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Chapter 2

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The doctor was talking, letting Mrs. Hudson, Finn and Kurt know what was going on. Mercedes was only halfway paying attention because she just couldn't stop staring at her best friend, who looked like he was listening to the divine word of Versace or something – absorbing everything like a sponge.

What little Mercedes had heard had made her feel sick: Mr. Hummel had been getting into his car when lightning had struck a nearby tree, sending a huge limb crashing down onto it – and him. One of the branches had actually pierced his body. She'd had to put a hand to her mouth to smother a distressed noise – and then she'd turned to look at Kurt and he still had that look of complete and utter single-minded concentration.

It was a scary intense thing to behold. Mercedes had learned (by way of cramming sessions the nights before exams) that when he put his mind to it, Kurt could memorize things after just one listen or read through and recite them back word for word. He was freaky like that. But that intensity, coupled with his anxiety and fragile state of being . . . Mercedes kept her focus on him, because she was scared that at any second, her best friend was going to have a nervous breakdown of pretty damn epic proportions.

"The surgery is going well, but he's not out of danger yet. There was a severe degree of blood loss and the branch did a lot of damage going in."

Kurt had his arms crossed, standing statue-still, but his mask was cracking a bit. Mercedes could see it. Finn had an arm around his mother, but he kept shooting glances at Kurt.

"But he's got another couple of hours of surgery left," Mrs. Hudson said quietly. "So you will be able to repair that damage, right?"

The doctor smiled in a detached sort of way. "Hopefully, provided every thing goes to plan. He was incredibly lucky in one aspect – most of the internal damage is on the right side of his chest. A blow like the one he sustained, to the left side of his chest, would have killed him before he could get to us – and it was a very near thing as it was."

Kurt's eyes widened impossibly and Mercedes knew this might be the moment. She wrapped one arm around his back, the other grasping his elbow, and steered him to one of the chairs. After sitting him down, she knelt in front of him.

"Kurt, honey – your dad is fine. The doctor," she grimaced a little (seriously, who the hell taught that guy his bedside manner? Man spoke like a freaking robot and had about as much sensitivity), "He said it himself – the tree did not fall onto your dad's left side, okay? He's in surgery, and they're fixing him right up." She grabbed one limp hand, and it was cold and clammy to the touch.

Finn slumped into the seat next to Kurt, eying the smaller boy. "Do you need me to get you something?"

Kurt shook his head silently – but his frame was trembling. Behind and to her left, Mercedes could hear Mrs. Hudson reassuring the doctor that Kurt was okay. "Please, tell us if anything changes with Burt."

The doctor was walking away and Mrs. Hudson was crouching down beside Mercedes, staring up at Kurt. "Listen, I'm going to get us all something to drink – I'll get you a rootbeer, Finn, and what would you like, Mercedes?"

"Just apple juice would be fine, thanks Mrs. H.," Mercedes answered without taking her eyes off her best friend. Apple juice was her favourite drink, and it had a calming effect on her that neither milk nor a cold glass of water did.

Kurt was still silent, shaking, something that made Mrs. Hudson hesitate. But Mercedes gave her a quick smile. "I've got this, don't worry. Um, get him some water – ice cold, if there's some way to get that, please?"

Finn's mom nodded before heading off. Mercedes saw, more than heard, Kurt's breath hitch, and then Finn was leaning in, grabbing Kurt's other hand, and alternating between looking at him and then down the hall where the doctor had disappeared, his face twisted into an expression of frustration and weariness.

Mercedes could relate to that – she wanted the surgery over with now. She wanted to have Burt Hummel come out of that room perfectly fine, ready to reassure her boy. But she knew that even when the surgery ended well, Burt was probably gonna stay passed out for a while, and Kurt was going to be a wreck until then.

Kurt's breath hitched again, and Mercedes clenched the hand she was holding tighter. There wasn't a seat next to Kurt's other side, and even though Finn offered her his seat after another few minutes, Mercedes shook her head. From this angle, she could look dead on into Kurt's face, and she was pressed against his legs, feeling every spasm that shook them, no matter how slight.

