Remind Me to Forget

Chapter 29

Burt wrinkles his nose as he makes his way down the hall, his hope that he'd exaggerated the smell of disinfectant and hospital having been dashed as soon as he'd entered the doors. The cups of coffee in his hands only add to the mix of scents, though the coffee is by far the most pleasant.

Conversations echo and merge in the tiled hall, the buzz just loud enough to keep Burt alert. He moves to the side as two nurses wheel a gurney on his left, but he looks away as they pass; the least he can do is give their patient some privacy. He manages to make it to Blaine's room minutes later, but a glance through the window as he reaches for the handle shows only the boys tangled together on the bed, faces lax with sleep.

He quietly steps inside, taking note of the open door to the empty bathroom as he sets Kurt's coffee on the small bedside table. The boys don't stir, though Kurt's hair reminds Burt more of his toddler days than the careful styles of recent years.

Kurt looks less than his usual put-together self, and the stitches on Blaine stand out in stark relief, as jarring as the colorful bruises and nasal cannula.

Burt snaps a picture anyway.

He steps out of the room moments later, balancing his and Carole's coffees as he makes his way back down the hall.

“Mr. Hummel,” Burt stops, sees the nurse from earlier – Carrie? Kristy? Christine (based on the helpful nametag) – offering a smile. “Looking for your wife?”

“I'm guessin' you know where she went?”

“Hospitals can be…stressful,” Christine states as she gestures to the hall, “she said she needed some air; I gave her directions to the garden. It's not much, but there are some flowers, benches too.”

Burt nods, and minutes later he's outside, grass and flowers replacing concrete and parked cars. He smiles to a young couple standing next to an elderly woman in a wheelchair staring at a row of tulips, walks past a businessman speaking into his cell phone, his suit at odds with his surroundings.  

And finally, he sees Carole, standing near a rose bush that's seen better days. His wife is still, though Burt doubts the few blooms have managed to capture her attention.

“Carole?” She turns, offering a weak smile.

“More coffee?”

“Yeah,” he jokes as he hands her the cup, “but this is actually worthy of the name.”

“You mean you didn't bring me more of the…delightful concoction from the waiting room?”

“No,” Burt pauses, looks again at Carole's clenched hands and distracted smile. “You wanna tell me what I missed while I was picking up clothes and that drink Kurt thinks is coffee?”

Carole continues to stare at the bush, not moving. Finally, just as Burt moves to pull her into a hug, Carole turns around.

“I got a phone call, about an hour ago.” She stops there, and Burt resists the urge to yell in frustration at the non-answer.

He hasn't had good luck with phone calls, recently, and Carole's reticence has him worried.

“I thought we already had our quota of bad calls.”

“It was Blaine's mother.”

The words stop the response on the tip of Burt's tongue and he searches for words, unclenching his hands as he does so.

“I'm guessing it didn't go well?”

Carole offers a brittle smile. “Did you know she's on vacation?” Her voice drips with derision. “A cruise. She still has two days left, apparently. But she should be here sometime after then.” Carole lets out an audible breath and Burt offers her his hand. “I just don't understand that woman, Burt. Blaine's in this hospital – he's hurt – and she's finishing her cruise?”

Burt thinks back over Carole's words, takes a moment to push away the anger and attempt to understand Blaine's mother.

“She out of the country?”

Carole nods. “She called from an island,” the words come out as a question, but Burt waits for her to continue regardless, “I don't think she mentioned which one. The connection wasn't the best. Not that it matters. I just –” Carole stops midsentence, looks to Burt. “What kind of parent doesn't come running when their child is hurt?”

“One that can't.”

“What?” Carole's voice is incredulous, and Burt tightens his grip on her hand.

“You said she's on some island,” Burt hurries to explain, “if the phone service isn't the best, do you really think she could find a flight back to Ohio?”

“Maybe not,” Carole's agreement has Burt's eyebrows rising in surprise. “Maybe she can't get a flight, but you didn't hear her, Burt. She –” Carole stops again, shaking her head before continuing. “She didn't sound upset; some of your customers with a broken taillight have sounded more stressed.”

“People deal with pain in different ways.”

“You're defending her?”

“No – no!” Burt sighs. “I'm not. I just – I have to believe she's dealing with this as best she knows how, Carole.”

“Why? That woman hardly deserves your consideration.”

“Probably not,” Burt looks to the rose bush, “but think about what Blaine's life must have been like if I'm wrong.” Burt glances back to Carole. “If it was different, we'd be trying everything, and who knows, maybe she did, too. But if she can't get here any sooner, what else was she supposed to say?”

“She's supposed to try!”

“We don't know that she didn't,” Burt answers, keeping his voice calm, “we can't really know.”

“Don't placate me, Burt Hummel.”

“I'm not.” Burt sighs, keeps his voice even despite his own anger at the situation. “I just think we have bigger issues than being angry at a woman who's not even in the country.”

“I think I prefer being angry,” Carole huffs, finally stepping close enough Burt can gather her into a hug. “She –”

“She's not here,” Burt finishes, “but after our last meeting, maybe that's for the best.”

Carole stills. “A mother is supposed to be there for her children.”

Instinctively, Burt's hands tighten around his wife and he closes his eyes against the surge of anger that sweeps his body.

They hadn't been there for Finn, had arrived to blank monitors and silence in the too-cold room. But they'd arrived, had burst into the hospital as soon as possible after the call.

And now, despite a similar call, Blaine's mother is finishing a cruise: Maybe she couldn't get back yet, maybe she had exhausted all opportunities.

