AN: Sorry it's been so long between updates we made a budgetary decision to nix cable and internet at the house until we find something cheaper thus I have to actually go somewhere public to post!

Chapter Five

Kurt must have fallen asleep at some point; the Sikh had left after the treatment. As he slowly woke from his dreams, he glanced up at all the machines, only to realize nothing had changed. He felt an overwhelming feeling of suffocation, he was in this nightmare, he had to be. Standing he grabbed his coat and hurried out the hospital door, with barely a glance over his shoulder.

It was well after midnight, the sound of the windshield wipers hitting the window drowned out the sound of the rain until Kurt turned his car off. Stepping out of the car, he felt the tears already starting to fall. He was exhausted, and they'd kicked him out of the hospital. He was supposed to be headed home...but home felt too empty. He didn't want to go to an empty house.

He made his way slowly to the gravesite. He knew by heart where it was, just over a grassy hill. He looked down at the grave stone.

Angela Cherie Hummel
Beloved Mother and Wife
1967-2002

"Hi," Kurt whispered. He knelt before the block of stone, disregarding the state of his pants "It's been awhile. Gaga knows I'm probably not the world's best son right now. I'd like to say I've been busy—and I have been—but that's not much of an excuse. Um...I...Dad had a heart attack." He closed his eyes, hating himself for being able to admit that. "Mom...I know you believe in Heaven, and I desperately hope for your sake that's where you've been the past eight and a half years. I think I'm having a crisis of faith, Mom. I really wish you were here. You were always so good at this stuff. I'm so scared. So very scared Mom. I don't want to be alone—never minding the idea of being an orphan." He'd always felt alone though, for as long as he could remember, maybe not around his father, but he'd never felt like he really belonged anywhere.

A ghost like figure stood behind him, kneeling down she gripped his shoulders gently, hoping perhaps she could give him the little sense of comfort he was looking for. "I'm here son," she whispered.

"I feel you. Am I dying?" He looked up at her, he felt a little crazy, as if he shouldn't be seeing her.

Coming around him, she knelt in front of him, in front of her own grave stone, and brushed the hair from his hands. "No, baby you're not dying. You're very alive."

"Why do I still feel so lost?" he studied the figure in a desperation to memorize every detail.

Angie shook her head. "Kurt baby, I can't answer that, only you can. I think you need to give yourself a break though. You've faced some really tough situations. Kurt, your biggest problem growing up was you wanted to be in control at all times, and the truth is that's not possible."

"Did you see Dad?"

She smiled. "He looks good. Listen to me sweetheart because I can't stay long. Your life isn't going to be perfect, and you won't be able to constantly control it. Instead try enjoying it, baby. Really relax now and then. Wear poly-cotton blends, it's okay." Kurt gave a visible shudder.

"You're not asking me to dress more like dad...are you? Because I tried that once, and it did not work out."

Her chuckle soothed his nerves. "Heavens no, you'll never be Burt. That's why we love you. Be yourself and just remember that sometimes it's okay to relax and let loose too."

"I miss you. I feel so alone."

"Hummel," a voice called behind him. Kurt turned to see Puck standing behind him, leather jacket pulled tight around his shoulders. "What on Earth is wrong with you, dude, it's freezing out here."

"Don't call me dude," Kurt shot back, his heart not really in it. He was surprised when he felt a hand on his shoulder, but not a violent one. Puck's hand felt like he cared. "Why are you here, Puck?" Kurt looked up at him, water dripping off both of them from the rain.

"Because you need a friend even if you don't think so. Come on, let me take you back to my place. My mom has a bowl of soup with your name on it."

For a brief moment, Kurt considered putting up a fight, but he found that he couldn't do it. He couldn't fight anymore. With a nod, Puck helped him up and into the car, and Puck drove away. "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"Where to find me?"

Puck half shrugged, "I saw you one year, at your mom's grave site when I was with my mom visiting my grandma. I guess that image always sorta stuck with me, knowing we were both hurting. We weren't really friends anymore, so I didn't think you wanted me to come over at that point. But, I get it, Kurt."

They arrived back at Puck's house, hopping out the headed inside, where Sarah stood, "Really?" She questioned looking at the drenched teens. "You went out to get him and you didn't think to get an umbrella?"

"It's in my truck."

"It didn't do you much good there, did it Noah." She shook her head and ushered them in. "Honestly, sometimes. Kurt why don't you go downstairs and grab a shower. I made you some soup, it's on the stove, help yourself."

Kurt imagined his father would be frantic by now, searching all over the house for him. That was if he even noticed that his son had gone missing. Meanwhile, Kurt sat in front of the house, at the edge of the driveway coloring a recent picture of The Little Mermaid mommy had bought him last week. He'd hurried out of the house after daddy had snapped at him over interrupting him while the game was on.

He'd headed all the way down the driveway and had just been about to cross the street when he recalled both Mommy and Daddy threatening to take away his pretty princess ballerina slippers if he crossed the street without them. So plopping down at the end of the skirt, he ate his little bag of cheerios and colored while he waited for Daddy to find him.

