After Jake dies, it becomes pointless to look at the clock. Blaine's life is no longer defined by time, but instead by the rise and fall of the sun. The rise that requires him to pretend. That requires him to be together and responsible so that what little he has left doesn't fall apart. But the fall, the darkness of night brings him sleep. It brings him an escape where he can disappear into dreams. A place where he can be with Jake again and pretend, even if it's just for a few hours, that his life isn't a mess.
His mother tells him that it's normal. That if he can just focus on getting through the day, each x off the calendar will bring him closer to healing. The pain won't ever go away, but he'll learn to deal with the constant ache. Because it's just too much. The crushing guilt of surviving, the frantic need to reach out and hold on... the need to be held.
But if he can survive the day, he can escape into the dark of night and the warmth of a decade of happy memories.
5 Days.
"Thank you for coming in, I know that it's been a long few days for your family," Detective Williams explains to him as he leads him over to a private office. It's not the steel tables and double sided mirror that you see in crime shows. It's just a regular office. Cluttered and cramped, but cozy. It helps him relax. He's not on trial here, he's the victim.
There's a woman waiting in the office. She stands up as soon as he walks in. She's short, has brown hair that's pulled back in a messy ponytail and is wearing a grey, long-sleeved dress. She looks professional, if not a little bit tired and frazzled.
"Hi, I'm Jane Miller," she holds her hand out to him. He takes it tentatively, unsure who she is or why exactly she's here.
"Blaine Anderson," he says, proud of how strong his voice is after crying all morning.
He's just come from the hospital. He's wanted to leave that building since Jake passed yesterday, but Olivia isn't set to be released until later this afternoon. He's hoping to get any police business out of the way as fast as he can so that they can return to New York. He's more than ready to get out of this town. It's filled with too many memories.
"I'm from the Victim Witness Assistance Unit and I'm here to help you with whatever you need, both today and in the future," she says.
He nods, unsure what she expects from him, and turns back to Detective Williams.
"You said on the phone that you needed me to ID a suspect?" Blaine asks.
"We do, but we'll get to that later," he says. "Why don't you have a seat."
Blaine takes a seat in one of the open chairs and Jane sits in the chair beside him. Detective Williams moves around his desk and shuffles through his papers for a minute, looking for something.
"There are a few formalities that we need to get out of the way before we have you identify our suspect. You still need to fill out a formal statement on what you witnessed. And there are a couple more questions that we never got to ask at the hospital," he says sliding a pen and clipboard across the desk.
Blaine picks it up and stares at the blank form, baffled. How can an event that has transformed his life so radically be boiled down to a one-page form? It's absurd.
"Just write down everything that you can remember about what happened," Jane says, gently. "The more information you can give the detectives, the better."
"Okay," he says, not sure where to start. He gets as far as writing down his name before he's dropping his pen in frustration. This isn't right. His husband is dead. Some jackass killed him and he's supposed to just write a paper about it like it's some class project? It's wrong.
"It's alright. I understand how hard this must be for you. Just remember, we are here to help you," Jane says.
"Mr. Anderson, we really want to get the guy that did this to you, he's going to pay for what he did," Detective Williams says.
Jane sends the detective a meaningful look, and soon he's backing out of the room, claiming he's going to get Blaine coffee.
"There's no pressure, just write whatever you remember," she says, picking back up the pen and handing it to him. "Take as much time as you need."
Blaine takes the pen and forces himself to start writing. He's surprised, once he starts, just how much he has to say about the incident. He's been feeling powerless since it happened. Doctors, journalists, social workers and family have been so busy speaking on his behalf he hasn't gotten a chance to say much of anything. And damn, does he have a lot of things to say.
They had only been trying to enjoy a warm November day. He had only wanted to wear Olivia out a bit so that she would nap and stop bothering his aging mother as she tried to prepare Thanksgiving. Sure, the little boy had pushed Olivia and broken her leg because she had two fathers, but he was a child. It shouldn't have been a big deal. Jake hadn't even been angry at the boy. He had simply wanted to explain to his parents what had happened so they would be able to talk to him. It would have been traumatizing for Olivia, what with the surgery and the cast, but they would have managed. It should never have gone this far. They hadn't done anything to deserve this.
No, Blaine has a lot to say. There is a rage that has been boiling inside of him for days. He can't remember ever being so angry and anyone in his life. And that is really saying something when you consider just how much prejudice he's had to deal with in his life.
