A massive thank you to all of you who reviewed, favourite and followed this story. Like I said, it's a little different to things I've written before so I was a little nervous about it. This is actually only half of the originally intended Chapter 2 but I cut it off at the halfway point otherwise it would have gone on forever. So if you like this chapter, I'll post the next (half) up asap because it's very nearly finished. I hope it's up to expectations.
Burt yawned a little sleepily as he made the final adjustments to the paperwork for tomorrow's customer's Ford Fiat. It had been an early start; he had been awake and out before Kurt even got up to complete his early morning moisturising routine, and that was saying something. With the garage across the road closing down, he had recently had a major influx in the number of customers requiring his services, and as such, this meant more work and less sleep. Both Kurt and Carole had expressed their anxieties over him working too hard of late, but as he said, he could not really turn down the work if it was offered. He and Kurt as a family before Carole and Finn moved in were not exactly poor, but then they were not rolling in money either. If he was paid to do the work and provide a better life for Kurt and Finn to get them out of 'this cow-town' as Kurt deemed it, then he certainly would. Unfortunately, that meant less time spent with Kurt and the two additions to his family, but Burt knew it would be worth it in the end. Besides, he would not complain today because it was Friday. That meant the Hummel tradition of a Friday Night Dinner, which was being cooked by Kurt tonight, at his insistence. Burt had only a few things in a week that he really enjoyed and his annual Friday Night Dinner with his family was one of them. Carole had told him that no matter what, it was Finn's task to do the washing that night, but afterwards, it would be designated family time. For one night a week, they would sit at the table as a family unit, eating a meal and making conversation even if the atmosphere was still awkward for some of them. Finn seemed to be taking a bit of time to settle in, but Kurt had assured Burt that he would fit in eventually, and that he did not mind the occasional cautious glances and offhandedly rude comments. Burt had to admit that Finn was a good kid – he just was not used to sharing his mother.
Biting back another yawn, Burt signed off on the final piece of paperwork, and consulted his watch. It was almost nine o'clock and he was quite hungry. Breakfast had seemed like such a long time ago, especially since he had barely been awake at the time to appreciate it. He had a feeling he had gulped down two pieces of slightly charred toast, but his brain was still slightly foggy. He was just considering moving over to the filing cabinet in which he kept emergency supplies of energy snacks for late nights, when his mobile let out a loud ring. Wondering who could possibly be ringing him at this time, he fumbled in the pockets of his oily overalls for the device, retrieved and answered it.
"Burt Hummel speaking." He stated, thinking that perhaps it would be an emergency call from some businessman or rather who needed quick work doing on their car before an afternoon meeting.
"Burt, it's me."
"Carole?" Burt asked, slightly albeit pleasantly surprised to hear the voice of his partner. Then he frowned, hearing a slight hitch in her voice, which he had only ever heard her use when she was upset or worried. "Don't get me wrong – it's nice to hear your voice, but you don't usually call me this early in the day. Is everything okay?"
He heard her voice catch, almost as if she was letting out an extra long, shuddering breath, "Not really, no."
She had Burt's full attention now, and his frown deepened. Although he had checked his watch only a matter of seconds ago, he repeated the action subconsciously as he remembered she should have been working her morning shift at this moment in time. "What's wrong?" he asked quickly, his heart pounding already at the thought that something was not right. "Are you okay? Are you on your shift?"
"No," Carole replied in a scarily subdued tone. "No… my shift was cancelled… that is… I asked for my shift to be taken by someone else."
"What?" Burt asked worriedly, his heart still hammering inside his chest. What had happened to make his partner like this? She sounded like she might burst into tears at any moment. "Why? What's happened? Are you sick?"
Carole cleared her throat at the other end of the line, "No… no I'm not sick. I'm fine… well… maybe not fine, but I'm okay."
"Honey, you're not making much sense." He said gently, but patiently. He had only ever heard her sound so upset once, and that was after she recounted the details of her husband's death to him. She was a wonderful, kind, sensitive woman, and he would wait patiently until she was ready to speak.
He heard Carole take a deep breath: "As I was passing the park on my way to work, there was a person lying inside the park gates. He… he seemed to just be unconscious and at first I thought he might have just been… well… a bum sleeping off a hangover… but it wasn't." As she recounted her story, Burt's frown deepened, sensing where this was going. He did not tolerate violence on any scale and of course would be perturbed by it, but he could not see how it had caused such a strange reaction in Carole. As a nurse, she saw all kinds of injuries at the hospital. "It was a boy… a fifteen year old boy," Carole continued, and it sounded as if she was fighting the urge to cry again. "And he'd been… attacked very badly. So I paged an ambulance, left my car by the curb and went with him to the hospital. I've just been waiting to find out how he is and… god Burt," she breathed. "He was just so… scared… and young…"
"Do you need me to pick you up and take you home honey?" Burt asked gently, already looking around for the keys on his untidily-kept desk. "Is that why you're calling?"
