Looking for a Happy Ending - Epilogue
Title: Looking for a Happy Ending
Author: firefly_ca
Pairing,Character(s): Kurt/Blaine, with eventual appearances from pretty much everyone
Rating: NC-17 for disturbing themes, scenes, etc.
Word Count: The final section is about 5k, the entire story is around 63.5K
Spoilers: All of S2
Summary: AU. Blaine Anderson hasn't been Blaine Anderson for 8 years. He doesn't remember much about his old family and his life before he moved in with the man he calls his father. Together they move from town to town, always drifting before Blaine can get too familiar with his surroundings. Then one day they end up in Lima, Ohio, and Blaine finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew.
A/N: This is the final piece in the first half of this story! Thanks so much to all of you who commented and took the time to read. I'm thrilled that you all liked it (well, not so much liked it, given the subject matter, but...you know). The sequel should be beginning to be posted this fall, but how quickly it will happen is going to depend on my workload at school.
As requested, here is a link to a PDF version of this story. Apologies if the formatting is a little off for ereaders - I've never made a PDF for this purpose before, so I was just sort of guessing on how to make it as user-friendly as possible, based on how this sort of thing goes for me when I have to reformat PDFs into EPUB format. EDIT: I just looked through this thing and saw how many typos and errors I never fixed in the original Word document (which is where I made this from). I've redone the PDF using the text that ended up getting posted and isn't so messy. Please download this new one if you want the version without (as many) words randomly missing from sentences :)
If anyone is interested in reading more about the real story much of this is based on, you can do so here, but be warned, Steve Stayner's story doesn't end as happily as this one does. He did save the life of another little boy and they did both get away and grow up to be successful, happy adults with families of their own, but it's sort of one of those scenarios where the universe takes one group of people and in the grand schemes of everyone's lives, craps all over them. Their lives after the papers stop following them get really depressing for completely unrelated reasons, is what I'm trying to say.
Finally, if any of you start thinking the final scene of this story uses any phrases that sound suspicously familiar, I have a confession to make: I had two songs stuck in my head almost non-stop while I was writing the scene, just because they fit so well for the situation. One I'm using for the sequel so I won't tell you what it is (nyah!) but the other one for anyone even vaguely interested is right here. As a bonus, Darren Criss is the one performing it and any Starkid fans reading this probably already know what the song is going to be. Go watch it again anyhow. You know you want to :)
Detective Warren thanks Blaine for the information and pulls a piece of paper from one of the files as she gets up to leave and talk with one of the other officers. She doesn't notice when the pictures slide out of the manila folder . Blaine picks them up once she's closed the door behind her.
There's an old photo of him, probably a school portrait, smiling hugely for the camera. He's missing a front tooth which gives him a lopsided, slightly comical appearance. There's also a police sketch of a man who looks somewhat like Tom, but not astonishingly so. If Blaine didn't know who he was looking for he would probably walk past him on the street and not think twice about it.
Then there are a series of enlarged, low-quality, grainy stills that seem to have been taken from a security camera. One shows Blaine, clearly annoyed and facing off with a man turned away from the camera, who is squatting down to point a finger at Blaine in some sort of reprimand. His heart jumps a little when he realizes the man must be his father. In the next still, someone who could be Tom is walking alone. The final picture is of Tom again, this time walking in the opposite direction, holding one of Blaine's hands while in the other Blaine clutches that stupid stuffed toy.
Blaine flips back to the first still and looks a little closer at the entire scene. Sure enough there's Tom, standing almost out of frame and watching the confrontation with interest.
"You shouldn't be looking at that until we have a chance to see what you can remember on your own," Warren says as she walks back into the room. Blaine lets her take the photos back as he wipes hard at his eyes.
"I don't remember most of it," he says. "I know the elephant came from a claw machine and Tom helped me win it. I sort of remember asking Dad if I could get it, but everything else is a blank."
He's silent a moment before he speaks again.
"He always told me that my parents were his friends. He talked like he knew them, but he never did, did he? That picture of him watching us? I bet that was the first time he ever saw me."
"Your parents' statement says they'd never seen him before," Detective Warren confirms. "My partner is on the phone with them right now. Apparently they've been calling the police station in Westerville daily since the story about Stevie first ran. They thought it sounded like the older boy could match your description. I guess they were right."
Blaine is stunned.
"They live in Westerville? Ohio?"
He laughs a little and leans back against the pillows.
"God," he says. "He found out I'd been driving to Westerville with friends. It's why we left Lima. He was so fucking mad at me. I couldn't figure out why."
"Would you like to talk to them?" Detective Warren asks.
Blaine shakes his head.
"Not yet," he says. "I just want to get everything else out of the way first."
"You mean the tests?"
"Tests, interviews, whatever," Blaine says. "I just want all of it to be over."
"We can wait until they get here if that will make it easier," Detective Warren suggests.
"Why would it be any easier?" Blaine asks. "I'll just be telling embarrassing things to an even bigger group of strangers."
"What about Mr. Hummel? He should be here any minute, and I'm sure we can arrange something."
"No offense to Mr. Hummel, but that might be even worse. I like his son, I really don't want him hearing about my sexual history."
"That's a valid point," says Warren, who is smiling again. Blaine really does like her. Some of the nurses and doctors have been looking at him like he's going to shatter if they blink at him funny, but Detective Warren treats him like a normal human being. If he makes a joke she doesn't look at him like he's going to pieces, she just smiles. So long as she thinks it's funny.
"Okay Blaine, I'll get nurse in here to take your history, and they'll send someone in to draw blood and check for any other injuries."
"Are they going to take more pictures?" Blaine asks.
"Maybe," Detective Warren says, apologetically. "It depends on if there's any sort of damage that can be documented as evidence."
If it was anyone else, Blaine would just nod and not say anything, but Detective Warren is looking at him expectantly and it's not like Blaine won't have to tell her about it sooner or later so he says,
"How long does something like that last? I never look after Tom does anything. I don't like thinking about it, but a couple weeks ago - right after we left Ohio - he was really angry and it was pretty bad. Like, the roughest he's ever been. He always goes a little crazy when he thinks I'm going to leave him."
