“I'm not telling you.  Stop asking lady.” Kurt insisted from his hospital bed.  The social worker had come around for the upteenth time in the past few days and once again tried to get his last name and background information out of him.  He was too weak to refuse having needles stabbed in him, too weak to get to the bathroom without help (and damn did having a catheter jammed in him hurt like a bitch), and too weak to lift his head up most of the time, but he wasn't too weak to refuse to give out information she had no right to.

Besides, the last thing he wanted right now was to have his dad contacted and showing up after Kurt had ditched him after graduation.  This was not the way Kurt wanted their reunion to go… if they ever did have one that was.  He didn't want to be seen as fallen and pathetic, reduced to exactly what his dad had warned him would happen if he continued down the dark path he had gone on.

If there was one thing he could control right now, it was going to be his own information.

The tiny woman sighed and flipped over several papers on her clipboard from where she was seated in the chair beside the bed.  “Fine.  At least for now.  We do need to discuss what happened when the police were here though and also discuss your future after you're released.”

Kurt had clammed up when the cops showed up.  They had shoved pictures in his face of Big G and Cole and even one of girls from the house, all with the telltale markings and labels that told Kurt they had been arrested.  He knew better than to say anything though.  If they had been released or had contacts on the outside and found out he was alive and said anything against him, the small miracle of him being found alive would be short lived.

The social worker scolded him for it, saying she owed it to other kids like himself to speak out against his abusers.  He owed it to himself, she said, to his own conscience.  She was a public cronie though.  She didn't know what it was like out there.  She didn't understand him or what he had been living through.  You just didn't rat out people who were above you.  It was certain suicide.

“I'm not saying anything to the cops.” Kurt reaffirmed to her, making her sigh in agitation.

“Fine.  Then once you're out of here.  Let's talk about that.”

“Ideally a nice penthouse in Manhattan would be nice.  I'm thinking one of those that has the pool and gym room… preferably with a sauna.  I'd also like my own personal masseuse.”

“You're a riot Kurt… now really….”

She detailed the different options available to him.  Different types of group homes and counselling options, the different supports he could access and things he might want to do.  Every now and then she brought up how he would need to let someone know his vital information so he would be able to get the government documents needed in order to go to school or get a job.

He tuned her out.

“Anyhow… those are some of the options available to you and while we know you'll be in hospital for awhile longer yet, I really need to know what you want to do soon since the waiting list for a lot of these public programs are long and it's better if we reduce the time between here and getting into a group home to increase your success….”

“Success at what?” Kurt grumbled, reaching over and fumbling as he tried to get his water cup.  He was so uncoordinated that they had a lid on the damned cup with a straw coming out of it so he didn't spill it everywhere.

Wes came through the door then.  Kurt had been visited by him and Blaine frequently since he awoke.  Asian Trust Fund was the name Kurt had affectionately given him.  

“How about success at getting to pee without the help of a tube man?” The man chuckled, having obviously heard the conversation as he entered.  He tossed his jacket down on the table by the door and walked over, nodding to the social worker who gave him a look of relief that wasn't lost on Kurt.  He knew she was tired of dealing with him already. Why the hell wouldn't she be?

Kurt rolled his eyes a little at Wes' humor.  It might have been funny had he really not needed to rely on a tube, as mentioned.  

“Where's the kid?”

“Blaine is on a date.  He'll be by tomorrow.”

Kurt nodded.  For as much as he had tried to push the kid away, he was grateful he had someone to talk to while he was stuck in bed - at least, aside from a pushy bureaucratic busy body trying to convince him that getting a minimum wage job and living with a bunch of ex-addicts was success.

“So.  Going over the options I gathered?” Wes asked, getting a nod from the social worker.  “Out of curiosity, what exactly is the success rate on those?”

She blew into an explanation of the different programs for Wes, different to how she had explained them to Kurt.  Apparently the success rates were different depending on the drugs used prior, the frequency of use, the connection to users the person had while in the program, the level of support…..  Kurt's brain hurt as he tried to listen in, though eventually he just ended up tuning it out just as he had before.  

Statistics were never his strongest area in math.

Wes however seemed deeply invested in the conversation.  Kurt had learned that the guy was one of Blaine's best friends from childhood, was studying medicine, worked at one of those clinics that some of the whores about town insisted he should go to regularly to get free condoms, and had a low tolerance for bullshit.

He would let Wes listen and then let him tell Kurt what he really thought of all this group home bullshit.

