Uprooting

Title: Uprooting

Rating: Teen

Author: Jen

Warnings: Spoilers for 2.08 "Furt"

The only saving grace that Kurt felt, after witnessing the looks of disappointment and heartbreak on the faces of his friends, was that leaving McKinley right away meant going home to pack. It meant he could step away from Finn's crestfallen expression with a genuine excuse, and burry himself in his basement bedroom with cardboard boxes surrounding him. It meant, if only for a short while, he could be alone.

And there was packing to do. Dalton was ninety miles away, and boarding up had been Kurt's only option. In all actuality, he would have preferred to be a day student, maybe more for his father than for himself. But he'd had to face the reality of the situation. He would only be able to come home on the weekends, and that meant he needed to sort through his things and figure out which of them could be taken and which needed to remain.

He gave a shuddering breath as he pulled open his closet, fingers reaching out tentatively to brush over brightly colored fabrics, varied in their textures but not in their value. Most of his clothing would have to remain. Dalton had already assured him there'd be a fresh set of uniforms waiting for him the following morning, and he was expected to adhere to the strict dress code. Kurt's clothing, items that had once defined him, were expressions of the past.

Kurt lingered on a blue, McQueen scarf, and after a moment, pulled it free from the closet. It was the scarf he'd worn a year previous during his performance of Rose's Turn. It was precious to him, and he remembered quite clearly as he and his father had left the auditorium, his father had tugged playfully at it and asked if Kurt had put them in debt over the print. No, Kurt decided, some things couldn't be left behind. The scarf went with him. He'd tuck it under his pillow and when he was lonely at night he'd take it out and remember.

"I've got some more boxes!"

Kurt turned away from his clothing as he spied his father's heavy boots coming down the stairs. "Thanks," he mumbled, and closed his closet doors. He wondered if there'd be a time where he could look at his father without feeling shame, or as if he'd stolen from the man who'd always given him everything he'd ever asked for, and then things he hadn't.

"So I was thinking," his father continued, setting a box down on Kurt's bed, "I'm pretty sure we can get all your stuff up to Dalton if you take the Navigator and I follow in my truck. Carol can work a late shift tomorrow, and she can come with us to drive the Navigator back."

There was a burning sensation at his eyes, a sure sign of tears, but Kurt balled his fists and put on a brave front. "That sounds great. But I don't think I'll end up taking that much anyway."

Burt was quite for a moment, then reassured, "It's not like Carole and I are going to turn your bedroom into the guest room with you gone. You don't have to be afraid to take the things that you like best."

Kurt shook his head. "Really. I have to leave my clothes behind, and I won't have a need for most of the things I own. I'll take my toiletries, and some personal items, but aside from that, I'll be taken care of."

A smile started on Burt's face and he reached into his back pocket. He withdrew his wallet and fished out a plastic card. Holding it out to Kurt he said, "I want you to take the American Express. You charge whatever you need. I want you to make that room over at Dalton as comfortable as you can."

There were policies on room upkeep, Kurt almost told his father. Nothing could be tacked up, the walls couldn't be damaged, and there was a list of things the length Kurt's arm long that were predetermined to be unacceptable. But regardless, Kurt took the card and thanked his father. "That's very generous of you, dad."

"Kurt," his father said gently, "this is what you want, right?"

Kurt felt himself choke a little on his answer as he confessed, "Not really." Then he was tearing up, because he didn't want to leave McKinley. The school was rough, he wasn't treated with respect, and there was no challenge for him, aside from avoiding the slushie flavor of the day, but it was a place he'd invested in. He had the glee club, and his friends, and he knew now, without a single doubt, that they'd stuck up for him because they were friends, and not because of a sense of club obligation. He was leaving the only people who truly cared about him enough to become involved in his personal affairs with Karofsky, and it stung. They'd gone out on a limb for him and he felt like he was letting them down. He knew he was.

"Then Kurt-" with a sigh, Burt rubbed the back of his head. "I thought Dalton was what you wanted. I was so sure, when I told Carol, and then we decided to enroll you. All you can talk about lately is that school, and that kid, what's his name?"

"Blaine," Kurt said with a sniffle.

"I hope you don't think," Burt said tightly, "that I'm letting my kid traipse off ninety miles away from me because I think it's a good idea. I'd rather have you here, Kurt, where I can keep an eye on you, and you can make me those organic dinners that I hate so much, and we can watch Vin Diesel movies, albeit for very different reasons." His father took several confident steps to Kurt and settled his hands on the teen's narrow shoulders. "I always want you by my side, and if Dalton isn't where you want to be, then tell me now. I don't think it's too late to pull you from there."

