Warnings: None
Summary: It wasn't like Finn could just stand by and watch the bank robbers kill Kurt right in front of him...
.***.
"It's my life and it's now or never. I ain't gonna live forever! I just gotta live while I'm alive." It's My Life, Vitamin D
.***.
"I'm coming in with you."
Kurt rolled his eyes, "Seriously Finn? I'm pretty sure dropping off a check is a one-man operation. And if you stay in the truck we can just take off and -"
"And you're meeting Blaine in ten minutes for a marathon of Project Runway. I know." Finn muttered, slamming the door as he got out of the car, "You guys are joined at the hip lately."
"Jealous? Trouble in paradise?"
"What? Rachel? No, man. I just don't feel the need to spend every afternoon with her." More like Rachel took so many voice and dance and acting lessons in between Glee and school that Finn could barely get in a Friday night date and a little groping.
"Dropping off a check is still only a one-man operation." Kurt huffed, pushing back his bangs with the flick of a finger and looking supremely annoyed.
"Hey, my old baby sitter works here now. I like to drop in on Stacy whenever I get the chance. She's the one who taught me how to throw a football."
"Really?" Kurt was filling out the form as fast he could. Maybe Finn didn't want to spend every second with Rachel, but sometimes when he went hours or days without seeing Blaine it felt like his heart hurt, felt like he was going to burst from the inside.
"Yeah really. Who was going to teach me? My dad?" Finn found Stacy amongst the other bank tellers and smiled at her. She, a twenty-eight year old, squealed at the sight of him.
Kurt leaned against the wall, check already deposited, as the two caught up. He sighed, looked at his watch. If he hadn't been so impatient, maybe he would have noticed the men in masks and guns come in before they blew out the cameras.
.***.
Finn couldn't believe that Stacy had two babies. He remembered her as a fifteen-year-old with too many brothers. It had been Stacy who had instilled in him a love of football, Stacy who had introduced four-year-old Finn to a Nerf ball, then a regulation-sized one. Stacy had shown him how to throw a spiral.
And he remembered Stacy's series of boyfriends, her prom, her decision to go to community college. He'd kept in touch, had been at her wedding. But he hadn't gotten to see either of the babies, twin boy and girl, since they were born.
"Wow," He muttered, staring at the picture, "It's so weird to think you're a mother."
"Really?" Stacy smiled, touched his hand. "I like to think I had a little part in mothering you."
"Look, Stace. Football's never going to make me rich and famous. But if it did, I would owe you, like, ten percent of what I made. You taught me how to throw a spiral. Remember?"
"Of course I remember. I've been meaning to go to one of your games. Think you'll make it to States this year?" She smiled at him, all big green eyes and freckles, and despite two babies and five years of marriage, she looked fifteen again, taking little Finn by the hand and laughing with him.
Then those green eyes went wide, and if life was a movie Finn would have seen the men with guns reflected in the orbs. Stacy ducked beneath the counter a second before a bullet would have hit her square between the eyes. She pressed the button that alerted the police. By the time they showed up, the robbers would already be gone. They were only in the bank for about a minute and a half. Amazing the destruction you can leave behind you in a minute and a half.
Finn turned just in time to see Kurt grabbed by the tallest masked man. Just in time to see a gun pressed to the side of his step-brother's head. "Hey!" He started forward, because he wasn't going to stand there to see Kurt's brains blow out. He stopped when another gun was pointed at him.
The third man looked over at the counter, at Stacy, who was poking her head up again. "If we don't have a million dollars in cash, this boy -" a thumb jerked at Kurt, who looked like he was try very hard not to cry, "will die. You have one minute."
"We can't even open the safe in one minute!" Another teller, not Stacy, exclaimed. Stacy was just racing towards the back.
"Fifty-five seconds."
"Kurt…" Finn locked eyes with Kurt and saw just how fucking scared the other boy was. He couldn't just stand here. He thought of Burt the year before. Where have you been, Finn? That was when Karofsky had threatened to kill Kurt. He couldn't do that again. He couldn't face Burt if he just stood by and watched Kurt die. He wouldn't be able to face himself.
"Take me instead!" Finn urged. There were other people there, in the bank. A guy in his twenties wearing jeans and flannel. A mother and her young daughter. A business man in a suit. But they were all cringing away from the other guns, which were being waved by the other two guys in masks. They stared at Finn. The guy in the jeans even reached up to grab his hand. "Don't be stupid kid."