Blaine continues to write until the entire page is filled, front and back, and he's still got more to say. There are holes in the paper from where he's pushed down too hard writing the horrible words they'd been called. Words like "fag," "cocksucker," "perverts," and "child molester."
He feels somebody taking the pen and clipboard from his hands, and looks up to see Jane giving him a sympathetic smile. He'd completely forgotten she was there.
"I want to see him," Blaine says, his voice harsh and bitter.
"Later," she says. "It's been a long few days for you and this has got to be a little overwhelming for you."
Blaine shrugs. He doesn't know this woman and he sure as hell doesn't want to sit here and pour his heart out to her. What is he supposed to tell her? That he misses Jake? Well he was his husband, that much should be obvious.
"Is there something you usually do to relieve stress?" she asks.
Blaine rolls his eyes. He hates talking to people about his problems. But she looks genuine enough and he can hear Jake telling him to let it out. Jake was a big believer in working out your problems with others. He had to be, it was how he made his living.
"Sometimes I box," Blaine says, shrugging it off like it's not important. Like it hasn't kept him from several murderous rampages in the past.
"Come with me," she says with an easy smile. She's pretty when she's smiling, he thinks to himself. The stress in her face isn't as noticeable. She reminds him a lot of his mother.
Blaine follows her as he's led down the hall and past a set of doors that says 'Training.' He's confused as the woman leads him through a locker room and out into a small gym. In the corner is a punching bag that they stop in front of. She grabs a pair of gloves and tosses them at him.
"I don't understand?" He looks at her confused. What was he expected to do? He's only got one good arm to begin with. Besides, he was here to identify a suspect so the police could arrest the man that murdered Jake. What did they care if he was alright or not?
"I've worked with a lot of people in similar situations to yourself. I know that look on your face and what it means," she says. "It's my job to do everything to help you, not to do anything else. The detective can wait, so just work out what you have to work out and we'll deal with everything else after."
Blaine feels weird, but he can't ignore the shaking in his hands. It's been there for days. He's needed this. Needs to get this out of his system. He needs to get his anger out before he goes off and murders the son of a bitch that did this to Jake. Olivia desperately needs him to stay out of jail, and the only way to do that is to calm down. As nice as it might be to punch out their attacker—to punch every single witness that had stood by and let this happen to them.
He pulls a glove over his un-casted hand, knowing that he'll regret not taping up his hand first. But that will come later. Now... now he'll welcome the pain. Welcome having a reason for the ache in his body. He throws his first punch and revels in the way the hard hit can be felt throughout his whole body.
He closes his eyes for a moment and puts himself back in that park. Pictures all the happy families that were there. All the fellow dads that had stood by and watched when they were capable of stopping this. He allows himself to remember the hateful glare that had been directed at Jake as the first swing of the bat connected with his skull. He throws another punch, harder this time, but still not satisfying enough. He pictures his face, holds it in his mind as he continues to hit the bag with more and more force.
He can already feel his arm beginning to ache from the continued abuse, but he ignores it. He takes a moment to wish that he could use both of his hands, thinks of how much more damage he could inflict with the full use of his body. But it's one more thing to blame that bastard for.
He blacks out everything else except for the bag and his memories for a long time. He continues to punch as the event plays out over and over in his mind. Each time it replays, he pictures another way he could have stopped it from happening. He shouldn't have tried to grab the bat. Should have snuck up from behind. Punched him in the gut. Snapped his wrist so he couldn't hold the bat. Punched him in the face harder. Gotten his own weapon... He should have done something more. Somebody should have helped them. God... so many things should have happened and not a single one of those involved Jake being the one that had to die to protect them. That was Blaine's job...
He doesn't know how long he stands there, continuing to throw punches, but he does know that when he finally comes back to himself he's so utterly spent that he collapses against the wall from sheer exhaustion. Detective Williams is back and standing next to Jane. He's not sure when the man came back and how long they've both been watching him lose himself.
"My sister is gay," Detective Williams says after what seems like a minute, but Blaine realizes must have been at least 15. "She's been with her partner for twelve years."
Blaine doesn't know if he's expected to say anything, and if so, what?
"I just... I want you to know that I'm going to fight like hell on this case. I take this as personally as I would if it had happened to my sister."
The admission comes as a shock. For years, he's viewed the police as enemies. As somebody that will help him when he needs it, but will always blame him. Hearing that the detective is going to fight for him. That he's on his side and understands, it's more than he can take at the moment. He mumbles out a quiet thank you and barely manages to avoid crying. He's finally got an ally.
