Thank you for all of the reviews - they really mean a lot and I know the story is going quite slowly at the moment. Here is one more filler chapter here (which I hope people like) and then next chapter things will move on a little. Please enjoy and review :)
True to his word, Doctor Carlton consulted with the hospital psychologist who promptly recommended a specialist who, though she was not officially a member of the hospital staff, was often brought in because of the long list of creditable results she attained. When Carlton had popped in to inform them of this come late morning, both Burt and Kurt had been somewhat sceptical. Successful results on a computer balance sheet were not what they were looking for; they needed someone who would and could put the time and effort in, on a practical basis, to understand what Blaine had been through and hopefully, eventually, help him overcome his past. Carole may have been better at explaining these needs than either of the Hummel men, who were both a little too emotionally attached, and knew it. However, Carole had not yet ventured back into work which initially, Burt had put down to the fact that she would be tired after being on her feet all night, and thus she rightfully deserved a lie-in, but then as the afternoon arrived, he began to suspect his wonderfully understanding fiancé was leaving them to it until she was needed, not wanting to cause Blaine any unnecessary anxiety by having a stranger around him. So Burt and Kurt played the waiting game until the specialist, Doctor Rosemary Summers, showed up.
Burt had called Jim, his right-hand man at work to let him know he wouldn't be in that day, and simultaneously, the loyal mechanic had informed him that he had finished up clearing out the spare room for him the night before, shortly before Finn arrived home, and had a bed and mattress order. Burt gratefully ensured his friend that he would pay the bill when he was able to leave the hospital. His next call had been to McKinley to inform the secretaries that Kurt would not be at school for the next couple of days because of a family emergency. Kurt did not know why, but it he felt good, almost happy – a contrasting feeling to his overriding mood of misery that day – when his dad inferred to Blaine being family. It felt… right.
The horrible, vicious cycle of Blaine sleeping peacefully for a few hours and then waking up screaming continued throughout the day, with no rest. Burt was now able to see just why Kurt had been in the state he had been early that morning, because literally every time Blaine awoke crying, he apologised profusely for every little detail: causing their lack of sleep, taking up their time, leaving Kurt alone all those years ago, and then, for some things the mechanic could not even understand. The most disturbing feverish apology came in the form of 'I killed her', and although Burt was certain little Blaine Anderson wouldn't harm a soul, just hearing the words spill from the kid's lips worried him. Just what had Jonathan Anderson been brainwashing his son into believing of himself? The boy only stayed awake for a few minutes each time – an hour at best, though most of it was spent with him sobbing, or dealing out these consistent apologies, no matter how much the Hummel men tried to encourage him otherwise, before he slipped exhaustedly into unconsciousness again. It was a sight that literally pulled at the heartstrings.
It had to be around the fifth time that Blaine had woken up that day, and fortunately, he was relatively calm this time, that Doctor Rosemary Summers arrived, introduced by Carlton himself. Burt stood politely to greet the woman, though at the mere sight of Carlton, Blaine whimpered and closed his eyes, squeezing Kurt's hand tightly, a gesture which the older boy gladly returned. Moments later, Carlton got the message and excused himself.
Doctor Summers was not quite what Burt had been expecting. Though he had no real experience of psychologists, or psychiatrists for that matter, he had been picturing in his head something to the effect of a tall, middle-aged, stuffy, eagle-eyed woman with a tweed jacket, a long tartan, pencil skirt and horn-rimmed glasses. Summers was almost the antithesis of this. Granted, she was quite tall, and she did look as though she was approaching her mid-forties, however all other stereotypical features were absent. Rather than a tweed jacket and tartan skirt, she wore a pale pink fleecy polo neck top and smart blue jeans, tucked neatly into comfortable-looking, low heel boots. Her long, brown hair had been scooped up into a ponytail rather than a tight bun – another feature that both Burt and Kurt had admittedly imagined, and she did not wear glasses, horn-rimmed or otherwise. Nor did she exhibit narrow, eagle-eyes. Her jade green eyes and her face as an overall picture radiated kindness and a quiet professionalism.
Burt thought he felt himself relax slightly, and looked over at Blaine, trying to gauge the boy's reaction, however his eyes were still tight shut, as if blocking out the world would ease his helpless fears. He sighed anxiously and looked back at the specialist, whose eyes were also trained on Blaine, an intent but otherwise unreadable expression upon her face. Summers turned back to him after several moments, moved the clipboard and pen she had been holding loosely in one hand and extended her other towards him.
"Rosemary Summers." She introduced herself in a friendly, but professional manner.
