Well, this is it. I truly enjoyed this short little story and I hope you all did as well. Fear not, minions, I will be continuing to write. If you have anything- one shots to multi-chapters- that you want me to do or to collaborate on, let me know! Here's our final chapter.

Five Years Later

Kurt woke slowly, feeling his stomach turning and his head throbbing like he had just been hit by a truck. The warm body behind him told him that he wasn't alone again and would likely not remember the name that belonged to the body, but he couldn't really bring himself to care anymore.

The churning in his stomach sent him out of the bed and stumbling toward the bathroom and he vomited into the toilet, clutching the rim. Kurt sat back shaking and holding his head, feeling the cold tile against his naked body.

"You ok in there?" he heard a gruff voice- one that belonged to the warm body, no doubt- call from the door.

"Y-yeah," he said hoarsely. After a few minutes, the man returned with a glass of water, a breath mint, and some Advil. Kurt took them blindly and sat back against the cabinet.

"Need anything else?" the man asked. He seemed nice enough, a far cry from the usual men Kurt found at the bar.

"Where are my clothes?" Kurt asked, finally opening his eyes and looking around.

"Well, your underwear is there," he pointed right in front of him, "jeans are over by the bed and you didn't have a shirt on when we met."

Kurt couldn't help but let out a hollow laugh. It sounded like him. He pulled on his boxers and stood slowly to retrieve the jeans. The naked man was digging through his drawer and he pulled out a white t-shirt.

"Here," he handed it to Kurt. "It's probably a little tight, but that's how I usually wear them."

Kurt nodded and took it, slipping it on. The man was attractive, most definitely. Tan, blond and tall.

"Thanks, I guess. I should go...sorry, what was your name again?"

"Logan," he answered, sounding a little hurt.

"Logan," Kurt mumbled and raked his fingers through his short hair. "Um, thanks for taking care of me this morning. Where are we?"


Kurt groaned. He would be half-way across Manhattan from his apartment.

"Ok. I better go. See ya, I guess," Kurt turned quickly and walked out, hoping to avoid the awkward morning after routine.

After taking a cab as far as his money would take him, he walked the rest of the way, pulling a cigarette out of his jeans and lighting it. Each time he did it, he thought about where his life had gone. Right after Blaine moved on, he finished high school- saludatorian as he predicted- and finished college with a degree in music, but about two months later, everything started to suck. He got his first taste of New York night life after being cooped up in his apartment studying and it hit him hard. Drugs, sex, booze...it was all he knew now. He had cut his hair, let a goatee grow out that he said he would never have, and fashion didn't matter to him at all anymore. Whatever he rolled out of bed in was typically what he donned for the rest of the day. He never actually dated again after Blaine left, but he was what he labeled a whore. He had been paid for his one night stands more often than not, though it gave him no pride whatsoever.

He kept in contact with Mina and Sean, who had just graduated high school and had planned on coming to New York over the summer to see him, but he was a top pick by the Reds and spent the summer training. Kurt refused to tell Mina that he had hit rock bottom.

Kurt found his apartment and sat down on the steps, inhaling his cigarette and scratching fitfully at his neck. It had been three days since his last fix and he was ansy.

A quick text to a friend fixed that and he walked over to the alleyway by his apartment to make the transaction- a quick blowjob behind a brick column in exchange for a single syringe. Kurt watched the man walk away and he turned back to his steps, the syringe in his hand. He studied it closely, noting exactly how much was inside. The whole thing would kill him...a few measly minutes and he would be out of the hell he was in. His mind was a haze of want and desperation.

Kurt just didn't care anymore. Everything he had that was great- his music, his pride, his love...it was gone...why keep going?

The needle pierced his skin and he shoved the plunger down, sending his mind into a deeper haze. It took a moment, but then he felt it- pain. An ungodly amount of pain shot through his body and he cried out, hitting his knees on the dirty New York City sidewalk. People had gathered around him and were calling for an ambulance. The sound of sirens- police sirens by the blurred sound of them- reached him.

"Medic, over here!" he heard a voice call out. What a beautiful voice, he thought as he collapsed into the officer's arms.

Kurt woke hours later, surrounded by machines and with a sore throat. He coughed, but it only made it worse.

