A/N: This may be the only chapter of the fic not from Kurt's POV. I felt like I needed a little background, but I didn't want to use Finn. Like it? Hate it? Would you prefer to have it be only Kurt from here on out?

He who takes a child by the hand, takes the mother by the heart

Danish Proverb

Carole POV

I worry about my son. This is nothing new, of course. Mothers have worried about their sons since the Garden of Eden, and maybe further back then that. If animals can worry about their offspring, and how can they not, they must worry about them as well.

But there's a special worry that comes with a son like Finn. He's a good boy. A genuinely good boy, though I'm sure every mother feels that way about her child. But while Finn is loving, charming, and the light of my life, but he's also naïve, and easily led. He wants to fix everything for everyone, and he just didn't have enough life experience to know that that isn't always possible. At least he didn't know before all of this happened. I'm sure now he knows far more then any teenager, or even adult, should have to know about how life works.

I've long since come to the conclusion that there is just something about some kids, some sort of pheromone, that just attracts the wrong sort of people to them. Take Kurt and the hockey team. There are other children in the school for them to pick on, but for some reason they focus in on him every time. Finn's hockey team just happened to be one Noah Puckerman.

Don't get me wrong, I loved the boy. Noah (and God, I hated to call him 'Puck'.) was a good boy, too. The problem was, he was the sort of boy who attracted trouble, and his trouble always seemed to spill over and involve Finn. Case in point: my son working his butt off to try and support and care for a child that wasn't his. Puck knew who the father of that child was, but he was willing to pawn it off on Finn. He and I really haven't talked about baby Beth, and what he thought about everything, but I know he was devastated to find out the truth. Or, even you need a more extreme example, look at what happened on the night Finn was taken. What should have been a simple trip to go get a hamburger turned into a murder and kidnapping.

And yes, I know how unfair it is for me to blame Noah for that, even a tiny bit. For that night, at least, he did nothing wrong. They were going to go bowling, a nice, safe activity, and have hamburgers for dinner. They weren't going to party, they weren't going to drink, they weren't going to go out and get girls pregnant. As far as teenage entertainment went, it should have been a rather sedate night.

Besides, I know whose fault it really is. Burt thinks that it's his, because he wasn't watching Finn closer. Kurt thinks it's his, for some reason I don't understand. Finn thinks that it's his, because he's the one who told Puck to pull over and help the woman with the baby. But I know that it's really mine. I was given one child in this world, to protect and take care of, and I managed to screw it up.

Finn knows the rules of the house as well as I do. If there isn't going to be an adult at home, he's not going anywhere except to a friends house to stay. Period. No parties, no bowling, no nothing. It's a hard rule, but it's a fair one, at least in my opinion. Since Burt and I had a date, that was grounds for me to deny is request right there. He would have sulked, but he would have accepted it.

But I didn't. Finn had looked so pitiful, staring at me with Christopher's own brown eyes, miserable and begging me to let him go. I had wavered, and finally given in. Why had I let him go, when previously I had fought so very hard to keep him with me and out of harms way?

When I was a little girl, I had a very clear vision of how my life would go. I would meet my tall, dark and handsome man, marry young, and have two wonderful children. A boy and a girl would be preferable, though I also liked the thought of having two boys to roughhouse with each other. Then we would settle in together for a life of perfect happiness, at least until the grandkids started arriving.

It's strange how you can get exactly what you asked for, then loose it in seconds. By the time I was 19 years old, I was standing there in the courthouse, marrying the man of my dreams. By age 20, I was a mother to a gorgeous baby boy. And at age 22, I was as single mother, applying for food stamps and trying to figure out how to keep us off the streets.

Christopher showed up on occasion, just to rile Finn up and leave him for me to soothe. After a few months, Finn stopped recognizing him at all, and would scream when Chris tried to hold him. After a few times, he just quit showing up. It was better that way. He was frequently shaky, and I was terrified that he would drop or accidentally hurt Finn. I still loved him, and I wanted us to be a family, but I couldn't put my son in danger. If Chris had been in his right mind, he would have understood.

