Limits

Summary: Taken from a prompt on the Glee Angst Meme. Burt Hummel's dead, Kurt Hummel's doing his best to stay under the radar of Child Services, and the bullying is quickly bringing him to the end of his steadily shortening rope. The tiny, unused razor in the jewelry box seems to agree with that assessment. So it is really any wonder that when he catches sight of a blue police box left open just a crack that he would run inside?

Disclaimer: Nope. No, no, no.

AN: The feedback on the last chapter was lovely, thank you so much! I wasn't expecting the sheer amount of alerts and favorites I got on the last chapter. Here's the next section. By the way, the answer to the overwhelming question in the reviews: this starts out with Ninth Doctor.

Rose knew full well that there was little point in pretending that nothing was wrong when the Doctor bustled back into the TARDIS, a paper sack of donuts in his hand.

"Make sure you wear a coat next time you step out, it's getting a bit nippy—what's going on?" the Doctor had caught onto Rose's mood and the fact that she was sitting on the spinny stool in the corner and going at half the speed she normally would. Rose shifted uncomfortably.

"Before I start, I'd like to make it clear that none of this is my fault. At all. None."

The Doctor's face clouded over and he looked wary.

"Oh no. What have you done?"

"What have I done? That's nice, why did I even bother with the disclaimer?" Rose directed her question towards the ceiling but almost immediately got back to the task at hand, "Anyway, um, someone kind of got in. And before you start, I closed the door. Locked it, even. But apparently, it was open."

The Doctor cocked his head, eyebrows furrowing.

"Where-?" he started and Rose hurried to finish.

"He's in the bathroom. All the other rooms are on safety lock." Biting her lip, she reached out a hand to grip the sleeve of his leather jacket, "Doctor, he's just a kid. A tiny little scrap of a thing and he looks like he hasn't seen any sort of kindness in weeks. The only reason he even tried to get in was because he was being chased, by a whole herd of boys twice his size, and he was covered in old food. You wouldn't have been able to—" She was cut off by a hand reaching forward to settle over her lips.

The look on the Doctor's face was exasperated but there was a hint of something that looked like amusement as well.

"Rose, the TARDIS is… well, she's more complicated than she seems. Half the time, I don't get how she works. So if you did lock the doors –I believe you, don't look at me like that!- and she opened them for him, then there's nothing you could have done. I do believe, however, that I want to get a look at this… guest." The Doctor ran a hand over his hair, short and cropped close to his head, "I'm not heartless; I'm not going to… well I don't know, eat him or something. You humans are so imaginative."

Rose couldn't hold back the undignified snort.

"Don't tell him that, it took me forever to convince him that I wasn't going to eat his brains."

"Brain-eating, really? No decent creature eats brains, do you have any idea of the kinds of diseases that can be transmitted through brain tissue? Repulsive," The Doctor huffed and without waiting for further information, began to make his way towards the bathroom. He knocked and then completely negated the action by going ahead to yank the door open anyway without waiting for a response.

He stopped and Rose bumped into his back.

Kurt was stripped down to his boxers and was leaning back on the floor against the tub, completely asleep. His clothing had been draped over the shower bar, washed and rinsed and hung up to dry. The Doctor just raised an eyebrow.

"You picked a hell of a guest, didn't you?" he asked, snickering at Rose's indignant declaration to the contrary behind him. "Skinny little thing, isn't he? You'd think someone who wears Gucci would eat a bit more. That's humans for you, though." Shaking his head, the Doctor approached the sleeping boy, his eyes taking in the pale skin, the circles around his eyes, and the dark, angry bruises that mottled his skin in various states of healing. The bruises would certainly explain the need for a t-shirt, a turtleneck, and a thigh-length coat. His face darkened and he knelt down, reaching out a hand to tap Kurt on the shoulder. No response.

"Doctor?" Rose asked behind him, "Is he okay? He didn't pass out, did he?" Her voice was worried.

The Doctor shook his head.

"As far as I can tell, he's just sleeping."

"We can at least move him to a sofa or something."

"We're not keeping him, Rose."

She scowled at him.

"Did I say anything?"

He smiled at her in response.

"You don't need to; it's written all over your face. Rein in your heartstrings; I can feel you emoting all over the place."

