..

You Must Remember This

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"Well?"

Eleanor stared at the ground with her arms crossed, flanked by Robbie and Tyler, all three of them frowning at the hole Andy had dragged them over to see. Andy was watching them expectantly, like he was waiting for some kind of outrage. Frankly, Eleanor wouldn't put it past Andy to just be pissed that someone had ruined his lawn.

"What is it?" Tyler asked, clutching Raleigh in one hand while hugging close to Eleanor's side.

"It's… a hole," Eleanor said dryly, wrinkling her nose at Andy.

"Is this supposed to be scary?" asked Robbie.

Andy suddenly looked like he was ready to strangle all three of them. "It came out of nowhere," he insisted, as though he was the only one who understood why a hole in the dirt was anything worth fussing over.

"Don't talk to us like we're stupid," Eleanor snapped.

"The ground was moving, Eleanor!" Andy cried, gesturing frustratedly at the hole. "It ripped apart and now this thing is ten feet long!"

Eleanor shrugged pointedly, although the back of her neck was prickling. "Earthquakes happen."

"Not here."

"Did someone dig it?" suggested Tyler, tucking Raleigh into the crook of his arm.

"Unless one of you is messing with me, no."

Eleanor had to smirk at that. "That could very well be the case," she said savagely.

Andy glared.

"Shut up, El," Robbie said, though it seemed almost like an afterthought rather than an order. He was still frowning at the hole.

Eleanor rolled her eyes. "Okay, so it's a hole. What are you going to do about it?"

Andy's brows pulled together as he glowered at her. "This doesn't worry you at all, does it?"

"I'm more in the enjoying-the-fact-that-you're-worried stage."

Andy shook his head, flapping at hand dismissively at her. "You know what, forget it."

"I'm just saying," Eleanor continued. "If you want to keep us all under your thumb like Kim Jong Il, then don't expect us to jump up and help you out."

"Hey, everything I've done for us over the last ten years has been necessary, okay?" Andy argued, drawing himself up to his full height. "So don't come after me with that crap. Keeping you here isn't comparable to genocide."

"Says the dictator."

Robbie finally interjected then, spitting, "Would you both just shut the fuck up? Jesus." He paused to study the hole for another couple of seconds, then shrugged. "As far as I can see, this isn't something to freak out over. So until it is, I say we leave it alone."

Andy huffed, shaking his head. "Have it your way."

"Whatever, Adolf," Eleanor sneered. She raised her arm in a mock Nazi salute. "Heil!"

Without waiting for Andy to retort, Eleanor turned on her heel and began to stride back towards the playground. Tyler trotted after her, and Robbie hesitantly followed them both.

As soon as Andy was out of earshot, Eleanor turned to Robbie. "So what do you think?"

Robbie raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

She slapped his shoulder with the back of her hand, her eyes flaring. "Quit fucking around."

"Eleanor, I already said what I thought," Robbie snapped with a roll of his eyes. "Weren't you listening? Or were you more focused on poking Andy's buttons?"

"I can multi-task," she spat. "You can't seriously think that that was nothing."

Robbie finally stopped walking, halting in his tracks suddenly enough to make Tyler bump into him. "For fuck's sake! It's a goddamn hole in the ground! What the fuck do you expect me to do about it?! What do you expect to do about it?!"

Tyler flinched at the abrupt increase in volume, quickly stepping away from Robbie in order to cling to Eleanor's arm. He squeezed Raleigh to his chest, staring at the muddy ground.

Eleanor curled her lip, squaring her shoulders. "You want to stick your head in the sand and pretend like nothing's changing around here? Fine," she seethed. "Just remember – the last time you did that, Craig got burned alive."

Robbie's jaw twitched. "Truman isn't here anymore."

"Neither was Kurt, but that didn't stop him."

"Truman's not coming back," Robbie insisted.

Eleanor swallowed, and for a moment the anger in her eyes subsided, replaced by sheer terror. "Keep telling yourself that," she said.

Robbie had no response, and so Eleanor only wrapped an arm around Tyler's shoulders walked away, leaving Robbie standing where he was. Eleanor and Tyler stepped back onto the gravel of the playground as a warm breeze blew past. The banks of snow had nearly all vanished now, leaving large puddles scattered around the playground and water dripping from the merry-go-round and the swing set.

And hovering over the playground, penetrating the air like an oncoming thunderstorm, was the unmistakable stench of smoke.

Kurt's morning was spent alone in his apartment, lazily preparing breakfast and completing a few minor household chores that had been left by the wayside over the last several days. Part of him took pleasure in having some time to himself and handling small responsibilities at his own pace, but at the same time he wanted to avoid seeing his family. Well… just Finn, really. Their argument from yesterday still hung heavily on Kurt's shoulders, and while he could understand why Finn had blown up at him, he wasn't sure Finn was ready to see him again. And for that matter, he wasn't sure he wanted to see Finn, either.

So instead, he relaxed. Having cleaned the kitchen and put a fresh load of laundry in the washer, Kurt carried a bowl of granola and yogurt to the living room couch. He plopped down and grabbed his laptop from where it sat on the coffee table. Propping his feet up, he settled back to idly surf the internet while he ate.

For a little while, he just read a few news articles (the upcoming year's presidential debate seemed to be the main topic occupying everyone's minds) but after a time, an idea suddenly occurred to him. He sat up straighter, setting his bowl back on the coffee table, and pulled up the homepage for Google.

Andy Hummel, he typed.

Nothing really came up in the search – a few mentions of other people around the world that happened to have the name, but nothing relating to Lima or Kurt himself.

Kurt frowned, then put in a new search. Kurt Hummel.

Immediately, dozens of articles came up. Film critic sites, a LinkedIn profile, and newspaper links to at least five different papers. The Columbus Dispatch, the Chicago Times, the Cincinnati Sun, and even one for the New York Times. Andy had been working under Kurt's name.

Kurt supposed that was considerate.

There was page after page after page of reviews and critiques for movies, stage productions, and even music on occasion. Most of it was only vaguely familiar at best. He snatched his glasses from the coffee table and read through a few of the articles, hoping that at least one of them would jog his memory. Almost immediately, his palms began to itch and he felt nausea grip his stomach.