"I feel," Kurt said, taking a deep breath and leaning forward, resting his forehead on his father's shoulder, "like I'm doing the very thing Blaine said he regretted." His father was patient and quite until Kurt elaborated, "I'm running from a bully. I'm letting someone else control my life. I'm folding under the pressure."

"Hey," his father soothed, one hand already curling around the back of Kurt's neck protectively. "You told me that kid threatened your life. He told you he was going to kill you. That's inexcusable, Kurt. That's not just bullying. That's crossing a line. You have the right to feel safe. You have the right to not have to flinch, or worry, or wonder. That's your god given right, and it's not running away if you're just protecting yourself."

Kurt nodded slowly. "It still feels that way."

With a hoarse laugh, Burt said, "I thought I was going to kill that kid. He threatened you, but I though I was going to be the one to really do it."

Kurt pulled back a bit and questioned, "When?"

But Kurt suspected the moment, and Burt supplied, "At your school, when you first told me he threatened you. You are …" Burt broke off to take a deep breath and hug Kurt tighter. Kurt felt his head tuck under his father's chin and he held still. "You are my son, Kurt. You are the little baby that came too early and freaked me and your mom out by ending up so healthy despite it all. You're my baby boy who seemed determined to run before he could even crawl, forget walking, and who never let anyone tell him he couldn't do or be something just because it wasn't normal. You let me lean on you, Kurt, when your mom died, and it should have been the other way around. To me, you're my world, and when I think about loosing you …"

"Dad," Kurt breathed out, arms flying around Burt's torso and hugging tightly. "I love you."

"I won't let people get away with hurting you," Burt swore. "That's what I thought I was doing when I told you Carole and I wanted you to go to Dalton. You won't be hurt there. You'll be safe, and I want you safe more than I want to be able to tuck you in at night."

Lightly, Kurt teased, "You haven't tucked me in since I was six."

Burt scoffed. "That's what you think, kid."

Kurt was in no rush to let go of his father, and in a moment of honestly, he mentioned, "Karofsky didn't just threaten to kill me."

"Oh?" Burt stiffened.

"Well," Kurt floundered, "this happened before that."

"Kurt," Burt said warningly, "if there's something else, I need to know. I'm your father, and if you can't tell me-"

"I know why Karofsky hates me so much," Kurt rushed out. He refused to meet his father's gaze and continued, "He hates me because I'm out. He hates that I don't care if other people accept me, and he's jealous. He's jealous that I'm happy being who I am, and I am gay. I think it kills him to look at me and know I'm something he can bring himself to be."

Suddenly Kurt was being held to tight, and his father's voice was breathy as he questioned, "Are you telling me-"

"He kissed me," Kurt whispered harshly. "I was yelling at him and he kissed me. It was crushing and horrible and he tried to do it again, but then I pushed him away and I thought he was going to …."

"He kissed you?" Burt demanded, more furious than Kurt had ever seen him before. Suddenly they were detached, and Kurt held his breath. "He kissed you and you didn't tell me?"

"What was I supposed to say?" Kurt asked. "My biggest tormenter kissed me, and I hated it, and how was I going to tell you that?"

Burt jabbed at finger at him and demanded, "You know that's sexual assault, don't you?"

"It was just a kiss."

"No!" Burt caught the sides of Kurt's face in a solid hold, neither hurtful, nor relenting. "That is sexual assault. If you had told me we could have-"

"Could have what?" Kurt wrapped his fingers around one of his father's wrists. "Karofsky had a gay crisis, kissed me out of either some weird sexual attraction, or my sheer proximity and sexual orientation, and then told me he'd kill me if I told anyone. It would have been my word against his. I know that. And we don't live in San Francisco. Karofsky is a jock. He's popular and well feared. There's not a lot of people who'd take my word over his, or even care. I think I'm lucky all he did was kiss me."

There was an odd lag on Burt's face, and Kurt wasn't sure what to think. "Dad?" he asked quietly. "You're starting to worry me. Say something?"

"Did he …" Burt's face twisted. "Kurt, did he ever …" Horrible realization dawned on Kurt. "Was there more than just …"

And the thing was, Kurt couldn't answer quickly or honestly enough. Then he was stumbling after his father who was already halfway up the stairs and headed towards the long hallway at the back of the house. "Dad!" Kurt called out, tripping over a step and having to throw his hands out to brace himself. "Come back! Dad!"