"Does he now?" And now Blaine knows what Detective Warren looks like when she's pissed off. "Well, how sad for poor Tom."
She takes a deep breath and Blaine can actually see her count to ten before she continues.
"Tell you what," she says. "I know you're not wild about the photographer being in here, so Detective Carter or myself can be present for the exam and take any pictures that we need. Then we can talk about the past month or so with Brenner. We can't cover over eight years worth of criminal activity in one morning, so we'll leave it at that for now."
Blaine nods, and then asks,
"Was he still there when the police got to the house?"
Detective Warren rolls he eyes, like she's decided Tom isn't worth her professionalism.
"No," she says. "He got up to go to the bathroom and somehow sorted out the two of you were gone. They were getting ready to arrange a manhunt when a neighbour called to complain about the drunk guy trying to break in. Apparently he thought you were hiding there."
"Sort of glad I didn't go with that option, then," Blaine says.
"It wouldn't have mattered," Warren says. "One way or the other this wouldn't have gone on another day. You boys made sure of that."
***
Blaine's been talking to Detective Warren for almost two hours straight when someone knocks on the door and her partner pokes his head inside.
"Sorry to interrupt," he says. "Blaine's parents just called. They said they'll be here in just a little over half an hour."
Blaine thinks he might actually throw up. Detective Warren notices, because she's kind of freaky and can tell every time Blaine is upset about something, no matter how well he tries to hide it.
"Blaine," she says softly. "It's going to be okay. They love you."
"I know," Blaine says, ignoring the voice inside his head that is screaming, But they don't even know me.
"You look a little green," she says, back to her matter-of-fact tone, like she can tell Blaine likes that better. "Do you need a glass of water? Maybe a break for some fresh air? The doctor said you were fine to walk around a bit if you were careful. I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem if you wanted to step out of the room for a minute."
Blaine nods, gratefully. The hospital room is tiny and claustrophobic, and Blaine feels weighed down by the bad memories and sterile air. Thankfully they've let Blaine wear scrubs instead of one of those awful gowns, so he doesn't feel like a complete moron when he carefully steps out of the room, pulling his IV along with him.
He's a little surprised to see Burt Hummel waiting outside the door, talking to one of the officers that are still crawling around on the floor. He sort of thought when no one would let him see Blaine right away, he'd go find a place to sleep or something.
As soon as Burt sees him he cuts short his conversation and hurries over.
"God, am I ever glad to see you again," he says, and Blaine almost laughs, because that's the last thing he ever thought he'd hear Kurt's father saying to him.
Burt puts a hand on Blaine's shoulder and squeezes it gently.
"Thanks for coming," Blaine says. "I'm sorry for bothering you. They told my parents and they're on their way now. I wouldn't have asked you to come all this way if I'd known they were going to do that."
"Don't apologise," Burt says bluntly. "It's a good thing, Blaine. You've got your family back."
Blaine smiles at him, weakly. He's not going to tell Burt what he's thinking right now, because he's starting to sound like a broken record, and everyone is just waving off what he says anyhow. He wonders if anyone will even believe him if he tells them that things aren't working and he can't fit in with the Andersons anymore.
"Don't look so worried, either," Burt says, cutting into his thoughts. "I'm not pretending things are going to be easy for you. No one actually believes that. But in all honesty? After what you did last night, I think the general opinion is that you can make things work for you. From what the Evanses have been telling me you might be able to turn water into wine, too. You'll sort things out, and if you ever feel like you can't? Our door is always open, Blaine. Just because you have a home again doesn't mean you can't come over if you need a break."
"Thank you," Blaine says. It doesn't make him feel better exactly, but it's nice knowing that the Hummels aren't going to pat him on the head and send him off without another thought, too. He hears someone calling his name and cringes a little, trying to fight back the instinct to run and make a fool of himself before he realizes that his parents can't be here already and even more to the point, that the voice belongs to someone he knows.
Blaine turns around and sees Sam Evans striding quickly towards him. His clothes are wrinkled, he doesn't look like he's shaved or combed his hair for a while, and his eyes are watery and red-rimmed. Blaine glances around nervously, wondering where Detective Warren has gone. He knows that whatever Sam wants to do to him, he probably deserves it. After all, it's his fault things went as far as they did. Stevie never would have been taken if he'd just grown a brain and told somebody why he was in trouble. Still, he's not looking forward to getting punched in the face and would like to avoid it if he can.
The absolute last thing he expects is to suddenly be wrapped up in the biggest bear hug he's received since, well, possibly ever as Burt is forced to make a grab for his precariously teetering IV, but that's what is happening. Sam is hugging him so hard Blaine can't even move his arms, leaning down slightly and burying his face in Blaine's shoulder. It sort of hurts, but Blaine doesn't know what to do about it. He was expecting a little pain obviously, but not because Sam Evans is an enthusiastic hugger. He's muttering something Blaine can't make out.
"Sam?" He asks. "Are you okay?"
He's aware it's about the stupidest question he could possibly be asking at the moment, but he doesn't know what else he should be doing. Sam sniffles and pulls back, just a little, and now Blaine can make out the words:
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you..." repeated like a mantra, like he isn't planning on stopping anytime soon.
"Hey," Blaine says, squirming a little until he finally frees a hand and manages to pat Sam awkwardly on the shoulder. "He's a really strong little kid. He'll be fine."
He feels Sam nodding as he says, "I know. But he wouldn't have been if you hadn't been there. I haven't...they won't let me...I haven't been in the room with them while he's been talking, but Mom and Dad have come out a couple times and told me some of what he's been saying."
Sam sniffs again and doesn't say anything for a moment, but Blaine can feel his shoulder getting wet. It's not the greatest feeling. Maybe he should apologise to Rachel for how he latched onto her at Anthony's party. He could send a card. She seems like the sort of person who'd love to get an "I'm Sorry I Created An Awkward Social Situation" card from Hallmark.
"I'm sorry," Blaine says again, needing to fill the silence. "I never wanted that to happen to him."
Sam lets out a little huff of air that in any other circumstance might be a laugh.
"Oh my god, shut up," he says. "Why are you apologising? You saved my brother's life, Blaine. You don't need to be sorry for anything."
