A/N: We made it peeps. The conclusion of this rollercoaster of a fic. I truly hope that despite the tragedy that was compiled throughout the story, you may have gotten something more from reading it besides just being a bit miffed about the character loss. For me, I guess I was hoping that for anyone who has ever had to deal with the pain of losing someone (ahem, in this story for example, our Puck) getting to know them, learning to love them and then all of the sudden they're gone... And then having to learn to move on, live, find yourself again, and hopefully experience some sort of love that's even remotely similar... having Kurt go through it for us, would maybe show that it's possible to have life after that kind of loss. That sometimes that sort of loss can break you, but also breathe something else into you that with time, can be better, make you more capable and compassionate. I know for me, the reality of losing someone made me need to get this out, and tell it the way I chose to tell it. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your words as always. Oh and by the way... I gots one more chapter. I call it Epilogue: Part 2, then we will officially part ways my dears, at least as far as this story's concerned.

Warnings: Character death, mention of murder (hanging).

Epilogue

He should've flown. He knew that driving was gonna be a bitch. Especially with his air conditioner acting up constantly, and he swears that his gears are sticking; how is that even plausible with a damn automatic shift?

He exhales, trying to calm his nerves. His mind drifting back to the phone call that brought him on this journey in the first place...

"Kurt Hummel of Hummel's Design Incorporated. How may I help you?"

"Um, Hi, Mr. Hummel?"

"Speaking."

"Oh, hello. My name is Reginald Johnson. Er, Reggie."

"Hello Reggie. Are you calling because you're interested in placing an order?"

"No. Actually I was calling on behalf of my Father."

"Sorry? Your father?"

"Yes. My Dad. His name was Jerald Johnson. But most everyone knew him by-"

"Jerry?"

"Yeah. He used to work up at the Vista Point Institution in Ohio for a while. More then seventeen years actually. But then we moved out to California. Stayed with some family for a bit till he got his eletronics shop up and running."

"Wow. That's really great. How's he doing? Would I be able to talk to him?"

...

"Um, Mr. Hummel, my Dad - he just passed away. Happened a few days ago."

...

"Mr. Hummel?"

"Y-yes. I'm sorry. I just - I can't believe it."

"I'm sorry to call you out of the blue like this. We all knew it was comin' at some point. Known for a while truthfully. He was diagnosed with prostate cancer last year. Doc said he'd only have about three months at most. But he beat that. Stubborn bastard made it just shy of a year."

"I-I'm so very sorry to hear that he... He was a good man."

"Thank you. He was."

"Mr. Johnson? I don't mean to be rude or sound ungrateful in anyway, but I'm a bit surprised to be receiving your call. I just - I haven't spoken to Jerry in over, God, more then eleven years now. I mean we've written a few post cards here and there but other then that we haven't stayed in close contact. I didn't think that I would be someone who would be notified I suppose."

"Please feel free to call me Reggie. And um, my Dad was really adamant about me contacting you upon his death. Said it'd be important for you two to get your final goodbyes."

"Oh. Okay, then."

"Mr. Hummel -"

"Kurt."

"Right. Of course. Kurt, my Dad he was... He was very fond of you. Anytime he'd talk about his days at Vista Point he'd bring you up. Well, you and some fellow named Puckerman, I believe."

...

"Kurt? Mr. Hummel?"

"That was a long time ago."

"It was. I was about ten at the time myself. But I remember the stories. I guess it's pretty strange to say, but sometimes, you felt like the family I'd never met."

...

"Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think you could join us for the funeral? It's set for this Saturday. I can get you the address to the Church we're having it at. The reception'll be held at my parents - I mean my Mom's place right afterward."

"Yes. Thank you. I'll be there."

"Great. That's great. Thank you. And I'm looking forward to having you there."

"Thank you."

So here he was. Making the cross country road trip to California to see his... Well, to say goodbye to a friend. Yeah... Jerry Johnson had been his friend and confidant during one of the worst times (and that's saying something) in his life.

He still couldn't believe that he was gone. That he'd never get the chance to tell him how much his presence had meant to him during that time. Kurt had always fantasized about reuniting with him, telling the man about how he had in fact stayed strong: that his journey of re-birth had began with Jerry's departure from that damn asylum. He wanted to tell him how he had fought and struggled to be officially emancipated from his Mother, which he had succeeded at before his seventeenth birthday. That he had went to school and made a life for himself... That he owned his own little boutique that was growing by the day - what - with his web page and his online designs and shipping, he was slowly but surely making a bit of a name for himself... That he had dated and loved and hurt and grew and matured... That he'd become a man to hopefully be proud of.