In the end, I swallowed my pride and called his parents for help. My own parents had passed away already, and I had no one else to try. I knew that neither one of them was particularly fond of me, or the way I had given up on my husband, but I wasn't really asking for anything for myself. They had plenty of money, so I didn't have to feel like I was keeping them from buying what they needed for themselves. Surely they wouldn't deny their own grandchild what he needed?

They didn't. In fact, Ellen Hudson was on the very next plane out, telling me not to worry, that the two of us would come up with a plan together. I spent the day cleaning, scrubbing our tiny apartment until everything shone. Finn, dressed in the little overalls that she had sent him, drowsed sweetly against my shoulder, his old blanket clutched in one hand.

If there's one thing that can be said about my former mother in law, it's that she gets right to business. She refused my offer of tea (left over from that morning) and cookies (generic Oreos) and sat down across from me on the couch. "Well, the three of us are in a mess, aren't we Carole?"

Tears threatened, but I refused to show weakness. "We are in a mess."

"Well, as things stand right now, Christopher is not capable of taking care of himself, much less his son. Tell me what the two of you need."

"If you could just…" I had to swallow my pride to say the next words, but having Finn in my arms reminded me of just why they were so important. "If you could loan my some money, just to get Finn in daycare while I start school. After this semester, I'll qualify for more assistance, so it would just be for a few months. I'll even be glad to pay you back, but I can't support him on what waitressing pays long term. I can barely pay the bills now, and he's only going to get bigger and need more"

As if he knew he was being discussed, Finn stirred against my shoulder and raised his head. He was in a bit of a fearful phase with strangers, and I was terrified that he would start to cry. He didn't. He just smiled shyly and pressed his face into my neck. Ellen reached out. "May I hold him?"

I shifted him to her carefully, and he smiled again. She bounced him gently against her legs and the smile became a rain of giggles. My Finn, always the charmer. I started to relax. We were communicating mother to mother, and whatever her personal feelings for me were, she was going to make sure things were alright for Finn.

"I've discussed the matter with Harrison, and we've come to a decision. Why don't you let us take Finn for right now? That way you can focus on school, and you'll know that he's safe. In return, we'll pay your tuition and all of your living expenses. We'll even send an allotment each month, so you don't have to worry about working. What do you say?"

The words were said in a honey tone, so sweet that it took a minute for me to understand what she was actually saying. She wanted me to sell Finn for a years tuition. She thought that there was a price on my precious babies head. "Are you asking me to sell you my son?"

She backtracked immediately, but not before I saw the truth in her eyes. She didn't like to hear it put so baldly, but yes, she wanted me to sell Finn. "Of course not! All I'm suggesting is that you need a little time to be a young girl, without a baby to distract you. It would only be for a few years, and you could come see us whenever you wanted."

She lived on the other end on the country. If I was lucky, I would scrape up the money to see him a few times a year. I wouldn't be the one to potty train him. I wouldn't make him his dinner and give him his baths and rock him to sleep at night, smelling his sweet baby smell. I reached out. "Ellen, give him back to me." My hands were on him, but she wasn't letting go, and I had a sudden e vision of the two of us treating him like a tug toy, until something terrible happened. But then she let go.

I squeezed his body to mine, way too tightly, and Finn started to wail. His chubby arms wound around my neck and I smothered him with kisses. "Ellen, I will not give you Finn, period. You need to leave."

She did without either a rude comment or trying to change my mind. And, I noticed rather quickly, any offers of help dried up as soon as she found out that Finn wasn't for sale, not for any price.

Later on, after I had lost him, but before I found him again, I would understand her a lot better. There as a deep desire to hang on to the tiniest bit of what you had lost, whether that was an old stuffed dog (though Kurt had appropriated Kitty, and I wasn't about to take it away from him) or your only grandchild.

