We Dreamed a Dream

by CminorAdagio

Blaine made a promise to Kurt all those years ago to always protect him; they made plans together, and they made dreams. But then everything changed. Six years later, as Carole Hudson drives to work, she makes a heartbreaking, yet fateful discovery which will change not only her life, but her family's lives forever.

3. Chapter 3

Thank you to all of you lovely people who have reviewed, followed and favourited this story. And apologies for the lateness of the chapter. Please review and I hope you enjoy.

A pounding on the door brought Burt to his senses, and it took him a moment to work out where he was. Groaning and running a hand over his face tiredly, he realised that he had fallen asleep on the couch again whilst watching the match. The television had been turned off, and Kurt, who had been curled up next to him sketching disproportionate, faceless models wearing oddly flamboyant outfits, was absent. Realising that his son must have had more sense than he did and gone to bed, turning the television off on his way out, Burt stood and tried to remember why he had been woken again. The answer soon came to him as the pounding on the door became increasingly insistent, and within seconds, he heard Kurt's footsteps on the stairs and his boy appeared next to him, clad in pyjamas, his normally neatly crafted hair tousled.

"W-What's g-going on?" he yawned sleepily as the knocking continued. "Who's at the door?"

Kurt was about to step forwards to answer the door when Burt finally came to his senses and pulled Kurt backwards.

"No," he said firmly to his son. "There are all kinds of people outside at this time of night." He nodded to the couch. "Why don't you sit down and I'll answer the door?"

Kurt, who was still too tired to object, obeyed and walked over to the couch whilst Burt undid the metal catch and opened the door slowly. Before he could register what was happening, a small figure that must have actually been leaning on the door for support fell forwards into the threshold of the house. Burt, whose reactions had been dimmed by sleep, almost did not catch him, however he was extremely thankful that he did when he realised who it was. He would recognise that gelled dark hair anywhere.

"Blaine!" he cried urgently, all sleepiness lost when the boy fell headfirst into his arms. At his father's startled cry, and recognising the name of his friend at once, Kurt shot up from the sofa and dashed over to where the pair was standing. Had it not been for Burt's arms holding on protectively around Blaine's small frame he was sure the kid would have collapsed straight to the ground, and he soon noticed why.

Running down the right side of Blaine's face from his forehead to just underneath his right eye was a profusely bleeding wound that looked as if someone had tried and succeeded in throwing a sharp or glass object directly at him. As it was, the sight looked much worse because the unattended wound was causing blood to dribble down his cheeks and onto his now staining clothes, whilst there was already swelling enflaming around his right eye and Blaine appeared to be unwilling to or unable to open it. In fact, the boy seemed to be having trouble staying conscious at all, hence him falling headfirst into Burt's arms and hanging there limply. Judging from the fact that despite his semiconscious state Blaine had tears running down his cheeks, mingling with the blood already settling there, Burt had no trouble working out who had done this.

Kurt finally reached them and let out a horrified scream, rushing at once to Blaine's side:

"Blaine!" he cried, tears instantly welling up in his eyes as he took in the deep cut and his best friend's terrified face. "Blaine, what happened? Are you okay? Please say something!" When Blaine just let out an incoherent, choked up mumble and a spasmodic sob, Kurt also began to cry, looking desperately up at Burt. "W-What's wrong with him dad? W-We've got to help him. We-"

Burt did not need anymore time to assess Blaine's injuries before he knew what to do. Not wanting Kurt to get even more upset than he already was, he said firmly but gently to his son, "Go upstairs, get dressed and in your coat – we're going to the hospital."

Kurt did not need telling twice. With one more terrified look at his injured companion he nodded and charged from the room, running all he way up the stairs. As he did so, Burt could hear him still sobbing and closed his eyes painfully. He always hated seeing and hearing his son cry. He then looked down at the little boy hanging limply in his arms, who he considered to also be a son, and wondered angrily how on earth a father could not only make his son cry, but hurt him to such an inhumane degree. Carefully he put one hand underneath Blaine's legs and the other behind the kid's back, lifting him into his arms, walking a little way to the couch and placing him down gently. When he tried to touch the boy's head to further inspect the wound, Blaine cried out tearfully in pain and placed his already bloody hands automatically to the cut. All pretence of confidence and joyfulness were gone from the kid, and Burt had to admit that it terrified him. Blaine was usually so good at covering up whatever was going on at home, but clearly tonight he was in so much pain and was so distraught that he just desperately needed help. And he tuned to him and Kurt. Burt subsequently vowed not to let the kid down, as well as making a mental note to call child protective services later on once Blaine was well enough. If Blaine was well enough, he amended. The poor boy was now sobbing so hard and clinging in agony to his right eye that Burt was concerned he was making the wound even worse. Gently, Burt reached forwards and disengaged Blaine's hands from his face, holding them tightly in his own to stop the boy from doing any further damage. He could feel pressure against his hands; Blaine aching to replace his hands back over his eye but Burt kept a firm hold.

"No, bud," he told the boy softly. "just keep your hands away from your face okay? It'll just make it hurt even more." Blaine just cried a further in response, yet Burt was sure he had heard him because the kid suddenly became more awake and alert at hearing his voice, his good eye settling on the man. Deciding that keeping him conscious was the best idea, Burt continued to keep talking. "Can you open your other eye for me kiddo?"

"N-no." Blaine responded, trembling. Burt knew that the boy was not being deliberately disobedient or rude in his refusal; he genuinely thought he was not able to, or worse, he couldn't open his right eye. However Burt persevered, knowing that if the child genuinely could not open his eye then the wound was worse than he thought.

"I know it'll hurt, bud," he sympathised gently, "But believe me, you have to try to open your eye otherwise it'll be worse later on when we get to the hospital. Just give it a go." He encouraged.

