A.N.: Positive reviews always make my day! I tell you, this story makes me so happy (especially since I apparently write Niff well), and I hope to continue living up to expectations. As of today, Ryan Murphy has not yet passed on the rights of GLEE yet!

Natalia woke up at five in the morning, her fears keeping the better of her; it was actually a lie to say that she had woken up, because she had been tossing around in bed the entire night. Somehow, James still managed to sleep peacefully on the spot beside her.

To keep up the facade, she baked a fresh batch of cookies, putting them onto a wonderfully beautiful tray for looks. Then, once it was seven, she took a shower and fixed her hair in a simple sort of style, gently curling her shoulder-length blonde hair - how she envied her husband's dark locks. At seven-thirty, she trudged softly into the bedroom, gingerly shaking James' shoulder. "Sweetie, it's time to get up. After you take your shower, I need to talk to you about something."

The man grunted, pushing himself up from the bed, running a hand through his perfectly cut hair. He looked up at his wife, slowly greeting her. Natalie had already laid out all the clothes, opening the bathroom door for her husband.

Walking back into the kitchen, Natalie was quite surprised to see Jane sitting at the table, pouring herself a bowl of cereal. "Morning," the young blonde said, not looking quite awake. "What are the cookies for?" she asked, eyeing them with a look (if she were older), of lust.

"For your brother, dear," Natalie answered.

The two sat by the table, not talking, each deep in thought. Natalie had initially excused herself for a cup of coffee and then came back. Finally, Jane opened her mouth, ready to ask the question that had since been bothering her. "Where's Nick?" she asked; her brother was always prompt to the breakfast table.

"He's at a friend's house."

"I thought he was just going to a party at Wes'" Jane noted, seeming quite older than her twelve-year-old form would show. Next year, she'd be enrolling at Crawford County and could hardly wait, because that meant that she could see her brother every now and again (that, and she couldn't wait to embarrass him).

Natalie, who had been in the middle of her drink, nearly choked on it. "Um, dear, he's at the hospital."

"Who's at the hospital?" James asked, coming into the dining room, dressed completely. He bent over to give his daughter a quick kiss on the top of her head.

Now, Natalie could hardly even think. She had planned on telling James right when they got there, so that he'd still be in the initial shock and couldn't really comprehend what was going on. Now, she wasn't quite sure what to do; but they said the truth always helped (though she wasn't quite sure). "Nick is, James."

The large man sat down with a thump, a low growl escaping his lips. "Nat, what are you talking about?" he paused, then stopped. "How long have you known?"

"Yesterday."

Natalie wasn't quite sure what color her husband was seeing, but she was certain it was some shade of red. The man gripped his coffee cup tightly, his knuckles turning white. "It better not have something to do with-"

"No!" the woman retorted, feeling much too bold for her own good, "he had an allergic reaction. And he's tired and dehydrated, and-"

"It's that club he's in!" James roared; Jane got up from the table and ran up the stairs. "Now we have to go get him from the hospital, and he's going to miss school, and you know his grades drop when that happens!" Of course, just like James to only think about grades and colleges for his sick son."

Natalie wanted to yell, she wanted so much to tell her husband how important their son was to her, that he deserved better than to be treated like a burden. And she knew that's how Nick felt about himself. "Please, darling, let's just pick him up from the hospital. Then we can decide what to do from there." She kept her voice calm, much calmer than usual.

James only seethed more. "Fine, we'll pick him up and let him stay home for two whole weeks so that he feels so much better by the time he has no chance of getting into college!"

There was no way of getting a point across with that man. Natalie only rested her head in her hands and sighed deeply. "He'll be fine by Monday, I'm sure."

James picked up his car keys from the key rack and shrugged on a heavy jacket; he looked over at his wife (only a title, not a sympathetic sort of thing). She followed and pulled on her expensive peacoat, hating the way she felt - it was guilt mixed with regret sprinkled with fear.

After telling Jane where they would be, the couple started on the road, James drumming his fingers irritably against the steering wheel. The roads were still icy, but definitely not as much as they were before. Snow was piled high against the edges of driveways, the trails of sidewalk that had been shoveled out creating a stark difference. It was funny, if not for the fact that Natalie's mind was swimming with horrible thoughts that she couldn't quite sort out; she hated not being able to sort her thoughts.

The hospital parking lot had been shoveled, and as much as Natalie liked to believe that James might possibly slip on the ice, he didn't. She, however, had to make sure that her boots didn't glide across the pavement, that would undeniably end in an embarrassing crash.