But I am, Blaine thinks. He doesn't say anything though, and opts for patting Sam on the shoulder again. Somebody behind them clears their throat.
"Sorry to interrupt," Detective Warren says and sure, now she shows up. "Blaine? The doctor didn't want you overdoing it after the night you've had. I think we should get you back to your room. Mr. Evans?"
Blaine can just see her over Sam's shoulder. She's smiling just a little bit, but it's the kind of smile girls get when they watch baby pandas sneeze on the internet.
"I'm going to need you to let go of Mr. Anderson now, okay?" she says.
Blaine's stomach flutters when he hears his old name being said out loud like that, but he doesn't have time to dwell on it because Sam is pulling back and swearing a little as he uses one of his sleeves to wipe at his face and the other to wipe at Blaine's shirt, saying,
"Oh shit, I'm sorry. I totally just used your shirt as a Kleenex and that is the last thing you need right now. You're like Batman. You're a hero who should have, like, a statue or something. You don't deserve my snot all over you."
"It's fine," Blaine says, now smiling too. "Don't worry about it."
He doesn't really know Sam that well at all, but he thinks he gets why Stevie loves him so much. He's about the nicest, warmest person Blaine has ever met. If a teddy bear ever came to life, Blaine thinks it would be a lot like Sam.
He turns to go, but Burt, who has been standing around watching instead of helping, says, "Wait!" like he's just remembered something.
"Kurt's been going a little nuts with the text messages this morning," he's saying, reaching over to a desk to grab a pen and piece of scrap paper. "He wanted to make sure I had you call him as soon as I saw you."
He scribbles something on the paper before handing it to Blaine. Blaine takes the piece of scrap paper cautiously, trying to will his hand to stop trembling as he stares at the familiar number.
"I heard someone say that your parents are in Westerville," Sam is saying. "Kurt's there, too. Maybe you should talk to him - a familiar face might be nice if you're freaking out about having to get to know your whole family again."
"How did you know I was worried about that?" Blaine asks.
Sam smirks,
"Mom says Stevie has asked if you can move in with us at least six times since we got here. He's saying you'll get lonely at home and if your parents are sad about it, too bad, but maybe they can take you on weekends like the kids in his class from split families."
"Okay, lesson learned," Blaine says. "Never confide in an 8-year-old."
"Yeah," Sam says. "I've been there. At least it's not as bad as Stacy. She tells your secrets and braids your hair."
***
Once Blaine is sitting on his bed again, he looks carefully at Detective Warren.
"He said he wanted me to call right away," Blaine says, uncertainly.
"Maybe you should do that," she says, just a little too innocently to be believable. At this point Blaine is starting to wonder why he thought she was so professional and detached. He'd say she was being mean, but it's so nice to be treated like this is only about calling a boy he likes that he just lets himself enjoy the moment. He looks at her expectantly.
She gives him a look before heading to the door.
"I can take a hint," she says. "Let me know if you need anything."
He stares at the phone beside the bed like it's going to bite him for a few more minutes, then he pulls the receiver off the cradle and starts dialling before he can talk himself out of it. It barely has time to ring before Kurt is picking up.
"Blaine?"
"Why aren't you in class?" Blaine asks, looking at the clock. "I thought I would be leaving you a message or something."
"I skipped," Kurt says impatiently. "Like I'd be any good in class today. Blaine, are you okay?"
"The doctor said I fractured my wrist but they don't think they need to reset anything," he offers.
"Fine," Kurt says. "But seriously. You're okay?"
"I don't think I get the question," Blaine says.
"Blaine, a strange man stole you from your family and ran away with you," Kurt says. "He did terrible things to you and I want to know if you're alright."
"All of that happened a long time ago, Kurt," Blaine says gently. "I know it's all new to you, but I've sort of had a long time to adapt."
Kurt makes a semi-despairing noise before saying,
"Why didn't you tell me he'd kidnapped you?"
"I never told anyone," Blaine says. "And I never thought about it like that, anyhow. He told me they didn't want me anymore. I don't know, I was stupid I guess, but he made it all sound so reasonable. I never thought anyone would help me."
"I would have helped you," Kurt insists. "You had to have known I would have helped you."
"You did help," Blaine says. "You guys gave me a home when you knew I needed one."
"We never should have let you go back to him," Kurt says. He sounds angry with himself.
"I didn't exactly tell you the truth about what was happening," Blaine says. "You didn't know the whole story."
"We knew enough of it," Kurt says, determined to feel bad about this. "You were drunk out of your mind when you told me what you did. I should have known there was more to it than you were saying. No one ever makes sense when they're that drunk. That time I threw up at school I mistook Mrs. Pillsbury for a cartoon character."
"Okay that's it," Blaine says. "I think I'm a patient person. I'm okay with people taking their time and doing things at their own pace, but Kurt? If you don't tell me that story right now, I swear I will hang up and never talk to you again."
Just like that the heavy mood lifts. Kurt placates Blaine and tells the story about April Rhodes and her vintage gay porn, and even after the conversation returns to where Blaine will live now, and how far his home might be from Dalton, it's hard to feel too upset or anxious when somewhere in the back of his head there's now an image of Kurt sipping on cheap wine and reading about the chiselled pecs of Muscle Beach in the 1960s.
"Really it's not too bad at all," Kurt says. "Westerville is so close to Lima, even if I wasn't going to Dalton, meeting up for dinner and a movie would be completely doable."
Kurt starts to trail off for the last part of the sentence, like he's just realized what he's saying and is desperately trying to apply the brakes.
"Oh God," he says, sounding more embarrassed than Blaine has ever heard him. "I'm sorry, I wasn't even thinking. Look, just forget that last part, okay? I don't expect you to drop everything and start dating me or anything stupid like that while you've got so much going on in your life, I promise. There's no pressure on you, I don't care if you never even want it to go anywhere. It's not like we had a chance to talk about this before you left, so don't think - "
"Where's a good place to go to dinner in Westerville?" Blaine says, cutting off Kurt's panicky rambling. There's a pause before Kurt says,
"Really?"
"Why not?" Blaine asks. "You make me happy, Kurt. I'm not saying...it's going to be weird. I know that. Nothing about my life makes sense right now, and I know I'm a total fuckup, but if you really still want to do this, I'm in."