The detective hands him a water bottle and Blaine takes it with a shaky hand. His arm feels like Jell-o. He knows that he'll be sore for several days. Doesn't know how he's going to manage carrying Olivia everywhere once she's released and still unable to walk. But those are problems he can worry about later. Those are welcome problems... ones with easy solutions and timelines. These are problems he can manage.
He doesn't know how to manage losing his husband forever just because some hateful, spiteful man hadn't liked his presence for five minutes.
"I want to see him," Blaine says, looking the detective right in the eyes so that he knows that he is serious.
"Okay," Detective Williams says.
Blaine pulls himself to his feet and stretches his arm out, giving himself a moment to mentally prepare for what's going to happen. He doesn't think he's ready to see his attacker again. But also knows that there is a pull at his heart that tells him he needs to do this. He has to do this. He needs to look at the man that did this to them. If not now, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to do it.
"What do I do?" Blaine asks.
"You're going to be taken into a room. You'll look at a lineup of people. If the man that attacked you is in the line, you need to identify the man for Detective Williams," Jane explains carefully.
Blaine nods, because that much he had known. He's watched enough crime shows to understand how a lineup works.
"Then what? What happens once I identify the man?"
"Well there's a few things that will happen after, before we can—" Jane starts to explain before she's cut off.
"Then we'll arrest the asshole," Detective Williams says. Jane glares at him, but doesn't say anything. Detective Williams just shrugs as if he's not sorry, even if he probably should be.
"Okay," Blaine says. His voice is more sure now. He can do this. The man can't hurt him from inside here. In fact, Blaine finally has the chance to hurt him back. All he has to do is point the man out and he's going to jail. He can't touch them anymore.
The two of them lead Blaine back out the way they came and they head down a different hallway. The detective opens a door and leads Blaine inside a small room. There's a few chairs, a small table and an empty water cooler. One wall is made up of a blacked out window, he knows this will be how he looks at the suspects. Knows that the men won't be able to see him. Blaine doesn't see the point of that. The man knows who they are. He'd looked them right in the eye when he attacked them.
Blaine wishes for the chance to look him in the eye again as he says the magic words that will have him locked up.
"Alright, take a seat here. I'll be back in a few minutes, alright?" Detective Williams says.
Blaine ignores the request, instead settling for pacing the room back and forth and playing with the edge of his cast. The door clicks shut and he is left with Jane again. He's worried that she's going to want to talk about how he feels, but she thankfully leaves him alone to his thoughts. He pulls at a loose thread on his sweatshirt. Runs hands through his messy hair. Taps out mindless rhythms on walls. He feels guilty, like he should be trying harder to appear put together in front of Jane. His Dalton upbringing never quite leaving him. But he's more anxious than he thought he would be. He's unsure why, he's completely safe. People do this all the time.
Still, he can't keep his hands still.
About fifteen minutes later, Detective Williams comes back with another man.
"Mr. Anderson, I'm Chief Harrison." The man holds out his hand and Blaine shakes it mindlessly.
Time starts to catch up with him and everything starts to feel that much more real. The beat of his heart. The click of Jane's pen. He's suddenly hyper-aware of everything, yet still in a fog. It's disorienting and strange. It's not something he's ever experienced before. There's a cough and a hand on his shoulder that feels heavy and ominous. He looks up at Detective Williams, who is giving him an encouraging smile.
He knows that he's missed everything the man has said to him, but nods his head anyway. He just wants this over with. The next thing he knows, he's staring into the eyes of the man who murdered his husband.
He's shorter than Blaine remembers him to be, but he remembers those eyes well. He's positive it's the guy and it makes his knees shake for a moment. He gets a heavy feeling in his head and suddenly he's cold. He doesn't understand what's happening to him until he looks down at his feet and sees Jake lying on the ground trying to get up as he's kicked in the stomach.
"Stop!" he yells, holding out his arms to stop the bat from colliding with Jake's skull. The metal hits his right wrist so hard that he feels it snap, but he doesn't have time to worry about his wrist when the bat is being lifted and swung again. This time it hits Blaine in the chest.
"Papa!" Olivia screams. Blaine looks over to see his daughter struggling to make her way over to them.
"Stay there!" he orders her. She's crying and screaming for the man to stop, but she doesn't come any closer, for which Blaine is thankful.