Burt shook the specialist's hand politely, "Burt Hummel." He nodded towards Kurt who was eyeing Summers suspiciously. "This is my son, Kurt, and…" he paused as he saw Blaine begin to tremble slightly in the bed. The poor kid knew there was someone new in the room, and he was already terrified before even seeing them. "and this is Blaine." He finished as gently as possible, hoping the teenager would gather the courage to open his eyes. He didn't.
Summers nodded to them all politely before releasing Burt's hand, glancing briefly at her clipboard. Burt wondered what was written on there, however he figured that because it looked remarkably similar to Carlton's clipboard, she must have borrowed the doctor's case notes. After a few moments, Summers moved towards the chair which Burt had vacated.
"Would it be alright if I sat here?" she asked politely, and Burt nodded his consent, moving over to the far corner of the room where an abandoned plastic chair sat, unused until this moment, seating himself there to watch over the situation. Blaine must have heard the woman speak because the quivering increased. He noticed that Kurt tried to hush him every once in a while, but his son's words didn't seem to be having much of the desired effect.
"Hi, Blaine." Summers said softly, but not patronisingly, assessing Blaine's reactions with her eyes, though her mouth held a gentle smile. "My name is Doctor Rosemary Summers." She paused, waiting for any response from the shaking, terrified boy on the bed. He still did not open his eyes. "I've heard… and I can see, that you've been through a lot." Burt saw Blaine's chin tremble as she paused again. "If you'll let me, I'm here to try and help you." Another pause. "I'm not here to hurt you, Blaine, I promise." She said calmly before repeating emphatically. "I'm only here to try and help. For me to do that, I need for us to be able to communicate, and I think for this to happen we need to learn to trust each other. Eye contact, however brief, is a good first step, don't you think?"
Burt watched Blaine for any minute difference in response, other than the shaking wreck of a boy. When there was none, he looked back to Summers, waiting for her next move. She did not make one. She paused for a minute, then two, then three, waiting patiently, but not pushing the terrified kid. For that, Burt was grateful. He didn't know much about the human mind, but he knew Blaine and he knew that the boy couldn't handle even the slightest pressure at the moment.
After a few more minutes, Blaine opened and closed his mouth several times, a fraught, choking sound reverberating from his throat, as if he was trying and struggling to speak. Eventually, he whispered a shaky, "K-Kurt?"
Instantly, Kurt was leaning forwards, his grip still tight on Blaine's good hand, his eyes fiercely protective of his younger friend, "I'm right here, honey." He promised softly, and Burt thought he sounded so much like his mother at that moment, it was unreal. "I'm still here."
Blaine, still with closed eyes, made another attempt at forming a sentence before he pleaded quietly to Summers, "P-Please don't… don't s-send m-me back. P-Please don't m-make them l-leave."
"I'm staying right here, Blaine, I promise." Kurt stated, staring at the specialist as if daring her to object.
Summers however, just smiled good-naturedly. "You're not going back anywhere, Blaine. And if you want them here, then Kurt and Burt are quite welcome to stay. Anything that makes you feel comfortable."
Upon hearing this, the quivering in Blaine's body seemed to ease up slightly, and he let out a small but clearly sincere, "Th-Thank you."
"You're quite welcome." The specialist replied kindly. After a brief pause, she wheedled her request again, "Would you mind opening your eyes for me, Blaine?" Burt watched as she nodded to Kurt, silently encouraging him to aid her in her attempts to coax Blaine out of his current state. The mechanic had to admit that this woman was good; she had only been in the room ten minutes and she had already sussed out the unbreakable bond between Kurt and Blaine. If you needed one to do something, then get the other one to help the cause and the results came about twice as fast.
Sure enough, when Kurt gently encouraged, "It's okay, Blaine. No one's going to hurt you. You can open your eyes", a few seconds later, the younger boy's eyes flickered open hesitantly, one at a time. Blaine didn't seem to be able to quite meet the woman's eyes for a few minutes, and when he did, he hastily glanced away again, but it was certainly progress.
"Hi, Blaine." Summers said calmly, that same gentle smile on her face as before, her eyes again surveying the kid. It was as if she had the power to see everything the boy was feeling just from looking into his broken, deadened hazel eyes. "Now that you're here in all senses of the word, let's introduce ourselves to each other properly, eh?"
She paused, waiting for his response. It was a mark of how much Kurt's words had gotten through to him that Blaine felt comfortable enough to nod his assent.
"Okay, I'm Doctor Rosemary Summers." The woman explained carefully. "I'm here to just ask a few questions that will help us understand a little bit about how you're feeling, and because you're not really up to seeing any police officers about the assault-"
Blaine's eyes widened in fear at the prospect and the slightest reminder of the attack; he began to tremble again. Summers noticed and she was quick to reassure him.
"- I'll just ask a few questions about that as well. You don't have to answer them if you don't want to, Blaine. Just know that in the long-run it may well help to talk about it, okay?"