Although Blaine looked reluctant and terrified at the mere thought of the task, his eye slowly flickered open but then closed instantly, Blaine letting out a whimper of pain; his hands moving in Burt's as if itching to hold onto his head again.

"Okay," Burt praised. "That's good. You're doing good," although he was not sure if a brief opening of the eye was good progress or not. Still, he did not want to distress the boy even more so he did not demand he do it again.

A few minutes later Kurt came dashing back down the stairs again, his coat wrapped tightly around him, clutching a towel. He handed it to Burt, and it took a few seconds for the man to catch onto what his boy had brought the towel for. Then realisation dawned and, giving Kurt a brief but proud smile, he pressed the towel gently against Blaine's bleeding head. The younger boy winced in pain, this time squeezing both eyes, as he whimpered blindly, "Kurt?"

Although Kurt looked terrified and quite sick at the sight of his bleeding friend, he stepped up to the plate and kneeled down next to his father, taking Blaine's hands so that Burt could wrap the towel around the boy's head. "I… I'm here Blaine." He comforted his younger friend, though his voice shook slightly.

Blaine did not open his eyes, but he certainly seemed more comforted by Kurt's presence and touch; the tears stopped a little and he gave a brief ghost of a smile, squeezing Kurt's hands in response. Burt finished wrapping the towel around the boy's head and lifted Blaine carefully into his arms again, "Kurt my keys are on the kitchen counter, bud. Fetch them and open the car door."

Once again, Kurt sniffed and nodded obediently, squeezing Blaine's hands gently before letting go and running off to get the keys. Blaine let out a whimper at the loss but did not start crying again. It was almost as if he knew that his tears would consequently make Kurt more upset, because Burt noticed that whilst Blaine was relatively calm, so was Kurt. Kurt returned a few seconds later with the keys and he and Burt, with Blaine still in the man's arms hurried outside to the car, Kurt locking the front door behind him.

"Kurt can you sit upfront with me and I'll lay Blaine across the back seat?" Burt suggested to his son, who immediately looked distressed again.

"Can't I stay with him?" he asked pleadingly. "Please. I can-"

"Bud, I don't think that's a good idea." Burt muttered doubtfully, although he hated seeing his baby boy so heartbroken. He simply did not want Kurt to have to see his usually calm and composed friend crying and bleeding anymore than he had to.

"Dad, please…" Kurt cried, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks, and again, as if sensing Kurt's anguish, Blaine turned his head in Burt's arms and opened his good eye, as if trying to locate where his best friend was standing.

Sighing, Burt looked down at the suffering, injured boy in his arms and then to his tearful son; two kids he loved too much to separate in that terrible moment and so eventually nodded. He made sure Kurt was secured in with his seatbelt before laying Blaine carefully across the back seat, so that his towel-wrapped head was in Kurt's lap. Burt then closed the door as carefully as he could to avoid causing Blaine anymore pain and started towards the driver's door. As he did, he thought he saw an angry face appear at the window of the Anderson household before the sound of glass bottles smashing against solid wall was clearly audible. Burt quelled his boiling rage for the moment, settling to express it only with low growl before opening the door and climbing into the truck and switching on the ignition.

The journey to the hospital was quiet with the exception of the terrified, but gentle whispers of comfort Kurt was directing at Blaine, and each time Burt looked into his rear view mirror he could see that the both boys were gripping onto each other's hands for dear life. Intermittently, Blaine would allow a whimper or two to escape as they drove over unavoidable road bumps, or when the car came to a stop at a red light, but for the most part, he seemed to be trying to keep calm. Burt suspected this was either due to Kurt's safe presence or Blaine feeling the need to remain calm in order to keep Kurt calm. Actually, he suspected both reasons. The only audible snippet of conversation he overheard made him even angrier:

"Was it your dad that hurt you?" Kurt asked softly, clearly trying to keep his voice down so that Burt could not hear.

Burt however did hear and he looked briefly in the rear view mirror in time to see Blaine respond with the tiniest nod of affirmation and a small, "Yes."

In case either of the boys noticed he had been listening and watching, Burt made a show of leaning forward in the driver's seat and squinting at a road sign up ahead directing them to the hospital, stating loudly, "Nearly there now."

Thankfully, the ER was not incredibly busy at that time of night. It was late enough for it to be way past Kurt and Blaine's bedtime, but time yet for the drunken-related incidents of Lima to come flooding in through the doors. Due to the wound being quite deep, and the fact that Blaine had lost so much blood that he was starting become extremely dizzy and muttering faintly about a headache, he was seen and examined quickly. Blaine was laid carefully onto a gurney and wheeled into a small, curtained cubicle where two overly-cheerful nurses promptly removed the now ruined towel from his head and began firstly by cleaning the excess blood from his face and around his eye, whilst waiting for the on-call doctor to examine him. Burt and Kurt stayed by his side the whole time. Kurt pleaded to hold Blaine's hand but the nurses would not hear of it, and they suggested to Burt that he and Kurt wait outside because Kurt's tearful voice was starting to distress Blaine again. That was when they started to ask awkward questions which Burt was not sure he could or should give the correct answers to.

The most prominent question of course was how Blaine had ended up being injured in such a way. Burt was torn how to answer this; on the one hand he wanted desperately to blurt out straight away that it had been Blaine's sadistic, bullying monster of a father, but on the other, he remembered how careful the boy had been to cover his home life up, and Kurt also seemed to be willing to help his friend keep his secret. Burt questioned himself as to whether he would be betraying the two boys if he gave up Blaine's father. Jonathan Anderson would almost certainly be arrested and for that, Burt would be glad. It was where the man belonged. However this then raised the question: what would happen to Blaine? Most likely, he would be put into foster care and would be moved to the nearest available children's home. Lima was a small town; the nearest foster home would probably be in Westerville which would be miles away. Blaine's life would be turned upside down; he probably wouldn't see Kurt anymore; he would be transferred from institution to institution and there was no way Burt wanted that for the poor kid. And he knew he didn't want that for Kurt either. The two of them had blossomed in their friendship. They shared a unique bond Burt had never seen before. But then again, foster care would surely be better in the long run for Blaine than coming home each day to a dad that said and did goodness knows what to him.