"Still, we can at least let him sleep somewhere that isn't the floor of a bathroom. Then when he wakes up, we can send him on his way," Rose said insistently, coming around him to settle on her haunches in front of Kurt, peering at his face. "He's so little." The Doctor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Alright, alright. If you can find a blasted sofa, I'll stick him on it until he wakes up."

"There's a sofa in the movie room," Rose called behind her as she exited the bathroom and then it was just Kurt and the Doctor, who spent just a little bit longer looking over him than he needed to.

"Pffft, movie room. Never needed a movie room before I lost my mind and decided to go picking up girls again." He scoffed a little bit and leaned forward, slipping one hand under Kurt's knees and bracing his back with the other to lift him up off the floor. "Too light, kid; you need the chips more than Rose does."

The movie room looked like its name: one very long sofa stretched across the length of the entire back wall, while the wall directly in front had one very large flatscreen. Rose had already dragged out a blanket from somewhere and added some pillows that the Doctor suspected had come from her own bedroom. When he entered, she looked up expectantly and gestured for him to set the boy down.

Kurt didn't move the entire time; not when he was laid down onto the cushions and not when the Doctor tugged the blanket up around his chin and not when Rose reached out to brush his bangs away from his face.

Rose walked out to see if any of Kurt's clothes could get tossed in the dryer.

The Doctor settled down to wait.

The first thing that Kurt noticed was that he couldn't possibly be in a bathroom anymore.

The second thing that Kurt noticed was that his brain didn't feel like it was trying to swim through pudding.

The third thing that Kurt noticed was that he was being loomed over by an unfamiliar man. He promptly squeaked, flailed, and fell off the couch. A hand reached out to tap him on the forehead, and the strange man with the large ears in the leather jacket said, all too conversationally,

"Careful, kid. Don't want to damage your delicious brain, do we?"

Kurt paled and flinched, only to have the stranger burst out laughing, deep and rumbling.

"Oh wow, that actually worked. Rose was right, you are a jumpy one, aren't you?"

"…are you the Doctor?" Kurt asked warily, looking the man up and down from his leather shoes to his leather jacket. Seconds later, he realized that yeah, he was only in his boxers and that was kind of completely embarrassing.

"In one," the Doctor replied, watching Kurt scramble back up onto the couch and bring the blanket protectively up to his shoulders, "And I'd like to ask you a few things, mostly about those bruises and how you managed to get yourself into my TARDIS."

Kurt didn't think that anything could have stopped him quicker than the realization that strangers had seen his locker marks and handprints, but apparently there was.

"Your tardis?"

"TARDIS," the Doctor corrected as if he could tell that Kurt was thinking about it incorrectly, "Time And Relative Dimension In Space. Also known as the place we're currently residing."

"Hell of a police box, isn't it?"

"Chameleon circuit, actually. It's supposed to adjust its appearance to the area and time period –yes, time period- but it got stuck as a police box a long time ago. Luckily, humans can be incredibly unobservant and don't tend to notice it. It's best to not think about it too hard."

Kurt's eyes boggled and he stared at the Doctor. His brain had gotten stuck on the words time period, and combined with the implication that it didn't just sit there, and oh shit this was totally a time machine. He was stuck in a time machine with a guy who knew how to work that time machine and who only went by Doctor.

"I…I need to go. I mean—yeah. Go. I'll just go. I didn't mean to intrude, I just—I just didn't want to get my face decked in again and the door really was just open so don't be mad at Rose or anything, I didn't try to break in or anything—"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down," the Doctor interrupted, visibly picking though his ramble, "In case you haven't noticed, people generally don't go walking around in winter in their skivvies." Kurt flushed unhappily, drawing the blanket just a little tighter to him. "For the other matter—"

He was interrupted when the door opened and Rose poked her head in, her blonde hair pulled up out of her face.

"Doctor, did you know that your magic dryer even works on—oh hey, he's awake. How're you feeling? Your clothes are dry and wear-ready again. I left them in the bathroom, the door's still open-"

"F-fine, thanks," Kurt avoided the Doctor's gaze as he got up, "Really, I'll just get dressed and be out of your hair. Thanks for letting me use your bathroom!" And then he was pushing past Rose and darting into the bathroom, shutting the door with a resolute snap.

