I heard one of Taylor Swift's less popular songs, hell, I think it was leaked. Anyway, I instantly thought of Papa Hummel and our favorite Kurtsie. I usually don't have an instant connection to a fandom with a song, so this is a huge moment to my obsession spiraling into much more. Oh well. I hope it's a wonderful fall into the never ending Kurt-centric fandom.
Disclaimer: I only borrow the characters to play with, and I don't own the song used as inspiration, which is Brought Up That Way by Taylor Swift. And, I decided to add the lyrics (regardless about being about a girl named Emily) because of the parallels between the song and the fic, even though I kind of spun away from the lyrics towards the middle.
Note: I have a tendency to write Burt as Burst out of habit for some reason, so if you see it, I'm sorry. I tried to catch as many as I could. And, I've never written any other character than Kurt / Blaine (who I'm still hesitant with their personalities), so I apologize in advance for any out-of-character moments. Also, any spelling / grammar mistakes are mine!
/rambly author's note
Burt knew that his son was an expert actor. He could fool anyone into thinking that he was perfectly fine, when his heart was really breaking. He knew how to tug at emotions, leaving everyone in the room feeling like his own personal marionette. This fact alone caused Burt to be stunned speechless when Kurt's real emotions showed through the cracks of his ever-present façade.
It was a week before his wedding to Carole, and his son was slamming door and blasting music to drown out everyone else. Burt wrote it off as teenage-filled angst, expecting there to be a bout or two of it while Kurt was going through high school. However, learning how to dance in the McKinley music room showed Burt the real reason behind his son's change of emotion.
Emily comes home from school
Grabs onto her daddy's hand
He says, "Baby girl, what's wrong with you?"
She says, "Please don't make me go back there again."
"Dad, I don't want to talk to Coach Sylvester," Kurt protested as his father broke the news of the meeting with Dave Karofsky and his parents with Acting Principal Sue Sylvester. The entire Coach title was because of his stint with the Cheerios, and old habits die hard.
"You don't have a choice," Burt furiously said, wondering why his son was so resistant about getting his tormenter expelled, which talking to Sue, seemed like a very viable option.
"I know, for a fact, that this little 'meeting' won't stop him from doing anything," Kurt said, with a tone of condescendence tingeing his voice.
"Kurt, I did not bring you up, so everyone could push you around," Burt let out, as Carole reached for her husband's hand, in an attempt to calm him down.
"It hardly phases you after the first month or two," Kurt admitted, noting that he had been accustomed to bringing a change of clothes for after his afternoon slushie facial, and the bruises from locker slamming hardly phased him anymore. The only this that still stung after all this time was fag, but he was even starting to accept that.
"Kurt, don't you think you're being irrational?" Finn interjected, using a large word which he learned from Berry's constant rants about what was wrong with Finn and Glee Club as a whole.
"You know what I think is irrational?" Kurt rhetorically asked, and answered before anyone could process the question, "The fact that God, or whoever, made me gay, then decided that I should get bashed for it all the time. That's irrationality at its finest."
Then, Kurt stormed out of the room, in a very Rachel-esque way. He smirked to himself, thinking that Berry would have been proud of his theatrics as he stomped himself away from his family.
She said, "I wish there was some way to make them stop it."
So he drives down to that principal's office
And says, "I didn't bring her up so they could cut her down
I didn't bring her here so they could shut her out
I'd live my whole damn life to see that little girl smile
So why are tears pouring down that sweet face?
She wasn't brought up that way."
"The school board's overruled Dave Karofsky's expulsion," Sue Sylvester's words continued to reverberate in Burt's head. In the time from Karofsky's existence being taken out of the McKinley hallways, Kurt's smile found its way back onto his face. And, he hated the idea of his son's smile slipping away again.
"What do you think we should do?" Burt asked Carole, who was curled up against him as a movie idly played on the television screen in the living room.
"Do you remember that school that Finn mentioned?" Carole asked, trying to put her finger on the all boy's school that Kurt had spied on, when his ideas for his mash up ideas went unappreciated.
"What about it?" Burt asked, not remembering the name, but he was sure that he could always ask when the boys woke up.
"Dalton!" Carole exclaimed, as the name popped into her head, "That's it, right?"
"It sounds familiar," Burt said, trying to figure whether Dalton was the school, or was mentioned somewhere else. For all he knew, Dalton could have been the name of the cashier in the Whole Foods store that Kurt made them shop at.
"It's a private school," Carole said, remembering pieces of the conversation over dinner they had about the school; Burt winced at the type of school it was, knowing that it usually came with a hefty price tag, "We don't need a honeymoon. We need Kurt to be safe."
"We can look into it in the morning," Burt promised, as he eased himself into watching the movie which was previously playing without an audience, "Even if we got information on the school tonight, we wouldn't be able to call for details until tomorrow."
