Chapter Text
"I don't have much time. I don't have time to worry about how it happened, it is what it is. We're genetically engineered to stop aging at twenty-five. The trouble is we live only one more year, unless we can get more time. Time is now the currency. We earn it and spend it. The rich can live forever and the rest of us... Just once I'd like to wake up with more time on my hand than hours in the day."
Kurt Hummel looked down at the timer on his left arm, twenty-three hours and forty-eight minutes with thirty-one, thirty, twenty-nine and so on as each second passed by. He got up from his bed, knowing his dad was already up and about in the kitchen getting ready to leave for the day.
He walked over to his window and pulled the curtains apart letting some light in. The light illuminated his bright blue and green eyes. He had a pale complexion and his brown hair looked lighter in the sun. Even though he was twenty-eight, his face still looked like he had when he'd been twenty-one. He'd always looked younger for his age, so when his timer began at twenty-five he knew that was the face he'd be stuck with for as long as he had time to live. When he really didn't have time to take care of his appearance he'd let a small beard grow which made himappear a bit older. But he didn't have the time to groom it and take care of it, so he'd get rid of it after a couple of days.
He looked out the barred window for a moment before he hurried off to get dressed. When he stepped out into the kitchen/living room he found his dad stirring a spoon in his coffee mug.
"Hey dad," Kurt greeted as he walked over to get something from the pantry.
"You got in late last night, kiddo," Burt Hummel said, his voice full of disapproval and worry.
"I put in some overtime," Kurt replied taking out a plastic bag.
Burt turned to face him, "Where'd it go?"
"On you!" Kurt said with a smile as he held out a champagne bottle, it'd only cost him six hours, but it was worth it for his dad. "Happy 50th!"
Burt smiled as he took the bottle from him. "That's right."
Even though Burt was fifty he did not look it so, he looked like he had twenty-five years ago. He was the same height as Kurt, with darker brown hair. Except, Burt's face was more round, and his figure was more broad than Kurt's.
Kurt gave his dad a tight hug. He was the only family he had left, his mother having died when he was just eight. That was the problem with the timers. You run out of time, you die. Specially in the ghetto or Lima, one of the four poorest time districts. Everyday people died because they ran out of time or it got stolen. His father used to be a time fighter, but stopped after Kurt's mother died, still he had taught Kurt a thing or two.
"Well, twenty-five for the twenty-fifth time," Kurt said as he pulled away.
"You know, by this age I was sure I'd at least have a grandchild," Burt frowned.
Kurt let out a sigh and took a step back. Even though times were different and no one had time to care who you liked or slept with, Kurt hadn't yet told his dad that he wasn't into women.
"Oh, here we go," Kurt muttered turning his back on his dad.
"Mrs. Jones daughter, Mercedes, is always asking about you," Burt quickly said.
"Who has time for a girlfriend?" Kurt used the same excuse every time his father began to talk about him being single. “What do you got?" he asked changing the subject.
"Three days, not even," his dad replied glancing down at his timer. "We owe half of that in rent, eight in electric and we're still late on that loan."
Kurt watched his father go into his own room.
"I could make extra on the side, you know," Kurt said casually. "I could-"
"Try fighting?" Burt finished as he returned into the room with a coat in his hands. Burt met Kurt's gaze before he spoke. "No one wins."
"I know," Kurt answered looking down.
"I won't be back tonight," Burt went on. "I've got two days work in West Lima, meet me tomorrow night at the bus stop after I pay off the loan," he took a deep breath, "I won't have long."
"I'll be there," Kurt reassured him, reminding himself to go find Jacob for the two hours he owed him.
Burt placed his right hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Kurt, I wouldn't know what to do if I lost you."
Kurt looked at his dad and nodded. Truthfully, he didn't know what he'd do without his dad. Losing his mom had been hard, but walking everyday knowing that any moment he could lose his dad, he just couldn't bear the thought.
"I'm late," Kurt suddenly said as his eyes caught sight of the clock on the wall.
"Let me give you thirty minutes for a decent lunch," Burt said stopping him.
With a sigh, Kurt took his father's right hand on top of his and watched as thirty minutes passed over from his dad's timer to his. He now had one whole day, with a few minutes leftover.
"I love you," Kurt said leaning in to give his dad a kiss on the cheek like he did every morning whenever he left for work. "Happy Birthday, dad. When you get back we're going to celebrate."
Burt couldn't help but smile as he watched Kurt step out of the front door.
Kurt took the elevator down to the first floor, before exiting the building. The streets were alive with people moving. Those who hadn't turned twenty-five still had the luxury to lounge around doing nothing. But those who were already over had to find ways to find the time. Kurt was grateful his apartment building was merely two blocks away from the factory he worked in making TimeHolders.
"Kurt," he heard a child's voice as he walked quickly to the cafe stand a street away. He turned his head around and spotted the source. A small girl, no older than ten caught up to him.
"You got a minute?" she asked, her dark eyes looking into him.
"What are you talking about?" he asked. "You have a whole year."