He had wanted to tell him all of that one day.

He hadn't realized how significant the thought of that had been for him; the desire to one day share his successes with Jerry. Now all he could do was wish...

The church was quaint but completely packed to the rafters with people. It wasn't surprising to Kurt. Jerry had been an enigmatic, charming, and loving man. Apparently he had touched many lives.

As the service was ending, Kurt caught sight of a familiar figure standing over the headstone, stooping to place a single rose at the foot of the stone with the rest of the flower arrangements.

"D-doctor Schuester?"

The man turned around to face him, his gray eyes slightly red from crying. His hair line was thinning a a bit, and the sides of his hair were frosted. He had more worry lines on his forehead then Kurt could remember, but he still looked quite handsome for his age.

"Kurt Hummel?"

Kurt nods and steps forward. He hesitates, unsure if it's inappropriate to greet his old Psychologist and mentor with a hug. He's pretty sure that there's some sort of protocol about fraternizing with past patients. Dr. Schuester immediately notices his hesitation, and spares him the decision as he envelopes him in a firm hug.

"It's been a long time Kurt. I won't tell if you don't."

Kurt chuckles, his voice sounding gravelly with the crying he'd been doing before. They separate, drinking each other in.

"I um - Wow, you look good. For an old man of course."

"And you look quite the picture of health."

"Is that a joke Dr. Schue?"

"A little one I suppose. But you do look... You look grown up... Happy."

Kurt gets the impression that there's a question hanging off of the last word.

"I have been. Lately anyway."

"That's good Kurt. And you can call me Will. You aren't my patient anymore."

"No, I'm not. I'm just another average guy not locked in a mental institution."

Dr. Schuester smiles sadly, then asks, "So I take it you stayed in touch with Jerry then?"

"Not really. A few letters, some post cards. But I haven't seen him since he left Vista Point. Are you still there?"

"No. Actually I started a private practice a few years back. I think it seems to be taking less years off my life so I'm happy about that. Vista Point was a great place and I gained a lot from there. But I like the individual work, and the lack of bueracracy and politics. There's just something to be said about owning your own place, you know?"

"I do actually."

"Really? Do tell."

"Well, I went to school for fashion and design and opened up my own boutique. It isn't much but it's mine. I've just launched my web page which is really starting to take off and I'm working on creating a jewelry line in the spring."

"Wow. That's really amazing Kurt. Truly. I'm proud to hear that."

"Thanks Schue."

Dr. Schuester laughs. "I'll take it. Least you dropped the damn doctor part."

They both spout collective laughter at this admission, genuinely enjoying each others company despite the sorrow billowing underneath the unsaid words between them.

"Thanks again for making it Kurt. My Dad would've been happy knowin' you came."

Kurt smiles at Reggie, who's nearly the spitting image of his Father, with the exception of his thick hair and short stature.

"It's my pleasure. I'm glad I could be here."

"Please, feel free to get something to eat man. We got all kinds of food in the dining area."

"Sure. Thanks. Er - Reggie?"

"Yeah?"

"Where's your restroom?"

"There's one down the hall but I think it may be occupied at the moment. If you want there's one upstairs. First door on the left."

"Thank you."

Reggie smiles grimly and returns to greet the other family members who were just arriving back from the funeral.

Kurt silently slips upstairs and makes his way toward his destination. He notes the family photos lining the wall as he climbs. It seemed that Reggie was an only child based on a few family photos displayed. Kurt felt a pang of jealousy at the thought of the likely happy and supportive upbringing Reggie had endured with a man like Jerry as his Dad.

He found the bathroom and was just about to enter when another door across the hall to the right caused him to pause. His gaze darted back down the hall. Eventually his natural inquisitiveness got the best of him and he carefully pushed the door open, leaving it slightly ajar behind him as he observed the space.

