I almost didn't upload tonight, not because I wasn't happy with the chapter, but because this is it. THE FINAL CHAPTER OF T&C. I can't believe it...

I uploaded the first chapter on 26th June 2012, and by this time a year ago I was about to upload Smile, otherwise known as chapter 18. We've seen a New Directions reunion, we've seen second place at Nationals, we've seen a failed marriage proposal. And we have seen a lot of Tears and Cookies.

I have fallen in love with Blaine's Warblers, and only wish I had introduced them better to begin with; I feel like I have far more of an idea of who they are than you (and, plot twist, Bill and Ben's real names were never Bill and Ben, but I just didn't get round to writing that scene). Maybe I'll write that in a spin off drabble, or perhaps it might feature in the sequel...

Yes, T&C will certainly have a sequel. It'd be too much to say goodbye to these characters completely. Smiles & Biscuits will happen at some point (though I might have a shorter fic inbetween the two, filling in all the gaps). Also, some of the characters may be making an appearance in another of my stories, which I have been planning for almost a year now, I think. A long time!

Writing T&C has changed my life. It's because of this fic that I met the ff community and in an early review I met someone who has gone on to be one of my very best friends. Since then I have met so many amazing people, and people who I hope I'll be in contact with forever. And I just can't believe this section of the road is coming to an end.

As for S&B, if you want an alert on when that is happening, stay subscribed to this fic, and I'll post another chapter to tell you when it's happening. Otherwise, you could subscribe to my blog, and receive updates on all my writing (which would include the reappearance of my favourite T&C characters).

I never believed that T&C would take me on such a journey. Jees, is this really it? My final T&C A/N? Don't mind me, I'm just getting all clingy here. Let's just hit upload, before I start crying.

This chapter is dedicated to all of you who have believed in me.

Story so far...

After Gaga and Mercedes' visit, Blaine goes back to work and helps the Warblers say goodbye to Robert. Kurt has trouble at work because he's working on an outfit for Gaga to wear to an interview with Ellen and his designs get turned down by head office. Both men are exhausted, and then Blaine got the call from Mrs Dent to tell him that Robert had died...

-*T&C*-

Everyone stood around in black, each Warbler with some form of purple: Anthony wore a purple belt, Bill and Ben a purple sock each revealed under shortened trousers, Wayne a purple bandana and beside him Chloe in a purple dress and black bow in her blonde hair (they'd left Sarah with a childminder). They stood outside Dalton's main building, along with a few other kids who had wanted to show their respect and come along, Kurt in a purple suit, Mercedes in a black dress with a purple trim, Greg in black, Gina in a dark purple dress, and of course Blaine, standing nervously apart from everyone else, tugging at the cuffs of his black blazer and loosening the collar of his black shirt.

It was now over a week since his death - there had been some complications with booking the funeral - but there were still tears in eyes and a heavy feeling in the air. There was an uneasy buzz of talk as they all waited for the cars to take them to the crematorium. The boys mixed with some of the other people who had turned up, wanting to know how they'd known Robert. Greg, Gina and Mercedes huddled around Kurt, trying to talk to him, to get him to open up, but his focus was solely on Blaine, who was now pacing, eyes focused on his feet and he walked in circles. Kurt was worried about him, to say the least.

When Blaine had walked in the door that Wednesday, Kurt had known. He had seen the slump in his shoulders, the redness in his eyes, the smile that couldn't make it to his face. He remembered standing slowly and pulling him into a long hug in the doorway to the living room, feeling the rocking of Blaine's body as he cried silently. They said nothing for about ten minutes, and nothing interrupted their bubble of quiet, of reflection. But then eventually Blaine had pulled away, offered Kurt the wateriest of smiles, then motioned that he was going to lie down. When Kurt had gone into their bedroom twenty minutes later to ask if he wanted a glass of water or maybe something stronger, he was already asleep, one shoe still on and shirt open but not fully off, tie loosened around his neck. Like he just hadn't been able to manage anything more before his exhaustion had beaten him.

Watching him now, Kurt's heart ached. His boyfriend had barely spoken since then, aside from the occasional "thank you" or "yes, a coffee would be fantastic". And whilst it may seem that Blaine was closing off from him, that wasn't the case at all; he simply couldn't find the words to speak. If anything, he'd become even more physically close, snuggling if they were watching the television, as they ate dinner, when they lay in bed together before falling asleep. Blaine couldn't get enough of contact, of nudging his nose under Kurt's chin to inhale his scent, of kissing his collarbone. But he couldn't speak. He knew that if he spoke to Kurt about how he was feeling, how much he was hurting, everything would close around him.