Alice had become an orphan at the age of eight and since then had been taking care of herself. With no parents to take care of her she relied on the kindness of the people around her. She was always asking for minutes so she could buy food and clothes for herself. Kurt felt for her and always tried to help her when he could.
"Not a year I can use yet," she stated raising her arm and showing him her timer. On her small arm was a year stored for when she turned twenty-five. Until then she couldn't use the time she had for the moment.
"Come on, Kurt," she begged him.
Kurt looked down at her before extending his hand. Alice passed over her TimeHolder, a small metal gadget with a scanner which held time, to him.
"Here, have five minutes," he said as he put the scanner part on top of his timer and passing over five minutes. "Get out of here."
With a smile, Alice left him and he continued on his way. Glancing down at this time he realized he had to get a move on. He ran to the coffee stand, hoping to grab something quick before heading in for his shift at work. He spotted his best friend, Noah Puckerman or as he preferred "Puck" at the front of the line. Just as he neared him, he heard the tone signaling that the prices were changing again. He looked up at the screen board and sure enough, the prices for each item went up by a few seconds.
"Four minutes for a cup of coffee?" he asked as he stood next to Puck who looked tired.
"Yesterday it was three," Puck told the man behind the bullet-proof glass counter.
The man looked bored, "Do you want coffee or to reminisce?"
"Two coffees," Kurt ordered shaking his head. "How many shifts do you have today?" Kurt asked Puck as he scanned his arm through the metal register and paying for the coffees.
"Just two," Puck said grabbing his cup and quickly adding brandy to it from a flask he carried in his pocket. "Really excited," he added sarcastically to Kurt before taking a loud sip of his coffee.
That was the thing about Puck, he was a big drinker so half the time he was buzzed or hungover. Kurt didn't say anything as they made their way to the factory.
As they neared the entrance they saw two man fighting. Fighting for time was the modern version of hand wrestling. Except fighting could sometimes mean putting your life at risk. You only fought someone if you were had no choice or were seeking revenge. The main goal of fighting was to get your opponent to zero first. Those who sometimes did it for fun chose thirty seconds, but even then it was still a risk. Whoever got to the assigned time first won and majority of the times you kept your opponents times.
"If you have any of your father in you, you could make a fortune," Puck said to Kurt as they passed the two men. Puck was much older than Kurt, at least by five years, so he knew of the reputation Burt had as a fighter.
"I don't fight," Kurt stated, looking away from the men. Even though he had fought before when times were hard and he needed time badly, he never felt good about it afterward. Taking someone elses time for your own survival, it was still murder, even if it went unpunished majority of the time.
Kurt spotted one of the supervisor's standing at the front door of the factory and wondered why he was there. It wasn't until they were a few feet away that he saw a man lying on the floor dead. His timer was black with thirteen zero's in full display.
"Another one," Puck said as they were a feet away. "On broad daylight."
It wasn't uncommon for people to run out of time and just drop dead, but lately it was happening more and more. Kurt stopped as he stared at the body and then met the eyes of the supervisor. The supervisor looked at Kurt as if waiting for him to do something, but finally Kurt just went inside to his station.
He hated his job. Yet he knew it was either earning five minutes for each TimeHolder he finished or fighting. Those were your only options in the ghetto. And for him it was pull the lever which tightened the scanner unto the TimeHolder. Pull, release, and repeat.
At the end of his shift he went to make line to get paid for his week's work. From how many time collectors he'd made today he figured he'd earned at least twelve hours. The line was moving quickly and soon he was scanning his timer, waited for it to get his profile and then give him his time. He pulled his arm back when he heard the 'ding' and looked down at it. He stopped walking when he saw he'd only been paid eight hours.
"Whoa, whoa, what is this?" he asked taking a step back to look at the supervisor in charge of pay. "Where's the rest?"
The supervisor looked at him unfazed before replying, "You haven't met your quota."
That's crazy, he thought. He'd put in more than he had to. "My units are up from last week."
"So has the quota," the supervisor simply said. "Next."
"That's a joke right?"
"Next."
"Move, you're taking forever," the man behind him said.
Kurt cast another dark glance at the supervisor before walking away. He hated these days. When taxes, prices and quotas all went up. It meant spending and working more which was already hard to as it was.
Since his father wasn't home, the apartment felt lonely as Kurt finished his late dinner and turned on the television. An hour later when he was beginning to get sleepy the phone rang. It was Puck's wife, Rachel, asking if he knew where he was. Sighing, Kurt told her he'd go look for him and to stay home with their newborn child.
Kurt had an idea of where Puck could be at this time. He left his apartment and headed four blocks down east near Puck's place. Across the street was a local bar. He could hear loud Spanish Latin music before he even opened the doors. Inside the bar it was packed with people in flashy outfits, all dancing, drinking, laughing and having a good time.
He passed a couple of women whom tried to get him to dance with them. There were a few tables scattered around with men sitting in them. He stopped at one, recognizing the players, a few guys younger than him who he used to go to school with.
"You in, Kurt?" one of them asked causing a curly haired boy with a fro to look at him.
