I do not own Glee or related characters, nor do I own the film The Fountain, the basis of this fic.
.: The Last Man :.
The jungle is alive with the sounds of the night.
All around trees creak and moan through the torrent of rain outside; creatures tear through the underbrush with growls and hisses as they search for shelter from the unyielding weather.
They're completely on their own.
The Conquistador kneels before the makeshift altar, his helmet long disposed and his head bowed; unruly midnight curls clinging to frame of his face. He is praying, thinking, wishing, hoping. A crack of thunder causes his form to jump; he looks up as a streak of lightning illuminates the outside world for a split second before it once again plunges into darkness.
He stares at the relic before him, taking in its symbolic meaning of the country he is risking his life for.
The country he shall deliver from bondage.
He bows his head once more, fingers deftly slipping the front pocket of his overcoat; he rubs at the small bundle of leather before fully removing it and cradling it in his hands. The leather is worn and faded, tied together by three corners and a simple string. He lifts it to his nose, inhales the musky sent, and for a quick heartbeat the only thing he can see is the morning light reflected in a pair of unwavering blue eyes. The image fades with another crack of thunder and he's reverently peeling back the folds of his parcel, his heart in his throat as he gazes at the object in his palm.
A simple golden band.
Hesitantly, the Conquistador reaches up to trace the rim with a fingertip; the metal warm from his body heat and smooth to the touch. Another whip of lightning illuminates the sky and the ring glints in the sharp light.
"Together," he mutters as the light fades out of existence, "forever."
"I'm sorry, but I can't."
"But it's the first snow, we al—"
"I can't; sorry."
"I'll see you at home, alright?" He's fixed with a glare that could very well melt the first snowfall of the season before the man in his doorframe gives an exaggerated huff and stalks off down the hall. He merely rubs his face and sighs, regret already bubbling up in his chest; he needs to fix this. Rising from his chair he darts out of his office, his mouth already falling open to call out as the doors at the end of the hall open in a blinding display of light.
The man he loves disappears out into the first snow of the winter, alone, without him.
"Blaine!" He hears his name but doesn't respond as he continues to frown at the exit, "we need you! We're about to start!" There's a hand pulling at his shoulder and he stumbles as he allows it to pull him deeper into the recesses of the lab so as to continue work on their latest project. His colleague, Wes, makes small chat as they enter the pre-surgery lab room and begin to sanitize so as to avoid contamination with the results. He busies himself with scrubbing his hands, only realizing after he shuts off the water that he's forgotten to remove his wedding band; he fingers the small piece of metal with a smile before placing it on the small shelf just above the faucet.
"Ready yet?" Wes is impatient – they all are – and he nods as he slips on his gloves and mask and together they walk into the surgery already underway.
Before them, unconscious with the aid of a local anesthetic, is Finn the chimp; his head already cut open so as to allow access to the brain tissue where a tumor sets nestled amongst the veins.
He grimaces as he steps closer and asks for a status report as he himself picks up a scalpel.
The door slams shut behind as the wind pulls it from his grasp; it almost gets his finger.
With a sigh he leans against it, a hand rubbing warily at his face as the other drops his bag to the floor. With a sigh he kicks the thing to the side as he shrugs out of his coat and toes off his shoes onto the awaiting towel lining the wall.
Snowy slush melts as it warms to room temperature.
He neatly hangs his coat on the hook designated for that purpose, followed by his hat and scarf before moving from the foyer and past the living room; he stops as flash of yellow catches his eye. Turning towards the empty room he sees it yet again and steps down the small flight of stairs to enter the room. There, on the mantle across from him, sits a tiny yellow bird; its head cocked to side as though appraising him.
He frowns and moves toward the bird, fully expecting it to take flight, but smiles slightly when all it does it hop onto his outstretched finger. He rubs at its head before placing it back in the brass cage perched on the table by the window; his smile grows sad.
"It's one of those days, eh, Pav?" The bird gives a single chirp in response and he watches at it hops from perch to perch before coming to rest so as to preen itself. With a shake of his head he leaves Pavarotti to his devices and retreats back to the hall so as to continue the hunt for his husband. He makes his way towards the kitchen, the air becoming slightly cooler as he stops in the doorway.