He managed to get through reviews on three movies he didn't recognize and an album by a band he'd never heard of, but when he reached a column published on the subject of a Chicago-based revival of Wicked, Kurt had to stop. He felt dizzy. The writing was good and in any other circumstance, he would have thought the reviews genuinely entertaining. But as it was, given that he had written them and couldn't remember doing so, he only found them unnerving at best.

Instead, he shut off his computer and resigned to bitterly finish his breakfast without any reading material whatsoever.

Just as he swallowed the last of his food and went to go rinse the bowl in the kitchen, his phone dinged cheerfully in his pocket. A text had come in, again from the unknown Mitchell Seville.

Hey, you up for coffee? was all it said.

Kurt huffed in annoyance. Why couldn't these people leave him alone? He shoved his phone back into his pocket, irritatedly dropping his bowl into the sink and running the tap to rinse it out. Why was it so difficult to just have some time to himself without being reminded every few minutes of how much he'd lost?

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to soothe his nerves, he shut off the faucet and braced his arms against the counter.

It was too quiet in this apartment.

Kurt straightened up, rubbing a hand over his face and combing his fingers through his hair. The back of his neck prickled. Why did he feel like Andy was still controlling him?

Kurt let out another breath, then grabbed his keys and wallet from the counter and his coat from the hook in the hall. Maybe getting out of an environment that felt like it belonged more to Andy than it did to him would lessen the dizzying sensation of being manipulated.

As Kurt let his door slam shut behind him and descended the stairs in the hall, he was greeted by a woman who was unlocking the door to the first floor apartment.

"Hey, Andy!" she said. "How goes it?"

Kurt choked, almost tripping on the last step down. "U-Uh, fine," he managed to get out before brushing past her and quickly exiting the front door. He ignored the strange look she gave him as he went by, walking a little faster than was probably necessary to the curb where his car was parked.

Driving away from his building, Kurt felt his muscles unclench and his nerves cool, slowly replaced by a cold and hollow anger. This was ridiculous. There was no real reason he shouldn't feel at home in his own damn apartment. There was no reason why he shouldn't feel at home in his own damn life.

With a start he realized that he'd forgotten to take his antidepressant that morning, and he grew even more frustrated with himself. He wasn't willing to backtrack for a little pill, however, so he continued aimlessly driving. At the very least, he might be able to get a couple of errands done – grocery shopping and the like. Focusing on menial tasks might force his pent-up energy somewhere productive.

He made a left at the next stoplight and headed towards the center of town. Maybe he could grab a latte before stopping by the supermarket. He definitely deserved some caffeine. His frustration bubbled up again a few minutes later when he realized that the Lima Bean had either closed or moved locations and it was now a Five Guys burger joint. He pulled a U-turn and drove toward the town square, where he was fairly sure he'd seen a new café on the corner. He wished that all of his old familiar haunts were back in their rightful places.

He spotted the new café – Java Joe's – on the corner of West Market Street and South Main, parking his car at the curb across the road and dumping a few quarters into the meter. The frigid air filled his lungs and made him feel abruptly cleansed. Perhaps all he'd really needed was a walk and a breath of fresh air?

Still, caffeine wouldn't hurt.

Kurt hunched his shoulders against the cold, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets as he crossed the icy sidewalk. The town square was unusually crowded today, the blocks full of people taking advantage of the weekend and the sunny weather to shop and hang out downtown, and Kurt had to wait for a small group of teenagers to pass before he could shoulder through the door to Java Joe's. The bell tinkled shrilly overhead as he entered.

Inside, the café was busy and loud, almost all of the tables occupied. Kurt stood in the back of the line, idly people-watching as the queue gradually inched forward. He felt comfortable here despite the bustle and the noise, and he wondered if Andy routinely came here to work whenever he tired of the apartment. The café certainly felt familiar enough, and the constant din was calming – a much-needed contrast from the silence of his apartment.

Two women sitting near the window abruptly burst into laughter, amused by something in their private conversation enough to make Kurt turn his head. He glanced in their direction for just long enough to see the young man at the adjacent table look up and smile at him. Kurt smiled politely back, and then returned his attention to the menu above the counter.

He was in the middle of choosing between a peppermint or mocha latte when someone spoke behind him.

"Hey, you! You got here quick."

Kurt turned around again, realizing two things in the span of about half a second. One, that the man who had smiled at Kurt from the window had walked over and was now talking directly to him. And two, he was leaning in for a kiss.

Kurt's reflexes kicked in, and he ducked, jerking back out of the man's immediate reach.

The man blinked, faltering. His smile vanished. "O-Oh my God, I'm so sorry," he stuttered, taking a quick step back. "I – I just thought, since we'd been out on a few dates already… I – I don't know—"

Kurt stared at him, still in shock. "…Dates," he echoed. He was rooted to the spot and unable to coherently respond – how was he supposed to respond to this anyway?

"W-Well, yeah," said the man, awkwardly scratching his forehead. "I mean, I thought things were going pretty well."

Kurt couldn't stop staring. The stranger was a bit shorter than he was, with cleanly cut dark hair and average looks. A bit of a frat boy vibe, but ultimately non-threatening, so Kurt tried to force himself to calm down. But he could feel adrenaline coursing through his chest and every nerve in his body was urging him to bolt. This man didn't look familiar in the slightest.

The stranger was still flustered and apologizing. "I just thought— Although, now that I think about it, you didn't respond to my last couple of texts…" He pressed his palm to his forehead in embarrassment. "Crap, I'm so sorry, I should've picked up on that. This is totally—"

Comprehension abruptly dawned on Kurt, and the bottom of his stomach dropped. "…You're Mitchell," he said.

Mitchell's face fell. He looked something like a scolded golden retriever. "Wow, tell me how you really feel," he said with an awkward, hurt laugh.

"Have we slept together?" Kurt blurted out, his heart racing and his neck burning hot.

Mitchell blanched, anger flitting across his face. "Is that a joke? Andy, it was your idea that we take things slow. What is wrong with you?"

Kurt felt his ears flush bright red. He was suddenly acutely aware of the several café patrons who had stopped their own conversations in favor of watching the small commotion. The two women who had been laughing earlier were now staring openly at Kurt and Mitchell.

"Can we talk about this outside?" Kurt asked desperately, the urge to run now multiplied tenfold.