This time, Blaine didn't nod. He only looked fearfully towards Kurt who, Burt could see, was only just about keeping it together himself. The encouraging smile stretched onto his face was far to strained to be legitimate. Again, Summers didn't push the matter. She waited a good few minutes, giving both boys time to collect themselves before continuing slowly.
"We'll just start with some easy questions, okay?" she said, looking Blaine in the eye to emphasise her point, though the boy didn't seem capable of staring back at the moment. His despondent gaze had reverted to the bedclothes.
Burt wished that there was something he could do that would prevent Blaine undergoing this awful scrutiny. Even though Burt knew that ultimately this would help Blaine along the tentative first steps of recovery, another side of him wanted to neglect the official system and just take the kid home.
"Could you just tell me your full name?"
Kurt, who already seemed to be running a short fuse patience-wise, snapped suddenly, "You already know that! Why are you asking him stupid questions that you already know the answers to when he obviously just wants to be left alone?"
Summers appraised and addressed Kurt calmly, but with a gentleness that Doctor Carlton's patronising tone the day before hadn't contained, "From what we have gathered Blaine hasn't lived in Lima for a little while; we have no doctors records and no filed medical history as of yet. With a full name and a date of birth we may be able to track these down. Apart from anything, Doctor Carlton needs to know if Blaine is allergic to anything that he may prescribe."
The entire time the specialist spoke, Blaine just stared blankly at the coverlet. Burt was concerned that he did not seem to react at all to these words. The kid had suddenly transformed from a terrified, quivering wreck to a case of completely blank disassociation.
"Fine," Kurt retorted and Burt closed his eyes tiredly. He knew that his son just wanted to protect his best friend, but now just wasn't the right time. However much Burt hated this lousy process himself, in the long-run, it would help Blaine so he knew intervening was unwise. "Fine. His full name is Blaine Devon Anderson and his date of birth is June 5th 1995. Happy?"
"Kurt." Burt interjected sharply, and Kurt's head turned so rapidly towards his direction that it must have given him neck-ache. He hated how betrayed his son looked that he wasn't backing him up on this, but he knew he was doing the right thing. "Just let Doctor Summers do her job, bud." He nodded pointedly at Blaine's positively catatonic state. The boy hadn't moved since Summers asked her first question, and he was aware that Blaine needed to react to these questions himself if the specialist was going to figure out the correct way to heal him.
Kurt's face went chalk white when he saw the younger boy's expression, and he clamped his mouth shut, whispering a brief 'sorry'.
"That's quite alright, Kurt." Summers answered kindly, and Burt wondered if Kurt's reaction happened all the time from friends and family members because she seemed well-practiced in responding to it. She turned her attention back to a still very blank-looking Blaine, "Kurt's made it easier for you, Blaine… those are two questions you don't need to answer now." She said calmly, writing her findings on the clipboard in her lap.
Once she had finished, she paused, studying Blaine again. He still wasn't moving. He was barely blinking.
"Blaine." She said gently, quietly commanding his attention.
Again, he did not respond, just staring wide-eyed at the bedclothes.
"Blaine." Summers repeated, a little louder and with more insistence than before.
He suddenly blinked, hurriedly looking up at the woman as if he had forgotten her presence completely, retreating into his own terrifying world. "I'm s-sorry." He whispered quickly, fear evident in his eyes.
"What are you apologising for?" she asked calmly.
Cowering away, as if scared he would be physically punished at any moment, Blaine stammered quickly, "I w-wasn't l-l-listening like I should be. I'm s-sorry. I-"
"That's okay." Summers was quick to reassure the boy, hastily scribbling some notes in shorthand, even though the majority of her attention was on Blaine himself. "I'm not angry." She nodded to the room at large. "None of us are going to get mad at you, and we're especially not going to hurt you for that, okay? If you're not ready to answer the questions or if you find yourself drifting off then we'll just wait – there's no time limit here. If you're up to it though, I'd especially encourage you to say what you're thinking if that happens again."
Blaine's cowering lessened slightly, and he even managed a small nod, though he still looked absolutely terrified.
"Good." She praised. "Okay, here we go again." She said lightly, her pen poised. "Are you aware of having any allergies to any form of medication?"
The question went down well, Blaine answering with a small shake of the head.
"Before you came here to the hospital, were you on any medication? Even over-the-counter stuff like Tylenol?"
Again, Blaine shook his head, his eyes wide and scared, but clearly sincere.
"Have you recently been taking or even, have you taken within the past few years, any illegal drugs? It's okay if you have – " she added hastily. "you're not going to get into trouble. We just need to find out some basic medical history."
