Summary: A part of "The road of life". What happened in Lima.
Title: Where the path splits
Warning: Perceived character death, angst
Beta: Many thanks to jwmelmoth. All mistakes are mine
Disclaimer: Glee is not mine
Burt Hummel looked at his watch and frowned. It was 11 pm on Sunday night, and Kurt was nowhere in sight. Finn had gone to bed, and Carole was getting ready for bed, whilst Burt waited for his son. Kurt was very rarely too late for his curfew, and Burt didn't like it, but Kurt was driving from Westerville so he might be stuck in traffic. Burt sat back into the couch again, giving his son a little more time.
15 minutes later, he was getting annoyed and a little worried, so he picked up his phone and pressed the first speed dial, listening as the phone rang.
'Hi, you've reached Kurt Hummel, leave me your name and number and I'll call you back!'
"Hey, kid, where're you at? It's a quarter past 11, get your ass home."
Burt hung up with a sigh. He hoped that Kurt hadn't answered simply because he was driving and Burt had driven it into his brain to not talk on the phone and drive at the same time. He tried to relax, though he was building up for a rant when Kurt finally did make it home.
As the time crawled closer to 11.30, Burt's stomach clenched. This was not like Kurt at all! His son hated being late for anything, even his own curfew. He started calling Kurt for the fourth time, and he prayed that he had just turned off the sound and forgotten to turn it back on again. When the familiar voice message cut off the ringing, Burt hung up and looked through his list for Kurt's friends from Dalton. He couldn't wait any longer. As he found the right number and the phone dialed, he walked back and forth on the carpet behind the couch.
"Hello?" the slightly gruffy voice of Blaine Anderson answered on the third ring.
"Blaine, hi, it's Burt Hummel, I was just wondering if Kurt had left Dalton, he hasn't come home yet."
Burt could hear some movement in the background, as if Blaine was sitting down on his bed. "What? What do you mean?"
"I mean his curfew ended half an hour ago, I've been calling his phone, but I can't get a hold of him. When did he leave Dalton?"
The voice that came through the other end was weak and panicky all at once. "...on Friday."
"What?" Burt could felt his stomach clench, and it felt like he had swallowed a stone.
"We had a fight, Kurt left on Friday evening. I've been calling him for two days, but he hasn't picked up."
Burt sat down on the couch, forcing himself to keep breathing as he started to panic. "He hasn't come home." His voice was tight as he tried to think of possible places Kurt could have gone. "Okay, he probably went to one of his friends. I will call them, he's probably there."
Twelve minutes later, Burt was in full panic mode. He had just hung up on Puckerman, the last of Kurt friends he had called, and no one knew where his son was. No one. His son was missing.
Burt sighs. The next few hours of that first night are a blur. Carole had come down to look for him, and had found him a raging mess. When she had managed to get what was happening, she called the cops and got everything rolling. Finn wandered down as the police cars stopped outside, and Burt can vaguely remember his stepson's panicky voice, but he had felt too numb to react.
He thinks he managed to give the policeman what he needed, hopes he did, but his mind just keeps looping about what could have happened.
The days after that all blend into each other. Burt remembers crying glee members, but he doesn't have anything to give them. All he knows is that Kurt is not there.
On Wednesday, they find his car. The only reason Burt knows it was Wednesday was because the officer he was talking to was standing right in front of their day calendar, and someone had taken the time to tear down the days. Kurt usually did that.
They had found Kurt's navigator, or what was left of it. It had been on fire, but it had been put out early enough to find Kurt's ID and phone. Burt had tried to prepare himself in case this was coming, but there was no way he could have been prepared for this. There was a body inside the car, and they said it was his son.
The body that was burnt so badly there was no way to know if it was actually Kurt or not, and as the person had the same build and height as his son, and it was his car, they presumed it was him.
Burt didn't want to presume. It didn't feel right. It didn't feel like his son.
The guys in the lab said there was a leak in the gas tank. That Kurt probably lit a match to smoke, or that something else sparked and ignited the tank.
Burt knew his son. His son would never let the maintenance on his car go. His son would never smoke. But the police didn't listen to that. They were certain, and the case turned from missing person to accident.
It was at total a week from the report went out til it was ruled accidental.
Burt never quite believed it was Kurt.
*WHERE THE PATH SPLITS*
Mario praised his luck for finding the navigator on the side of the road. It had been crashed into a tree, but the engine still worked, and with a little help from a buddy, the car was soon on the road again. It was a nice car, and Mario would have liked to have kept it, but it would probably be reported soon, and he really needed something to get rid of the last... cleanup.
He passed through Columbus before he found what he was looking for; a nice, secluded spot where he could get rid of the incriminating 'trash' in the trunk. He hauled the body into the driver's seat before dousing the car in gasoline. With one last look at the scene, he light a match and watched as the car caught on fire.
He didn't see the nearby house, but by the time the firemen arrived and put out the fire, he was long gone anyways.