"Someone's in a hurry," she commented, eyeing the Doctor's scowl, "I reckon he'll be scared away from any sort of phone booth for the rest of his life after this. Did he say anything about…" she gestured silently to her shoulders and lower neck and the Doctor shook his head.

"No, but that doesn't mean I didn't learn anything. In fact…" he trailed off briefly, "I think he told me quite a bit without saying a thing. Don't badger him, just… if you could, go see him out and make sure he doesn't try and push any buttons."

Rose cocked her head.

"Where are we headed after this?"

"Actually, I think I'd like to stick around for a little bit. There's something I'd like to sort out."

In retrospect, it must have been some sort of stress-induced hallucination because there was no way that he'd actually been inside a time machine, though he would swear on about anything that his clothing should under no circumstances be so clean considering where it had been. Who would even design a time machine to look like that anyway, all curving coral spires and giant bathrooms and really, really comfortable couches?

Kurt shook his head.

It had been a letdown to return to his house despite his relief at still possessing his brain. Three months and he still had that tiny, tiny glitter of hope that when he opened the door he'd realize that it been a dream. A dream or a really long nightmare. That he'd been clonked on the head a few too many times from a few too many dumpster tosses. That he'd fallen off a riser during glee or screwed up the choreography enough that someone completely knocked him out.

He hoped, every single time, that he'd open the door and the lights would be on because it was still a home and he didn't have to have a panic attack every time the electric bill came and his father would be there. He'd still have to make dinner because neither of them had ever trusted Burt Hummel's cooking, but they'd speak easily with one another and maybe Kurt would tease him about Carole. Maybe Burt would try and make a joke about Kurt and boys that would have them both embarrassed and flushing awkwardly, and Kurt would shake a spoon at him.

Never again.

Christmas would never happen again, and Kurt was all-too aware of what spending the day alone felt like. Thanksgiving, too; he hadn't had the motivation to cook and had instead made up a few relatives to visit whenever anyone asked him. They'd never celebrate one another's birthdays together, they'd never set off fireworks in the backyard against all the neighborhood codes again. They'd never go visit his mother together again.

Never, ever again.

Those things would never happen again and Kurt cursed himself for not taking advantage of them before, for not appreciating it more. He wished that he'd been less embarrassed and more grateful that he was loved enough that someone as town-raised and blue collar as his father tried so hard. Kurt wished that he'd tried harder to prevent the nasty phone calls, to hide the stains better, to hide the bruises just a little better because a bad diet wasn't the only thing that could cause a heart attack.

If Kurt had known that the last time he'd see his father alive and himself would be when he stormed off, angry and frustrated, he'd have changed it.

If Kurt had known that the last thing his father would say to him was that he was disappointed in him… well. He'd have gone to the ends of the earth to change it.

Every time, though, that tiny hope inside him always withered and died.

Sighing and closing his eyes, Kurt unconsciously fingered the little velvet box underneath his pillow and wished that that hope would stop growing back because it hurt more and more every time.

He wouldn't think anymore about time machines that looked like police boxes or weird people that lived in them and men in jackets who looked like they knew more than he'd ever said or would ever say. He just wouldn't because he was sick of hope and couldn't handle any more of it when so far it had been his lot to have it all ripped away in the end.

Stubbornly, Kurt closed his eyes and ignored the knowledge that the door to the master bedroom had been shut tight for three months and that eventually, he'd have to do something about it. He hadn't had the nerve to do it yet and he knew that once he did, that would make everything final. In fact, he'd barely even been upstairs, generally limiting himself to his basement bedroom and the kitchen.

"No," he told himself firmly, "No. No. No. You're going to go to sleep and pretend that today never happened. At all." He whuffed into his pillow. "You're losing it, Kurt. Completely losing it."

He was so tempted to skip glee practice. So tempted.

It felt like forever since he'd last had the desire to sing, much less go along with the weekly theme of 'joy' that Schuester had pulled out of his rabbit hat. To be honest, if it weren't for the fact that he'd likely be waylaid by his worried friends every hour of the day, he'd probably have stopped going a month ago.

"And what are you planning on singing this week, Kurt?"