Kurt noticed they were playing poker, his favorite gambling game from which he used to play a lot before he turned twenty-five. "I don't have time to gamble anymore."
"Well thank God," the boy with the a fro, Jacob, spoke. "Ever since you stopped playing, I started winning," he explained as he set down his winning cards.
"You still owe me two hours," Kurt said seriously as he reached out for Jacob's hand with his and took his time. Jacob didn't argue seeing as he just had won his game. "You seen Puck?" he asked the group as the time passed to him. One of the guys pointed to the bar and Kurt let go of Jacob's hand.
Puck was near the back of the bar, and as Kurt walked to him he couldn't help, but notice a very well dressed man, with wavy hair and two women practically sitting on his lap. The man had a wide smile as the girls gushed over him. That man was definitely not from Lima, Kurt was sure of that.
"Kurt," Puck called him over.
"Hey," Kurt said placing his hand on his shoulder. "Your wife is looking for you."
Puck ignored him and slid his arm around Kurt's shoulder instead. He pointed at the rich man as he tried to not fall off his seat. "This mad man has been buying drinks all night! He's got a century," Puck nearly yelled over the loud music.
Kurt stared at the man, in his tailored suit, smiling at the girls at his side. That's when he saw him, a minute man, staring at the rich guy. Kurt turned his attention away from him back to Puck, "Come on, let me get you home."
Puck turned to the bar, where a new drink sat in front of him. "As soon as I finish this drink," he said picking up the glass.
"Hey you," the rich guy suddenly called out to the bartender. And that's when he saw that what Puck had said about the guy having a century was true. He'd pulled up his sleeve to show off his timer. This could not end well, Kurt thought. You could get killed for even having more than a weeks worth around here. This guy seemed to be asking for a death wish. "More of everything!"
Kurt's eyes went back to to the minute man whom he saw hanging up his phone and staring hungrily at the century on the man's arm. Kurt left Puck and walked over to the man, overhearing one of the girls tell him he could take her home if he wanted.
"Excuse me," he said to the blonde one and pushing himself in between the two. "You need to get outta hear," he said leaning in towards the man. "Somebody is going to clean that clock."
"Yes," the man said nodding before looking away.
"I mean, they aren't going to rob you, they are going to kill you. They can't take that much time and let you live to tell about it."
"Yes," the man repeated.
"I don't think you understand," Kurt said now frustrated by the fact that this man wasn't taking him serious. "You should not be here!"
He had barely finished his sentence when the doors swung open, a group of four men entering. The music immediately stopped and as the men walked inside everyone in the room began to leave quickly. Some left through the front and others through the back. Even the women who had been fawning over the rich guy left. Everyone knew minute men were dangerous. They robbed you, took away most of your time, if not all.
The rich guy sat frozen on his seat. The bar emptied quickly and Kurt could hear Puck calling him.
Kurt saw the ringleader, Dave Karofsky, stop a pretty blonde girl by the arm and kiss her. He knew Dave and his minute men, he'd run into them shortly after he turned twenty-five. He'd been lucky he'd only had four hours then and Karofsky had only taken two hours from him, warning him to be careful next time.
"Minute men," Puck said, "Minute men. Come on, walk away." Kurt let himself be pulled away as Puck continued, "Those guys aren't playing around."
"Wait, wait," Kurt said hurriedly as he stopped when they reached the back. He didn't know why, but he just knew he couldn't leave the rich guy to be killed. When he turned around to look back the rich guy was now standing up in front of the five men.
"He's asking for it," Puck argued. "Let's go, come on. He's not one of us. You think he'd help us?
Kurt turned his gaze from the scene to Puck. "Don't worry, I won't do anything stupid. Go," he whispered.
Puck stared at him as if he was crazy before leaving. Kurt remained hidden in the back, watching as Dave took out a gun and placed it down on the table.
"Name's Karofsky," he told the rich guy. "And that is a very nice watch." The rich guy looked down at his revealed timer. "Do you mind if I try it on?" Karofsky asked. "I think it would suit me." When the man said nothing, Karofsky began to take off his coat. "I'll tell you what, I'll fight you for it." The man remained quiet. "Come on, I'm an old man. I turned seventy-five last week."
The man took a few steps forward before Kurt barely heard him say, "I need a moment."
Kurt realized he was heading to the bathrooms in the back when he moved further down the hall, hiding in the shadows. One of Karofsky's minute man had stationed himself at the front entrance of the bathroom and Kurt saw the rich man stumble inside quickly. The minute man followed the rich guy inside and Kurt knew this was his opportunity to get him out of there.
Keeping in the shadows he slipped inside the bathroom before pushing himself against the half-open door and heard it came in contact with a body. He opened the door and found the minute man lying on the floor and the rich guy kneeling by the toilet.
"Let's get you out of here," he said grabbing the man by the arm and pulling him out of the bathroom. He knew Karofsky and his gang had seen them as they passed on their way out from the light coming from the bathroom. He also knew he was taking an immense risk at saving this guy's life. It probably had to do with the fact that this man had a century's life worth. Or maybe because he hated minute men. They robbed people who worked so hard for their time. There was no way he was going to let Karofsky and his men get this century so easily even if this rich guy hadn't listened to him earlier.