"Don't talk about yourself like that," Kurt says. "Also? You have no idea how much I still want to do this. If anything you've proven you're even more my type than I thought you were and I need to stop talking about this right now or I'll do something mortifying like say how you've demonstrated you're going to be an excellent father for our children."
Blaine laughs and Kurt sighs a little.
"Yeah," he says. "That was exactly the sort of thing I didn't want slipping out."
"It could have been worse," Blaine says. "You could have said you wanted to actively have my babies."
Kurt is spluttering a defence and doing a pretty bad job of it when there's a knock on the door. Detective Warren pokes her head inside and Blaine feels like someone has taken all the oxygen out of the room. Has it been half an hour already?
"I have to go," He mutters into the phone.
"Okay," Kurt says, his voice suddenly serious. "Don't worry Blaine. Everything will be fine. You have my number now, call me when you need to, alright?"
"Okay," Blaine says faintly. He hangs up the phone before he remembers to say goodbye. He doesn't want to do this.
"They're outside right now," Detective Warren says, stepping into the room. "Do you need a minute?"
"No," Blaine says quickly. "They've been waiting a long time to see me."
Detective Warren doesn't look convinced.
"So they probably won't notice a few extra minutes," she says. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Blaine runs his good hand through his hair. If he thought he was shaking when he got Kurt's number he must have been crazy. He's trembling now like he's been out in the snow for two hours without a coat. Warren crosses over to him and puts her hands on his shoulders.
"Hey, come on. Look at me," she says, and her voice is little more than a murmur. She's not giving an order so much as she's tossing him a life preserver. His looks at her a little desperately, his breath shaky and his vision blurring.
"Take a breath," she says. "Not too deep, let's give your ribs a break, but just...breath, okay? Focus on that. In and Out. Breathing's good."
For the next several minutes Blaine tries to do what she's asking, but he isn't having much luck. It's ridiculous because he knows he's safer now than he has been in years, but he can't remember the last time he's felt this scared.
"I don't know who they are," he finally says to Detective Warren. "You could literally send in anyone from that hallway saying they're my parents and I wouldn't be able to tell you the difference."
"You remember better than you think you do," she promises. "Don't worry if it doesn't all come back to you at once. You will remember more the longer you're with them."
"What if they're angry that I've forgotten so much?" he asks.
"If they're angry they aren't angry at you," Detective Warren says. "They're angry at the person who made you forget. You can do this, Blaine. Are you ready?"
"No," says Blaine. "But I'm never going to be. Just send them in?"
"Okay," Detective Warren says. She smoothes her hands over the fabric on his shoulders a couple times and then goes out into the hallway again. Time seems to stop, and the sounds of the hospital seem dull and undefined in Blaine's ears. He stares straight ahead. All he can see is the door in front of him. He wonders if this is taking as long as it feels like it's taking, but then Detective Warren is pushing the door open again and Blaine can only think that this is happening too fast.
A man and woman come into the room. They look tired and rundown, but not the sort of tired Blaine is right now, where you haven't slept very well for a night, or even a few weeks. There are lines in the man's face, and the woman's hair is going gray. They don't look like Burt or Carole either, who both have tired traces of sadness hiding at the corners of their features.
These aren't the faces of people who have lost someone they love to death; they're the faces of people who have lost a loved one but were never given the luxury of closure. The woman looks like she's going to fall over, and there are tears silently running down her face. She's looking at Blaine like she wants to say something - do something - but she's frozen in the moment, staring at the tatters of an entire childhood has been stolen from her every bit as much as it's been stolen from Blaine. He just stares back, as silent and frozen as she is.
"Blaine?" the man finally says, tentatively, and it makes Blaine jump a little, because that's the first thing he's heard his dad say in eight years but nothing about the voice is familiar to him. His father looks positively haggard and in a shock of clarity, Blaine realizes he looks as scared as Blaine feels. Blaine wonders what his father has to be scared about, but then his dad is shaking his head a little saying,
"I'm so sorry, Blaine. I'm so, so sorry."
"What did you do?" Blaine asks, nervously.
The man laughs a little in disbelief and wipes his eyes.
"I always promised myself I'd never start like this," he says, almost to himself. "But if I'd kept a closer eye on you that day - "
"Stop it," his mom whispers, and Blaine doesn't remember her voice, either. "We're not doing that right now."
She looks at Blaine and takes a halting step towards him.
"Hi, baby," she says, reaching out a hand towards him, slowly like Blaine will bolt or disappear if she gets too close, an Blaine wonders if she dreamt about him fading away like he dreamt about her.
"Hi," he says, uncertainly, and his mother lets out a sob and has suddenly crossed the room too quickly for him to really register, already pulling him into her arms. Blaine can still recognize the sound of her crying and it feels like someone has dumped ice water onto him. This is what he's wanted more than anything else in the entire eight years he's been away. He's wanted it more than he wanted Kurt to like him back, more than he wanted someone to know his secrets, even more than he wanted to get away from Tom. But now that it's here he's just standing stiffly in her embrace, not sure how he should respond or feel. He feels like he's so close to what he always wanted but now that he has it he doesn't know what to do with it.
Slowly he moves to lean against her a little more and put his good arm around her, not because he feels the need to do so, but because when someone hugs you, you're supposed to hug them back. His brain registers just a hint of a smell. He doesn't know what it is - it could be the laundry detergent or fabric sheets that they use, but Blaine remembers that, too. Suddenly the enormity of what is happening hits him like a wave. His mother is here again, holding him, and she doesn't hate him, and his father is just as scared that he let Blaine down as Blaine has been scared of his dad not wanting him.
"Mom?" he says and he wants to tell her that he's sorry for making her worry, that he's glad to see her again, and that he loves her, but "Mom" is all that he can get out before he's unable to speak, and he doesn't know if it's because he's crying too hard or if he's just so relieved. The longer he looks at them the clearer their faces get in his memories and the more he realizes that maybe he was never as lost as he thought he was.
And then his dad is there too, hugging both of them, and Blaine wishes his one arm wasn't in a cast because he can only clutch at his sleeve and it's not good enough, because Blaine has finally found something to hold onto that isn't a dream or wishful thinking. He hasn't left the hospital yet and he already feels like he's home.