Emily's home late again
He sees that boy drive away
Oh but something's different this time
She doesn't have too much to say
She said, "He tried but there's just some things I won't do"
And through the tears she said, "I couldn't do that to you"
"Hey fairy, I heard you're skipping town," Karofsky sneered, knocking his broad shoulder into the lithely boy, causing him to stumble into the lockers.
Kurt didn't say anything back because it would do him no good. He just continued to empty the contents of his locker into one of his old JanSport backpacks, so he only had to make one trip back into this horrid school, which he had grown to hate over the past few weeks.
"I'm talking to you, fag," Karofsky venomously said, anticipating a snarky retort from Kurt, which failed to be delivered.
The smaller boy was instantly regretting staying after Glee to clean out his locker, insisting that he would be fine alone. Now, it was just him and Karofsky, and their track record for being alone wasn't that fabulous. Kurt would be lying if he said that he wasn't scared, but he was not about to show his tormentor that emotion.
"I don't care where you go. I will be able to find you. And, if you tell anyone, I will kill you," Karofsky said, his face inching dangerously close to Kurt's, which was already pressed up against his locker. Then, his fist slammed into the metal centimeters away from the countertenor's head.
Kurt nodded, staying tightlipped to every come back that he had yearned to say, but bit his tongue because he didn't want to make this more complicated than it already was. Karofsky stalked off down the hallways after watching Kurt squirm, instilling a good dose of fear in the cherub faced boy.
After throwing the contents of his locker into his backpack, he nearly ran off to his car which was parked in the far lot. He took in a breath of relief as he managed to avoid Karofsky in the parking lot. He turned the key in the ignition, and proceeded to breakdown. He was supposed to be leaving McKinley with a sense of relief, instead of a rush of fright.
The sun was starting to set, a sure sign that he should be heading home, but he wasn't ready to face his family. He opted to mindlessly drive around his neighborhood. Kurt parked his car in the driveway just minutes after eight, nearly two hours after he was expected home.
"Do you know how close we were to calling the cops?" Finn was the first to jump on Kurt's case as he walked in the front door. His father was looking particularly distressed sitting in his recliner that was older than Kurt himself.
"Where were you?" Burt calmly asked, even though it felt as if he was teetering on the yellow lines of a highway. On one side, he wanted to ream his son for not calling about expecting a late arrival. On the other hand, he wanted to smother his in a hug for coming home safe.
"I just needed to clear my head. I went for a drive," Kurt said, shrugging his shoulder, trying not to make a big deal about it, "Anyway, I need to get my energy together for my first day at Dalton. I'll just head to bed."
"Do you want dinner, dear?" Carole called at Kurt's retreating figure, which ignored her question as he went down the steps to his shared room with Finn.
And he said, "I didn't bring you up so he could wear you down
Take that innocent heart and turn it inside out
I'd live my whole damn life to see my little girl smile
So don't let nobody take that away
You weren't brought up that way."
"Have a good first day, bud," Burt said, only after checking everything under the engine a second time before his son left for his first classes at Dalton. He was a day student at the school in Westerville, which was nearly two hours away. The tuition was steep enough, without adding room and board.
"I will," Kurt said, as his father swiftly wrapped his arms around his son, as the sun started to cast its rays onto the yard.
"Drive safe, sweetheart," Carole said, as Kurt promised that he would. He pretended to be flustered as she straightened his tie for him, which he knew was perfect, but enjoyed the attention.
Kurt sighed, getting into his car, watching as his dad and Carole waved him off from the little front porch. He didn't blame Finn for not being up at this hour. The sun was just starting to rise over the horizon. He promptly connected his iPod to his speaker system, and started to blast the playlist especially made for driving. It was full of songs that he could sing to without making a real effort.
First class started at eight on the dot, which meant that Kurt had made it to the school fifteen minutes early. He decided to study the map for a second, trying to memorize where his classes were, so he didn't look like a Freshman with his nose buried in the paper. His phone lit up with a text message from Blaine, who he had nearly forgotten to tell about the transfer with all of the Karofsky drama.
His fingers nimbly pressed the call button, ignoring Blaine's burst of courage, which seemed unnecessary at this point. He had used his courage, and it ended up –
"Kurt?" Blaine's voice tentatively came through the speaker in Kurt's ear, as the boy on the other end of the line tried to shush the people around him.
"The one and only," Kurt lamely joked, as he tried to figure out where his AP English class would be located on the large campus.
"Are you okay?" Blaine instantly asked, his voice drenched with worry. Kurt held back his laughter, considering he didn't think he'd need to worry about being bullied here because of the zero tolerance for bullying. It was a major selling point for the school when his dad and Carole were looking into alternatives to McKinley.
"I'm fine. In fact, I'm at Dalton," Kurt said, trying to keep his answers vague, considering he had neglected to tell the lead Warbler about his change of schools.
