"Guilty on 13 counts of child abuse!"
"Oh my goodness! Blaine!"
George nearly jumped up from his seat, but Blaine's torso kept him from doing so. Judge O'Conner stood up from her seat. One of the jurors jumped over to the group, and it was at that point when the Warblers stood up as well, trying to see what the fuss was all about with their leader.
"Someone get him some water!" Kurt cried as he pushed his way out of the row and over to George and Blaine. George was fanning Blaine with a stack of papers as the juror, an EMT, took his pulse by his wrist.
"Lay him down on the ground," the man said calmly. The three of them moved the table and set Blaine down gently. "When was the last time he ate?" George and Kurt looked at each other.
"I gave him some breakfast, but he didn't eat much of it because of his nerves."
"I haven't seen him eat anything today," Kurt said with wide eyes, brimming with clear tears.
"Then it's probably just a huge drop in his blood sugar. He doesn't need water, he needs juice."
"I'll go get a Gatorade from the vending machine," someone called.
"Blaine…oh gosh, Blaine." Kurt looked up at George, who looked more distressed than he had anytime during the trial. He held Blaine's head on his lap and seemed to be biting his lip to keep from tearing up too much. He cared for Blaine more than any other father Kurt had seen. He could even compete against Burt. If Kurt hadn't realized their connection in the hallway, he would have at that moment. The relationship was so beautiful, so picturesque, but no one wanted the shot. The love was overshadowed by a photo of Ohio's senator being taken away in handcuffs.
Mrs. Pamela, though, was a different story. She had more of a deer in headlights look plastered to her face. She could only stare at her son, but she couldn't do anything about it. Kurt immediately realized that it wasn't that she couldn't do anything, but had no idea what to do. She hadn't raised her son. Kurt imagined Blaine as a young boy, running to her with a scraped knee, only to have her redirect him to George. It wasn't entirely her fault, because she was probably raised that way as well, but Kurt still couldn't help but feel anger toward her. Help your lover! You won, Mrs. Buchanan! Show some sympathy to the men that helped you do so!
Kurt didn't even look up when the door closed behind a bound Senator Buchanan.
"Is he going to need to be taken to the hospital?" George desperately asked the juror.
"It wouldn't be the worst idea in the world. I mean, I'm sure he'll be fine, but just as a precaution." George nodded, and the man sent a message to the station to send an ambulance. Kurt couldn't hear the words that anyone spoke. It was just him and Blaine. He looked as peaceful as ever, yet that fact did nothing but frighten Kurt. The whole day, Blaine's face had been full of fear, weakness and tension, and Kurt had only thought that he had every reason to feel that way. Now that Blaine's countenance was angelic and serene, he was terrified. It was beautiful, but the way his eyes relaxed, and the way his lips parted just slightly sent Kurt back a decade. He recalled looking into his mother's coffin, her hair done neatly, clothed in her favorite powder blue dress from Macy's. He wouldn't, couldn't live through another moment like that. He just watched Pavoratti die singing in his bedroom. He couldn't bear to see anyone else come close to anything like that.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
He was singing the words before he could even think about the song. It came like a reflex to a somber situation. Blackbird was one of his mother's favorite songs, and he'd just sung it for the Warblers in remembrance of Pavoratti. He never thought that he would sing it about Blaine, or how well it would fit the boy's life. As he started the second verse, he heard George join in with him, in the background, the exact part that Blaine had sung for a while during the Warbler meeting.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free
Blackbird, fly
Blackbird, fly
Into the light of the dark, black night
The Warblers joined in once they heard him singing just as they had before. They had all congregated toward the front to see Blaine. Kurt felt his eyes fill with tears, but he hid them away from as many people as he could and kept singing. The courtroom fell silent, apart from the singing.
Blackbird, fly
Blackbird, fly
Into the light of the dark, black night.
Everyone was quiet. There was no singing. Kurt sniffled, and his emotion state was betrayed to the entire room. He wiped away the moisture with his hand, and looked down at Blaine once more. He leaned down and kissed him tenderly, the only thing he felt was fitting. He wished that Blaine was like Sleeping Beauty, and that he would wake up with the touch of their lips, but he didn't. No matter how sweet he claimed Kurt was, his lips weren't sugar, and they wouldn't cause him to open his eyes. "This is too much…" Kurt muttered to himself. The man that ran out to get the juice came back into the court room.