The other question was ironically: 'Are you his dad?'. Burt was sorely tempted to just agree and say he was; he loved the boy as if he was his own son, but unfortunately, he was aware that lying about such a matter would probably be against the law. However if he was asked if he knew where Blaine's father actually was to contact him and tell him his son was in the hospital, what was Burt supposed to tell them? His own father did the damage? Essentially, both questions rounded up with the same answer, and Burt decided to prolong his decision and play for time, waiting until Blaine was a little better before taking action against Jonathan; brushing off their questions with vague replies. If Burt was certain of one thing however, it was that he was not letting Blaine go back to that man and that house. Now that he definitely knew of Jonathan Anderson's abuse towards his son, he vowed not to let the man hurt him again.

Instead he sat on two plastic seats by Blaine's occupied gurney, an arm wrapped around Kurt's shoulders as his boy let silent tears run down his cheeks now that Blaine could not see him, and the other holding Blaine's left hand to keep him calm, only occasionally letting go when the nurses fussed around the cot. It was a slightly numbing thought that all three of them had been in this very hospital three years ago, discovering Elizabeth had passed away during the night. Those had been very different and disturbing circumstances, and Burt was very thankful that he and Kurt were not going to lose Blaine too. However, if Blaine was made to return home by some unjustly force, perhaps they would not be so lucky. Seeing Jonathon Anderson's enraged face at the window glaring at them a few hours ago not only made Burt very angry indeed, but also left him without a doubt that Blaine's father was not going to stop hurting his son. As the nurses gently cleaned up most of the surrounding blood from the gash around his eye, Burt could see tiny shards of brown and green glass sitting painfully inside the wound and he winced, recalling the sound of Jonathan's beer bottles smashing against the wall of the house. At least he now knew what had happened, but it only fuelled his fury even more. Who the hell threw solid objects, much less, glass objects at someone? And more specifically – how sick did you have to be to direct these attacks at your ten-year-old son?

"Dad." Kurt mumbled quietly, nudging him, and Burt drifted out of is reverie just in time to see a tall, friendly-looking middle-aged doctor enter, clad in a signature white coat, dress shirt and tie; the image of dapperness, making Burt feel quite out of place in his flannel shirt, jeans and baseball cap. The man smiled briefly in acknowledgement of both Burt and Kurt before turning to Blaine who had bravely taken the dabbing at his wounds, but now shrunk away from the tall new presence in the room.

"You must be Blaine," the man said gently, flashing a friendly smile at the injured boy before him. "I'm Doctor Matthews and I hear… and see," he nodded towards the wound. "that you've had a bit of an accident."

Burt certainly would not have called it an accident, and he was fairly sure Doctor Matthews did not believe it was either, but he sensed that the man was simply trying to put Blaine at ease before he helped him.

"I'm going to need to have a little look at your head first," Doctor Matthews explained to Blaine carefully, glancing a couple of times at Burt as well to make sure the boy's apparent guardian knew what was going on. "- to see how bad it is and whether you might have a concussion, and then from the looks of it, I'll need to give you some stitches."

Blaine who had been watching and listening in fear the entire time, sat bolt upright so quickly he became dizzy and practically collapsed back down again. "S-stitches?" he stammered in terror, trying to glance sideways at Burt and Kurt but it was clear it hurt too much to do so. "You're going to s-sew m-me up?"

"It's a very common and simple procedure, I promise," the doctor smiled kindly. "And it's not as bad as it sounds. I hear you've been very brave so far for the two nurses who were in here just now, so I'm going to need you to be brave for a little longer."

Burt glanced at Blaine and knew that the boy was just too tired to put up the pretence of being brave any longer. The confident façade the child usually put on fooled them all, and often, Burt found himself forgetting that he was younger than Kurt. He looked briefly at his son, who was now leaning tiredly into his side but still looking terrified at the prospect of Blaine 'being sewn up'. Doctor Matthews also appeared to have noticed this because he took one look at Kurt and stated softly.

"Mr Anderson, maybe you and your other son should wait outside."

There were many things wrong with this suggestion. The first one of course being that he was definitely not Mr Anderson but Burt found himself no bothering to contradict this; it was one thing to lie to the doctors, but it was another to just accept the information that took for granted. However, Kurt looked up in alarm and argued fiercely, "No! No, I'm not leaving him. W-We can't leave him, dad." He cried, turning to Burt for support.

"You'd be just outside." The friendly middle-aged doctor said gently to Kurt, although he looked slightly disconcerted that the young boy was about to cry. Clearly this doctor was not as good with kids as the two nurses had been. "It'll be over so quickly you won't even notice the time has passed."

"No." Kurt argued again, his stubborn streak appearing quickly, just as it always did when he was fiercely passionate about something.

Blaine was apparently aware of everything going on and several small tears started to make their way down his cheeks at hearing his best friend in distress. Whilst Kurt and Doctor Matthews exchanged a further few words of argument on both sides, Burt gently retook Blaine's hand and squeezed it in support. Blaine squeezed back, though only half-heartedly before he said quietly through his tears:

"I'll be okay, Kurt."

