Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me.
"I'm bored," Kurt complained, pressing his nose to the window.
"Please don't whine, Kurt," his mother said quietly. She sat at the far end of the living room, a book open on her lap, but she hadn't turned a page in an hour. "Do you want to watch a movie?"
"I've watched all my movies," he said. He twisted around in his chair to glare at her petulantly. "You promised you'd take me to get ice cream the next time it rained."
"I know, sweetheart, but…" Her voice trailed off. "We can have a tea party if you'd like. Or I can read to you."
Kurt pouted. "We've had tea parties in the garden every day that hasn't been raining," he said. He flung himself across her lap. "I'm sick of the garden and I'm sick of being inside. Why can't I go outside and do things?"
Mollie smoothed his bright hair, and after a moment her fingers wandered to trail over the soft feathery ends of his wings. "Daddy and I just want to keep you close," she said. She bent over him to press a kiss to his cheek. "Here, I have something we can do. We can go bake cupcakes."
Kurt popped up. "And eat them before dinner?" he asked.
She smiled. "Maybe one," she said, setting aside her book and holding out her hand to him. He followed her into the kitchen, already rattling off the kinds of cupcakes he wanted to make. They only made one kind- his mother's favorite, soft warm yellow cake with fluffy chocolate buttercream- and he'd already eaten two before his father came home for dinner that night.
He tried to ask his father during dinner if they could go to the park the next day, and even offered to play catch- he was that desperate to go outside. Burt smiled at him, but he didn't seem very happy.
"Tell you what, kiddo," he said. "I'll take you down the big baseball field at the high school. How about that?" Mollie sat up, her eyes widening, and Burt touched her arm lightly. "But only if we can hide your wings."
Kurt frowned. "Daddy, I don't like tying my wings up," he said. "It hurts. And it gets really itchy."
"I know, buddy, but we need to…cover you up," Burt said. He cupped Kurt's chin in his hand and rubbed the pad of his thumb over a faint chocolate smear on his cheek. "We just want to keep you safe."
"But-" Kurt started to protest.
Mollie stood up. "It's getting late," she said, her lower lip trembling just a little. She pressed her mouth into a tight line and smiled at him. "Come on, sweetheart. Time for bed."
He almost argued with her, but his mother's expression seemed strange, almost unfamiliar. Instead, he just stayed quiet and got ready for bed meekly. She tucked him into bed with a kiss, brushing the feathers of his wings smooth and out of his way, and he settled back against the pillows, staring up at the shadows on the ceiling reflected by his nightlight.
But he couldn't sleep, and he could hear hushed voices from downstairs, and before long he slid out from under his covers and tiptoed to the top the of the stairs. He huddled against the railing, peeking down into the living room.
His mother was pacing back and forth, her gold-and-white wings shaking, and his father sat on the couch, leaning over with his elbows resting on his knees. "We need to move, Burt," Mollie said.
"I told you, we have to wait till the garage is sold," Burt said quietly. "We don't have the money to move yet." He locked his fingers together and exhaled slowly. "I've got a couple of buyers coming by next week. The first reasonable I offer I get, we'll pack up and we'll go."
Kurt pressed his forehead to the railing. He didn't want to move. He liked his house, and his swingset in the garden, and his school. He was supposed to start second grade in the fall, and the last thing he wanted was to go to an entirely new school.
"No, Burt, I want to move now," Mollie begged. "It's not safe. Ohio is pressing for stricter and stricter adherence to the Gabriel Act. They've talked about making it compulsory for people with the seraph gene to go in for removal. Do you know what that means?"
"I know what it means, Mollie.".
She stopped mid-stride, hands clasped at her chest. "I've heard the reports, Burt," she said. "Of the procedure. What they do to you when…" She inhaled deeply. "I would rather die than see them to that to our baby."
Kurt fidgeted. He didn't know what they were talking about, but for some reason it made the pit of his stomach hurt, like he'd suddenly dropped down a hill on a roller coaster. For a moment he thought about sneaking down the stairs to his parents. Maybe that would make the funny feeling go away if he was close enough to them. They wouldn't let him get hurt.
"Fine," Burt said. "Fine, we'll…you and Kurt can go tomorrow morning. I'll take you to the airport and I'll put you two on the first flight to New York City. You can stay up there till I've got the garage sold."
The tenseness in Mollie's shoulders relaxed. "Oh, Burt, thank you," she said. "I know you're not excited about living in the city, but they have the most relaxed approach to the new laws. Things will be easier there. And Kurt will love it there, I know he will."
Burt opened up his arm and she sat down beside him on the couch, resting her cheek against his shoulder. "It's all going to be okay, little girl," he said, kissing her lightly on the forehead. "I'll take care of it."
Kurt slipped down another stair, already full of questions, but before he could ask anything someone banged hard on their front door.
His mother's wings shot straight up, every feather razor-sharp and alert, and Burt stood up, placing his hand in front of her. "It's probably nothing," he said.
"It's eleven o'clock at night," she said through her teeth.
He couldn't see his mother's face, but he could see his father's, and for the first time in his life he didn't recognize the look in his eyes. Then the door broke down, and Kurt took off running for his bedroom.
His father was afraid. And now he was too.
He fled to the safety of his room, diving onto his bed and burrowing into his blankets. His insides felt twisted, like he didn't know whether to cry or throw up. The nightlight looked like a faded star through the cotton of the comforter, but it did nothing to muffle the strange loud voices downstairs.
He strained to listen, his heart pounding in his throat and his wings twitching against the blankets, sending static sparks around him in the dark. "No, you can't!" a higher voice shouted, and he whimpered into his pillow. His mother sounded scared too.
