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Chapter 3

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Finn and his mom were booted out of the hospital at around two thirty in the morning, but they refused to leave until the doctor and nurses in charge of Burt swore up and down that things were stable. They also said that it was unlikely that Burt would be opening his eyes until sometime tomorrow (they'd used the word 'if' a lot). Eventually his mom agreed to go – mostly because she wanted to go home and check on Kurt.

Finn got back so dead on his feet, he barely took more than a second to drag his feet down the first few steps of Kurt's basement, hunching down to peer into the darkness to make sure Kurt was okay. It had looked like he was, at least right then – the guy had been sleeping wrapped around Mercedes, which, you know, good; Finn honestly hadn't thought Kurt would be getting any sleep tonight. And since Mercedes was taking care of him for that moment, that meant Finn could sleep, and then take over for her in the morning tomorrow (or was it today? God, was it really three in the morning already?).

He passed on what he'd seen to his mom, who was sitting on her bed, in the dark, and looking pretty dead to the world herself, even though she wasn't sleeping. It killed Finn to see her looking like that, but she refused to let him do more than hug her and told him to get some sleep.

So he then proceeded to his own bedroom, and collapsed onto the bed.

He woke up, what felt like seconds later, feeling grimy and gross – he hated falling asleep in his clothes, even though he did it a lot because it was so nice and comfy at first . . . but then everything's all tangled up and with wrinkle impressions all over. Finn felt his nose scrunch up as he took in the fact that he even still had his shoes on.

He quickly stripped and wandered into his bathroom – it was smaller than Kurt's but it was his and that was so cool. He could totally leave his dirty underwear on the floor if he wanted, for as long as he wanted . . . or until Rachel came over. Or his mom found it and yelled at him.

One of the coolest thing about this bathroom, though? Burt had actually found a bathtub Finn could be comfortable in, which was . . .

Finn's hands fell away in the middle of lathering his hair, the previous day's events hitting him like a punch to the stomach. He wrapped his arms around himself, closing his eyes and stepping back from the comfort of the warm water. Oh God, how could he forget something like that?

Finn barely took the time to finish out his shower, almost sliding to his death as he rushed to get dressed. He took a moment to look at the clock, realizing it was ten in the morning . . . and what day was it? . . . Well, yesterday had been meatloaf day at the cafeteria, so that meant it must've been a Thursday, so today was a Friday and his mom hadn't bothered to wake him up for school, which was more than fine with him.

Finn scrubbed at his face once before taking a deep breath and opening his door.

The first thing he noticed was that the master bedroom's door was closed, meaning that his mom was probably resting – hopefully she'd actually managed to get at least a few hours of sleep. He took quiet steps past her room, past the living room and stopped when he heard voices in the kitchen.

"C'mon, Kurt, careful . . . sit here, and I'll make you some breakfast."

Finn watched from an unseen corner as Kurt collapsed into a chair, Mercedes rooting through the fridge. Kurt was looking awful. Finn knew for a fact that Kurt had been sleeping when he got back from the hospital, but it obviously hadn't been a good rest, and he was looking so pale, making the circles under his eyes stand out even more. He clearly hadn't bothered with any of his usual morning ritual – his hair was a ruffled mess.

Mercedes was putting some milk, eggs and the like on the counter, looking like she was prepping to make some pancakes. Finn's stomach grumbled quietly at that, and he covered it with his hands, uselessly trying to muffle the noise and not give himself away.

The two in the kitchen didn't notice him at all though. Mercedes was mixing more ingredients into the batter, humming softly. Finn faintly recognized the song, but he couldn't quite place it. Kurt wiped at a stray tear, almost mechanically it looked like. He mumbled something – Finn couldn't make it out, but Mercedes did. She put down her spoon, turning around slowly, eyes narrowing. "What was that, Kurt Hummel?"

"I said I'm a . . . I'm a horrible son," he said plaintively. "You saw what I did last night."

"Kurt, honey, I saw you almost worry yourself into a panic attack over you father – what about that made you a bad person?"

"I left him." Kurt was speaking to the tabletop, but Finn could hear the tears thickening his tone. "I'm a coward, Mercedes," he breathed out, hands covering his eyes. "I'm such a spineless piece of crap. I'm not even half the man my father is. He went through all that with my mother and he kept up a front for me and . . . God, 'Cedes, what the hell kind of son am I? I just left."

