A/N: Wow, I'm uploading again? And it hasn't been three months? I'm making progress! XD
Now, before anyone jumps down my throat about how Diva-y Kurt is acting in this chapter, as opposed to how heart broken he was in the last one, here's my train of thought: Kurt is very upset about the deaths of his friends, but he also doesn't like showing 'weakness' in public, which is why he was only crying when he was in his home. Once someone gets up in his face about how he 'killed' his friends, however, well, the Diva act is pulled out, and he gets back to the sarcastic, quick-witted Kurt that we all love. :)
And now, ON WITH THE STORY!
Chapter 15 - Kurt (for the third time)
Kurt fidgeted in his chair.
Repeatedly crossing and uncrossing his legs, he glanced around the room. Officer Matthews had taken him to the local sheriff's office, and he was currently in an interrogation room.
The room was empty, save two chairs and a large, grey metal table. Both the table and the chairs were nailed to the floor. A small, barred window let in a sliver of sunlight from its place near the ceiling.
Kurt closed his eyes and breathed deeply as he waited for Officer Matthews to come back. After a few minutes, the policeman reentered, carrying a small manila folder.
"Kurt Hummel," he said, sitting down in the chair across the table from Kurt, "Born in Lima Memorial to Burt Hummel, co-owner of Hummel Tire and Lube, and Elizabeth Hummel, deceased."
At the word 'deceased', Kurt flinched, but remained silent.
"You have a relatively small record, just one count of petty theft when you were -" Officer Matthews flipped through some papers, "Seven?"
"I'm sorry! I was young, and I really wanted that tiara, and I gave it back, and I apologized, and-"
"Shut up, kid," the officer cut off Kurt's rambling apology with a flick of his hand.
Biting back a particularly snarky comment about how kids are goats and he is not, Kurt sat back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap.
Officer Matthews put the folder down on the table. "Look, kid. Stealing a tiara when you were seven is nothing. But what you're being accused of right now? It can get you into some serious trouble."
"I didn't do anything, I swear! I have no clue what Brittany was talking about! I-"
"Kid," Officer Matthews leaned forward on the table, lowering his voice slightly, "Look, we can do this the hard way or the easy way. If you did have any part in these murders, just tell me now. Maybe I'd be able to help lighten your sentence. But if you want to lie, and you're found guilty, the least you'll get is 50 years."
"I didn't have anything to do with any of this!" Kurt hissed, "Trying to bribe me into confessing anything is a severe waste of your time, Mr. Matthews, because I am innocent. Now, can I please go free? All this stress is making me break out."
Suddenly, Officer Matthews slammed his fist on the table, creating a loud bang and causing Kurt to jump slightly. "Listen, you little fairy," he spat, "People are dead. Your classmates are dead, and you are to blame. Tell me what you know."
Kurt's eyes blazed. He stood up, ready to answer with some nasty comments of his home, when the door swung open.
"Hold on here," Burt Hummel said as he marched into the room, "Why the heck is my son in here? Didn't you know, -" Burt checked the name on the policeman's badge, "-Officer Matthews, that minors should not be questioned without the presence of a lawyer or a guardian? Or did you not learn that at your three days of Police Academy?"
Officer Matthews sputtered over an answer.
"If you don't mind," Burt continued, "I will be taking my son, and we will be going home. When you have a legitimate excuse to arrest him, other than the word of a criminally insane teenager, you can come and get him. But until then, Kurt, we're leaving."
Kurt exhaled heavily, shooting his father a small, grateful smile. Getting up to follow Burt, he turned to look back at the flustered policeman. "Adieu for now," Kurt said, curtsying deeply, before half-running after his father.
The Hummels walked down the hallway in silence, before Kurt cleared his throat. "Dad?" he said, "Thanks."
"Welcome." Burt said gruffly.
Kurt studied his father briefly. "You believe me, don't you?" he said softly.
Burt stopped. He sighed, and then turned to face his son. "I believe that the son I know would never play a part in the murders of his friends. I believe that... That I don't know what Brittany meant when she said your name, but I believe that you don't either. I trust you, son."
Kurt's face scrunched. He bit back a sob. Stepping forward, he threw his arms around his father. "Thank you, Dad." he said, his voice choked up.
"Kurt Hummel?" a voice called from down the hallway.
The father-son hug was broken apart as a police officer ran frantically toward them.
"Kurt Hummel," he gasped once he reached them, "Kurt Hummel, we need you right now."
Burt stepped between Kurt and the officer. "Why do you need my son?"
"It's Brittany. She heard he was here, and, well, she demanded to talk to you. When we refused to let her, she punched one of her guards and started to throw a fit. We can't get her to stop; we had to handcuff her to a chair, but she still might manage to hurt herself or somebody else. Please come talk to her?"
Kurt hesitated. He looked into his father's worried eyes, and then the officers pleading ones.
"I'll go."