Kurt stopped his comeback at once and shot off his chair to Blaine's bedside, finally able to hug him tightly, though carefully avoiding his face, now that the nurses had gone. Burt let go of Blaine's hand and watched as the younger boy hugged back just as fiercely, clinging to the material of Kurt's jacket, clearly terrified but as usual, not wanting to cause a stir, or upset Kurt any further. Burt had to admit; he did not really want Kurt watching the process of stitches being sewn into the skin, because his little boy was already squeamish. It would be made ten times worse by the fact that it was Blaine enduring the stitches.

"But you're crying," Kurt said to Blaine softly, raising a hand to wipe away the other boy's tears. "You're scared."

Blaine gave a wobbly smile in return, looking up to meet Kurt's eyes sincerely. "Y-Yeah," he admitted shakily. "But I'll be okay, I promise."

"Dad and I will stay with you." Kurt objected, gripping both of Blaine's now clean hands tightly in his.

Blaine's faint smile grew a little stronger as he pointed out, "You hate needles, Kurt." He squeezed the other boy's hands reassuringly even though he still looked terrified. "You fainted when they gave us those tetanus jabs at school" When Kurt looked as if he was about to argue, he added, "and when your mom tried to teach us to sew and you caught your finger with the needle."

Kurt gave a watery chuckle and sniffed, eventually getting Blaine's point. Burt looked between them, as always, blown away by the unbreakable bond Kurt and Blaine seemed to share. It was like they were joined together by an invisible tether; hence Kurt being unwilling to leave Blaine at such a crucial time.

"Just…" Blaine whispered so that only Kurt, and Burt because of his eavesdropping, could hear. "Just… don't leave me? Please." There was such vulnerability in that plea that Kurt also began to start up with the tears again, but he smiled and nodded. "Y-You'll be right outside?"

"I promise." Kurt whispered fervently back.

Doctor Matthews smiled but his rocking backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet gave away his impatience. Burt got to his feet and wrapped an arm around Kurt's shoulders, leading him away from the gurney, flashing Blaine a proud, but encouraging smile:

"It'll be alright, bud." He assured him softly, whilst Blaine gave a watery smile back and nodded.

Burt and Kurt had sat for almost half an hour outside the cubicle, Burt fidgeting awkwardly with his baseball cap, and Kurt staring miserably at the once-white hospital floor. Occasionally, the odd whimper of pain or a small sob would become audible from inside, causing Kurt's lip to tremble and Burt to wince. He put his hand on his son's shoulder but knew that it didn't really console him; he felt just as helpless as when Elizabeth was fading away from life in a hospital bed. But then he had been so distraught himself all he had only been able to offer Kurt was the odd hug or squeezing of the hand; it had been Blaine who mainly helped him through it.

After a while, Doctor Matthews popped his head outside the door of the cubicle to ask Burt to come in. That news did not sound good to either Burt or Kurt's ears; in fact, Kurt promptly started crying again, trying to get in past the doctor; however a kindly nurse was summoned by Matthews to sit and mind him whilst Burt returned inside the cubicle.

Blaine for the most part seemed to have got through the disinfecting of the wound without objection, as with the removing of the glass shards with tweezers. However it seemed that Doctor Matthews had been overeager with the talking and had started quizzing the poor boy on what had happened. Too tired and too stressed to cope with the lies, and too terrified to speak out against his father, Blaine had instead burst into tears which only quelled slightly when Burt came and gently held his head still whilst the doctor could finish applying the stitches without the boy thrashing around. Unfortunately, Matthews hadn't seemed to take a hint.

"Could you tell me how your son ended up this way?" he asked quietly, and as the middle-aged man looked up and stared slightly accusingly at him, he could tell the doctor thought he had been involved. He was correct that Blaine was undergoing domestic abuse; he just had the wrong man. Blaine let out a sob, and tried to move his head to look up at Burt but his head was still being held firmly still.

Burt hesitated and Matthews said slowly, "Do I need to call the police?"

Burt instantly felt extremely indignant. That was a threat if ever he had heard one, and it stung. He did not condone violence, nor had he ever done. And he especially did not think it was acceptable to behave that way towards a child, let alone Blaine, one of the sweetest kids he had ever known.

"Are you insinuating that I had something to do with this?" Burt growled, barely biting back a shout because he did not want Blaine to become even more upset. Also, Kurt would hear from outside and then there would be a commotion. Doctor Matthews looked up from his work and appeared slightly taken aback by Burt's ferocity.

"I was merely-"

"I have never laid a hand on a child, Doctor Matthews," Burt snapped. "If you're looking for someone to blame, I suggest you get someone to look up this boy's dad-"

Oops.

Blaine whimpered and his cries became louder and more agitated; Burt could not help but feel he had just betrayed the boy, especially Matthews looked up sharply with eagle eyes.

"You're not Blaine's father?"

Burt hesitated and then sighed. Now that the game was up, the only thing he could do was try and make the situation as best as he could for Blaine. "N-no." He admitted. "I'm Kurt's dad. Kurt is his best friend. We're neighbours."

"And you know that his father did this?"

"I… I think so, yes."

Doctor Matthews stared at him for a moment before finishing of the last stitch and completing his work. "I'll have someone contact the police once we're done."

"No." Blaine whimpered desperately. "Burt, please don't… don't let them-"

Burt's heart broke at seeing the child so distressed, "Look," he tried to reason with the doctor, who still focused his attention on finishing Blaine's stitches. "Let… let me handle it. I can at least call child protective services so that they can hear Blaine's side of the story… keep him safe."

"No!" Blaine cried, beginning to beg through his sobs. Once Matthews had released his head after his work's completion, and Burt's hold had weakened on him, the boy tried to sit up again. "Y… you can't call them. Please… don't call them. I-It wasn't him… I… slipped… and hit my head-"

"Blaine-" Burt tried to interrupt softly.

"- I… my dad wasn't in… th-that's why I went to Kurt's house. I-It wasn't my dad-"

Burt gently put a hand on the kid's shoulder, "I saw him in the window as we were leaving the house, bud," he stated softly. "With a beer bottle. Was he drunk?"