"Don't try and stop me," Burt told him succinctly when Kurt caught up to him. The closet door at the end of the hallway was thrown open and boxes had been pulled down from the top shelf. Kurt dropped to his knees next to his father and with a shaking hand, laid his fingers over his father's where they gripped the hunting rifle.

"Dad," Kurt said softly. "He didn't do any more than that."

Burt's grip on the rifle only tightened. "You don't have to be afraid to tell me." Then Burt reached past Kurt to a shoebox and extracted the ammo. He fought with Kurt for a moment before loosing his grip on the box of ammunition and scattering the bullets at their feet.

"There was a moment," Kurt explained, wrapping his fingers around the rifle and ripping it away. He set it behind him and then it was his turn to put his hands on his father's shoulders. "It was just one moment, and no more. Before then, Karofsky had been intimidating, but he'd kept his distance. This time … he …"

"He what?" Burt ground out.

"He put his finger on me," Kurt said, and he felt a little foolish. After all, it had only been a finger. But then the finger had started to trail downward. "I was scared. I thought … I was certain he was going to …

"Give me my rifle back."

"It's why I said yes to Dalton," Kurt said bluntly. "I used to be scared that Karofsky was going to beat me up, but lately I've been feeling a different kind of scared." He couldn't exactly confess to his father that he was scared to death Karofsky would all too easily be able to force himself on Kurt. But then again Kurt was sure he didn't need to tell his father as much.

"I will kill that boy," Burt vowed, and Kurt believed him, "if he so much as looks at you."

"He won't be at Dalton," Kurt reasoned, absently reaching for the scattered bullets. "In fact there won't be anyone there like him. I'm not saying Dalton is some wonderful, magical place and everyone will love me. But I won't be scared there."

"Then why," Burt asked, looking lost, "do you look like I'm sending you away whenever I mention that place? I just don't understand, Kurt."

Kurt fitted the bullets back into their box and then closed it. He settled the box back where it belonged and got to his feet, picking the rifle up. "Dalton," he explained, "is expensive." The rifle went back up in its place, even though Kurt had to tiptoe his way into getting it there. Then he reached a hand down to his father and helped him up. "That money was for your honeymoon."

"Didn't I explain to you?" Burt wondered. "Carole and I are your parents. I know, she's kind of new at all, at least to you, but she's got a lot of practice in. She's pretty good at knowing the same stuff I do, and the number one rule is that our kids come first. When our kids need something, we don't think twice about ourselves."

"You'd been saving for a long time."

"Since before I ever met Carole," Burt agreed. "But I wasn't saving for that honeymoon. I wasn't saving for anything in particular. Maybe I started out saving for you college, but I kind of figured out about eight grade, when they wanted to put you in advanced classes, that you're pretty much going to scholarship your way out of this place. So the money just became a rainy day fund. You use that kind of money for whatever is most important, and you, Kurt, are what's most important. Did you know Carole's the one who suggested it? She couldn't even stomach the idea of going on a honeymoon knowing that there was something she could do to make your life a little better."

"She did?"

Burt took a deep breath and closed the closet door. "She's not trying to replace your mom, Kurt. That's kind of impossible. But she is going to be a mother figure to you. She's going to think of you first, and love you and want to take care of you. It's probably a good idea to get used to that right now. Plus, the money isn't all gone, and Carole and I booked a nice hotel in Columbus this weekend."

"Then I can trust you to keep the rifle in the closet while I'm gone?"

Reluctantly, Burt nodded. "But I meant what I said. If Karofsky comes near you, I will kill him. I'm not a violent guy, Kurt, I don't like to get that way, but I'll protect my family to the end, and you are worth any of the consequences."

"Well, don't," Kurt chastised, looping one arm around his father's. "I don't think I could stand having to visit you in jail, and I highly doubt Carole would be satisfied with conjugal visits."

Burt's arm tugged free of Kurt's grasp and he wrapped it instead around his son's shoulders, leading him back towards the basement. "Fair enough."

Packing took less than an hour, and after that Kurt lounged on the couch, leaning into Burt's warm form, and together they watched late afternoon TV.

Carole made it home before Finn, and Kurt settled into the kitchen to help her with dinner just before the last member of their family emerged through the front door. Finn gave pause in the doorway to the kitchen, his gaze locked on Kurt's form for what seemed like forever, and then he disappeared into the small study he was calling his own until better arrangement could be made.

"I think I hurt him," Kurt told Carole quietly, prepping tomatoes for the salad. "It took a lot for him to say what he did at the wedding. I think it was first time he was comfortable with us, and then I knocked his feet out from under him."

