15

Ready or Not

Kurt told the police everything he could about finding Blaine, Finn filling in details like what the room and the house looked like, before he collapsed in a chair in the waiting room, staring at nothing, crying silently. The tears trekked down his cheeks slowly, eventually soaking his face, so broken. His heart beat raggedly, memories flooding his mind, causing him that much more pain.

Burt could only watch, helpless to his son's pain, knowing what this was doing to him.

Please, he prayed harder than he ever had in his life. Please let Blaine be okay. Kurt already lost Elizabeth, don't make him lose Blaine too. That's too much, he...he's only seventeen years old! He can't do this again, please.

Kurt thought back to meeting Blaine for the first time. Holding his hand, laughing with him over dinner, speeding down the street on that motorcycle giggling like crazy into the night because they were together and that's all that mattered. Happy. For a fleeting moment they were both happy. And Kurt had no idea how miserable Blaine might have been. Had no idea that he may have went home to something awful that overshadowed those wonderful moments.

How could I be so stupid? I should've known who was hurting him. God, what is wrong with me?

He thought of his voice, his touch and his smile, the things that could always make him feel better. Now it's your turn, he thought. You be there for him through the rest of this mess. He deserves that at least.

If he makes it.

"Mr. Hummel?" A distant voice said, snapping both father and son out of their daze. Burt stood, facing the doctor.

"Is he okay?" He demanded, glancing at Kurt, who was hanging on every word.

"He's lost a lot of blood, hypothermia, two broken ribs, broken nose, fractured collarbone and serious bruising to his larynx," he listed. Kurt hiccuped on his breath, eyes squeezed shut. "Uh, there's deep bruising all over him, shallow cuts too, probably from a razor-" another nearly inaudible gasp from Kurt. "-and some minor burns."

"Shit," Burt breathed, shaking his head. "Is he going to be alright?"

"He'd be in better shape if he hadn't been moved in and out of an SUV three times," he said darkly. Finn glowered at him, glancing at his brother. "But he should be alright."

Kurt fell over his knees, sobbing, a weight lifting from his body. Finn knelt in front of him, whispering comforts.

"How long does he have to stay here?" He asked calmly.

"A few weeks. His ribs need to be healed up enough so they won't slip and possibly puncture a lung or cause any other internal bleeding and we need to keep a very close eye on his vitals for awhile," the doctor assured.

"When can we see him?" Kurt squeaked.

"I'm sorry, but only immediate family-"

"His family is the whole reason he's in here, pal. Or were you too busy to bother learning the kid's story before you came out here on your high-horse?" Burt growled, knowing he was out of line but really not giving a damn. Not when his son was hurting like this.

"We'll let you know when you can see him."

Kurt continued to cry, wrung out and weary, his heart thudding painfully.

"He's gonna be okay, Kurt," Finn said gently, hand on his shoulder. "He's gonna be just fine, just like the doctor said, okay?" Kurt nodded, sniffling.

"I need to see him," he whispered. "I need to hear him talk and hold his hand. I need to know for myself that he's alright."

"You will soon," he nodded. "You'll be the first person in there, Burt'll make sure of it."

"He's so scared, Finn," he breathed. "What if he needs me right now and I'm not there?"

"You'll see him soon, it's alright. It'll be okay." He didn't know what else to say. What else he could say about it? Kurt gripped his hand, squeezing hard, needing something to ground him there.

"Can you just stay here with me, Finn?" He whispered. "Don't talk, just sit with me."

Finn obliged, staying at his knelt spot in front of him, just trying to be there for his brother. "It'll be alright."

His heartbeat kept in time with his thoughts, just one word again and again. Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, Blaine... Distantly, he felt his father sit beside him, an echo of a hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly.

"It's gonna be okay, buddy." Such a vague voice. One that felt so far away, like a radio playing in another room. His temples and heart pounded out that word, in such a horrible place, only able to imagine what Blaine could have gone through.

Hours. It took hours of muddled consciousness, doctors and machines, needles, bandages, tubes, beeping before they finally let him rest. He demanded to see Kurt for a moment before they put something in his IV, medicine that caused his pain to vanish and took his consciousness away. He tried to say Kurt's name, tried to find him in the blur of faces before it pulled him under.

He relived every second.

"No! No, please, no more. Help me! D-Dad, please, don't! No more, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He thrashed and tore at the bindings on his wrists, screaming past the awful chain, more slicing.

"You do this to yourself already, I'm just finishing the job! You useless waste of space!"

"Nohoh, God, plehease! PLEASE! Help me, help me! MOM! Mom, please, please help! Don't let him do this to me!"

"You think crying for your mommy is gonna help you?" A fist in his curls, yanking his face up. "You think this hurts, I'll show you hurt!"

He was torn away from his bed, the chain yanking so hard he was thrown off of his bed to the floor.

"Mohom," he whimpered, looking up at to her, drenched in blood. "Mom, please, stop him. Don't let him hurt-" a hard steel-toed boot collided with his ribs, knocking him down.

"WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO TO SHUT YOU UP, FAGGOT?"

When he woke again his throat was on fire, body aching and heavy. His face felt swollen and puffy, joints stiff. The light around him was dim, the shades dark. Night.

"Kurt?" He breathed, trying to find his way through the fog and white dots speckled through his vision. Something squeezed his hand to his right, something soft, comforting and mildly desperate all at once. He turned, meeting watery, red-rimmed eyes that weren't really looking at him. "Kurt," he sighed.

"Shh...talk softly, baby," he advised, touching his cheek, stroking gently. "It's alright now. You're safe."

"How-how long have I...?"

"Four days," he breathed, squeezing his hand again. "I didn't know if...if you were going to..." He kissed his fingers, still holding his face to see his expressions.

"I was j-just tired," he chuckled, trying to make him smile

"Don't do that," Kurt hissed, begging. "Don't do that. I'm not gonna let you hide from this, Blaine. You'll only use it to hurt yourself later."

"What do you want me to do?" He breathed, tears welling in his eyes. "You want me to tell you what he did to me?"

"No, baby-"

"Do you want me to tell you how afraid I was? How I screamed for you while he cut me up? Is that what you want me to tell you? How I cried, and cried and begged only to get hurt worse again and again? Or that when your dad hugged me I pretended just for a second that he was my dad because I've never had parents that actually wanted me? That never loved me? What do you want me to say, Kurt?" He sobbed.

"Shh, shh, hey..." Kurt said, gingerly gathering him in his arms, too tired to hide his own tears. "No, no, I just wanted...God, Blaine, I'm so sorry."

"Thank you for saving me," he breathed, tone even softer than before. "I love you."

"I love you too." He kissed him gingerly, minding his split lip. He stroked his hair, holding him, touching him carefully.

"How long have you been here?" He rasped, injured.

"I haven't left since you got here," he said, smiling softly. "Dad's asked me to go home a few times, but I couldn't just leave you here, baby. What if you woke up and there was no one here for you?" He kissed his forehead. Blaine sniffed, eyes closed.

"Did you mean it? Did your dad mean it, that I don't have to go back? That I can stay with you?" He whispered.

"Of course, of course you can," he nodded. "We did mean it, baby. You're not going back there and we're not going to let some social worker take you away and shove you in some group home until you're eighteen. We won't let that happen, I promise. We'll keep you safe, baby."

"Thank you, thank you," he breathed, sobbing, so broken.

"Blaine!"

They both turned, Kurt's hands still holding him as tightly as possible.

"Blaine, sweetie, thank god," she laughed. Kurt frowned, feeling his love tremble under his grip, shaking his head.

"Mom," he whispered. Kurt's eyes grew.

"No," he said firmly, positioning himself in front of him, shielding him from her. "No, get out! How did you get in here? Leave!"

"This is my son!" She snapped, taking another step inside. "It's your fault this even happened to him. He never would have done this if-"

"Mom, stop!" Blaine begged, still shaking. "Just go, leave, get out! Please..."

His mother looked the boy standing in front of her up and down, looking at him curiously. "My god are...are you blind?"

"Mom, leave!" He screamed, crying, still holding onto Kurt.

"Get out before I get the police down the hall," he demanded. "I don't know how you got in here, but get out!"

"I have a right to see my son!"

"YOU LOST THAT RIGHT WHEN YOU LET THAT MAN TORTURE HIM!" He bellowed.

"Kurt!" A voice calling down the hall. "Kurt!"

He stayed where he was, knowing she was still in the doorway, looking at him as if he were some anomaly.

"Blaine-"

"HEY!" Burt appeared behind her, startling her. Blaine shut his eyes, head falling back on the pillow, shuddering. Kurt fell back into his seat, easing Blaine to him, allowing him to hide his face in his chest. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Blaine's mother and-"

"Get out," he spat immediately. "Get the hell out of here and don't you dare come back. How dare you come anywhere near him, or my son..." He grabbed her shoulder, guiding her out of the room and taking her away from the couple.

"Shh, hey, hey, it's alright. Shh, I've got you Blaine. It's alright. She won't come back."

"I want to go back to sleep," he moaned. "Can-can I go back to sleep, please? Please, please, can I go to sleep, Kurt?" He felt so small, so fragile in his arms. Child-like.

"Of course, of course you can. Shh...just close your eyes. I've got you, shut your eyes. Shh..." Everything else could wait. Nothing mattered but keeping Blaine comfortable. He rocked him slowly, fingers in his hair. He closed his eyes. "Blackbird singing in the dead of night take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life you were only waiting for this moment to arise..."

Blaine kept his face hidden in Kurt's neck, sniffling, nuzzling, soothed by Kurt's song. "God, Kurt, I've been looking for you forever..." Drug-induced babble, yes, but he meant it. Kurt smiled through his tears, kissing his temple.

"Blackbird, fly, into the light of the dark black night..."