It's still a weak excuse, and Burt sighs, looks to the rose bush. It's still not the most beautiful he's seen, has more thorns and bare branches than flowers, but it's alive, and Burt manages a smile.

He steps back, looks Carole in the eye, “She may not be here, but we are. Blaine's got us.”

-*-*-*-

The door creaking open and letting in the commotion from the hall has Kurt blinking awake from beside Blaine, and as he turns toward the door he sees someone hastily leaving, the door shutting with a soft thud behind them.  Kurt feels his eyes widen when he sees a pizza delivery person through the small window in the door, their hat a sharp contrast to the nurse's scrubs. He shakes his head when people exit from the room next door, their voices loud as they take the pizza and head back inside.

(Three hours and four minutes.)

“Guess he had the wrong room,” Kurt turns back to Blaine's still form, “Not that we can blame him; these rooms are eerily similar. Still, pizza in the hospital…although we shouldn't expect more from Ohio, right?”

Blaine doesn't answer.

Kurt sighs and takes a moment to rub his hand across his eyes before carefully readjusting Blaine's blanket and glancing at the clock. “I don't suppose you're ready to wake up.”

The beeping monitors and murmurs from the hall are Kurt's only answer.

“Blaine –” He stops when he hears the door opening – again – and he turns, only to startle at the sight in the doorway.

Two uniformed policemen stand in the threshold.

“We don't mean to interrupt, Mr -”

“Kurt Hummel,” Kurt forces himself to keep his voice calm. “I'm Blaine's fiancé.”

“Right,” the older officer offers a small smile. “We met your parents. I'm Officer Randall and this is my partner, Officer Daniels. We got a call earlier; the nurse said Mr. Anderson woke up? We were hoping to ask him a few questions.”

Kurt's struck silent for a moment, the reality of police officers needing to speak with his fiancé warring with the memories of Blaine's injuries. He shakes his head slightly, pushes away the thoughts before turning to fully face the officers.

“I'm sorry you wasted your time, then. Blaine woke up a while ago, but he's sleeping –”

“-s not.”

“Blaine!” Kurt spins even as he feels the smile overtake his face. “You're awake! Do you need me to call the nurse –”

“-m fine.”

Kurt holds back his initial response, moves to brush back Blaine's bangs instead. ”Hi.”

“Hi,” Blaine's response is soft, his voice cracking even on the single syllable.

Kurt smiles anyway and moves to grab the cup of water, offering Blaine the straw. “I'm glad you decided to wake up.”

“Are you up for some questions?” Kurt startles at the question, jarring the cup and offering Blaine a quick apologetic smile before turning to face the officers and setting the cup aside. “Sorry,” Officer Randall continues, “but the sooner we get information the better.”

“Of course,” Kurt absently replies, already twisting back, moving to stand beside Blaine. “What do you think, Blaine?”

Blaine doesn't reply but nods toward the officers, and they step further into the room.

“Mr. Anderson?”

Kurt watches Blaine duck his head at the formal address and tightens his grip on Blaine's hand. “He goes by Blaine.”

“Right,” Officer Randall offers a smile, “sorry I forgot.” Kurt watches as the officer steps closer, his partner following behind. “So, Blaine. What do you think; are you up for answering some questions for us?” He then looks back to Kurt, “You might want to leave –”

“No.” The refusal is quiet, Blaine's voice still cracked and barely carrying throughout the room.

Kurt looks between the officers and Blaine before moving to sit back on the bed, keeping his hand locked around Blaine's. The offers don't comment, and Kurt's grateful: he'd rather not get in an argument with the police. Beside him, Blaine manages another nod.

“Okay then,” Officer Randall steps forward, but Kurt glances to his partner, sees Officer Daniels pulling out a pocket-sized notebook. “Blaine,” Kurt tightens his hand on Blaine's, briefly, when Officer Randal continues, “do you remember what happened Friday night?”

For a moment, Blaine stays silent. Kurt watches as Blaine looks around the room, lingering on the officers before meeting Kurt's gaze. Kurt manages a weak smile before Blaine looks away, closing his eyes.

“Blaine...” Kurt resists the urge the glare at Officer Randall for his impatience.

“I went to drop off the costumes,” Kurt quickly turns back to face Blaine, watches as Blaine's free hand grips the sheet in a white-knuckled grip. “I was alone in the parking lot…wait,” Blaine closes his eyes, “there was a truck –”

Kurt's heart sinks.

Blaine's still speaking, halting sentences that remind Kurt of painful phone calls and shared nightmares; Kurt forces himself to keep his grip strong, bites back the scream that's building in his throat.

Blaine finally stops, and Kurt blinks back the tears before briefly tightening his grip on Blaine's hand.

“– anything else you think we need to know?” Kurt looks away from Blaine at Officer Randall's question, waits as Blaine shakes his head ‘no' in answer.

The officers thank them for their time – and Kurt finally hears Officer Randall's voice – before turning to leave the room.

“Wait –” Kurt releases Blaine's hand, “I'll walk you to the waiting room; these halls can be a maze.”

Officer Randall looks like he's about to counter, but Kurt gives a minute shake of his head, stopping the reply.

Luckily, Blaine doesn't seem to notice.

Kurt places a quick kiss to Blaine's cheek before standing and following the officers out to the hall.

“Was there something –”

“Officer Randall!” Kurt turns at the shout, sees his dad and Carole a few steps down the hall, “Did you find something?” Kurt sees Carole hesitate for a moment, her gait off for a few steps before she self-corrects and comes to stop behind him.

