The boy sitting at the bedside turned his head towards the door. He looked tired, the dark rings under his eyes appearing even darker against his fair skin. Will Schuester was standing in the doorway looking slightly worried, but he nevertheless smiled encouragingly.

"Kurt, there are some people here who want to talk to you. Could you come for a minute?"

Kurt nodded quietly before turning his attention back to the figure on the hospital bed. The tall man seemed to be sleeping peacefully, but the many tubes going in and out of his body told a different story. It had been 10 days since Burt Hummel had had a heart attack, and he was yet to wake up from his coma. Gently, the boy pressed a kiss on his dad's forehead before turning to the door and walking out slowly. Everything in his posture screamed fatigue, and exhaustion, and something else which was harder to describe, something that was noticed by its absence rather than its presence - there seemed to be only little hope left in him. The man in the doorway put his hand on the boy's shoulder as he passed, and received a small but grateful smile in return for his gesture.

Out in the hall, two women stood waiting, and the older one held out her hand to greet him.

"Kurt Hummel? My name is Grace Mayfayer, this is my colleague Julia Cleever, and we work with the Child Welfare Agency. We would like to talk to you quietly, if that is possible?"

Kurt took the hand, and despite his general appearance, Grace Mayfayer found his handshake to be firm. She led him to the end of the hall, where some couches had been placed together in a failed attempt to create a cosy corner. The two women sat down on a couch, and Kurt took place opposite them, Mr. Schuester sitting next to him.

Kurt eyed the women inquisitively as they put down their briefcases and took out a number of papers and folders. The women who had introduced herself as Grace was a tall, somewhat sturdy looking person with an impressive blonde perm that was held up with such an amount of hairspray Kurt was sure he could break an egg on it. Her younger colleague had long, sleek, black hair which hung loosely over her shoulders and which, together with the thick-rimmed glasses she wore, gave her a distinctly nerdy appearance. Unfortunately her washed-out jeans and the 3-year old top she wore above it didn't flatter her much, thus letting a beautiful opportunity at nerdy chique go to waste. It was a pity, Kurt thought, she could've been pretty if she tried.

"So, Ms. Mayfayer, Ms. Cleever, how can I help you?"

"Well, Kurt...," Grace Mayfayer hesitated. "Can I call you Kurt?"

The boy nodded almost imperceptibly, and the woman continued.

"Kurt, could you tell us who is currently taking care of you?"

Kurt looked genuinely surprised at the question, and shot a quick glance at Mr. Schuester before he replied.

"Why, me, of course."

"I mean, who prepares your meals, does the laundry, cleans your room, ... ?"

"As I said," he replied impatiently, "I do. I have done all those things since my mother died - my dad can't cook to save his life, and there is no way I am letting him wash my Versace jeans and silk shirts. May I ask why you want to know?"

The two women across the table exchanged a glance, and the younger one continued.

"It has been brought to our attention, Kurt, that you, as a minor, are currently living alone with no parent or guardian. This... I'm afraid this is against regulations. Do you have any relatives, aunts, grandparents, ... who could take you in?"

Kurt slowly shook his head, not liking the direction this conversation was going.

"It's just me and my dad. It always has been. And we're doing just fine."

Julia Cleever hesitated before she continued.

"Kurt, with your dad currently... being in the state he is in, he can obviously not take care of you properly. You need an adult, a guardian, to take responsibility for you."

"I take responsibility for myself just fine, thank you very much," Kurt replied, somewhat agitatedly, before Mr. Schuester took the word.

"Ms. Cleever, Ms. Mayfayer, I would gladly take responsibility for Kurt, if that is the problem." Will Schuester quickly shot a glance at Kurt, who had already opened his mouth in protest. "Kurt is a very gentle and kind person, and I would be happy to welcome him in my house."

"And you are?", Julia Cleever asked.

"Will. Will Schuester. I am the director of New Directions, Kurt's Glee Club at school."

"And do you have a written form by Burt Hummel assigning you guardianship over his son?"

Mr. Schuester hesitated.

"Well, no, but ... ."

"Then I am sorry but in that case I'm afraid we can't let you take Kurt home."

"Well, I am very sorry to interrupt this little chit chat," Kurt came between them, "and thank you Mr. Schue for the offer, but I'm doing perfectly fine on my own, I don't need anyone to take care of me. My dad will wake up any time now, and then he'll come home with me."

"Kurt...," Ms. Mayfayer was clearly weighing her words, "what if your dad doesn't wake up?"

"He will. Soon."

It didn't sound nearly as convincing as he'd hoped it would.

"He might. Or he might not. Meanwhile, what will happen with the garage? Where will you get the money to pay the medical bills? Get a job? Will you be able to combine with school?"