"Kurtis Franklin Hummel!" the shout alone was enough to cause Kurt to jump, the hands that grabbed him from under his arms and yanked him from the ground—cheerios and all—frightened Kurt as he was turned around and faced with the very angry face of Daddy. "What do you think you're doing!" Burt snapped, unable to stop the slight tremor in his voice and the demanding shake in his arms. He was careful, however, was a four year old too old to have shaken baby syndrome.

Kurt jutted out his chin defiantly, "I'm running away!" he garbled trying to sound highly determined.

"Didn't get very far!" Daddy replied. Kurt somehow imagined his Mommy snapping at Daddy for that line. "And just where were you headed?"

Kurt felt upset, and ashamed that he hadn't gotten far, "All the way to town! But I'm not 'llowed to cross the street." When daddy started laughing at him, Kurt became agitated and began to struggle away from his father. Clearly he hadn't learned his lesson. "Lemme go!" he shouted.

"Quit it," Daddy said sharply, giving Kurt a none too gentle swat to the bottom. Burt was all too aware that those baby blues were beginning to well with tears of frustration and anger. They needed a time out. "Kurt, I want you to go to your room, no TV, no video games, no computer, and I don't want you to try any of Mommy's shoes on either. You'll go sit on your bed, and I'll come talk to you when I've decided a suitable punishment."

Tears begin to leak from Kurt's eyes, "Don't be mad!" he cried, "I only ran'd to here...I swear."

"Kurt, it's not the distance. It's the principal of the thing."

"What?"

"It's the fact that you tried to run away, kiddo, not how far you went. You're a little guy still, and there are big things out there that can hurt you. What would've happened if you hadn't stopped at the driveway and you got lost?"

"I'd wait till you found me," Kurt replied logically, it had never dawned on him that Daddy wouldn't have come for him, wouldn't have found him.

Burt sighed and set him down. "Kurt, go to your room. Now."

Kurt gave his daddy one last glare before turning around and heading to his room. He hid there for what felt like an eternity until he heard a light knock on his door. Adjusting his emotions, turned away from the door and acted as if he wasn't paying attention as the door opened. "Hey, kiddo," Daddy greeted.

Kurt didn't reply immediately, instead he crossed his arms and stared at his pillow shams. "Kurt, please turn around."

"No."

"I'm sorry," Daddy's voice however didn't indicate sorrow, rather it seemed to have a hint of anger in it. "Kurt, I asked you to turn around. And if you'd like to come away from his without punishment, I suggest you do what I just asked."

Kurt felt a slight hesitation of fear, but gathered his resolve. "No."

"Right, okay then," without another word, Daddy left the room. Kurt turned around and stared at the door, sure that he had won. Until suddenly the door opened again and his father walked in with a very large suitcase.

"What all did you want to take?" Daddy asked as he walked over to the dresser, "Obviously some pajamas, oh and you need your toothbrush, and all your other show items, why don't you go get those while I pack up your clothes."

"What are you doing?"

Daddy looked up at him with a smile, "I'm helping you pack, that's what you want isn't it. To leave, you wanted to run away. I'm just helping you. I think you'll want to take your Power Ranger shoes in addition to your sensible black heels, those'll get worn down after awhile. Oh and you'll probably need a job so you can buy all those pretty clothes you like."

"Daddy," Kurt began, his lower lip shaking as he watched his daddy pack up everything he had. "Daddy, stop."

The man paused studying his son, "Why? I thought this is what you wanted. Mom and me will support you Kurt, but you're right if you aren't happy here then you should definitely go away.

"I..." Kurt looked down as he watched his daddy put everything in the suitcase and opened it up, for a moment, Kurt considered taking it and leaving the house. "You won't come get me?"

"Nope, you're on your own, kiddo. You'll have to leave Mr. Bugsy here though; adults don't usually have stuffed toys. And you'll want to let your teachers know that you won't be returning to school."

Kurt's eyes grew damp and wide. "Daddy, are you mad?"

"Why would I be mad, Kurt?"

"Cause...cause I'm bad."

Burt looked down at his child for a long moment, before he flipped the suitcase back open and put the majority of Kurt's stuff back. He then pushed the bag out of the way so he could sit next to his son. "Do you remember when you got lost at the mall last year?"

Kurt looked down at his hands, "Uh huh."

"So you remember that fear right, how frightened you felt that mommy and daddy weren't there anymore?"

"Yeah."

"Imagine how we felt. The horror that our little boy had wandered off and we didn't know where. We felt like terrible parents. But that is only a little of how I felt this afternoon, Kurt."

"So you aren't mad?"

The laugh was enough for Kurt to know that wasn't true. "Oh no, I'm furious. But I think you have the right to know that I'm not upset with you as the person, but your actions."