Mercedes gaped at him. "Kurt –"

"No, no." He shook his head. "You're going to tell me that it was perfectly normal, that it was okay and my dad won't care and . . . but I care. I was selfish –"

"Dude!" Finn couldn't stand it anymore, pushing away from the wall and walking into the kitchen. "Kurt, man, you gotta stop. Do you even hear what you're saying?"

Kurt had jumped when Finn had interrupted him, but that was the only visible reaction he had to anything Finn was saying. Mercedes was nodding along, letting Finn take his shot at trying to get through to the other boy.

Finn pulled up a chair, sitting down and leaning forwards, earnest in expression and words; Kurt had to understand, he had to know that he was wrong.

"It was like . . . scary intense, yesterday," Finn began haltingly. "And I was terrified out of my mind, and you . . . I can't even imagine what was going through your head, man, but you were, like, holding it all back or something, trying to keep it together, and that . . . Kurt, I get it – you and I, I've got my mom, and you've got your dad, and that's it. If I lost my mom . . ."

"I have – I'm sorry Finn, but you don't really know what it's like to lose a parent when you've actually had the time to have them in your life . . ." Kurt said softly.

"Exactly! And you know, and you saw it maybe happening again right in front of you . . . I would've, like, gone insane. I don't just mean acting crazy – I mean seriously give-that-guy-a-straightjacket nuts. You . . . it got to be too much, and you went home. But you're going to go see your dad today, right?"

Kurt looked vaguely offended by the question. "Of course –"

"Then quit acting like you committed some sort of crime by bolting out yesterday!" Finn grabbed a white hand in his own. "You held it together as long as you could, and when you couldn't do it anymore, you came home and now you're going back to try again. Quit feeling bad about something that's so totally not your fault. And your dad is gonna totally agree with me when he's back home, with us."

Kurt stared at their joined hands for a bit, then raised his eyes to Mercedes, who was smiling. "Can I have some chocolate chips in my pancakes, 'Cedes? Today seems like a good day to screw my healthy-eating food plan."

"Anything you want, baby boy," Mercedes said happily. "You want me to throw some bacon on the grill while we're at it?"

Bacon and chocolate chip pancakes? That sounded totally awesome to Finn, but Kurt was making a face. "Meh, that's a bit much. Besides I only eat bacon when . . . my dad . . ." Kurt swallowed but pushed on with a wavering smile. "But make sure you don't go easy on the chocolate chips – I want my chocolate goodness to practically overcome the pancake."

Finn pouted at the idea of no bacon, but the pancakes sounded mouth-watering so he let it go.

Mercedes whipped up the pancakes in record time, and they were incredible. Even Kurt seemed a little happier munching on them. They were all sitting in silence, finishing off the last of their delicious breakfast, when Finn's mom came into the kitchen, showered and dressed, but also looking beyond exhausted.

She sat down at the table, silent and dazed. Mercedes got up and served her the last two pancakes and a coffee. His mom accepted the coffee, but shook her head at the plate.

"Thank you, Mercedes, but I'm really –"

"You should eat something, Mrs. H." Mercedes' voice was kind in its light scolding. "I'm pretty sure coffee isn't considered a meal – my parents've told me so enough times."

Finn said nothing, because he'd been with his mom all night, and he knew exactly how little she'd had to eat – which was exactly nothing. He smiled encouragingly at her when she glanced his way. After a minute, she breathed out heavily and reached for her knife and fork.

Finn inhaled his last bit of chocolate awesomeness and then just kicked back and watched as everyone took annoyingly small bites of theirs. He wondered if maybe there was something wrong with him since he thought he could go for another couple of pancakes. Was he a jerk because he was still hungry?

"I really appreciate you stickin' around, sweetheart," his mom said once she'd eaten one pancake. She pushed the plate away and Finn eyed the leftover as subtly as he could. His mom, without even shifting her gaze from Mercedes, shoved the plate in front of him and Finn gave her a happy grin as he dove fork and mouth first into it.