The man continues to kick Jake in the chest, stomach and head with his heavy boots as Blaine tries to stop him while avoiding the swing of the bat.
"Mr. Anderson!"
Blaine is jolted back to reality as two sets of arms pull him away from the window. He instantly tries to fight against them. He can still see the slimy bastard watching him through the window. He knows Blaine's there even if he can't see him. He doesn't even have the decency to look guilty.
"Fucking bastard!" Blaine yells. "I'll kill you! I'll fucking tear you apart!" he screams, fighting hard against the arms of the detectives.
"Blaine! Stop!" Detective Williams yells at him.
He's forced into a chair by two hands that are much stronger than his own.
"Calm down, alright?" Detective Williams says, giving him a warning look. "I told you that we would get him, but we have to do it by the book. You're not doing anyone any favors right now."
Blaine doesn't care if they do this by the book. Right now he doesn't give two shits if he gets arrested too, because he knows that all he needs is a minute. One minute and he'll be able to wipe that stupid smirk off the asshole's face and make sure that he never lives to see another day. He doesn't deserve to be here if Jake isn't.
"Hey, hey!" Chief Harrison yanks him back in his seat when he starts to stand up again.
Jane stands up from where she's been watching silently in the corner and pulls a picture out of one of her folders. It's Olivia's preschool photograph. The one she had taken a few months ago.
"What are you doing?" Blaine asks, his voice full of contempt.
"Take a look at this little girl," she says, her voice gentle but strong. "Do you know who this is?"
"Of course I know who she is, she's my daughter. My daughter who is in a cast because of that asshole!" he yells moving to get up again just to be slammed back into his chair.
"Well, look hard. Do you really want to miss out on watching her grow up? Do you want to see her once a month through a glass window? Get cards on holidays with her pictures and that's it? Because that's what's going to happen if you let this rage control you," she says.
Blaine takes a deep breath and tries to force his hands to stop trembling. His entire body is on overdrive, filled with more emotion than he realized was possible. He's on edge and just wants to beat something up. Thirty minutes with a punching bag hadn't been nearly enough to get all of his rage out. Not when he could still see it all so clearly.
"Just tell us what number he is, Blaine. Tell us the number and we can lock him away for a very long time," Detective Williams says. Blaine can hear the anger in the other man's voice, can recognize the hunger for blood. It helps bring him back to himself. Reminds him that he doesn't have to fight this battle alone.
"Three. Number three," he says through clenched teeth.
"Good," he says, moving to press a button and suddenly the window is blacked out again.
"We'll give you some time," Chief Harrison says.
The two men leave the room sharing significant looks. Blaine is dying to know what it means and what happens next. Needs to know that the bastard is going to jail. That he's going to get the chair for doing this to his family. It's the only option he's going to feel comfortable with.
"Is there somebody you would like me to call?" Jane asks, setting her folder, as well as the picture of Olivia, down and moving to stand in front of him.
"Yeah, my husband," Blaine snaps.
He stands up and throws the chair he was sitting in against the wall. Jane jumps back, startled. The look of fear on her face, so similar to Olivia's, mixed with the sound of medal hitting the wall, too familiar to be comfortable... it's too much. He's sinking to the floor and dry heaving.
He makes it to his hands and knees before he starts sobbing gut wrenching sobs. The kind of heavy sobs that make it feel like all of his organs are going to come out of his ribcage. It's messy and unattractive and he has a moment where he desperately hopes that Jake wasn't right about heaven because he doesn't want to know what his husband would say if he could see the mess he has become.
He can't do this. He can't be a father by himself. He can't even be a whole person by himself, how is he expected to take care of somebody else when he can't even take care of himself.
He vaguely recalls the sound of the door clicking open and shut, but it doesn't register. Nothing registers to him until Cooper eventually comes into the room and pulls him into his arms. Blaine realizes that he must have been in that room crying his heart out for a long time, because he knows for a fact that Coop had been at the hospital across town when Blaine arrived at the station. Jane must have found his number and called him to pick Blaine up. It's for the best. There's no way he can do anything by himself at the moment.
"Shh, shh, it's alright," Cooper says, pulling Blaine's head into his lap and stroking his hair as he continues to cry. "It's going to be alright now. I'm here."