"Kurt?" There's no response except the ticking of the wall clock. "Kurt?" He tries again, this time setting foot over the threshold only to see the fluttering of the curtains covering the French doors. He frowns, confused as to why the doors would even be open, and makes his way over. Night air drifts over his socked feet and he pulls back the curtain and sticks his head out only to be met with the shocking cold only a snowball can bring.
He doesn't need to see to know Kurt's laughing from where's sitting at the patio table; he can hear it perfectly fine. Reaching up, he wipes the icy crystals from his face and blinks away the stinging cold.
He's finally able to see his husband.
Kurt's still laughing even though he's now trying to hide it behind his hand in an attempt to be mature about the whole thing. The effect's lost, however, what with the brightness of his eyes and the obvious upturn of his cheeks from his smile.
"Hi." He greets, his voice small and innocent as Blaine just shakes his head and steps out into the deck.
"What, may I ask, are you doing out here?" He approaches the table and in the dim light escaping from the open door behind him he can see a small pile of books. Kurt shrugs from where he sits and flips shut the open journal before him.
"Well it started off as research," he explains with a nod toward the thick tomes, "but now it's mostly star gazing." At this Blaine looks up and notices that the thick wooly clouds from the day's earlier snowstorm have moved out and left the sky wide open.
Its breathtaking how many stars there are.
"Never knew you to be the nature type." He jokes as he moves to stand behind Kurt's chair and grip his shoulders gently; he can feel every minute shift of bone beneath his fingers.
"Don't be silly, Blaine, of course I'm not!" Kurt scoffs much to Blaine's chagrin. "It's all a part of my research."
"Oh really, now? And what part might that be?" He watches as Kurt shakes his head and pulls himself from his grasp so as to stand next to him. Blaine automatically twines an arm around the petite waist as Kurt raises an arm to point at the sky.
"That there is Xibalba," Hazel eyes follow the thin, outstretched porcelain finger to a small blurry dot in the distance, "the Mayan underworld."
"How can it be under if it's in the sky?" Kurt rolls his eyes and settles into Blaine's side.
"The stories say that it's the place where souls go to die so as to be reborn, which is fitting because the star itself is in the process of supernova." Kurt pauses here, almost thoughtfully, before he shakes his head and continues softly. "One day it's going to die and give birth to new stars, who in turn will also die and create new stars and the process just keeps going, really."
"And you know all this how…?"
"I took science in school, Blaine, give me some credit!" Blaine laughs and squeezes at his hip. "It also helps that one of the books I checked out mentioned it, so of course it sparked an interest which led to even more research."
"But of course." Blaine agrees with a grin only to be lightly smacked in the chest for his patronizing. He manages to catch the hand before it disappears and he holds it delicately in his grasp; it's so tiny and light compared to his own.
It's also freezing cold.
"Kurt…" Blaine starts, pulling his arm from around his husband's waist so as to grab his other hand, "your hands, they're practically frozen." He looks beyond their intertwined fingers and can see the outline of bare toes in the snow underfoot. "Your feet! How long have you been out here?" He looks up to meet a neutral glasz colored gaze before Kurt's pulling himself free and gathering up his materials from the table.
Blaine stops him with a hand on his shoulder. "I got this, you go run a bath. We need to get you warmed up, alright?" Kurt gives him a long look, a look he can't quite decipher, before he nods and leans in to peck Blaine on the cheek as he reaches out to support himself on the shingled siding of the house as he makes his way inside.
Blaine watches him go with a hard swallow before he grabs at the books littering the table and gives the sky one last glance before going in for the night. Xibalba's still just a small dot amongst the billions above him, but it seemingly glows brighter than the rest since Kurt found it special enough to point out.
He smiles when Kurt hums in response to his fingers running through his hair; it's just gotten long enough to do so without it feeling weird.
"Are we having another Rachel Berry crisis?" The question's so soft he almost doesn't catch it, but he does and it makes him pause in his actions.