At some point, when he bothered to look up from his second breakfast, both Mercedes and his mother were looking over at Kurt, who had his head down, cutting his last pancake into little pieces. Mercedes sighed.

"Honestly, there's no where else I could've been. And . . . if it's okay with you, I'll probably be around a lot this weekend, and stop by everyday after school – I just . . ." She bit her lip, eyes flicking back and forth between Finn's mom and Kurt. Finn totally understood what she was getting at – he'd already pretty much made up his mind that someone had to be with Kurt, like, all the time. He seemed so . . . wasted and out of it that it was seriously freaking Finn out.

His mom waved Mercedes words off. "Oh, Mercedes, you know perfectly well that Burt has an open door policy when it comes to you – whenever you want, for however long you want – that's the rule." A half smile followed this, and it made Finn feel a little more at ease, seeing his mom smiling and talking, acting normal. Tired and sad, but normal.

Mercedes just nodded, still shooting Kurt looks now and again. The boy lifted his head eventually, with something like a smile on his face too. "I suppose if I try to say that you really don't need to –"

"Don't make me come over there," his best friend warned, pointing her fork at him.

Kurt actually smiled at that, and pushed his plate over at Finn. Finn had just finished his mom's pancake and was more than happy to devour Kurt's too. Mercedes was way too good at this breakfast thing.

A knock at the door made them all jump, and Mercedes stood up, apologizing, "Sorry – forgot to tell you that my parents were coming by . . ."

"It's fine, sweetheart, I'm sure they're worried sick about you and Kurt." His mom managed a more sincere smile this time, which had Finn feeling even better – Kurt's pancake went down far easier than his mom's had.

Mercedes got up, nudging Kurt playfully on the way to the door. "Be prepared, baby, I'm sure you know what's comin'."

Kurt smiled softly, but he seemed to be bracing himself too. Finn tilted his head curiously – he'd never met Mercedes parents, but Kurt had told him many times that they were pretty awesome. Burt said they were cool and his mom had met them at the last parents' night, confirming Kurt's endless praises.

A few seconds later, Mercedes came back, and her mom and dad followed. Her dad was tall and muscular, with a touch of grey at his temples and sprinkling the rest of his dark hair. Her mom was short and curvy, with striking greenish grey eyes – Finn couldn't help but stare.

Not at her eyes – well, not just at her eyes – it was all the food. They both had armfuls of food. He stood up, along with Kurt, ready to take all of it off their hands, but they side stepped them, putting the piles of what looked like casseroles and lasagna and who knew what else on the counter – all Finn could think was that if they cooked half as well as Mercedes made pancakes . . .

As soon as Mrs. Jones hands were empty, she had Kurt in a big bear hug, wrapping him up tight enough to make Finn worry that the other boy couldn't really breathe.

"I'm fine, Patricia, really," Kurt gasped out, though his arms found their way around her, squeezing back. "It's my dad . . . he's the one in the hospital."

"I know, I know." Mrs. Jones pressed a kiss to his temple as she pulled back. "But I know you, Kurt – maybe not as well as my girl does, but . . ." She cradled his face with one hand before stepping away. "He's going to be fine, right?"

Kurt shrugged, licking his lips and casting a look back at Finn's mom. She was standing next to Mr. Jones, arms wrapped around herself. "When I left the hospital last night, they told me things were looking pretty good – it really depends on whether or not he develops an infection, and how soon he wakes up . . . they'll know more when he's awake."

She didn't say 'if'. She said 'when'. And whatever the doctor had said, Finn was right there with her – he refused to believe that Burt would leave Kurt behind. Like, no way, no chance, at least not for another fifty years.

"Carole, I don't want to say that 'I know how you feel', because I don't, but I did want to say that we both are here for you – for all of you – and you can call on us whenever you want." Mrs. Jones made her way over to his mom, wrapping her up in another tight hug. Mr. Jones put a hand on her shoulder and his mom accepted both gestures with a watery eyed smile. When they separated, she took a second to wipe her eyes.

"Thank you both, and thank you for letting us borrow Mercedes, but I wasn't expecting all this too." She gestured at the piles of dinners.