"Fine," Mitchell huffed, letting his hands hang inside the pockets of his black jacket. "Sure. Whatever you want."

Kurt quickly strode towards the door, Mitchell following him out to the sidewalk. Even in the sudden January chill, Kurt's face remained mortifyingly hot. Mitchell's ears were red too, although Kurt couldn't tell whether it was from anger or just humiliation.

"I – I can explain," Kurt started, drawing in a deep breath.

Mitchell clamped his jaw shut, folding his arms across his chest. "This ought to be good."

"It's just – it's complicated," Kurt tried. He was floundering, he knew – frantically scrambling to formulate an explanation that wouldn't sound made up. On the one hand, Kurt had a very good excuse for not recognizing this person, and on the other hand, that excuse would sound absolutely nonsensical to anybody who hadn't known him long enough. "I, um… I'm sick, and—"

Mitchell cut him off with a shake of his head and a flap of his hand. "Okay, you know what?" he said disgustedly. "There are easier and classier ways to do this. If you want to call it quits, just say so, but this 'amnesia' crap you're trying to pull is bullshit."

Kurt pressed his lips together, utterly at a loss. Whatever he tried to say was going to sound like a cheap lie. Guilt seized him by the throat, and he wanted so badly to explain everything and make Mitchell understand. Although, he wasn't sure why he wanted that since Mitchell was after all still a stranger to him… But Mitchell seemed like a genuinely good person, and Kurt found himself wanting to backtrack and somehow make it so that Mitchell wasn't so upset.

Mitchell was watching him expectantly, waiting for Kurt to say something.

But Kurt had only drawn a blank.

Mitchell shook his head, still looking more disgusted than anything else. "Yeah, whatever, man," he said, turning to go back inside.

"Wait—" Kurt started.

Mitchell stopped, his jaw rigid. He was reluctant to make eye contact. "What?"

"I just…" Kurt struggled to get the words out, pulling his fingers self-consciously through his hair. "I really am sick," he said.

Mitchell's mouth tightened. "Yeah, I'll say."

With that last cutting remark, Mitchell turned on his heel and strode back into the café, the door swinging shut behind him with an inconsiderately cheerful tinkling of the overhead bell.

One of Finn's favorite things about being on vacation from work was spending time with his family – and yes, that might have been clichéd, but it was true. Mainly, what Finn loved about it was being able to spend time with Hannah and Dylan when they weren't stuck to any sort of schedule. During the school year, their free time was mostly dictated by Hannah's classes, Finn's student appointments and meetings, and Dylan's daycare, and all of this domesticity was almost to the point of boredom. So, the school breaks made for a more than welcome change of pace.

At this particular moment, it was really, really nice giving Dylan a bath right after lunchtime rather than just before bed, when Finn and Hannah would both be so exhausted from work that they could barely keep their eyes open.

Finn knelt on the bathmat next to the tub, shampooing Dylan's hair while Dylan played with a plastic toy boat, making engine sounds and sailing it back and forth in the bathwater. He yelped when a fleck of shampoo ran into his eye.

"Oops, sorry, bud," Finn said, running a damp washcloth over Dylan's face.

The bathroom door opened and Hannah came in, sitting on the closed toilet by Finn's elbow. She squeezed his shoulder as she sat down, greeting Dylan with a sunny "How's the bath going, Dyl?"

Dylan rubbed at his eye with a soapy hand. "Got shampoo'n my eye," he said.

Finn gently pushed Dylan's fist down. "Hey, don't rub at it. That'll make it worse." He began to rinse out Dylan's hair, speaking to Hannah over his shoulder. "What's up?"

"Have you heard from Kurt?" she asked.

Finn shook his head, keeping his attention focused on his son.

Hannah didn't say anything for several seconds, but Finn could feel her watching him. He suddenly wanted her to leave.

"Burt hasn't heard from him all day either," she said at last. "He's starting to get worried."

"It's Burt's job to worry about Kurt," Finn said, perhaps a little bit bitter. "I'm sure everything's fine."

"Finn."

"What?" Finn finally met her gaze, and wished he hadn't. She was looking at him with an expression he didn't like – somewhere in the middle of mild shock and disappointment.

Hannah's lips tightened almost imperceptibly for a moment. "Are you really going to give him the silent treatment?"

"Hannah," Finn said in annoyance, turning back to continue washing Dylan's hair. "Kurt is an adult. He can take care of himself."

"You know perfectly well that's not the issue here, Finn."

"Can we have this conversation later?"

Hannah straightened at that, her shoulders setting back. "No, we can have it now. The only one making it difficult is you."

Finn swallowed, his teeth clenching. "I'm not trying to make anything difficult."

Hannah softened at that, patting his shoulder again. "Babe, I know that this is a tough situation for everybody, all right? Don't think I'm not in your corner."

He sighed, pausing Dylan's bath. He reached up to wrap his hand around Hannah's fingers, squeezing slightly before giving a kiss to her knuckles. "I know. Thanks."

Hannah smiled, drying her hand on her jeans once he let go. "Finn, it's just not a good habit to let things sit. You need to talk to him as soon as you can. Smooth things over."

Finn exhaled heavily, knowing that she was right. At least, to an extent. But his stomach felt like it was filled with lead, and his shoulders were tight and it seemed like after ten years they were all back to square one. And Finn didn't know how to cope with that – or even if he could.

"Put yourself in his shoes," Hannah continued. "Can't you sympathize with how completely disoriented he must be? You know it's not his fault."

"Of course I know it's not his fault," Finn said. "He doesn't control the transitions; I get that just as much as anyone."

"I actually meant that it's not his fault if he has a hard time adjusting," Hannah corrected him, not unkindly. "He's allowed to be a human being."

Finn was quiet again for a minute.

Hannah got down to kneel on the bathmat beside him then, wrapping her arm around his upper back and resting her chin on his shoulder. "And, you know, you're allowed to be a human being too. You don't have to be infallible."

Finn swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. He released another heavy breath, feeling just a little bit lighter, and leaned his head against hers. "Thank you," he said softly.

Hannah shifted to plant a kiss on Finn's temple. "Everything's going to be okay."