Blaine lets himself believe Cooper's words. Let's himself trust that his family will help him get through this and they won't let him mess this up. He continues to cry in his brother's lap and is grateful that Cooper never once mentions the sheer amount of tears and snot that Blaine has gotten on his pants. He just continues to run a soothing hand through his hair until his tears finally subside.
"You ready to get out of this place?" Cooper asks once Blaine has gotten his breathing back under control and can sit up on his own.
"Yeah," he says, pulling himself to his feet. "I'm sorry..."
"Hey, you had an emotional breakdown in the middle of a police station, I'm sure you're not the first," Cooper says with a forced laugh.
"What time is it?" he asks, his voice sounding hoarse from the strain all his yelling and crying.
"Time for you to go home and clean up so we can go pick up Olivia without her having to see her father looking like something from Walking Dead."
"Nice," Blaine says, punching Cooper in the arm half-heartedly. He still wasn't in the mood for joking, but he appreciated that Cooper was still trying.
6 Days.
From Kurt:
Is it true?
Blaine's phone lights up from its spot on the table where he'd left it in favor of trying to feed Olivia breakfast. They've spent the night at his mother's. The hotel they had been staying at earlier in the week had offered to let them continue to stay free of charge as long as was needed, but Blaine didn't feel comfortable staying there. He doesn't feel comfortable anywhere in Ohio anymore, but if they can't leave yet, his mother's apartment is the closest sanctuary they will find.
"Who's that, Daddy?" Olivia asks, moving to try and grab the phone with her syrup coated hands. He quickly moves it out of her reach. He can't respond to Kurt at the moment, as curious as his text has made him.
"Just one of Daddy's friends. Stop playing with your food and eat," Blaine says.
"Uncle Wes? I wanna see." She reaches out again for the phone.
"It's not Uncle Wes," Blaine says, putting a bite on a fork for her and feeding her. He hasn't had to feed her since she was two, but he's been warned that this might happen. That she might regress a bit. That she might become more dependent. He's been warned about a lot of things regarding Olivia and how she would be changed forever now. In trying to be helpful, none of the doctors or social workers had remembered to tell him what he needed to hear most. That she would be fine and they would get through this together.
"I wanna see Ashy," she whines. She's been whining all morning. It's grating and he can feel a headache beginning to form, but he reminds himself to be patient. She's been through a lot.
"Ashley is back in New York with her family. When we get back, we can call Uncle Wes and see if Ashley can come over. But for now, eat your pancakes. We need to get moving."
"Don't wanna," she says with a defiant cross of her arms.
"Well, tough love kid, you've got to eat them," he says, fixing her with a stern look. She's always been a picky eater, but she doesn't usually have problems with pancakes.
"Don't tasted like Papa's," she says, sadly poking at the pancake with her finger.
Blaine doesn't know what to say to that. He doesn't have the heart to continue to force her to eat if it's making her sad about Jake. But he also knows that she needs to eat something, otherwise they'll be dealing with an even crankier toddler today.
"They taste like Grandma's," Cooper says, walking into the room and putting his coat down. He's obviously just arrived, but has heard the last of their conversation.
"I want Papa's panedcakes," she says.
"Well that's a shame," Cooper says, leaning over and taking a bite for himself. "Because these are delicious. Did you know that they were your Papa's favorite? He loved Grandma's pancakes."
"Really?" Olivia asks, turning to Blaine for confirmation.
"Yep," he says with a shaky smile.
She tears off a small piece with her hands, ignoring the fork that Blaine is handing her. She licks it at first, and then, after a moment, finally eats it.
"It's better than Donalds," she says, picking up the fork to eat the rest on her own.
"Way better than McDonalds," Cooper says ruffling her messy hair.
"Thanks," Blaine says. He doesn't know how he's going to do this by himself when they go back to New York in a few days.
"I see you two aren't ready," Cooper teases.
"It's been a long morning," Blaine says. He's exhausted. He didn't get nearly enough sleep last night thanks to Olivia's constant nightmares.
"Can you watch her for me? I'm going to go take a shower," Blaine asks, quickly pocketing his phone before his nosey brother can go through his messages.
"No problem," he says.
"If she finishes, her clothes are laid out on the bed."
Blaine quickly disappears to the bathroom. He turns on the shower, and as he waits for the ancient pipes to heat up enough, he pulls out his phone.
From Blaine:
Is what true?
From Kurt:
News reports are saying that they arrested the man. His wife turned him in?