Burt held his breath. He hoped Blaine wouldn't have succumbed to such a thing but six years had passed; six years too many in which the troubled boy had been forced to cope on his own, with violent Jonathan Anderson for a father, and he knew that kids with troubled childhoods often found solace in substance abuse or drugs. Also, Burt had heard stories of what it was like to live on the streets. It was rough and some felt the need to take goodness knows what in order to cope. So it came as a huge relief when Blaine instantly shook his head. He watched with a small, proud smile as Summers noted this down.
"Okay, you're doing really well, Blaine." The specialist commended before continuing with the questions. "Have you been in hospital at all during the last few years or so?"
Burt felt sick when the boy visible paled and froze. The silence was damning. It took only a few seconds for Blaine to start shaking again, the fear in his face intensifying. Jonathan had hurt his son so badly he had ended up in the hospital again hadn't he? Burt became conscious of the fact that his fingers were curling into tight fists and quickly tried to relax them.
"Oh, Blaine," Kurt whimpered, his emotions already on edge due to his lack of sleep, tears welling in his expressive glasz eyes. "Please… no."
Of course, as had always been the case, Blaine took one look at Kurt's pale, tearful face and began to cry as well, apologising repeatedly for upsetting the older boy. Again. And as before, the kid wouldn't stop. It had been going so well. Burt lowered his head into his hands, wishing he knew how to deal with all of this; how to make it all better. He wished he had a time machine to alter his reaction to Jonathan's empty threat the day he took Blaine away to goodness knows where.
"Blaine," Kurt sniffed. "Please… just stop apologising. Please…"
Blaine tried to take notice, Burt could see that. But he could also see how difficult it was for him. It was as if he had been taught, or more like bullied into fearing almost everyone and into apologising for every little thing, whether it was his fault or not. It was a force of habit and suddenly they were telling him the opposite. The poor kid was clearly so confused and that was only adding to his fear. Burt was more inclined to believe that often Blaine had been made to apologise for things that were not his fault, knowing Jonathan's extremely Machiavellian ways. The eldest Anderson had done it to his wife, and then he had the gall to do it to his youngest son, a kid who would demonstrate only sweetness and kindness, and once-upon-a-time, a childish naivety. Anderson had clearly taken advantage of the latter, manipulating it so that over the years, the kid had started to believe his every deprecating word.
For a while, Summers watched the proceedings, occasionally jotting things down.
"Please, Blaine." Kurt tried pleading with his friend again. "Stop."
"Take a few deep breaths, Blaine." Summers advised calmly, finally stepping in. Burt watched helplessly with a pained expression as the kid obeyed, desperately trying to right himself for Kurt's sake, however uncomfortable the inhaling breaths were due to the tube still feeding through his nose.
Eventually, Blaine calmed, though he looked thoroughly mortified at his outburst, and he kept whispering stagnated apologies every so often. Doctor Summers clearly thought it more prudent to move onto a different question for the moment. Burt thought he would have agreed until he realised the next question's actual topic.
"Blaine, I need you to really try and stay as calm as you possibly can for this, okay?" she pressed gently. "I know you're feeling poorly, and this is going to be upsetting, but it's necessary for the police to know about the assault."
Blaine tensed, tears dribbling down his cheeks again, though from the way his jaw was clenched, Burt could see that the boy was trying his hardest to stay strong and obey the specialist's instructions. This was the very last thing the kid wanted to talk about right now. He looked too tired and scared and tearful, but Burt so badly wanted to make the bastard that assaulted the boy pay, so he didn't interrupt. Kurt, who was emotionally wiped from Blaine's breakdown a few minutes previously, was clearly in no position to react either. He just watched miserably from the side-lines, his grip on Blaine's hand tighter than ever.
"Were you sexually active before?" Summers asked softly.
Blaine let out an awful, heartbroken squeak and shook his head. Kurt let out an audible sniff, and Burt gritted his teeth angrily.
"Do you remember what happened?" she continued carefully.
Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, causing yet more tears to roll unchecked down his cheeks. It was clear the boy was reliving the dark, hellish moment in his mind. Biting his lip hard to suppress a whimper – an action which didn't really succeed, Blaine nodded slowly.
"Do you think you can describe what the assailant looked like?"
They all waited for a good few minutes for Blaine to summon the courage to reply. When he did, he made the same choking noises as before, obviously struggling to voice his memories, "T-Tall… s-strong" the kid sniffed, failing to conceal a sob. He bowed his head shamefully. "I'm s-sorry."
Burt knew he had to say something now. He couldn't let the kid be sorry for expressing fear; not when he was being so brave. "Don't be sorry, buddy." He said firmly. Blaine opened his eyes and looked to him vulnerably, seeking a reassurance he so desperately needed. "You're doing so good. You keep going." He encouraged.
He was pleased that Blaine listened and did not repeat the apologies this time.