He heard her quickly compose herself as she cleared her throat pointedly, "No… no," she said firmly, sounding a little stronger. "That's not why I'm calling." He listened to her take another deep breath before saying, "He… the boy… I asked him if he had any family or friends he wanted me to call and he… he just got even more worked up… eventually he just crying over and over again that he wanted…" She broke off suddenly.
Burt waited for a second before prompting her slowly, "He wanted what?"
He heard an audible sigh before he said quietly, "Kurt. He kept saying that he wanted Kurt."
Burt froze, utterly perplexed, and unable to say anything for a moment before he came to his senses, "Kurt?" He repeated, feeling slightly sick at the thought of his little boy in any way connected to this tragedy. "As in… my Kurt?"
"And you." Carole added, sounding subdued again, and almost like she had a rather bad head cold. "He said your name too. Kurt… and Burt Hummel."
Confusion was added to Burt's mixture of emotions, as he focused on trying to remember any fifteen-year-old boys he indirectly might or might not know. He was quite certain that there were not many, especially since they had asked for Kurt first. Perhaps he was one of Kurt's friends, but he was not convinced of this both because the boy was apparently younger than his son and Kurt seemed to interact with people in his year group. Also, he was quite sure that most of Kurt's friends were girls.
"Is he one of Kurt's friends?" he asked eventually, at a loss as to who this mysterious boy could be.
"I… I don't know. He just said that his name was Blaine. I couldn't get a surname out of him – he was too scared, and in a lot of pain and…"
Burt was aware of his partner continuing to speak but after she uttered the name 'Blaine', he stopped listening. In fact, he was pretty sure that his heart had stopped beating altogether. Initially the word just revolved and echoed around his head for a few seconds and then his mind reacted. Memories and images flashed through his head all at once of a small, smart, bright, seemingly confident little boy with long, dark curly hair sleekly gelled back, amber eyes and a sweet, winning smile. He recalled flashbacks of him and Kurt playing happily together in the back garden, marrying and divorcing their Barbie and Power Ranger dolls goodness knows how many times; he remembered a boy who caused his son to smile in a way that no one else ever had as he enthusiastically encouraged and applauded Kurt's one-man shows. Burt remembered how after a time these turned into two-man shows. His mind glazed over images of Kurt and Blaine snuggled together under a woollen blanket, on his living room sofa, fast asleep in front of the fire; pictures of Blaine sporting a nose bleed after he bravely defended Kurt from school bullies. And then the final picture: a less than confident little boy with terrified eyes and a gaping head wound, begging him not to make a phone call which in all likelihood changed his life for the worse. He would never forget the sight of little Blaine being dragged from the Hummel household by the hair, his father yelling abuse all the while… and all Burt could do was stand there and do nothing. The biggest regret of his life: not going after the boy who he always regarded as his other son.
He was suddenly aware the Carole had finished talking and was saying his name repeatedly and apparently concernedly. "Burt?"
It took a while for Burt to find his voice. When he did, he croaked mildly, "Blaine? You've… you've found Blaine?"
"Burt, who is Blaine?"
And then it hit him. He made the connection between that sweet little kid and the fifteen-year-old boy currently lying scared and battered in a hospital bed. Oh God. What had happened to him? He did not think he would ever forgive himself if anything had happened to that boy. Burt amended in his mind that something already had happened, but he knew that he would hate himself forever more if the poor boy suffered seriously from this. It took a lot of comprehending to realise that firstly, Blaine had been found in Lima after all these years, and secondly, that he was now injured in the hospital. Finally putting his brain into gear, Burt swiftly grabbed his keys and began running to the shutters to close up shop.
"I'm on my way to the hospital now." He told Carole firmly.
"Burt, who is Blaine?" Carole repeated again, clearly becoming quickly confused and frustrated with his vagueness.
"I'm sorry honey," Burt apologised quickly as he locked up and jogged to his truck which was parked just outside. "I'll explain when I get to the hospital. I'll be with you in about fifteen minutes." He promised.
With that, he disconnected the call, returned his phone to his overalls, not caring that he was getting oil on the car seat, and switched the car engine on. Within minutes he was on the road to the hospital.
"So I know that neither of our families are really religious and all," Kurt enthused to his soon-to-be stepbrother, who rather looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but stuck in a car with the other boy. "But I was thinking that having the wedding take place in that small, moderate church up near Breadstix might be the answer. It wouldn't be too obvious but my dad and Carole would still get the traditional wedding they wanted, and Carole could still be the blushing bride in white."
