her inside, out of the storm, but he remembered his promise to Finn…

"Well, don't let your worries plague you too much, my pet-you'll end up old and haggard like me!" she cackled.

Kurt's eyes grew wide with terror, and he had to stop himself exclaiming "Oh God, no!". He vowed to moisturise doubly well from now on.

"But life always seems better with one of my delicious apples!" The old woman gestured to the basket of shining fruit.

"Thanks, but I haven't any money," he said apologetically. He'd have bought one out of pity-maybe the woman could have got herself a nicer cloak…

"Oh no, dearie, they're free for you! Go on, please a helpless old woman,"

Kurt shook his head. "No, thank you, I couldn't,"

"Come on," She smiled again, showing her teeth, like crooked tombstones, eyes lighting up like torches. "They're wishing apples, you know?"

"Wishing?" Kurt looked up, frowned curiously, heart beating faster.

"One bite, and anything your heart desires…will be yours! And what does yours desire, my dear?"

My prince…

"Oh dear, I can read your face like a book, child!" she laughed. "I know what you want-what you dream of…It can be yours…" She wafted the smell of apples in his direction. "He can be yours…"

Kurt knew he shouldn't.

Most of him screamed no. But…

Oh, why not? What harm could it do? He wasn't sure about "wishing apples", but why not make this harmless old woman happy? "Oh, go on then. Because you're so kind,"

The old crone beamed, as if nothing could make her happier. She plucked an apple from the basket, a big, bright red apple, with not a scratch or a dent on it's shiny scarlet flesh.

"Almost as red as your lips!" The old woman gave another throaty laugh. "Come on, my child-make a wish!"

Why not? Kurt held the apple tightly in his hands, close to his heart. He closed his eyes, and wished. Where ever he was…whoever he was…

"Take a bite, dearie!" The crone watched, excitement in her voice.

Slightly reluctantly, Kurt raised the apple to his lips. It smelled delicious, sweet and crisp at the same time, wonderfully smooth in his hand…

No sooner had the apple touched his soft lips-he fell to the floor, motionless.

"Mwah ha ha ha ha ha!" Throwing the cloak and basket aside-Queen Rachel was revealed, transformed back to terribly beautiful, evil self! Tossing her long hair, which seemed to crackle with electricity as the storm broke, lightening striking outside and thunder positively roaring, rain beating down harder than it ever had before, she shouted in triumph.

"I am the greatest star! And no one-no one-will ever stand in my way! NEVER!"

Her maniac screams were louder than the storm, wilder than the wind, as she disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Left lying on the floor, motionless, was Kurt. Perfectly still, perfectly sweet and innocent, perfectly beautiful-but lifeless.