Heavy footsteps pounded on the stairs and he burst into tears, curling up in a tighter ball. Rough hands grabbed him and he screamed, kicking wildly. "Kurt, no, kiddo, it's me," Burt said, scooping him up.
"Daddy!" he wailed, throwing his arms around his neck. "Daddy, I'm scared! What's going on?"
"It's okay, you're just going to go on a trip with Mommy," Burt said, hugging him tightly. Kurt clung to him, his short legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in the flannel collar of his shirt. Burt rubbed his back between his wings. "It's okay. It's all okay."
The lights turned on and someone pulled him away from his father. "Let go of me!" Kurt bellowed, pounding his fists against the steel-hard arm clamped around his waist. His wings were bending all the wrong ways, brushing against the grain of his feathers, and he squirmed against the grip. "Let me go, let me go!"
The stranger hauled him down the stairs, dangling him under his arm, and it didn't matter how much Kurt fought. He reached out, scrabbling for the staircase railing, but his fingers pulled away and he shrieked.
"Thought you claimed your kid wasn't here," his captor grunted as he hoisted Kurt up against his hip. His gun holster ground into Kurt's chest.
"Look, we followed all the rules," Mollie begged. "We registered with the database and everything. Why are you doing this?"
"Mommy, he's hurting me," Kurt said, wriggling in his grip. He stretched out his hands. "Mommy, what're they doing?"
His mother was pale as snow, her hands clenched over her chest. "Kurt, it's okay," she said, her voice shaking. "Please, just put him down, he won't run away. He's just a baby, he can't even fly!"
The arm around him only tightened and Kurt gulped. There were three other men in the living room, all dressed in black with blank faces. "The amendment to the Gabriel Act passed this afternoon," one of them said. "I'm afraid we have to take you and your son into custody."
"No," Mollie whispered. "No, no, no, oh my god…"
"You can't take them," Burt said. "They haven't done anything wrong. Especially my son. He's barely eight years old, he can't even do long division. What the hell do you think arresting a little kid is going to do?"
"I don't wanna be arrested!" Kurt shrieked. "I don't wanna go to jail! Mommy, don't let them take me!"
"Kurt, baby-"
"Mrs. Hummel, you and your son are going to have to come with us."
Burt took a step forward. "Where are you taking them?" he demanded. "If you're going to drag my wife and my kid out of my house in the middle of the night, I at least get to know where you're taking them."
"Sorry, sir, that's classified."
Kurt kicked again, but he was shaking too much to do any damage. His father's face had gone beet red. "You can't take them," Burt said. "You can't-"
"Burt, don't-" Mollie started to plead, but as she lunged towards her husband, one of the men in black caught her by the arm.
"Don't make me have to handcuff you."
Burt took a deep breath. "Mollie, just go with them," he said, his voice so low Kurt could barely hear him.
"But-"
"Don't give them any reason to…" Burt's voice broke. "I'll do everything I can to get you home. Both of you. Just…just take care of Kurt."
Mollie nodded. A tear dripped down her cheek and she rubbed it away with the back of her hand. "I love you," she said, her voice trembling.
Burt tried to smile. "Love you too, little girl," he said.
Kurt wriggled in his captor's grip again. "Daddy, where'm I going?" he begged.
Burt glanced up at the man holding him. "I love you, scooter," he said. "You stay with your mama, okay?"
Something in his father's voice made him swallow down all of his questions. "Okay, Daddy," he whispered.
One of the men dragged his mother towards the front door, and Kurt let out a startled yelp. "Mommy! Your wings!"
His mother's beautiful wings were lashed with thick neon blue straps, binding them flat to her back and sides. She wouldn't be able to fly away.
His captor carried him outside into the dark rain, and instantly his pajamas were pelted with cold fat drops. He squirmed as they struck his wings, and he glanced over his shoulder to see his father standing in the doorway, just a slumped black silhouette against the warm yellow light of home. Kurt whined softly through his teeth.
A plain white van with dark windows was parked on the block, and his mother was pushed inside first. He was tossed in after her, his bare feet slipping on the dirty carpet, and suddenly soft warm arms closed around him. "I'm here, baby, I'm here," Mollie murmured, and he crawled into her lap.
The door slammed and Kurt hid his face in her breast as the van started moving. There were no seats or seatbelts, just a grimy floor and several other silent people pressed against the walls. The van stank of mildew and sweat, and the air was stale and moist. He pressed himself closer to his mother, pulling her long hair around him like a protective curtain, and breathed in the scent of her perfume.
"It's okay," Mollie kept murmuring. Her hand curled around the back of his neck protectively and she rocked him back and forth, holding him as close as she could. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay…"
His mother had never lied to him before. But somehow he knew. He just knew. It wasn't going to be okay.
Author's Notes:
AH NO WHY DID I WRITE THIS WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS ANGST?
And it's going to get worse...
Here, have a sneak preview of the next chapter:
"Mommy! No, no, no, Mommy, I want my mommy, I want my mommy!"
She saw a nurse leaning over a woman sitting on the floor in the corner, pulling on the arm of a small boy. The child screamed bloody murder, his free arm locked tightly around his mother's neck. She looked torn and terrified, trying to comfort her son but clearly knowing she had no choice but to hand him over. Without meaning to Carole found herself crossing the room towards them.
"You'll see your mommy later," the nurse said, grunting with effort as she yanked on the child's arm. He was tougher than he looked, his small fingers clutching at the strap of his mother's sundress, but the nurse was stronger. She pulled him away, the fabric ripping in his fingers, and he let out a hysterical wail as he was torn away from his mother.