Blaine sighs. Of course it is already national news. He doesn't know if he'll be able to get used to the media circus all of this has become. His family has done a good job of sheltering him from it, but they won't always be there for him. He feels bad, but he's hoping that something horrible happens somewhere else in the world. That way the news will have something else to talk about and he can get his privacy back.
From Blaine:
She found out about it and turned him in. The police had me ID him yesterday.
He sets the phone on the counter and gets in the shower. The warm water helps relieve the tension in his muscles from sleeping in awkward positions for the last week. He feels the ghost of fingers across his back. Practiced hands rubbing knots out of his shoulders. He has to close his eyes to keep the sob from escaping too loudly. He misses Jake so much.
From Kurt:
What happens now?
The text reads when he finally pulls himself out of the shower a half hour later. It's the question he's been asking himself. He has no idea.
8 Days.
"Olivia, stay in your chair," Blaine says as he stands in line to buy snacks for the plane ride home. It's only an hour long flight, but he knows how badly flying affects Olivia's ears and wants her to have something to chew on.
"I wanna walk," she says, continuing to try and stand up. Blaine groans and pushes her back in the seat.
"We talked about this, you can't walk with that cast on your leg. You need to stay in your chair," Blaine says.
Olivia continues to struggle to get out, so Blaine has to set down their snacks on a nearby shelf and kneel down so he's level with Olivia.
"Stay in your seat," he says firmly.
"No!" she yells. A few heads turn to look at them. Blaine feels his heart rate pick up at the added attention. He doesn't like the thought of people looking at him. He's been paranoid recently.
"Yes," he says, pushing her back in her chair and holding her their while she flails back and forth. He winces as she kicks him in the chest and struggles to hold her shoulders back in her seat while grabbing onto her good leg with his free hand.
"No!" she screams. "I want Papa! I want Papa!"
She begins to cry hysterically and he notices he's getting an increasing amount of looks. Some are sympathetic mothers, understanding the pain of having a child at the airport. Others are judgmental businessmen, clearly thinking he's incompetent for being unable to control his child. While others are just... curious? He can see a hint of recognition in their eyes and it makes him want to throw up. He doesn't know what he'll do if they recognize him and start asking questions. He just wants to get back to New York and lock them up in their apartment, away from the world.
"Olivia, stop," Blaine says firmly. He wants to be understanding. He's tried to be understanding. But this is one fit too many and he's feeling his patience beginning to snap.
"You're the worstest Daddy! I want Papa inseded!" she yells. Her face is bright red. It reminds him of when she was a baby and she used to cry so loudly. When she used to get so upset that she would hold her breath until she passed out, scaring Jake and him half to death until their pediatrician assured them it was a common thing and she would grow out of it.
His head is pounding and he has to bite his tongue to keep from yelling back at her. He tries to tell himself that she doesn't mean it. But it's hard when his own mind has been telling him for days that the wrong parent died. Jake would have known what to do. Blaine? Blaine is just failing. Just like he'll continue to fail her and she'll grow to resent him.
"Now boarding flight number 6040 Delta Airlines."
"Shit," Blaine mutters under his breath. He takes one look at their discarded snacks and the line of people that have formed in front of him and decides they don't have time for food. Olivia will have to make do with whatever the airline provides.
He wheels his still screaming daughter to their gate and hands their boarding passes over to the flight attendant. The woman takes one look at him, struggling with one good hand, their two bags, the wheelchair and Olivia and waves over another attendant to help them onto the plane. They have to turn in the chair before boarding the plane and he struggles to hold onto Olivia as she continues to try and wiggle out of his grasp.
"I can walk!" she yells.
"And I told you the doctor said no," Blaine snaps.
He feels bad about it, especially after the flight attendant gives him a disapproving look, but he can't help it. He'd like to see her go through this and see how she manages.
They settle into their seats and he is incredibly grateful when a woman settles into the seat next to them and begins talking to Olivia. She's shy at first and refuses to answer the woman in anything except one word answers, but at least she's stopped screaming. He holds his breath when the lady asks what happened to Olivia's leg.
"A mean boy pushed me off the slide," she answers, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Oh, no. That's not very nice," the lady says.
"He was mad I haded two daddies. But he can't be mad cause now I only have one daddy," Olivia explains, picking at the end of her sweater.
The lady looks shocked and looks up at him, instantly recognizing him. He's relieved when she chooses not to say anything and instead goes on to ask Olivia about her favorite story. Tired beyond belief, he closes his eyes for a minute, only to find the flight attendant shaking him awake an hour later. He'd slept through the entire flight. Olivia is looking at him with a smile. The first he's seen in days.