As he pushed the man out the back door and closed it the man spoke, "Stop! What are you doing? I can take care of myself."
"Yeah, I can see that," Kurt said back as he pushed a big trash can in front of the door. Instantly there were bangs coming from the other side.
The man looked at him, "I know what I'm doing."
"Run!" Kurt ignored him and pulled him down the alley, towards the back street, running as fast as he could.
They were running down an open street, with nowhere for them to hide. A few moments later he heard the engine of a car and saw lights on them. Damn, they were being followed. Kurt continued running, not letting go of the other man. He could die on his own later, but not right now. The car was gaining on them when Kurt saw a metal fence.
"Here," he said throwing the man to it. "Hurry!"
He helped lift him up and watched him fall to the other side. He'd always been agile and swift, so with a leap he also climbed the fence. He landed on the other side as the car came to a stop with a loud screech behind him.
"Move!"
He continued moving, pulling the other man in the direction of where he was going. He found a crow bar on the floor and picked it up. They reached another open street and could hear the car just around the corner. He suddenly saw a door next to a garage door, with a chain and lock. Using the crow bar he busted the lock and unchained the door.
"Where the hell are you going?" he hissed as he reached out for the man who had began walking away. "Get in there," he said pushing the man inside and getting in as well.
He threw the crowbar away and pushed the metal chain out an open hole through the lock on the door before pulling on it and keeping the door shut. A second later the loud screech of a car stopping nearby was heard.
Kurt pressed himself against the door knowing there was a chance that they could be found. He heard the minute man, their heavy footsteps before he began hearing other garage doors being banged on.
He knew if they banged on the one he was in they would be found. His dad was going to be waiting for him tomorrow and he'd never be there.
He heard someone kick a door nearby before pulling on the door of the chain he was holding. The door moved a little so the other person on the other side kicked it. Kurt held on to the chain tightly, not letting go. The other person kicked again before giving up and moving away. Kurt let go of the chain softly, took the other man's arm and pulled him inside the building. They found a set of stairs and quickly began climbing them to the third floor where a big open space was with a few broken chairs and some sofas.
He pushed the man on a hard sofa, the man wheezing as he tried to regain his breath. Kurt continued walking over to the big windows, peering out of the broken one out into the street. It was empty.
"Dammit, dammit," he muttered as he began to pace. He turned when he heard the other man chuckle. "What the hell are you doing here? Flashing all that? You outta your mind?"
The man sat up and looked at him. "Jesse St. James."
Kurt said nothing back, watching Jesse take out a flask of alcohol and drink from it. "Kurt Hummel."
Jesse nodded before holding the flask out to him. He took it reluctantly before taking a swig. He made a face as he felt the liquor burn his throat. He let out a small cough, "God."
"Drink more, it gets better," Jesse said calmly.
He didn't know why he was listening to him, but did as he said. This time it burned even more. "Oh, not much better," he said giving it back to Jesse.
Kurt heard a car's engine and walked back to the window. The car was circling the area, that's why he hadn't seen it earlier. "You'll be safe til the morning; I'll get you out of here." He paused before asking something he already knew the answer to, "You're from New Greenich?"
Jesse grinned before nodding. "Does it show?"
New Greenich was one of the few rich time districts in the country. Only those who had decades, like Jesse, lived in New Greenich.
"Nah," Kurt said mockingly shaking his head, before uncovering his timer and looking down at it. He had less than nineteen hours on his timer.
"Looks like you could use some help yourself," Jesse said who was looking at him.
"No thanks," Kurt said curtly. He hadn't saved this guy's life for time, ridiculous as that might sound.
"Hold old are you?" Jesse asked. "In real time."
"Twenty-eight."
"I'm a hundred and five," Jesse whispered.
"Good for you," Kurt said unimpressed. "You won't be a hundred and six if you have more nights like tonight."
"You were right," Jesse suddenly said. "The day comes when you've had enough. Your mind can be spent even if your body is not."
Kurt felt himself get angry. This man had all the time he could want and he was upset? Kurt couldn't help but to think to those days when he and his dad barely had less than six hours put together.
"We want to die," Jesse confessed. "We need to."
Kurt narrowed his eyes at him as he walked to the big chair across from where Jesse was sitting. "That's your problem? You've been alive too long?" his voice rising, not caring about the minute men waiting outside anymore.
Jesse stared up at him before looking down.
"You ever know anyone who has died?" Kurt asked. When Jesse simply looked at him again with empty eyes, Kurt turned around before taking a seat.
"For a few to be immortal many must die," Jesse muttered, but Kurt made out the words.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?
"You really don't know, do you?" Jesse asked, looking at him like he was a kid. And he figured that to Jesse he was just a kid. "Everyone can't live forever, where would we put them? Why do you think there are time zones? Why do you think taxes and prices go up the same day in the ghetto? The cost of living keeps rising to make sure people keep dying. How else could there be men with a million years almost from day to day?" They looked at one another before he continued. "The truth is, there's more than enough. No one has to die before their time."
