Remind Me to Forget

Chapter 35

Carole ends the call and places her phone in her purse with a sigh. After days spent only with family and medical personnel she'd forgotten how draining it was, talking to others. Describing Blaine's condition, focusing on keeping the details of his recovery clear while respecting his privacy – Carole had chosen her words carefully. Luckily Emma had accepted the pauses and been grateful for the update, her tone carrying only the slightest hint of unease when she first asked about Blaine (and if Carole had breathed out a sigh of relief when Emma had let it slip that Will wasn't home, Emma hadn't seemed to notice).

Across from her, Kurt seems intent on his own phone, tapping hurriedly, although the angle keeps her from seeing if he's sending texts or checking his online wish list. She'd hoped, when he'd joined her as Blaine was wheeled away for more tests, that Kurt would give her some insight into his thoughts.

She should have known better.

Kurt hasn't looked up from his phone in the half an hour they've been in the waiting room.

“Everything okay?”

Kurt quickly looks up, surprised. “Sorry?”

“I didn't mean to startle you. But,” Carole nods toward the phone now held in Kurt's lax hand, “you seemed pretty intent. Everything okay in New York?”

“I guess.” Kurt offers a weak shrug. “Elliott said things are okay, anyway, and Santana thanked me for her getting extra hours at the diner. Her way of being supportive: my shifts are covered and she gets some extra money.”

Carole gives a small shake her of head even as she manages a small smile. “That sounds like Santana.”

Kurt offers an absent hum of agreement and refocuses on his phone.

Carole takes a breath – and the reaches across the foot separating them and takes Kurt's phone, too.

“Carole –”

“Those texts you described aren't what's keeping you so attached to this,” she comments as she holds the phone. “So, why don't you tell me what's really bothering you.”

“Blaine's –”

“Blaine was taken for testing,” Carole interrupts, “and he's getting better each day he's here. I didn't ask about Blaine, Kurt, I asked about you.”

Kurt looks to the floor and Carole resists the urge to give Kurt an out, holds in the nevermind, Kurt and the need to immediately comfort.

“s'd it.” The mumbled sounds leave Kurt with a sigh, barely louder than a whisper.

“Kurt?”

“I missed it.” The sharp words carry across the small space, but make no more sense than Kurt's previous mumble. “Blaine did see the truck,” Kurt continues before Carole can manage to form a response. “It was there…that monster followed him, Carole, was parked by the shop! And I didn't – I just told him everything was okay. I didn't –”

“Kurt!”

Kurt stops midsentence, surprise and annoyance crossing his features before he leans back in his chair and refuses to meet Carole's eyes, stares instead at a point just over her shoulder.

“You couldn't have known,” she continues as Kurt keeps his silence. “None of us could have known. Blaine didn't know, Kurt. You didn't let him down.”

“I –”

“You have been there for Blaine, Kurt. So don't you dare sell yourself short. I won't have it, okay?”

Kurt nods, mumbles a quiet, “Okay.” But Carole recognizes the distant look in his eye, the slight downturn of his mouth.

Carole sighs. “Kurt. Blaine saw a truck at Glee's performance and mis-stepped. Was that his fault?”

“No! Of course –”

“It was at the shop, we know that. Your dad didn't see it. Should he be feeling guilty?”

“He was inside! He couldn't –”

“No, Kurt. He couldn't have known. So what makes it different for you?”

Across the room, a tired father is attempting to get a toddler to play with a set of blocks; an older couple appear to be having a quiet argument, judging by their body language; the nurses type away on the computers behind the desk.

“You know,” Kurt finally replies, “if I were a different person I'd resent being surrounded with adults who are right all the time.”

Carole ducks her head to hide her smile. “It's a gift.”

And for the first time in days, Kurt looks up with something akin to a real smile. “I don't suppose you'd share your supplier?”

“I would,” Carole replies with a nod, “but unfortunately clientele are limited by age. You've got a while to go, I'm afraid.”

Kurt shakes his head. “I should have known.”

“Hm,” Carole agrees as she stands up. “Come on, Kurt, I think after that we've earned some stellar dessert from the cafeteria.”

Kurt stands even as his voice betrays his confusion. “At 10 in the morning?”

“I said we've earned it, Kurt.” Carole offers him her arm, “And are you really going to turn down dessert?”

Carole ignores his mumblings about the quality of said dessert as they head for the elevator.

*-*-*-*

Burt sighs and leans back against the worn seat of his truck, staring at the building before him. He had intended to grab a coffee and head to the shop, just like he'd told Carole, but without him realizing he'd ended up here.

And he can't bring himself to turn around.

The structure before him reminds him of an office building with its tan exterior and small windows. At this time of the morning few cars are out, so his view remains mostly unobstructed.

Burt clenches his hands around the steering wheel.

Releasing a breath – or ten – Burt finally releases his hands, reaching down to undo his seatbelt.

Moments later he double checks that he's locked the door before reaching up and adjusting his hat. There's a bite in the air, but the glare from the sun has him squinting, and he briefly ducks his head to shield his eyes.

A glance and then he crosses the street, pausing only once he reaches the front doors.

