Summary: Kurt and his father are in an accident. No cell service, no one coming from either direction. For the sake of his father, he must find help.
Warnings: Descriptive injuries, angst.
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Part I – Fudgesicles.
"It's not that I don't care, son, I just thought you'd rather I didn't go."
"Well, no. I know you had work, but I had a solo, that's all."
"And I'm sorry I missed it," Burt insisted, letting go of the steering wheel with his right hand for a moment, just so he could pat his son's leg before returning it. "Next time, I'll be there twenty minutes early."
Kurt smiled some, but rather than replying, turned his attention out the window. The droplets of rain shown in the light of the streetlamps, making them sparkle in the dark. Dropping his head back against the headrest, he sighed and listened to the rain drum against the windshield, the wipers swishing back and forth to chase them away. His father's ever-reliable truck sped along the dark road, leading them home through the storm.
"But you did well?"
Green-blue eyes flashed back toward his father, and a smile appeared without his knowing. "Yeah. I'm better than all of them."
Burt grinned, somehow finding comfort in his son's confidence. With all the bullying he suffered, it was good to know he was still strong about something.
"Well then, this calls for a celebration. Fudgesicles when we get home?"
Kurt's smile grew more familiar and appreciative. "Only if you don't eat the whole box before I can get to them."
His father chuckled, shaking his head. "Give me some credit, kid. I saved one for you last time."
"One. Out of twelve. Not fair, dad."
They were coming up upon an intersection, one that would lead them over a three-lane road before continuing along the quiet one they had been on. Kurt couldn't see any headlights through the trees, just the looming red light that hung over the intersection, blinking on and off.
"Alright, fine. I'll save two for you. Happy?"
"Carole probably won't let you eat two yourself, you know."
Burt grinned at this, thinking fondly of his new wife. "But I made sure to buy those fat-free ones."
"That doesn't mean they're good for you," Kurt started, turning his head around as they slowed to a stop. His father glanced both ways, but it was particularly useless; there were no headlights, and through the drilling rain, they couldn't see a thing waiting for them.
So he started forward again. Kurt smiled, a thought coming to his head that he opened his mouth to share, but before the words formed on his tongue, he saw a black shape out of his window. By the time it was close enough for him to recognize it, he only had the breath for one word.
"Dad!"
The oncoming car collided with Kurt's side of the truck, sending them skidding to the left. A cry of shock escaped Kurt's mouth before his window shattered, and the door bent in toward him. He felt the metal hit his arm, pressing it firmly against his side. His father jerked hard on the wheel, a sharp crack shooting through the windshield. Brakes screeched, weight shifted.
The truck's weight skid across the drenched road before flipping. It rolled three times, finally settling to a stop upside-down, in the middle of the three-lane road. The other car, whose headlights had been left off, was motionless several yards away, its hood crunched in beyond belief.
There was a long, terrible silence. The echoes of the accident were numbed by the drilling rain, blotting out whatever snaps and crackles came in the aftermath of the crash.
Above the scene, the red light blinked on, off, on, off, its light casting an eerie glow over the two still cars.
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