Kurt studied his father, confusion clearly written on his face because after a moment, Daddy reached out and lifted him into his lap. Kurt considered struggling, the lingering effects of his frustration wanting to take over, but instead he allowed the contact, he allowed his Daddy to pull him close and hug him. "Do you remember when you decided to draw on Mommy's wall last month?"

"Uh huh."

"And do you remember how Mommy took the crayons away?"

Kurt nodded. "Your action was creating your art on the wall without asking. It was something you did, maybe not the smartest thing, but it was just something you did either without knowing better or because it seemed okay. It was an action."

"So...when you yell at the TV that's an action?" Daddy nodded grinning from ear to ear, until his son replied again. "Oh...Daddy I don't like your actions very much."

Daddy laughed. "God you are such a brat," he joked hugging him close. "Kurt, listen to me baby." He sighed pressing his forehead to his beautiful boy's forehead. "What you did today, the action of leaving the house and worrying me, was bad. I didn't like that very much. It scared Daddy. But I still love Kurt. I still love you."

"Why was it scary?"

"Well...Why don't you touch the stove?"

"Cause Mommy said it'll hurt me if I touch the blue fire."

"Right, so you understand pain?"

"Member Daddy, I fell off the coffee table!"

"Well, that's the same reason you can't go into the street, because it would hurt if you got hit by a car. It would hurt Mommy and me if you disappeared and didn't come back because you were confused and lost."

"I don't want to make you and Mommy hurt."

"That's right you don't, just like we don't ever want to hurt you."

"Daddy?" He asked. He heard his father hum lightly to prompt him further. "Sometimes it hurts me when you ignore me over those sports things on the TV."

Daddy smiled, "I'll try to pay more attention to you during the games, if you try to remember Daddy needs alone time too."

"Like when Mommy takes her long baths."

"Just like that."

"I'm glad we had this talk," Kurt's giggled echoed through the house as Burt attacked all his ticklish spots.

Kurt returned to the present as the water grew chilly. He shut off the shower and stepped out, feeling a little better. Kurt returned to the kitchen, there was a bowl of Sarah's secret hot soup on the table and a spoon. "Kurt, I know time changes things, but I want to help you."

He looked at both of them. "I'm okay, really—"

"Kurt, you're going to stay with us. It doesn't matter if you'd rather stay here or have Noah stay at your place, but you'll have someone with you until your father is awake." Sarah Puckerman agreed.

"I don't need a babysitter," Kurt rounded on her.

Sarah nodded. "No, you don't, but you're a seventeen-year-old teenager whose father is laid up in the hospital, showing no signs of waking up. Kurt, my son is one of the strongest kids I know, and I'd damn well be pissed as hell if someone didn't care for him. Burt loves you and he'd be furious to know that you're doing this on your own."

Kurt looked at her, his eyes burning with sadness at the truth behind her words. "I..." He took a very shaky sigh. "I'd really appreciate that." He was beginning to realize that some of his suffering was caused only by himself. Carole had offered for him to stay, but Kurt had simply lied to her about not wanting to impose and that Mercedes had already offered him a place to stay. It was his fault he was all alone, normally he liked it that way.

Kurt wasn't even aware of the tears sliding down his cheeks at this point. He just stared down at the coffin. Something about his mother being in a coma for the past year-and-a-half had been far too easy. Now it began to sink in that Mommy wasn't coming back. It was a small funeral, close family and friends. Burt hadn't wanted to deal with much more than that.

Kurt closed his eyes, more tears escaping at the thought of never seeing Mommy again. Even seeing her in the hospital had been better than knowing she was gone now forever. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and looked up at his father. His lower lip trembled as he saw his Daddy was crying too.

Burt gave him a tight smile before holding his hand out. As if on cue, Kurt gripped the hand for all it was worth, feeling completely lost without his Mommy suddenly. Burt seemed to have sensed his son's desperation, reaching down he lifted Kurt under his arms, and sat him against his hip.

Kurt instantly wrapped his arms around his father's shoulders and pressed his cheek into Burt's neck. He couldn't stop the sobs as they began to hitch from his small body. The other mourners seemed to cry harder at the sight of the lost little boy. Burt gave a brief nod, before deciding this was all his child could take. The service was over anyway, they were going to bury her now. He rubbed his son's back and carried him away from the grave. "I know Kurt," he whispered, his own heart breaking as he slid into the car with his son, clutching him close.

The door remained open until Angie's mother and father slid inside as well. "Want me to take him?" Angie's mother offered. She didn't expect Burt to say yes, so she wasn't surprised when he shook his head and gripped the grieving child closer.

"She's always going to be watching you, baby," Burt whispered. He pressed a kiss to his son's forehead and closed his eyes, taking in the scent of his child.

After a few moments the boy had cried himself dry. He sat in his father's arms almost limply curled against his chest. "Don't leave me," he whimpered.

Burt's own eyes began to water as he shook his head. "Never baby, not by choice," he closed his eyes and cried, holding his son close. He felt Angie's mother, Claire move over and hold them both, letting both the Hummel's cry.