As Kurt watched, Blaine looked up, eyes immediately meeting those that he loved so much. Kurt smiled at him gently and spoke to him with his eyes: please come over here, let me look after you, I just want to know you're okay. Blaine paused for only a second before he was crossing the tarmac and sliding his arms around Kurt's waist, letting himself be held.

"Are you okay?" Kurt murmured, keeping his voice soft as he tuned out of Mercedes' quiet conversation to Greg about what it was like to be recording music every day.

"I will be," Blaine responded, equally as quiet. "I need to be strong for the boys, be brave for them. I need them to know they can come to me." He pressed a soft kiss to Kurt's cheek. "I'll be back in a bit."

Before Kurt could protest, his boyfriend had moved off again, but this time to the huddle of boys stood together by the entrance to the school. Kurt recognised them as Amos, with a purple tie, Tyler, with purple shoes, and Luke, with purple braces. As Blaine approached, Jesse joined them, his purple scarf hanging around his neck. As much as Kurt wanted to take him back, to shake him, to tell him he didn't have to pretend that he was fine, he knew that this was how Blaine was coping: helping others. If he took him away now, he surely would break. So he turned away and tried to start a conversation with Gina, only for all topics of conversation to dry up.

"Peter?"

The boy jumped, having not expected anyone to try to break into his bubble. He frantically wiped his eyes so nobody could see his tears, drying his hands on his purple shirt. "Yeah?"

Paul sat beside him on the steps, away from the bulk of people but not too far away for them to be separate. He faced forwards, giving Peter the space he wanted, whilst sitting close enough to give him the attention he did not know he needed. "We're here for you, mate." He let the air take his words, licking his lips and looking around, at everywhere but at Peter.

Peter breathed slowly. He could have told Paul to "get the fuck away from me", and perhaps he would have done had it not been for spending time with Robert in his final week. Robert was kind, always looking out for others. It had been an unusual friendship in its early days, the calm maturity of Robert against Peter's harsh temper and unforgiving nature. And whilst Peter could have corrupted Robert, he hadn't. Instead, it was Robert who had had the positive influence on his friend. Peter still remembered that day they'd gone to the library to find books for a project. He had wanted to pick up some random stuff and leave. But Robert had hovered by the poetry section, fingers dancing over thin spines in different, bright colours. When Peter had rudely asked him what he was doing, Robert had pulled out an Auden and demanded that he sit and listen to just one poem, one bit of culture. Begrudgingly, Peter had done just so, but at the end of Funeral Blues, when Robert's eyes were turning misty, Peter had stood, taken the book from his hands and added it to their pile to take out. And whilst Robert hadn't stopped Peter from tearing the page out and pinning it to his wall when he got home, he had convinced him to buy the library a new copy. And such was their friendship. Remembering Robert, Peter couldn't bring himself to snipe at the boy - the friend - sitting on the step beside him wearing a purple bowtie (one that Blaine must have envied). Instead, he said, "Thank you," and left it at that.

The cars arrived and everyone climbed inside. There was a quietness which, at some point, had turned from mournful to peaceful. Tears had stopped and it was time for reflection. It was a time for the stories to be remembered, the laughter to be replayed, for each of the Warblers to remember a time when they'd had his steady hand on their back, guiding them to do what they needed to do, but was always afraid of before. He'd been their greatest supporter, their most truthful friend. They recalled his voice in group numbers, or his drumming at Nationals. But mostly they just remembered, letting the grieving process happen, not making themselves cry in the knowledge that he was gone, not trying to put everything out of their minds. Just remember.

"How are they?"

Blaine buckled himself in beside his boyfriend as he answered Greg's question. They'd taken the last car, him wanting to make sure all the boys had set off safely beforehand. "Actually quite good," he replied. "Robert, he wouldn't've wanted all the sad faces. It made him so uncomfortable to watch them upset, especially for the sake of him. I think they're just remembering that now."

Kurt's hand found Blaine's and pulled it onto his lap. "And you?"

"I am lucky I got to know him as well as I did." He gazed out of the window and let the scenery pass as the car pulled out of the Dalton gates. "He was a great teacher. He told us that nothing lasts, and that you have to make the most out of every moment. You can't wait for life to happen around you. If an opportunity arises, he said, grab it, let it take you along for the ride." He sighed. "I hope the boys took in at least half of his lessons."