Kurt looked at Jesse for a moment before looking away. If that were true then his mother would still be alive. She wouldn't be dead right now.
Jesse spoke again. "If you had as much time as I have on that clock, what would you do with it?
Kurt reached down and lifted up his sleeve, glancing down at his timer. "I'd stop watching it," he admitted. Jesse seemed to pity him for a moment which brought back his anger. "I can tell you one thing," his voice more firm, "If I had all that time, I sure as hell wouldn't waste it."
Jesse nodded at him as if he understood what he meant. Kurt knew he didn't. Jesse probably never had to worry where he would get more time from. Or that he was running on just a few hours and needed more time soon.
"Get some rest," he said softly. Jesse glanced down at his timer. "Don't worry I won't take it in the night."
"That would take years," Jesse said with a smile.
Jesse passed him over the flask again and he took another sip. A big sip, now enjoying the way the liquor felt in his mouth. "Wow, it does get better."
He gave Jesse the flask back who drank the remainder. Suddenly, he felt really tired. All that running and the liquor had worn him down. He leaned back against the big chair and closed his eyes. He hoped Jesse would fall asleep so they could leave early tomorrow.
Jesse did not go to sleep that night. He laid on the couch, thinking the whole time before making up his decision. He'd come to Lima to find death and if it hadn't been for Kurt he would have gotten it last night. Now his mind was more set than ever. The sun had been shining outside for two hours already, when he looked over to where Kurt sat, sleeping quietly. He looked like he really was worn out. And if what he assumed was true then he knew why. Kurt was living each day just hoping to be able to live the next.
He was a survivor.
Getting up quietly from the couch he walked over to Kurt's right side. Kurt would appreciate all this time so much more than him. You didn't always have to link and hold hands to pass time, as long as your wrists touched the time would transfer. Gently, his left wrist made contact with Kurt's. He looked down at his timer and watched his time pass over to Kurt. He broke the connection when he had five minutes left. That should be enough, he thought before he walked over to the windows covered in dust. With the tip of his finger he wrote out a message for Kurt. As he left the room, he only regretted not having found Kurt sooner.
Kurt woke up with a jolt and looked over to the empty sofa. Where was Jesse?
He blinked a few times before looking down at his arm. When he pulled up his sleeve he could not believe what he saw. His timer read: 0116•39•4•04•26•11. (Years, Weeks, Days, Hours, Minutes, Seconds)
So much time. But it wasn't his, this was Jesse's time and where was he? He looked around the room, when the dusty window caught his attention. He walked over it to it and read 'Don't waste my time'.
Stunned, he looked out the window to where the bridge leading out of Lima was. And in it, he could see someone, not just someone, but Jesse. No, his brain screamed before a moment later he was running out of the building as fast as he could.
Jesse had reached the bridge with a minute to spare. He looked around and noticed the area was empty. Even if there were people he doubted anyone would stop him. He got on top of the thick cement railing. He didn't know what was going to happen; how he would die. He didn't know anyone who had died. His family was rich; he knew all of his grandparents and great-grandparents.
He never thought that there were other places, like the ghetto, that didn't have so much time. It wasn't until he started working with his family that he slowly began to learn about the ghettos and the taxes. How they were all purposely raised, so that people would die. It was a horrible truth, but the rich controlled the population of the poor districts. Even though he tried to live without caring, it was hard.
He'd been alive for so long, he was tired of living if he was honest. But how do you die when you still have a century left on your timer? He knew he couldn't die in New Greenich, he wouldn't be allowed. So he left and came to Lima instead. He'd almost died, but Kurt had saved him. He'd been angry at him at first, but now he was relieved. He had told someone of what was going on New Greenich. Maybe Kurt could change things... so that no one had to die before their time was up. So that there weren't men out there, like his father who had been alive for two centuries already.
Jesse knew that any second his time would run out and then he felt it, a small pain in his heart before everything went black.
Kurt didn't stop running until he reached the middle of the bridge, where he'd seen Jesse, but he wasn't there anymore. He stopped, catching his breath and leaning over the barrier he looked down. He had an idea of who was down there, but it was still something he did not want to see. Jesse was lying on his chest at a weird angle, a small stream of water running through him.
Taking a deep breath, Kurt looked down at his feet. He'd tried to save him, but Jesse had his mind made up. Suddenly, panic began to build up inside. He had to leave the ghetto, he couldn't be there with so much time on his hands. It was a good thing his father was coming back tonight, then they could both leave and go to Westerville, one of the middle-class districts or maybe even New Greenich.
Without missing a beat, he ran back towards the city. He wasn't really thinking of where to go, but figured he'd go see Puck and let him know he was alive. When he reached the second floor of the apartment building Puck lived in he found Rachel outside with their baby boy.
"Hey, Kurt," she greeted him with a big smile.