As late morning gradually shifted into mid-afternoon, the winter sun swinging quickly toward the sky over western Lima, and Kurt took his time finishing the few errands he managed to come up with (mainly so he could avoid going home to his empty, quiet apartment). His stomach still in knots even several hours after the encounter with Mitchell, Kurt parked his car at the curb in front of his parents' house and made his way up the walkway to the front door. Pausing in awkward hesitation before walking inside, he decided instead to knock. Maybe it was just that he was looking for an excuse to still not spend time at his own place, but he somehow felt like he shouldn't be here.

The door swung open a few moments later. "Oh, hey, sweetie," said Carole in surprise. "You know you don't have to knock; you can just come in."

Kurt shrugged as he followed her in to the kitchen. "Feels weird," he said as he peeled off his coat and hung it next to Dylan's miniature parka on the rack.

"Well, this is as much your home as ours, so it's weirder if you knock." Carole winked at him.

Kurt had to relax a bit at her jest. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied.

"I was just making tea. You want some?"

Kurt accepted the offer, sitting on a stool at the counter as Carole filled the electric kettle.

"So what's up?" she asked conversationally. "How are you feeling?"

"Still pretty out of place," Kurt answered. "But I'm okay."

"I think that's to be expected. It'll take a little time to get used to being back."

"Yeah, I know," Kurt said, and he couldn't help sounding dejected.

"Anything else going on?" Carole probed gently.

Kurt swallowed, trying to decide in half a second whether he wanted to talk about what had happened at Java Joe's. His stomach twisted tighter. He finally settled on the notion that being nearly kissed by a total stranger (who was apparently not even supposed to be a stranger) was a little too heavy a topic to discuss over a cup of tea. Plus, he'd barely processed it himself.

"No, not really."

Carole frowned at him, seeming to pick up on his reluctance to share, but her attention was diverted by the kettle whistling on the counter. She turned around to fill two coffee mugs, then handed one to Kurt. "Well, you know we're all here for you. Anything you need."

"Thanks," Kurt said, turning the mug in his hands and letting it warm his palms. He sat up a bit straighter, changing the topic. "Where is everyone?"

Carole sipped her tea. "Finn's upstairs giving Dylan a bath. Your dad's at work, but he should actually be on his way home now," she said, glancing at the clock on the wall.

Kurt fell quiet, unable to keep his shoulders from tensing slightly.

Carole, ever attentive, didn't miss it. "You okay?" she prompted.

"Yeah…" he said softly, not quite meeting her eye.

"You having a hard time with Dylan and Hannah?"

"Among other things," Kurt admitted.

Carole leaned against the counter island across from him, propping herself on her elbows. "I know it feels strange, but they're your family, Kurt. They're on your side."

"I don't even know them," Kurt had to say. His chest ached.

"Kurt, you just have to trust me on this," Carole said. She rested her chin in the palm of her hand. "Hannah supports you just as much as we do, and Dylan loves you. This family might be a little bigger than it was the last time you really felt like yourself, but that doesn't mean you're not a part of it anymore."

"Aren't I a little old for the 'we still love you' speech?" Kurt asked, only half joking.

Carole patted his forearm consolingly. "You're never too old for it." She took a sip of her tea. "Look, if you feel like you don't really have a connection with Hannah and Dylan, then maybe you should get to know them. Spend some time with them. Put in the effort."

"You think it's as simple as that?"

"Absolutely, I do," Carole nodded. "Kurt, even if you weren't dealing with all this stuff, it would still be just as important for you to have a good relationship with them. Hannah is your sister-in-law, and Dylan's your nephew. You should get used to that concept, because they're not going anywhere."

Kurt didn't say anything, staring into his mug. His shoulders were heavy, but somehow… he felt a little better.

"Is that scary?" Carole asked.

"No," he shook his head. "No, it's a relief."

Carole smiled. "Good."

The front door opened then, and Burt walked in stomping snow from his boots. "Hey," he greeted them, shrugging off his puffy jacket to hang it on the rack next to Carole's pea coat.

"Hey, Dad."

Burt smiled, clapping Kurt on the shoulder. "Man, I am never going to get tired of hearing that," he said. "How's it going?"

"Pretty good," Kurt replied.

"Yeah?"

Kurt nodded, somewhat surprised at his own honest answer. "Yeah, I'm good."

"No disappearing?"

"Nope."

"Good."

As Burt circled around the counter to give Carole a kiss and get a glass of orange juice from the fridge, Dylan tottered into the room. His hair was rumpled and damp from the bath and he was clutching his stuffed zebra in the crook of his arm.

Almost immediately, Kurt tensed again. Burt frowned at him, noticing the slight movement, but turned his attention quickly to his grandson.

"Hi, buddy!" Burt said, setting his drink on the counter in order to hoist Dylan up with both hands, hefting him onto his hip. "Did you have a good bath?"

Dylan nodded through another yawn. "I want to play outside."

"I think that's a good idea," Burt agreed, patting Dylan's stomach. "You know what, though? I bet if we go play at the park, then Grandma will make us some hot chocolate when we get back."

Dylan lit up at that, nodding enthusiastically.

Kurt watched Dylan with an expression somewhere between sorrow and jealousy, the mug of tea in his hands all but forgotten.

Carole caught him staring, and he looked away, taking what he hoped was an inconspicuous sip from his cup.

"I think Uncle Andy would love to go with you, too," Carole said to Dylan with a pointed glance at Kurt.

Kurt's heart stopped.

"Yeah!" said Dylan, excitedly turning to grin at him.

Kurt looked to Carole in a brief moment of panic, the pit of his stomach ice cold.

Carole gave him an encouraging nod. "Go on, have fun," she urged.

Kurt swallowed. There was no way he could avoid this forever. "Uh, yeah," he forced out. "Sure."

The playground was quiet when they arrived, with no other people milling about other than a couple walking their dog along the paths crisscrossing the park. Dylan let go of Burt's hand to run ahead, making a beeline for the snow-covered slide while Burt and Kurt sat on the nearest bench.

"So how are you feeling?" Burt asked. Kurt hadn't said anything on the ride over, which was worrisome.

Kurt visibly tensed, his hands shoved into his coat pockets. He didn't look at Burt when he answered. "I haven't had any more transitions, Dad," he said, sounding annoyed and a little tired.

"I know, that's not what I meant," Burt replied gently, careful not to react to Kurt's sudden defensiveness. "How are you doing? You still feeling overwhelmed?"