“No,” The officer shares a glance with his partner before turning to face Kurt's approaching parents, “we actually just finished talking to Blaine.”

Kurt feels his dad's hand on his shoulder moments later.

“What was Blaine able to tell you about what happened?” His dad's voice is loud in his ear, but Kurt keeps his focus on the officers.

“He answered our questions,” Officer Randall comments, “We'll follow up on everything when we get back to the station; if there's nothing else?”

“Blaine's mother should be back in town in a couple days,” Carole answers in an even voice, and Kurt feels his shoulders briefly drop in relief at the interruption before he registers the words. “– not sure she'll have anything to add, but if – if you need to talk to her…she should be here.”

“Of course,” Officer Randall nods, “we'll be sure to speak with her. Thank you; we'll call if you don't have any other questions?” Kurt drops his gaze when the officer pointedly looks at him.

Kurt lets out a breath, turns to look at Carole. “Blaine remembered that he was in the parking lot. And then,” Kurt pauses, swallows and briefly closes his eyes before continuing. “And then there was a truck, and the driver got out –”

He stops when Carole gasps, brings a hand to cover her mouth.

There's a beat of silence, and then Officer Randall speaks. “Do you know this truck? Or,” he pauses and looks to Carole, “Do you know this person?”

Kurt bites his lip and turns to look to his dad.

“Blaine's been goin' to therapy,” Kurt's rarely heard his dad's voice so flat, and he leans back for a moment, relishes in the weight of his father. “He was havin' flashbacks, panic attacks to be honest, about being hurt a few years ago. One of the…one of the people drove a truck – sped past while he was left bleedin' in the parking lot.”

For a moment, no one speaks.

“Well,” Officer Randall breaks the silence, “we'll talk to the doctors before we leave. See – see what they think. We'll follow up anyway, though. Who knows,” Kurt bites back a smile when the officer straightens and meets Burt's gaze, “maybe we'll find somethin' helpful from Blaine's statement.”

“Maybe.” The sarcasm in his father's response has Officer Daniels narrowing his eyes, but he stays silent.

“Let us know what Blaine says, too,” apparently Officer Randall doesn't have his partner's reticence when confronted with Burt Hummel. “Who knows,” he continues, “maybe after you've spoken with him his memories'll straighten out.”

“I can't.” Kurt whispers the words, stepping back when his father and Carole turn to face him in spite of his low volume.

“Kurt?”

“He just woke up,” Kurt murmurs, “he's in pain and yeah, maybe he's confused. But I'm not – I can't be the one to question him.”

“Kurt,” Carole takes a step forward, rests a gentle hand on his shoulder, “if he's confused –”

“I'm not going to make him doubt himself!” Kurt hugs himself even as he looks to the floor. “I'm here for him – I'm not going to be the one to make him question his own memories.”

“Even if they're wrong?”

“Then they're wrong,” Kurt answers Carole's question, “but I won't be the one to tell him.”

No one speaks, after, and Kurt carefully shrugs off Carole's hand as his father turns back to the officers, confirming their contact information.

Kurt slowly crosses the hall as the officers begin their polite farewells. He steps back into Blaine's room as handshakes are exchanged, and he hears assurances of future calls as the door slips shut behind him.

“Hi.” Blaine's voice still barely carries across the small space, cracking even on the single syllable, but Kurt smiles regardless, giving Blaine a quick kiss before sitting on the side of Blaine's bed.

“Hi.” Kurt reaches for Blaine's hand – the one without the I.V. – and holds it in his lap. “Do you need anything?”

“You're back…” There's a pause, and Kurt watches as Blaine frowns in confusion. “I thought you were making sure the officers didn't get lost.”

Kurt nods toward the door. “Dad and Carole showed up; I figured they could give directions.” He leans forward, drops a quick kiss to Blaine's cheek. “I'd rather spend time with you. Now,” he waits until Blaine meets his gaze, “Do you need anything?”

Blaine manages a slight shake of his head. “No,” he pauses then, offers a weak squeeze of Kurt's hand before continuing, his eyes wide. “You have classes – finals – in New York! You –”

“Needed to be with my fiancé.” Kurt interrupts, meeting Blaine's eyes, “Please don't tell me you actually think for one second that I was going to stay for some classes when you're in the hospital.”

“I –”

“Would you have stayed in Ohio, if I were in the hospital in New York?”

Blaine ducks his head at Kurt's question, staying silent.

“We're getting married,” Kurt comments, forcing his voice to stay even as he remembers the last time he said the words to Blaine. He takes a moment, swallowing the block in his throat before continuing, “We're partners, remember?”

Blaine nods, leans into Kurt's shoulder and brushes a kiss against his cheek. “Partners.”

Kurt turns to face Blaine and uses his free hand to raise Blaine's still-downturned face. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Kurt smiles and can't resist leaning forward for a quick kiss. “Forever and always?” He keeps his voice light, teasing even as he tightens his grip on Blaine's hand.

“Forever and always,” Blaine repeats, and Kurt doesn't mind the pauses or the cracks in Blaine's voice, he can't help but laugh before leaning in for another kiss.

-*-*-*-

Blaine relishes Kurt's warmth beside him, takes a moment to lean against his fiancé, taking advantage of the strength so few see. Blaine shifts then, leaning more on Kurt even as he winces, pain hinting at the edges of his awareness – it's there, but despite feeling it, Blaine can't quite grasp it.

The pain isn't real. Not like Kurt is – he can't touch it.

