I took forever again :/ There's a little surprise in this chapter though. Just a little one. :)
Chapter Seven: Don't See Why
Kurt remembered the last time he had been to the hospital was when he was eight. He was running down the stairs in his socks on a Christmas morning, giddy with excitement to open his presents. There was no friction between the socks and the floor so just as easily he slipped on the top stair, fell back and hit his head on the ground then bumped and tumbled and rolled till he reached the bottom of the stairs. There was a dull, throbbing pain in his right arm which was bent in such an angle where his palm was under his back and his elbow was almost by his mouth. The bone by his elbow had protruded, stark white and gruesome with a lot of blood running down his forearm. He didn't scream because it hadn't hurt him. Half an hour later as they were wheeling him into the emergency room the synapses between his nerves started transmitting again and he had let out such a mighty howl that he was sure he had shaken the very foundations of the hospital. He had spent his Christmas and two weeks after that in the hospital.
Waking up in the bleak, white room was no different than when he woke up those years ago. The only slight alteration was that he was on drips. The hospital gown felt like itchy paper on his skin and his head felt too big for his body. His tongue wasn't swollen but when he experimentally tried to talk, his throat hurt too much. He licked his lips which had dried and peeled so badly that they felt like sandpaper against his tongue. He looked at the IV stuck in his arm and wondered what it was there for. The various machines around the room were familiar, the steady beeping of the heart monitor a comfort for him.
He closed his eyes and allowed the past events to come rushing back to him. It could have been last night or several days that it happened. Either way, it hurt. It fucking hurt. Just picturing his father being hauled away so savagely formed a lump in his throat and made the back of his eyes burn. He was surprised that he was still able to cry from all that pathetic sobbing he did that night. Kurt felt wretched and incompetent that he couldn't help Andy. It would have been fine if his father had escaped because surely he would have returned to free Kurt but both of them had been captured. He banged his head against the pillow which barely allowed his self-hatred to find a means of escape. His life was dull and barren now. He thought of what would happen after he came out of the hospital: where he would go, what the officers would do to him, if he would end up in a home to never be adopted because he was too broken for anyone to want him.
He wanted his father so badly that the emotional pain took on a solid, agonizing form that ate away at his body from the inside out. The Voice had taken this as an incentive to scold him of how worthless and useless he was and always would be. Kurt believed it because there was nothing else to prove otherwise.
The door to his hospital room opened and a male nurse in blue scrubs entered with a tray. He was young, possibly not much older than Kurt, with curly brown hair neatly gelled in an elegant quiff. He smiled sweetly at him and his big, brown eyes lit up. Kurt hated him. Here he was smiling brighter than the sun while he was drowning in his bleak world. How dare him!
"I had a feeling you would be up," he said as he uncovered the food on the tray. There were two sandwiches, a glass of orange juice and some tablets on the side. "My name is Blaine by the way and I'll be your volunteer nurse for the time you'll be spending here."
Blaine Kurt thought. What an awful name. Blaine took out a folded plastic lap table from the second shelf of the tray and unfolded it across Kurt's lap. He pushed a button by the bedhead and suddenly Kurt's upper body was lifted up into a seating position. The blood rushing down from his head had him dizzy for a second. He blinked away the lightheadedness and saw that Blaine had already placed the food on the table.
"I'm not hungry," Kurt told him. His voice grated on his own ears.
Blaine smiled again. Kurt decided he hated that smile with its infuriating cheeriness and improbable radiance. "You have to eat, Mr. Caffrey. It's about time you got some solid food in your system." He reached up and turned off the drips then looked down at him expectantly. "Do you need me to feed you?"
Kurt shot him a quizzical look then lifted his hands to show Blaine that he wasn't handicapped. He just didn't want to eat. He turned his head away from the boring food and looked out the barred window. The curtain had been drawn and he could see the city skyline of high and low buildings.
"Would you like me to open the windows for you?"
He nodded without looking at him. Blaine walked over to the window, unhooked the clasp and lifted it. The bars were still there but the rush of cool air made it easier to breathe in the stuffy, medicated room. Kurt leaned his head back on the pillow and suddenly noticed that his throat was dry. While Blaine was looking out the window, he sipped some of the orange juice and felt his salivary glands tingle at the sweetness. It must have been a while he was unconscious for his mouth to react that way.
Blaine turned around, saw the almost empty glass and quirked a brow. "I'll go get you some more," he announced and picked up the glass. As soon as he left the room Kurt gave into his hunger and bit into the sandwich. It was chicken with lettuce and tomatoes and just the right amount of ketchup. Kurt hadn't tasted chicken in weeks and sausage didn't really cut it. He ate the both sandwiches and licked the ketchup off his fingers after. Blaine returned at the perfect moment when he needed something to swallow it down.