Kurt appeared to relax a bit at that, and he leaned back against the bench. "Yes and no, I guess," he said, letting out a heavy breath that fogged in front of his nose. "I'm getting there, but mostly I try not to think about it too much."

"That's understandable."

Neither of them spoke for several minutes, watching Dylan play in the snow. Burt watched Kurt out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge what was going on in his head without making Kurt feel scrutinized. Kurt's face was hard to read, though, and Burt was left without answers.

Kurt frowned suddenly, looking around the park like he was searching for something specific.

"What's up?"

Kurt didn't respond immediately, appearing deep in thought. "…Have I been here before?" he asked after a moment.

Burt blinked, surprised by the question. "Um, well, not recently," he said. "Your mom used to bring you here all the time when you were a kid."

"Have any of the alters come here?"

"Not that I know of. Why?"

Kurt shook his head. "Never mind," he said, although he still appeared slightly perplexed. "I think I'm just kind of flashing back to when Mom and I would come here. Feels like déjà vu."

Burt smiled. "Well, this was really your go-to place. You and your mom would come here practically every day if you didn't have school."

"Why did we stop coming?"

Burt rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, watching Dylan climbing up the platforms. "I tried to get you to come here a few times after she died," he explained, feeling a pang of grief stab through his chest. "You were dead set against it. You screamed and cried every time I tried to bring you, and eventually I figured it was better to not force you. We didn't start coming back until after Dylan was born."

Kurt was quiet, seeming deep in thought again.

Dylan clumsily went down the slide, landing in the snow with an audible "Oof!"

"You know, his birthday's coming up," Burt remarked. "He's turning four next month."

Again, Kurt said nothing.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Kurt replied softly, sounding more sad than anything else.

Burt reached over to squeeze Kurt's shoulder. "Hey. What's going on?"

Kurt scratched his temple with his forefinger, not quite meeting Burt's eye. "It's just that… I don't know. I shouldn't have to be reminded of all this stuff. I should know already."

A heavy silence fell over them while Burt struggled to form a comforting response, but after a few moments, Kurt spoke.

"I'm really sorry, Dad. I'm sorry I was gone for so long." His voice cracked ever so slightly.

"Kurt, you have nothing to apologize for," Burt insisted, gripping Kurt's shoulder tightly. "Okay? You don't."

Kurt was silent again, watching Dylan play in the snow. His face was unreadable, and somehow that was terrifying.

"Talk to me," Burt urged. "What's going through your head?"

Kurt sighed. "Just a long day, I guess."

Burt let go of Kurt's shoulder, letting his elbow rest on the back of the bench. "Something happen?"

Kurt's mouth tightened for a moment, and he glanced up at the clouds coasting by overhead. "Dad, did Andy ever mention someone named Mitchell?"

Burt blinked. "Uh… no. Why?"

"Apparently he's Andy's boyfriend."

Burt's eyes widened, his heart skipping. "Andy has a boyfriend?"

"Well, potential boyfriend," Kurt amended quickly. "Mitchell said we'd been on a few dates."

"You talked to him?"

"Ran into him downtown. He didn't know it was me."

"Did you tell him?"

Kurt chewed on the inside of his cheeks. "He didn't really give me the chance. I don't think Andy ever actually explained the whole DID situation."

Burt let out a breath, attempting to slow his heartbeat. The idea of Andy dating anyone wouldn't have been so worrisome if Kurt hadn't returned, but now there were a number of different possible outcomes, and not many of them were good. Still, if Mitchell didn't know anything about Kurt's condition, then at least it meant they weren't so involved that it couldn't be handled.

"Is that why you've been having a bad day?" Burt asked.

Kurt shrugged. "You know, it never even occurred to me that the alters might want to be a part of something like that."

"Like what?"

"Dating."

Burt shook his head, his shoulders feeling heavy. "Andy was around for so long, it honestly doesn't surprise me."

Kurt's brow furrowed, and his gaze swiveled around to meet Burt's. "Really?"

"Well, yeah," Burt said hesitantly. He scratched at the back of his neck, not entirely sure of how to phrase this. "I mean… it's not like Andy exists in a vacuum. He's not completely independent from you, and if you were off the dating scene for so long, and you were watching Finn get married and have a family…" Burt trailed off for a moment, just hoping that what he was saying wouldn't somehow make Kurt feel even more like he didn't belong.

Kurt was still watching him expectantly.

"It just kind of makes sense that you'd try to find that too," Burt finished. "Even if it was through Andy."

Kurt swallowed, letting out a long, shaky breath. "I guess," he said quietly.

"Was this Mitchell guy at least a nice person?"

"I think so." Kurt bit his lip, watching Dylan pushing snow into a small pile to make a miniature snowman. "Honestly, he seemed more hurt than anything else."

Burt didn't speak for a few minutes, instead watching the clouds float by overhead. This wasn't an issue they had ever encountered before, and – to Burt's knowledge, at least – Mitchell was the only boyfriend Andy had ever had. Although, now that he thought about it, Andy really wasn't very likely to share it if he had dated anyone in the past. That made Burt nervous at best.

"Look, Kurt—" he started again, intending to offer some speech of comfort and reassurance, but Kurt cut him off.

"Dad, I really don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Okay." Burt chewed the insides of his cheeks for a moment, letting the frigid January air fill his lungs. "But listen to me for a second," he continued a moment later. "All you really need to worry about right now is yourself, okay? We're all with you. And however nice this Mitchell guy might've been, he's not part of our family. I don't want you to lose any sleep over him."

Kurt swallowed, nodding slightly. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows against his knees. "You're right. I just feel bad, though."

"I know. It's 'cause you're a good person and you have a big heart," Burt said. "But… there's things you can control and there's things you can't, and it's up to you to decide what's worth preserving."

Kurt paused, taking it in. "Thanks, Dad."

Burt smiled then, patting Kurt's back. "Now, how about you go play with your nephew?"

Kurt didn't move immediately, instead just watching Dylan with nothing but apprehension. For a moment, Burt thought Kurt might not feel able to do anything but stay on the bench, but after drawing a deep breath and briefly clenching his fists by his sides, Kurt stood up.

"Go on, I'll be right here," Burt encouraged him.

Kurt took another deep breath, then walked off the shoveled path and into the inches-deep snow. His footsteps crunched as he approached Dylan, who was intently focused on pushing a mound of snow together barely a foot high.