It looked to be an office. There were papers stacked on an old, yet sturdy looking computer desk: old magazines, tax documents, other miscellaneous paperwork having to do with Jerry's business it appeared. Against the wall was a narrow but full book case. Titles running from African American literature to Greek mythology crushed together on each shelf. There was no computer present, but instead an old type writer with blank paper still hanging out of it. Kurt absentmindedly brushes his fingers across the blank page as he took in the space that was so obviously Jerry's. A saxophone stood in the corner, dusty but proud looking. On the walls were various photos. A few were of a young Jerry, playing his saxophone on a stage with a band. Others were of Reggie as a kid, he and his wife, probably grandchildren and other family members.

But then he saw it...

His blue eyes widen in shock, his heart hammering forcefully at the sight.

A face that was forever burned in his memory, hell in his very soul, laughing with abandon. His dark mohawk tosseled and thick, a little stubble scratching the surface of his chin as his brown eyes swirl with a brightness long since lost.

His hand automatically flies to the locket around his neck. The one he had never taken off for over a decade.

He reaches out and pulls the framed photo down. It was so familiar to him as he had spent so many years having his own version around his neck. But at the same time, seeing it like this, a large copy, bordered by a frame... It was almost alien to him, like he was truly seeing it for the first time.

His eyes pool with tears as he stares down at the boy who had changed his life, as well as the young man that he once was: the broken entity who was just learning to put the pieces back together.

"See you found my Uncle's office."

Kurt starts at the voice, nearly dropping the picture in surprise.

"I-I'm so sorry. I shouldn't be in here. I'll go."

The man raises his hand for Kurt to halt. He then walks over and gently plucks the photo from Kurt's grip, looking at it with a sad smile.

"Out of all the pictures my Uncle kept in here, this one - this one fascinated me the most."

Kurt says nothing as the man bites his lip, still staring nostalgically at the picture of him and Noah.

"Not just the fact that this was the only photo with any white people in it."

Kurt chuckles wetly, his cheeks slowly burning with rising embarrassment at his tears.

"It was how the two boys looked. There was something about it that was beyond friendship. Something so intimate it seemed hard to place."

The man turned to look at Kurt then. His skin was akin to caramel, a soft brown that nearly matched his eyes. He was reminded of Noah, the way they sparkled with something just out of reach. He was tall but solid, his three piece suit tailored perfectly to his build.

"I asked my Uncle once if they were in love. And he said, 'DJ' - that's me - 'what those boys had was a love for the ages. They completed each others souls.' It was the way he said it. Like it was so natural."

Kurt was sincerely struggling to keep the tears at bay. His eyes searching the photo again, wondering if he could see what Jerry had.

"I came out a few years later, when I was a junior in high school. I guess in a weird way, it was this damn photo that gave me the courage I needed to finally do it."

Kurt eye's wavered between the photo and the man, apparently Jerry's nephew. He was handsome, an easy grace about him, how he spoke, the smooth gestures of his hands. Kurt noticed that his smile, though kind of boyish and timid at the moment, still managed to be striking. Kurt shook his head and managed to un-glue his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

"DJ? What's that stand for?"

DJ laughed aloud as if this was the silliest question he'd ever heard. Kurt was a bit baffled by the reaction.

"I'm sorry. It's just - I usually have to get my laughs out before I share this with people since I already know that they're gonna laugh their ass off. Might as well beat em' to it. DJ is short for Dartagnon, Jerald Phillips. Hence, DJ."

Kurt couldn't help but smile a little, but he spared the man by witholding the chuckle tickling his throat.

"Dartagnon, huh? As in the three musketeers?"

"My Mom was obsessed. Had this weird belief in the power of three's. Unfortunately I was the first born so she got over that shit when my sister came along. You know you wanna laugh."

True enough, Kurt is practically bubbling over with supressed laughter. "I do. But I don't want to be rude. I just met you. I think it's unfair to laugh at someone's expense without at least introducing yourself first. I'm -"

"Kurt. Hummel, right?"

Kurt put out his hand which DJ gripped firmly. "Something about that is sort of scary. Like you all know everything about me. I have a feeling not even my social security number is safe."

"I know your face... Really well. I've known it for years. I've looked at it nearly everday for a decade. But I was always a little sad thinking that I'd probably never meet the man behind those blue eyes. Now... Here you are. It's kinda surreal."

Kurt took the photo from DJ's hand and replaced it on the wall, standing back to observe it again.

"Those eyes - in that picture - that was the first time that they had something in them. Something that wasn't void, or full of pain, or just utterly lost."

"Love?"

Kurt nods. "And spirit, I suppose. Your Uncle seemed to get it way before I ever did."