"Oh, well, really, that was me working off nervous energy all of last night," said Mr. Jones, rubbing the back of his neck. He walked over to Kurt, taking his turn in giving the boy a quick embrace, and keeping an arm wrapped around his shoulder. "We just . . . we thought the less you all had to think about, the better – there's enough food there to last a week – I figure if you keep it frozen, it'll last you until Burt comes home."

His mom actually grinned at that. "Have you met my son, Finn? I give it three days. And Kurt's no slouch either, when he's hungry enough."

Kurt looked like he wanted to protest this, but Finn just poked at him. "Dude, I saw how much chicken salad you put away last Friday – it was like, twice the size of a normal bowl. Maybe even three times. And you had seconds."

Kurt shut his mouth, shaking his head. "It's all lies, Mrs. Jones, don't listen to him."

Weak joking aside, Kurt's gaze kept flicking to the trays and dishes sitting on his counter, and for some reason . . . it was like it hurt him to see them – his eyes would get a little wet looking and he would stare at the floor or the table. Finn couldn't understand what was going on.

"Oh, Finn, I'm so sorry for ignoring you." Mrs. Jones came over to him, hugging him tightly. "Kurt's mentioned you more than a few times – all of it good, I swear. Even your eating habits – though it was more a . . . disgusted sort of fascination."

Finn shrugged, smiling self-deprecatingly. "I'm big. It takes a lot to fill up this body."

Mrs. Jones laughed heartily. "Honey, you preachin' to the choir. My boy could eat everything in the fridge and then whine about when we were having dinner . . . and have you seen the Lurch I have for a husband?"

"Thank you, honey," Mr. Jones said dryly, sticking a hand out to shake Finn's. "It's nice to meet you, Finn."

Finn shook the man's hand heartily. "You too, Mr. Jones – and thanks so much for all the food, sir."

"Don't worry about eating it all up. We have no problems whipping up some more and bringing it over."

Finn nodded – because, well, his mom was right. Kurt had stepped out from under Mr. Jones arm and was now grabbing Mercedes hand. "Hey, I'm not trying to kick you out or anything – but I think you should go home, get changed, and relax for a bit."

Mercedes instantly tried to argue but Kurt shook his head, grabbing her in a hug that was nearly as tight as the one Mrs. Jones had given him. When he let her ago, he was smiling again. "I'm not saying go away and don't come back. I'm saying go home, recharge your batteries and then come see me later. You've convinced me, okay? Now I'm going to be totally selfish and demand your presence as often as I need it – but you need to get some rest and be ready to fill that role with your usual sass. Please, Mercedes?"

Finn watched as Mercedes crumbled beneath the steady gaze of blue eyes, and she hugged him back quickly before turning to her parents. "All right, you guys get to take me home now, I guess."

Mrs. Jones was trying to hide a tear track or two, but she grinned at her daughter. "Well, you heard your boy, Mercy – best be ready for when he demands you report to him. And please, if one of you could call us when you hear any news?"

Finn's mom nodded. "Of course, Patricia, that was the plan, I promise you."

Mercedes wrapped his mom and him in hugs before she left, and once all three Jones were gone, Kurt was staring at the food, his face looking pained again.

"We're going back to the hospital, now, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, we are. You go get ready, Finn and I will take care of putting all this in the freezer."

Kurt disappeared less than a second later, and soon they were all sitting in the SUV, ready to head out, Kurt dressed scarily plain and his hair lacking any gel or hairspray.

The other boy was looking withdrawn again, hurting and holding back a fresh wave of tears. Finn wanted to say something, but he didn't know, he never seemed to know – he wanted to think that everything he'd said and done so far was a help, but honestly, he really had no clue. Helping Kurt made his own fears and pains about Burt being in the hospital a little easier to deal with. The man may not be his father but . . .

His mom sat in the driver's seat for a long while, not even making a move to start the car.

"You know, Kurt . . . when Finn's father died, one of the first things that people did was start bringing food by the house?" His mom spoke up out of nowhere.

Kurt startled a little in his seat, but he turned to face her, lip quivering. "Yeah?" he croaked out. Finn could see from his vantage point in the back seat that Kurt's hands were in fists on his lap, trembling slightly.

"Yeah. I'm sure someone could tell me why food is traditionally brought over after some one dies – all I know is that a lot of them told me that it was the only thing they could think of to do for me. Some of them said it was so I wouldn't have to worry about feeding Finn or myself. Like I would let us starve or something if they didn't provide us with food."

