As it turned out, police reports were a matter of public record – something easily obtained by a trip to the Lima police station, as long as one had $10 in hand. Finn just smiled innocently in response to the curious look the woman behind the counter gave him, and waited for her to print off the information that he needed. There was no law stating he had to be an adult to obtain a police report, even if it was a little bit unusual.
Once the report was in his hand and he was safely in his car, Finn sent off a quick text to Karofsky.
They met at the public library in a quiet corner, away from the small, private study rooms where Lima's high school crowd liked to congregate – not that those McKinley students who were frequenters of the library were really in either Finn's or Karofsky's social circles. Finn just didn't want to take any chances, to end up having to deal with questions from his friends – or God forbid, his brother – about why he was suddenly spending time with David Karofsky.
And, not that he cared that much, but he was pretty sure Karofsky didn't want to be seen with him, either.
Finn made a copy of the police report he'd purchased at the library's copy machine, and handed it over to Karofsky. Finn sat in silence for a long time, poring over the report and trying to find anything that he didn't already know, but most of it was stuff he'd already heard. It was quite a bit more – detailed, however. Descriptions of Kurt's injuries, what little Burt and Kurt had had to say to the police in the days immediately following the attack – Finn wasn't really sure he wanted to know this much.
And as he glanced across the table at Karofsky, who was frowning thoughtfully down at his own copy, Finn was suddenly, overwhelmingly sure that he didn't want Karofsky to know it. The thought of Kurt walking in and seeing what they were doing made Finn abruptly, horribly sick.
"Damn it," Finn muttered, dropping the papers onto the table and running a hand through his hair before dropping his head back and closing his eyes in frustration.
"What?"
When Finn looked up, Karofsky was frowning at him. Finn gestured vaguely at the papers on the desk, struggling to find the words, before finally just blurting out, "I'm… pissed off, that's what!"
Karofsky looked down at his own copy of the report again. "Well, yeah." He let out a heavy, shaky sigh. "This shit is fucked up…"
"No," Finn clarified, raising his head and glaring across the table. "I'm pissed off at you."
Karofsky looked up at him again sharply. "Excuse me?"
"It just – it feels wrong, you – sitting here and looking at all of this stuff, reading about what happened to Kurt, when you – after everything you did to him…"
"Yeah, well, I wouldn't be reading it if you hadn't asked me to help you with this, Hudson," Karofsky pointed out, looking away. There was resentment in his voice, but he suddenly couldn't seem to meet Finn's eyes, so Finn knew that there was at least some validity to how he felt about this – whether it made sense or not. "I'm not doing this to – to invade Kurt's privacy. I'm doing this because… because I want to help."
"Yeah, but it is invading his privacy," Finn sighed, leaning forward and resting his head in his hands for a moment. "And… it's my fault, not yours. I should never have asked you to do this with me."
"I'm… I'm skipping the… the personal stuff." Karofsky's voice was quiet and subdued. "I don't see how that'll help us find this guy, so… I'm just sort of skimming over it and looking for stuff that might help." Both boys were silent for a long moment, lost in their separate, troubled thoughts. Finally, Karofsky broke the silence, his words quiet and almost pleading. "I wouldn't be doing any of this if I wasn't sorry."
Finn wrestled with the anger he still felt every time Karofsky uttered those words, the resentment and mistrust that warred against a certain sympathy – because there'd been a time when he'd been a bully, too, though he'd never threatened to kill anyone, and he'd never made someone as scared as Kurt had been of Karofsky…
Had he?
All at once Finn's stomach hurt, and he let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. "I know," he relented. "I know. It's just… you had him so scared. And… you thought it was fun. To scare someone to death that can't even fight back…"
"First of all," Karofsky held up a hand to halt Finn's words, a terse edge to his voice as he sat up a little in his chair, "you don't know what I thought about it. You weren't in my head and you don't have the first clue why I did it. And secondly…" He relaxed a little, a faint, sad smile crossing his lips as he sat back again, a far off look in his eyes, "I think you're underestimating Hummel." Karofsky let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "He's a fighter, all right." His smile faded into something troubled and solemn as he met Finn's confused, questioning look. "It's not that he can't fight that makes him a target, Hudson. You don't get it. It's… it's that he fights so hard. He's… little, and… and weird, and… totally vulnerable, and yet… he still walks around McKinley like he can take the biggest guy in any room, or… maybe just like he doesn't care what they do to him? And… it's… confusing. And… maybe scary. You know, for some people."
Finn studied Karofsky closely, considering his words, and wondering at what sort of secret motivations Karofsky might have been talking about that would have pushed him to torment Kurt the way he had the previous year. It had never crossed his mind that anything about Kurt could actually scare Karofsky – or anyone else for that matter.
Okay, yeah, when you messed with his hair products or his clothes or tried to sneak junk food into the house, he could be… actually pretty terrifying, like some small, fast, screeching thing flying at your face in the dark might be terrifying. But just… walking down the halls of McKinley? Just being who he was? How could anyone find that scary? How could just that alone freak someone out so bad that they'd want to hurt him so much?
Finn couldn't make sense of it, and he was still trying to when the whole situation went to hell.
"What the fuck?"
Finn first registered Puck's voice, and second registered the fact that it was far too loud for the library. He stood up, feeling guilty and caught, even though he wasn't doing anything wrong, even though if there was one person in the world who'd understand what he was planning, it should be Puck. He swallowed hard, remembering their conversation a few nights earlier, and how spectacularly not supportive Puck had been of his idea.