Finn frowned, but kept his eyes on the road because he knew that if he started having a go at the other boy now, they would never get to school on time and they had already spent a considerable amount of precious time spent in traffic. Finn already found it uncomfortable enough sitting in a car with Kurt, perhaps the most flamboyant gay out there, and whom he knew had had a crush on him some months ago. Whether or not this was still going on… well… he really hoped it was not because living with him, and going to school with him would just be plain awkward. He had been sure that he had nailed into Kurt's mind the fact that he was unequivocally, and always would be straight, yet sometimes he still had doubts. His mom and Burt's wedding, which he did not entirely approve of because they had only known each other for about a year, and he could not entirely face the thought of Carole being with anyone else other than his dad, even though he had died long ago; this seemed to only enhance Kurt's flamboyant qualities. The other boy seemed insanely enthusiastic about the wedding and had taken on the role of wedding planner since Burt had become so busy at the garage and Carole worked long hours at the hospital. Unfortunately, this made Kurt seem to follow him around all the time, chatting to him about venues, dress attire and the colour of Carole's wedding dress. It only added to Finn's chagrin that Kurt would approach him sometimes in front of his jock friends, who would sneer and laugh. He was used to being one of the popular kids – a jock and the quarterback on the football team which was as far up the social ladder as you could go. The whole issue of being forced to join the McKinley High glee club, which he actually enjoyed although he would never admit it to anyone other than his girlfriend Rachel, and the club director, Mr Will Schuester, took him down several rungs on that social ladder. He did not need Kurt dragging him down anymore.
It frustrated him even more that he never knew which side to pick. The trouble was that Kurt was never content to just accept the high school norm; he had to stir the pot. He would proudly wear insanely mismatching clothes and deem them 'fashion for all genders', even though Finn could have sworn he saw a girl wearing the same brand of sweater the day before, and he would practically dance around the corridors with the other girls in glee club. Naturally, because they were living in Ohio, and attending public High School, Kurt was bullied like hell for it and since Finn was a popular jock but also the male lead in glee club and Kurt's... family, he supposed, he could not really choose which side to take. Ultimately, he chose to remain passive. If he saw one of the football team 'slushy' Kurt, a popular form of punishment at McKinley for being at the bottom of that all important social ladder, he would look away and walk in the opposite direction before anyone saw him, because he would never bully Kurt himself. He could be flamboyant and flirty, but Finn had to admit that there were people worse than Kurt that he could have for a future stepbrother, and at times, he could be really quite sweet. Now however, after sitting in the car for an hour with the boy, Finn was just plain annoyed.
"Dude, that's my mom you're talking about being a 'blushing bride'." He said edgily.
"I know – but with girls and weddings, that's what they want to be. The dress is everything. They don't just throw on some tux like you or dad." Kurt shrugged, trying to eke a smile out of the other boy but apparently he was not going to get anywhere with that so he just sighed, "I can show you my portfolio of designs later. She's going to look simply spectacular."
Finn said nothing, but kept his eyes on the road, regretting offering Kurt a lift to school. Thankfully they were almost there now, because he did not think he could take much more of this wedding talk. A small silence stretched out and he was about to sigh in relief when Kurt asked a question which knocked him right off-kilter:
"What do you think about glee club providing the music?" the other boy asked brightly.
"Wait… what?" Finn spluttered in response.
"Yeah," Kurt said, clasping his hands in his lap as he always did when he was pondering and developing an idea in his head. "It could be a glee wedding."
"I… I don't know dude," Finn muttered, pleased as they finally pulled into the McKinley parking lot. "Whatever." He quickly parked in the first space he found, switched the ignition off and climbed out of the car. He waited for Kurt to do the same, closing the door behind him, before he locked it and began walking towards the entrance. This was where they usually parted into their different factions – he either with Rachel, or the football team, and Kurt either by himself, or with Mercedes and Tina, probably his only two friends. As they split off to enter two different parts of the school, Kurt called to him:
"Thanks again for the lift! See you at glee after school."
Finn just grunted a 'Yeah man' before leaving the other boy to his own devices.
Kurt stood still for a moment, his hand clutched around his leather shoulder bag, watching his soon-to-be stepbrother disappear into the crowd. Now that he was left alone, he removed the bright smile and false façade he so often put on for his family and friends, and sighed heavily. It had been blatantly obvious that Finn did not want to discuss a single thing about the wedding, and it was even more obvious that the taller boy simply did not want to spend any time with him at all. Kurt supposed he should be grateful for Finn treating him vaguely like a human being, which was more than the other jocks did, but it still hurt when the football team threw a slushy in his face, and the boy turned around and pretended not to have noticed. Kurt did not let on that he was aware that Finn knew about the bullying, because he did not want to cause any tension with their new family, and his dad and Carole seemed so happy. Carole was a lovely woman, and although Kurt missed his own mother terribly, and had done since she died when he was just eight years old, he deemed her a worthy match for his dad. Burt was his rock; they had both been through so much together over the last few years, and initially, Kurt had been nervous to come out to his dad. However, when Burt told him casually that he had always known because all Kurt wanted when he was three years old was a pair of sensible heels, he realised that there had been nothing to worry about. They were completely different, but Kurt loved his father so much. He had seen truly awful fathers – one in particular who he tried to forget everyday, and he considered Burt to be one in a million. So Kurt had been happy when his dad and Carole announced that they were going to be married, and he had readily volunteered to be wedding planner. He wanted to help them both out but mainly Kurt took the job to give him something to do other than focus on the intense loneliness and emptiness he constantly felt. It had been that way for six years, and he did not think it would ever get better. He had just learned to live with it.