"What are you doing?" Burt heard Kurt ask.

"Building a snowman," Dylan replied without looking up.

"Can I help?"

"Yeah!"

Burt abruptly felt a tidal wave of relief wash over him as Kurt knelt in the snow, actively engaging with Dylan for the first time. He watched Kurt nervously participate in Dylan's play, helping to roll a ball of snow together for the snowman's head, and finally allow Dylan to get close to him.

Burt didn't have the slightest inkling of what was on the horizon for Kurt or for their family as a whole, but at last he was able to grasp onto a vague sensation of hope. For all he knew, all of this was about to come crashing down on their heads and Kurt would disappear again, but for now? Here, in the quiet snow-covered park, this was all that seemed to matter.

Maybe everything really would be okay. If not today, then tomorrow.

When Burt and Kurt returned home, the sun was beginning to set, swimming low and red behind the nearby trees, and Finn was outside shoveling the driveway. Kurt tensed slightly as Burt parked the car. This was the first time he'd seen Finn since their argument yesterday, and Kurt was honestly unsure of whether Finn would even want to see him.

But as Kurt stepped out of the car, Finn waved and smiled, leaning his shovel against the porch railing to come and greet them. Burt opened the rear door and unstrapped Dylan from his car seat, hefting him out and setting him on the ground. Dylan immediately ran around the nose of the car and ran to Finn.

"Dad!"

"Hey, buddy!" Finn said as Dylan wrapped his arms around his leg. "How was the park?"

"Andy and me made a snowman."

Finn's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he glanced at Kurt.

Kurt nodded, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets, feeling a bit scrutinized. Perhaps he'd been exuding his discomfort with being around Dylan a little more publicly than he'd thought.

Finn patted the top of Dylan's head. "Why don't you head inside? I think Grandma said she'd make you some hot chocolate."

At that, Dylan immediately whirled around, nearly losing his footing on the icy path, and ran up to the house.

"I'd better go open the door for him," Burt said, following his grandson up onto the porch.

"So the park was good?" Finn prompted, his breath fogging and glowing pink in the evening sunlight.

Kurt nodded again, uncertain even now of whether Finn was still mad at him. "Yeah, it was fun."

Finn smiled. "Good," he said. "So, um… how about you and I go grab that drink?"

Kurt blinked, shocked that Finn's offer from yesterday still stood. Were they suddenly past the fight? Or was Finn attempting an apology?

"Uh, yeah," Kurt answered. "Yeah, that'd be good."

"Great, give me twenty minutes to finish shoveling and we can head over to the Alibi."

"Okay."

Kurt left Finn to his work and went inside, the back of his neck prickling slightly. He hated this feeling of not knowing where he stood with Finn. Walking on eggshells never led to anything good, but for now Kurt could only wait.

In the kitchen, Carole offered him a cup of hot chocolate, which he turned down. He sat next to Dylan and Hannah at the counter island, chatting while the sky outside darkened from reddish pink to violet.

Eventually, Finn leaned in from the front door. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Kurt said, hopping off the stool and re-buttoning the coat he hadn't bothered to take off.

"Have fun!" Hannah called as Kurt followed Finn back out into the cold.

They got into Kurt's Subaru and as Kurt drove away from the curb, a pregnant silence filled the car. Kurt awkwardly kept his eyes on the road ahead, feeling like Finn was watching him despite the fact that Finn was just looking out the window. At the very least, it seemed like Finn was waiting for Kurt to say something. But Kurt only drew a blank.

"You okay?" Finn prompted after a few minutes.

"Yeah, I guess," Kurt replied. He hesitated, chewing the inside of his cheek for a moment. "It's just, you know, last time we talked you were yelling at me."

Finn sighed, shifting in the passenger seat. "I wasn't yelling," he said quietly.

"You were pretty pissed off."

"Well, yeah," Finn said, propping his elbow against the car door. "Dylan's my kid, and you've been through some really dark stuff. Can you blame me for wanting to keep those things separate?"

Kurt swallowed, guilt gripping him by the throat. "No, I don't blame you."

"Kurt, I know it's tough. I really do, but you have to understand that you can't expect a kid Dylan's age to understand what you're going through. Hell, I barely understood it when we were teenagers. I mean… you get that, right?"

Kurt released a heavy breath. "Yeah, I know," he admitted.

"I'm sorry I got so angry."

"It's fine, Finn," Kurt waved him off. "You have different priorities now. That's not a bad thing."

"Still. I don't want you to think I don't give a crap."

"Message received," said Kurt with a somewhat forced smile. "Don't worry about it."

The Alibi Lounge was fairly crowded when Kurt and Finn arrived, taking a pair of stools at the bar. The pub really didn't live up to the title of a 'lounge' but the beer was cold and the jukebox actually had a good selection (or at least, that's the way Finn had described it). A young woman who was far too drunk for this early in the evening was crooning a tragically off-key version of What Is Love? on the tiny karaoke stage in the back.

"Yikes," Kurt remarked with a wince as the woman's voice cracked on a particularly high note. Her friends cheered her on from a table nearby. "I almost want Andy to write a scathing review."

Finn chuckled, peeling off his coat and setting it on the empty stool beside him. "Hey, man, can we get a couple of Heinekens?" he said to the bartender.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "I thought I didn't drink beer."

"You said you'd give it a shot," Finn countered. "You're a thirty-three-year-old man. Time to drink like one."

"If you say so," Kurt said, unable to completely suppress a grin. "You'd better not get me drunk tonight."

Finn huffed a laugh through his nose. "Yeah, like that was totally the plan. Relax, we're just going to have a couple and head home."

The bartender set a pair of beers in front of them, and Finn immediately took a gulp of his, digging into the bowl of peanuts for a handful to munch on. Kurt hesitantly took a sip, then grimaced.

"Oh my God, that's disgusting."

Finn laughed, reaching for Kurt's beer. "You don't have to finish it."

"Hey, hey!" Kurt protested, holding the bottle away from Finn. "I'm still going to drink it."

"You sure?"

"I'm a thirty-three-year-old man."

Finn snorted, cracking a peanut between his teeth. "Okay, then."

Kurt took another, longer sip.

"Still gross?" asked Finn.