When Wes and the social worker were done talking, she clicked her pen so it retracted and stood up.  “Well I need to move onto the next patient.  Talk to you tomorrow Kurt.  Wes, always a pleasure.”

“Thank fucking god.”  Kurt noted as she left and Wes took over the chair by him.  “All she does is fucking lecture.  It's like having a dad again.”

Wes cocked an eyebrow for a second and then let it fall back, “Right.  So.  How was today?  Anything good on TV?”

Kurt shrugged.  He napped, ignored the cops when they came by, watched a special on ants since he couldn't change the channel, napped again, was subjected to a sponge bath by what had to be the oldest and grumpiest woman ever to be a nurse, watch a show about gene modification until he drifted off again, and then was harassed by the social worker.  

“Well, how about prognosis?  Have the doctors said anything new?”

Kurt shrugged again.  “Something about getting a physical therapist in here so I don't get all stiff… as if I could with this thing up me…”  He snickered at himself and Wes also gave him a chuckle.  “I don't know.  I can only listen for so long….”

“Well you have been on a lot of pain medicine that would affect your ability to concentrate.”

“You think they would know that seeing as how they're the ones giving me the shit.”

Wes nodded, “Anyhow.  You look like you've got more colour to you today.  What was on the menu?”

“I think it was potatoes and roast… couldn't really tell… they tasted the same and were almost the same colour.”  Kurt wished he was joking on that matter.

“Mmhmm… and your social worker?  What did she have to say?”

“Well… like I said… she's a naggy bitch.  I don't know how she can expect me to make any decisions about that shit….”

“Well for starters…”  Wes leaned forward, “You're right.  The programs are shit.  If you actually do want to get clean, those places aren't the way to do it.  Too many guys in there with too many links to drugs and all it takes it one guy going weak and grabbing some stuff and then everyone in there has it.”

“Then why the shit is she suggesting it?!”

“Because you don't have what we in the industry like to call home supports.  That's what would help you… “

“So… family n' shit.”

“Yes.  Family.  I know you've been pushing away from it, but if there was someone even I could get in touch with to help you out or that you could go to that would be safe and help you….”

Kurt shook his head.  He wasn't going back.  Not like this.  Not as a failure.

Wes sighed, “Okay then… well… there's the group homes and then there's another idea I have but I have to pass it through Blaine first to see if he's okay with it.”

“What, like, living with him?”

“Something like that yah…”

“I don't want to go back to that street.”

“You wouldn't be on the street Kurt.  You'd be somewhere that someone could keep an eye on you and you'd be safe.”

“I don't need a new dad.”

“Blaine is hardly what I'd call dad material Kurt.  He has a dog and the thing is already getting fat from how much he spoils it.  I'm just trying to think of a place where you might be safe, where there's a spare room, and with one of the two people in this world you seem to know.”

“It's a stupid idea.”

“You have a better one?”

Kurt pressed his lips together, his nose wrinkling up as he tried to think.  It was hard to concentrate though, like Wes said, and it's not like there was anyone aside from Wes and Blaine he could trust right now.

“So.  I'll take your stunned silence as confirmation that you don't have a better idea and I will go ahead and talk to Blaine about it later.”

“Fuck.” Kurt gave his head a small shake, “And then what?  If he says no then I'm back to the fucking group home idea and if he says yes then I'm agreeing to be babysat by him?  What kind of fucking choices are those?”

“Kurt…”  Wes said softly, “... they're better choices than the ones you have been making up until now.”

“Fuck you and fuck this shit.” Kurt spat from where he was reclined, “Fuck… well just fuck.”

Wes laughed and leaned back in his seat, “And that's how I know you know I'm right.  You resort to insults and cursing.”

Kurt fumed, brows pinched together as he did his best to glare at Wes who only seemed more amused by Kurt's attempt to scare him off as he continued to chuckle and grin dopily.  

“Fine.  Fuck.  Ask him.  I don't fucking care.  This is all insane.”

Wes nodded, “I will… and it is… but no more insane than the circumstances.  I'm glad you're letting us in though… especially me since I didn't even know you before Blaine had me come over to check on you before.  If you didn't make such idiot choices in life we might have met up and been friends before all this.”

“Right.” Kurt rolled his eyes.

“And if Blaine does go for it, then do me a favour?”

“Hmm?”

“Maybe try to wean him off the bowties?  The man has a serious addiction issue of his own.”