“Are you sure you don't need me to call the nurse?” Kurt keeps the question soft, but Blaine hears the undercurrent of worry regardless.

Blaine manages a small shake of his head. “–m okay.”

“Blaine –”

“Really,” Blaine interrupts, “jus' a twinge.”

Kurt's eyes narrow but he doesn't comment, instead moving to sit against the headboard before slowly, carefully helping Blaine move so he's leaning against Kurt's chest.

“I'm so glad you're awake I'm not going to call you on that lie,” Kurt teases, and Blaine smiles in response. “But,” Kurt continues, “that was your one allowance. You lie again and I'll press that call button so fast –”

“No lies,” Blaine leans back, “Promise.”

“I'll hold you to that.” Kurt just breathes for a moment, his exhales a steady, comforting reminder in Blaine's ear. “You know how I feel about promises.”

Blaine nods, “They're forever.”

“That's right,” Kurt murmurs, “so don't – don't you dare break any, okay?”

For a moment Blaine almost laughs; breaking promises is absurd.

But then he takes in the hospital room, the beeping monitors and his I.V., his still limited vision from his (he guesses) black eye.

“Okay.”

Kurt's fingers flex around his own and Blaine glances down in response before freezing, his thoughts scattering.

“My ring! Kurt –” Blaine can't catch his breath, his ring is everything – a reminder of Kurt and their promise to get married – and he doesn't have it. “Kurt I don't –”

“I have it, Blaine,” Kurt moves his hands so they're by Blaine's chest, rising and falling with each breath. “Blaine, they gave it to me; it's in my pocket, I promise. So take a deep breath for me, okay? I have your ring. You just can't – you can't wear it while you're in here.”

“Oh,” Blaine deflates, dizziness building even as relief eases his grip on Kurt's hand.

“I hope you don't mind,” Kurt adds, “It was actually nice to have while I was waiting.”

“I'm glad you had it.”

“Just for a while,” Kurt comments, “and when I give it back to you I expect it to never leave your hand again.”

The door opens then, preventing any response Blaine may have made, and he smiles when he sees Burt and Carole rather than a nurse.

“Blaine,” Carole smiles and moves until she's standing beside the bed, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Blaine's forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“I'm okay.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” Blaine shifts his gaze at Burt's comment, watches as he ignores Carole's narrowed eyes, “It's good to see you up, kid. You had us worried for a while.”

Briefly, Kurt's arms tighten around him and Blaine leans back in response, tightens his own hold on Kurt's hand.

“Don't apologize,” Kurt states, and Blaine wishes he had a way to mark that Kurt's once again read his mind.

Then again, Kurt's always been special.

“Are you sure you don't need anything?” Carole's question interrupts Blaine's thoughts, and he shakes his head in reply. “Burt brought back some of your things earlier, and…your mother should be here in a few days, if you need anything from their house.”

Blaine loses his words.

The last time his mother personally brought him anything he was left with ill-fitting clothes and a postcard. Blaine closes his eyes for a moment, makes his breathing match Kurt's before opening them and looking to Carole.

“I'm fine.” Blaine manages a small smile, “Kurt's here.”

He sees Burt duck his head and mutter something to Carole; the words don't carry, but Carole laughs in response.

“No teasing,” Kurt chides, his voice a touch too loud next to Blaine's ear, “Aren't you always saying something about how if there's nothing nice to say it's better to stay quiet?”

“I also seem to remember tellin' you to not exaggerate,” Burt replies, his smile taking any sting out of his words as he steps forward. “Anyway, Blaine,” he continues, shifting his focus, “you just let me know if you need somethin' else; I just grabbed a few things.”

Blaine nods. “Thanks, Mr. Hummel.”

“It was no problem, Blaine. Like I said – we're all just glad you're up.” A pause, and then Burt's expression turns serious, “I gotta say, kid, gettin' that phone call had us worried. And then when the cops didn't have anything….”

“But I talked to them,” Blaine meets Burt's gaze, “earlier – they came by. And I talked to them.” Burt sighs in response and Blaine feels his shoulders tighten, wincing at the motion. To his right, the monitor is beeping more often.

“Blaine,” Kurt's voice is even, steady even as his hand rubs circles on Blaine's arm. “Blaine. Just breathe, okay? Breathe with me.”

Blaine closes his eyes and follows Kurt's directions.

When he opens his eyes, it's to Burt standing barely a foot away, eyes tight with concern. “You sure you don't want that nurse?”

“I'm fine,” Blaine chances a look to Kurt, “Promise.”

Kurt just shakes his head before pressing a quick kiss to Blaine's cheek. “Just keep breathing for me.”

Blaine nods.

“You sure you're okay?” At Blaine's nod Burt steps even closer, “And I – we – know you talked with them Blaine.” He pauses, rests a hand on the mattress beside Blaine's leg, “We spoke with ‘em on their way out earlier; they told us about your statement.”

Blaine lets out a breath, leans more against Kurt. “Oh.”

It seems bigger now, his words known to people outside of Kurt and the police. Blaine focuses on Kurt's hand, on the quiet tic of the clock and the beeps from the monitors to focus on right now, pushing away the memories of before.

“Yeah,” Burt sighs then, and Blaine looks up from where he's been staring at Kurt's ring, “Blaine – your statement; that's everything you remember?”

Blaine frowns at the question, ignoring the pull from the stitches in his lip. “Yeah. I – I told them everything.”

Behind him, Kurt tenses.

Burt and Carole share a glance, too, and the pain grows a fraction stronger even as he wonders what he's missing.