Even before 'coming out', Kurt had been bullied constantly from pre-school all the way to high school. When he really came out however, things got a hundred times worse. Apparently most people had already suspected it, and the bullying remained on a fairly standard level, except on the part of one person. There was one Neanderthal-type jock that seemed to have made it his mission in life to make Kurt's existence a misery, and the worst part was that nobody seemed to notice or care. Or if they did, they did nothing. David Karofsky had moved to the school last year during Kurt's freshman year, before he came out, and he had been a fairly standard jock – popular but did not go out of his way to make his life a misery. It was only in the last few months or so that this had all changed, and Kurt could not help but get upset, wondering why he was suddenly being treated like the dirt on the bottom of someone's shoe. Whenever Karofsky saw him, he would either spit out words of awful abuse, or trip him up in the corridor, or even slam him up against the lockers for no apparent reason. Bullying was no rare occurrence for Kurt but it was the loathing and hate he saw in Karofsky's eyes that hurt him the most; as if the other boy was condemning his right to exist simply because he was gay. The bullying had gotten so bad of late that Kurt had briefly considered telling his dad before deciding against it. It would only ruin his happiness and he was busy enough as it was.
Glancing around him warily for any signs of Karofsky, Kurt entered the school and approached his locker. Although he had been bullied his whole life because of his clothes and his high pitched, falsetto voice, there had been a time when he just did not care. Nothing had mattered because he had been happy. One boy – his best friend in the whole wide world, had made him so happy and encouraged him so hard to be exactly who he was, that Kurt had not minded when people teased him, or pushed him over. Because at the end of the day, he would link arms or hands and walk home with that boy, who would deem the bullies 'jealous jerks', and they would laugh over the silliest but mot wonderful things. Smiling slightly at the memories that flashed before his eyes, Kurt followed his morning ritual and opened his locker, staring longingly at the photo stuck onto the inside of the door. A younger version of himself grinned back at him, his arms around a smaller, amber-eyed boy with sleekly gelled back dark hair and a dazzling smile. He too had his arms protectively encircled around Kurt and for an instant he could almost imagine being back at the moment in which the photo had been taken. It had been Kurt's tenth birthday – just over a year before everything good came crashing down – and Burt had made a swing for him from one of the spare tyres at his shop. In the picture, he and the other boy were both clinging to the rubber of the tyre swing, happy and content, not knowing what the future was to bring.
Blaine Anderson had not only been his best friend, but also his saviour. Even though the boy was a year younger than him, and smaller, he had always been quick to defend Kurt from the nasty sneers and pushes from his classmates when they attended school together. He was always the first to find him crying in the boys toilets where upon he would pull Kurt into a cubicle away from the public eye, and hug him tightly until the tears stopped. He knew instinctively when Kurt wanted to talk or cry about the bullying and he always knew perfectly when Kurt wanted to just sit and chat about the dumbest topics imaginable. Blaine had not always been and was not an obvious social outcast, but he had put himself in the firing line by befriending Kurt, and even though Kurt had felt guilty about that, he knew that Blaine just did not care. They had chanced upon the luck that they had also been next door neighbours so whenever Kurt was unhappy, Blaine would come over and they would simply cuddle up on the Hummels' couch. And vice versa. Because even though everyone thought that Blaine Anderson was a confident, outgoing, carefree young boy, he was not. In a way, as Kurt got older, he thought that Blaine must have needed him just as much as he needed Blaine, because the younger boy had suffered an extremely abusive home life, which only he and eventually Burt came to know about. He remembered the scratches on Blaine's arms and legs from the belt beatings his father would give him, a number of times a day depending on how drunk he was. Everyone had thought Jonathon Anderson was a well respected, sociable man running a very well thought of law firm. It was only when he ran that the news came out that he was actually a fraudulent crook who had taken people's money without any intention of paying it back or working for it. Kurt remembered all too well that horrific morning that Blaine had been dragged from his house after a harrowing night at the hospital, where Blaine's confident façade had come shattering down, revealing a vulnerability which only Kurt had ever seen. The older boy could recall Blaine's panicky scream of 'I love you' to him as his father seized hold of his hair, and whilst Kurt tried to lunge after his best friend, only to have Burt holding him back. Kurt loved Burt dearly, but that incident was perhaps the only time he had been disappointed in his father, and to this day, was not sure if he had forgiven him for that. Blaine had been carted away that day, never to be seen or heard from again. After hearing how distressed Blaine was and seeing what a monster Mr Anderson really was, Kurt had always wondered heartbrokenly whether Blaine was even still alive. Because if he was, surely he would be old enough now to at least call him. As time went on, Kurt had begun to wonder whether Blaine had simply forgotten about him. Maybe he was weird for feeling so connected to the other boy, especially when they had been so young, but he had felt almost as if they were soul mates. Being separated from each other had been agonising for both of them at the time, and there was not a day that went by without Kurt wondering what Blaine could be doing at a certain moment, or remembering snippets of events or conversations they had.