Ellen never came to visit again. For a few years afterwards, she would send Finn ridiculously expensive gifts. I always dreaded them arriving, because I knew that the day would come when Finn asked why we didn't visit her, and I would be forced to tell him that it was because she had tried to buy him from me when he was a baby, just like he had been an object with a barcode.

Then Christopher died, and she lost interest in Finn completely. My anger had long since cooled, and I might have been open to them having a relationship, but I understood that she was suffering badly, and I would be lying if I didn't admit that there was some relief in there as well.

I didn't attend the funeral, even though I knew where it was. There was no one to watch Finn, and I certainly couldn't take him with me. He already knew that his father had died years before, and I didn't want to deal with the inevitable questions that seeing the coffin would provoke. I had told the lie with the best of intentions, but now I was stuck with it, for good or for bad. I just didn't want Finn thinking that he had done something wrong, or that he wasn't good enough for his father to get clean and make us a family again.

Even without Ellen's help, Finn and I muddled through. I found a teenage girl a few apartments over with a small son of her own. She was happy to watch Finn for a few extra dollars a week. And even if we went without television to save on electricity and I had to dress him entirely in clothing from Goodwill, Finn didn't go hungry. And he never once doubted that his mother loved him, which I'm sure he would have if I had given him up.

I dated a bit as Finn got older, but, with the exception of Darren, the Emerald Dreams God (and we all saw how that turned out) none of them were serious. I tried to keep Finn away from them, for the most part, but he can be quite canny at times, and I'm sure he knew what 'mommy's friend' really meant. And if he didn't, Puck or his other friends would be more then happy to enlighten him.

Then, when it seemed like too much to ask for, I got a second chance. I was at parent-teacher night, girding myself for another set of lectures on how Finn didn't 'apply himself', or 'wasn't living up to his potential'. I was about to grab some generic punch when I felt a hand lightly touch my elbow. "Excuse me? You're Carole Hudson, right?"

My first thought was that this child was much too young to be a high schooler, and must be the youger sibling of a student, but I revised that quickly. This boy was small, but he stood with a self possession that no middle schooler could pull off. "I am."

His smile lit up his face. "Hi! I'm Kurt Hummel. I'm in Glee with Finn. Hang on one second" Then he was gone, bounding across the room.

So this was Kurt Hummel. Now that I got a good look at him, I recognized him from Finn's performances. Finn always seemed a little confused about Kurt, like he wasn't quite sure what to make of him. There was a fondness in his voice when he talked about him, and he respected his performances, but there was always something that stopped just shy of friendly with him. Watching Kurt all but float across the room, I had a suspicion about why that was. This kid was gay with a flaming capital G.

He spoke briefly to a short man, presumably his father, smacked a cookie out of the poor guy's hand, and drug him over to talk to me. Then Kurt himself vanished, leaving the two of us along together.

It wasn't love at first sight. Burt was nowhere near the tall, dark and handsome man from my fantasies. But he made me laugh. And he was kind. And he had a son who obviously adored him, which earned him lots of points in my book. So, when he asked me on a date, I said yes.

One date became two, which became five. Suddenly, I was in a relationship. It wasn't the spontaneous sort of relationship that I had had with Chris, but I wasn't that stupid 19 year old girl any more either. Kurt came over one day while Finn was at basketball and helped me with my clothes and hair. That kid is a regular wizard when it comes to that stuff, and he and I got along well. In fact, the entire thing seemed to be going so well that Burt and I agreed that it was time for us to have a date as a family.

It was a disaster. My usually cheerful, affable Finn decided that that night was the perfect one to act like a sullen brat. He wouldn't even look at Burt, who was being quite generous towards him. In retrospect, the huge deviation from his normal behavior should have been a red flag, but at the time it didn't seem so bad. Then, Burt was able to coax Finn to show a little life, and not like he was on a death march, so Kurt started acting up! It was like having two toddlers instead of two teenagers.