The boy took several long inhaling breaths, this time without Doctor Summers needing to suggest such an action, and then continued faintly, "He w-wore a… b-black… h-hoody. C-Couldn't see his face p-properly… he h-had a b-balaclava."
"Do you remember the colour of the balaclava? Any patterns on it or was it plain?" Summers pushed gently.
Blaine began to shake once more, "S-Striped. I… I d-don't remember the colour… I d-didn't see his f-f-face for… for l-long. I'm s-sorr-."
"No, that's good, Blaine." The specialist praised soothingly, scribbling more notes onto the clipboard. "Did you see anything of his face?"
The teenager's chin trembled; he was beginning to show signs of falling apart again: "Eyes." He whispered fearfully, his own hazel orbs wide and staring suddenly at blank the wall in front of him, as if he was seeing the harsh eyes of his attacker projected right there in the hospital room. "H-His eyes." Blaine's voice rose considerably in pitch, further demonstrating his absolute terror.
"Do you recall the colour of the eyes? Were there any distinguishable features?"
Yet more droplets flowed unchecked down Blaine's sickly pale face and his trembling was growing increasingly violent and almost uncontrollable. As he sat virtually bolt upright in bed, staring fearfully at the wall, the odd spasmodic sobs becoming audible, Burt realised alarmingly just how much his beaten boy was a far cry from the kid he had known. Looking at Summers' calm, but clearly concerned eyes, Burt began to fear that maybe they had lost him for good; perhaps Blaine would not be able to heal from this, fully or otherwise.
"A-A-Angry." Blaine suddenly choked out, a rare note of ferocity to his usually gentle, and currently weak tone. It seemed that due to the wildness of his trembling, and the unthinkable image in his mind, Blaine was incapable of full sentences.
Summers seemed to understand.
"He was angry?"
Blaine didn't altogether confirm or deny the question; he seemed too absorbed in his own hellish nightmare. "H-He w-was s-s-so big and I-I couldn't f-fight h-him off. I b-begged him to stop and he w-w-wouldn't."
The poor boy was now fully sobbing again, grieving for something so precious that had been forcibly taken from him. Kurt too had tears running silently down his own cheeks, and his grip on Blaine's hand now seemed so fiercely protective that it was probably bruising.
"H-He kept … g-g-grunting…" Burt closed his eyes, trying not to imagine the abuse the boy was describing; the picture of an evil bastard getting himself off inside a terrified kid. It was too wrong… too heart-breaking and too… sickening to bear thinking about. "A-And he s-s-sounded m-mad. I… I tried to g-get away… p-p-push him o-off and h-he… he b-b-bended m-my arm until it… it-"
Blaine did not even need to finish the sentence as all eyes fell on his broken arm.
"I-It h-h-hurt." He cried wretchedly, his nose running carelessly. "It all h-hurt. I d-didn't want it. I-I wasn't r-ready." He repeated the same words he had confessed to Burt yesterday.
"And he was wrong to do it, Blaine." Doctor Summers finally spoke, in a firm, emphatic voice, articulating slowly so that the boy, from wherever his head was at, may conceivably hear her. "It was wrong."
"I-I angered h-him." Blaine whispered tremulously, still not shifting eye contact from the white-washed wall so that he almost appeared to be talking to himself. Perhaps he was. "It w-was my f-f-fault… my p-punishment."
"Jeez, no!" Kurt suddenly cried, his voice passionate, though a little unsteady. The tears were still running strong, but that didn't stop him. "No, Blaine. This is not and never will be your fault!"
"I told you that before, remember, bud?" Burt also decided to mention, hoping that if enough people regurgitated this fact for long enough, maybe, just maybe, Blaine would realise the truth in it.
Unfortunately, the kid did not seem to be listening, or if he was, he obviously did not believe them. If anything, he cried harder – huge sobs wracking his tiny, malnourished frame. "It was m-my f-f-fault! M-My punishment! H-He knew… he s-s-saw…"
"Blaine," Summers proceeded calmly; the voice of reason amongst a virtually hysterical family. "Why do you think you were being punished? Why do you think the attack was your fault?"
"B-B-Because… b-because of w-w-what happened that n-night-" Blaine's eyes widened further, as if he was once more realising there were people around him. He stopped abruptly, everyone wondering what he had been going to say.
"What night?" Summers questioned; her ears sharp, instantly catching the information.
Blaine did not answer. Instead, he continued to cry pitifully. He even made a visible effort to regain his natural breathing pattern, but he almost choked.
"What night, Blaine?" Summers pushed, apparently of the training to extract information out of a patient whilst they were at their most vulnerable.
Kurt did not seem to agree with this at all. At seeing his best friend crumble further, cowering away from the firmness in her voice, he snapped protectively: "Leave him alone!"