"Blaine…Blaine you need to wake up so you can drink." George propped Blaine up against his own torso, and the boy's eyes flickered before he opened them just slightly, as if he just woke up from a long nap. He looked a bit bewildered, having everyone kneeling around him.
"What happened?" he asked groggily. Kurt almost chuckled, because it was the same tone he used when he woke up after Rachel's party in his bed, but then he remembered how upset he was with him for neglecting his own health.
"You passed out because you haven't eaten anything all day," Kurt scolded. Blaine looked down at the ground, and the bottle of apple juice was passed into the crowd. He took it with a trembling hand and raised it to his lips.
"You haven't been eating nearly as much as usual," George added. Blaine didn't look up from the floor, and when he had to tip his head back to drink, he closed his eyes to avoid eye contact.
"Not in front of all these people…" he mumbled into the bottle. He kept drinking without looking at anyone.
"An ambulance is coming for you soon, Blaine," Kurt said as he took the boy's free hand. Blaine's eyes lifted, and the look he gave Kurt almost made him cry. He looked so frightened, his eyes round like a kitten's, and his expressive eyebrows sloping wearily upward. "They don't want this to happen to you again. We don't want this happening to you again." Blaine screwed the cap lazily on as he nodded in understanding. He set the drink aside, and lay down in Kurt's lap. George got up, and started to shoo everyone else away to give him some breathing space.
"I'm sorry, Kurt…" he said, closing his eyes once more as he adjusted himself to a comfortable position.
"Shh….you're okay." Kurt whispered as he ran his fingers through Blaine's hair, freeing the curls from their gel prison.
"I don't want to leave you."
"Don't worry about that now." They sat in silence, until George and Judge O'Conner shooed everyone out of the court room, except for the EMT. The only sounds left in the courtroom where the clicking of shoes, and the calming sound of air rushing in and out of lungs, like a tide onto a beach.
"That was a wonderful trial, Mr. Anderson," Judge O'Conner said as she headed toward the door. "For someone who hasn't been in the courtroom in two decades, you made your case very well."
"It was emotionally driven, and I know the books say to avoid that in trials, but that was the only way that we could survive. I'm glad justice was served today, your Honor. It's been a pleasure." George bowed his head to the woman and she smiled.
"A true gentleman. Well, I'll leave you all alone. I certainly trust that you won't cause too much trouble. Good luck, Mr. Buchanan, Mrs. Buchanan, Mr. Hummel." She smiled at all of them, though Kurt didn't look up.
"Thank you, your Honor," the boy said flatly, before she left the room. The sound of the door closing resonated throughout the nearly empty room. The EMT stood up.
"I'm going to find the rest of the team. Just stay where you are, keep on drinking." He stood up, and left the room as well, leaving no one but the prosecution and Kurt. Pamela got up from her seat, ran over to George and wrapped her arms around him.
"Thank you, oh thank you!" She cried with a smile on her face. George embraced her with just as much gusto. "I knew you would put him in his place!"
"We've been waiting for this day since the day we met," George said as they loosened their embrace. Kurt looked up at them at that moment. He saw George smiling down at the smaller woman, but Pamela's smile seemed to falter. "You were never meant to be married to him."
"But us?"
"Us." Pamela's smile completely disappeared, and while she remained in George's tender embrace, she looked anywhere but his face. "What's the matter? We've wanted to be married…" the butler mentioned in a much lower tone.
"You've wanted to be married." She turned her face away from all of them. "Don't you know how it works? Rich girls don't marry poor boys, George Anderson." She sniffled, and Kurt could tell that she began to cry. "Rich girls don't marry poor boys!" She pushed herself out of George's arms, though his shock had practically opened them anyway, and she ran out of the courtroom, and down the hall. Kurt and Blaine turned their attention toward George, who had a look of pure bewilderment on his face. He didn't even go after her, but he stood there, staring away from both of them, toward the door.
"George…" Blaine breathed. The man didn't stop staring until Blaine called to him again, but this time, he called him by a different name.
"Dad…"
George turned immediately, and he took a deep breath in to keep from tearing up. He lost his composure faster than Kurt had ever seen before. He nearly fell over himself rushing over to his son. He embraced Blaine with his whole heart. Kurt pushed himself out of the way to let them have their moment. George immediately started crying on his son's shoulder.George was clinging to Blaine, as if he'd found a vital piece of himself that he couldn't afford to let go of. He's been waiting to hear that name for so long, Kurt though. It was the most beautiful realization he'd ever seen, something straight out of a movie.