Finn's behavior continued at home. All of the sudden, Burt Hummel was public enemy number one, while Kurt had been promoted to confidant status. If there is one thing in this world I will never understand, it's the thought process of a teenage boy.

I finally got frustrated and yelled at him, only to find out that his aggression was rooted in the same place that most aggression is: fear. He was afraid of losing me, and afraid of losing his image of his father. I comforted him as best I could while still making it clear that I was the parent here, and he did not get to tell me how to run the relationship. He seemed to understand, and things actually settled down for a while.

Then Burt asked me to move in with him, and all hell broke loose. In retrospect, I should have done things far differently. It was unfair and borderline cruel of me to just spring it on him like I did. It was especially unfair because it was so obvious that Kurt had been told. It created a me vs. them dynamic that wasn't how this relationship should start out.

To Finn's credit, he tried so hard to stay polite. He didn't scream, he didn't kick things, he didn't swear. He just looked dead at me and told me that he wasn't ok with what was happening. And I ignored him. I'm ashamed to admit it now, but he was appealing to me for help, and I didn't give it at all. Then Burt stepped in and offered some money as a prize, which Finn had for approximately 4 seconds before Kurt took it, and we were all supposed to be one big happy family from there on out.

What actually happened, at least from Finn's point of view, was that I had told him that his feelings didn't matter. What mattered was me and my new relationship. So, if he wanted to keep my and my love, he would shut his mouth and put up with whatever we threw at him. And Burt's actions told him that he couldn't count on Kurt being corrected, even when he was clearly in the wrong and it happened right in front of the adults. Looking back, it's a lot clearer why the police originally thought Finn ran away from home.

Over the next three days, Finn alternated being moody and hiding himself away from everyone and clinging to me. It was on day three that he poked his head into the bedroom I now shared with Burt (and no, Finn, I didn't miss the way your lip curled when you looked around. You aren't subtle at all.) and asked me to help fix his make-up so that he looked like Gene Simmons. "I could, but wouldn't you rather have Kurt do it? He's much better at stage make-up then I am."

"NO!" The word came out too quickly and too loud. Finn's pupils dilated until the pretty brown was a thin ring. He was afraid.

I pulled him to me, feeling the rapid thud of his heart against my body. "What's wrong, Finn? Did Kurt do something to scare you?"

"No." This time the word was quieter, but his eyes cut down and to the left, a sure sign that he was lying. ""I just…I want you to help me. Not Kurt. You."

I fixed his make-up, gently prodding him to tell me what was wrong. He wouldn't. He just kept staring mournfully at me and shaking his head. I made a mental note to take him mini-golfing that weekend, just the two of us. He needed that reminder that he was my baby, and that he should never feel like he couldn't tell me anything.

The lingering guilt was the reason I agreed to let him go out with Puck that night. When Burt and I got home, I did peek down into the basement, and I swear I saw both boys in their beds. If we had been in the old house, I would have gone over to Finn, just to check on him. He always kicks his blankets off, has ever since he was a baby, and I would tuck him back in and kiss his cheek, just like I had almost every night of his life.

But he shared a room with Kurt now, and Kurt's a light sleeper. I didn't want to disturb him by going to Finn, so I just closed the door and went to bed myself. It's a decision that will probably haunt me for the rest of my life.

On Saturdays, I always try to make a big breakfast for Finn. It's my way of making up for the fact that I usually throw a Poptart at him during the week, when we both have stricter schedules to be kept to.

Usually Finn can smell food like a grizzly bear, and it upstairs and getting in my way by 8, but it was now 8:45 and there was no sign of him. I was starting to suspect that his night out with Noah hadn't been as innocent as he had made it sound like, and my boy was fighting off a miserable hangover. I sighed heavily and went back downstairs to check on him. Kurt was buried under his pillow, hiding from the daylight that was now flooding the basement. In the better light, it was very easy to see that Finn was nowhere to be found.

My stomach rolled. The basement door was right off of the kitchen. Either Finn had snuck out very early this morning, which was all but impossible, or he had never come home last night.