"N-no." Blaine tried, although Burt could tell he was lying. Blaine had always been a terrible liar. That was probably why Jonathan had got away with it so far; Blaine always just dodged around the question, and made himself appear happy and unfazed. There was no necessity to lie because no one ever asked him if he was okay. "Please Burt… don't call anyone… please."

Burt did not know what to do or to say in response to a ten-year-old kid, crying his little eyes out, with a stitched up scar running down the right side of his head, swelling over his right eye and bruises running up his arms, begging him to keep quiet about the fact that his father was an abusive monster. Yet Burt knew that even if he did nothing, Doctor Matthews would almost certainly do something. It was his obligation to do so. He had to take care of his patients, and Burt had to admit; if he was a doctor and he saw a banged up kid in the emergency room, completely distraught, he would want to get to the bottom of the matter. It was at times like these that he missed Elizabeth. She would have known what to do; she was always the voice of reason.

"Okay," Burt agreed quietly, much to the obvious horror of Doctor Matthews. "Okay, kiddo," he said soothingly, easing Blaine back into a lying position on the cot. "I won't call them…for now." He said the final two words under his breath, knowing that morally, he would have to call in some help eventually. Jonathan Anderson needed to be stopped. He would do it once they got home… if Matthews didn't do it first. He could already see the first signs of interference in the other man's eyes.

"Is he done now?" Burt asked, knowing that Blaine had gone through quite enough for one day, and it was now the early hours of the morning. Burt himself was exhausted so he hated to think how Kurt and Blaine were feeling. Both of them needed a nice, warm comfy bed – not a stiff, white plastic hospital waiting room chair or a rock hard gurney. "Can I take him home?" Despite his pretence that all was well, Blaine apparently could not help but sit up sharply, his eyes wide with terror, which in the both adults' eyes, was a giveaway if ever they saw one. "To my house? Can I take him home with Kurt and I?" Burt elaborated and the boy in front of him visibly relaxed.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Doctor Matthews said doubtfully, clearly wanting to get to the bottom of the matter of Blaine's home life. "He had a mild concussion which we should perhaps keep him in overnight to check."

Burt glanced at Blaine who looked conflicted either way. On the one hand, he was safe at the Hummels' but on the other, being in a hospital miles away from his father was also a pretty convincing incentive. Yet the place was strange, loud and smelly, full of people who asked difficult questions, and Burt could see from the way that Blaine kept pressing against his head that he had a killer of a headache.

"Have you got anything that he can take… for the pain… or the… concussion." He asked decisively, a little embarrassed at not really having the medicinal knowledge to know what Blaine needed. "I think right now he just needs a familiar, warm bed and a safe place."

Doctor Matthews sighed, and indicated that Burt should follow him outside. As soon as they exited the tiny cubicle, Kurt, who had been sitting in precisely the same gloomy position as before took it as his cue to get up and shoot inside to see Blaine. Burt half smiled before turning his full attention to the concerned doctor in front of him:

"I'd like to examine the boy further; maybe bring in a specialist." Doctor Matthews told him softly, so that the two boys inside the cubicle could not overhear the conversation. "I've seen my fair share of domestic abuse victims Mr…" he frowned, trying to recall if Burt had actually given his surname.

"Hummel." Burt provided shortly.

"- Hummel," Matthews added before continuing along his train of conversation. "The boy is distressed to even talk about how he ended up with that gash and a swollen eye; there are bruises on his arms and cuts that look as though they've been made by a leather belt. And regardless of what the boy wants, it is my job to report this."

Burt sighed, rubbing one eye tiredly, "Look," he said stressfully. "I...I know it's your job and I wholly agree that the right people need to be informed. But at least let me take him home; let him be with Kurt. He'll be more relaxed that way. Then maybe when he's less upset he can come in and be examined again. He's exhausted – you won't achieve anything except cause more damage if you do it now." Burt reasoned.

Matthews did not look altogether happy but eventually he sighed in compliance, "Okay. I'll get the nurse to fetch him something that'll help him sleep and numb the pain. The instructions will be on the bottle – he's under twelve so he won't be able to have a very high dosage."

"Right, thank you." Burt nodded in agreement, relieved.

"But I'm also going to contact child protective services straight after you leave." The doctor admitted in a no- nonsense tone that proved to Burt that he was not going to be moved on the matter. Burt did not blame the man; he would instantly do the exact same thing if it were not for the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that if he did so, then he would be betraying Blaine. "And I want him to come back here in two weeks," he told Burt, scribbling down something on the clipboard Burt had only just noticed he had been carrying. "to have a check-up and have the stitches removed."

Realising that Blaine's life was about to change drastically, as was Kurt's because his best friend would likely be moved into foster care outside of Lima, Burt sighed miserably but nodded. "Fine."

When the three of them eventually left the hospital, Burt not saying a word to either of the children about the conversation exchanged with Doctor Matthews, they were all exhausted. Kurt could barely keep his eyes open and shuffled his feet as they walked towards the car, whilst Blaine had already succumbed to sleep and was once again being carried by Burt. He settled them both inside the car and they drove back in silence.

Once they reached home, at Kurt's insistence, Burt placed Blaine in Kurt's bed, with his son directly next to him, and tucked the duvet over them. Within seconds of Kurt's head hitting the pillow, he was asleep, and Burt noted with a hint of a smile upon his face that Kurt's hand had automatically intertwined with Blaine's in sleep. Burt switched the bedroom light off and closed the door behind him. For an instant, Burt considered also going to bed, but it was now the early hours of the morning, and he had to set various affairs in order, such as ringing up Kurt's school and informing the secretary that he and Blaine would not be attending today, or calling his assistant manager, Tony, to tell him to open up shop and take charge for the day. So instead, Burt made himself a pot of strong black coffee and attended to these tasks.

