Finn started at the violent crash that resounded from the basement.

He listened desperately, trying to hear past the painful beating of his own heart and his ragged breaths, for more sounds, but nothing came.

The man beneath him, the man in the leather jacket whose name he didn't even know, shook and wriggled in his grip, saying things that further clouded Finn's hearing.

He had to get down to the basement.

Finn suddenly didn't care about the man; the gun was no longer pointed at his own chest, so this man posed no further threat. There were more important things to think about, and the man was just another distraction.

The leather of the man's jacket had become hot under his sweaty palm. Finn let go and rose to his feet, keeping the gun pointed at the man. He glanced quickly at the blood on the kitchen floor, but didn't allow himself to think about it.

Finn backed away through the living room, sneaking glances at the basement door all the while. At first the man stilled, then stood, eyeing Finn warily. He moved carefully to the front door, breath hitched, eyes wide on the barrel of the gun.

Finn didn't care.

Finn turned and focused his attention on the basement just as he heard the front door open and slam behind him.

The basement was quiet.

Gripping the gun tightly with both hands, ready for the mean looking guy - Charlie, Craig had called him - to pop up at any moment. He kept his eyes trained on the little he could see of the basement bedroom, barely noticing the socks that lay on the steps halfway down the stairs.

When he passed the socks, Finn was finally able to see into the room. He stopped at the sight of the full-grown man lying prone on the floor, surrounded by pieces of glass and man wasn't moving, but as Finn held his own breath he could fainly see the man's back move up and down. He was alive. Finn pointed the gun at him and continued his descent.

Part of him felt relief at the sight of the mean looking guy out of commission. But he needed to find Kurt. He had to.

Finn didn't spot his brother until he reached the bottom of the stairs. The unconscious man was lying only three feet from him, and he spared him another glance as his eyes scanned the room. He swallowed hard when he spotted the throw blanket he'd laid over Kurt earlier lying on the floor next to his bed. Then he heard a watery intake of breath behind him and he turned, pointing the gun Kurt's chest.

Finn gasped in a breath; he hadn't been breathing enough, he realized momentarily. The gun jerked away from his hand to land away from all three of them, across the room next to the couch.

Kurt was there, crouched against the wall, staring at mean guy's body.

Pulling in more desperately needed jagged breaths, Finn fell to his knees next to Kurt. This time the relief washed over him, making his arms wobbly as he held them up to grasp Kurt's face. He had to touch him, feel his warm skin, to know that he was ok, alive, still alive, just like Finn. They were both okay.

It wasn't until his relief began to fade and he'd pulled back from the hug that he hadn't realized he'd initiated that he realized that Kurt wasn't okay. Finn scooted closer and flitted his hands across Kurt's split lip, his cut and bruised cheek, the blood seeping out of the wound just above his temple, then the swollen and carefully positioned wrist Kurt was curled around, and finally the vacant stare in Kurt's eyes; he hadn't even moved when Finn had pulled his body in for the hug, hadn't really noticed that Finn was there.

Finn took more deep breaths and brushed his hand over Kurt's headwound, wondering if it was making Kurt act funny. Kurt didn't even flinch.

"Hey," Finn said, practically a whisper, his hands still touching Kurt's face, his shoulders and arms, needing to feel that he was in front of him and alive.

"Kurt." He tried moving Kurt's face to meet his eyes, but Kurt kept staring ahead of him. "Kurt, hey, you're okay," Finn explained, voice becoming louder, more confident because it was true. They made it, they were okay, they could get the hell out of there.

'I should call the police,' Finn suddenly realized. He looked around the room for his cell, remembering vaguely that he'd left it around the couch. When he'd been playing video games what seemed like days and days ago.

"I'm going to call the police, okay Kurt?" He tried, grasping Kurt's shoulder tightly. "They're going to come and take these guys away, okay?"

Kurt pulled in a watery breath, then his head slowly turned and, without taking his eyes of the body in front of him, he whispered, "Finn?"

"Yeah! I'm here, you're okay, we're both okay!" Finn almost felt like laughing, except the look on Kurt's face hadn't changed. "What are you watching?" he finally asked.

A tremor seemed to pass through Kurt's body. His lids lowered and he turned his head forward again. "Making sure he doesn't move," he muttered, head falling forward slightly at the effort.

Finn nodded, confused. His chest started aching, because Kurt didn't look well. He looked tired and ...dead. But he was okay, because he was upright and talking and breathing, sort of, and alive! Right?