When the pair got inside, they found a pretty-looking receptionist at the front desk, twirling her hair absentmindedly; instead of asking James (who would flirt incessantly), Natalie marched up to the front desk, asking for a "Nicholas Duval."

The receptionist, a blonde girl who didn't look like she really wanted to be there, retorted, saying that they only had a "Nick Duval."

Fighting back the urge to make a huge scene, Natalie thanked the unhelpful girl and returned to her seat with James. In a few minutes (and it wasn't long enough), Nick walked out of a room, fully dressed in his uniform from the previous night. He looked as if he had just taken a shower because his hair was practically sticking to his face. James was the first to rise from his seat, and Natalie could see the inward sigh from her son.

But there was something peculiar about the scene - behind Nick was another boy, a blonde that was significantly taller than Nick, and the pair seemed to be rather close.

"How are you feeling?" Natalie asked, hoping (or rather, praying), that James would say nothing in the company of this other boy; she really didn't want any rumors, true or not, to be spread about her husband, and more importantly, her family.

Nick nodded, the way he did when he sized down a situation. "Fine." He refused to look either of his parents in the eye, a guilty look overtaking him.

James made a low grunting noise in mock concern. "Are you sure? You don't need to spend another three weeks here?" Natalie silently cursed as she watched her son gulp down a sudden outburst and force out a faux smile; he had so much more self-restraint that she might ever have.

"No, I'm feeling good, Dad." The way he said it was as if there was nothing odd about his family, as if they were a perfectly happy family with nothing bad in the world, and nothing could ever be wrong with Nick Duval's father; he was a politician, after all. One would think of all the stories in the United States about politicians, people might be a bit more suspicious.

This answer didn't seem to please the dark-haired man as he sized up the blonde friend. "Did you hire someone to take care of you?"

The blonde was taken back by this statement, biting his lip in response. Nick merely laughed lightly. "No, Jeff wanted to stay for the night because it was so bad out."

Natalie supposed, once the name had been said, that she had heard mentions of the name 'Jeff' come from Nick's mouth every now and again; and now, there was a face to accompany the famous name. He seemed nice and down-to-earth.

James began to frown. "Well, does he need a ride home, too?" Jeff shook his head quickly, catching Nick off guard.

"No, I already called my mom. While you were taking a shower," he told Nick, who had seemed slightly curious before the second half of the statement.

"You two weren't in there together?"

Natalie made an audible gasp at the same time as her son; Jeff, on the other hand, made a choking sort of sound that sound strangely like a chuckle. "No, sir, we're not dating. Besides, he's way too smart for me." Jeff didn't seem to notice the look of shock pass Nick's face and another face of endearment replace the surprise; they weren't dating, not yet.

"I'm sure you could find someone smarter in a public school," James shot back. Any bit of praise that was not directed towards James Duval couldn't really be considered praise at all, could it?

The blonde still kept his cool. "No, Nick's the one that helps me with my math. And science. And especially English."

"Is that why he doesn't get good grades? He's helping you?" Natalie bit the inside of her mouth to keep a growl from escaping; she knew very well that her son got excellent grades, but he apparently needed perfect grades to be considered a true Duval.

This time, Jeff seemed a bit more irritated. "Well, he keeps my grades passing."

"What college are you applying to?" James asked, properly prepared to argue with a high school student over what colleges were a better choice and was fully ready to compare with Nick, as if he wasn't standing right in front of the two.

"Stop!" Nick said, a little loudly for Natalie's taste. James stopped talking with Jeff abruptly and turned to face his son with a stern look written on his face. "Can we just go home now?"

"Keep that up, and you'll walk home," James answered coldly; the coldest part was that he was serious. Nick shot a look to Jeff that was something akin to apology. He didn't want his friend, obviously his best friend, to see his father in such a light. He, like Natalie, liked to believe that if they pretended that James didn't act a certain way and wasn't too harsh with his words and actions, wasn't. Unfortunately, the various bruises running up Nick's arm (strategically covered by that useful uniform), seemed to disagree with this theory.

"I'm sorry," Nick uttered softly, defeated; he realized that there was no way to argue with his father, that it'd only make a situation twenty times worse.

Jeff snorted. "What are you apologizing for?" he asked, unimpressed with Nick's parents (and Natalie knew that she was included in the disappointment). "You didn't do anything wrong." He didn't go on to say that James had done something wrong, only that Nick hadn't.

