"So – about the worst thing I could ask right now is how you're feeling," Mary observed, her tone mild and disarming. "But if I can do anything to make you feel even a little better, Kurt – that's my job. That's what I'm here for. So – what I'd like you to tell me right now is – what I can do for you. What you need from me, right now. Can you do that?"
Kurt stared down at the thin, coarse blanket that covered his legs, the fingers of one hand working nervously against the fabric, his other hand still clenched painfully tight in the much softer flannel of his father's shirt. Burt's arm around him, the warm, soft pressure of his body beside Kurt on the bed, made him feel a little safer, a little more secure – but his body was still in agony, his mind still tormented by vivid images that were barely old enough to be memories – and in spite of her kindness, he didn't know how to answer her question, what Mary or anyone else could do to help him at this point.
"I just want to go h-home," he blurted out at last – but his voice broke on the last word, and suddenly he was crying again, overwhelmed by the horrifying reality of how drastically his entire world had changed in the past few hours.
Home is where it happened – where he was, and where he – where he did…
"Shhh, baby… you're safe now, son… it's all right…"
His father's voice was low and gruff and so, so familiar and comforting, and Kurt buried his face against his shirt again, his shoulders shaking with fresh sobs. No one said anything for a couple of minutes, and Kurt struggled to pull himself together, painfully aware that he was not the only one who'd suffered a traumatic ordeal this night, and that he was only making this so much harder on his father by falling apart like a child every other minute or so. His breath caught in his throat as he struggled to return it to a normal pace, letting it out in a shuddering sob.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry, I – I'm n-not trying to…"
"It's all right," Mary assured him, her voice reflecting surprise at his apology – and somehow, that surprise was more reassuring than sympathy would have been. "Honey, you have nothing to be sorry for. It's my job to be here and take care of you, and to be honest, I'd be more worried if you weren't a little bit of a mess right now, you know?"
Kurt nodded, biting his lower lip. "O-okay…"
"Now… I know you want to get home, sweetie, and I'm gonna do everything I can to make sure that happens as soon as possible," Mary continued gently. "But I'm going to need you to help me with that, all right?"
Kurt nodded again, reluctantly turning his head to face her again, though he couldn't quite bring himself to meet her eyes just yet.
"Now, I know you've already been through a lot tonight, and you probably just want to be left alone, but – you know I can't really do that, right?" Her tone was sympathetic, apologetic, but her words made Kurt's heart clench, and his stomach lurched with fear.
"I d-don't want anybody else to touch me," he whispered, hating himself for the weak, tremulous sound of his own voice. "Please… please don't touch me…"
"Well, ultimately, that's up to you, sweetheart," Mary assured him, and just those words alone were a tremendous comfort. "It's your decision – and I'm not going to do anything to you unless you say it's okay." She was quiet for a moment before continuing, her words cautious and measured, "But… it's also part of my job to make sure that you understand the risks of either decision. All right?"
Kurt nodded, accepting her words – because as long as she was still talking, at least she wasn't touching him, wasn't putting her hands where his hands had been, looking at the torn wreckage of his body that he had left behind.
"You could go home right now, and your dad could try his best to take care of your injuries on his own there, but – and this is assuming you don't need stitches, which we honestly don't know for sure yet – that would involve cleaning the injured area, applying medications, dressings… and I don't think that you really want him trying to do all that, do you?"
Kurt felt his face flush with shame at the very idea of his father looking at him there, touching him, awkwardly trying to apply medications and bandages and all the while trying not to think about what had caused those injuries – the agonizing creation of them that he'd witnessed.
God… he's never going to forget… I'm never going to forget…
"And then," Mary continued softly, "there's the fact that a home environment is never as sterile as the environment we can create here. Your dad seems like a wonderful person, and I know he'd do his best to take care of you – but the fact is he's not a professional, and one little mistake – one time that he forgets to sterilize anything could end up with you back here, not just for tonight but for a couple of weeks, with a very unpleasant infection."
Kurt swallowed hard, a knot beginning to form in his stomach as he considered the implications of her words.
"This is an awful thing to have to ask you, Kurt," Mary went on, her voice low and gentle, "but did the man who did this wear a condom?"
Kurt's heart lurched, and he flinched against his father's chest, shaking his head. "I-I don't know," he whispered. "I don't – don't think so… I'm not sure…"
"No." Burt's voice was hoarse and painfully broken above his head, and Kurt felt fresh tears rising in his eyes at the sound of it. "He didn't."
