"I'm not liking the whole 'mainstreaming' concept. Jamie has special needs that I don't think can be met in a normal classroom. Not to mention the other students…" Honey – Jamie – sat in his daddy's lap as the special education instructor gave Kurt an update on his son's progress in school. His report card was pretty good, but Kurt knew well enough that Jamie's teachers tended to fudge his grades, and push them up, because they didn't really understand his disability.

"The other students actually love Jamie. There's been very little instance of any kind of bullying; the kids are protective of Jamie. And we're doing everything we can to make sure he gets the support he needs in his classes." Mrs. Bachman pulled out some paperwork and began shuffling through it. David was down the hall talking to Jamie's regular education teacher. "David has a paraprofessional to help him in his English class; this past marking period, they were working on individual research projects. Jamie did his report on platypuses."

"Duck-billed 'patypuses' don't quack."

Mrs. Bachman smiled indulgently at Jamie. "That's one of the many things Jamie learned while researching platypuses; he offered to bring one in to accompany his report, but I'm afraid the principal wouldn't go for it. In his history class we don't feel he needs a para; he practices taking notes in his history class and Mrs. Espara says he's doing well with that. For math, he comes here. We've been practicing division using counting blocks. He's getting much better at it."

"David's been working with him on that. They practice dividing mice into different cages, birds into roosts, goats into pens. If Jamie can see it, he can divide it. He has trouble with abstract concepts."

"Yes, another thing we've been trying to work on. The tools we use are just that, tools. We don't want them to become crutches for him. In science, he also has a para. It's probably Jamie's least favorite subject and the one he has the most trouble with." Jamie nodded; he hated science. "Next semester they're going to move away from sound and energy to biological adaptations. He'll probably like that, since the class will deal heavily with animals."

"Good; another thing David can help him with."

"Gym and art are Jamie's favorite subjects."

"I like kickball!" Jamie perked up. "I like lunch, too! Pizza on Fiday and noodles on Monday and chicken on Wed-day, stir fry on Tuesday and meat on Tersday. Vegetable-tarians have sammiches on Wed-day and Tersday."

"Jamie has also been meeting with a speech pathologist twice a week while the other students have health class. Jamie and the speech pathologist have been focusing, for the moment, on the correct pronunciation of words, and not so much letter combinations. Once Jamie has mastered the hundred most common words, then they'll move on to the most common syllabic sound groupings."

Kurt hugged Jamie more tightly. "I've noticed some of his words are clearer."

Mrs. Bachman leaned forward and rubbed Jamie's arm to get his attention. "So how are you liking middle school, Jamie?"

Jamie nodded against Kurt's chest. "I like school. I like bein' in the fiff grade. Uhmma – I'm…a…big boy, now."

xoxoxo

"Do you have any more of the red two-dot ones?" Jamie dug around in his stash of Lego blocks until he was able to find a few two-dot Lego blocks for his aunt Kalli. Kalli added them onto her side of the brick house they were making together. Kalli's side of the house had alternating rows of coloured bricks: blue, yellow, white, red, blue, yellow, white, red. Jamie's side was a mismatch of different sizes and colours: whatever he could find at the time.

Kalli was spending the week with her brother and brother-in-law. She was developmentally six years older than her nephew (Jamie wasn't technically the age he appeared; he had been seven months when Hera and David had turned him into a three-year-old), but she still adored playing with him. "I found half a pie-wit."

Jamie handed the Lego pirate torso to his auntie so she could see it. "Can you say 'rit,' Honey? Rrrrit?" Kalli rolled her "r" to make it more evident.

"Wwrrrit." Jamie started out with the "w" sound but changed it over to an "r" partway through the word.

"Good. Now say 'pie-rit."

"Pie-rit. Pie-rit. Pirate."

"Very good, Jamie. Now try my name. Kallodoro. Kallod-" The sound of the doorbell cut Kalli off. "I'll go get it. Can you find me some more two-dot pieces?" As Jamie nodded, Kalli pushed herself up off the floor and started heading downstairs. When she opened the front door, she saw her father standing there, his left fist against the side of the door while he leaned forward, his head downcast. "Daddy! I'm not supposed to come home until Sunday."

Paul looked up and smiled weakly at his daughter. "I'm not here to collect you. I need to speak with Kurt."

Kalli watched her father warily; his behavior was very uncharacteristic for him. "I'll go get him. Come in." Paul followed his daughter and waited in the living room of his former home for his son-in-law to show up. Instead, he was greeted by his grandson stumbling down the stairs.

"Grandpa!"

Paul forced a smile on his face and snatched up his grandson. "Hello, Honeysuckle. How are you doing?"

"Good! My English teacher gave me a picture book about you and grandma to read. It's by Sally Clayton. She got everything wrong, though."

Paul laid his cheek on Jamie's head. "They usually do."

"Hey, Paul." Kurt came into the living room, Kalli trailing behind.

Kalli went up to her grandpa and held out her hands, taking her nephew from his arms. "Come on Jamie. Let's let our daddies talk. We'll go finish building our house."

"How're things going, Paul?"

Paul held his hand up in front of him, palm side up; a file folder appeared in his hand. Paul began flipping through the pages inside. When he got a few dozen pages in, he stopped and handed the folder to Kurt, open to the page he had found.

Kurt looked at the page. It was a list of names and other data. Kurt allowed his eyes to wander down the page until it came to a stop on one very familiar name:

Hummel, Burt – 2037 March 12 – 0453 – Cardiac arrest

Kurt sat down, one hand behind him, trying to find the seat, the other still gripping the folder. "Is this…this is…"

"I'm sorry, Kurt." Paul sat down beside Kurt, his hands folded in his lap.