"Hello, Mr. Hummel," a nurse smiled at him as she adjusted his IV. "Glad you decided to join us. We lost you for a minute."

Kurt groaned and closed his eyes, feeling the dread wash over him again. He had really done it that time- attempted suicide. This time, he really felt he had nothing to live for.

"The police want to speak with you when you feel ready."

"Sure..." Kurt responded, his voice raspy and deep. "Go ahead."

The nurse gave him a sad look, then nodded and left the room.

"Kurt Hummel?" An officer called from the door a moment later. "I'm Officer Jenner and this is my fellow officer, Officer Dayton. We'd like to talk to you about what happened."

"I tried to OD on heroine and fucking sucked at it," Kurt simply stated, not feeling in the mood to recount the details.

"We usually bring in the officer who worked the call, but he was sent back to the precinct. You shook him up pretty bad. He did, however, convince the others not to charge you with posession."

Kurt turned and looked at the officer, his eyebrow cocked. "And why would he do that?"

"I wouldn't know," the officer shrugged. "Anyway, we have set you up with a NA group and a personal therapist. You'll meet with both once a week."

"Joy," Kurt said deadpanned.

"We'll let you rest, Mr. Hummel," the officer nodded curtly and turned to leave, but stopped at the door briefly.

"Do you know anyone named Josh Wilder?"

"Never heard of him. Why?"

"He's the officer that saved your ass. Have a nice day," he left, leaving Kurt feeling groggy, confused, and still miserable.

Officer Josh Wilder sat as his desk at the NYPD, twisting his badge nervously in his hands. Officer Jenner should have been back by now. Josh knew it was him from the moment he saw him over three weeks ago. He now held the documented proof that it was him- the man he'd been looking for for over four years now. He joined the force three years before and had progressed quickly. His need to help people kept him determined and aided in catching some pretty rough criminals.

Officer Jenner walked into the office, tapping on the door frame and shaking Josh from his thoughts.

"He's gonna make it. They pumped his stomach and he's awake. Not a happy guy, is he?"

"I wouldn't know," Josh said, glancing down at his picture on the file. "I haven't spoken to him in a long time."

"Well, he should be out tomorrow. I'm sure a visit from an old friend would help him out."

Josh watched his fellow officer walk out then sat down at his desk, slipping the photo off the file and looking at it closer. He had totally changed, but that beautiful face was definitely his.

"Please...promise you haven't let go yet."

Kurt stepped into his empty apartment the next afternoon, the white hospital band feeling like it was burning his wrist. He shut the door and went to the junk drawer, pulling out the scissors, and cutting it off. Not bothering to put the scissors back, he walked over to his couch and lit a cigarette and rested his head back against the couch. Numb was more of how he had felt that day. He swore if he could just go through life that way then everything would be fine, but he knew it didn't work that way.

A knock at the door caused him to sigh deeply, smoke falling from his lips, and stand up to get it. The door opened to a police officer- a beautiful police officer- standing with his cap in his hand.

"Can I help you?" Kurt asked, perking up only slightly. The man was openly staring at him, mouth slightly agape and eyes full of shock.

"What?" Kurt asked, looking around and lifting his cigarette to his lips.

"N-nothing. Can I come in?" the man asked.

"Yeah, sure," Kurt let him in and closed the door. The man gazed around the apartment a little before turning to Kurt and meeting his eyes. Kurt was captured by the golden blaze in them. Where had he seen those eyes.

"I'm Officer Wilder. I worked your call yesterday."

Kurt nodded. "Yeah...I mean, I don't remember, but...thanks, I guess."

Officer Wilder ran his fingers through his curly black hair. It fell just below his ears and right at his sculpted triangular eyebrows. "Do you mind if we sit?" he sounded nervous.

"Sure," Kurt responded. The officer was beginning to unsettle him a little- everything and nothing was familiar about him. They sat on the sofa and the officer turned to him.

"Kurt...I've been looking for you for a long time...years," Officer Wilder swallowed. Was he about to cry? "I looked all over Ohio, then your Facebook said you were here in New York...I never thought I'd find you."

He was crying. Kurt shifted in his seat.

"And...why were you looking for me?"

"I want you to look at me, Kurt...really look at me...do you recognize me at all?"