To Masterpost
Author: firefly_ca
Pairing,Character(s): Kurt/Blaine, with eventual appearances from pretty much everyone
Rating: NC-17 for disturbing themes, scenes, etc.
Word Count: The final section is about 5k, the entire story is around 63.5K
Spoilers: All of S2
Summary: AU. Blaine Anderson hasn't been Blaine Anderson for 8 years. He doesn't remember much about his old family and his life before he moved in with the man he calls his father. Together they move from town to town, always drifting before Blaine can get too familiar with his surroundings. Then one day they end up in Lima, Ohio, and Blaine finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew.
A/N: This is the final piece in the first half of this story! Thanks so much to all of you who commented and took the time to read. I'm thrilled that you all liked it (well, not so much liked it, given the subject matter, but...you know). The sequel should be beginning to be posted this fall, but how quickly it will happen is going to depend on my workload at school.
As requested, here is a link to a PDF version of this story. Apologies if the formatting is a little off for ereaders - I've never made a PDF for this purpose before, so I was just sort of guessing on how to make it as user-friendly as possible, based on how this sort of thing goes for me when I have to reformat PDFs into EPUB format. EDIT: I just looked through this thing and saw how many typos and errors I never fixed in the original Word document (which is where I made this from). I've redone the PDF using the text that ended up getting posted and isn't so messy. Please download this new one if you want the version without (as many) words randomly missing from sentences :)
If anyone is interested in reading more about the real story much of this is based on, you can do so here, but be warned, Steve Stayner's story doesn't end as happily as this one does. He did save the life of another little boy and they did both get away and grow up to be successful, happy adults with families of their own, but it's sort of one of those scenarios where the universe takes one group of people and in the grand schemes of everyone's lives, craps all over them. Their lives after the papers stop following them get really depressing for completely unrelated reasons, is what I'm trying to say.
Finally, if any of you start thinking the final scene of this story uses any phrases that sound suspicously familiar, I have a confession to make: I had two songs stuck in my head almost non-stop while I was writing the scene, just because they fit so well for the situation. One I'm using for the sequel so I won't tell you what it is (nyah!) but the other one for anyone even vaguely interested is right here. As a bonus, Darren Criss is the one performing it and any Starkid fans reading this probably already know what the song is going to be. Go watch it again anyhow. You know you want to :)
Detective Warren thanks Blaine for the information and pulls a piece of paper from one of the files as she gets up to leave and talk with one of the other officers. She doesn't notice when the pictures slide out of the manila folder . Blaine picks them up once she's closed the door behind her.
There's an old photo of him, probably a school portrait, smiling hugely for the camera. He's missing a front tooth which gives him a lopsided, slightly comical appearance. There's also a police sketch of a man who looks somewhat like Tom, but not astonishingly so. If Blaine didn't know who he was looking for he would probably walk past him on the street and not think twice about it.
Then there are a series of enlarged, low-quality, grainy stills that seem to have been taken from a security camera. One shows Blaine, clearly annoyed and facing off with a man turned away from the camera, who is squatting down to point a finger at Blaine in some sort of reprimand. His heart jumps a little when he realizes the man must be his father. In the next still, someone who could be Tom is walking alone. The final picture is of Tom again, this time walking in the opposite direction, holding one of Blaine's hands while in the other Blaine clutches that stupid stuffed toy.
Blaine flips back to the first still and looks a little closer at the entire scene. Sure enough there's Tom, standing almost out of frame and watching the confrontation with interest.
"You shouldn't be looking at that until we have a chance to see what you can remember on your own," Warren says as she walks back into the room. Blaine lets her take the photos back as he wipes hard at his eyes.
"I don't remember most of it," he says. "I know the elephant came from a claw machine and Tom helped me win it. I sort of remember asking Dad if I could get it, but everything else is a blank."
He's silent a moment before he speaks again.
"He always told me that my parents were his friends. He talked like he knew them, but he never did, did he? That picture of him watching us? I bet that was the first time he ever saw me."
"Your parents' statement says they'd never seen him before," Detective Warren confirms. "My partner is on the phone with them right now. Apparently they've been calling the police station in Westerville daily since the story about Stevie first ran. They thought it sounded like the older boy could match your description. I guess they were right."
Blaine is stunned.
"They live in Westerville? Ohio?"
He laughs a little and leans back against the pillows.
"God," he says. "He found out I'd been driving to Westerville with friends. It's why we left Lima. He was so fucking mad at me. I couldn't figure out why."
"Would you like to talk to them?" Detective Warren asks.
Blaine shakes his head.
"Not yet," he says. "I just want to get everything else out of the way first."
"You mean the tests?"
"Tests, interviews, whatever," Blaine says. "I just want all of it to be over."
"We can wait until they get here if that will make it easier," Detective Warren suggests.
"Why would it be any easier?" Blaine asks. "I'll just be telling embarrassing things to an even bigger group of strangers."
"What about Mr. Hummel? He should be here any minute, and I'm sure we can arrange something."
"No offense to Mr. Hummel, but that might be even worse. I like his son, I really don't want him hearing about my sexual history."
"That's a valid point," says Warren, who is smiling again. Blaine really does like her. Some of the nurses and doctors have been looking at him like he's going to shatter if they blink at him funny, but Detective Warren treats him like a normal human being. If he makes a joke she doesn't look at him like he's going to pieces, she just smiles. So long as she thinks it's funny.
"Okay Blaine, I'll get nurse in here to take your history, and they'll send someone in to draw blood and check for any other injuries."
"Are they going to take more pictures?" Blaine asks.
"Maybe," Detective Warren says, apologetically. "It depends on if there's any sort of damage that can be documented as evidence."
If it was anyone else, Blaine would just nod and not say anything, but Detective Warren is looking at him expectantly and it's not like Blaine won't have to tell her about it sooner or later so he says,
"How long does something like that last? I never look after Tom does anything. I don't like thinking about it, but a couple weeks ago - right after we left Ohio - he was really angry and it was pretty bad. Like, the roughest he's ever been. He always goes a little crazy when he thinks I'm going to leave him."
"Does he now?" And now Blaine knows what Detective Warren looks like when she's pissed off. "Well, how sad for poor Tom."