Blaine grinned at him, a secret smile like he was laughing at things Kurt didn't know of. He scowled. He was caught red-handed. He knew that Blaine knew Kurt just needed a little alone time to get over his stubbornness. He was upset, of course, and upset people needed to be left alone sometimes. He handed Kurt the juice and he drank half the glass before controlling himself to little sips.
"It's time for your medication." He pointed to the pills on the table.
Kurt looked at the myriad of colors then turned his gaze to the volunteer. "What are they for?" His voice was slightly better after whetting his throat.
"Iron tablets, B vitamins and cal-mag supplements. You had several deficiencies but the tests say that you're okay now. You just need this one dose to settle things."
Kurt didn't know what iron or vitamins or cal-mag was needed for (what the hell was even cal-mag?) but they sounded important so he took them one by one. The iron tablet was too hard for him to swallow so Blaine had to cut it in half for him. They tasted disgusting on the way down and the scent seemed to be stuck in his nose. He screwed up his face and Blaine chuckled lightly.
"I'm not too sure but I overheard the doctors talking about discharging you today."
Kurt choked while drinking the orange juice and stared, aghast at Blaine. He noticed Kurt's expression and his smile fell. "What are they going to do with me? Where am I supposed to go?"
Blaine's expression saddened. "I'm not too sure. The police would want to interview you first and then…" He busied herself with cleaning up the table on Kurt's lap. Kurt gave him some time and when he had pushed the tray of dirty dishes outside and returned, he spoke again. "They might send you to a home."
Kurt was going to get upset but then he remembered: his best friend lived in a home too. His face brightened. "Do you get to choose?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know anything about that. Maybe, if you give them valid reasons."
Kurt nodded, absorbing the information. He wouldn't mind going to a home and if he was allowed the freedom that Sam and the others have, he may even be able to visit his father sometimes. He smiled.
Blaine frowned. "Don't get your hopes up too much. Most of the time they transfer the children to Ohio."
"Why?" Kurt asked, his hope unwavering.
"Better lawyers, better therapists, better orphanages. We don't have enough facilities here in Ashwick and Ohio is always open to taking in new kids."
"So they'll just send me straight to an orphanage?"
"It depends-"
The door suddenly opened and two men in black entered. Behind them was a woman who Kurt remembered all too well.
"You're not supposed to be in here," Blaine said crossly.
One of the men opened his jacket and pulled out his police badge. "I believe we can."
The shrew cut in. "I heard he woke up today and I came over. We need information as soon as possible before the media gets their hands on this and start messing things up. Is he ready to go?"
Blaine tried to remain professional but Kurt could see the strain this was putting on him. He was probably new here. "You need to speak to Dr. Dessai first."
The woman rolled her eyes. "We've spoken to the doctor already and he's given us the green lights. I'm kindly asking you to take out the IV and get him in some clothes so we can take him downtown."
Blaine's jaw clenched but he did what the woman wanted him too anyways. What choice did he have? In the meanwhile, Kurt looked around the room at anything but the three people there with him. He could feel all of their eyes on him, watching him intently as though he was a circus freak and they were waiting for his big performance. Kurt closed his eyes and tried to keep calm but his heart was racing a million miles a minute. He had no idea what was going to happen to him and that scared him to dangerous degrees.
Blaine returned with a first aid kit. Some of his brown hair had escaped from the neat quiff as though he had been plucking at the strands in frustration. He turned to Kurt and began to take out the IV from his arm. When he pulled out the tube blood welled to the surface and leaked with every breath Kurt took. Blaine quickly pressed a cotton ball to the area where the tube was inserted and applied pressure. He instructed Kurt to hold down the cotton as he did until he told Kurt to stop. Then he took up the kit and disappeared again without a word.
The woman was standing silently at the door, watching Blaine work with a bemused smile. After Blaine left she turned her attention to Kurt. "Ashley Sharikova, State Police," she introduced herself. "I'm sorry to disturb you," Kurt knew she wasn't, "but you're going to have to come with us to the police station as soon as you're discharged."
He knew that at some moment they would have come for him. He just thought he would have a couple days to think everything through and devise a plan on how he would get out of all the trouble without the state breathing down on his neck every minute. Unfortunately, those precious days were spent unconscious and now his time was up.
He remembered one thing she mentioned though. Kurt asked, "Why is it that the media would be interested in me?"
Kurt wasn't expecting her to answer but she did. "Ashwick hasn't had such a scandal in decades. There's no better reason than that."
Now he was intrigued. "Scandal?"