It was a slow motion breakage – when a tear finally escaped him, Mercedes had to hold back another round of her own. "Kurt, please, if you need to cry – just do it, baby. Please."

Kurt blinked once, a second tear escaping, before actually looking at her. "I can't." His voice was low, husky, and cracking. "If I do, 'Cedes, I'll . . . it'll be just like . . . I can't because it'll be like he's already . . . g-gone, and I can't start thinking like that –"

Finn interrupted this, rubbing Kurt's back with his other hand. "There's no need for this, dude – c'mon, you know it's cool – your dad is tough and kickass, and no way a stupid tree branch is gonna end him."

Mercedes actually snorted out loud, and Kurt's brows furrowed, like he couldn't understand what Finn had said. Then . . . the faintest, weakest, most pathetic attempt at a smile twitched his lips, and Mercedes grinned brightly at it. "Finn's got it right, Kurt."

At that moment Mrs. Hudson reappeared, clutching all their beverages. Mercedes took her bottle of apple juice gratefully. Finn had already chugged half of his rootbeer. Mrs. Hudson handed Mercedes a water bottle that was freezing to the touch. "I had them stick it in the freezer for a bit," she explained.

Mercedes flashed her another warm smile as she thanked the kind woman before putting down her own bottle to open Kurt's. Thankfully, he seemed to be more aware of his surroundings – though it looked like it was costing everything in him to keep from flying apart. His hands were still trembling as he took small sips from his water.

As she watched him, Mercedes tried to think of something to say – something helpful, or soothing . . . something distracting or . . . anything, really, that would bring Kurt around. But she couldn't think of a damn thing. And she knew there wasn't really anything she could say.

Her older brother had once had a really bad fall while riding his bike down a hill – bad enough that he was in a coma for a few days. She had camped out by his bedside, ready to kill anyone who told her to get some rest, to get something to eat. The doctor's optimistic (and it turned out, accurate) prognosis hadn't really had much of an impact on her. Nothing mattered, nothing changed . . . until he opened his eyes after three days.

While she loved her brother so damn much it hurt sometimes (like it had in that hospital room), she knew for Kurt it was different because Mr. Hummel was the only thing of importance in his life – the one person he loved more than anything in the world. He may claim to be willing to die for his Alexander McQueen sweater collection, but Mercedes knew for a fact that Kurt would kill or be killed for his father. Without hesitation. If the doctor came up to Kurt right now and told him that for his father to live, Kurt would have to switch places with him? Done deal, no questions asked. That level of love and devotion . . .

Mercedes was feeling sick to her stomach – the apple juice had worked for a bit, but the thought of what would happen to Kurt if Mr. Hummel didn't come out of this okay . . .

Mrs. Hudson reached out and put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. He didn't flinch or shrug it off. Mercedes figured he didn't even feel it. The water bottle was empty now – had been for a while. Mercedes was sitting cross-legged and, without thinking, she had yanked Kurt's ginormous feet into her lap, taking his shoes and socks off to give a foot massage. She was damn good at this, and Kurt's eyes fluttered ever so slightly as she dug a firm but gentle thumb into the arch of his left foot. Finn was giving Mercedes a puppy-eyed look, but Mercedes just raised an eyebrow – please, she knew Kurt kept his feet nice, clean and manicured, odour-free and soft – she wasn't coming near Finn's feet unless he doused them in lye first, and then proceeded to wash them as thoroughly as Kurt did his. Plus, do you have your only parent laid up in surgery?

Somehow, all this got across with her single arched eyebrow and Finn slouched down in his chair, pouting good-naturedly. Mrs. Hudson was pacing the long hallway, walking slowly from one end to the other, pausing to take a good look at Kurt every lap or so, before continuing on, arms crossed tightly, lips chewed on and hair disheveled from running her fingers through it.