Right up until something ruined it all.
"Over here!" The juror said as he brought the team in on a stretcher. George reluctantly let go of his son, and Kurt saw his face, both of their faces stained with tears. Blaine was swarmed with EMTs, but George intervened. "Please…give him some air please," he pleaded. Some of the men backed off once they got Blaine on the stretcher. He looked so pale against the white sheet that covered the padding, but his face showed nothing but peace, like he could fall asleep on the thin mattress. He laid back, closed his eyes…
"Try to stay awake, for us, son," The juror said. Blaine half opened his eyes and sighed. The EMTs worked for a little while longer, before they simply took him out to the ambulance. Kurt didn't follow them, and neither did George. They were alone, silent, until George put his hand on Kurt's shoulder. The boy looked over toward the man. "I'll walk you out to your car…"
"Thank you, George." The two walked quietly through the hall. The EMTs had made quite a gap between them, so there echo consisted only of their shoes. "George?"
"Yes, Master Hummel?"
"Do you sing your feelings, like Blaine?" George chuckled and looked down at the watch he procured from his coat pocket.
"Well he had to learn it from somewhere, didn't he?"
"What would you sing right now?" George's smile immediately disappeared, and he focused his gaze beyond the end of the hallway. He and Kurt fell into step with each other, and it sounded as if only one person was walking.
"Well…there is one song that seems to fit. Oh what is the name of it? Some mainstream song. About…oh…standing in front of a train and catching a-"
"Grenade by Bruno Mars?"
"Yes, yes that one." Kurt turned toward George and his eyes filled with pity, yet the man just kept looking forward until they reached the atrium. "George."
"Yes?"
"I don't have to head home at this moment. I want to know that everyone is alright, including you. Quite a lot has happened today."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you should sing. I could help. It helped Blaine." George's expression blanked away, before he began to chuckle.
"Now now, let's not go so far. Unlike Blaine, I have a more difficult time singing at the drop of a hat, especially to songs I've only heard a handful of times." Kurt objected, but George retaliated. "Master Hummel, please." Kurt was surprised by the calm tone that George kept, though he knew that he shouldn't argue any longer. He was so unlike Mr. Buchanan, who would have called him a name and told him to shut his trap before he spread the gay like a virus. George simply put his hand on Kurt's shoulder once more and took him out of the building. The reporters were set up all around the building, reporting the verdict. George pulled Kurt behind one of the large pillars, as if they were all Nazis in a WW2 movie and they were Indiana Jones and whatever girl he was protecting at the time.
"What are we gonna do, Dr. Jones?" George scanned the area.
"What kind of adventure wouldn't have a few obstacles?"
"Couldn't we just walk? I mean, they can't interrupt their broadcasts."
"I'm sure we could, but there is no fun in that." Kurt chuckled and started to scan around. "We can escape behind the ambulance, where the most people are distracted. The ambulance will also provide adequate cover."
"Good job Not-So-Short-Round! Now keep low." George started to slink against the wall like James Bond, with Kurt following close behind. They could be seen on nearly every video camera, including the one that broadcasted to the Hummel household. Blaine gave them a curious look as they passed by him. Kurt blew him a quick kiss before he disappeared behind the vehicle. The two ran across the road, up a grassy hill (even if they could have taken the stairs) and ran commando-style to Kurt's car.
"Give me your keys," George stage whispered to Kurt about 100 feet from the vehicle. Kurt reached into his pocket, and tossed the keys to the butler. The older man pressed his back against the car, arms spread. They paused for a moment in silence, until Kurt heard the familiar click click of his Honda unlocking. George swiftly opened the door for Kurt. "Young master." Kurt smiled at the man, and slid into his vehicle. George underhandedly gave the keys back to him.
"Thank you George. You did a great job today. Tell me how things go, okay?"
"Certainly." They smiled at each other, and Kurt started the car. George began to walk back down the grassy hill. Kurt drove around, passed George just before he reached the courthouse, and saw Blaine still in the ambulance, surrounded my medical personnel. Then came the mob. Thomas Buchanan's walk of shame. The police tried to surround them to prevent pictures, but the photographers were just too persistent. Kurt stopped his car, afraid to drive into the vortex of flashes. In his review mirror, he caught a glimpse of Blaine. He was looking directly at the police car, fully awake. When he saw the man who made his life so difficult get pushed into the car, Kurt saw a smile appear on his face, and he knew that one of the EMTs hadn't told a joke.