The problem was that no other friendship could compare to the bond he and Blaine had. Being openly gay and thus, condemned at McKinley by most people, he had two relatively close friends – Mercedes Jones, an African-American girl, slightly on the large side with a powerhouse singing voice and a big heart, and Tina Cohen-Chang, a shy Asian girl who nevertheless had quite frequent mood swings. Recently, Kurt had also struck up an on-off friendship with Rachel Berry, Finn's girlfriend. She was the frontrunner in the glee club and thus would shoot anyone down who had an intention to take her all important solo away from her, thus leading her and Kurt to sometimes come to blows, because he could also be a force of nature when it came to singing. All three of those girls, despite Rachel being Finn's girlfriend, were unpopular just like he was, and though he loved them all in his own way, the friendship they had did not compare to what he and Blaine had had. Perhaps it had been because Blaine practically grew up in the Hummel household, because he preferred to spend time with Kurt at his house then being told how worthless he was by his dad. Kurt could not blame him one bit, and certainly never complained. He missed Blaine everyday.
His thoughts were disrupted suddenly when he felt a hand on his back, pushing him heavily against the lockers so that stumbled in surprise and crashed ungracefully to the floor. Trying to ignore the pain in his back from the rough push, Kurt glanced up and saw Dave Karofsky smirking and leering at him, murmuring 'Fag' as he walked away down the corridor. Kurt's first urge was to cry, but as always he kept himself together and held his head high. Whilst he composed himself, drawing his knees up to his body and leaning with his back against the lockers, he watched the people around him. No one was looking, and he doubted that anyone had even noticed the homophobic abuse that had just taken place. It was a mark of how ignorant McKinley High School was that kids just thought shoving and throwing slushy's in people's faces was the social norm. That was one of the reasons he could not wait to get out of Lima and into the big city – perhaps New York. He and Blaine had dreamed and planned to move to New York together when they were young. Kurt sighed. With his luck, he would probably end up living in Lima for the rest of his life, working at the 'Lima Bean'. It wasn't that being a barista was a problem; just that it was not what Kurt wanted to do, and there were funkier ways to make a living. Namely on the stage.
Kurt took in a deep, soothing breath, blinking away any tears that might possibly have formed before getting to his feet and taking the books from his locker that he needed for the day. With one last glance at the photo of him and Blaine, he muttered to himself 'Courage' before closing the locker door and heading to his first class of the day.
Burt turned sharply into the hospital parking lot, parking a little carelessly before quickly hopping out of the truck, locking it and jogging towards the hospital. Thankfully, Carole seemed to have planned ahead, because as he approached the entrance, he saw that she was standing there, pacing backwards and forwards, a haunted look in her eyes. When he reached her, she looked up and celebrated his arrival by placing her arms tightly around him. He did the same to her, holding her gently for a few moments because he could sense that she was still upset about what she had seen this morning. Eventually, they pulled away from each other and Burt murmured quietly but urgently:
"Where is he?"
"Second floor," she replied, equally subdued. "We had to put him on the children's ward because… god Burt… he's still a child… he's not even sixteen yet."
"I know." Burt whispered, drawing an arm around her and pulling her close as they walked towards the lift.
"But because of what he's been through, they've given him a private room to himself. It's probably best under circumstances."
Burt just nodded and was extremely thankful that the lift was already waiting on the ground floor to take them up, so they wouldn't have to wait several minutes for it to come back down. They stepped inside and Carole expertly pressed the correct floor, causing the door to close the lift to jerk upwards. There was a small silence as they waited to reach their destination, and it was only broken when the doors opened again on the second floor and they stepped out into the ward. It smelt strongly of disinfectant and illness; that god-awful combination he had become so used to when visiting his late wife, Elizabeth in hospital in her final weeks of life. He pushed these thoughts to focus on what he came for. Blaine.
"Burt, who is Blaine?" Carole asked tentatively, because she could see how disturbed and angry the man she loved was over this poor boy getting hurt. One moment he had sworn he did not know a fifteen-year-old boy and the next he was hurrying over to the hospital in record time.
Burt sighed, "I know I have questions to answer, but could I just check it's him first. I… I need to know."
Carole hesitated, and Burt knew there was something more to the story than Blaine just being beaten up. Something really wrong had happened, and that was why she was so upset.
"What aren't you telling me honey?" he asked gently but fearfully, and to his surprise, and dread, she took his hand and led him over to an empty row of white plastic seats set just outside the section of the floor entitled 'Welcome to the Children's Ward'. He lowered himself onto a seat beside her, ignoring how uncomfortable it was, and keeping his eyes focused on his partner, waiting a little impatiently for her to form the right words to tell him what was going on.