She takes a deep breath and Blaine can actually see her count to ten before she continues.
"Tell you what," she says. "I know you're not wild about the photographer being in here, so Detective Carter or myself can be present for the exam and take any pictures that we need. Then we can talk about the past month or so with Brenner. We can't cover over eight years worth of criminal activity in one morning, so we'll leave it at that for now."
Blaine nods, and then asks,
"Was he still there when the police got to the house?"
Detective Warren rolls he eyes, like she's decided Tom isn't worth her professionalism.
"No," she says. "He got up to go to the bathroom and somehow sorted out the two of you were gone. They were getting ready to arrange a manhunt when a neighbour called to complain about the drunk guy trying to break in. Apparently he thought you were hiding there."
"Sort of glad I didn't go with that option, then," Blaine says.
"It wouldn't have mattered," Warren says. "One way or the other this wouldn't have gone on another day. You boys made sure of that."
***
Blaine's been talking to Detective Warren for almost two hours straight when someone knocks on the door and her partner pokes his head inside.
"Sorry to interrupt," he says. "Blaine's parents just called. They said they'll be here in just a little over half an hour."
Blaine thinks he might actually throw up. Detective Warren notices, because she's kind of freaky and can tell every time Blaine is upset about something, no matter how well he tries to hide it.
"Blaine," she says softly. "It's going to be okay. They love you."
"I know," Blaine says, ignoring the voice inside his head that is screaming, But they don't even know me.
"You look a little green," she says, back to her matter-of-fact tone, like she can tell Blaine likes that better. "Do you need a glass of water? Maybe a break for some fresh air? The doctor said you were fine to walk around a bit if you were careful. I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem if you wanted to step out of the room for a minute."
Blaine nods, gratefully. The hospital room is tiny and claustrophobic, and Blaine feels weighed down by the bad memories and sterile air. Thankfully they've let Blaine wear scrubs instead of one of those awful gowns, so he doesn't feel like a complete moron when he carefully steps out of the room, pulling his IV along with him.
He's a little surprised to see Burt Hummel waiting outside the door, talking to one of the officers that are still crawling around on the floor. He sort of thought when no one would let him see Blaine right away, he'd go find a place to sleep or something.
As soon as Burt sees him he cuts short his conversation and hurries over.
"God, am I ever glad to see you again," he says, and Blaine almost laughs, because that's the last thing he ever thought he'd hear Kurt's father saying to him.
Burt puts a hand on Blaine's shoulder and squeezes it gently.
"Thanks for coming," Blaine says. "I'm sorry for bothering you. They told my parents and they're on their way now. I wouldn't have asked you to come all this way if I'd known they were going to do that."
"Don't apologise," Burt says bluntly. "It's a good thing, Blaine. You've got your family back."
Blaine smiles at him, weakly. He's not going to tell Burt what he's thinking right now, because he's starting to sound like a broken record, and everyone is just waving off what he says anyhow. He wonders if anyone will even believe him if he tells them that things aren't working and he can't fit in with the Andersons anymore.
"Don't look so worried, either," Burt says, cutting into his thoughts. "I'm not pretending things are going to be easy for you. No one actually believes that. But in all honesty? After what you did last night, I think the general opinion is that you can make things work for you. From what the Evanses have been telling me you might be able to turn water into wine, too. You'll sort things out, and if you ever feel like you can't? Our door is always open, Blaine. Just because you have a home again doesn't mean you can't come over if you need a break."
"Thank you," Blaine says. It doesn't make him feel better exactly, but it's nice knowing that the Hummels aren't going to pat him on the head and send him off without another thought, too. He hears someone calling his name and cringes a little, trying to fight back the instinct to run and make a fool of himself before he realizes that his parents can't be here already and even more to the point, that the voice belongs to someone he knows.
Blaine turns around and sees Sam Evans striding quickly towards him. His clothes are wrinkled, he doesn't look like he's shaved or combed his hair for a while, and his eyes are watery and red-rimmed. Blaine glances around nervously, wondering where Detective Warren has gone. He knows that whatever Sam wants to do to him, he probably deserves it. After all, it's his fault things went as far as they did. Stevie never would have been taken if he'd just grown a brain and told somebody why he was in trouble. Still, he's not looking forward to getting punched in the face and would like to avoid it if he can.
The absolute last thing he expects is to suddenly be wrapped up in the biggest bear hug he's received since, well, possibly ever as Burt is forced to make a grab for his precariously teetering IV, but that's what is happening. Sam is hugging him so hard Blaine can't even move his arms, leaning down slightly and burying his face in Blaine's shoulder. It sort of hurts, but Blaine doesn't know what to do about it. He was expecting a little pain obviously, but not because Sam Evans is an enthusiastic hugger. He's muttering something Blaine can't make out.
"Sam?" He asks. "Are you okay?"
He's aware it's about the stupidest question he could possibly be asking at the moment, but he doesn't know what else he should be doing. Sam sniffles and pulls back, just a little, and now Blaine can make out the words:
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you..." repeated like a mantra, like he isn't planning on stopping anytime soon.
"Hey," Blaine says, squirming a little until he finally frees a hand and manages to pat Sam awkwardly on the shoulder. "He's a really strong little kid. He'll be fine."
He feels Sam nodding as he says, "I know. But he wouldn't have been if you hadn't been there. I haven't...they won't let me...I haven't been in the room with them while he's been talking, but Mom and Dad have come out a couple times and told me some of what he's been saying."
Sam sniffs again and doesn't say anything for a moment, but Blaine can feel his shoulder getting wet. It's not the greatest feeling. Maybe he should apologise to Rachel for how he latched onto her at Anthony's party. He could send a card. She seems like the sort of person who'd love to get an "I'm Sorry I Created An Awkward Social Situation" card from Hallmark.
"I'm sorry," Blaine says again, needing to fill the silence. "I never wanted that to happen to him."
Sam lets out a little huff of air that in any other circumstance might be a laugh.
"Oh my god, shut up," he says. "Why are you apologising? You saved my brother's life, Blaine. You don't need to be sorry for anything."
But I am, Blaine thinks. He doesn't say anything though, and opts for patting Sam on the shoulder again. Somebody behind them clears their throat.