"Then what do you suggest I do?", Kurt asked, his face now flushed at the idea of these women deeming him not mature enough to take care of himself. "Are you going to place me in foster care or something?"

"Well, yes, that..."

"No." Kurt's tone didn't leave any room for contradiction. "No. I am not going into foster care. I am not going to a home and share a room with 5 other boys who have no idea of the importance of skin care and beauty sleep. I am not. Mr. Shue, tell them I am not doing that, I will not do that!"

The boy looked at Mr. Schuester exasperatedly, panic now in his eyes. His room had always been his sanctuary, his safe haven. However much he had been teased, or bullied, or mistreated, his room had always been the one place where he could be himself, where he could find quiet and peace if everything else seemed to explode around him. Being sent to a foster home, spending 24/7 with other kids without his own room to go back to, seemed like a punishment he did not deserve.

"Isn't there any way around this?" Will Schuester looked pleadingly at the two women in front of him. "Kurt really is a model student, he is at the top of his class, and he's a much appreciated member of ... "

"Mr. Schuester," Ms. Mayfayer said, "I understand what you are trying to do, and I am sure Kurt appreciates it, but I'm afraid we cannot change the law on a case-to-case basis. In the absence of an acting guardian for Kurt, he becomes our responsibility, and we cannot just leave him with the first person who offers to step up, however sincere that offer is. I am sure you understand."

She looked at him intently before turning her attention back to Kurt.

"Kurt, we have found a foster family that would gladly take you in as long as your dad remains here in the hospital."

Kurt would have snorted if he had been the snorting type of person, but he settled for a haughty flick of his head, crossing his arms as he leaned back in the couch. Sure a foster family might give him his own room, but he still felt rebellion rise at the idea of two complete foreigners taking him in and playing happy family.

"I'm still not going. You can't make me go. I'll have to change schools and I want to stay at McKinley, I... I'm happy there. "

Will Schuester looked sideways at Kurt, somewhat surprised by the last sentence. Kurt stating so bluntly he was actually happy at McKinley was definitely an improvement over last year, when the boy had settled for simply surviving his high school days one period at a time.

"As a matter of fact, we can make you go." There was a sudden sharp edge to Grace Mayfayer's tone. She was a woman of principle and although she clearly preferred things to be arranged peacefully, there was no doubt in her voice that if it didn't work out the easy way, it would be made to work out the hard way. "But this family lives in Kenton. It is not as close as you live now, obviously, but it is still only a 40 minute commute. You could stay at McKinley if you wanted to."

Kurt relaxed a little, but the apprehension was still apparent on his face.

"So you expect me to move in with people I have never even met? Do they have other kids? What if I don't like them? What if they don't like me? I'm out and proud, you know."

He looked at Grace Mayfayer challengingly.

"I can assure you they are accepting, open-minded people," the woman replied, "and they have one son, who is your age, I believe. He attends private school. They have been in our foster program for a long time, and have taken in several children on previous occasions. I have heard none of them complain about their stay there."

Kurt didn't say anything, and sat staring at the coffee table. Despite himself, he felt his defenses crumble down quickly. He didn't feel he needed replacement parents to take care of him, but on the other hand... it would be nice to come home and just... be taken care of, for once. It had been a rough couple of weeks, and he desperately longed for a break, a pause.

"Kurt... I know this is hard... but I really believe this is the best for everyone involved."

Kurt looked up.

"Will I get to see my dad, still?"

Grace Mayfayer smiled. "Of course. You can visit as often as you like. Outside school hours, obviously."

"Then they better have a big cupboard, because I'm not leaving any of my wardrobe behind."

-o0o-

Later that week, as they pulled up to the house, Kurt felt the anxiousness swell up in his throat. He tried to swallow it away, but if anything, it only grew bigger.

"So, here we are!"

Julia Cleever looked sideways to the boy sitting next to her in the passenger's seat. He held his shoulders straight and his chin high, but she suspected, more than she could see, the nervousness behind the mask.

"Are you scared?"

He took a moment before he looked back at her and replied.

"No. No, I'm not scared. Anxious, maybe, and nervous, but not scared. I'm going to a public high school, it doesn't get scarier than that."

Julia couldn't help but smile. Kurt Hummel would always find the humor in a situation, she had learned that much.

"Ok then! Let's get you settled in your home away from home!"

Inside, Kurt was grateful that Julia hadn't referred to the people he was going to meet as "your new family" or, even worse, "your new parents". He had a parent and he was quite happy with him thank-you-very-much, there was no way these people were going to be anything but a legal obstacle to overcome.