Then I had to laugh. Of course Finn hadn't come home last night. He and Noah had gotten drunk, and, rather then face my wrath, had drug themselves to Noah's house instead. Clever, but not clever enough. Finn was about to be in a world of hurt, starting right now.

What I couldn't know, of course, was the Finn was already in a world of hurt, far more then I had ever dreamed of.

Nancy grumbled when I called the house phone. "Hello, Carole. Did our two little hellions end up there last night? Tell Noah that he's supposed to be watching his sister today."

The sick feeling returned, worse then ever. "They aren't with you? Because they aren't here."

She gave a heavy sigh. "Puck, really! This is the third time he's taken off in three months. I'm sorry he drug Finn along this time, though."

I was polite enough not to mention that her son's taking off always seemed to coincide with her getting a new boyfriend. I was upset enough to blurt it out, but I was having trouble making my mouth do anything except tell her goodbye and to call if the boys showed up.

I woke Burt, who woke Kurt, and we all set to calling around to find out wayward kid. No one had seen him. Over Burt's objections, I called the police. I knew my boy, and I knew that he hadn't run away.

For two days we all hung in the balance. If Finn had run, it wouldn't take long for him to see the error of his ways and call home, begging to be allowed back in. If he called, I had already told myself that I wouldn't be angry. I would rush to get him, wherever he was, and the four of us would have long, serious, talk about what was happening and how we were going to fix the problems between us. If I had to move out with Finn, and take things a little slower with Burt, I could do that. Finn needed to be my only priority right now.

Then they found Noah's body. Finn was gone. He wasn't going to call from Columbus, tired and hungry and ready to come home. He wasn't having a tantrum. He wasn't trying to pull one over on us. He was gone. Forever.

But not dead. That was one thing I was always sure of. If Finn was dead, I would know it. He was just….not here, and somehow, that was almost worse. Nancy had to bury her only son at 17 years old, but at least she knew where he was. All I had to hold on to was a hope that was getting dimmer by the day.

I couldn't function. I wasn't much a nurse at the hospital, I wasn't a partner to Burt, and I wasn't a mother to Kurt, who needed one more then ever. But I just couldn't. Suddenly, I was one of those mothers.

Don't pretend that you don't know what I mean, either. Every time you hear about a mother who has something terrible happen to their child, whether the kid is snatched by the other parent, burned in the bathtub, or falls down the stairs and breaks an arm. You're sympathetic, of course. You cook a casserole, and you offer to babysit the unaffected children, but, deep down, you can't help but feel a little smug. Those things would never happen to your baby. You put up gates and never leave them unattended in the bathtub. You made sure that your children understood stranger danger, and that no always means no. What sort of mother lets that happen?

Finn knew not to play with guns, or take drugs, or do any other number of foolish things. Yet I never thought to tell him not to stop a car for a woman in distress, especially one holding a baby. I protected Finn for almost 17 years, and all it took was two minutes for none of that to matter. What kind of mother lets her child be snatched by pedophiles? The kind that's too wrapped up in her new boyfriend to care.

When the pictures came, I didn't hesitate for a second. This was my son, and I would do whatever it took to get to him. If I had to sell myself on the street corner to get the money together, I would do it without a second thought.

The irony, of course, was that while I was in the air, headed for New Mexico, Finn was on the ground, going back to Lima. Somewhere, we crossed each other, each trying to get to the place where we thought the other was.

It got to be Kurt who found Finn. Kurt who held him first, and got him to the hospital, and stayed with him for those first 24 hours, until Burt and I could get home. I'm incredibly grateful to him, more then I can possibly express. A little jealous, that he was there for Finn when I couldn't be, but grateful none the less.

When we were finally reunited, I was shocked by how much he had changed in just four months. Physically, his body was hard and tense. He didn't mold to me like he used to, always keeping himself a little apart. Emotionally he boomeranged from being aloof and cold to clinging to me like a much younger child.