"Trying to do more spying?" Blaine asked, his voice coming across as light and playful. And, Kurt would have been lying if he said that his stomach didn't flip at this.
"Not quite. Though, I do think I fit in better this time around," Kurt said, looking down at the standard Dalton uniform which he had grown to detest in his two hours of wearing it. He got out of his car, locking the doors, and heading off to his first class at Dalton.
"So, you have to tell me, why are you back here?" Blaine asked, as the background noise disappeared. Kurt walked on the pathway, filled with trepidation.
"I transferred," Kurt nonchalantly said, passing the first building, knowing that he had to go into the next one to get to his English room.
"You what?" Blaine asked, his voice full of unadulterated shock, before the questions started to roll off of his tongue. Kurt could barely catch every word that came through the other end of the line.
"I have to go, Blaine. The bell is about to ring, and I've found my English class," Kurt said, ending the phone call with a smile. He went to enter his classroom, as someone walked out, knocking into him. It was unfair at the amount Kurt shuddered, even after the kid who had walked into his apologized. He was at a safe school, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Karofsky was still lingering around.
The phone rings on a rainy night
Says, "It's Officer Tate"
He said, "Sir, there's been an accident
You'd better come down here right away
A drunken driver missed an overpass
And Emily she's fading fast."
The kitchen phone started incessantly ringing, while Carole was preparing dinner, as the rain spattered against the window. She trembled at the thought that Kurt would be driving home in this horrid weather.
"Hello?" Carole answered the phone, cradling it between her head and shoulder while she continued to peel the pile of carrots in front of her.
"Is this Mr. or Mrs. Hummel?" An official sounding voice rang through the phone.
"Yes," Carole simply answered, not wanting to amuse a telemarketer or something; she was thinking that she should have checked the Caller ID before simply picking up.
"It's about Kurt Hummel," The voice swirled in her ear, as she dropped the carrot she was peeling, just staring out at the winter rain shower that was going on outside, "There was an assault. He's been taken to Mercy General in Westerville."
"Who is it?" Burt asked, after hearing clanking in the kitchen sink. He walked into the room with Carole looking pale, and shocked, just staring out into the storm.
"He's currently in the Intensive Care Unit," The voice offered, as if that would ease the pain of the news she was delivering, "Unfortunately, that's all the details we can give you at this moment."
"Thank you," Carole shakily said, as the voice wished her a good night, which made the woman in the kitchen scoff.
"Who was it?" Burt asked, as Carole hung up the phone, trying to judge whether this was real or not.
"Kurt's at Mercy General in Westerville," Carole repeated the words she had heard minutes earlier. Burt quickly slipped into his jacket, taking off out the front door, as Finn immediately ran out with his stepdad. Carole joined them in the car minutes later, leaving dinner abandoned.
He says, "God I didn't bring her up to watch them lay her down
Nearly killed me the day they put her mama in the ground
Only thing that kept me alive was that little girls smile
So please don't take that away
It won't be easy taking her today, she wasn't brought up that way"
"Your son was found by his friend, Blaine, outside in the rain in the Dalton parking lot –" Dr. Taylor filled in Burt and Carole, who had sent Finn off to watch the TV in the waiting room with Kurt's Dalton friend, Blaine.
"Can I see him?" Burt asked, just wanting to see his son. He didn't care if he would see his dying breath; he just needed to be there for him.
The only thing keeping Burt semi-sane at this point was Carole's comforting motions that she was rubbing on the back of his hand with her thumb. He kept having flashbacks to when his wife was killed by a drunk driver. Kurt was the only piece he had left of her, and he was not about to lose him, too. In fact, Kurt had been the sole reason that Burt didn't lose all hope after he lost his wife.
"He's been put into a medical coma to help ease the pain of his shattered leg, which was pinned back into place. And, we're doing our best to monitor his cerebral hemorrhaging," Dr. Taylor, as a police officer walked over to their little conference, "I will keep you posted with his condition."
"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Hummel," The male police office shook hands with the couple, "I'm Officer Daniels. I was just wondering if you would be pressing charges against Dave Karofsky."
"He did it?" Burt nearly shouted, his blood boiling over the edge. He hardly noticed Carole's thumb drawing intricate patterns on the back of his hand.
"Blaine, the young man who found Kurt, gave us reason to believe that Kurt had been attacked by Dave Karofsky, due to the harassment back at his old school," Officer Daniels calmly explained, "I can give you some time to think about it, but the quicker you decide, the more effective the evidence will be."
"If Karofsky did it, then I'd like to press charges," Burt finally said, trying to keep his voice steady. He felt like he was on an emotional rollercoaster that he wasn't properly strapped onto.