"Sorry to interrupt," Detective Warren says and sure, now she shows up. "Blaine? The doctor didn't want you overdoing it after the night you've had. I think we should get you back to your room. Mr. Evans?"
Blaine can just see her over Sam's shoulder. She's smiling just a little bit, but it's the kind of smile girls get when they watch baby pandas sneeze on the internet.
"I'm going to need you to let go of Mr. Anderson now, okay?" she says.
Blaine's stomach flutters when he hears his old name being said out loud like that, but he doesn't have time to dwell on it because Sam is pulling back and swearing a little as he uses one of his sleeves to wipe at his face and the other to wipe at Blaine's shirt, saying,
"Oh shit, I'm sorry. I totally just used your shirt as a Kleenex and that is the last thing you need right now. You're like Batman. You're a hero who should have, like, a statue or something. You don't deserve my snot all over you."
"It's fine," Blaine says, now smiling too. "Don't worry about it."
He doesn't really know Sam that well at all, but he thinks he gets why Stevie loves him so much. He's about the nicest, warmest person Blaine has ever met. If a teddy bear ever came to life, Blaine thinks it would be a lot like Sam.
He turns to go, but Burt, who has been standing around watching instead of helping, says, "Wait!" like he's just remembered something.
"Kurt's been going a little nuts with the text messages this morning," he's saying, reaching over to a desk to grab a pen and piece of scrap paper. "He wanted to make sure I had you call him as soon as I saw you."
He scribbles something on the paper before handing it to Blaine. Blaine takes the piece of scrap paper cautiously, trying to will his hand to stop trembling as he stares at the familiar number.
"I heard someone say that your parents are in Westerville," Sam is saying. "Kurt's there, too. Maybe you should talk to him - a familiar face might be nice if you're freaking out about having to get to know your whole family again."
"How did you know I was worried about that?" Blaine asks.
Sam smirks,
"Mom says Stevie has asked if you can move in with us at least six times since we got here. He's saying you'll get lonely at home and if your parents are sad about it, too bad, but maybe they can take you on weekends like the kids in his class from split families."
"Okay, lesson learned," Blaine says. "Never confide in an 8-year-old."
"Yeah," Sam says. "I've been there. At least it's not as bad as Stacy. She tells your secrets and braids your hair."
***
Once Blaine is sitting on his bed again, he looks carefully at Detective Warren.
"He said he wanted me to call right away," Blaine says, uncertainly.
"Maybe you should do that," she says, just a little too innocently to be believable. At this point Blaine is starting to wonder why he thought she was so professional and detached. He'd say she was being mean, but it's so nice to be treated like this is only about calling a boy he likes that he just lets himself enjoy the moment. He looks at her expectantly.
She gives him a look before heading to the door.
"I can take a hint," she says. "Let me know if you need anything."
He stares at the phone beside the bed like it's going to bite him for a few more minutes, then he pulls the receiver off the cradle and starts dialling before he can talk himself out of it. It barely has time to ring before Kurt is picking up.
"Blaine?"
"Why aren't you in class?" Blaine asks, looking at the clock. "I thought I would be leaving you a message or something."
"I skipped," Kurt says impatiently. "Like I'd be any good in class today. Blaine, are you okay?"
"The doctor said I fractured my wrist but they don't think they need to reset anything," he offers.
"Fine," Kurt says. "But seriously. You're okay?"
"I don't think I get the question," Blaine says.
"Blaine, a strange man stole you from your family and ran away with you," Kurt says. "He did terrible things to you and I want to know if you're alright."
"All of that happened a long time ago, Kurt," Blaine says gently. "I know it's all new to you, but I've sort of had a long time to adapt."
Kurt makes a semi-despairing noise before saying,
"Why didn't you tell me he'd kidnapped you?"
"I never told anyone," Blaine says. "And I never thought about it like that, anyhow. He told me they didn't want me anymore. I don't know, I was stupid I guess, but he made it all sound so reasonable. I never thought anyone would help me."
"I would have helped you," Kurt insists. "You had to have known I would have helped you."
"You did help," Blaine says. "You guys gave me a home when you knew I needed one."
"We never should have let you go back to him," Kurt says. He sounds angry with himself.
"I didn't exactly tell you the truth about what was happening," Blaine says. "You didn't know the whole story."
"We knew enough of it," Kurt says, determined to feel bad about this. "You were drunk out of your mind when you told me what you did. I should have known there was more to it than you were saying. No one ever makes sense when they're that drunk. That time I threw up at school I mistook Mrs. Pillsbury for a cartoon character."
"Okay that's it," Blaine says. "I think I'm a patient person. I'm okay with people taking their time and doing things at their own pace, but Kurt? If you don't tell me that story right now, I swear I will hang up and never talk to you again."
Just like that the heavy mood lifts. Kurt placates Blaine and tells the story about April Rhodes and her vintage gay porn, and even after the conversation returns to where Blaine will live now, and how far his home might be from Dalton, it's hard to feel too upset or anxious when somewhere in the back of his head there's now an image of Kurt sipping on cheap wine and reading about the chiselled pecs of Muscle Beach in the 1960s.
"Really it's not too bad at all," Kurt says. "Westerville is so close to Lima, even if I wasn't going to Dalton, meeting up for dinner and a movie would be completely doable."
Kurt starts to trail off for the last part of the sentence, like he's just realized what he's saying and is desperately trying to apply the brakes.
"Oh God," he says, sounding more embarrassed than Blaine has ever heard him. "I'm sorry, I wasn't even thinking. Look, just forget that last part, okay? I don't expect you to drop everything and start dating me or anything stupid like that while you've got so much going on in your life, I promise. There's no pressure on you, I don't care if you never even want it to go anywhere. It's not like we had a chance to talk about this before you left, so don't think - "
"Where's a good place to go to dinner in Westerville?" Blaine says, cutting off Kurt's panicky rambling. There's a pause before Kurt says,
"Really?"
"Why not?" Blaine asks. "You make me happy, Kurt. I'm not saying...it's going to be weird. I know that. Nothing about my life makes sense right now, and I know I'm a total fuckup, but if you really still want to do this, I'm in."