Burt did not intervene this time. The young boy in the bed looked dangerously pale, and was clearly weakening from the sheer momentum of the tears and memories assaulting his body and mind. Blaine had just had enough.
Summers glanced between the two boys, grasping that she was not going to get any further with that question. She opened her mouth to ask another when Blaine suddenly cried unexpectedly:
"I-It w-was my f-f-fault. He kn-knew… knew I'm …g… g-gay. He m-m-must've seen it – that's w-why h-he…"
And suddenly everyone understood. Blaine thought that just because he was gay and because he liked males, he deserved to be harmed by another man. He actually thought that the rapist had realised he was gay and had done it to him because of it! Burt could not stop his fingers from curling into angry fists anymore; his blunt nails dug painfully into his rough palms, providing at least some feeling within his numb body.
"No, sweetie." Kurt whimpered miserably, rubbing the back of Blaine's hand soothingly with his thumb. "No, that… that isn't right, I promise."
Summers placed her pen and clipboard down carefully into her lap before clasping her hands together, a wedding band coming into view, encircling one of her fingers.
"Blaine." She stated calmly. "I want you to look at me."
Blaine continued to stare resolutely at the wall, choking down more sobs.
"Blaine." She repeated with more resolution. "Look at me."
The boy trembled some more and Burt was sure that if his body wasn't screwed together, he would fall apart completely
"Blaine." Was all she uttered this time.
The short but firm command in her voice seemed to make it virtually impossible to obey and gradually, the teenager's gaunt face turned so that his wide, dreading eyes were on her.
"Listen to me carefully. This isn't your fault, Blaine." Summers repeated both Hummels' sentiments emphatically. "If you come out of this with one thought in your head, it needs to be the realisation that this rape wasn't your fault."
Blaine opened his mouth to object tearfully, his face paler than ever, but was prevented by the specialist's swift continuation.
"Your sexual orientation – whatever it is – does not merit or excuse sexual assault." She stared at him intensely, as if to communicate her words through eye contact as well as words. Perhaps it was working to some extent, because the kid fortunately didn't look away. "Because, Blaine, that's what it was. You didn't want it, and you didn't deserve it. Therefore, it is rape. Whether you're gay or not – something it is extremely unlikely he would have realised just from appearance – you didn't want to have sex with him and so, it is him that's in the wrong. Not you. You were the victim. You're completely innocent in all this."
Burt could imagine any number of reasons for the rapist acting the way he did. Lima could be a rough town at times, with some people spiteful enough to hurt a kid in such a way just for fun and a bit on the side. Queens Park wasn't the safest of areas these days and he had read about and watched on the news that a number of muggings and rapes had taken place there – that was why he encouraged Kurt and his friends not to hang out there anymore. But he couldn't recall any of the victims being males. So could it be that the perpetrator was a closeted homosexual, who in an unaccepting town, committed such acts out of desperation? But that most certainly did not make it right. Burt (and he knew Kurt would as well though he wouldn't ever let him) would be glad to hunt down the asshole who harmed this kid and make him hurt… badly and for a long, long time.
"This isn't your fault, bud." Burt decided to pick up the tail end of Summers' explanation quickly, before Blaine could gather a case against it; finding more ways to justify it and beat himself down. "Whoever hurt you is a sick, sick bastard and he'll be found and punished for what he's done, I promise you that."
Throughout his speech, the mechanic noticed that the teenager's already pale face was growing whiter still, and by the final few words, his skin had tinged green. Blaine was still releasing stagnated sobs amidst odd choking inflexions in his throat (his futile attempts to stop crying), and upon seeing the boy's eyes widen in shock, his had ripping from Kurt's to try and cover his mouth, Burt knew what was coming.
By the time Blaine had managed a small 'feel sick', Burt had sought out a small, disposable papier-mâché-like bowl sitting on the bedside table and placed it hastily under the boy's chin. The next few minutes were filled with the sight and sounds of Blaine retching pitifully into the container. Every time he did, he let out a helpless moan that continued to place cracks in the mechanics heart. The kid was so weak he couldn't even hold the damn thing himself so Burt crouched down and held it for him. He watched with his own stomach lurching as nothing but water, saliva and stomach acid found its way into the bowl. He dreaded to think when the kid last ate.
Kurt was brilliant. Despite his obvious pain (a part of Burt wanted to send his son out of the room so he didn't have to see this), Kurt steadfastly reclaimed Blaine's hand with one of his own and stroked his other soothingly through the younger boy's sweaty curls. His touch seemed to do wonder's for Blaine who calmed slightly after almost choking as he both sobbed and vomited.
"Try to calm down buddy," Burt advised him. "You're only making it worse by all these tears."
Kurt repeated his words; after a few, long minutes, Blaine's crying eased up and consequently, so did his sickness.