And he didn't talk. Finn talked early, and chattered happily to me for the next 15 years. If he couldn't command my attention, he would just as happily prattle away to his toys. As he got older, he was the kid who was always singing, especially when he didn't think I could hear him. His total silence was unnerving, but instinct told me that pushing him would be the completely wrong thing to do. Before I wouldn't have hesitated, but his needs were different now.

The problem was figuring out what he did need. Trauma had forced him to grow up in some ways. He did his own laundry and made his own lunches. I didn't have to carp at him about cleaning his room or make sure he showered every single day. He studied with Kurt and didn't complain about it. Most of the time, he was very mature and responsible.

But sometimes he wasn't. He suddenly wanted things that he hadn't asked for in years. Some of them were easy to grant. It was a very simple thing to set aside a half hour and read to him at night, even though he was more then capable of doing it on his own. Old favorites, too, like the Narnia books or the Wizard of Oz. Or he wanted me to rub his back before he fell asleep, which had stopped when he was 11.

Other things weren't so easy. He wanted to sleep with me, which just wasn't appropriate. The food thing made me crazy, and was a power play to boot, so I had to stop myself from catering to his every whim.

Then there were the things that were just heartbreaking. No, Finn wasn't talking. He hadn't done anything to indicate who had had him, or what they had done to him, but I'm not a stupid woman. I know what it means when two people steal a teenager, then keep him hidden for four months. I know why Finn freaks out the minute Burt so much as tries to make eye contact with him. So many times, I wanted to just pack Finn up and take him back to the old house. Burt was a big boy, and I knew that he would understand why.

But Kurt wouldn't. Sure, he would pretend to, and even that he didn't really care that we were gone, but I would know better. He's a smart boy, but he's so highly strung. Much more so then Finn, even knowing how Finn is these days. If I walk away from Kurt now, he'll spend the rest of his life believing that something is wrong with him, that he's the one who makes mothers leave. I love the boy, and I won't do that to him.

Plus, Finn has become so attached to Kurt. At first I was unsure, but the two of them really have bonded. Kurt helps Finn with his schoolwork almost every night, and they are constantly hanging around each other. Once they were able to form a relationship, a lot of the jealousy and over possessiveness of their biological parent settled down. Finn tells me now that he's happy that Kurt and I get along, and I don't sense a lie anywhere in that. Finn isn't bonded to Burt in the slightest, but maybe, if the way things went today is any indication, it's not too late. Maybe it will never be perfect, but Finn seems to have accepted that Burt is a part of both of our lives now, and can be at least counted on to not go after him for no reason. Sad is it is, that's huge progress.

Now things are changing again, in a totally unexpected way. I know Finn. I'm his mother and I know how he thinks. Which is why I know that he thinks he's in love with Kurt. Is he? That's the part I don't know, and that's why I'm not sure what I should be doing now.

In all of his 17 years, Finn has never shown even the slightest interest in men. He plays sports and rolls around in the mud, and can't match his own clothing to save his life. And yes, I know full well that gay men do all of those things as well. That for every type of straight man in the world, there is a man exactly like him, just attracted to his own gender.

It just isn't what I wanted for Finn. Not because there is anything wrong with being gay, because there isn't. Love is wonderful, no matter if you find it with your own gender, or the father one of your child's classmates. But there's this moment, one right after they put your new baby in your arms, that you look at them and pray that they will always have an easy life, that nothing will happen that makes them a target for other people. Unfortunately, there are few things in this world that create a bigger bulls eye then being a gay boy in a public high school.

Of course, it wasn't going to take long for word of everything that had happened to Finn to get out, and then there were be more then enough material for him to be tormented for the rest of his life. A little homosexuality would look like nothing in comparison.

I didn't bring it up to Finn directly. Doing so would horrify him if he wasn't having the feelings I thought he was, and humiliate him if he was. So I gently reminded him that I loved him, no matter what happened, and what choices he made in the world. He nodded and told me how much he loved me. After six months of not being able to hear those words, it was impossible to explain how wonderful they were.