"Okay." Mary's voice was level and measured. "Then we need to check whatever – evidence was left behind in the attack to make sure that he doesn't have any STIs that he might have passed on to you. We're going to give you some retrovirals while you're here, and some to take home, to make sure that any chance of HIV infection is eliminated or at least reduced… but we need the sample to make sure you're not going to get sick…" She paused, and when she went on there was a sharp, subtly angry note to her voice. "… not to mention submitting it to the police to see if they can match it, and try to put the bastard away for this."
STIs? HIV? What did he do to me?
God… no wonder I feel so disgusting and dirty…"Or you know… you could choose to stay for just a little while longer. Let me perform the exam. I can't promise you that it won't hurt a little, and I can't promise you that it'll be easy – but I can promise you that I'll make it go as quickly as possible, and I'll do my best not to cause you any more pain than you're already in. And if you don't want me to do it, then I can always get you someone else. However you're most comfortable."
Kurt was quiet, just struggling to take it all in. It was overwhelming, too much information, and far too personal a discussion to be having with a total stranger – and yet he knew that she was right. The risks of simply going home and trying to forget this had ever happened were just too great.
He shook his head, swallowing hard to dampen his dry, aching throat. "I w-want – I want you to do it," he whispered, hiding his face again.
"Yeah." Burt's voice was heavy with relief, and Kurt felt a fresh wave of guilt as he realized how much he'd been worrying his father with his stubborn refusal of the exam thus far. "Yeah, you're – you're the only person in this damn hospital so far who's treated him like a person."
Mary reached out carefully across the mattress, bringing her hand to within his line of vision, then waiting. Kurt looked up at last to meet her eyes and saw the cautious question there. He nodded slowly, and Mary completed the motion, reaching out to rest her hand over his. It was warm and soft and motherly, and made Kurt's heart ache with a completely different sense of loss.
"I'm so sorry about that," she replied, with unmistakable sincerity in her voice. "But if that's how you both feel, then I promise you – I'll be the one to do the exam. I'll talk you through it, make sure you know what's going on the whole time, and assuming that there's no surgery or stitches necessary – no one else will touch you tonight. All right? Would that make you feel a little bit safer?"
Kurt nodded, feeling a strange mixture of fear and relief – because he knew that with that simple gesture, he was agreeing to allow this further invasion, this gentle, necessary violation. Mary was kind and gentle, and far more reassuring than anyone else he'd encountered in this hospital thus far – but he still didn't want to be touched, not by anyone. At the moment, he couldn't stand the thought of any hands on him that were not his father's.
And it doesn't matter how nice she tries to be… Kurt realized, his heart sinking with despair. Here, at home, anywhere – I'm never going to feel safe again…
Kurt was strangely quiet throughout the examination. He didn't cry, and he barely made a sound, even when Burt knew that, despite Mary's best efforts, she was hurting him – but his entire body was rigid the entire time, his face never lifting from its hiding place against Burt's chest. His hands were trembling, white-knuckled, tangled in the soft fabric, and Burt could feel the flushed heat of his face even through his shirt.
Mary warned him before she touched him, every single time, telling him in detail exactly what she was doing and why; and it did seem to help a little. Kurt would nod or whisper a timid, "okay", but he didn't cry out, and every flinch, every shuddered, sharp intake of breath, was only a fresh reminder of the torment that Kurt had gone through, and the fact that it was far from over.
He knew that for his son, this was just another piece of a horrific night filled with humiliation – and that knowledge broke his heart.
Kurt's eyes might have been dry throughout the entire exam, but Burt could not claim the same strength. Every time he felt Kurt's slender frame jerk against him, every time he heard a barely audible, muffled whimper against his chest, Burt felt as if he was being stabbed through the heart. He just held his boy in his arms helplessly, wishing there was something he could offer besides meaningless, soothing words and the reassurance of his embrace, to ease Kurt's pain and undo the damage that had been done.
But there was nothing he could do. He was helpless in the face of this – and it was more than he could stand.
When Mary was finished with the examination – to Burt's relief, a mere thirty minutes later – she administered a strong dose of painkillers to ease Kurt's suffering and help him sleep. Mercifully, the drugs knocked him out within minutes – and Burt was left alone with the heavy silence, too empty and open to the dark onslaught of his thoughts.
He took up the paperwork from the folder he'd been given at the front desk and dutifully filled it out, then stepped out into the hall and handed it off to an orderly on her way back to the lobby.
A few minutes later, the police showed up. Apparently, they'd been in the lobby since a few minutes after Burt and Kurt had arrived, but had been told that Kurt was being examined and they would have to wait until the examination was over. They seemed disappointed to find their key witness unconscious, but Burt quickly filled them in on the events of the night – using as little detail as possible for the worst parts of it, though every fractional perception of every moment was seared vividly into his mind.