“Blaine,” Burt's voice has gone soft, “You told ‘em everything from Friday night? You're sure?”

“Everything I remember,” Blaine confirms, “I don't –” Blaine stops himself midsentence, “What's wrong?”

For a moment, no one speaks.

“You told the police you remember bein' in the parking lot. That there was a green truck and the…driver was the one who –” Burt stops then, choosing instead to gesture to Blaine's bed.

“He did. Mitch –”

“Blaine,” Burt's voice has gone quiet, “Blaine, think about what you just said. About who was there…” Burt rubs a hand across his forehead, “Are you sure that's what happened on Friday?”

And suddenly, it makes sense.

“I –” The words get stuck in Blaine's throat, caught. He'd been certain, earlier. The memories scattered but there, the fragments broken with darkness.

But he'd seen the truck.

He can't remember what happened after the initial car door slam and the shout, but he remembers the truck, remembers recognizing that voice –

Weeks' worth of nightmares have Blaine clutching for Kurt's hand.

He remembers the truck, the fear –

What if he's wrong?

“It's not uncommon for traumatic events to cause memory loss and confusion,” Carole adds from the foot of the bed, “honestly I'm surprised you're awake right now.”

Blaine turns slightly, burying his head in the juncture between Kurt's neck and shoulder. “Kurt?”

“Hm?” The response to his whisper comes out more of a hum than words, but Blaine draws comfort all the same.

“Do you think –” he pauses, takes another breath, “What if I got it wrong?”

Kurt stills, the finger that had been circling Blaine's wrist stopping its movement even as Blaine hears Kurt let out a breath.

Blaine counts Kurt's breath as he waits.

“It'll be okay,” Kurt finally whispers, “We'll – we'll figure it out. But for now just focus on feeling better – on getting better.”

As if to counter Kurt's command, Blaine feels a swell of pain from his stomach, and he winces, sucking in a breath when the movement pulls his stitches – it's a circle: The pain making him wince, the movement pulling stitches and causing more pain to repeat the process.

Kurt's hand moves then, pushing the button on the railing to call the nurse. “I told you –”

He's interrupted by the connection going through, and Blaine listens as Kurt asks for someone to come to the room, preferably with medication.

After assurances that she'll let Blaine's nurse know the call ends, and the room seems too quiet once the echo of static fades and only the beeping monitors fill the silence.  Blaine leans more fully into Kurt, and starts to bite his lip to distract himself from the aches building throughout his body.

He stops when he feels a stitch, a flash of pain blooming and making him hold back a flinch.

“Burt,” Carole's voice has Blaine looking up, watching as she rests a hand on Burt's arm, “why don't we go see what's keeping Blaine's nurse.”

Blaine ducks his head, hiding his eyes from Burt and Carole, embarrassed at the swell of gratefulness he feels. He feels like he's gone back in time, laying in a hospital bed with pain steadily taking over his senses. He hates how the pain medication makes him feel – how it makes him sleep – and the fact that he's obvious enough with his discomfort that Carole's willing to step outside just to find his nurse has Blaine focusing on Kurt's hand, steadily blinking and ignoring the sting in his eyes.

Behind him, Kurt begins to hum.

Blaine focuses on the notes even as the door closes with a quiet click, sounds briefly filtering in before being muffled once again by the door.

Blaine lets his eyes close again and leans more fully against Kurt, the steadiness and heat of Kurt's body worth the flash of pain he gets in response. He takes comfort from the smooth, quiet sound of Kurt's voice; Kurt can't physically take away Blaine's pain, but Blaine feels safer all the same.

“Kurt?”

The humming stops, and Blaine misses the tune even though he prompted its end. “Hm? Do you need some water? Or another blanket –”

“No. I –” Blaine pauses, turning to face Kurt's profile, “No – just…can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything,” the words hold a world of sincerity, but Blaine feels threads of fear growing nonetheless.

“Is it wrong –” Blaine stops, considering his words before starting again. “Earlier, Carole said my mom was coming.”

It's not the question he meant to ask, Blaine's words are shifting, changing between his thoughts and what he says, but the idea is close enough that Blaine just waits, matching his breaths to Kurt's.

“Yeah,” The word is softly spoken, barely more than whisper by Blaine's ear, “Carole mentioned a few days – two or three, I think.”

“I –” Blaine lets out a breath and looks away from Kurt, “Do I have to see her?” His voice cracks, and the rest of his words are lost, trapped.

“Blaine,” Kurt's voice is just as calm as before, “you don't have to do anything you don't want to, and that includes seeing your mother.”

Blaine sighs and leans more fully against Kurt. “I should want to see her, right? I'm –”

“You're not going to do anything you don't want to,” Kurt voice is firm, if quiet, with a thrum of anger under the words. “Your mother – she hasn't been here, Blaine. You don't – you don't owe her anything.”

“She's Mom but she never really…” Blaine pauses, looks down and stares at Kurt's ring and wishes he was wearing his own. “She's not bad. She's just –”

“You don't have to defend yourself Blaine,” Kurt interrupts, “not to me.”

He doesn't have to, but Blaine wants to – wants to try, anyway.

“'s not like all the movies. I – I know she loves me, but after Cooper…” Blaine stops, tightens his hand on Kurt's as the pain briefly swells across his chest and stomach. “People are supposed to want their mom, Kurt.”  