"Oh yeah."

Finn laughed again, clapping Kurt solidly on the shoulder. "I really missed this," he said.

Kurt rested his elbows on the bar, frowning slightly. "What?"

"You know, just hanging out," Finn elaborated with a shrug. A barely-detectable shadow flitted over his face. "No alters, no parents or spouses or kids."

"You're the only one with a kid and a spouse."

"You know what I meant."

"Yeah," Kurt said. He nudged Finn with his elbow. "I missed this too."

Finn smiled, taking another gulp of his beer.

"Do you ever hang out like this with Andy?"

To Kurt's surprise, Finn seemed uncertain. "Um… yeah, sometimes," he replied skeptically. "I don't know; Andy honestly just seems distant all the time."

Kurt frowned. "What do you mean?"

Finn shifted in his seat, as though the very thought of Andy was making him want to leave. "I guess it always feels like he's just doing it to humor me."

Kurt had nothing to say to that, and so said nothing. He drank instead. Back on the karaoke stage, the drunk woman moved from What Is Love? on to Love Is A Battlefield. Somehow, the new song was even worse than the first.

"You okay?" Finn asked again after a minute. "You seem pretty down."

"Yeah, yeah," Kurt assured him. "It's been a weird day."

"What happened?"

Kurt let out a huff of breath. "Ran into Andy's boyfriend at Java Joe's."

Finn choked on his beer. "Andy has a boyfriend?!"

Kurt nodded.

"Jeez, how'd that go?"

"He tried to kiss me. I ducked."

There was a beat of silence as Finn stared at him, broken only by the drunk woman's abysmal singing. Then, he abruptly burst into unreserved, deep belly laughter, clapping a hand over his mouth.

"Oh, come on!" Kurt complained, although he couldn't quite stop himself from laughing too. "It was really embarrassing, I'll have you know."

"I'm sorry!" Finn managed to get out between giggles, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry, that's just a really vivid mental picture."

"Well, I'm glad you're amused," Kurt quipped with a grin. Somehow, this was setting him at ease more than anything Burt had said earlier.

Finn drew a deep breath, his laughing fit petered out at last. "So what was he like?"

"Oh, God, he seemed so nice. That was the worst part!" Kurt said in exasperation. "I mean, I've never met this guy and I was more concerned about hurting his feelings than anything else. How messed up is that?"

Finn shrugged. "Maybe you really like him."

"Okay, if I really like him without knowing who the hell he is, then that's even more messed up."

"Fair point."

Kurt turned his beer bottle in his hands, letting the glass cool his palms. "Finn, on a more serious note," he started, changing the subject. "I haven't really had a chance to tell you this since I came back, but I want you to know I'm really proud of you."

Finn blinked in surprise.

"You've got an amazing family and a good life," Kurt continued, sensing an all-too-familiar wave of loneliness wash over him as he spoke. "Hannah is clearly a wonderful person, and Dylan is so happy. And you seem happy too."

Finn smiled. "I am," he said honestly.

"You really deserve to be congratulated."

"You know, you did congratulate me," Finn said. "When I got married and when Dylan was born."

"Well, if Andy's even a bit as standoffish as you say, then as far as I'm concerned nobody's congratulated anybody yet," Kurt reasoned. "So I'm doing it now."

Finn reached over and squeezed Kurt's shoulder. "Thanks, man." He snatched a couple more peanuts out of the little bowl by his elbow. "How about this – tonight, we don't talk about any of the crappy stuff going on right now. No DID talk."

A smile tugged at the corners of Kurt's mouth. "Only good things?"

Finn nodded. "Only good things."

"I'll drink to that," Kurt agreed, clinking his beer bottle against Finn's.

The relief was short-lasting, however, as Kurt wracked his brain for something to say and came up woefully short. Between missing ten years of his life and struggling through several years before that, it seemed there was nothing filling his days or even his thoughts besides his illness. There was nothing new to talk about.

Was this all he was? Was his self reduced to nothing but day after day of just struggling to keep things together?

Kurt swallowed a too-large gulp of his beer, feeling it bubble uncomfortably in his gut. He and Finn sat there quietly, watching the basketball game airing on the TV above the bar.

A few minutes later, Finn abruptly put down his beer with a solid clink on the counter. "Come on," he said, stepping off his stool.

Kurt blinked. "What?"

"Come with me."

Kurt realized Finn was headed for the karaoke stage, where the drunk woman had finally stumbled away and back to her friends, and immediately shook his head. "Finn, no."

"Yes," Finn insisted.

"No!"

Finn gave him a stern, almost paternal look. "Look, I can tell that you're feeling like absolute crap right now. We both know when you feel like crap, it's a hell of a lot easier for the alters to come out. Singing has always made you feel better, so come on."

Kurt stared at him, too stunned to be annoyed. "That's the corniest thing I've ever heard," he said bluntly.

"I don't care," Finn replied with a shrug. "If it means I don't spend the evening with Andy, I'll do it. Now come on."

Kurt rolled his eyes, but it was more of a show than true vexation. "Ugh, fine," he acquiesced, sliding off his stool and following Finn. "But drinks are on you for the rest of tonight."

"Deal."

As they stepped up onto the tiny stage, the group of tipsy women at a nearby table cheered them on with a warbled, liquor-soaked "Whoo!" The wood slats of the stage were splattered with old beer stains, a few peanut shells scattered underfoot. Finn leaned over the little karaoke screen to select a song, then handed the second microphone to Kurt. Guitar strings reverberated from the speakers as Finn turned the volume up and took his place next to Kurt.

Kurt swallowed; as small as this spotlight may have been, it was still making him nervous. Finn clamped a hand down onto Kurt's shoulder in support, and took the first verse.

"I am just a poor boy, though my story's seldom told – I have squandered my resistance for a pocket full of mumbles, such are promises," he sang. "All lies and jest, still a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest."

The verse faded off into a hum, and the drunk women at their table cheered again. Finn gave Kurt an encouraging nod, urging him to take the second verse.

Kurt let out a long exhale, then drew another deep breath into his chest. He could do this.

He lifted the microphone, coming into the song on cue. "When I left my home and my family, I was no more than a boy in the company of strangers, in the quiet of the railway station, running scared…" His voice shook slightly, but he powered through, focusing on Finn's hand firmly gripping his shoulder. "Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters where the ragged people go, looking for the places only they would know."