Mercedes just kept on rubbing Kurt's feet, alternating between the two, ignoring the beginnings of strain and stiffness in her fingers.

" 'Cedes?"

The voice was faint, cracked but still distinctly Kurt.

"Yeah, baby?"

"You don't have to be here . . . if you don't want to." He swallowed hard, gulping audibly. He let go of Finn's hand, which had the other boy flinching, watching Kurt as closely as Mercedes knew she was right now. He wouldn't meet her eyes and her own narrowed as he struggled around his words. "I . . . you shouldn't have to –"

"Kurt, don't even think about it," she said softly but firmly, flicking a gaze at Finn to let him know she had this – he nodded, saying nothing, just putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "If you don't want me here, I'll go. But if that ain't the case, then I am not moving. Period."

Kurt gave her more than a twitch of the lips this time, and actually turned to include Finn in his gratitude. "Thank you."

"Love you, too," she said, leaving his feet on her thighs, reaching both hands up to grab each of his. She squeezed them, trying to put all the affection she could into her own smile.

"And hey, don't thank us for being your friends," Finn added, moving his hand to wrap an arm around Kurt's shoulder. "I'd do this for Puck, and we're not like we used to be – you're practically my brother now, so duh, Kurt. No thanks required."

Kurt squeezed Mercedes back, his lips pulling upwards at Finn, and then, suddenly, his face fell, freezing back into that blank slate – his hands gripped hers like twin vices.

She looked over her shoulder to see the doctor re-emerging, holding a clipboard, his expression impossible to read. Mrs. Hudson came running from the other end of the hallway, Finn was standing up to meet her and Mercedes unfolded her legs, wincing as she got to her feet, pins and needles prickling her painfully. She hadn't let go Kurt's hands the whole time, though, and she watched as he seemed to weigh whether or not it was worth the effort to stand up. As the doctor came to halt in front of them, Kurt seemed to decide that sitting was his best option.

Mercedes stood next to him, letting go of one long-fingered hand, but gripping the other one even more tightly, ignoring the sweat that was breaking out between their two palms.

"First off," the doctor began, barely looking at them as he read his clipboard, "Mr. Hummel came out of the surgery incredibly well – there were no complications, and he's in recovery."

Mrs. Hudson let out a loud gasp, almost a high-pitched squeal, grabbing onto Finn and burying her face in his chest. Finn wrapped her up tightly in his arms, smiling from ear to ear, rocking his mom back and forth. He turned to Kurt, grinning triumphantly. "Told ya."

Mercedes wiped at a tear with the back of one hand, glancing down at Kurt who . . . looked exactly the same . . . maybe even worse? He'd been sitting stiffly this entire time, and now he just looked deflated. Exhausted. And so much more lost than he had been earlier which had Mercedes a little confused herself. He bent over, pulling his socks and shoes on, ignoring them all.

"Kurt?" She leaned in closer. "Kurt, didn't you hear? Your dad, he's going to be fine."

"Well, there is a long road ahead of him, and we need to be realistic about –"

Mercedes whipped around to glare at the damn fool of a man, nearly in sync with Finn and Mrs. Hudson. The doctor halted mid-sentence before mumbling out something about 'good chances' or whatever.

"Can we see him yet?" Finn's mom asked, looking a whole lot more relaxed.

"He won't be waking up for several hours, but yes, you can see him. Only two at a time, though, please."

"Kurt, hun, go on in." Mrs. Hudson's teary eyed smile seemed to encompass both of the teenagers in front of her. "And Mercedes, go in with him, please."

The doctor watched with an evaluating glance as Kurt stood up, limbs quivering. Mercedes hesitated – her boy sent her a look, a gentle 'back off, I'm okay' expression, but she wasn't so sure. Eventually, he was standing upright and following the doctor to his father's room. Mercedes walked a little behind him, off to one side, keeping watch. When they reached their destination, the doctor stood aside, informing them. "I'll get a nurse to come get you in fifteen minutes."

