Author's Note: I post this from a hotel in Buenos Aires, Argentina, en route to Mendoza, where I will be living and studying for the next 4 ½ months. For those of you who have been following me since the beginning or close to it: Yes, again. What can I say, I like the country and it has programs I like. My schedule is undetermined as of yet, but I shall continue to do my utmost to find the time to write.

-SQ

Disclaimer: I would not wish to be anyone personally or professionally involved with the show at this point in time, and my thoughts go out to all of those who are.

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Roller Coaster

Knock knock knock.

"Kurt? Kurt, I'm coming in."

"Shhhh." Kurt put his finger to his lips as his dad opened the door and came into the room; he nodded downwards. Blaine's curly head was pillowed on Kurt's lap, his thick lashes resting softly above his red-tinged cheeks.

Burt's eyebrows lifted. "I take it you two've made up, then?"

"We're getting there," said Kurt, moving a stray curl off of Blaine's forehead. "We both did some really stupid stuff, and we've both been through some real crap, him more than me, for all that I'm the one in the hospital right now. That's not just going to go away, but we'd rather deal with it together than break up, which is really the only other option, since we can't exactly go on being boyfriends who don't talk to each other."

"No," agreed Burt, "that doesn't sound very practical."

"I wish he'd told me sooner," said Kurt. "I still feel hurt that he lied to me, but I do understand why he did. Dad, did you really tell him that he doesn't have to go back home to his parents? That you were going to call CPS on them?"

"I did and I will," said Burt. "No one should treat their child the way that man who calls himself Blaine's father has treated him."

"Where will he go?" asked Kurt, looking down at his sleeping boyfriend.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," said Burt. "For the time being he's been staying with us."

"Will you adopt him?" asked Kurt.

"I think that might be a little awkward, don't you?" said Burt with a small smile. "No, he's still a minor, but he's old enough to be emancipated, and in less than a year he'll be eighteen and legally an adult."

Kurt nodded absently running his fingers through Blaine's messy curls. "I don't want him to get hurt anymore."

"I know, kiddo, neither do we. Wake him up now and we'll leave and let you get some rest, okay?"

"Okay," said Kurt. "Oh. I…" he swallowed hard. "I'm ready to talk to the police."

Burt's shoulders sagged in relief. "Thank you, kiddo, I'll let them know."

Kurt nodded and shook Blaine's shoulder gently. "Blaine. Blaine, wake up. Blaine. Blaine!"

"Wha—wha—huh?" Blaine sat up with a jolt, his heart hammering.

"Whoa, hey, easy," said Kurt, putting a calming hand on Blaine's back. "It's just me. You fell asleep. It's time to go."

"Oh," said Blaine somewhat sheepishly. "Sorry. I didn't get much sleep the last couple nights."

"It's okay," said Kurt. He kissed Blaine's cheek. "Go with my dad, I'll see you later."

Blaine nodded, unable to help grinning a bit, and a bit nervously, at his boyfriend. "Yeah, I'll see you later, Kurt."

*****BB*****

"He talked to you? He won't even see me." There was a note of resentment in the boy's voice.

"I think he will now, Finn," said Blaine to the taller boy, who was standing over him. "I can't tell you why he talked to me before anyone else, even though we were fighting. Maybe because I've been through some similar stuff. Maybe because we were fighting, so being able to talk to me again made things at least a little bit better. I don't know. But he's going to be okay now. He's agreed to talk to the police."

"And you?" asked Finn, taking a seat straddling the computer chair which groaned as he leaned forward. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," said Blaine. "Kurt may not be the only one who has to talk to the police."

"But we already told them everything we know," said Finn, confused.

"Not about that," said Blaine. He took a breath and leaned back against the pillows, the nsaid very fast, "I'm pressing charges against my dad and applying for emancipation. Burt's filing a report with CPS."

Finn looked at him blankly. "CPS?"

"Child Protective Services. A little birdy told him that I have some major daddy issues."

Finn bit his lip. "Sorry man, I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't let that stuff keep happening to you. It wasn't right. And I was scared. You're my friend. I don't want anything to happen to you; I'd feel awful."

"Thank you," said Blaine quietly. "It's a hard pill to swallow, speaking up about this, but if I don't, I'm going to end up losing my boyfriend, my friends, and maybe my life. I've come to realize that that scares me more than facing up to what's happening at home."

"I don't understand," said Finn. "How is stopping the abuse scarier that enduring it?"

"It's hard to explain," said Blaine. "Imagine being on a really bumpy roller coaster. One of those awful old wooden ones that throw you around like a grain sack. Way worse than the bumpiest roller coaster you've ever been on. It isn't fun and it isn't pleasant, and by now you're bruised all over, but you've been going around and around the same track for long enough that it isn't really scary anymore, just highly unpleasant and rather tedious, because you know when all of the bumps are. Occasionally you forget about one, and it takes you by surprise, but for the most part, you know what to expect, which is basically more tedium and pain.

"And then imagine that you pass by the station, and you want to get off the roller coaster, you do, but that involves figuring out how to undo the imposing-looking restraints with your bruised, numb fingers; and the roller coaster won't stop for you to get off, so you'll have to jump and pray that you don't miss the platform. And you don't know what else there is beyond the platform, you don't really know whether it's any better, or whether you'll just end up getting on a different, unknown roller coaster that might be even worse. And the unknown, that's what you're scared of now, because you already live in hell, and the devil you know beats the devil you don't.

"And you tell yourself, it isn't all bad. You know some of the other people on the ride. You even like some of them. And the people at the station smile at you as you go by; they don't realize how awful their roller coaster is from your position. So you think it might be better just to stay on this one that you're familiar with, because if something goes wrong when you try to get out, it's going to run you over, and anyway, surely the ride is going to end soon on its own. It can't possibly go on forever, right? And it doesn't really matter if you actually believe that or not, because as long as you pretend to believe it, you have a spark of hope, of safe hope, because you don't have to risk the jump off of the roller coaster.