The guy who'd pointed a gun at Stacy turned to Finn. "Thirty seconds."
"Please…" Finn clenched his fists, heart hammering in his ears. He heard scuffling behind him, prayed it was Stacy with money. What was a million dollars compared to Kurt's life? He would pay a hundred million to avoid seeing Kurt's brains and guts and life spread across his too-clean floor.
"Finn, shut up." Kurt pleaded. The guy who was holding a gun to his head hit him with it, and suddenly Kurt was on the floor and moaning in pain and there was blood and Finn didn't know what he was doing, he slid across the floor and put his arms around Kurt, holding him. Stacy was shouting something, someone else was shouting something, but Finn didn't hear. He couldn't focus on anything but the blood that had caught to his hand, that stuck to Kurt's hair.
So he didn't know that time was up. He didn't even have time to look up before the bullet pierced his skin.
His last thought was, my God, I hope they don't shoot Kurt.
.***.
"Finn? You waking up? Of course you are. Of course you chose to wake up in the half hour that your mom and Burt are gone. This is what my life is."
It felt like his whole body was on fire, but mostly his side. Like if someone poured molten lava on you, but concentrated it on one area. Your whole body would still feel hot, like it was melting, like you wanted to crawl out of your skin to get away from the hurt. Finn moaned.
"Water?" he croaked. He couldn't even open his eyes. Couldn't, wouldn't. But he was so thirsty.
Suddenly there was something pressing against his lips. A straw. Finn sucked gratefully, managed to open one eye. A hospital room. Of course he was in the hospital. Had he really been shot?
"Welcome back, man." Blaine said, setting the cup back down. "You're one of those people who like to make every day an adventure, huh?"
"No. I hate adventures." Finn found that talking hurt so he shut up after that and closed his eyes again. Maybe when he opened them his mom would be there, not the guy who was determined to steal all his solos. Why Blaine of all people?
"Your mom and Burt took Kurt home. I would have gone with them, of course, but Burt needed to drive and your mom wanted to stay with Kurt, who's totally and completely fine, by the way, and I wanted…I wanted to be here when you woke up." Blaine rubbed the back of his neck, not that Finn could see that. "I know you'd rather your family or Rachel or…anybody. But Kurt told me what you did, and I needed to say thank you."
"Nbd." Finn forced out, motioning for more water.
"No big deal? Finn, you took a bullet for Kurt. My boyfriend."
"My step-brother."
"Yeah. That's kind of a big deal." Blaine leaned back, happy that Finn's eyes were open. After the surgery to remove the bullet, the doctors had said that Finn would probably drift in and out of consciousness for the next twelve hours. He was happy to talk to him first. "I was so scared when I heard about the bank. When we heard you were inside. And then the hospital called…I thought Kurt had died."
"You care about him?" Finn asked, genuinely interested. After all Kurt, had had a crush on him before their parents had even started going out. After all, wasn't he supposed to be playing older brother now? Kick the crap out of people who were in relationships with his brother for the wrong reasons? After all, talking about this was easier that concentrating on the pain that threatened to eat him from the inside.
"I love him more than anything." Blaine said, so sure and confident that Finn envied him. "I'll follow Kurt anywhere. When I heard it was you who was hurt worse…"
"Must've been relieved." Finn murmured. It was so hard to keep awake. Like fighting against Nyquil or Benadryl. Knowing you should just succumb but fighting anyway.
"Relieved?" Blaine tilted his head, thinking. "About Kurt, of course. But then I had someone else to worry about." He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes not quite meeting Finn's. "I hope you don't mind, but we haven't told the rest of the glee club yet, and they won't know. The media can't release your names because you're minors. I just…you must be so tired. I didn't think you needed them in here."
"Thanks for that." Finn's eyes slipped. He was so tired…
"You're a hero, man." Blaine grabbed one of Finn's hands and just held it, a necessary connection between two people. "And I'm so grateful for what you did for Kurt."
Finn was tempted to say nbd again, because he couldn't work up the energy for much more than an acronym, but Blaine looked so sincere that he couldn't bring himself to blow him off. "You should be with Kurt."
"I'll stay here until you're asleep again. You shouldn't have to be alone."
Which is why Finn Hudson sank back into unconsciousness, one hand wrapped tight in the hand of Blaine Anderson.