Mercedes nodded for them since Kurt was staring at his dad through the small window in the door and really not paying attention to the doctor. She took charge, pushing him into the room and shutting the door behind them.

For a split second it was like seeing her big brother, wrapped up in blankets, tubes and machines in and all around him, including the beeping heart monitor. She shuddered slightly, shutting her eyes, and when she opened them again, there was Mr. Hummel – not her brother – looking weak, unhealthily pale with blue lips, eerily still except for the breathing.

Kurt stumbled once, twice as he made his way to his father's bedside. Then he just stopped, half a foot short of the bed, a hand slightly raised, fingers just barely brushing the off-white blankets.

Mercedes stood there, edging only a little further into the room in silence. Kurt seemed to be drinking in the sight of his dad – his eyes flicked up and down, sometimes focusing on the IV in the man's hand, or the shallow cuts on his face, or the horribly dark bruising that disappeared into the tops of the bandages on his chest.

She watched a lone tear fall and splash onto the white sheets. Then another. And one more before Kurt reached up with shaky fingers, smudging them away, and grasping his father's hand, very carefully.

Then he dropped it quickly, as if he'd been scalded, and Mercedes flinched, taking half a step, not sure what to do.

Kurt just crossed his arms again, hunching in on himself, and the tears were streaking down his face suddenly, so many of them despite Kurt's eyes being shut tightly, and he was whispering, voice wavering in and out, "I'm so sorry, dad, but I can't. You know why. We were both there the last time with her and it nearly killed us . . . and this time I'd be alone and I can't. Dad, I can't. I can't do this." His entire frame was trembling hard and so were his words, fading, cracking, broken. "Oh, God, daddy, I'm sorry I can't."

Kurt whipped around, opening his blurred blue eyes, allowing more tears to flee. "Please, 'Cedes, take me home, get me out of here, please."

Mercedes nodded, crying and not being shy about it – she erased her tears with a long sleeve, and then held out her hand. Kurt untucked one hand, but his other arm stayed braced against his chest; he was still shrunken and trying to make himself smaller. She gathered her strength, dabbing once more at the moisture on her face, and dragged him from the room. He shuddered as they passed through the door, his head twitching nervously, like he wanted to turn around.

They walked back to the hallway where Mrs. Hudson and Finn were waiting in the chairs, and when they saw Kurt, they both jumped up. Mercedes shook her head, trying to warn them away. "It's . . ." She stopped, because no, no, it wasn't okay.

"He's tired – I'm taking him home," she finally said, straight and to the point.

Finn was staring hard at Kurt, and then he shifted that same gaze to Mercedes, licking dry lips before asking, softly, "Can you stay with him 'til we get home?"

Mercedes stared at him incredulously. "Wasn't plannin' on anything else, believe me."

Finn smiled for all of a second. "Thanks, Mercedes."

Mrs. Hudson was still looking way more calm now that she knew the surgery went fine, but it looked like she was taking all that concern for Burt and channeling it at his son. "Sweetheart, if there's anything you –"

Kurt shook his head, silent. He may have tried to say something, his lips parting, but he ended up just closing his mouth, swallowing hard, squeezing his eyes shut – breathing. Just breathing.

Mercedes lead him away from the Hudsons, and she saw Finn's mom biting her abused lower lip, reaching for her son and speaking to him, her eyes still on Kurt as they left.

She drove Kurt's SUV slowly, blinking rapidly as her vision became blurred more than a few times along the way to the Hummel-Hudson household. Kurt, for his part, was silent, and Mercedes would've thought he was asleep, with his half-closed eyes, but she could see the merest hint of washed-out blue flicking from beneath long brown lashes.

When they finally pulled up the driveway, they just sat there, Mercedes alternating between staring down at her hands and looking fleetingly up at her best friend. It was during one of the times she was examining a faint scar on her right index finger that Kurt spoke. "Are you going to stay until Finn and Carole get home or . . . the whole night?"