"Rachel," he said leaning in and kissing her cheek. "Is Puck in?"
"Yeah,” she replied before she called out for Puck. She continued to cradle the baby before reaching for his arm. "Look at that. Shame we have to wait twenty-five years, we could use that year right now."
Kurt looked at her wanting to just hand over five years of his.
"Puck!" she called out again and a moment later Puck stepped out putting on a shirt.
"I'm here," he said wrapping his arms around her.
Kurt gave him a look, avoiding Rachel's gaze and Puck caught on before nodding.
"Better get him inside," Puck said to Rachel, meeting her eyes.
Rachel looked at them both before nodding and going inside. Kurt didn't say anything as he began to head towards the stairs and walking down. Puck followed him without saying anything, too. Kurt looked around when they reached the first floor, making sure no one was watching.
"Look at this," he said in a low voice before pulling up his sleeve and showing his timer to Puck.
"Where did you get that?" Puck asked surprised.
"Guy at the bar," Kurt said beginning to walk. "They were going to kill him. He gave it to me. He timed himself out before I could stop him."
"No one gives anybody a hundred years," Puck stated as he walked next to him.
"He didn't just give me this. He told me the truth about it," Kurt said seriously.
"You can't let anyone see it," Puck told him his voice showing concern. "You know that time is going to get you killed."
Kurt nodded, he knew that, before looking away. Slowly he turned to face Puck who still had the same expression before smiling. "How long have we been friends?"
Puck looked at him dumfounded before answering, "Ten years?"
Kurt reached out for Puck's left arm, putting both of his hands on it. "Here."
When he pulled his hands back, Puck lifted up the sleeve of his shirt and looked at his timer. Ten years with twelve hours.
"A decade," Puck breathed out.
Kurt nodded, feeling his eyes water for a moment. He took a deep breath before placing his hand on Puck's shoulder. "You've been like a brother. It's the least I can do."
As always, Puck caught on quickly, before asking his voice hoarse, "Where are you going?"
"There's only one place," he said breathing out before smiling. "I finally have the time I need to take my dad to New Greenich."
Puck seemed to want to say something, but simply nodded. Kurt looked at him before they both embraced each other in a hug. Kurt stepped back, giving him one more look before walking away.
That night after receiving pay for his work, Burt reached "Anderson Timelenders," the loan agency he'd borrowed money from. It was already nine in the night so the building was closed. Still, they had a twenty-four hours automated teller machine from which he could make his payment. He placed his right arm on the scanner, waited for the machine to pull up his profile before collecting the two days payment.
"Loan payment received, two days," the machine said and Burt walked away.
He headed to where the bus stop was, which arrived shortly afterward. He let a few women go in front of him before he stepped in. "Lima," he told the bus driver moving his arm to the scanner to pay.
"Two hours," the bus told him.
His hand had barely come in contact with the scanner when he pulled it back. The driver gave him a look.
"It's always been one hour," Burt said trying to keep his voice from shaking.
"Well, now it's two, price went up," the driver explained.
"Since when?" Burt asked.
"Today."
Burt was trying hard no to panic. He didn't have enough time to pay and make it to Lima. "My son is meeting me," he told the driver, "He can pay the difference."
The driver shook his head. "Can't do that. Policy."
Burt now gave the driver a worried look. "Please. It's a two hour walk." He lifted up his sleeve, looking down at his timer. "I have an hour and a half."
The driver looked away. "Then you better run," he finally said, not meeting his eyes.
Burt gasped before looking at everyone else on the bus. Everyone avoided his gaze, acting as if they hadn't heard anything. No one willing to lend over some time. Burt gave them one final looking before stepping off the bus. The driver closed the door and pulled away. He looked around for anyone, but the place was empty. He had no choice, but to begin running after the bus.
He'd been running for more than an hour when he heard a car behind him. He turned around and yelled, "Stop! Please, stop!"
The car ignored him and sped up. He was close to the bus stop in Lima, but he doubted he'd make it there alive. He looked down at his arm. Twenty-two minutes left. Taking another deep breath he continued running.
Kurt arrived at the bus stop early. He'd dressed in his best clothes. He could not wait to surprise his father. He waited on a bench when he saw the bus turn the corner. He stood up watching the bus pull in front of him before it came to a stop. Four people got off, but none of them were his dad.
Eyebrows furrowed he leaned in to the window to look at the people inside. His dad wasn't on the bus. The bus driver noticing Kurt wasn't going to get in pulled the bus away.
Where was his dad?
He looked at the back of the bus before he began to jog in the direction from which it had come from.
As Burt rounded the corner he saw a man opening up the door to his apartment building. "Please, sir," he called out running to him. The man looked at him before stepping in and closing the door. "No, please help me!"
He stopped at the door and watched the man running down the hallway. No, he thought as he looked down at his timer again. He was down to less than nine minutes.
Kurt had been running for ten minutes when he saw someone turn the corner. The man was running fast.
His heart started beating fast against his chest as he quickened his pace and called out, "Dad?"
"Kurt!" his dad yelled back alarmed.