The older Duval said nothing in return; he just turned around to leave through the revolving doors. Natalie followed and looked back to her son to accompany her. Nick mumbled a quiet and meaningful thanks to his friend and left with his mother, leaving the blonde to himself.

Jeff couldn't have been more scared; not for him, but for Nick. He dreaded Monday, when his friend would be absent, still at home recovering, still at home with that sorry excuse for a father. Sure, the man looked like Nick (except for height), but the two couldn't be more different. And Mrs. Duval, she didn't say a lot, but anyone could tell that there were a million or so things running through her mind, but she was just too afraid to say what she really thought about her husband. Jeff couldn't blame her; the man was intimidating. He watched the Duval car as far as his eyes would allow before it turned a corner, disappearing from sight; he could only hope that Nick didn't do anything too stupid.

"So you ate some walnuts," James said, a statement and not a question. From the back seat, Nick nodded meekly. "And then you got tired and thirsty. And then you had to go to the hospital and sleep in a really comfy bed with some pretty hospital gowns." The man's voice was intensifying, and Nick was cringing.

"Yes, sir." He didn't deny it, because in his father's strange mind, that's exactly what had happened.

"But it was too cold out, and you couldn't go home," his father was making mock crooning noises. "So then Daddy and Mommy had to come get you."

Nick refused to answer that accusation; his father was certainly not his 'Daddy'. Instead, he put his head down. "I'm going to school on Monday," Nick said. He couldn't miss school because his already-low grades wouldn't allow one day absent from school.

"Good, because you're going."

The small brunette nodded, ignoring his body's protests, the screaming ache in his body that just wanted to sleep in bed for a few days and maybe more. "You shouldn't have said those things to Jeff," he ventured, saying exactly how he felt. It was one thing to talk that way to one's own son, but not their best friend.

"Why, are you two dating?"

Nick knew how his father felt about homosexuals. And he didn't dare mention what Jeff had said to him the previous night; it was suicide. Or murder. Possibly both.

"No, but he's my best friend," Nick answered. "And you shouldn't have said anything."

The car stopped in the Duval driveway, James' hands resting angrily on the steering wheel. "Get in the house and stay in the living room," the older man hissed through gritted teeth. Nick did as told for the most part. He got out of the car, pulling his backpack with him. And, like instructed, he walked inside the house, staying in the living room for all of two seconds. But then rebellion caught its wonderful hold and urged the teen to simply trudge up the stairs. At this moment, he didn't think that his body could hurt any worse than at that moment, so he really didn't see much need to just wait to get hit.

No, he spited his father, forcing him up a flight of stairs and into his son's bedroom. Nick looked up from his bed, willing him to do something. It wasn't that he thought his father wouldn't or couldn't hit him; he was quite certain that a nasty bruise would come from this rebellion.

He was simply being mean.

And, like expected, a bruised jaw and purpling marks on the side of both his shoulders nearly caused Nick to laugh, perhaps out of irony, perhaps out of insanity. James stared in disbelief once Nick lost the battle of silence to laughter and emitted a chuckle. "What's funny?" the man demanded.

"Me," Nick admitted, shaking his head. "Look at me. I'm short, skinny, bruised, and sick. On top of all that, I'm gay. You couldn't have paid someone to be a worse son."

And Nick knew he was right; he didn't think, for even a second, that his father was a bad father, only troubled; troubled because he had been cursed with a perfectly horrible son who couldn't do a single thing right.

James stared in shock at his son's epiphany; he had said everything the man had harbored resentment towards his son for years without even acting shocked or surprise. Nick could tell when he wasn't wanted, could tell when he was nothing but a hassle to hide.

But even James Duval had never simply said it like it was common sense.

"Dad, I'm going to take a nap because I'm also rebellious," Nick smirked, earning himself another slap. Nonetheless, he kicked off his shoes and looked his father plainly in the eyes.

And, after a well-aimed punch and the declaration from his father that Nick was a complete and utter waste of human life, Nick curled himself up under his covers and drifted off into the most peaceful sleep that he had ever had in an entire lifetime.

Because for once, good or bad, Nick was finally sure of who he was.

A.N.: Okay, this is pretty much bordering angst, but I promise that Nick will get better after Jeff gives him a good talking-to on Monday. Yeah, he'll probably have a sick spell, but nothing big. Sorry if this chapter was just too much; I promise more Klaine for the weekend! I hope you all thoroughly enjoyed, and feel free to drop a review! Also, Happy Thanksgiving!