Some hours later, he awoke on the sofa, having drifted off into a light snooze. Checking his watch, he realised that it was now mid-morning and Blaine would probably be needing to take some of the painkillers Doctor Matthews had prescribed him. Burt eased himself off the couch and ascended the stairs to check on the boys. It was a sweet sight to behold; even for a rather gruff man like Burt, who did not always know how to openly display his emotions. The two boys were still fast asleep, utterly exhausted from the night's events, their arms wrapped around one another in a source of comfort, whilst Blaine's injured head was tucked into the crook of Kurt's shoulder. In that moment, Burt could only feel thankful that these two kids had found companionship in each other, especially in a small, often rough town like Lima.

The word rough reminded Burt of Jonathan Anderson and his face immediately contorted in anger. He shut the door carefully behind him and travelled back downstairs to prepare Blaine's required medication. How long would it take for the police and child protective services to swoop down on Jonathan? Would the sorry excuse for a father even realise Blaine was gone after he awoke from an inevitable hangover? Was he even remotely sorry for what he had put his ten-year-old son through? Burt highly doubted the latter. He had just removed one tiny tablet from the prescription bottle, and filled half a glass of water to take up to Blaine when there was a sharp rap on the door. Frowning, Burt set the items he had been holding back onto the kitchen counter and stepped towards the door, trying to work out who could be calling at this hour. It only just dawned on him who it would be when he was halfway through opening the door.

Jonathan Anderson slammed the door open at his first opportunity, almost sending Burt flying. Burt was a fairly strong, well-built man, but physically he was in no position to take on his neighbour. Jonathan was almost the antithesis of Blaine: the boy was short and quite skinny, with dark curly hair, which was usually gelled back to perfection and striking amber eyes; Jonathan was tall and muscly with hours of gym sessions behind him, sporting short, straight brown hair and cold, dull grey eyes. Those dull grey eyes however could switch from cold to charming in a flash which was why the man was so good at conning people; or so Burt suspected. Now however, there was no false pretence of calmness or charm in those eyes; Jonathan was angry and there was no doubt about it.

"Where is he?" he demanded sharply of Burt, who attempted to push the dangerous-looking man back outside the door. "GET OFF ME, HUMMEL!" he bellowed furiously. "YOU GIVE MY SON BACK TO ME RIGHT NOW!"

Burt could have said he had no idea what Jonathan was talking about, but he did not bother. The other man had already seen him helping Blaine into the car and taking him to the hospital the night before. Burt had expected his neighbour to be angry, but not to this extent. He was beginning to see just how Blaine ended up with so many bruises, and he blocked Jonathan's entrance into the hallway. "You're no father to that kid, Anderson." Burt snapped right back. "You're not going near him, and you're certainly not going to hurt him again!"

"DON'T YOU DARE QUESTION HOW I RAISE MY SON!" Jonathan thundered, his face ramming against Burt's so that their noses were inches apart and Burt could feel saliva being spit onto his face, and smell the reeking stench of alcohol on the other man's breath.

"You're out of control." Burt growled back, as calmly as he could manage. "You've been drinking Jonathan. Just go home and-"

"I'm not going anywhere without that little shit! Where is he?"

"Right now Anderson, you're in my house – my territory," Burt snapped, pushing Jonathan back towards the door, much to the fury of the other man. "And I demand that you leave immediately or I'll call the police!"

The taller, more muscular man seized hold of the front of Burt's flannel shirt threateningly, "And I'm not obeying your demands until I get back what is mine – my son!"

"Well you're not getting him!" Burt yelled back, finally losing his grip on patience, longing to punch this man in the jaw.

There was creak from upstairs, and Burt swore inwardly, realising that the commotion must have woken Kurt and Blaine. He prayed that Jonathan had not heard the sound too but apparently luck was not on his side; the other man raised his eyes briefly to the ceiling before pushing Burt roughly aside with terrifying force, and stomping up the stairs, each footstep ricocheting around the household. Burt charged after him without hesitation and watched as the oldest Anderson threw doors open in an attempt to find Blaine, finally slamming Kurt's open, spotting Blaine huddled terrified on the bed with Kurt, and stamping in.

"GET OUT OF BED WITH THAT BOY, YOU LITTLE FAG!" Jonathan bellowed, enraged and started towards Blaine.

Blaine had never looked so… un-Blaine before. If Burt had thought at the hospital that the boy looked vulnerable, then it was nothing compared to how he looked now. All the easy confidence and energy he usually radiated was gone; replaced with paralysing fear. His amber eyes were wide with fright, and he had never looked so small, with his tiny form shaking in terror, and his hands clinging on to Kurt for dear life. Kurt if possible, looked worse. He had never seen a person, let alone Jonathan Anderson, look so utterly furious, and he was trembling with such force that he looked as if he might pass out. Just as Jonathan was about to step towards the two boys, Burt slammed against him, pushing him into the bedroom wall.

"I said," Burt panted, keeping his hands pressed to Jonathan's crumpled dress shirt. "get out of my house! You will not touch them!"

Jonathan took no notice and even for the few moments he was being restrained by Burt, his eyes ere angry slits directed at Blaine. "How dare you call child protective services, you little shit!" he yelled at his son. "HOW DARE YOU TELL THEM YOU'VE BEEN MISTREATED!" Anderson struggled against Burt, who was pressing him with all his might against the wall, wishing either Kurt or Blaine would have the sense to get out and flee, but they seemed paralysed by fear. "YOU'VE BEEN ANYTHING BUT!"