Run faster, Kurt yelled at his body. He was still thirty feet away and by the way his voice's dad sounded he didn't have much time left.
"Kurt!" his dad called as he continued running to him. "Kurt!"
"Dad!" Kurt yelled back, they were so close, just fifteen feet away.
When he was about eight feet away Kurt extended his hand out to his dad. They'd reached a streetlight, and from the light he could see his dad smiling at him.
He could make it. He was going to make it.
Just as his dad was two feet away he saw him gasp and fall, but Kurt caught his dad in his arms. His dad didn't move as he held him.
"No," Kurt said as tears began to fall from his face. This wasn't happening. "No, dad."
He slid down to the ground so he could take his dad's right arm. The timer which was normally green was now black and full of zeros.
"No!" he wept as he looked at the zeros.
They were so close and he had so much time now. Just a few more seconds, that's all his father had needed. Just a few more seconds and he wouldn't be here in the middle of the street holding his father's dead body. Kurt continued crying as he buried his face in his father's chest. He was gone. He wasn't coming back. His body shook as he looked into his father's face again. He wasn't going to be taking him to Westerville or New Greenich anymore.
Kurt didn't let go of his dad until he'd stop crying which had been a few hours later. He knew the Takers would be coming for his dad any moment now. Takers worked for the government which kept track of the timers. They knew when someone ran out of time and the Takers would pick up the bodies. Kurt didn't know what they did with the bodies, though, if they got buried or burned or what.
Half an hour later a big black van arrived. They looked at Kurt before looking down at Burt. There were two Takers, neither spoke or paid attention to Kurt as they moved toward Burt. Kurt watched the two man put Burt in the back of the van before closing it. They both got in the front, except for one of them who turned back and gave Kurt a sad look. He recognized him, Finn, a guy he'd gone to school with. Kurt simply looked at him before walking away.
Kurt went back to his apartment, closing the door behind him before looking around the small place. His eyes burned as he held back tears before he made his ways to his dad's room. Inside was a queen sized bed, with a dresser on the left wall. He walked slowly to the closet and looked at the few clothes his dad had owned. His attention went to the two boxes at the back and he pulled one of them out. He opened it, looked down at the dresses and blouses that were in there. He pulled out a cream one before sighing and pressing it to his nose. Woman perfume lingered on it and for a moment he could feel his mom with him.
The tears he'd been holding quickly fell. He'd never felt so alone. When his mother had run out of time he'd been devastated, but he still had his dad with him. Now though, he really was alone. He couldn't go to Puck. Puck had his own family to take care of.
"The truth is, there's more than enough. No one has to die before their time."
Jesse's words haunted him. He put away his mother's clothes and pushed the box back inside the closet. He left his deceased parent's room and walked out into the living room. His father could still be alive if it weren't for those rich folk in New Greenich holding all the time in their hands.
That night, when he was going to sleep, he knew what he had to do.
Sebastian Smythe, head of the Timekeepers department, drove out to Lima early morning. He'd been there before, but this time it was for a different reason. This time he was on Timekeeper affairs. He drove into the man-made river, spotting a couple of Timekeeper cars already there.
He pulled up in front of a group of men, two of them were pulling a dead body out of the small stream. They walked away when they saw him step out.
He looked at Nick Benson and Jeff Lynch, two of the best the department had and the reason why he'd requested them to work with him on the case. Nick leaned down to pick up the man's right arm and look at it.
"Thirteen zeros," Nick confirmed before looking up.
"What an unlucky fella," Sebastian said walking past him and placing his hands behind his back.
"The last time anyone saw him alive there was a century on that clock," Nick informed him.
He turned to face him before speaking. "Well around here they kill you for a week."
"What was he doing in this time zone?" Jeff asked looking down at St. James' body.
Nick and Sebastian circled the body, before Nick said, "What I was thinking is that he might have brought this on himself."
"Interesting," Sebastian said before looking at him. "How long have you been keeping time here, Nick?"
"Five years," Nick responded with a shrug.
"Let me know what you think when you've been doing it for fifty," Sebastian said. Nick didn't say anything so he continued, "It doesn't matter why he came here, what matters are the hundred years that came with him."
"There's gotta be a witness," Nick suggested.
"Trust me, no one saw anything."
Jeff finally looked away from the body and faced him, "What would you like us to do, sir?"
"What we always do, follow the time," he said turning his back on them and heading back to his car.
"Hey Seb," a female voice called from the other side of the stream. She was wearing high-heeled boots, stockings, and a very revealing dress. "I'll give you ten minutes for an hour."
Sebastian turned to face her as he opened the door of his car. "When are you going to get out of the game, Santana?" he asked. "You'll be pushing sixty soon," he added with a wink.
"Thanks for letting everyone know," Santana answered sarcastically.
He grinned at her before looking up at the bridge a few feet away and that's when he saw a camera there. Bingo, he thought before calling Jeff over.
"Thank you," Kurt said hanging up the phone.