Puck picked up the file Finn had been reading from the table, jerking it away when Finn tried to take it from his hand. After a moment, Puck's eyes widened with horror, and he dropped the papers back onto the table, staring at Finn, aghast.
"Dude," he demanded, "What is this? What are you doing?" He cast a disgusted look in Karofsky's direction, adding contemptuously, "And… with him?"
"I already told you, Puck." Finn tried to keep his tone calm, glancing uneasily around to see that several library patrons had turned to look at the scene that Puck was starting. "I'm going to find the guy who hurt my brother. You said you didn't want to help, so I… I had to…"
"Had to what? Pick the one person in the entire world that Kurt would last want to know about any of this?"
"Everybody already knows!" Finn snapped, his defensive feelings getting the better of him. "It's not like it's a secret. He can't sleep. He can't be at school without freaking out. He's scared all the time and can barely even function, and… and if the cops won't do anything, then I'm going to do whatever I have to do to make sure my little brother is safe!"
"This won't make him safe!" Puck yelled back. "Do you have any idea what kind of a fucking psycho you're dealing with here? Not the kind you can handle, that's for damn sure!"
"I think I've got a pretty good idea," Finn retorted, his voice lowered, but trembling with anger. "I'm the one who's… who's watching, every day, what Kurt's going through because of what he did, so I'm pretty sure I get it…"
"No, you really don't," Puck cut him off sharply, turning on his heel and storming out, just as a frowning library employee started toward their table.
"I'm sorry," Finn told her with what he hoped was a disarming, apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry. He's leaving, I promise." He glanced uneasily between the table and Puck's swiftly retreating form for a moment before quietly addressing Karofsky. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."
He hurried to catch up with Puck, then held back a little, letting him get outside the main entrance before he reached out to catch his arm and stop him. Puck jerked away from him, glaring furiously, and Finn froze, troubled by the suspicious gleam in his eyes, almost as if he was close to tears – but Puck never cried, never allowed anyone to see behind his badass exterior, and… and it wasn't even as if he and Kurt were that close, so… what…?
"Dude, what is your deal?" Finn sighed. "I don't get you at all lately. I mean, so you think it's stupid and you don't wanna help. Why are you so furious at me for doing this?"
"But you're letting Karofsky help you, after everything he did to Kurt! Does Kurt even know what you're doing, Finn? Does he know that you're showing the police reports of what that bastard did to him to David Karofsky?" Puck exploded, gesturing wildly, turning away for a moment before turning back, waiting for Finn's explanation.
Finn's mouth felt dry, his face flushed with a sudden rush of guilty uncertainty. "No. I – I don't want to scare him any more than he already is…"
"And why would it scare him, exactly?" Puck demanded, a smile of mirthless triumph on his lips. "Maybe because he'd know that if you manage to track this guy down, all you're gonna accomplish is to get yourself killed?"
"It's not like I'm going to take him on myself," Finn pointed out. "I'm just hoping I can find him, if he's still around. Then I'll… I'll call the cops so they can take him in. I'm not an idiot, Puck."
"It's not like it'd do any good, anyway," Puck sighed, sinking down onto the wooden bench on the sidewalk outside the library. "The damage is done, right? Can't be undone, whether you find the guy or not, so… so why not just leave it alone?"
Finn stared at him, indignant and aghast. "How can you say that? The guy that did this to Kurt – the guy that's basically ruined his life – needs to pay. I don't care if it fixes things or not. He deserves to spend the rest of his life in prison for what he did. And Kurt deserves to feel safe again – to know that the person responsible for what happened to him can't ever hurt him again."
Puck didn't respond, just looked away, staring into space for a long moment, before abruptly rising to his feet and walking away.
"Puck, wait…"
"Just leave it, Hudson," Puck snapped, throwing his hands up in frustration as he stalked away.
Finn just watched him go in helpless confusion for a few moments, before doing his best to put it out of his mind and turning to go back into the library. He didn't have time to think about Puck and his weird issues right now.
He had a job to do.
On the way home, Puck kicked a couple of trash cans, a mailbox, and in a very ill-advised and painful move, a curb. He swore under his breath, hurrying his pace in an attempt to walk out the pain – but there were far worse troubles on his mind than his throbbing foot. He stormed into his house, slamming the door and ignoring his mother's concerned calling as he disappeared up the stairs into the sanctuary of his room – which he promptly proceeded to thoroughly trash, tossing books and papers and clothes off his bed and onto the floor, clearing his desk in a single sweep of his arm before sitting down on the floor beside his bed, leaning his back against it and closing his eyes. He was suddenly out of breath, overwhelmed, closer to tears than he'd been in longer than he could remember.
Finn was right, in a way, he knew – not about tracking down Kurt's attacker, because Puck knew all too well how dangerous a move that might be.
But… about the guy needing to pay.
Whether or not it did Kurt any good mentally or emotionally to have the guy behind bars, it was what needed to happen. It was what deserved to happen to anyone who could inflict such brutality on someone as sweet, as innocent and idealistic and bright and unshakably, sometimes scarily strong as Kurt Hummel.
And what about the guy who made it possible?
Puck pressed his palms against his eyes, a whispered litany of curses escaping his lips as he struggled in vain to keep back the tears.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck…"
What would they do… what would they think… if they knew that you're the one to blame? What would they do if they knew that you're the reason it happened… the reason Kurt was raped and violated and broken…
It's all your fault… and there's nothing you can ever do to make it right.