"The boy… Blaine." Carole eventually said quietly, almost in a deadened tone of voice. "He was hurt really quite badly and… and it's probably going to take him quite a while to get over what happened. If… if he ever does." Burt swallowed; dread creeping up inside every area of his heart. He prayed silently to anyone who may be up there in the sky that the boy would be alright; that Carole was exaggerating or giving him the worst case scenario. "His left arm is broken in two places, probably from falling to the ground or… or trying to battle his… his attacker." Carole stuttered. It was becoming increasingly harder to tell the man she loved that a boy he so obviously cared about had ben violated in such a serious way. "He has a very high fever and is dehydrated. Doctor Andrews – he's a good doctor and knows what he's doing – he's put him on a saline drip to drop his temperature back down but it's our guess that he has chronic hypothermia."
"Oh Jeez," Burt muttered, crouching down and putting his head in his hands, but still was unable to break eye contact from Carole. There was still something she was not telling him, and from the fear in her eyes, he had a horrible feeling that he knew what it was. He prayed that he was wrong.
"Blaine was freezing when we brought him in; he had nothing on him – no food, money I.D, and his clothes and skin were filthy. We… we don't think he's been at home, wherever that is, in a long time. On the contrary, we think he's been sleeping on the streets. He's positively exhausted. Doctor Andrews suspected that he's been travelling for a while on foot without food or water, because he's… severely malnourished. That's… that's probably why he didn't stand a chance against… well the person who did this."
"The bastard who did this." Burt amended bitingly, and it was a mark of just how angry he was that he swore. Carole rarely, if ever, heard the man swear. He had removed his customary baseball cap and was running his hands stressfully over his balding scalp, trying to comprehend what his partner was telling him. How could one boy have suffered so much? Why had Blaine been sleeping on the streets? Burt gritted his teeth because he knew the answer already – Jonathon Anderson had obviously done something really wrong this time. He looked up from his crouched position into Carole's watery eyes and steeled himself for what was about to be said, "That's not the worst of it is it?"
Carole's chin trembled slightly and she moved to grip his hand tightly, shaking her head. She took a series of deep breaths before she looked back at him clearly and whispered, "He wasn't just beaten. He… he was raped."
For an instant Burt felt nothing; the horrific news seemed to numb his entire body. It was only when Carole squeezed his hand in comfort from next to him that his brain processed what she had just said, and he was filled with hot, boiling, grievous rage. The little boy with the dapper, slightly mischievous grin who had changed both his and Kurt's lives for the better, especially after Elizabeth's death, had… had been raped. Blaine, who over the six years Burt had known him and had come to view him as a son to him, had been… violated. The boy who had come with him and Kurt to this very hospital nine years ago to hold Kurt's hand and console him, even when he was so young himself, when Elizabeth died – he had been… On the drive to the hospital, Burt had felt a surge of hope with the news that Blaine had been found. He always wondered what had happened to the boy, and although he had not told Kurt because it might get his hopes up, he had tried through various channels to find Blaine, or at least make sure he was safe. However, Jonathon Anderson had covered his tracks very carefully and nothing had come of his searches or requests. Yet now, Burt just wanted this not to have happened. No one deserved such a fate, but he could not help but selfishly wish that it wasn't Blaine lying in that hospital bed; that the boy had asked for someone else and that Carole had got it wrong. It wasn't Blaine. It couldn't be him.
Burt tore his hand away from Carole, barely controlling his fury has he stood and paced up and down the corridor, his hands massaging his head in a desperate attempt to keep calm. Carole only forced back more tears as she saw her soon-to-be husband in such a state, and watched him quietly. After what seemed like hours but was actually a matter of minutes, Burt said shakily:
"I… I need to see him."
Carole nodded, but still made no move. She hesitated before saying softly, "Burt… the beatings he had – some of them were fresh, but there were many… old scars on his body. I've seen domestic abuse cases Burt," she whispered quietly, as he closed his eyes and wiped his hands over his face tiredly. When he kept them there, she knew he was hiding tears, but she also knew that he wouldn't want her to fuss over it. Instead she continued, "The x-ray showed that several of his ribs have been broken before, he has scars that look as if they've been caused by… I don't know… a belt? Solid objects – not skin to skin impact."
Burt forced the oncoming tears away with the palms of his hands and told himself to man up – he was an adult and this time he wouldn't let Blaine down. Ultimately, he would have to be strong for the boy… and for Kurt. Oh Kurt, he thought miserably. At some point, he would have to call him and tell him. He replaced his hands to his sides and repeated his statement from earlier:
"I… I need to see him."
Carole looked at him worriedly.
"I need to check that it's him." Burt expanded, although he just knew that it would be.
Carole nodded and stood from the seat, indicating with her eyes that he should follow her. She turned and entered the children's ward, Burt following in her wake. The passed many rooms full of sleeping or poorly children, though some were laughing or singing. But Burt could not hear the sound of laughter at that moment; all he could think about was the boy he had allowed to be manhandled out of his kitchen door, whilst he stood and did nothing. Eventually, they came to a stop at a generic, white-washed hospital room door, which Carole opened quietly and Burt followed her inside.