Kurt remained quiet, but he couldn't help feeling that Robert's lessons weren't meant just for his peers.

The building was beautiful. Ivy clung to the walls like green tentacles, framing the door and curtaining the windows. The red brick stood as proud as the walls at Dalton, and it seemed too romanticised to say that they glittered, but they did. The roof was tall and a pair of pigeons snuggled together on it. Beside the building, a bed of flowers stretched across one side, with shots of red and yellow smiling in the sunlight, reassuring everyone that "things are going to be just fine". A bench by the entrance was scratched with names of people lost.

Around the crematorium, grassy banks stretched. Further benches sat under the shade of trees, and it was impossible to tell if the flowers which poked through the grass had been planted there or if the seeds had blown in from elsewhere, only landing perfectly; a contrast of reds against green. Gravestones sat at uneven intervals, not marking out a burial, but in memory of someone. The names were underlined with sweet quotes or phrases, sometimes anecdotes from the person's lifetime. Dates rarely appeared; it was the memory which mattered, not the whens and hows.

The whole place was cheerful, not melancholy. To those visiting it for the first time, it was calming, relaxing. To those who were returning to sit under the trees and remember, it would have been a perfect spot. A place to come to to say goodbye, whilst remembering that memory was the only way we could continue. It was a place which held its own strength, offering some to those who needed it, but helping people see that they were strong enough, that they could do this by themselves, that time would heal all wounds left to close and memories would be enough to help you smile again, to remember fondly and to cherish.

Today, even the birds kept a respectful quiet. There were no squirrels chasing each other across the lawn, no cats rustling leaves on bushes. Just peace. The world was here, and resting, and waiting in silence.

Inside the crematorium, there was a similar level of quiet. Daniel's purple pocket handkerchief matched his boyfriend's floral buttonhole. They sat on a row with Jack, who had removed his purple trilby when he'd walked through the door. Other Warblers and other friends of Robert's took up a large number of the seats.

Blaine sat next to the aisle a few rows from the back, Kurt beside him, and Mercedes on the other side of Kurt. Blaine had wanted to sit with a view of all the boys, needing to know if they were okay. From where he was now, with Kurt's hand in his, he saw Peter, eyes downcast into his lap, sitting on the front row, leaving space for Mrs Dent and Mr and Mrs Inworth, separately.

Mercedes turned her head to watch who she presumed was Robert's dad and stepmom walk in. She was glad she had come; Blaine was growing calmer as the day progressed, but Kurt was still on edge. She hoped they'd be okay later, after she took her flight back to LA; she wouldn't have long to get back to the airport, but she'd happily miss it if she knew she was still needed here. Robert's mom walked in then, head low, and she walked blind to her seat. Peter stood to help her, and she took his hand as she sat down. Though Mercedes didn't know a lot about Mrs Dent, she knew that nobody should go through this alone. She watched as Mr Inworth stood again and walked over to her, offering her a handkerchief. She raised her head to look at him, almost challengingly, like this was a test. But it seemed there was a truce. She took it with a quiet "Thank you", and Mr Inworth returned to the seat next to his wife.

He swallowed. His legs felt weak and he wanted to be anywhere but here. He wanted to go home, to hide his head under his covers, to come back when he was ready. He gripped his small piece of folded paper as his eyes drifted to the back of the room, where his glee director sat. He could do this.

"Robert was the greatest person I know." Now that his first words were out, it seemed easy to continue. "I remember our first day of kindergarten. I didn't like it, and wanted my mom to come back and pick me up. I thought I could start again another day. But she'd told me she wasn't going to return, that I'd have to be brave by myself. So I had started playing up. I'd already broken some kid's doll, and I saw Robert with his tongue stuck out, a coloured pencil making bold marks on a piece of paper. I went over, took the pencil from his hand and snapped it."

Peter closed his eyes. He was never this open. He was Peter Matthews, the boy who needed nobody. He opened his eyes again. No, he was Peter Matthews, best friend of Robert Inworth-Dent.

"I got told off and was made to sit by myself in the corner of the room whilst everyone else ate lunch. To make matters worse, I had forgotten mine. So I was sat in the corner, angry and tired and hungry. And then somebody sat down beside me, and when I looked up, I saw it was Robert. He offered me his juice box. I thought he had forgotten what I had done to him. He hadn't, it turned out. He'd just forgiven me. He could see, however much I didn't want to admit it, that I was missing my mom. And he just sat with me and talked. At the end of the day, when I was picked up, I suddenly knew that kindergarten wasn't going to be such a bad place, and I figured I'd give it another go the next day."