Since confronting Finn was out of the question, I turned my attention to Kurt. If Finn had been in love with a girl, pseudo-stepsister or no, I would have wanted to speak to her and feel out her intentions. After Quinn, it was obvious that the boy needed a little help with figuring out who loved him and who was using him. And if he couldn't do it for himself, well, that was what mothers are for.

Just so we're completely clear, I did not ask Kurt to go shopping with me in order to grill him and make him miserable. I want Kurt to be just as happy as Finn. I would be lying if I didn't admit that there was a part of me that wished that he didn't have to find that happiness with Finn, but that's neither here nor there. I couldn't make Finn's choices for him, but that didn't mean I was willing to be kept completely in the dark.

I asked him to go shopping because it was an activity that we both enjoyed, and I was still feeling the sting of residual guilt over just how neglected Kurt had been while we were chasing Finn from one side of the country to the other. And, I had to admit, that boy knew how to find clothing that made me look more beautiful then I had at 20. Who knew that a simple cut could make everything look different?

Ok, I might have wanted him out of the house when I asked him, for two main reasons. First of all, I didn't want Finn to know what was being discussed. You wouldn't believe that someone as large and as generally clumsy as Finn is could go unnoticed in a room, but he can. Sometimes I think he inherited a chameleon gene from Christopher, along with his height and those cinnamon colored eyes that make all the girls (and boys, apparently) fall for him.

The other reason had nothing to do with Finn at all. I just didn't want Kurt to be able to run away from me. He's a smart one, and if he can avoid the question, he will. But I had to know. If Kurt had good intentions towards Finn, I was inclined to let this play itself out.

I certainly hadn't meant to make him cry, though I've come to the conclusion that that isn't a difficult thing to do. He's just a sensitive boy, always worrying about everything. So I backed up a little, reminding him that I wasn't angry with him, but that I needed help understanding what was happening.

I have to hand it to him; Kurt can be a realist when he needs to. He wanted Finn, that much would have been clear to a blind man. But he was willing to put Finn first, even if Finn wanted nothing more then friendship. And really, wasn't that was love was? Putting someone else above yourself? So I told him he could try with Finn.

I still could have said no, of course. No, they weren't brothers in the physical sense. I wasn't married to Burt, and, unless either Burt or I were to adopt the others child, they weren't brothers in the legal sense either. But other people would see it as creepy and wrong. Add in the number of people who would say it was creepy and wrong because they were both boys, and it seemed like a disaster before things even got started.

But that wasn't for me to decide. Me forcing Finn to not be with Kurt was no different then those monsters forcing him to be with them. I had already messed up by invalidating his feelings once, I wouldn't do it again.

So now I played the waiting game. I didn't expect Kurt to come to me for anything, but I thought that Finn would at least give me a clue. But he didn't. He just went on being Finn, only more inscrutable. I meanwhile, was dying of curiosity. Had Kurt approached him? Had he turned him down? Or were the two of them carrying on a relationship right under my nose? Somehow, I doubted that. As I've said before, Finn has many lovely qualities, but subtlety is not one of them.

I even considered that he and Kurt's little tiff at today's therapy session was a lovers spat, but dismissed it quickly. What had happened was exactly what it looked like. Two boys who had never had to share anything, especially their parent, suddenly being forced to share almost everything.

Their spat also highlighted the fact that the only thing Burt and I were on the same page about was that we loved the boys and loved each other. We didn't agree on how to discipline, how much freedom each boy should be given, or how school problems should be handled. I had just assumed that this would fall into place, but the therapist had made it clear that that wasn't going to happen. It was something that would have to be addressed, but not right now. Not where the boys could hear.

I was ready to make them a snack, but Kurt grabbed Finn's arm and drug him downstairs without a second look. This was it, their big moment. I squeezed my eyes shut, sending a quick prayer to the man upstairs that, whatever happened, whatever each one of them chose, they were both willing to live with the consequences.