"And if one day that hope slips, and you catch yourself in the lie, and you don't think you can take one more jolt, you start to think that the chance of making it onto the platform safely if you jump is so slim that maybe you ought to just jump off of the roller coaster right where it is and let it run you over."

Finn blinked at him. "Wow. I don't think I'll ever look at roller coasters the same again."

Blaine chuckled. "Trust me, there's not a real roller coaster in the world that can compare to this. It was just an analogy."

"Yeah, an unpleasant one."

"A walk in the amusement park compared to the real thing."

"I guess. I guess it's easier to get off the roller coaster when the attendants are there to undo the restraints."

Blaine smiled. "Yes, yes it is." He stretched his arms above his head.

"You really think he'll talk to me if I go back and try again tomorrow?"

"I can't guarantee anything," said Blaine. "But yeah, I think he will. He's doing really well physically. Those thugs didn't know a thing about fighting. They hit him in all the wrong places."

"I probably shouldn't be surprised that you know that."

"I'm on the boxing team at Dalton. Actually, I started it. Nothing quite like shredding your knuckles beating your opponent's padding to a pulp to release those pent up emotions." His mouth quirked in an ironic smile. "Besides, it confused the hell out of my dad. On the one hand, he hated me being that close to other sweaty, half-dressed boys, on the other hand, it was the 'manliest' thing I had expressed interest in in years. I neglected to mention to him the fact that I took it up to protect my gay self from homophobic bullies."

Finn rocked the chair forward and back, making it creak.

"You're going to break that," commented Blaine, eyeing him sleepily.

"Nah," said Finn. "I haven't yet." But he turned the chair around so he was sitting in it properly.

Blaine snorted and sat up. "If it breaks, I'll laugh."

"If it breaks, you're buying a new one, Finn," said Carole, coming into the room. "Because I'm not. Are you boys hungry?"

Blaine shrugged, but Finn nodded vigorously.

Carole smiled. "I don't wonder; it's nearly three. Come downstairs and get some lunch. I don't want the dishes to disappear into the black hole of your room, Finn."

"They don't—" Finn began.

Carole picked up a cup that was sitting on his desk. "Mmm hmm… Downstairs."

The two boys trudged downstairs after Carole, who motioned at the fridge and said, "Okay, help yourselves."

"Hey," protested Finn. "You tricked us."

"You're big boys; you can make your own lunches."

Finn made a face, but opened the fridge and pulled out the cheese, bread, and lunch meat. Blaine settled himself down at the table with and apple and some yogurt. Halfway through the yogurt he realized that he was actually hungry after all and got back up to make himself a sandwich as well. He hadn't taken more than two bites of it when his phone started to ring.

He pulled it out of his pocked and warily checked the caller ID. To his relief, the name that popped up on the screen was Wes's, not his father's. He accepted the call.

"Hello?"

"Blaine! Where the hell are you? We've been trying to get ahold of you for days. You, like, disappeared from the face of the planet. Are you okay, man? Did something happen?"

It suddenly dawned on Blaine that both he and Kurt, and he supposed Finn as well, had missed two days of school, during which Blaine hadn't even thought to go online or check his phone. No wonder his friends were freaking out.

"Wes, I'm sorry I haven't been in touch. Something did happen, but I'm fine—"

"What happened? Was it your dad? Did he—did you—?"

"Wes, calm down. It was nothing like that, I promise. He didn't do anything. I didn't try anything."

"Then what is it?"

"Maybe he'd tell you if you gave him a chance to get the words out," said David's voice in the background.

"Look, guys. It's kind of…complicated. Are you guys free to come over here and talk about it?"

"Where is here?"

"Lima. I'm at Kurt's house."

"Kurt? So you two are talking again?"

"Yes. Kurt's in the hospital."

"What! ?"

"He got jumped on Saturday night. Beat up pretty bad. By pure luck Finn and I showed up in time to stop the worst of it. You remember Finn, Kurt's step brother."

"Duh," said Wes, "we only practically sieged your house together. And of course we'll come over. David, go grab your car."

"Why do I always have to drive?"

"Because when I drive it gives my mom ulcers. And yours too. Go."

"I swear you drive like that just so you won't have to do the driving," said David's retreating voice.

"Whine, whine, whine," said Wes. "Blaine, we'll be there as soon as we can, and you're going to tell us everything, you understand?"

"Yes, I will, I promise," said Blaine. "You already know a lot of it, but yes, I promise I'll tell you."

"Good," said Wes. "See you soon."

"Yes, see you soon." Blaine ended the call and looked up to find Burt standing beside the table, looking at him intently.

"Who was that?"

"My friend Wes," said Blaine. He wasn't scared of Burt the way he was of his own father, but Kurt's dad still made him slightly nervous. "He and David, that's my other best friend from Dalton, are going to come over. If that's alright," he added, belatedly realizing that he should have asked permission before inviting his friends to someone else's house. He hadn't even thought about it; Wes and David tended to have that effect on him, and people in general. "If it's not we can go out somewhere, it's fine. They just want to know what's going on with Kurt and stuff."

"They can come here," said Burt. "I've actually been wanting to talk with them."

"Uh, you have?" said Blaine.

Burt nodded, but offered no more on the subject.

Now feeling distinctly nervous, Blaine finished his sandwich and then went upstairs to gel his hair, not because he really cared about Wes and David seeing him without gel—they were among the few who had before—but because it was something to while he waited for them to arrive.

RIP Corey Monteith