Mercedes inhaled deeply, blowing out a long exhale. "Is that what you need, Kurt?"

He didn't say anything, just breathed in and out, slow and deep. His hand reached for the one she'd just been staring at, and squeezed once. She squeezed back and reached for the car door with her other hand.

They got into the house, and Mercedes took all her cues from Kurt – but she was scared and uncertain about everything around her. The house felt different – the whole world felt off, and fragmented – like she was seeing all that was familiar and part of her reality, but it didn't look like it belonged.

Or something. She couldn't put it into words – but she managed to put it all into action. She followed her best friend as he made a beeline for his basement, not even flicking any lights on until he reached his bathroom. She reached for her cell phone – she'd called her parents once, when they'd been waiting for the doctor the first time around, for him to come out and tell them what was wrong with Kurt's dad. Her mom and dad had been so worried about Kurt, it had made Mercedes feel loads better, and they told her to keep them updated, and that she should stay with him as long as he needed her. She called them now to tell them she would be staying the night.

"You do that, Mercy," her mother said, her voice thick with concern and sadness. "God, Kurt . . . of all the boys in the world. It's always the least deserving, isn't it?"

Mercedes bit her lip; Kurt was still in his bathroom, but Mercedes hadn't heard a single sound – no faucet running, no toilet flushing.

She was getting tired of the long silences.

"Mom, what do I do? He's . . . I don't know what to do, what to say –"

"You just be there for him. All he needs is someone there who loves him."

Mercedes nodded, and then remembered her mother wasn't there to see it. "Okay. I, uh, I don't think –"

"I'll call the school for you in the morning – I think I'll call Carole too, let her know that you're staying with Kurt and you'll be there for the night. Let her know we're praying for all of them. If Kurt's willing to listen, you let him know that your father and I are sending him all the love and hope in the world, all right?"

"Yes, mom." She could do this – she could be strong for Kurt. He meant a hell of a lot to her, even when he was being stupid or self-centered. Whatever mistakes, whatever fights they'd had didn't mean a damn thing, because she knew he would do the same for her if this thing were reversed. She loved him like family, and that's why this all hurt so very much.

"Mercedes, if this is too much for you – you've always been responsible, so mature, but I might be putting too much pressure on you – I can come over and stay –"

"No, no." Mercedes felt warmed by the thought, but she didn't think Kurt wanted any more people to witness this. "I love you, mom – I'll call if I . . . if I can't handle it, but it's Kurt – I know my boy."

"Yes, yes you do – but I'll be by in the morning – I'll start work a couple of hours late tomorrow, check in on the family, and you."

Mercedes smiled. "Okay, mom, thanks. I'll see you tomorrow." She started for the bathroom, "Love you. A lot."

"Love you too, Mercy – a whole ton."

Mercedes felt another smile pull at her lips, but it fell like every other one had throughout the day – barely there and strained as hell. She approached the bathroom door, knocking lightly. "Kurt?"

There was no response at first, then, "Mercedes?" And the door opened.

Kurt stood there, bathed in the light of his bathroom (almost as white as his bedroom), and blinked confusedly at her. "I . . . I came in here to wash my face and brush my teeth. I . . . my face is going to be a mess if I don't get to moisturizing . . ."

"Oh, white boy." She grabbed an arm, pulling him out of the bathroom. "You look like you're going to pass out any second now – let's get your skinny butt to bed, 'kay?"

Kurt frowned faintly at her. "I do not have a skinny butt. I am lean and healthy and –" He choked suddenly, staring at his vanity, at his reflection, half-lit, half in darkness. He faltered in his steps, and Mercedes caught him around the waist. He said nothing, just grabbed her around the shoulders. He kept right on staring at the reflection, his eyes focusing not on his mirror-self . . . but for whatever reason, on the stairs behind them. His lids slammed down, and when he opened them, the tears were back. Then, "I'm going to bed."