DJ scoots closer, now shoulder to shoulder with Kurt as they observe the picture together, admiring it as if it was the latest piece in a local art exhibit.

"Did your Uncle explain who I was to you? How he knew me?"

DJ has a wry smile on his face as he nods.

"I was - I was a terribly depressed and devastated person back then. Before that photo - before that moment - My eyes reflected that. Then I met him" - Kurt points up at Noah's beaming face - "And it all... changed."

DJ appears to be chewing the inside of his cheek in anticipation, then he stutters out, "M-my Uncle. He told me something really sad once. When I was younger, I used to think that those boys got to grow old, be together. I used to try to imagine what their lives had become. Then one day he told me that one had died. 'Noah' he said. I remember asking why but he'd never told me the story. Just that some of the brightest lights tend to burn out the fastest. But I couldn't help but wonder, what became of the boy with the blue eyes who'd be living alone."

Kurt braced himself, scared that he would collapse under the weight of the memories. He hadn't spoken to anyone about Noah in years.

"There was a man who used to work with your Uncle. He did horrible things to the kids at the hospital. I was one of them. Noah, he, um - tried to protect me. Stand up for me and some of the others which led to him hurting the guy. Noah already had a bad reputation and was on his last strike. So when he turned eighteen, he was sent to the State Pen. He - er - he, didn't make it out."

"What happened to the guy?" DJ asked quietly.

Kurt felt a devious smile tug at the corner of his lips. "The things he'd done: molesting and assaulting patients, he ended up going to jail for it. Last I heard they didn't take too kindly to sex offenders. Not when it comes to kids anyway." Kurt chuckles softly at his own words, remembering who had originally said them so many years before.

"Supposedly they found him hanging from the second story rail looking a little less then pristine."

"Damn. Karma's a bitch they say."

"I guess she can be."

"I'm sorry to pry. But the kid in me that was always wondering I guess needs to know. What was he like?" DJ said nodding his head up at Noah.

Kurt's watery smile spreads that much further. "He was... He was an asshole actually. When we first met and a while after that," Kurt said laughing at the memories of Puck's cursory behavior toward him.

"He was abrasive, childish, angry, and he liked to provoke people any way he could; usually with his words. But there was a moment. A moment I knew that there was just - something more there. That he could be sweet, and caring, and so very selfless when he wanted to be. Little by little, those moments became more frequent, so much so, that I couldn't deny that I loved him anymore."

It was then that DJ turned back toward Kurt and stuck his hand out.

"I am... Very happy to meet you Kurt."

Kurt took the offered hand, noting the roughness of his palm as he shook it for the second time.

"You too Dartagnon."

DJ snorts and gives Kurt a playful bump with his shoulder. "Really? Gonna go ahead and use the embarrassing, completely un-couth, government name, huh?"

Kurt giggles and feels the heat rise in his cheeks.

"I sort of have a nasty habit of calling people by their full first names. Just a fun fact about me."

"I suppose I can tolerate it. If you'll let me take you out for a coffee, or a latte, or whatever it is white boys like to drink."

"You know, I would really like that."

"Good. I kinda feel like I owe you anyway."

Kurt shoots him a curious look.

"For helping me come out and all." DJ quips. He then ducks his head, chewing the inside of his cheek again, a habit Kurt notes must occur when he's feeling nervous or self conscious. Kurt finds it rather endearing.

"Truth be told. You were kind of my first boy crush. So I definitely think that some sort of beverage is in order for that alone."

Kurt's face feels hot. Damn his pale skin. "You never even knew me," he mumbles.

"No. Not in the traditional sense. But I know your face. I know your smile. I knew that it was special... It just - It always felt like I knew exactly who you were somehow."

Kurt brings himself to look at DJ, his gaze unwavering.

"I know you're a beautiful person - have to be - because the other boy always looked so complete in the photo, like nothing else seemed to matter but you. And hell I got eyes... the kid's got good taste."

Kurt is speechless. He opens his mouth to respond but then snaps it shut again. DJ is back to chewing the inside of his cheek, looking a bit sheepish at his words.

"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said all that. I was out of -"

Kurt places his finger over DJ's full lips, successfully cutting him off. He smiles up at him, blue eyes brimming with moisture.

"For the record, white boys are definitely into latte's. But I'll settle for a coffee."

DJ's grin is broad as Kurt slips his finger away. "Happy to oblige Mr. Hummel."