An hour later he stepped out of his room wearing the same suit he'd worn when he'd graduated from high school. It fit him better now than it had back then. Maybe since he'd begun working out afterward at his father's suggestion. He looked around his apartment one more time before heading out. He was leaving and never coming back. There was no more reason for him to stay there.
He walked outside his building and tried to look casual as he stood in the corner waiting for his ride out of Lima. Ten minutes later a black limousine pulled up across from him. He walked over to where the driver was with all the windows rolled up.
The driver spoke through an intercom, "Am I in the right place?"
Kurt looked around before pulling up his sleeve and showing him his timer. The driver looked at it before nodding. He unlocked the back door from inside and it opened itself. Kurt walked to it and with one last look at Lima he got in. The driver immediately pulled away, heading towards the border of the city.
"We don't normally do pick-ups in this zone," the driver informed him.
"I was lost," Kurt said in a monotone voice.
A few moments later the driver paused as they reached the check-out point of the city. Another way for the government to keep track of people. The reason so many people lived segregated was because in order to leave or move to another time zone you had to pay at the check-out points.
The TimeHolder inside the car automatically synced itself to the check-out point before stating, "Please deposit one month."
Kurt looked at the driver before putting his right wrist into the scanner. He watched as four weeks were taken away. And so it went, Kurt paying a month at each check-out point until they reached timezone eight, he paid two months there instead of one. And as the timezone's followed the more the price went up.
At timezone number four, Kurt simply paid without waiting to hear the price. He looked down at his hand afterward. "That was a year," he said surprised looking up front.
"Welcome to New Greenich," the driver said turning his head to right briefly. "What are you really doing here?"
Kurt stared straight ahead quietly.
"I'm gonna take them for everything they've got," he said to the driver before adding to himself, "I'm gonna make them pay."
New Greenich was perfect in Kurt's opinion. Tall skyscrapers. Clean streets. Everyone dressed in fancy clothing. Everything about New Greenich screamed out rich and wealthy.
The driver took him to the third tallest skyscraper. "Best hotel in New Greenich," he said with a smirk.
Kurt didn't say anything as he paid him and got out of the limousine. All the men around him were wearing expensive suits, like the one Jesse had been wearing. His looked shabby compared to their shiny ones. All the women wore fitted dresses and walked with men in black suits behind them. He noticed that the men did too.
The driver had left him a few feet away from the entrance so Kurt began to jog towards the entrance before stopping. You have time, he told himself. Needing reassurance he looked down at his timer. He still had over a century left. He looked up and walked at a normal pace towards the front door. He looked around, hoping no one had noticed. Everyone kept going about their business, except for one man.
He was standing at the door of his limousine looking at him. His hazel eyes seemed to shine, as they followed Kurt's gaze. He was wearing gray dressing pants, a striped cardigan from which he could see a white sleeved shirt underneath, and a dark gray bow tie. Kurt only broke the gaze to face the hotel doors and open them. When he looked back the man was still looking at him until a taller man, holding the door for him with an earpiece, leaned in and said something. He said something back before getting inside the limousine. Even through the tinted windows Kurt could feel the man's gaze so he stepped inside the hotel.
Kurt looked outside through the glass walls and saw the limousine drive away. He walked to the front counter where a man and women were standing behind it.
"What does a night here cost?" he asked hoping he didn't sound nervous.
"Two months," the man said, "for a standard room."
Kurt looked around him then at the all the people dressed in their expensive clothes before turning back, holding out his wrist and declaring, "Give me a suite."
The man and woman glanced at each other, before the man nodded. The women began to type away at the computer in front of her and the man took out a TimeHolder. He placed it on Kurt's wrist and collected eleven months. The woman passed him over a key, before the man spoke, "Would you like some help with your bags?"
Kurt shook his head. Did being rich make you dumb? he asked himself. Didn't the man see he didn't have any with him?
"No," he said giving him a look and walking in the direction of the elevators.
Outside of New Greenich, Sebastian and his team sat in a desk looking at the laptop with the recovered footage from the camera at the bridge. They saw a man reach the bridge, look down, stay a moment before looking at the camera and then run away. That had to be who they were looking for, Sebastian was sure of it.
"He's fast," Nick stated.
"He's going to have to be," Sebastian said before standing up and glancing at the screen board that showed how much each time a zone had per capita. Time zone twelve remained at less than two years and a half.
"Too bad the camera doesn't show how the body got into the river," Jeff said from next to Nick.
"What do we really know?" asked Nick.
"What do we know?" Sebastian asked back before answering, "We know that most thefts in Lima amount to hours or days. But this was a century." He turned to another screen that showed a map of the country with lines, each keeping track of large amounts of time. "I don't see anymore in circulation."
"He could have capsuled the time," Jeff said referring to the TimeHolders.
Sebastian shook his head. "You can't hide a hundred years in the ghetto. I can sense when a man has a month's more than he should." Then it hit him. "That's why he left town," he said out loud to himself.
Without another word he left Nick and Jeff and went to his office. He was going to find that man and he was going to take away the time he'd stolen from St. James. No man from timezone twelve deserved that much time.