He got out of the car and looked at the house. It wasn't big. It was huge. There were no less than 4 cars on the driveway, and still there was room for his own. The front door was flanked by 6 windows on each side, and on both ends of the house, a small tower was built (Kurt grinned to himself when he imagined himself living in one of them, Rapunzel style), adding another 2 floors to the 3-floor building. This size of house and only one son? They either had a lot of staff or the son was a heavily spoiled brat with a separate room for each of his Xbox games. He couldn't imagine why people this rich would bother with foster care - it was probably their way of "giving back", which in their mind would translate in taking in a poor kid and then letting their personnel look after him/her. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all... .

"Kurt, I really don't know why you need all this stuff." Julia shook her head as she finished unloading the trunk. "What is all that?"

"Oh, you know," he said mindlessly, "skin care, cosmetics, pajamas, clothes, hats, scarfs, ... my bedazzler, obviously. Just the basics. I'll bring the rest later this week, I guess."

He took two of the suitcases and carried them graciously to the front door, although Julia could've sworn they weighed a ton each when she unloaded them. She swung a backpack over her shoulder and took the remaining suitcases, feeling much like a donkey as she followed Kurt over the path to the house.

"Ready?" she asked, when they found themselves at the front door.

"Ready," he said.

-o0o-

"Kevin! Kevin!"

Barbara Anderson hurried towards the door. She quickly checked herself in the mirror, adjusting one of her blonde curls and preening her blouse carefully. She knew 17-year old boys were not likely to be bothered by how she looked (despite looking quite stunning for a woman her age, she had passed the point of being interesting to teenage boys), but she still wanted to make a good impression.

"Kevin! Kevin, the boy's here, I'll need you to carry his luggage!"

She arrived at the front door, taking a last deep sigh before she reached out for the knob and opened the door.

In front of her stood the short, dark-haired woman she'd gotten to know as Julia Cleever, her main contact person at the Child Welfare Association. And next to her stood... a teenage boy. He was slightly taller than Julia, with brown, silky hair that fell lightly over his forehead. His frame was thin, as if lately he hadn't eaten properly, and his pale skin stood out against the black outfit he'd chosen for the occasion: a tight jeans, wool turtleneck and a stylish red-buttoned trench coat which may or may not have been an original Marc Jacobs. She had never been happier for the time she'd spent on her own outfit, because her trained eye saw quickly that it would be a challenge to look fabulous when this boy was around.

"Hi Barbara!" Julia said happily, "So, this is Kurt - Kurt, I'd like you to meet Barbara Anderson."

Kurt held out his hand and forced himself to speak. "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Anderson."

"Oh please, call me Barbara, everyone does! Unless you want to make me feel old, of course." She winked at Kurt, who, to his own surprise, couldn't come up with a witty comeback. He might just like this woman, he thought.

"So, Kevin will bring up your bags, I've had the north tower prepared for you, if that's alright? It's a bit separate from the rest of the house, but I thought you might... you know... care for your privacy?"

Kurt just smiled, not really knowing what to say, and instead taking in the stunning view of the entrance hall. There was a long, winding stairs on the right, and the wall on the left was completely covered in mirrors. Long, round, square and oddly-shaped mirrors, all in different sizes, but all captured in a heavy, golden frame. It made the room look even bigger than it already was.

He was vaguely aware of a skinny, balding man taking over his suitcases, and being dragged to the living room. He heard Mrs. Anderson and Julia talk to each other but barely listened to what they were saying, his attention focused on the furniture and the paintings that were stuffed in the living room with such enthusiasm there was barely any room left to walk. If he ever were to visit Versailles, he thought, it would look very much like this.
Suddenly, he heard his name.

"Kurt? Kurt, are you alright?"

He turned his gaze and looked at Barbara.

"Would you... would you mind if I excuse myself? I'd like to make sure... Kevin... treats my clothes with the proper care."

He thought he saw a glimpse of worry pass in Barbara's eyes, but she let it pass and nodded.

"Of course, Kurt. Just, up the stairs, second floor, at the end of the hallway, the blue door. Those are your rooms."

He smiled gratefully and set off to the majestic staircase he'd seen previously. He was so engulfed in his own thoughts, that he started on the stairs without even looking, and promptly bumped into someone coming down.

"Wo-how watch out!"

He looked up, and startled.

Two big hazel eyes looked down on him, twinkling with excitement. A big, goofy grin was spread over a friendly face, lined with a bunch of the most unruly curls he had ever seen.

"Oh, sorry, I'm so sorry. I... I'm new here. I'm... Kurt."

Kurt held out his hand, cursing himself. I'm new here. Really, Hummel, really?

But the other boy didn't seem to have noticed anything.

"Hi Kurt," he said, as he took the other boy's hand. "I'm Blaine. Blaine Anderson."