“Sometimes,” and Kurt's voice is even, calming, “sometimes some people – even mothers – aren't naturally parents. They can try, but it's just not part of their nature.” Kurt pauses for a moment then, presses a kiss to Blaine's temple, “You know how I feel about your parents, Blaine, I've never been one to not share my opinions,” a quiet laugh and Blaine feels his lips twitch in response, “but your mom – she wasn't there for you, before. So there's nothing – absolutely nothing – wrong with you not wanting her here now, okay?”

“I should though,” Blaine whispers, “she's…she's still my mom, right?”

Kurt sighs. “Just because she has the title of mother doesn't mean she's earned it, Blaine. And I'm sorry she can't see that you deserve the world, but you don't owe her anything. You don't, Blaine.”

Blaine still can't find the words he wants so he just nods against Kurt's neck, ignoring the increase in the number of beeps from the monitor to his right.

“Blaine –”

Kurt's comment is interrupted by the door, “Your nurse is getting your meds right now, Blaine. She should be here in a minute.” There's a pause, and a glance shows Carole standing beside Burt just inside the door. “Sorry,” Carole adds, “did we interrupt?”

-*-*-*-

For a moment, neither of the boys move and Carole shares a glance with Burt, wondering what they missed. Blaine's heartrate has increased slightly, but given Kurt's tight expression she doubts it's due to pain.

She steps further into the room then, moving to the foot of the bed as Burt follows her lead.

“Dad,” Kurt's voice breaks the silence, “you have Blaine's paperwork, right?”

Beside her, Burt tenses. “Yeah, Kurt; we wouldn't be in here without it.”

Kurt nods, keeps his eyes on Blaine even as he finally starts to speak again. “Does it –” He stops then, looks up, “Do we have to let Blaine's mom here, too?”

Carole bites her tongue.

Beside her, Burt lets out a breath and rubs a hand over his face. “There a reason you're askin', Kurt?”

Kurt looks up, but it's Blaine who answers, “I – I don't want to see her.” Carole can barely hear the hurried words, soft as they are, and she takes a step forward, her knees hitting the foot of the bed. “I know – I know I should but if I don't have to – if –”

“You're an adult, Blaine,” Burt interrupts, “legally, you don't have to let anyone in this room you don't want to see. And even so I'm your medical power of attorney, kid.” Burt offers a smile, “For now I'm the boss.”

Kurt murmurs something then, and Blaine's eyes brighten, but he doesn't smile, stays still against Kurt's chest.

Carole thinks back to her conversation with Blaine's mother, tightens her hands on the bedrail in response. The nurse enters then, unknowingly breaking the tableau and offers a smile as she crosses to stand by Blaine.

“Hi, Blaine. You remember me?” At Blaine's panicked glance she continues, “I'm Christine, don't worry – you were still pretty groggy when I was here earlier.” She keeps talking, asking Blaine's pain level while checking his vitals, offering a smile to Kurt before having him move just enough that she can check Blaine's incision.

Burt takes Carole's hand when the bruises and incisions are exposed, and Carole swallows the gasp that rises in her throat. She sees Kurt swallow as well, but he keeps his hand on Blaine's, keeps Blaine's focus on him rather than where Christine is adjusting bandages and checking stitches.

Moments later the blanket is readjusted, and Christine has attached a syringe to Blaine's I.V. port, double checking Blaine's bracelet and confirming the medication – and the probability of Blaine feeling tired – before pressing the plunger. Two more and then she's stepping back, throwing away the syringes and stopping by Carole.

“His vitals look good,” she shares, “and he's a charmer; I can see why Kurt's so smitten.”

“He's a good kid,” Carole agrees, “talented too. When – when he's out of here you'll have to come to one of their performances; Blaine sings. Plays the piano, too.”

“Talented boy,” Christine nods, and Carole looks over, sees that Blaine's already fallen back asleep. “He'll probably be out for another few hours, now, if you want to get some lunch.”

Christine crosses to the computer and there's a minute or so of typing before she leaves, the room seeming to expand in her absence. The monitors continue to beep and Kurt carefully pushes back Blaine's bangs even as Carole steps back from the bed and moves to stand beside him.

“Kurt?” Kurt continues to brush back Blaine's bangs, his only acknowledgement a slight tilt of his head. Still, Carole rests a hand on his shoulder before continuing. “Did something happen with Blaine's mother? Did she call you or –” she stops, reconsiders, “Is there a reason we don't know about for why Blaine doesn't want her here?”

For several minutes Kurt doesn't answer, continues to push back Blaine's hair, seemingly content to just watch him breathe. Finally, Kurt seems to come to a decision, dropping a kiss to Blaine's forehead before carefully moving to the side, still next to Blaine but no longer supporting him.

“Cooper was supposed to be an only child. Blaine overheard his mom on the phone once – maybe she forgot he was home, maybe she didn't care he heard, I don't know. But they planned for Cooper. And Blaine's mom she…she gave up everything – her clubs and trips and meetings – all of it, to take Cooper to every child-friendly event in town. She planned to be there for every minute of Cooper's childhood, and then when he was older she'd go back to visiting tourist traps and attending whatever club meeting she wanted. But then right after Cooper started middle school,” Kurt pauses and reaches to take Blaine's hand, “they had Blaine.”

“Not part of their plan,” Carole mutters, feeling her anger at the woman rising again.

“No, Blaine's always been good at surprises.” Kurt gives her a half smile as he stands, dislodging her hand and crossing his arms before glancing back to Blaine. “She missed a few of his recitals, some plays. Blaine always told me he didn't care, but…” Kurt lets the sentence trail off before shrugging again and continuing in a low, cold voice, “Once when her friends were visiting Blaine overheard her say she'd forgotten what it was to be herself rather than ‘Cooper's Mom'…” Kurt pauses, and Carole sees his knuckles turn white, “Blaine's gotten used to not having a mother; I think he's too tired to deal with learning, now.”