"Will it be painful?"

Paul shook his head. "No. He'll probably go in his sleep. It'll be quiet." As an afterthought, Paul, nearly whispering, said to himself, "'No shock. No engulfment. No tearing asunder. What you feared would come like an explosion is like a whisper. What you thought was the end is the beginning.' You've been there Kurt; you know it isn't frightening; it isn't painful. I'll be there to meet him at the Plains of Judgment. I'll have your mother waiting there as well." Kurt was quiet. Not showing any reaction to what Paul was telling him. "He's nearly 80 Kurt. He's led a good, long life."

"That doesn't make it any easier. It should, but it won't…I want to be there, as well." Paul nodded. He couldn't deny Kurt such a simple request.

xoxoxo

"Hey Carol, it's Kurt. Yes, everyone's doing well." Kurt stopped talking as Carol started. "Yep…actually, I was hoping we could all go out for dinner sometime this weekend. Friday, Saturday, Sunday…whatever."

xoxoxo

It was a good dinner. Kurt hadn't told Jamie or David the point of the dinner (they were horrible actors), but they all still made the most of it. Burt and Carol both fawned over their grandson, as usual. Emotionally and psychologically, it was a good dinner for Kurt. He got to spend one last evening with his dad; but, at the same time, he could see that it really was time for his dad to go. His father's hearing had started going a long time ago; his memory was suffering; his breathing sounded labored. According to Carol he was having more and more difficulty getting around. Burt Hummel had lived a long, fulfilling life with surprisingly few health issues given how old he was when he had started taking care of himself.

Kurt was already in bed that night when he finally let himself feel. He was curled against David when the tears started rolling slowly down his face. David, feeling the moisture against his chest, pulled back to look at Kurt. "Are you ok?" Those three words were all it took for the floodgates to open. Kurt began crying with an intensity he hadn't known since he was a child – since his mother had died. David rocked Kurt back and forth, trying to sooth him like a baby. Kurt was pretty certain he was able to get the words out between sobs at one point, but finally he cried himself to sleep.

xoxoxo

Three days later, Kurt and David woke up a sleeping Jamie and brought him to the Underworld. They stood somberly beside Paul, Sophie and Kurt's mother, behind the judges. Between the three judges, they had to "sentence" nearly four people per second. Of course, time flowed differently in the Underworld, but they still had a heavy caseload and there was a constant stream of people. Kurt couldn't imagine how they would spot his father in all this, but they did. Jamie was the one to spot him. "Grandpa."

He looked younger. Much younger. Perhaps in his early thirties. He looked healthy and stronger, as well. Burt didn't seem to see them, even though he was looking right at them. Aeacus pointed at Burt Hummel, and directed him to the "Asphodel Shore," the place for people who were neither great heroes, nor evil. Burt stepped off the path, heading into Asphodel and a light came to his eyes as realization seemed to dawn on him. He looked over his son and grandson. "What's going on?" And then he spotted his beloved, belated wife. Burt stepped forward, and faltered. Elizabeth closed the distance between them. "Lizzy…I've missed you so much."

"It's ok, Burt. You're home now."

Burt nodded, "I know…I'm dead, aren't I?" Elizabeth nodded solemnly. "Why…why are they here?" Burt gestured to Kurt, David, Jamie, Sophie and Paul. "Are they…?"

"No, dad. I…I died when I was a teenager, but the god of the Underworld took pity on me and brought me back. He made me a god when I got sick and nearly died a second time."

"God?"

Kurt nodded and gestured to Paul. "The Greek myths and legends are true, Burt. Zeus, Hercules, the Odyssey…all of it." Burt just stared at Paul…he wanted to not believe him, but, somehow, everything just felt right. They weren't lying. Lies didn't exist. Not here; not now; not in this place.

"So you're all gods?"

Kurt nodded again. "I'm the god of fashion…I'm one of the muses. Paul is Hades; Sophie is Persephone. David is their son, Zagreus, god of domesticated animals and pests."

"He always was a pest, wasn't he?"

Kurt smiled, trying to hold back the tears. He was so glad his father wasn't suffering any…though he knew that wasn't possible for him, not any longer. "And Jamie here…well, we don't know what he's god of, yet."

"So he isn't adopted, then? Unless you adopted him from another god?"

Jamie answered for himself. "I'm a skunk!"

"A skunk? He's…is he that skunk you used to have as a pet?"

"Yes. Hera and David made him human, then changed his DNA so that he was our son."

Burt got down on one knee and checked his grandson out, seemingly for the first time. "So you really are my grandson?"

Jamie didn't understand the question; he didn't know Burt was alluding to the fact that he'd always assumed Jamie was adopted. He answered the best he could. "Yup. And you're my grandpa."

Burt smiled as Jamie wrapped his arms around Burt's neck. "Always, buddy. Always."

xoxoxo

It's been a fun ride. I'm glad you all enjoyed this so much. The reviews I've gotten for the last few chapters have been among my favorite reviews.

For those of you wondering, I imagine Honeysuckle (Jamie) will grow up to be the god of those with handicaps or disabilities (it's astounding that there's no god of the handicapped considering there is a handicapped god [Hephaestus]!).

Edit: I forgot to mention: the quote Paul whispers to himself is from the Twilight Zone episode "Nothing in the Dark" about "Mr. Death." It's the single most beautiful episode of Twilight Zone. I highly recommend you watch it.