Suddenly, Jonathan shoved Burt aside and hurtled towards Blaine, seizing him by the hair and pulling him away from Kurt, and off the bed. Poor Blaine let out a cry of pain as his father dragged him along by his already sore head. Kurt began to cry and tried to grab onto Blaine; in some way protect him from the terrifying monster before them, but Jonathan kicked him away. Kurt fell back onto the floor, momentarily halting in his crying as he was in shock.

"No!" Blaine cried, finally struggling against his father. "Don't hurt him! Kurt! Kurt, are you okay?!"

When Burt saw Jonathan kick Kurt to the floor and then slap Blaine hard as the boy tried to check that his friend was alright, he saw red. He took his son gently, but firmly by the hand and launched himself after Anderson, who was descending the stairs, yelling at Blaine, "You're lucky I've got friends in high places that called me and warned me early that these people were on their way. We're getting out now! I hope you're happy with yourself, because we have to move now! You're never going to see that boyfriend of yours again, you filthy little fag!"

Burt's stomach lurched and he saw the moment Blaine comprehended what his father was saying, because he suddenly began to struggle again, desperately trying to get away. "N… no. No please!" he whimpered. "Don't… don't… I can't leave Kurt! Please…"

Burt felt Kurt tug against his hand and realised that he had also heard what Jonathan had said, and was reaching for Blaine just as desperately.

"Let him go Jonathan!" Burt called to the other man, who was busy dragging his distressed, desperately flailing son by the hair. "I'm serious… I will call the police."

Jonathan suddenly stopped, a small, chilling smile spreading over his face. "And I'm serious about this Hummel." he snapped. "When it comes down to it – who are people going to believe? A small-time car store owner who dresses in rags, or an honest, hard-working lawyer who works for a well-respected law firm."

"You're anything but honest, Anderson!" Burt growled, stepping forwards and reaching for Blaine's hand. "That's why you're planning to run away now."

Jonathan watched as Burt tried to grab hold of Blaine's hand and tugged his son back a further few inches, eking a small, sharp whimper out of him. "If you take my son now, or even try to come after us," he threatened in a dangerously quiet tone. "then you'll lose yours."

Burt stopped instantly, the colour draining from his face. He knew full well that it could be an empty threat, but Jonathan did have friends in high places and… and Kurt was his world. Jonathan smiled triumphantly as he realised that he had finally found Burt's weakness. "That's right." He continued. "I may be leaving but I leave behind friends who have the power to… let's just say… take action. So if I mentioned that you took my son and refused to give him back… planted this wound on his poor little head," he indicated the stiches Blaine had received at the hospital and Burt felt sick. "so that he needed to be taken to hospital… lied to the doctors there… I suspect that if you weren't arrested then you'd have your precious little fag here taken away from you. Either way… if you don't let us go now… then you lose him – the only person you have left after your wife died."

Burt felt cold and sick. This was not a bluff. Jonathan Anderson did unfortunately have associates with the power to do just that, and in that moment, he stupidly forgot about the one factor: if Anderson had the power already to turn this around on him, then why was he running away? Yet, in his panic, Burt completely forgot about this important factor. All he could think about were the mental images Jonathan was placing in his mind: Kurt would be left without a parent – his baby boy would be alone. Burt looked heartbrokenly at poor little Blaine who had already suffered so much; who in that moment was struggling with all his might against his father's grip, screaming 'Kurt!' and something that sounded like 'I love you!' over and over, occasionally stretching to look up at him pleadingly, but the sound appeared muted; clogged up almost as if the scene was taking place underwater, and his silent begging went unanswered. Kurt was also trying to get away from him; attempting to run after Blaine as finally, with one last smug smile, Jonathan hurled himself and his son through the door. Burt just stood there, devastated, ashamed and shell-shocked, holding back a distressed and angry Kurt, trying to formulate some sort of a plan. It took too long. By the time, he finally collected his thoughts and ran outside after Blaine, the Anderson house was locked and dark, and their car was gone.

Carole stared at Burt, tears dribbling down her cheeks as her partner buried his head into his hands in shame, not able to look at her or Blaine, who still lay silent and battered in the hospital bed before them. Silence filled the room for a few moments; the only sound audible being the machine hooked up to the saline drip which gurgled ever so often to show that liquids was successfully being emptied into Blaine's body.

"I failed him Carole." Burt eventually whispered brokenly, his voice muffled as he spoke into his hands. "That poor boy was being dragged from my home… being abused right there in front of me and he… he screamed for help… and I just stood there. I just fucking stood there and did nothing."

Carole winced at the deadened tone to his voice, and his violent use of a swear word – again, a sign of how upset Burt was. He was still the kindest, most honourable man she had ever known, and he had made a mistake – a rather big one for Blaine, but it had haunted him all these years. And at least initially he had tried to stop it. And later he had tried to make it right. She reached forward and gently placed a soothing hand on his shoulder, so that he automatically looked up at her.

"Burt, you were scared," she said so simply and softly, that Burt marvelled at how he just did not deserve a woman as kind and caring as Carole. "Kurt was your life. You had only lost Elizabeth a few years before, and you were terrified of losing Kurt as well. You were afraid of failing him."

"So I failed Blaine instead?" Burt sniffed incredulously, and impatiently brushed a few stray tears away. As always, the darling man was embarrassed to show he was crying, Carole thought. "That doesn't make it right."

Carole's hand drifted down his arm towards his right hand and she held it tightly in support. "No, but you tried to make it right." She argued softly, smiling encouragingly at him. "At first you tried to stop Jonathan, and afterwards, you tried searching for Blaine. You tried Burt… that counts for something."