The sight which met him broke his heart. Lying unconscious and clearly heavily medicated in the large cot, with his uninjured right arm hooked up to a saline drip, and an oxygen mask covering his lower face, was the tiny form of Blaine Anderson. Obviously, he was older than Burt remembered him. After all, six years had passed since they had last seen each other. The boy's dark hair which used to be so carefully and attentively gelled back was longer and uninhibited into curls, which were tangled and wet, either from the sweat of the fever or from washing. He knew that many homeless patients were washed before they were allowed to rest in the clean white sheets of hospital beds. The most heart-breaking aspect of Blaine's appearance was how blatantly underweight he was. Even with a white hospital gown, and a soft, warm blanket covering him, it was obvious that he had not had eaten much, if anything, at least in the last couple of months. The boy's eyes were closed yet Burt could see how exhausted he was from the dark circles that surrounded his eyelids. There were bruises all down the length of his visible arm, but the other was hidden by a cast, and if he looked closely, Burt could make out the faintest scar from the head wound Jonathon Anderson had inflicted on his son six years previously. It was such a depressive sight that for an instant Burt found it hard to believe this was the boy who had so often bounded with endless, positive energy around his house with Kurt. Unable to stop himself, he let out a sob: "Oh kiddo."
Carole also had tears in her eyes and together they took the two empty seats to the right of Blaine's bed. Burt Hummel had never been a touchy feely kind of man; that had always been Kurt's forte; however at that moment he could not stop himself from reaching out of place his hand gently on top of Blaine's wrist, to avoid the needle in his hand.
"I'm sorry, bud," he whispered softly, his voice cracking every so often with sadness and guilt, and he didn't dare look at Carole. She however thought she had never loved her partner more. "I'm so sorry this had to happen. I'm… I'm so sorry we didn't come after you that day."
Carole wiped away her own tears, wondering how she could become attached to this unknown boy so quickly, especially seeing Burt's reaction to him in a hospital bed. She had only ever seen him cry once, and that was when he talked of Elizabeth's passing, and the struggle to be a good father to Kurt. She looked at him curiously, wondering what he was talking about.
"It's going to be alright, buddy," Burt promised Blaine quietly, clearing his throat and gaining control of himself again. He knew the boy could not hear him, but talking to him made Burt feel strangely a little better. It was almost as if he was reassuring himself as well as the unconscious teenager. "From now on, it'll be okay. You're safe now. You're home."
Silence then reigned, during which Burt removed his hand from Blaine's wrist and sat there blankly, his mind a mist of memories, and trying to figure out how to tell Kurt what had happened. He could not let his son see Blaine like this; it would truly break him and the last thing he wanted to do was see his son hurting. He didn't really know how Kurt would react. Kurt did not speak openly of Blaine very often but Burt could always tell that he thought about him; whenever he saw the rubber tyre swing dangling now a little raggedly from the tree in the back garden, or when he stared at the picture frame on his bedside cabinet of Blaine and himself enacting a two-man show, there was a glazed, almost peaceful look in his eye which he did not carry with him in everyday life. But after six years, and after such a terrible thing had happened to Blaine, how would the two react to each other? Burt shook his head – perhaps he was getting too far ahead of himself. At that moment in time, Blaine was his responsibility, and he had to think about what was best for him.
"Burt…"Carole said suddenly, drawing him out of his reverie. He turned his head to look at her and she repeated her question from earlier, slowly, almost tentatively, "Who is Blaine?"
Burt sighed, but knew she deserved answers. He looked briefly and Blaine who was still blissfully unconscious before taking a deep breath:
"Blaine Anderson was Kurt's childhood friend." He stated simply. "His best friend. They were inseparable; they quite literally went everywhere together. Blaine was… is a year younger than Kurt but that never seemed to matter to them – they were equals in each other's eyes and that was what was so great about their friendship, I guess." Burt smiled softly at the memory of Kurt coming home the first time they met each other, a bewildered yet outwardly confident young Blaine trailing in his wake. "They first met each other at school… apparently some of the kids were picking on Kurt for his voice, and his clothes. Long story short, Blaine, who was five years old and half the size of these bullies defended Kurt and they became friends forever more." Burt's smile widened as he recounted fond memories of the two kids, "They both had similar interests… well… perhaps Blaine wasn't as…" he searched for the right word. "out there as Kurt in terms of fashion and what not, but they both used to put on these duets and two-man shows which of course I had to be the audience for."
Carole smiled softly, "Of course."
"Blaine… Blaine encouraged Kurt to be who he was despite what the bullies said." He gave a watery chuckle, "Hell, I learnt that lesson from him, and he was a little kid. He was there when Elizabeth died and… and at a time when I didn't know what I was doing. He helped Kurt through it in his own little way. They had this bond which I could… I could never quite figure out what exactly it was. Sometimes I would forget that I only had one son," Burt recalled fondly. "He spent so much time at our house I forgot he wasn't mine." His eyes darkened suddenly. "And when I told him it was time for him to go home, you could something in his eyes… something that made you realise that the his home life wasn't perfect. Everyday he put on this confident little show but at times, you could just tell that something wasn't right... he was… vulnerable." He growled sharply, "Of course, I eventually found out why that was."