Carole bites back the curse she'd like nothing more than to shout, clenching her hands instead. She remembers when Finn was first born, how she'd been terrified by the small blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms, how she'd known her life would change (but underestimated just how much), how savings was spent on diapers and onesies (and later drum-sets and CDs) instead of salon appointments and the latest blockbuster.

But she'd relished every moment, even when the ongoing percussion concerts had only added to the headache she'd brought home from work.

She can't imagine she'd have ever sat at a school play, or been the chaperone for a field trip while wishing she was anywhere else –

She'd gladly give up her job and her savings account be attending one now.

And if her own child ever even thought he was second to a trip, or some meeting –

Carole lets out a breath. “Blaine has a mother.” The sentence is clipped, but the fact stands, and Carole looks to Kurt. “He's a member of this family; it's changed now, but your dad, me, you, and Blaine – we're a family, and I – Blaine has a mom, Kurt.”

The force of Kurt's hug has her stepping backwards to keep her balance, her arms coming around his back even as he drops his head to her shoulder. For a moment Carole's frozen: Kurt isn't open with his affection; she can count the number of times he's initiated a hug on one hand.

She ignores the sting in her eyes, tightening her hold on Kurt instead even as she ignores the hitch in his breathing.

“She's right,” Burt breaks the silence, “Blaine's a member of this family, and we look after our own.” Carole looks over Kurt's bent head and meets Burt's gaze. “And if that means not lettin' in people he doesn't want to see, we'll take care of it.”

Kurt mutters something then, the words muffled against Carole's shoulder.

“Kurt?”

“He feels guilty,” Kurt repeats as he raises his head, “He shouldn't – but since he's the one saying ‘no' this time…”

“We'll deal with that when Blaine wakes up,” Burt answers, “we'll talk to him, Kurt.”

Kurt nods and eases his arms from around Carole, stepping back.

“Well,” Carole looks to Kurt, silently grateful her voice stays steady, “now that we've got a plan, what do you say to getting some lunch?”

“I'm not –”

“Blaine'll be out for a while, Kurt,” Carole keeps her voice soft, “and you've been in this room for hours; I'll stay with him. Why don't you go join your dad for a sandwich.”

Kurt looks torn, anxious, but finally he nods, brushes a kiss to Blaine's cheek – and murmurs something too low for Carole to hear – before moving to stand by Burt. After promises of the ‘most appetizing sandwich available' Carole's left with Blaine, the sleeping teen and the beeping monitors her only company.

Carole moves to the abandoned chair and takes Blaine's hand.

“Looks like you're stuck with me for a while,” Carole takes a moment, adjusts the blankets covering Blaine, “I can't sing for you like Kurt can, but I can keep you company.”

The monitors answer, as expected, but Carole briefly tightens her grip on Blaine's hand anyway – she won't let him worry he's alone.

-*-*-*-

The cafeteria practically bursts with noise, countless conversations echoing while the occasional announcement blares from unseen speakers. Burt holds back a sigh, resists the urge to complain and live up to the ‘old man' stereotype.

A glance to his right shows Kurt critically eying the layout.

“You still can't get a cheeseburger.”

Burt shakes his head and walks further into the cafeteria, “I shoulda known you just wanted to limit my options.”

“No cheeseburgers.”

Burt eyes his son, sees the tension around his eyes, the unkept sweep of his hair, the pallor that's a shade off from normal. “Alright, no cheeseburgers,” Burt looks to the salad bar with its limp lettuce and slim options, “but I'm not just gettin' a salad, either.”

“You did promise Carole a sandwich,” Kurt teases, “I'm sure they have some with more than just meat and cheese.”

The prepackaged sandwiches lack both variety and any appeal, and after a glance around Burt settles for joining the line for subs. There are still limited options, but at least the shredded lettuce is green.

By the time they're seated at one of the small tables – after Burt won the small argument about immediately returning to Blaine's room – Burt finds himself at a loss; across from him Kurt carefully unwraps his sandwich, approaching the paper with the same intensity Burt usually associates with Kurt's music.

Conversations hum around them, but Burt can't find the words he wants in the moment. He finally has time alone with Kurt, and yet all the comforts and questions that had surrounded him earlier have vanished.

Silence graces the table until Burt sees Kurt still fiddling with the paper, folding and refolding the edges while his sub sits in the middle, untouched.

“You know,” Burt comments with a nod toward Kurt's lunch, “generally food has to be eaten for it to be helpful.”

“Generally for food to be eaten,” Kurt responds with a glance to the sub, “it needs to be appetizing.”

“You haven't even tried it,” Burt nods again toward the food, “You need to eat, Kurt.”

Kurt sighs, but picks up the sandwich nonetheless, taking a bite with a pointed look. “Just because it's not horrible doesn't mean I'm hungry.”

“Tough,” Burt counters, “you're gonna eat it anyway.”

Kurt manages to convey exasperation and acceptance with a single glance; Burt offers a smile in response.

“There,” Kurt comments, setting down half the sub a few minutes later, “I've eaten; happy?”

“Kurt,” Burt sighs, takes a sip of his drink as he gathers his thoughts. “I don't wanna fight with you; I just don't want you passin' out because you're too stubborn to eat a sandwich.”

“I wouldn't pass out,” Kurt mutters from across the table, but he takes another bite regardless.