"Ready to go home, Littlebit?" he asks.
"Can we get pizza?" she asks, holding out her stuffed alligator for him to carry. He takes it and tries to stuff it into her small backpack.
"Sure," he says. Pizza will be far easier than trying to put together whatever they manage to have in their kitchen.
"Okay, les go," she says, unbuckling his seatbelt for him, trying to hurry him along. He stands up and stretches for a minute. They are one of the last people on the plane, which gives him a sigh of relief. He doesn't feel like fighting his way through a crowd.
"Sir, there's a wheelchair waiting for you at the gate," the flight attendant says, helping him get together all of their things. Olivia is trying to help pack her backpack but is only managing to create more of a mess as she continues to hand him things from inside that she doesn't want to carry.
"Thank you," he says.
"And your friend is waiting at the gate as well to help you," she says with a smile as she hands him the last of their stuff.
"Friend?" he asks, confused. He didn't think anyone was supposed to be meeting them at the airport.
"A Wesley Montgomery, I believe?"
"Oh thank god," he says with a sigh of relief. He's glad he doesn't have to deal with getting through the airport and getting a cab by himself.
"Uncle Wes!" Olivia shouts excitedly.
The two of them make their way to the gate and are immediately engulfed in a big hug.
"Uncle Wes! Uncle Wes!" Olivia scrambles to get out of Blaine's arms and into Wes'.
"Oh my gosh," Wes says holding her at arm's length and looking her over. "Who is this little monster?"
"Is not a monaster, is Olivia!" she giggles.
"Olivia? No... my little Livie is much smaller than this. I think you ate her," he says pulling her in to playfully nibble at her neck. "Did you eat my baby girl?"
"No!" she says, laughing hysterically.
It's nice to see her laughing again, Blaine thinks. He wonders how long it will take him to laugh again.
"I no eat! It's me! I'm a big girl now!"
"Oh my, well I guess it is you, isn't it?" Wes says with a big smile. He sets her on his hip and kisses her on the cheek.
"I broked my leg," she says pointing to her cast.
"I heard," Wes says, picking up her little backpack from where it's fallen on the floor and putting it in the wheelchair. He gestures for Blaine to do the same with his bags. They both begin walking towards baggage claim. Wes carrying a talkative Olivia while Blaine pushes the wheelchair.
"I didn't expect you to be here," Blaine says once they reach baggage claim. Olivia is back in her chair and is entertaining herself by watching a seeing eye dog the man next to them has. She's always been fascinated by animals.
"Your mother sent me your flight information," Wes says, shrugging his shoulders.
"Yes, but don't you have work?" He asks. He doesn't want everyone dropping their responsibilities to take care of him. It's the reason he wouldn't let Cooper or even his mother come back to New York with him.
"I can afford to leave a few hours early to pick up a friend at the airport," he says.
"Daddy, is a helping dog," Olivia says, pulling him out of his conversation with Wes.
"Yes," he says. "He helps that man because he can't see."
"So the doggy makes him feel better?" she asks.
"Kind of. The dog helps him walk around safely and do other things," he explains.
"That's nice," she says. "We should get a helping doggie to helped us."
"We don't need a helping dog, babe."
"But he could helped me walk," she explains to him in an exasperated tone. "Then you won't push me and carry me."
"I don't think it works like that," Wes says. "But I'll tell you what. Next time you come over to see us, you can play with our dog."
"S'not the same," she grumbles.
Wes gives him a concerned look and Blaine waves him off.
"She's been grouchy the past few days," he explains. "You should have seen the fit that she threw at the airport."
"Well, you know Charlotte and I are always here if you need a break. Four year olds aren't the easiest, and now that it's just the two of you... well, don't be embarrassed to ask us for help. Ashley is always asking if Olivia can come over. She loves seeing her."
"Thanks, I'll try to remember that," he says.
"Daddy, why is that man taked our picture?" Olivia asks. Blaine and Wes turn in the direction that she's pointing and notice a man with an expensive looking camera snapping shots of them.
"I was worried about this," Wes grumbles.
"Let's just get our bags and go," Blaine says, pulling the hood of Olivia's coat up and angling them so that the man can't get a good photograph. He wonders if this is going to be his life now—famous for something so tragic he'd much rather forget it ever happened.