.***.
Burt had fallen asleep in front of the football game, or else he probably wouldn't have heard Finn's scream first.
It had been a tight fit, but after some rearranging he'd managed to fix Finn up in a small room off the kitchen. There were some things that were too much to ask of even the most enlightened of people, and a teenage boy sharing a room with a gay teenage boy was one of them. Since the bank Burt had suggested once or twice that perhaps Finn wouldn't mind being in Kurt's room, for company's sake, but Finn was a big man of eighteen and refused outright. "I'll be fine," he'd said, smiling quickly. He still had bandages around his torso. The color had not completely returned to his cheeks. Fine. Right.
Now Burt found himself at the door of a boy who wasn't his son but had saved his son and so made him better than any blood. "Finn?" He said into the darkness. There was a snuffling sound, like a mewling kitten, like a pining dog. Not quite human. Too sad to possibly be human. He turned on the light.
Finn's feet were on the floor and he was doubled over, chin to knees, arms around his body to hold in the emotion. His head snapped up at the light and a look of such embarrassment ran across his face that Burt felt his heart melt. What a rotten age! Too old to feel he could rely on adults, too young to be able to deal with situations.
Although, when he thought about it, Burt was sure that no one would ever be old enough to deal with the things Finn had just had to deal with.
"Sorry for waking you," Finn passed a sleeve over his eyes, and again with that fake smile, a flash and then gone, as if a twitching of the lips could put everything to rights.
"Nightmare?"
"Yeah."
Kurt had been having nightmares. For the first night, Burt had allowed his son any companion he wished and it was Blaine who spent the night holding Kurt where a year ago it would have been Mercedes or his father. Burt would poke his head in and see the two of them, clutching each other desperately on the small bed, lovers who might have been separated by a tiny piece of lead.
But though it had been four days since the bank, two days since Finn left the hospital, Burt couldn't remember any sign of nightmares plaguing the quarterback , though that might have been the drugs that would knock Finn out cold every couple of hours.
He sat on the edge of the bed. "Want to talk about it?"
Finn shrugged, leaning on his elbows now. He wasn't looking at Burt. He was looking at the darkness beyond his bedroom, the place where the light stopped spilling into the hallway. "It's normal stuff, I guess. About getting shot." He let out a short laugh that wasn't a laugh at all but a sob in disguise. "Getting shot in a place I would have died from."
Burt let the silence settle for a moment, because there was more, because getting shot was no walk in the park but Finn hadn't been dreaming about that tonight. A father knows these things. "Sometimes it's other people. Kurt gets shot because I didn't speak up, because I just stood by and watched. Sometimes he's Rachel, or my mom, or Puck." Finn dug fingernails into forehead. "And I can't get them out of my head. And I can't save them."
Sometimes all it takes is a little human contact. Burt put an arm around Finn's shoulders and suddenly a face that was a mask of frustration suddenly melted and the tears came and Burt just held the almost-man and let them come, patted him on the back and let them come, knowing that afterwards Finn's side would hurt like crazy, knowing that afterwards they'd have to talk about things like therapy.
"I don't know how to thank you, Finn." Burt murmured, rubbing the teen's back. "I don't know if it's even appropriate. I wouldn't have asked you to do what you did. You're my son, too." The words were suddenly true for the first time. Yes, when it became clear that there would be a wedding he had tried to bond with Finn. Yes, for four people who didn't really know each other all that well, this living situation wasn't half bad. But there was still this line – Finn was Carol's boy, and Kurt was his. Now though…now he suspected that if only one of them had come out of that bank alive. Finn dead, Kurt dead, it would have been devastating either way. Equally devastating.
"Your father…" Finn's father, the hero. Finn's father, who neither person in the room had met, not really. Finn's father was suddenly in that room with them, taking up the small space in a way that wasn't suffocating but comforting. "I think it's something your father would have done. And he would have been so proud."
Finn finally looked up, breathing hard, blinking hard, staring straight at Burt.
"I'm proud of you too, Finn. I'm damn proud of you."
.***.
finn has been in all of these chapters. he's just...he's so writeable. everything he does is genuine, and if he messes up it's genuine. and he's always trying to do the right thing. that's all you can ask sometimes. btw: remember, if you want to see your favorite character maimed/banged up/bruised, just drop us a line. we'll try to make it happen.