"Okay?" Burt asked the boy once he was sure the retching had stopped.
Blaine only nodded, bowing his head in shame, looking away from everyone in the room.
"It's okay, honey." Kurt whispered into the awkward silence. "It'll be alright."
Burt sighed heavily and got to his feet, ignoring the twinge in his back, carrying the disgusting bowl into the adjoining bathroom. He emptied its contents down the toilet and flushed it before moving back into the room.
He took one look at Blaine and then turned to Doctor Summers, who had been calm, but concerned throughout the previous proceedings.
"He's had enough." He said plainly, and was glad when she nodded.
"Yes." She agreed before facing Blaine again. Although the boy had now curled in on himself, looking away from everyone in mortification at what had just happened, she didn't seem to mind speaking to his retreated back just this once. She understood that he wasn't trying to be rude. "You've done very well, Blaine. I know it doesn't feel like it, but in the circumstances, you have." She looked down at her clipboard and then back up. "When you're feeling a bit better and a little more settled, I'll come talk to you again, okay?"
Blaine did not respond verbally, but he did not entirely forget his compulsive manners and he gave a half-nod.
"Okay. I hope you feel a bit better soon, Blaine." Summers smiled gently, standing and walking towards the door. "Mr Hummel, could I have word?"
Dreading to see what Summers' psychological assessment of Blaine was after that exhibition (not that it was the poor boy's fault of course), Burt nodded dully, following her to the door.
"I'll be back in a few minutes." He addressed to Kurt, who was eyeing them suspiciously. The teenager nodded reluctantly and went back to comforting his friend.
Once they were on the other side of the door, the sounds of he busy hospital ward flooded through Burt's ears. He could smell chlorine again and hear children laughing or crying from somewhere on the ward. Following the specialist up to a rather more secluded corridor, they sat in two vacant plastic chairs. Summers was silent for a few moments, flipping through her notes, of which he now noticed there were several pages worth. He could hear what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth.
"I'm not putting him on the psych ward." He said stubbornly.
Summers looked back up at him calmly, "I wasn't actually going to suggest that." She admitted quietly.
"You weren't?" Burt asked, confused. He had to admit; he knew nothing of this area, but if it weren't for the fact that Blaine was… well, quite frankly, someone he classed as… his kid, then he would probably prescribe a bit of professional help himself.
"No." she answered simply. "I wasn't. I know that probably Bob Carlton and some of his colleagues might not agree with me, but I think he might benefit more from being in a loving environment."
"What do you mean?" Burt asked, hoping this 'loving environment' meant being with them.
She studied him for a second before replying, "Blaine is not only suffering from serious emotional and psychological shock as a result of the assault, but there are deeper factors… much deeper scars. From what I've been told, and from what I've seen, Blaine's reluctance to talk about anything prior to the rape – his home life for example… his family… shows that he's also in shock about that as well… like he's suffered something quite terrible at the hands of his family." He could hear the questioning tone in her voice.
"His mom killed herself… um… overdosed on sleeping pills when he was four. She was good to him, but she probably couldn't take living with his father anymore." Burt admitted darkly, rubbing a hand over his still tired eyes.
Summers noted this down. "His father was violent." She surmised, rather than asked. She was a smart one.
Burt couldn't help but grit his teeth, "Yes. After his mom died Blaine became his father's very own personal punching bag. And I am… terrified to think about what happened to him after they moved away." He admitted.
At Summers' questioning look, Burt proceeded to tell her all that he had told Carole the day before. By the time he had finished, the mechanic was ashamed to realise his voice was cracking and he had shed a few of his own tears. He hastily swiped at them. His job wasn't to cry in this matter. He had to be the strong one.
"And you have no idea where Blaine and his father have lived for the past six years?"
"Nope." Burt growled. "If I did, I'd go and tear Jonathan Anderson limb from limb myself. The police wouldn't have a chance at getting there first." He didn't care that he was telling a specialist this. It was just how he felt. Weren't you supposed to be honest with these people?
"There's no need for that." Summers told him, although he was surprised to see that she was wearing a small smile. "From what you've told me, we have enough to at least start making a case to warrant Jonathan Anderson's arrest. If it's okay, I'll pass this information onto the police."
Burt shrugged his acceptance before frowning, "Doesn't that breach patient confidentiality or something, 'cause I'm not sure Blaine… in the state he's in, would want to tell the police all of this. He spent years hiding it?" He thought back to those five years in which the boy hid his home life from Burt, and from Kurt for at least a small amount of time.
Summers shrugged, "If it helps Blaine in the long-run, then it's my duty to report it." A glint appeared in her eye; the smile on her face growing shrewder. "And besides, he's not technically my patient… yet. I don't work here." She reminded him.