"Li-la-li," Finn joined in, harmonizing with Kurt as the guitars grew louder and the drums held the tempo.

Slowly but surely, the knot in the pit of Kurt's stomach gradually unclenched. Relief flooded his chest, spreading through his limbs all the way to the tips of his fingers.

"Then I'm laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was home, going home," Kurt continued, standing up a little straighter. His voice wasn't shaking any more. "Where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me, leading me, going home…"

Kurt smiled as Finn joined again for the last verse. Somehow, singing together felt incredibly foreign and still remarkably, certainly safe. Kurt raised his voice in tandem with Finn, the song culminating in its finale.

"In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade, and he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down and cut him 'til he cried out in his anger and his shame, 'I am leaving, I am leaving!' But the fighter still remains."

"The fighter still remains," Kurt finished, the music fading behind him. Finn clapped a hand against Kurt's back, grinning from ear to ear.

Finn had been right – already, Kurt felt less unbalanced, less like he could disappear at any moment. He felt solid. More importantly, he felt welcome. This was exactly where he was supposed to be.

They stepped down off the stage and let the drunk woman reclaim the microphone, and hours later Finn and Kurt found themselves still at the bar. Their plan to not get drunk had been tossed out the window, and while Kurt was more than a little buzzed, Finn had progressed to slurring his words and gesturing more than necessary while he talked.

"I mean, this kid was trying to get me to approve an iguana as a service animal!" Finn was saying, recounting a story from earlier in the school year.

Kurt snorted at the mental picture, his entire brain swimming. "What was he going to do, drag it around school on a leash?"

"I don't know, man, but whatever, you know?" Finn said, flapping a hand. "I try to be inclusive and maybe he really needs the stupid lizard for, you know, mental support. There's all sorts of weird-ass pets these days, so whatever."

"So what'd you do?"

"Well, I ended up calling his mom to get more info about the lizard. Turns out—" Finn paused his story to take another swig from his latest beer. "Turns out she had no idea he even had an iguana. He was keeping the thing hidden in his room and wanted to bring it to school so she wouldn't find it when he was out."

Kurt burst into laughter, nearly leaning back far enough to fall off his stool.

Finn finished off the last of his drink, squinting at his wristwatch. "Oof, it's late," he said. He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "I don't know 'bout you but I am super too drunk to drive."

Kurt nodded. "Me too. I'm going to fall asleep at the wheel."

"Okay, hold on." Finn reached into his pocket and fumbled to retrieve his cell phone, clumsily dialing Hannah's number. "Heeeey, babe," he said into the phone. "So you know that plan we had where we weren't going to get drunk? It didn't work."

Kurt giggled at that, reaching for another handful of peanuts.

"Yeah, we could use a rescue," Finn continued. "Okay, see you soon. Love you." Finn ended the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket. "She'll be here soon."

Kurt shrugged his coat on while Finn settled the tab, and together they headed outside to wait for Hannah. The freezing air jarred Kurt's teeth and sent a shiver down his spine, but it was a refreshing change from the fermented air inside. At the sidewalk in front of the bar, Finn sat on the curb and stretched his legs out along the pavement. Kurt sank down to sit next to him, the cold seeping through his jeans. Overhead, the night sky was clear and crisp, glittering with hundreds of stars and a half moon in the east.

"It's pretty," Kurt remarked, gazing upwards.

"Mm," was all Finn said in agreement.

"Thanks for tonight, Finn. It was a lot of fun."

Finn shrugged, still looking at the stars. "Hey, man. You deserve some fun every now and again."

Kurt smiled. He rubbed his upper arms to try and warm them up. "You want to know the first thought I had when I woke up?"

"When, this morning?"

Kurt pushed Finn's shoulder playfully. "No. You know what I mean."

Finn chuckled. "What was it?"

"I thought I had kidnapped Dylan."

Finn stared at Kurt with a bewildered, lopsided smile. "You what?"

Kurt nodded, starting to laugh. "I did. I thought one of the alters had snuck off and kidnapped a kid."

Finn snorted. "Seriously?"

"Surprise! I'm not a kidnapper, I'm an uncle."

At that, they both dissolved into fits of hysterical, almost unhinged laughter. Their voices echoed across the empty icy parking lot, laughing back at them in the still of the night. Eventually, it faded to the occasional chuckle, and the echoes quieted.

"Finn?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah?"

"Am I happy?"

Despite being drunk, Finn looked at him with genuine thoughtfulness. "I don't know," he answered honestly.

"Neither do I," Kurt sighed.

Finn reached over and knocked his knuckles twice on the side of Kurt's skull. "Everything okay in there?"

"Yup, for now. Or maybe the alters are just as drunk as I am."

"That's possible," Finn agreed with a grin.

Across the lot, a pair of headlights turned off the main road and drove towards them, coming to a stop next to Kurt's Subaru. Hannah leaned out the window of the minivan, wearing a parka thrown on over her pajamas.

"Did you guys have too much fun tonight?"

"Yes, we did," Finn said, hauling himself to his feet with no small amount of effort.

Kurt stood as well, swaying on his feet for a second before catching himself and walking unsteadily alongside Finn to the van. Finn clambered into the front seat while Kurt yanked open the sliding door and heaved himself into the back.

"Hey, babe," Finn said, leaning over to give Hannah a kiss.

She quickly maneuvered out of the way. "Ohh, no," she stopped him. "You're getting a shower before any of that."

Finn huffed and fell back against the seat. "Fair enough."

Hannah glanced at Kurt in the rearview mirror. "How're you doing back there, Kurt?"

"I decided I like beer."

"Okay, then."

Kurt yawned again, shivering in his seat as Hannah drove out of the lot. He settled with his arms wrapped tightly around his torso to keep himself warm, and he leaned his head back to watch the sky overhead. It may have just been the alcohol soaking his brain, but it seemed like the stars were glowing brighter than usual. The snow banks alongside the road were illuminated in soft golden light by the streetlamps above. Any stress that may have been lingering in Kurt's head from earlier in the day was quieted, pushed away.

And it had been a long, long day, but somehow Kurt knew he would sleep well tonight.

A/N: The song used in this chapter is "The Boxer" by Simon & Garfunkel.