"Don't talk about yourself like that," Kurt says. "Also? You have no idea how much I still want to do this. If anything you've proven you're even more my type than I thought you were and I need to stop talking about this right now or I'll do something mortifying like say how you've demonstrated you're going to be an excellent father for our children."
Blaine laughs and Kurt sighs a little.
"Yeah," he says. "That was exactly the sort of thing I didn't want slipping out."
"It could have been worse," Blaine says. "You could have said you wanted to actively have my babies."
Kurt is spluttering a defence and doing a pretty bad job of it when there's a knock on the door. Detective Warren pokes her head inside and Blaine feels like someone has taken all the oxygen out of the room. Has it been half an hour already?
"I have to go," He mutters into the phone.
"Okay," Kurt says, his voice suddenly serious. "Don't worry Blaine. Everything will be fine. You have my number now, call me when you need to, alright?"
"Okay," Blaine says faintly. He hangs up the phone before he remembers to say goodbye. He doesn't want to do this.
"They're outside right now," Detective Warren says, stepping into the room. "Do you need a minute?"
"No," Blaine says quickly. "They've been waiting a long time to see me."
Detective Warren doesn't look convinced.
"So they probably won't notice a few extra minutes," she says. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Blaine runs his good hand through his hair. If he thought he was shaking when he got Kurt's number he must have been crazy. He's trembling now like he's been out in the snow for two hours without a coat. Warren crosses over to him and puts her hands on his shoulders.
"Hey, come on. Look at me," she says, and her voice is little more than a murmur. She's not giving an order so much as she's tossing him a life preserver. His looks at her a little desperately, his breath shaky and his vision blurring.
"Take a breath," she says. "Not too deep, let's give your ribs a break, but just...breath, okay? Focus on that. In and Out. Breathing's good."
For the next several minutes Blaine tries to do what she's asking, but he isn't having much luck. It's ridiculous because he knows he's safer now than he has been in years, but he can't remember the last time he's felt this scared.
"I don't know who they are," he finally says to Detective Warren. "You could literally send in anyone from that hallway saying they're my parents and I wouldn't be able to tell you the difference."
"You remember better than you think you do," she promises. "Don't worry if it doesn't all come back to you at once. You will remember more the longer you're with them."
"What if they're angry that I've forgotten so much?" he asks.
"If they're angry they aren't angry at you," Detective Warren says. "They're angry at the person who made you forget. You can do this, Blaine. Are you ready?"
"No," says Blaine. "But I'm never going to be. Just send them in?"
"Okay," Detective Warren says. She smoothes her hands over the fabric on his shoulders a couple times and then goes out into the hallway again. Time seems to stop, and the sounds of the hospital seem dull and undefined in Blaine's ears. He stares straight ahead. All he can see is the door in front of him. He wonders if this is taking as long as it feels like it's taking, but then Detective Warren is pushing the door open again and Blaine can only think that this is happening too fast.
A man and woman come into the room. They look tired and rundown, but not the sort of tired Blaine is right now, where you haven't slept very well for a night, or even a few weeks. There are lines in the man's face, and the woman's hair is going gray. They don't look like Burt or Carole either, who both have tired traces of sadness hiding at the corners of their features.
These aren't the faces of people who have lost someone they love to death; they're the faces of people who have lost a loved one but were never given the luxury of closure. The woman looks like she's going to fall over, and there are tears silently running down her face. She's looking at Blaine like she wants to say something - do something - but she's frozen in the moment, staring at the tatters of an entire childhood has been stolen from her every bit as much as it's been stolen from Blaine. He just stares back, as silent and frozen as she is.
"Blaine?" the man finally says, tentatively, and it makes Blaine jump a little, because that's the first thing he's heard his dad say in eight years but nothing about the voice is familiar to him. His father looks positively haggard and in a shock of clarity, Blaine realizes he looks as scared as Blaine feels. Blaine wonders what his father has to be scared about, but then his dad is shaking his head a little saying,
"I'm so sorry, Blaine. I'm so, so sorry."
"What did you do?" Blaine asks, nervously.
The man laughs a little in disbelief and wipes his eyes.
"I always promised myself I'd never start like this," he says, almost to himself. "But if I'd kept a closer eye on you that day - "
"Stop it," his mom whispers, and Blaine doesn't remember her voice, either. "We're not doing that right now."
She looks at Blaine and takes a halting step towards him.
"Hi, baby," she says, reaching out a hand towards him, slowly like Blaine will bolt or disappear if she gets too close, an Blaine wonders if she dreamt about him fading away like he dreamt about her.
"Hi," he says, uncertainly, and his mother lets out a sob and has suddenly crossed the room too quickly for him to really register, already pulling him into her arms. Blaine can still recognize the sound of her crying and it feels like someone has dumped ice water onto him. This is what he's wanted more than anything else in the entire eight years he's been away. He's wanted it more than he wanted Kurt to like him back, more than he wanted someone to know his secrets, even more than he wanted to get away from Tom. But now that it's here he's just standing stiffly in her embrace, not sure how he should respond or feel. He feels like he's so close to what he always wanted but now that he has it he doesn't know what to do with it.
Slowly he moves to lean against her a little more and put his good arm around her, not because he feels the need to do so, but because when someone hugs you, you're supposed to hug them back. His brain registers just a hint of a smell. He doesn't know what it is - it could be the laundry detergent or fabric sheets that they use, but Blaine remembers that, too. Suddenly the enormity of what is happening hits him like a wave. His mother is here again, holding him, and she doesn't hate him, and his father is just as scared that he let Blaine down as Blaine has been scared of his dad not wanting him.
"Mom?" he says and he wants to tell her that he's sorry for making her worry, that he's glad to see her again, and that he loves her, but "Mom" is all that he can get out before he's unable to speak, and he doesn't know if it's because he's crying too hard or if he's just so relieved. The longer he looks at them the clearer their faces get in his memories and the more he realizes that maybe he was never as lost as he thought he was.
And then his dad is there too, hugging both of them, and Blaine wishes his one arm wasn't in a cast because he can only clutch at his sleeve and it's not good enough, because Blaine has finally found something to hold onto that isn't a dream or wishful thinking. He hasn't left the hospital yet and he already feels like he's home.
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