God, if Rachel Berry was actually asking him something like that after all her hullabaloo the past year about solos, there really must be something wrong with the world. If old Kurt had felt the way he did, he'd probably have ripped her head off. New Kurt had a different plan. With a cock of his head, Kurt flashed her a strained smile, just enough to get her to smile back at him. If she was smiling, she wouldn't be so worried, and he'd likely avoid questions.

"I'm not," he replied steadily, "I couldn't come up with anything." That was a lie, he hadn't even thought about it. "You can take my turn."

And that was all it took for Rachel to beam at him, bright as the sun, and bounce away to her seat. Already she was practically wriggling in pride and happiness and Kurt supposed that at least he'd given her some form of good cheer even if it had been a lie. Kurt settled back in his seat and watched the performances, meeting Mr. Schue's eyes steadily, half-daring him to say anything about yesterday, about hauling him out of the dumpster and chasing him down.

Knowing the man, he'd ask Kurt to stay after club to try and talk to him.

Kurt didn't want to talk. Frankly, if he hadn't been forced to think, he probably wouldn't be doing much of that either. Fat chance was he going to sit through an interrogation that would only make him feel worse from the man who watched him be bullied mercilessly since the first day of high school and who never even tried.

William Schuester could have tried every single day for the last two and some years to stop it, and he chose now to be concerned?

Like hell.

Blue eyes narrowed, and Schuester looked away.

True to his intentions, Kurt was the first out the door when club was over and he feigned deafness to the voice calling his name. Mercedes walked with him for a bit but stopped at her locker. Normally he would have stopped with her.

He didn't and headed instead for the main doors, flinging them open and beginning the walk to the parking lot.

He almost walked past her.

…Almost.

The boy whirled and faced the girl leaning up against the school wall with her arms folded expectantly over her chest. She waggled her fingers at him. Kurt gaped.

"What the—Rose?"

"Hello," she greeted, "Dreary lookin' school, isn't it? Looks like a prison."

Kurt couldn't help making a face.

"Trust me, you have no idea," he muttered, then shook his head as if physically shaking himself out of his distraction. "Wait a second, what are you even doing here? I totally imagined you. No doctors, no time machines, no weirdos who live in them—"

"Who's a weirdo? Certainly not me."

"Just a—I don't know, a sleep-deprived, drug-free dug dream."

Rose just watched him, an oddly tolerant and irritatingly amused look on her face. Kurt scowled at her.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," she said lightly, "Just kind of impressed. I had to be told that the TARDIS was a time machine. You just got it like that. Though you're definitely sleep-deprived if you slept through the Doctor carrying you through the TARDIS like a wee babe."

"Oh god, it's a time machine," the boy groaned softly, raking a hand roughly through his hair, "I'm either crazy, or I wish I was crazy. I don't know what's worse." A hand reached out and patted his shoulder, a gentler touch than he'd had in… well, a long time. He didn't know how, but somehow she avoided the bruises perfectly.

"You're not crazy," Rose told him firmly, "It's a bit much to take in all at once, but you're definitely not—oh, that person's waving at you. …and now they're running at you."

Kurt jerked his head up just in time to be nearly run into by one Finn Hudson, huffing and out of breath.

"Dude, didn't you hear Mr. Schue calling for you?"

The only thing that worked with Mercedes were smiles. For Finn…well. Kurt was terrible but improving at faking smiles. Bitchface was what came naturally. Drawing in a breath that sounded louder in his head, Kurt straightened up and jutted his jaw, tilting his head in such a way that despite being at least a foot shorter, Kurt was staring up at Finn like he towered over him.

"I don't care if he was calling out the winning lottery numbers, he can kiss my—"

"Oh, look at the time," Rose interrupted, reaching out and grabbing Kurt by the hand, "Don't you have to help me with my terrible roots? Come on, Kurt, let's go, let's go, we walk by moving our feet, thank you…" And just like that, she'd tugged him through the school gates and out of Finn's view. As quickly as they'd started off, Kurt dug his heels in and yanked his hand away, backing up a few steps and watching Rose warily.

"I appreciate you getting me out of that, but what are you even doing here?" he asked, unable to keep the suspicion out of his voice and not really wanting to. "If you're stalking me, you're in for a boring time of it."

The girl sputtered indignantly at him and Kurt shrugged, turning on a heel and beginning the walk to his car again, fully intending to take the back way. It was an obvious dismissal but Rose ignored it in favor of hurrying after him, steps matching up easily with his.