He looked at the piece of paper he had in his hands and unfolded it, swallowing deeply to keep his tears down.

"I want to read something. I'm expecting taunts at the link to a certain romantic comedy-" He cut himself off. No, nobody would taunt him; this was too personal. He started again. "It was Robert who got me interested in poetry, and through that song, and him who suggested we joined the Warblers. This was the first poem he ever read to me. I know he loved it. I want to read it today, in his memory.

"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone.
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

"Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead,
Put crépe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

"He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song,
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

"The stars are not wanted now, put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good."

Mercedes hooked her arms into Kurt's. "Okay, Boo?"

Kurt nodded slowly at her. "Yeah. Yes, I think I am." He turned his head to smile shortly at her, his face not quite ready for a proper grin. They were now outside, and they watched as Blaine offered hugs to the boys who needed it. "How about you? I saw you reach for a tissue as Peter spoke."

She sighed. "It was emotional," she shrugged. "But so brave."

"Very brave," Kurt agreed. He squeezed her hand.

"Mark?"

Mark looked up in surprise as he saw his brother walking towards him. Simon wore his purple in the form of string bracelets around his wrist, and Mark was just afraid that he would start a scene. "Yeah?"

"I..." Simon cut off, a short, sharp laugh escaping his throat. He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, like he'd decided against saying whatever it was that he'd been planning on saying. "I like your shoelaces," he finally offered. "Nice touch."

Mark looked down at his feet. "Thanks?" By the time he looked back up, Simon had walked away.

"You okay, Mark?"

Mark frowned at Blaine. "I don't know. Simon, he just..."

"Did he say anything?" Blaine was concerned now.

"No," Mark said. "Only that he liked my shoelaces."

Blaine regarded the back of Simon as he retreated to talk to Peter. Maybe he'd been trying to make a truce. It seemed to be a theme today. "You miss him?" Blaine asked, instead of choosing one of the other questions that was flying around him head.

"He's my brother," Mark shrugged. "Yeah, sure, he's horrible to me. And I can't remember what it was like. Before. But he's my brother."

At that point, Chris walked up, he had a hand on one of his hips, which held his black jacket open and revealed his purple waistcoat. "I love your purple shoelaces, Mark."

Blaine couldn't stop himself from smiling. He could always count on his boys to help each other. He stepped back slowly, and let them talk. He spotted Kurt with Mercedes sitting on one of the benches under the trees, and walked up to them. As Kurt saw him coming, his eyes softened, and Blaine's heart leapt. He'd never get tired of how Kurt looked at him.

"They all okay, honey?" Kurt asked when Blaine was close enough.

"They're all okay," Blaine responded, sitting down next to Kurt and pecking his cheek. He turned then to Mercedes. "Thank you so much for coming up, Ced. I am so glad Kurt had you today."

Mercedes shook her head. "You start thanking me, Blaine Warbler, and I'm gonna start to blub on ya. It's been a pleasure. And I'm only too happy to help."

Blaine reached behind Kurt on the bench and she understood, lifting her hand into his. "Still. Thanks."

Kurt frowned as his pocket rang. "I am so sorry. I thought I turned that off."

Blaine retracted his hand from Mercedes' and placed it instead upon Kurt's thigh, squeezing lightly. "I doesn't matter. At least it happened now rather than inside."

"I'll just turn it off..." Kurt fished inside his pocket.

Blaine shook his head. "No, don't. Answer it."

Kurt looked at the screen of his phone. "It's an unknown number."

"Answer it," Blaine repeated. He dropped his hand off Kurt's thigh as his boyfriend stood up to accept the call.

"Hello?"

"Hello. Is that Mr Hummel?"

"It is," Kurt said with a frown. "Can I ask who you are?"

"I'm Rachel Franklin. I work at Vogue dot com. We saw your outfit on Ellen and we wanted to know if you'd do an interview with us? We want to publish your story."

Thank you for the best ride of my life. So far :) I love you all.

-* Don't forget to check out luspeak. wordpress. com for updates, deleted chapters and spin-offs! *-

Come on, I want to finish with one last one of these: tell me...

a) your favourite chapter

b) your favourite of Blaine's Warblers

c) your favourite of my OCs

d) a canon character you want to see more of in S&B

e) sparkly dinosaurs