"Yet?" Burt questioned suspiciously.
She clasped her hands together, studying him seriously, "I think it'd be important, if Blaine takes an out-patient status, for him to talk to someone at least several times a week. It may not seem like it at the moment, but in seeing Blaine at his most vulnerable right now, it may be easier for him to talk to me in the future rather than someone unknown."
Burt nodded. That made sense.
"If he agrees." Summers added diplomatically. "We can't after all, force him to do anything that he doesn't really want to do. At the moment, that would be deconstructive and could cause more damage than help."
Burt nodded again.
"If he agrees, the hospital can set up some appointments for him."
Burt nodded once more. He was beginning to feel a little dumb, but what else was he supposed to do?
"The problem lies in the fact that at the moment, Blaine is too traumatised to give the whereabouts of his father or exactly say what the man's done." Summers picked up their previous conversation.
Burt covered his face with his hands, groaning in frustration, "He just keeps apologising and… crying." He said despairingly.
Summers nodded understandingly, "He's going to be like this for a while. He just need to be around patient people who will let him know that he's loved and that it's okay to do certain things… to be who he is. And gradually… hopefully, he'll begin to let people in."
Burt sighed sadly.
"It's a long process." She continued solemnly, twisting her pen between her fingers, noticing his despair. "He may well have to overcome a lot of self-doubt and repressed memories in order to get to a place where he's comfortable enough to tell about his past."
Burt paused, "I want him to come home with me and Kurt." Summers looked as if she wanted to argue, so he continued pressingly. "We love him and we care about him… we searched for him for years and I'll be damned if he ends up back with his father, or if he ends up in some social care system that doesn't give a rats ass about him."
Summers smiled grimly, "It's unorthodox to say the least, and we'd have to do certain checks… there'd be visits from social services… I think Doctor Carlton's on the verge of calling them anyway… there'd probably be talks of fostering."
"But?" Burt wheedled, a small smile lighting his features as he realised that this woman really did seem to be on their side.
Summers sighed before her smile stretched candidly, "But I think right now Blaine just needs a loving environment it would be more beneficial to house him with you – people he trusts, rather than complete strangers."
"The kid pretty much lived with us for five years." Burt justified, recalling the number of times Blaine slept over at the Hummel household, and the long hours he would spend playing with Kurt in the back garden.
Summers nodded, before frowning thoughtfully, "This elder brother of his? Do you know where he is? Is there any way the hospital could contact him?"
Burt snorted angrily, remembering the illusive, self-centred Cooper Anderson, who had been in his very late teens when he saw him last. "No idea where he is. He ditched the family years ago. I don't think Blaine knows where he is either."
Summers nodded and noted this down on the clipboard. She paused. "Blaine's in a pretty poor physical condition. This is more Doctor Carlton's field than mine but since he's pretty malnourished, he may need someone from the hospital – a health expert to either check on him or for Blaine to come into the hospital at intervals."
Burt suddenly realised that they already had someone from the hospital living with them (that is, if Blaine was allowed to com home with them). He only hoped Carole wouldn't mind too much. She had already put up with enough from the Hummel family over the past few days as it was. "My fiancé is a nurse here." He supplied hopefully.
Summers' smile brightened, "That would be ideal." She admitted, closing her clipboard before standing and turning to face him fully. He did the same. "I'll have a talk with Doctor Carlton and he can perhaps meet with the hospital's social worker and we'll work something out." She reached out a hand to shake his and he repeated the action. "I'll see what I can do." She told him quietly.
"Thank you." Burt replied gratefully. He just had a feeling that if they could take Blaine home and give him a relatively stable home life, then maybe he would begin to be okay.
She flashed him one last comforting smile, patting his arm gently, before walking back down the corridor. It was only when she turned the corner that Burt broke down, collapsing back into his seat, hiding his face in his hands. There was a horrible tightness in his chest and his heart almost physically ached now. He released a long, frustrated groan and then rubbed furiously at more tears that had found themselves a place on his cheeks, readjusting his slipping baseball cap in the process. All the tears that had been cried between he, Kurt and Blaine today ought to be enough to fill a damn river, he considered bitterly. Once he had somewhat calmed down, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled a very familiar number.
"Burt?" Carole's soothing voice became audible.
Upon hearing her voice, But thought he might break down again so he did not reply.
The wonderful woman on the other end of the line seemed to understand him instantly, "Do you need me, Burt?" she asked simply.
"Yes, please." He answered croakily, realising he now had to go back into that room and be strong for those kids.
"I'm on my way."
I hope people liked that. Next up, the story moves on - Blaine goes home with the Hummels, Kurt tries to explain his absence at school to his friends and we get to see Finn's reaction to everything. If there's anything you want to see in the story either soon or later please let me know. Thanks xx Please review :)