"I'm not stalking you, I promise," she said persistently, "Just…curious."

Kurt raised a disbelieving eyebrow and she shook her head, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"Let me try again, okay? That sounded less weird in my head. Let's just say that for one, anyone noticing the TARDIS is something very, very unusual. For another, someone being able to actually get in is almost unheard of. Did you know that Genghis Khan tried to get in and couldn't? I wasn't there for that one but I'll believe it."

Kurt wanted to tell her that it seemed that she was prone to believe a lot of things, but soon remembered that he'd actually woken up in the blasted thing and if she was crazy, he had to be as well. If he could manage to fall into a time machine, it shouldn't be that far off to imagine the Mongol hordes trying to beat it to smithereens with axes and arrows.

"So where are you going?" Rose asked.

"To my car."

"Then where?"

"My house," Kurt snapped, "What's with the interrogation?" He would have continued, but the second he caught sight of his car he also caught sight of a flash of red heading towards his car. A very familiar flash of red. "Hell."

"Friends of yours?"

"And thus the very definition of antonym," Kurt muttered lowly, "So much for that plan."

"…Ah," was all Rose said in response, staring intently at the jocks lurking around the black SUV before switching her gaze back to Kurt, "Want me to rough them up for you? I've been told that I'm a pretty good shot with a lead pipe and a bottle of vinegar." Kurt stared at her in horror and confusion, and the girl shook her head. "I kid, Slitheen humor."

"Ugh. At least my house isn't far. I'll get my car later."

"Your house? Not home?" The girl's tone was far too measured and delicate to be accidental and Kurt shot her a sharp, piercing glance.

"Stop it," he said, "Just…stop. I don't know what you're doing. I don't really want to know. I just want…" Kurt froze, catching the look in wide, hazel eyes that said that Rose was very interested in knowing what he wanted. His breath caught when the image came, unbidden into the forefront of his mind, of what exactly he wanted.

A house that wasn't empty, someone who could take some of the weight away, someone that could let him feel again.

"Yes? What do you want?" Rose inquired gently.

The few leaves that hadn't been blown away by the brisk wind crunched under their feet and Kurt noticed idly that he could see his breath in the air. When had it turned into winter?

"Nothing. Just leave it."

The subject was dropped and they walked in silence, Kurt keeping his head down and his shoulders hunched, Rose walking tall and making sure to step in all the extra crunchy leaves. He'd given up on losing her and she was determined to ignore the signals that really, he'd like to go the rest of the way by himself.

"I've seen the end of the world. It was the first place the Doctor and I went after we left London," Rose spoke up suddenly, hands folded behind her back.

"Fire or ice?" Kurt asked in reply, eyes shuttered.

"Robert Frost, very nice," the girl parried, "Which do you favor?"

Burn, Kurt couldn't help but think, watching the naked tree limbs and the few people out walking. He recognized a few of them from his classes or the hallways. Could he really stand an eternity of cold? Could anyone?

"From what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire," the boy quoted, shifting his bag on his shoulder.

Rose smiled thinly at him and he was suddenly reminded of his own not-happy-at-all smiles.

"You'd be right, then," she said, voice as dry and crisp as the leaves. "I watched the world burn."

The rest of the walk was silent.

Kurt stopped short when the two of them reached his driveway.

"Well, this is my house. Thanks for, uh, walking me back or whatever your job was to do." Kurt didn't wait for a response before he was walking up the steps, and if he hadn't been listening, he might not have heard it.

"Why do you assume that this was a job? Is it impossible for someone to care or be interested?"

At that, Kurt couldn't resist turning to look her in the eyes, smiling even though that was the last thing he wanted to do.

"For me? Yeah, it's impossible. People don't care about people like me, not here. Probably not anywhere. Aside from that? Your Doctor boyfriend was interested, and interested people ask questions. You're just really obvious about it." And he dashed up the rest of the day, slipping in through the door and locking it with a snap.

He completely missed the annoyed,

"Why does everyone in the entire time continuum assume he's my thrice-damned boyfriend?"

AN2: Please leave a review if you enjoyed this, or even if you want to bludgeon me to death with a rake; every little bit of feedback is precious to a writer. Thank you!