Kurt snorted wetly at that and the trembling eased up.

"Point being is that nowadays, when people offer to bring me ready to serve meals, no matter what the reason, seeing all that food piled up in my kitchen . . . it just brings up bad memories, you know?"

Finn suddenly understood the randomness of this conversation – realizing that it wasn't actually that random.

Kurt grabbed a tissue to blow his nose, crumpling it into a ball when he was done – it almost matched his skin tone, which was rather creepy to see. After a few moments of silence, he sighed. "After my mom . . . people did the same thing. It was never-ending. All my dad's friends, my mom's friends, the family – we could've gone without grocery shopping for a month easy but after a week . . ."

Kurt sniffed, a sad smile twisting his features. "My mom wasn't the world's greatest cook, but she did have a few dishes she made spectacularly well. My favourite was her chicken potpie – it was hearty and delicious, and just one plate could fill you up for a whole day. And everyone who ever tasted it would ask her for the recipe, and she would give it to them . . . So after she died, the vast majority of the food that came into our house was her chicken potpie – I think they thought it would be comforting or something but . . ."

Kurt dabbed under his eyes with the tissue, staring down at his lap, his smile turning bitter. "All it did was put my dad and me off chicken pot-pie for life. We had maybe two or three – and every one was slightly different, didn't taste quite like hers did. I always ended up crying at the end of dinner. So my dad threw away every single one – but that still left us with enough casseroles and pot roasts to feed us for another couple of weeks – I remember coming home from school and seeing them pilling up on the counter. My dad ended up dropping those off at a church or soup kitchen. He tried to cook us dinner himself, but it ended being a total fail . . . We laughed for the first time and it was just two weeks after . . ."

Finn's mom reached over, grabbing his free hand tightly. "I know, Kurt, believe me, I know. But this isn't like then – not for either of us. Because your father is going to be fine. It was scary for a bit there, I'm not going to lie to you and say I wasn't thinking that someone I loved was going to be leaving me, again. But there's not going to be a funeral this time – no mourners dropping off enough food to feed the entire state. It's just friends, giving us a hand . . . Until your dad gets home. Because he is coming home Kurt, okay?"

Kurt nodded, the tissue now such a small wad that it had disappeared entirely into his fisted hand. She let go of his other hand, inhaling deeply and straightening up her seat. Nothing else was said as she put the key in the ignition and they finally pulled out of the driveway.

Finn leaned back in his own seat, staring back and forth between his mom and his very likely soon-to-be-stepbrother. He knew it was strange, but he was glad that Kurt and his mom had that stuff in common – he would never have known what was wrong with Kurt otherwise. He was even more glad that his mom and Burt were together – because otherwise Kurt would've been all alone right now, and that just twisted Finn's heart in ways he couldn't put words to.

He made a promise to himself to polish off as many of those casseroles as possible – and not just because he was sure they were going to be amazing, but because his mom and Kurt didn't need the reminder sitting there in the kitchen. Better they make fun of the fact that Finn was a walking, talking bottomless pit.

Maybe he could replace their old and sad memories of foiled wrapped trays and well-meaning friends, with newer, funnier ones of Finn taking in enough food to feed a small army and nearly exploding from it afterward. He could already picture his mother's smile and Kurt's raised eyebrows and teasing smirk.

The stomachache would be worth it.

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Author's Note: Sorry for keeping you all waiting – life has been dancing its usual merry jig all over my spare time. I have barely had the energy/inspiration to write more than a couple of lines a day.

That being said, I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter . . . but I wanted to get this out there, lest things gets crazy for me again.

Thank you for your patience, and for those you, anonymous and otherwise, who indulged my procrastination with The Thickness of Blood – many thanks for the well wishing when it came to my exam – which I think I passed, at the very least . . . now by what margin did I pass? I have no idea . . . *sigh*

Edit: I apologize for the melancholic tone of the above author's note: I really am so very happy that you all keep on reading and supporting me with the favourites/alerts/reviews and the like! Just had myself a tough couple of weeks, is all :) It may seem a little (a lot) silly to apologize for something like that but I'm a dork that way ;)