"All I needed was your word to start building a case. I'll be in contact with you," Officer Daniels said, before following Dr. Taylor off to Kurt's room in the ICU wing. Carole led Burt over to the chairs near Finn and Blaine, who were idly watching the news.
Burt sank in his chair, thinking about how he could not lower another member of his family into the ground. Carole was quick to wrap her arm over her husband's shoulder, as Blaine opened his mouth to talk, before reclosing it. She watched him do this several times, before finally speaking.
"I feel that this is partially my fault," Blaine slowly said, thinking back to how he wanted to walk Kurt back to his car in the rain, but Kurt insisted that he didn't need his friend to get all wet from walking in the torrential downpour.
"Were you a part of beating him up?" Burt asked, lifting his head enough to see Blaine shake his head in shock at the accusation, "Then, it's not your fault."
Blaine didn't know what to say to that, so he simply didn't. The silence that fell between the four of them was palpable enough to be sliced with a spoon. Their minds were all in different places, but revolved around the recovering boy in the white, sterile hospital ICU room.
He stands over the hospital bed
Emily opens her eyes
Burt had rented a small room at a shanty motel near Mercy General, just to be close for any news to come their way about the small boy in the medical induced coma. Carole and Finn had returned to Lima, after much persuading by Burt that they didn't need to stick around while Kurt just laid in the bed. Besides, they hadn't even allowed Burt into the room yet. He was still too unstable for outside figures.
The cell phone violently vibrated on the end table, just threatening to topple off the edge. It was Mercy General; Burt immediately recognized the phone number, praying for good news. It had been a week of staying in this rundown motel, and he was getting sick of it.
"Hello, Burt Hummel speaking," Burt answered his phone, turning off the TV, which was boring him to death.
"Hi Mr. Hummel, it's Dr. Taylor," Dr. Taylor went through their normal formalities, "We took Kurt out of his coma today, and gave him morphine to subdue the pain. He's up for a short visit."
"I'll be there in five minutes," Burt said, grabbing his keys, and heading for the door. This was the moment he's been waiting for.
The second the keys turned in the ignition, Burt was out of the parking lot, hitting every green light on his way to the hospital parking. He went into the parking garage, not caring how far he'd have to walk. In fact, he was pretty sure that he would have walked all the way from Lima if it was the only way to reach his son.
"It'll have to be a short visit, since there is only a small window of time between morphine shots," Dr. Taylor said, pushing buttons to open doors as Burt had to speed walk to keep up with her stride, "He may be a little out of it because of the amount of morphine pumping through his system. Other than that, he's been doing well so far."
"Thank you," Burt said, walking over the threshold that Dr. Taylor had opened the door to.
"I'll be back in five minutes to check on you guys," Dr. Taylor said, as Burt walked into the individual ICU room, listening to the steady beeping of the heart monitor, "And, if he keeps up with the progress that he's been showing this morning, he should be back home in no time."
Burt was now alone in the sterilized hospital room, with his son's chest steadily rising and falling under the thin sheet wrapped over his body. He barely looked like himself, since his hair was disheveled, and he looked paler than normal. The amount of machines that had been hooked up to was worrying Burt. But, Dr. Taylor said that he was making progress.
The chair was placed ostentatiously in the corner, away from the bed, so Burt fetched it to join Kurt alongside the bed. He wrapped his hands around Kurt's smooth hand, thinking back to the reversed rolls just a month ago after his heart attack. He remembered Kurt telling him that he was talking to Burt moments before he snapped out of his entire near death experience.
"Kurt, I think your mother would be proud of how far you've come since she's left us. Do you remember the days I spent having tea parties with you? Because I do. I don't think there's a day I go without thinking of those silly little sandwiches, and tea cups the size of my pinky nail," Burt laughed, in spite of himself, "I think she'd be most proud at how strong you are."
Burt had to stop talking because of the swell of emotions filling his chest. He was not a man who cried often, so each time he did, it meant more than anything in the world. He could only remember four times he's ever cried; the night of his parents' divorce, his short breakup with Kurt's mother, the death of his wife, and the news of his son being in critical condition.
"After your mom died, I had just about given up on life. But, every morning, you'd have a smile on your little face, even though I knew it was killing you on the inside. You gave me the strength to carry on," Burt paused, hearing Kurt stir a bit in the hospital issued sheets and less than fashionable hospital gown. Burt stopped all but breathing, as his son's eyelids gently fluttered open.
"Dad..." Kurt's croaked, as Burt promptly had tears stinging his eyes. He swiped the ones threatening to spill down his cheeks away with a swift movement of his hand.
"I'm right here, bud," Burt said, squeezing his hand around his son's.
I don't think I have ever written such a long oneshot. And, it's past two in the morning here. I am exhausted, but I had to finish this. I am about to pass out from exhaustion. The only way I will be able to justify the dark circles under my eyes is through a massive amount of reviews due to my dedication.