Ashley frowned. "You'll see eventually." Just then Blaine came into the room rolling a wheelchair and a duffel bag. He told Kurt he could stop applying pressure now. The cotton was soaked with blood but it had clotted.
"I'm taking him for a shower," Blaine said without looking at Ashley.
"It's amazing how much your emotions have become invested in your work, Mr. Anderson," Ashley commented. "I hope it doesn't affect your career in the long run." Her tone said anything but.
Blaine pulled the sheets off of Kurt and asked him if he could move his legs. He nodded and shifted both legs so they were dangling off the side of the bed. Then he hooked his arm around Blaine's neck and stepped off. Immediately they gave out under him but Blaine held onto him tightly. He sat him down gently in the wheelchair and placed the duffel bag on his lap. When he looked inside he saw a pair of jeans, some sneakers and a T-shirt together with a towel and a box of soap. He wondered when the last time had been since he had taken a shower.
He wheeled Kurt out of the room and down a long hall with beige walls and a stark white floor which opened up to a receptionist area. He took a left and then a right before going through double doors. The bathroom was large on this floor with around 15 shower stalls on one side and toilets on the other. Next to each stall was a changing room and some of them were occupied. Blaine wheeled him into a changing room.
"Do you need any help getting out of the gown?"
Kurt shook his head. "I think I could manage." Blaine nodded then closed the door. Kurt took off the itchy material in under a minute. He knocked on the door and Blaine opened it. Kurt peeked up at him, expecting Blaine to be looking him over with hungry eyes but he was busy getting out the soap and towel. Then again, Blaine wasn't classed in the genre of sleazy old men whom he attracted the most.
He rolled Kurt out of the stall and in front of the bathroom door. He was about to ask if he had to stand for the entire thing but in the bathroom was a little bench in front of the shower head. Blaine helped him onto it and adjusted the heat before turning on the shower. Kurt closed his eyes and hissed as the water hit sensitive spots. Blaine lowered the pressure and with a soft washcloth, he cleaned Kurt off. He blushed when Blaine reached the lower region but he was experienced so he didn't act as childish as Kurt did.
Thoughts of Andy returned in the silence. He tried to push it down but there was nothing to distract him. Blaine was silent as he dressed him. Kurt wished he would talk to him. He took in what Blaine said about being transferred to Ohio. He didn't know anyone in Ohio, had never even been there even though it was so close to Ashwick. Chills ran through his body.
"I'm afraid," he admitted quietly, not even sure if Blaine had heard him.
He did. "Everyone's afraid sometimes. It's what you do about the fear that counts." He buckled Kurt's pants.
"What if I can't do anything?"
"Then, just hang tight." He fixed his T-shirt and smiled at him. "Be brave and show them that you can take care of yourself, Kurt." His words were phrased differently but the meaning behind them stirred something in his brain, a peculiar memory that he couldn't quite remember but he knew it was there.
Kurt's eyes pricked and out of the blue he was just crying. Blaine knelt at his side and wrapped an arm around him, rubbing his back affectionately and shushing him gently. Soon he stopped and wiped away the tears.
He felt infinitely better. "I'm okay now," he told him. Blaine watched him warily for a second but stood up nonetheless. He gathered the gown and the wet towel and soap and placed them in the bag again.
"Let's get you back before that woman blows a fuse."
Kurt didn't want to go. He wanted to ask Blaine so many questions that it was hard to keep track of all of them. He didn't know where to begin or how to bring it up and they were already at the receptionist's area. And there Ashley was, signing papers and laughing with a handsome, middle-aged doctor in a white robe. It was too late.
"Goodbye, Kurt," Blaine said with a sad smile. Then he backed away and one of the men in black came and took hold of his wheelchair. His chest heaved and his throat ached and he was crying pitifully again as they wheeled him away. He bit his lip but the sobs just burst through and soon he was shaking in his chair because every awful thing came back to him and this reminded him too much of when they took him away from Andy. All he wanted was to be left alone. He didn't need officials and State County in his life but they pushed themselves in and ruined everything.
Ashley wordlessly handed him a rag which he let fall into his lap. He didn't want anything from her. They left the hospital and approached a black SUV with darkly tinted windows. The other man opened the door and Ashley got in first followed by Kurt with some assistance. The wheelchair was folded up and placed in the trunk.
The men took the front row and seconds later they were driving away. Kurt had tried to stop crying. He was shivering now.
"I hope you won't be a problem, Mr. Caffrey, and you'll assist us in solving this case," Ashley said, completely ignoring his emotional state.
He was too tired to bother and rested his head on the glass pane. His crying got quieter. He couldn't understand what made his situation a case that needed to be solved. The police didn't help him in any way. He found no reason to return it.
