Burt stretched his legs in front of him as he sank backwards onto the sofa. He was looking forward to a night alone with nothing but a cold beer and the game to distract him; Carole was on a night-shift at the hospital and Kurt and Finn had left that morning for New York. Burt loved his family with all his heart, but he had to admit, the thought of some peace and quiet was very appealing.

---

Burt jolted awake as music started blaring from across the room. It took him a few moments to realise he had fallen asleep in front of the television, before he saw the phone on the coffee table, Kurt's if the song - something about teenagers and dreaming - was anything to go by. He laughed softly to himself; Kurt was not going to be happy about spending a whole weekend without his phone. He eased himself up from the couch and looked at the name on the phone. Blaine. He should have known, they were hardly ever off the phone to each other these days, and if he had to hear the phrase 'And Blaine said…' one more time he was just going to scream. He briefly considered rejecting the call, but thought it would be too cruel to let Blaine think Kurt was ignoring his calls for a whole weekend. He pressed accept and lifted the phone to his ear.

"Hello? Blaine?"

"K…Kurt? Is…Is that you?" The voice was timid and unsure, nothing like the self-assured delivery he was used to.

"No Blaine, sorry, it's Burt. Kurt left his phone at home and he's gone away for the weekend."

"Oh" How could that one word, one shaky exhalation sound so dejected? "New York, yeh, I...I forgot. I'm sorry. I didn't…I won't…sorry, I should go" Burt looked at the 'call ended' sign that flashed across the screen.

'Well that was odd' he thought to himself.

Burt really didn't know what to make of Blaine Anderson. He was certainly a polite, well-spoken boy, and Kurt had grown in confidence since meeting him, but more than once Kurt had come home sullen and clearly hurt about something or other to do with Blaine, and after that Valentine's day fiasco he'd had to sit with him all evening as he cried about being 'perpetually alone', 'ugly' and 'unlovable'. He knew his son had a penchant for melodrama, but he couldn't help but feel that this Blaine kid wasn't exactly doing much to put him off, probably enjoying the attention a bit too much. Maybe it would do them both good to spend some time apart.

He was shocked out of his reverie as the phone in his hand once again sprang into life and 'Blaine' lit up the screen. Burt gave the phone a suspicious look before taking the call.

"Blaine?" No-answer. "Blaine, are you there?" Burt was just about to turn the phone off, assuming Blaine must have rung again by accident, when…

"Mr. Hummel? I..." Silence, again.

"Blaine, did you need something?"

"I'm sorry, Mr...I mean...Sir...I..." Burt felt an odd sensation settle in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong; this wasn't like Blaine. Something was very wrong.

"Blaine, are you ok, is something the matter?"

" I think…can you…" He could here the boy's breaths get faster and harsher, sounding more and more panicked. 'Shit.' He thought to himself. 'What the hell is going on here?'

" Blaine, you need to calm down. Can you hear me, Blaine?"

"Y..y..yes"

"Ok, you need to breath slowly, Blaine, ok? Deep breaths, in and out" He listened for a few seconds as Blaine's breathing slowly came under control, and let out his own sigh of relief. It was short-lived.

"Mr Hummel, I need help. Please."

---

Burt forced himself to concentrate on driving, to stop his thoughts from running away with themselves and jumping to conclusions about what the hell he was getting himself into. He glanced at the dashboard – it was 23:45 and he was driving to one of the roughest parts of Lima to pick up a kid he barely knew. Despite his best attempts, Burt couldn't stop himself from replaying their phone conversation over and over in his mind; the shaky, stuttering words, the hitching breath.

---

'Help? Blaine are you hurt? Do you need me to call an ambulance?

'No.' The response was instant and almost shouted back at him. 'No, please, I'm not hurt. I just…my car…I can't get home.'

Burt had his keys in his hand and his arm half into his jacket before he even knew what he was doing.

'Ok, Blaine I'm going to pick you. Where are you?'

'Um…I'm not sure. I just ran, I...I didn't see where I was going. I'm sorry.
'
'Ran?' The alarm bells that were already ringing in Burt's head jumped an octave, but he made a conscious effort to keep his voice calm.

'It's alright Blaine. What can you see? Anything that might give me an idea?'

'I…I think I'm on a high street. There…there's a bike shop, and a caf� next to it with a yellow awning.'

'Radleigh's Bikes? Is the window covered with cardboard?'

'Yes, yes, that's it.'

'Shit, Blaine. What the hell are you doing in that neighbourhood?' He blurted out the reprimand before he could stop himself, and could almost sense the boy on the other end of the phone flinch at his raised voice. 'I'm sorry, Blaine, I shouldn't have said that. It's fine. I'm coming to get you now. Are you somewhere safe?'

'I'm at the bus stop opposite the shops.'

'Ok, stay right where you are. I'll be there a soon as I can'

---

23:53. He eased his foot down on the accelerator.

Burt finally reached his turning and slowed down, peering into the dark ahead of him. At last he saw him in the distance, a tiny figure sitting hunched over with his hands wrapped tightly around himself. As he pulled up under a street lamp and Blaine raised his head to look at him, Burt heard a soft gasp, that he distantly recognised must have been his own.

With his hair messed up, clothes ripped and a growing bruise on his face, Burt could see that Blaine was barely holding himself together. 'It doesn't really matter whether he and Kurt ever end up dating,' he thought to himself, 'I'm pretty sure I'm permanently involved in this kid's life now'.