"He'll be okay," Carole assured, rubbing between Kurt's shoulder blades. "Finn is amazingly strong, more than I could have ever hoped for him. He'll get through this and he'll understand it's for the best sooner or later."

"I hope for sooner," Kurt breathed out.

He didn't sleep much that night, and not even several, well thought out and meaningful texts from Blaine, could help the situation.

Finn left for school before Kurt had finished showering, which was remarkable and frightening all at once. Carole attempted to justify his behavior by telling Kurt, "He told me he had something to do for glee." But it only served to break Kurt's heart a bit more.

"This everything?" Burt asked as they loaded a heavy box into the back of his truck less than an hour later. "Make sure, because we've got that appointment with the dean at noon and we won't have time to come back here for anything. If you forget it now, you'll have to wait until this weekend."

"I'm sure," Kurt said, even though he wasn't.

"Alright," Carole announced, emerging from the house with a folder in hand. "I've got all the paperwork here. We're ready to go, I think."

Kurt pulled open the door to the Navigator and before he could climb in a sharp horn sounded. He turned towards the sound and frowned as he saw Rachel's familiar station wagon barreling down the quiet street. It took Kurt mere moments to realize the station wagon was loaded with glee club members, and there was another car, driven by Santana, following closely after.

"What's going on?" Kurt asked after Rachel had parked and extracted herself from the vehicle. A quick headcount told Kurt that everyone was present. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"You're going away," Mercedes said, arms crossed in what looked to be a defensive manner. "You're going away to a school where we aren't and you think we're just going to let that happen?"

"You can't come with me," Kurt eased out, at least he was pretty sure, considering half of the glee club was female.

"No," Tina said with a nod, "but we can make sure you get there in one piece."

"And check the place out," Mike threw in.

Artie nodded. "For potential threats."

There was a swell of pride in Kurt that was so strong he was certain he was going to burst into tears. He wasn't clear on how he manage to say, "I seriously doubt, with Dalton's strict anti-bully policy, that I will be a target for anyone."

"Never know," Puck said with a casual shrug. "Now shut up and let us do this."

"Yeah," Sam threw in, flashing Kurt a wide smile. "We're all probably going to get detention for skipping out on our classes, Mr. Shue can only cover for us for a couple hours, so we should make this worth it."

"Got a problem with that?" Santana demanded.

"No," Kurt told them, not bothering to fight the smile on his face. "No."

However, the one thing Kurt hadn't anticipated was Rachel shoving Finn towards Kurt's Navigator and hissing lowly at him, "Ride with your brother, Finn Hudson."

Kurt had wanted to protest. Finn wouldn't look at him, there was obviously bad tension between them, and his Navigator could take several of the glee club. But there was no fighting Rachel Berry, and Kurt had learned long ago that it was easier to let her have her way, especially when she was attempting to be considerate.

They were maybe ten miles out of Lima, Kurt's Navigator the first car in a precession of them, when he couldn't bear the awkwardness between them any longer. He opened his mouth to ask what he could do to make his decision up to Finn, when the taller teen surprised him by questioning, "Is this my fault?"

"Your fault?" Kurt wondered aloud. "What are you talking about?"

Finn was looking out the window as he said, "I know I've kind of been a crappy friend. I'm not going to lie, I was totally busy being creeped out by you for a long time, but I let that hurt our friendship. You were always there for me, and I wasn't there for you. I was more worried about me, and what other people would think. I don't know for sure, but a part of me thinks this thing with Karofsky wouldn't have gotten as far as it did if I had been more like Sam."

"Sam?" Kurt laughed. "I'm not trying to denounce what Sam did for me. Standing up for me took a lot of guts, but I'm sure he did it equal amounts for Quinn. So maybe it only half counts. Who knows."

"I wasn't being a good friend," Finn argued. "Is that why … did you think …"

"I transferred," Kurt clarified, "because McKinley never let me feel safe. I have a right to feel safe, and if I can't find that feeling at McKinley, then I have to go somewhere I can find it."

A bit desperately, Finn asked, "What if I swore to protect you? What if I promise to always be there, and to walk you to all your classes and step in front of any slushies and never let anything hurt you?"

"Then I'd say Rachel might be out for my blood."

At that, Finn turned to look at him. "For real. I can protect you, Kurt. You're my brother. I can."

Kurt's fingers tightened on the wheel. "You shouldn't have to, Finn, and that's my point. Karofsky is a bully. He's a bully with some pretty deep seeded emotional issues. Just because my dad nearly beat him up, and regardless if you're there or not, he's not going to stop. He's going to keep tormenting me because it's what he does, and he does it well. I can't deal with that and I won't."