"What?" He pulls his hand from Kurt's hair and slides around to the side of the tub so as to be face to face. Kurt lifts his hand from the bath and pulls at the ring finger on his left hand where it's resting along the rim.
His wedding band is gone.
"Oh, that," Blaine pulls his hand from the soapy grasp and rubs at where the small golden band use to circle, "I lost it at work today, but I swear I'll find it."
"Hey, if you can't wait, you can't wait. I get it." Kurt tries to joke from where he sits in the tub submerged up to his neck in bubbles. Blaine's face immediately falls at the implication and he moves to stand only to have Kurt reach out and desperately grab at him.
"No, don't, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it, honestly." Blaine turns on his knees and is shocked to find Kurt leaned over the edge of the tub, unshed tears gleaming in his eyes.
"Heat the sponge." Blaine swallows at the smallness of Kurt's voice and can't help but to shuffle closer and fish around for the sponge hidden amongst the bubbles.
Not once does he break eye contact.
He reaches for the hot water handle and turns it on, letting it run until its steaming to the point where he can't even handle the sponge as he soaks it beneath it. He turns it off as Kurt gathers his legs against his chest, his knees resting above the water line like small snow caps. Blaine winces as he switches the sponge over to his other hand and presses it gently to the exposed pieces of leg; Kurt makes no expression.
Blaine's heart practically stops in his chest.
He moves the sponge to Kurt's shoulder and up his neck, the water still hot enough to bite at his skin yet Kurt does nothing more than sit there and watches his face. For a brief moment the two of them simply stare at each other, a million unconscious things being said between them, before Blaine's dropping the sponge with a small sob. It splashes back into the water and only then does he see the small wisps of steam rising from the mounds suds.
"You've...you've lost sensitivity to hot and cold." His voice comes out strangled and quiet and before he knows it Kurt's halfway out of the tub and clinging to him, his arms clenched around his shoulders.
"It's nothing big, I swear! It's only been for a little while now!" Blaine returns the embrace just as roughly as the one he's in and shuffles closer towards so as to alleviate the weird angle Kurt's body is attempting to achieve.
"Earlier…"Blaine tries to choke out as tears cloud his vision, "earlier, outside, you couldn't feel the cold either, could you?" He feels it on his shoulder as Kurt shakes his head in the negative and that's all it takes for the tears to fall as another strangled sobs works its way out of his body. He makes to pull away, but Kurt only clings tighter.
"Don't leave me, no, please!" He cries as Blaine begins to rise up on shaky legs
"But…but we need to call-"
"In the morning. We'll do it in the morning." Kurt vows as he pulls Blaine over the edge and brings him crashing down into the bathtub in a flurry of water and movement.
For a long moment they simply stare at each other with teary eyed expressions.
Blaine eventually raises his hand to cup a pale cheek and gently wipes away a new string tears as they fall ever so slowly from eyes like galaxies.
"I could never leave you," The curly haired man shakes his head with a watery smile, "nothing can ever make me." Kurt's tears fall twice as hard at the words as a pair of lips meets his in a kiss so tender and loving it has him clinging to the man in front of him with everything in his being.
A place without time.
That's where he is.
There's no past, no present, and only one future.
He ghosts a hand across the bark of the tree, smiling sadly when the small fibrous hairs only halfheartedly follow his fingertips.
It use to be so much stronger.
He use to be stronger.
He's going to fix it; going to finish it.
They're almost there.
A/N: So yeah. Here's Fountain!Klaine, something I've been toying around with for a while. My writing's obviously gone down hill since I haven't done anything in forever, but it is what it is.
For those of you confused: hopefully this will make more sense as it progresses and if you decide to follow along. It's based off the movie The Fountain (Hugh Jackman, Rachel Weis) and is a gorgeous movie with a breathtaking story and plotline. I've obviously tweked it some and moved some parts around, but you get the idea. Very beautiful and moving, one of the few movies I cry during, which is saying something. Any specific questions can be left in a review or in a message - I don't want to spoil anyone!