Kurt suddenly wanted the man to leave, starting to feel a little anxious. Then the man took his hand in his, making Kurt tense, but what happened next shook him to his core.

Nothing's gonna harm you
Not while I'm around
Nothing's gonna harm you, darling
Not while I'm around

That voice. Those eyes. That hair. That sad look of longing. Kurt felt like he had been punched in the stomach, the air sucked from his body as he remembered lying in his bed, facing the same eyes and hair and hearing the same voice sing that song to him.


Blaine hugged Kurt tightly, sobbing and thanking God into the nape of his neck. "I found you. Oh god, I found you and you never forget me!"

Kurt didn't know what to do, but he hugged him back, feeling years of tears and sadness leave him as he clung to Blaine's back.


Blaine covered Kurt's lips with his, cutting off his question and gripping his cheeks in his hands. The smell of sandalwood overtook Kurt's senses and he kissed back, mind racing and body reacting.

"I missed you so much," Blaine mumbled between kisses.

"God, I missed you, too," Kurt sighed back. Kurt pulled back and held Blaine's face in his hands, looking him over quickly. He now had facial hair, his boyish features sharp with slight age, but the one thing that Kurt noticed that really told him was the whitish scar wrapped around his neck- the rope burn.

"I thought you moved on-"

"He changed his mind, Kurt. He sent me back. I got my second chance."

"Blaine," Kurt smiled and pulled him in close. The feeling of Blaine's warm body and beating heart against his chest excited him to no end. Blaine kissed at his neck and up toward his ear, his breath heavy from kissing.

"Kurt...I've wanted you again since that night in the field...please say you'll have me."

Kurt leaned up. "The field...it was real?"

"I got one more night with you. I told you I wanted to show you how much I loved you..."

Kurt was dizzy from all of the new information he was getting, but it was suddenly forgotten when Blaine kissed him again, this time a bit more gently.

"Please, Kurt...take me."

Kurt groaned deep in his chest and pulled Blaine up off the couch toward the bedroom, both stumbling a little as they tried to get each other's clothes off. Blaine's uniform was trailing from the living room and Kurt's shirt ended up on the doorknob, but when they hit the bed in nothing but underwear, it was irrelevant. Kurt pressed close to Blaine, hearing the beautiful sounds that escaped his throat when he slotted his hips with his.

"Kurt, please," Blaine gasped.

Kurt reached into his nightstand for the lube and slipped a finger inside Blaine after coating them. Blaine hissed and God, he was tight.

"You ok?" Kurt threaded his fingers through Blaine's hair.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I've just...ungh, never done this."

Kurt swore his heart stopped. "You...waited for me?"

Blaine nodded. "Yeah..."

Kurt couldn't help the swimming in his eyes. This man- the man he loved as a boy- waited for him until he found him...and Kurt had sold himself for drugs. He began to pull out of Blaine, but Blaine stopped him.

"Kurt, I know what you've done," he wiped away a tear with his thumb. "It doesn't bother me. I have you now."

Kurt kissed Blaine's palm. "You'll have me forever."

Kurt continued to slowly prepare Blaine, wanting to make this as good as he could for him. By the time Blaine was begging for him, they were both sweating and overwhelmed with emotion. Kurt pushed in and slid an arm under Blaine's back, holding him close as he rocked in and out. It was perfect, just like the field. Two lovers together in a world of their own of nothing but each other. As they both came down from their orgasms minutes later, Kurt looked up at Blaine, a sweet smile in his eyes.

"I love you, Kurt Hummel."

Kurt kissed Blaine's chest- right over the rapid heartbeat that hammered against it. "I love you, too, Blaine Anderson."

Later, Kurt would find out that an angel appeared to the family of Joshua Wilder and told them God was sending Blaine to them. Josh was in a vegetative state and would die shortly. The family agreed and welcomed Blaine as their son. He would learn that Blaine never sought out his mother, brother, or father, but hoped that with Kurt's help, he could help them understand that he was back. He would learn that Blaine had done courageous things, like ended a string of rapes in the city single-handedly and saved seven children from a burning building and talked a man down from the Brooklyn Bridge, saving his life as he had saved Kurt's, but at the moment, they were there, together, two lovers seperated by death come together again. Nothing else in the world at that moment mattered.