Burt snorted, his eyes raising to look over Blaine's bruised, sleeping, but pained face, "It was so stupid. I let Blaine go because I was afraid of losing Kurt due to Jonathan's power… the power his so-called friends at his company had. But the truth was… calling child protective services was only the half of it. The police were already after him for laundering money. His company – that oh so respected law firm had gone bust and was stealing people's money left right and centre. That was why they were running away. Blaine's abuse being revealed to the doctor's and child protective services was the last straw. If I hadn't given up Blaine, Jonathan couldn't have done anything. Blaine would have been safe and so would Kurt. I was so stupid-"

"Burt, stop that." Carole told him firmly, squeezing his hand lightly to emphasise her point, and so that Burt would look back at her. He did and she smiled softly, "You didn't know that. You didn't know Jonathan's company had gone bust… you didn't know he had no case against you. Losing a child is a parent's worst fear," she squeezed his hand once again as some of the pain cleared from Burt's features, and she knew she was getting through to him. "I can understand that. If I had been in the same situation, with those threats against me and Finn, then I have to admit that I'd probably have done the same."

"Kurt always resented me for it." Burt said sadly.

"Oh Burt," Carole whispered softly, in such a tone as if it was obvious, "Kurt loves you."

"I know he does." Burt responded quickly, clearly frustrated at not knowing how to communicate what he meant. "Oh no… no, I'm not saying he doesn't. And I love him so much too. He means… everything. I just… I know that he never quite forgave me for not going after Blaine."

"And you never forgave yourself." Carole finished.

"No." Burt agreed. He turned back towards Blaine's pale and sleeping form, and a spark of determination returned to his kind, but stubborn eyes. "But he's home now. Blaine's home, and this time, I'm not letting him go." Carole's heart swelled with pride for the man she loved and she watched Burt let out a heavy sigh, before smiling at her, "Thank you." He whispered quietly, kissing her hand briefly, before letting their intertwined hands fall back down to his knee.

"No problem," she replied tenderly, before releasing his hand and getting to her feet. When Burt turned and looked at her in surprise, and a little bewilderment, she explained, "I'm going to talk with the doctors and see if Blaine's full examination results have come back yet."

Burt frowned, "Full examination results?"

Carole's expression turned grave as she said as gently as possible, as if to lessen the blow, "They had to perform a rape kit on him – just to make sure nothing awful was passed on. And they wanted to make sure there was no internal bleeding or any injuries other than a broken arm and well… the obvious."

At Carole's words, the situation became even more real, thus exacerbating Burt's already pained expression. Carole leaned forward and kissed him gently, just to provide the poor man with some reassurance that he was not alone in this. Burt tried his best to smile as she pulled away, but he suspected it appeared outwardly as more of a grimace.

"Would you like me to call McKinley and get someone to take Kurt out of lessons and bring him here?" Carole asked tentatively, knowing that the worst was to come. Kurt needed to be told, because from what Burt had recounted, her stepson and the poor boy lying in the hospital bed had been incredibly, almost inexplicably close. There was no telling how Kurt, who was already one of the most sensitive people Carole had ever met, would react to such news.

"No… thank you." Burt rejected the idea gently, because he knew Kurt had to hear it from him. "I'll… I'll do it soon. I just… need a few minutes."

Carole nodded in understanding, squeezing his arm briefly, before heading towards the door, "I'll call Finn then – he can drive Kurt over here whenever he's ready."

Her shocked and guilt-ridden partner simply nodded in response, and silently she left the room. Burt felt numb. Just over two hours ago, he had been sitting in his office completing a stack of paperwork and pondering the prospect of food, all of which now seemed completely null and void. He had not woken up this morning thinking that he was going to come face to face with Blaine Anderson; not that it was a bad thing. He was incredibly happy to have Blaine back with them – both he and Kurt had missed the boy so much over the years; he just wished their reunion could have occurred under happier circumstances. Blaine's condition and sudden appearance had all sorts of questions whizzing around Burt's stressed mind such as: why had Blaine most likely been living on the streets? What bastard had dared commit such a horrific act towards the boy? And where the hell was Jonathan?

At that moment, Blaine's pained, sleeping face contorted slightly, his brows furrowing as he let out a small whimper and tossed around in the bed, as if fighting half-heartedly against the demons in his nightmares. Just as he had that night in the hospital, Burt automatically reached out and squeezed the boy's hand in his soothingly. It was as if Blaine had sensed the gently contact because just as quickly as his sudden change in state had occurred, it stopped and Blaine returned to a relatively peaceful sleep. His eyes sweeping over the malnourished boy once more, Burt kept a hold of his hand, to reassure himself more than the boy in the bed, and tried to formulate some sort of plan of action. At some point within the next hour or so, he would have to call Kurt, and he had not idea how he was going to explain such a deed to Kurt. The kid was only seventeen, and Blaine was even younger. How in any way were they equipped to deal with this? Burt could not even begin to comprehend what Blaine would be feeling when he eventually woke up. The poor kid had been traumatised when they had entered the ER that night six years ago – from a head wound that could be remedied from a few simply stiches. How was he going to react when he woke up and remembered he had been… raped? From what he remembered, Blaine liked to hide behind a confident façade; he had only ever let Kurt past these barriers, but after not seeing each other for nearly six years, would he even be able to talk to Kurt? Things were bound to be awkward between them to begin with. So much had happened.

The matter of where Blaine would go was obvious; he would come back home with them. Thankfully, they had a spare room free, which Kurt had commandeered at present for extra outfit space, but Burt knew he would happily give it up for Blaine. Hopefully, Blaine would be able to tell them something of Jonathan's whereabouts and Burt would attempt to contact the despicable man, because regardless of how much he hated the man, Jonathan was still Blaine's guardian.

Burt checked once more that Blaine was sleeping relatively peacefully, before getting up from his chair shakily, taking out his phone from his overalls and stepping outside the room to initiate the hardest phone call he had ever had to make.

Next chapter: Blaine wakes up and Kurt finally knows. Please let me know what you think. I hope this chapter was okay.