Finn's hands were fitted together in his lap, and he looked down at them morosely. "I don't want you to go away. Me and the glee club, I think we're just starting to get it."

"Get what?"

Finn shrugged. "Well, you know, Puck's kind of like our resident badass. And Rachel's our brain. Mercedes is our diva and Brittany is our funny bone. Everyone is something, and you, you're the heart of the group. Sure, you're pretty hard to deal with, and I don't get what comes out of your mouth most of the time, but you makes us feel good about ourselves. You constantly tell Mercedes she's more than a strong enough singer to contend with Rachel. You took that slushie to the face for me so I wouldn't be picked on by the team. You never cared that Artie was in a wheel chair, or that Quinn was pregnant, or that Tina had a stutter."

"Finn Hudson," Kurt said, shaking his head. "You don't give yourself enough credit."

Bluntly, Finn said, "I don't want to walk into glee club and see an empty seat where you should be. I want to fight with you over the new house our parents want to buy-on that, I don't want to come home to an empty house and see an empty room where you should be."

"I only board on the weekdays," Kurt said gently. "Dad said he'll come get me every Friday afternoon, but maybe you could come get me instead? We could use the opportunity to talk, if you wanted."

"Talk?" Finn asked, and it was the first time Kurt caught a hint of the wetness in his eyes.

"Yes," Kurt said with a small smile. "Because I know you haven't a clue about Rachel half the time, and where would you be without me and my plethora of musical knowledge? Plus, you're going to need me when our parents refuse to acknowledge that they aren't teenagers and things begin to become awkward."

"Dude," Finn said with a sour face.

In the rearview mirror Kurt could see his father's truck, Carole in the passenger seat and the both of them engaged in what looked to be a serious conversation.

"Finn," Kurt eased out, glancing at him, "I need this. I need Dalton. I need to be myself again, and to do that, I need to feel safe and open and unafraid to walk down the hall. Can you understand that? I know I can be selfish, and maybe this is me being that again, but I think I'm going to loose it if I have to spend just one more day in the same school as Karofsky. I need this, Finn, and I'm doing it for me, so I can be happy."

Finn exhaled loudly, slumped a little in his seat and relented, "You deserve to be happy, Kurt." And that seemed to be that.

Life at Dalton was different. There was Blaine, and Wes, and David and the rest of the Warblers who made him feel like he'd been there from the very first day. Kurt got used to the routine of the school, and before long he began to meld in. And he was, like he'd told Finn, happy at Dalton. There was a tugging at his heart whenever he thought of New Directions, but there was an even bigger, quite different tug from the way that Blaine smiled at him, and how they held hands.

"One day," Blaine said as he and Kurt stood outside Dalton's main gates, waiting for Kurt's never prompt Friday night ride, "you're going to take me home to meet your father."

"Maybe," Kurt said bashfully, feeling Blaine's hand squeeze around his own. Before the end of the month, Kurt was confident, they'd share their first kiss.

A car horn sounded and Kurt broke his grip on Blaine's hand. "Gotta go," he said, and then indulged himself in a warm hug. "See you on Monday."

"You know," Finn remarked as Kurt climbed in the Navigator, throwing his bag into the backseat, "the only reason you get away with having a secret boyfriend is because I come and pick you up, and not your dad. If he knew-"

"-he doesn't need to," Kurt interrupted quickly.

"I notice you didn't deny the secret boyfriend part."

"Drive," Kurt said sternly. "And be thankful I let you drive my baby. Your mother let me know about the incident with the mailman."

A flush spread up and along Finn's neck. "I was fifteen. I only had my permit then. The DMV did give me a driver's license last year."

"That," Kurt said, offering a wave to Blaine who'd held out for it, "is what frightens me the most."

"I still kind of feel like I should be weirded out by you having a boyfriend."

"Rather, the more important question is if you feel any stereotypical big brother urges to beat him up. I have to warn you, I'm rather fond of his face as it is now."

Finn arched an eyebrow. "The dude is smaller than you are, so no, not really. Well, maybe, if he hurts you, but he seems really nice, so I kind of get the feeling I won't have to find out."

"Good." Kurt offered him a full smile. "Now, tell me about what new crazy Rachel has been enacting on you."

"I think I'm lucky Dalton is an hour and a half away from home."

Kurt laughed and brightly turned towards Finn. "Don't leave anything out," he instructed. Then he settled in to listen to his brother.