A/N: I'm baaaaack! So, Lake Garda in Italy is definitely one of the most beautiful places in the world, and while I'm there I come up with … this.

By the way, I'm from the UK, so I use British spellings. I just find 'mom' really weird to write- no offense to all you Americans, it's just my British brain :) Just to cap any comments about that, should they come in.

I have no idea why I like writing stuff like this, seeing as I'd never in a million years read it myself… so I don't blame you for not.

Wait- in my author's note, I'm writing to people who aren't even gonna read it?

I'm just gonna go check myself into a mental hospital. While I do that, enjoy.

Disclaimer: My previous disclaimer in all other stories and chapters still stands.

Kurt hated it. He hated the visions. He hated being in complete power but not being able to act on it. It was hardly like he could go to the police:

"Someone's going to die tonight, on the highway. You have to stop it!"

"OK, son. How'd you get this information? You hear people plotting a murder?"

"No, I saw it in a vision!"

Yeah, right. That would be a one-way ticket into a mental asylum (A/N: What a coincidence. ;) ). He wasn't going to do that.

But what could he do without seeming crazy? He couldn't tell anyone (that wasn't Carole, Finn or his dad, that is) about the visions. He hadn't even told Blaine, and Blaine knew everything about him.

Almost everything.

It came in two minute fragments, like slowly reading a book. Each fragment showed a piece consecutive to the one before, until Kurt knew exactly where, when and who was dying.

He ought to have told Blaine. It would have been nice to have someone outside his family know. After all, Blaine and him had so many shared secrets. Kurt was going to keep Blaine's secrets safe forever, and he trusted Blaine with his, even if they weren't together anymore.

But lately, the visions were starting to go wrong. The wrong street, an hour too early, sometimes even the wrong gender. Kurt had no idea what was happening, like everything else to do with the visions. Not a clue.

Kurt missed Blaine. He'd never admit it, but he did. He missed Blaine as much as he missed his mother.

His mother. He kept seeing her death in the visions, despite the fact she'd been dead 9 years. But if no-one in Lima or its vicinity was going to die before their time in the next 24 hours, he'd see her death.

She pays in the shop. Her purse is out. The shopkeeper can see her driving license briefly. Her name is Bernadette E. Alson.

There is a photo- of her son. Eight years old. Chestnut hair, grey-blue eyes.

Kurt snaps awake. It's his mother again. He was seeing her more often now than a year ago. People are getting safer, apparently.

Bernadette Elizabeth Alson. That was her maiden name. Kurt loved the 'Bernadette' part of it all- the same name as Bernadette peters. It was definitely a hint that he was going to make it on Broadway some day.

She walks out of the shop. There is a newsstand. Smiling at the old man, she checks the date and pays.

Tuesday, 15 August.

She tucks the newspaper into her bag and walks on.

Kurt comes to with a shudder of horror. His mum didn't die on the 15 August. She died on the 9 November. The 15 August was today. Is today's death's visions so wrong that it's being confused with his mum's death? It can't be… unless the two deaths are really that similar. Kurt has a feeling that there's nothing he could do, that a gravestone has already been placed, a grave already dug. He's never felt this feeling of dread and panic about his visions, never.

She stops at a street corner.

The visions are shorter and coming quicker now. Kurt can tell that the death is nearing. If he wanted to, he could go find someone – his dad, or Carole. But there's something about this particular death that keeps him at his vanity.

She checks the street name. Walnut Avenue. She walks on.

The death would be nearing, if his mum had actually died today. It could be the same hour…

She takes some flowers out of her bag, smiling.

It's a bouquet of lilies.

That's strange- she hadn't had flowers before.

She carefully checks the road. Silence. It's evening.

Where's the car? The car should be here by now. There's something wrong with this. The accident happened in the middle of the day, not in the evening.

A car speeds around the corner.

The car came straight on. This is the wrong car. It isn't the blue car that killed his mum, with the sobbing elderly lady driving. It's a new silver one.

A gunshot. The flowers drop and roll into the road. The car is gone.

No- this is completely wrong! His mum was run over. No-one wanted to shoot her. Why was she shot? Kurt is starting to panic.

But that was it. The last vision. Bernadette Alson, evening of 15 August, Walnut Avenue. With a shock, Kurt suddenly remembers that Walnut Avenue is a few roads down from his house, and not even the road his mum died on. She died on Walnut Road, didn't she?

Kurt finally manages to calm his shaking hands and wanders into the living room, where Carole is watching the news. He doesn't notice the shock on her face.

But one glance at the TV is enough to reduce him to hysterics.

Here lies Blaine Everett Anderson

Eternally loved

12 February 1995 – 15 August 2012

It is the courage to continue that counts.

G-B-C xx