"What?" Carole asked quietly, although she had a feeling she knew what was coming already.
Burt sighed, wiping his hands over his eyes tiredly again, "Blaine and his family were our next door neighbours. They moved there just as Kurt was starting school, but Elizabeth and I hardly saw hide nor hair of Blaine or his mom before he started school the following year. The only people we saw were Cooper, Blaine's older brother and Jonathon, Blaine's dad." Burt's eyes darkened considerably and Carole was alarmed to see something akin to loathing in them. Burt Hummel was a fair-minded man; he did not hate anyone lightly. "Cooper was nothing short of self-absorbed, arrogant and it was quite clear he didn't give a damn about his family. He was twelve years older than Blaine and left school at sixteen to become an actor. He got a role on a daytime soap opera and left Ohio – he only came back occasionally for visits, or when he needed Jonathan's money. You could sum up Jonathan in three words:" he growled angrily. "a showman, a bully and a crook. On the outside he ran a respectful law firm and he could turn he charm on just like that. Women loved him; there were rumours of the countless affairs he had, but few actually believed them because he was so good at putting on a show. First and foremost, Anderson was a bully though. The sounds of yelling coming from that house were enough to keep all of us awake, especially Kurt – he as only young at the time, and he didn't really know what was going on thankfully. He would yell and drag his wife around like a piece of meat; that much was obvious when you heard them yelling on the street. But Anderson told this story about his wife, Grace, being sick… mentally… that she had these episodes where he had to shout to reason with her or else never be heard. Again, people believed him."
"You didn't?" Carole said half-smiling, though it was more of a statement than a question.
Burt shrugged, "It probably wasn't any of my business. But no, I didn't. I met Grace quite a few times; she and Elizabeth got on well and would occasionally have coffee at her place when Jonathan was out. Elizabeth met Blaine before Kurt and I did, and she described him as sweet and loving… the same words she used to describe Grace. And I sure as hell wasn't going to believe Jonathan Anderson over my wife." Carole's smile widened in adoration; she knew she was lucky to have such a loyal, moral man as Burt Hummel. Burt had gone silent for a moment, and Carole wondered if the tale was over before he continued gravely, "Grace committed suicide about three months before Blaine started school."
Carole gasped, her heart thumping, and she looked back over to the fragile boy on the bed, who had been through so much. "Oh my God."
Burt nodded sadly in agreement and joined her gaze on Blaine. "She overdosed on sleeping pills so it was clean and quiet. Elizabeth said that Blaine didn't even know until his dad came home and called an ambulance, saying that his 'mentally ill wife had tried to take her own life'. Blaine thought she was just asleep."
Carole felt the need to take Blaine's hand, regardless of the fact that it had the needle and cannula stuck inside it. "Poor boy." She whispered.
Burt was quiet for a moment, fidgeting with his baseball cap as if not knowing quite how to carry on, "Obviously I suspected a different reason for her... doing what she did but… anyway Blaine started school, met Kurt… he never talked about his mom's death, and I didn't push him to do so. That was probably why he was so good at helping Kurt through Elizabeth's death – he knew what it was like. They probably became closer still because of it. I was actually surprised how bright and confident he seemed after he'd gone through so much but as I said… there were signs that things weren't okay. I just wished I had noticed and... done something sooner. For all the time I knew him, Blaine constantly had bruises. At first I thought this was normal… boys get into trouble, they climb trees, they get messy... they fall over. But as he grew up, I noticed that they were getting worse. And you could still hear shouting from next door. Except this time, it was just Jonathan." Burt put his head in his hands and muttered gutturally, "I began to suspect that Jonathan was being physically abusive towards Blaine. And still I didn't speak up. I just… how do you approach a nine or ten year-old kid and ask them if their dad is… is hitting them?"
Carole gazed sadly at Burt, realising just how guilty he felt, but knowing that he was right. At such a tender age, it would have been a very awkward subject to broach. Plus, with Blaine seemingly acting like everything was fine, he would probably have lied or clammed up. She watched as a mixture of fury and guilt flooded through his eyes again.
"He told Kurt." Burt uttered sadly. "He told Kurt about his dad hitting him, and yelling terrible… awful things at him. But Kurt didn't come to me because he promised Blaine that he wouldn't tell anyone. And Jonathan… that… that sorry excuse for a dad threatened and terrified him so much that he didn't feel he could tell anyone." Carole listened, her eyes watering with tears again. She was a nurse. She heard and saw domestic abuse cases all the time, but to hear a case so personal from a man she loved very much, and about the hurting, innocent boy in the bed in front of her, made it all the more heart-breaking. "Kurt only told me all this later when Blaine was… well…"
Burt sighed, placing his baseball cap back on his head out of his need to do something with his hands. "And then one night… he would have been ten and Kurt eleven…"
Next part shall be up soon if you want. Sorry for the lack of a promised Klaine reunion but I got a little overenthusiastic with the writing. It's coming though. Please review if you have a minute.