Burt waits a moment, watches as Kurt slowly eats small bites of his sub, his movements methodical. A clatter has Burt turning, sees a toddler looking far-too-pleased while a tired-looking mother picks up a juice box and plastic tray from the floor.

“You used to do that,” Burt comments with a nod, “loved to make everythin' a mess except yourself; you'd drop pasta on the floor, spill your drinks all over the table and just laugh. Unless you got something on you – first time that happened I thought you'd fallen, but you just had sauce all over your onesie.”

Across from him, Kurt's stopped eating. “I did not.”

“You did,” Burt smiles, “You've always been a special kid.”

Finally, a smile. “I'm going to take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” Burt agrees. He sighs then, taking in Kurt's still-pinched look and wrinkled clothes. “How're you holdin' up, Kurt?”

Kurt freezes, his sub halfway to his mouth. He blinks, lowers the sandwich before straightening in his chair, and Burt watches in wonder as Kurt changes before him: a breath and the tiredness around his eyes and mouth lessens, a tilt of his head and suddenly anxiety is replaced with indifference; if Burt didn't know better he'd think Kurt was simply tired after a long day at work.

Sometimes, Burt forgets just how good Kurt is at acting.

“I'm fine.”

If he had missed the previous twelve hours, Burt would be tempted to believe him. “Kurt –”

“I am,” his son's words stay clear, if a touch cold. “I'm not the one –” a pause, and Kurt lets out a frustrated breath before continuing, “What did they say, when you asked about Blaine's memory?”

Burt takes a moment to rub a hand over his eyes. “Dr. Olt wasn't in yet,” Burt starts, “so we didn't get anything specific. But,” he continues when Kurt narrows his eyes, looks ready to object, “I did manage to talk with one of the residents; he said they can do some tests, even bring in a neurologist if needed, but since the rest of Blaine's memory seemed okay he didn't sound too worried. Blaine's memory might be jumbled; he did go through a trauma.” Burt pauses then, looks Kurt in the eye before finishing. “But there's also a chance Blaine might not ever remember exactly what happened.”

Kurt stares at the table. “It must have been awful,” he finally comments, voice soft and barely audible over the echoing conversations surrounding them, “I know it had to be horrible. And part of me doesn't want Blaine to remember. He doesn't need those nightmares. But Dad,” he looks up then, and Burt sees the shine in Kurt's eyes even if there are no tears, “whoever did this…they can't – they can't get away with it.”

“They won't.”

“Even if Blaine doesn't remember?” The question is cutting, harsh in its honesty.

“The police are looking –”

“And they helped so much last time.”

“Kurt.” Burt waits, watches Kurt take even breaths and unclench his hands.

“He has to remember,” Kurt finally answers, “He has to! The monster who did this doesn't deserve to live outside of prison!” Kurt's anger is palpable, but in a still fury, the calm before the hurricane. “The police have to catch him! And what does that say about me, Dad, that I'd rather Blaine remember everything, the pain and how scared me must have been – have even more nightmares – just to ensure that happens?”

“You want Blaine to be safe,” Burt counters, meeting Kurt's stare, “we all want that, Kurt. And the best way to ensure that happens is for whoever did this to be caught. And Blaine remembering enough to tell the police is the quickest way for that to happen. You don't want Blaine to have more nightmares, Kurt, you just want him to stay safe.”

“He's hurting either way,” Kurt snaps back, dropping his gaze to the table.

“He's hurt now,” Burt leans forward, “and there's no quick fix, Kurt. No perfect win.” Burt sighs, takes a quick sip of his drink, “These next few weeks, Blaine's gonna be struggling either way. But I know how much you love Blaine, Kurt. And he's family, focus on that; you've always been great at support.”

Kurt's gaze stays glued to the table, but slowly his shoulders relax, and finally he leans back with a drawn-out, shaky exhale. “He deserves better.”

“Of course he does,” Burt shakes his head, “no one deserves what he's been though. And I wish you didn't have to deal with it either, but it's done. Just keep bein' there for him, Kurt, and you can't go wrong.”

Kurt finally looks up. “I can –” he stops, looks over Burt's shoulder before starting again. “You'll make sure the police catch him, right Dad?”

Burt blinks. Because across from him Kurt's no longer his legally adult, college-student son, he's the little boy who believes him when Burt says he's scared away all the monsters under his bed, the boy who thought Burt was the strongest man in the world as he followed Burt around in the shop, too small to work on cars himself.

Kurt isn't asking Burt Hummel, Congressman and small-business owner to do the right thing.

Kurt's asking his father to ensure the monster who hurt his fiancé is found.

Logically, Burt knows he shouldn't – he doesn't have any pull at the police station, doesn't have super strength or the ability to find wayward criminals.

And Kurt must see something because he's already leaning back in his chair, brushing off the question and turning away, looking to the strangers and their conversations instead.

Burt wants to yell, to throw everything from the table while promising Kurt that of course the monster who dared to hurt their family will be caught.

But he can't.

And worst of all, Kurt knows it.

“Kurt,” Burt releases a breath, “Blaine'll be safe.”

He can't promise retribution, or justice, but he can promise that.

Kurt nods, and begins gathering up the trash. “We should get back to Carole; I'm sure she's anxiously awaiting her five-star cafeteria sandwich.”

Burt shakes his head, but gathers his and Kurt's drinks for refills anyway – Carole may not be the first one Kurt wants to see, but Burt's not going to hinder him.

Besides, he did promise Carole a sandwich.