Wrapping his large hands around Kurt's pale face again, Finn tried to make eye contact. "He's not gonna move, okay Kurt? If he does, I have a gun. I have a gun, okay? I'll shoot him, I swear to God I will, so don't worry. You're okay. You're okay, alright?"

Kurt turned his head again, slowly, and their eyes finally met. "I'm okay," he repeated.

Somehow the words only made the pain in his chest grow, because the way Kurt said it only convinced him of the opposite.

"I'll protect you, okay?" he reassured his friend. His brother. Kurt just looked at him, eyelids low, pupils uneven, mouth open slightly as he pulled in what looked like painful breaths.

Finn was having a hard time breathing again.

He sat back on his haunches and allowed Kurt to focus again on the mean guy's body. Finn closed his eyes and pulled in a few steady breaths. His chest was so tight, it felt like his lungs and heart were being crushed. Kurt was whispering something under his breath, and Finn felt like he couldn't look at him anymore.

His phone was on the arm of the couch. Finn kept an eye on the body, just in case it did decide to move, and the other on the gun on the floor in front of him as he dialed 911. He never wanted to touch that gun again, but he would. He would keep his promise and protect Kurt. No one would touch him.

Kurt continued his muttering a little louder while Finn waited for the operator to pick up and ask him what his emergency was.

"S-huh." He took a couple of breaths and started again. "Some guys broke into our house and stole our stuff and held us captive and...I don't know what else."

"Okay where are these men now?"

"One's upstairs...he might be dead. There's one here, knocked out. The other one left."

"Are you in a safe place?"

Finn's eyes slid back to Kurt, rocking slightly against the wall as he watched his captor for any movement.

"He might wake up," Finn told her.

"Okay, you need to get to a safe place away from the robbers. A couple of officers and ambulances are on their way."

"M-my brother's hurt too." Now that he'd looked at Kurt, he couldn't take his eyes off of him. The blood from his temple painted the entire left side of his neck red.

"Can you describe his injuries?"

"Yeah, uh, he has some cuts on his face, a bad one on his head. I think his wrist is broken." Finn moved closer, watching Kurt's lips move over and over again.

"You need to put pressure on any wounds that are still bleeding and try not to move his hand or arm too much. Can you do that?"

Finn nodded, concentrating on grabbing cloth from the endtable and crouching next to Kurt's other side.

"Are you still there?"

"Yeah."

He moved the cloth to the still bleeding wound above Kurt's temple and applied slight pressure. The smaller boy's head moved slightly to the right, but he didn't flinch away or show any sign of being in pain. His lips continued to move, and Finn struggled to hear what he was saying over the sound of the operator's continued instructions.

"I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay," Kurt repeated the words over and over again, his lips barely moving and his eyes still locked on the intruder. Finn forgot about the phone, dropped it somewhere and scooted closer. His hands found Kurt's shoulders, face, neck again as he desperately tried to convey to Kurt the relief that he'd felt minutes ago. Kurt was warm, awake, alive, he was okay.

"Hey," Finn said again, stomach twisting when Kurt didn't turn to him. "You are okay, you're fine, Kurt. The ambulance is coming and you can go get fixed up, good as new."

Kurt continued his chanting but nodded his head, bottom lip quivering, so Finn knew he was listening.

"We're both okay," he continued, pulling Kurt's head in against his chest, wrapping his arms around Kurt's shoulders so that neither of them could see the body anymore. "We'll get you fixed up, and by the time we get back, these guys will be gone and our parents will be fauning over us. We'll get special treatment for weeks, it'll be great. Okay?" He felt Kurt nod against his chest, and Finn had to remind himself of his injured wrist so he wouldn't pull him tighter, into a real hug.

He felt Kurt's shoulders stiffen and begin to shake. And then Kurt was crying, his chanting continuing as he throat tightened and his breath hitched with sobs.

Finn gave in and pulled Kurt so the smaller boy was practically on his lap, and chest to chest they sat until Kurt's sobs slowed and his chanting stopped.

"You're okay," Finn reminded him, and he felt Kurt just nod again and pull in a shaky breath. Finn released him carefully and leaned him against the wall. Kurt's eyes were closed, his face finally begginning to lose the tension pulling it tight as he fell asleep...or passed out. Finn wasn't sure, he just felt relieved that Kurt wasn't staring straight ahead anymore. Or crying.

That's when Finn noticed that Kurt's pants were unbuttoned.