Burt Hummel was, for once, hoping to be put on hold. The annoyingly calm and helpful woman on the other end of the phone was asking him questions-was it an emergency, did he need law enforcement or medical services, and was he calling to report a friend, family member, colleague or acquaintance. Burt kept on giving one-word answers as he fidgeted and sweated profusely. Finally, the lady transferred him over to another person. This one was another woman, who sounded eerily like Kurt. "Great," Burt muttered to himself. "Just great."

"Hi, this is Hannah Ferloc, Lima County's child welfare officer. Would you like to file a report?"

Would he like to? Of course not! Burt rolled his eyes before answering her question. "Yeah. It's my son's boyfriend."

The woman jumped onto that piece of information. "Your son is in an abusive relationship? Oh my goodness, I am so sorry, sir-"

"It's Burt. Burt Hummel. And my kid's fine. The boyfriend is the one in trouble. His dad, well, his dad's kind of abusive. And more than kind of alcoholic. He beats his wife, and I'm pretty sure he knocks Blaine- the son- around too, but if he doesn't he sure as hell screws around with his mind. Blaine's got panic disorder now, and his dad sets him off. This guy is messed up."

Hannah gave off a sympathetic sigh. "Thank you for reporting this Mr. Hummel. Can I get your name on record?"

"Like hell you can. And the dad- Jackson Anderson, You want an address?" Burt was calm now that he had control of the situation.

"That would be wonderful. Our immediate concern is the family's safety, of course. Do you know if Blaine lives with his father? Since he's a minor, we could take him into protective services."

"He's with us. Been here for a week. But, he can't stay forever…we don't have much room, we have another son, and it…" Burt trailed off, not sure if he knew or liked where this was going.

"Naturally. If I could get Mr. Anderson's contact information, and yours?"

As he rattled off the names and numbers, Burt felt strangely at peace. For better or for worse, he had done it.

….

Across town, Kurt Hummel was about to take a leap of his own. Blaine was visiting a new therapist, recommended by the hospital, to discuss his panic attacks. Since the confrontation with his father, Blaine had been set off by a King's Island commercial, a dumpster, and, most embarrassingly, Puck, whom he had seen at the Glee barbeque Kurt had dragged him to the previous afternoon.

After dropping Blaine off in front of the shrink's office, Kurt headed to his favorite coffee joint grabbed an iced mocha and a bench outside, prepared to dip into some Jane Austen and enjoy the sun. Midway through Sense and Sensibility, (Blaine reminded him of Elinor) he felt a tap on his shoulder. That tap could only come from one person. Kurt's blood ran cold as he turned to face his new nemesis.

"Rachel."

Rachel hurried to compose her face into an icy glare. If he hadn't known better, Kurt would have thought that he saw a glimmer of remorse in Rachel's eyes. "But I know things now." He reminded himself. "I know things about her."

"Kurt. Hi." Rachel seemed genuinely uncomfortable, rearranging the neckline of her ridiculous peasant blouse repeatedly before speaking again. "May I sit here?"

Kurt ignored her nod towards the spot beside him. "Oh, no." His voice was getting higher and higher. "I might selfishly trigger a panic attack in you, too. Y'know, since there's such a deep connection between you and Blaine!"

What came next was unexpected for everyone involved. Rachel, teary eyed, reached out to Kurt, as if she was going to cradle his impish chin in her hands. The she slapped him. Hard.

"You slapped me!" Kurt murmured thickly through the blood gushing out of his nose. "You slapped me."

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!" Frantic, Rachel passed Kurt a tissue from her purse. "I just-Kurt, bad things have happened to you. I know. But, still, Kurt, other people get hurt, too. Blaine needs to be defended, now. The relationship can't work. I'm sorry. It can't."

Kurt's voiced dropped to a whisper. "Rachel, who carried him home from the damn barbeque? Who sings to him every night now? Who threw out two pairs of designer shoes that triggered attacks? Rachel, you think you get it. You honestly do, don't you?" He ignored the tissue, letting blood drip down onto his shirt. "See this, Rachel Berry? This is me not hitting you back. This is me ruining a very attractive shirt. Take a good, long, look. Because I refuse to be in your presence any longer. Maybe in the fall, but not now. Just- not now."

For the first time in her life, Rachel didn't say anything. She only blinked rapidly, and walked away, tripping over her platform sandals as she went. Kurt debated momentarily between crying and laughing. Glancing down at his very gory shirt, Kurt laughed until he cried.

Sorry for my extended absence! Life has been kind of a wreck. My story is kind of a wreck. I promise, we'll resolve the Mr. Anderson issue soon. Anything else that needs fixing?

Also, I'm about to start a new Fic. It features Klaine as adults (In NYC, of course) and Blaine's niece Lauren, who has a bit of a secret as well as some very closed-minded parents. I'll keep y'all posted.