The police were particularly interested in the body that Burt told them they would find on the floor of his living room. One of the officers kept talking to Burt, asking him questions about the robbery and how the murder had happened, while the other immediately stepped out of the room, talking into his handheld radio.
Great… we're gonna come home to a house that's nothing more than a taped off crime scene…"If there's someplace else you can stay tonight – maybe a hotel," one of the officers suggested apologetically, "If money's an issue, the department can put you up for the night…"
"I – I don't plan to go anywhere," Burt assured them, turning his gaze toward his, at last, peacefully sleeping son. "I'll be here as long as he is."
"Good." The officer nodded. "It'll take the crime scene crew until tomorrow to go through the place and collect evidence, but you should be okay to stay at home again by tomorrow night."
"Thank you." Burt's reply was automatic, emotionless.
"We're obviously going to need to speak with your son as well," the officer added hesitantly, his tone regretful and sympathetic. "That can wait until he's feeling a little better – but I'm afraid we can't wait long, Mr. Hummel. If he's released from the hospital tomorrow, we'd really appreciate your bringing him by on the way home, before you settle in…"
A shudder of apprehension went through Burt, as he suddenly wondered whether or not it would be possible to "settle in" at all, to the house where Kurt had been brutally raped and violated.
Burt told the officers where to find Kurt's clothes inside, and they finally left a little past midnight. Burt settled down on the sofa on the other side of the room, resigned to the fact that he would be spending at least one night there, and possibly more.
It was nearly three in the morning before he finally dozed off to a fitful, restless sleep.
"Burt? Burt, honey, wake up!"
The warm, familiar voice drew Burt out of his blessedly dreamless sleep, and he sat up on the sofa, blinking around for a moment, disoriented. At last his vision came into focus on Carole's worried face inches from his own.
"Burt?" she repeated, her eyes wide and fearful as a gentle hand rose to cup his cheek. "Why is Kurt here, honey? What happened to you two?"
As awareness slowly drifted back to Burt's mind, it hit him with the force of a freight train that in all the chaos, in all the panicked urgency to get his son to help as quickly as possible, and then to make sure that he was all right – Burt had completely, entirely forgotten Carole.
The woman he'd married, her son that was becoming like his own, had completely slipped his mind, and he'd gone back to the way he'd been so used to seeing the world before he'd met Carole – him and Kurt, the center of each other's universe – the only thing that mattered in the world.
"Neither of you were answering your phones," Carole explained, sinking down on the couch beside him and reaching out to clasp his hand. "So Finn and I – we were… worried."
Burt's guilt intensified with the certain knowledge of what she didn't have to say – that the reason they'd been worried was his heart.
She spent that four-hour drive scared to death that I was dead or dying – and I didn't so much as remember she existed…
"So we decided to come on home, and – and when we got to the house, the police were there." The fear of that moment was still lingering in Carole's eyes, and Burt instinctively, reassuringly squeezed her hand. "They told us that Kurt had been admitted to the hospital, but – but they wouldn't tell us anything else."
"I'm sorry, I just – it all happened so fast, and… and I didn't… didn't think…"
Carole's gaze drifted toward the bed, and Burt's followed hers, surprised – though he supposed in the back of his mind that he shouldn't have been – to see Finn sitting in the chair he'd vacated beside Kurt's bed. He was staring down at the smaller boy – his little brother – with wide eyes and a worried, fearful frown. As Burt watched, Finn reached out toward Kurt's still, pale arm – and before he knew it, without any conscious thought or intent, Burt was up and across the room, catching Finn's hand and pulling it away before he could make contact.
"Don't touch him!" he barked.
Finn flinched, pulling his hand away and staring at Burt through wide eyes – and Burt flinched too when he felt Carole's hand on his arm.
"I – I wasn't going to – to hurt him or anything…" Finn insisted, his expression defensive and bewildered, and a little wounded.
"Burt? Honey, what – what is it?"
"He just – I'm sorry, he just…" Burt felt the pressure of the entire night building up inside him, and suddenly he was in tears, and not the silent ones he'd shed during Kurt's exam – the kind that shook his body with sobs and made him feel as if he was shattering apart inside. "He doesn't want… doesn't want anyone to touch him…"
He sank down into the chair from which Finn had just risen, covering his face with his hands – and Carole moved Finn away, crouching down in front of him and taking one of his hands in both of hers. Her voice was hushed with a quiet sense of rising horrified realization as she spoke to him with gentle caution, as if afraid to spook him.
"Burt – Burt, honey," she whispered, searching his face with wide, worried eyes, touched with the beginnings of unwelcome understanding. "Tell me what happened to Kurt."