She nodded. "That's the plan."

"I . . . Mercedes, I know you said it made you uncomfortable, but –"

"And I'm sleeping with you." She grinned suddenly. "But if you hog the covers, I'm totally shoving you off the bed. And if you kick me, I will kick you back, right in your lean ass."

Kurt coughed out a laugh, and he pulled away to start stripping down. Mercedes turned to walk into his closet, yanking out the spare pair of pyjamas she kept there. She changed right in the closet (it was big enough to be a small spare bedroom – or it would have been, if it weren't for the ludicrous amounts of clothes and shoes, and the cot shoved in the corner – the cot Kurt would pull out and sleep on when she crashed, so she could have the bed to herself). When she emerged, comfy and ready for sleep, Kurt was already lying down, covers up to his stomach, staring at his ceiling.

Mercedes breathed in deeply before she pulled back the covers on the other side, tucking herself in and turning to face Kurt. He kept staring up, and there were faint wet streaks starting at the corners of his eyes, glistening as they disappeared into his hair.

"Kurt? Kurt, it's going to be fine – your dad is going to be fine." Mercedes tried to soothe him.

He shook his head, biting a trembling lip briefly. "No, 'Cedes, I . . . I can't ever imagine . . . it's like a nightmare and . . . I'm not dreaming, I can't wake up . . ."

"But, it's not," Mercedes said determinedly. "It's not because your dad got out of surgery, and he's going to be okay. Please, Kurt, stop doing this to yourself."

He turned his head to face her, a tear changing its trajectory, pooling between his eye and his nose before dropping off onto mattress. He looked like he was in total agony and it made Mercedes breathless and overwhelmed to see – suddenly she wanted her mother, and she realized . . . that's exactly what Kurt wanted too.

"Oh baby," she said weakly, her own tears falling for the thousandth time, dampening her pillow.

Kurt let out a pained sound, a hand flying up to cover his mouth as he shuddered and shook, and tried to keep it all in. Then his hand fell away as he half-sobbed out, "It can't be okay, Mercedes, it can't be – he shouldn't be hurt – it shouldn't be allowed. Not when we've only got each other – please, God, anybody, it can't – it shouldn't – what if . . . "

And he finally lost it completely, broke down, sobbing into his pillow, so hard it looked like it was hurting him physically; his arms wrapped, braced against his ribs, the cries painful because they were almost silent, mostly wet gasps of air, some hacking coughs – as if he couldn't let himself scream and sob for all the world to hear. Mercedes was crying too – because crying so no one can hear was something her boy should not be familiar with – and because, God damn if Kurt's words hadn't just shattered her control, her desire to be the calm, strong person he could lean on.

She grabbed at him, pulled him against her, and they cried together: Mercedes with an endless fountain tears, and Kurt almost convulsing with broken, unheard sobs.

At some point it tapered off, though only because he fell into an exhausted, bone-deep sleep. Mercedes felt herself falling away – but didn't let go as she did, because he needed to know, even while he slept, that she was right here, loving him and taking care of him. And she tried her best to convey that with her arms wrapped tightly around him, and the soft kiss she pressed to sweat damp hair.

Then she was gone too, and her last coherent thought was an unfinished prayer for mercy and long life.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Author's Note: This took on a life of its own – I fear it may be too much, but I was basing it on real emotion – not experience, thank God, but my own worst fears.

Hopefully I haven't scared you guys off with all this angst and introspection – the feedback you've given me has proven to be amazing motivation, as usual – I will gladly accept any and all types of comments – critical or otherwise. I have no medical background, so I apologize if any of that was inaccurate, or just plain wrong - I tried to keep it vague so as to hide my ignorance.

Also, there will be several more chapters – so this will be much longer – I love aftermath (as I told some of you) more than anything else when it comes to angst, so be prepared for Kurt to take a bit of a journey.

Thanks to all readers: everyone who has commented, favourited or just stopped by to check this story out!