He can't rush in and demand information, can't make his way to the cell or interrogation room and personally question the homophobic monster who dared to hurt a member of his family.

He can't.

But stopping by to thank Rob for his phone call is something he can do, and if he can manage an invitation for some – probably poorly made – coffee for the chance to ask some questions, there's no law against talking to a friend.

Squaring his shoulders, Burt opens the door.

He's struck by the sound, first. The shows Carole watches always have precincts buzzing with noise, but while there is a steady hum of distant conversations, there's no thrum of immediate urgency.

“Can I help you?”

The officer behind the desk looks young, and Burt resists the urge to ask him when he graduated from high school.

“I was hopin' to see a friend. Officer Rob Fenner? He should be on shift, as far as I know.”

“I can call back and see if he's free…is this regarding a case?”

“Yeah,” Burt reaches up and runs a hand over the bill of his hat, unable to stay both silent and still.

Five minutes later Burt's seated in an uncomfortable chair (smaller and less-padded than even the chairs in the hospital waiting room), staring at the steam rising from the Lima PD mug in front of him on the desk.

“So Kurt's enjoyin' the big city?”

The question startles Burt out of his reverie. “Yeah,” Burt reaches for his coffee, “he loves it. Made the Dean's List last semester too.”

“That's good. Kurt's a good kid.”

“Yeah,” Burt agrees, “I lucked out in the kid department.”

Silence.

Burt reaches for his coffee.

“Okay,” Rob leans forward in forward in his chair. “Kurt is a talented, smart kid. But I'm guessin' you're not here drinking department coffee because of that fact.” A beat, and Burt sets down his mug. “How's Blaine doing, Burt?”

“He's improving.” Burt thinks back to that morning, right before he'd left the hospital. Kurt had been beside Blaine on the bed, distracting him as Christine had checked Blaine's incisions.

“I heard he woke up.”

“Yeah,” Burt readjusts his hat. “A few days ago.”

Burt remembers Blaine's barely audible, half-formed sentences; Kurt's palpable rush of relief; Carole's hand clenching his own. Blaine had woken up, but his stitches and bruises – Blaine still doesn't look like himself.

For a moment, it's all Burt can see, his imagination filling in the blanks in what it would take to leave Blaine with the injuries that still have him in the ICU.

Injuries Stephen Mullins had caused.

His hands clench, and he pictures meeting the monster who dared to hurt his family.

Ten minutes.

Ten minutes alone and Burt could release the anger he's kept at bay since that harrowing phone call.

A ringing phone shatters his imaginings. Burt glances up, sees Rob patiently taking a sip of his own coffee. Abruptly, Burt remembers the gutted look on Kurt's face when he realized Burt couldn't promise Mullins would be caught.

And Burt knows, with sudden clarity, that Rob would tell him. Burt could get his ten minutes.

But Kurt would have that look again, and Blaine – Blaine would never receive justice for the hell he endured.

“Burt?”

“I should get going,” Burt answers, catching the flash of relief on Rob's face. “Gotta get back and check on the boys, you know? Besides,” he continues as he stands and pushes in his chair, “I promised Carole a real cup of coffee.”

“Ah,” Rob comments as he stands. “You'd better get on that, then. It never ends well if you make the wife wait.”

Burt nods and reaches forward to shake Rob's hand. “Thanks again.”

“It was good seein' you, and let me know how Blaine's doing, too.”

“Of course.”

Burt is steps from the door when a shout as him turning. “Mr. Hummel!” Seconds later Val stands next to him, offering a smile. “Sorry, I probably shouldn't have shouted, but I saw you and –”

“It's fine.” Burt interrupts, “It's nice to see you somewhere other than the hospital… but,” he gestures to the station, “I'm guessin' this is still work for you.”

“Sometimes,” Val nods.

“Not now?”

“No, actually,” Val comments with a smile. “I was just having breakfast with a friend before heading to the office…” The sentences dies and she takes a step forward. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Burt looks to the floor in embarrassment. “I –” He sighs and starts again. “No, but thanks for asking.”

“Well then,” Val nods toward the door. “Were you leaving, too?”

At the words Burt involuntarily looks back toward the hall he'd left moments earlier, absently wondering if Mullins is scared.

He should be.

“Yeah,” Burt finally answers, slightly shaking his head. “I'm done.”

Stepping out into the parking lot beside Val Burt pauses for a moment, blinking in the intensely bright morning light.

“All that florescent lighting and I still can't see when I step outside.”

Burt hums in agreement and futilely adjusts his hat. “At least it's not raining.”

“I've always liked the rain,” Val comments from beside him. “Everything seems better…cleaner, afterwards.”

“Too bad it only happens outside,” Burt murmurs, glancing toward the station.

“You know,” Val begins, “You strike me as a pretty smart man. Maybe you can help me with something.” At Burt's questioning look she continues, “I always wondered…as kids we're taught what's right and wrong: be kind, help others, don't lie, or cheat. But despite the tale of the forbidden fruit, I was never told that temptation is wrong. In fact, I was also told my curiosity was a good thing. But temptation seems much more dangerous than cheating on a math test, or lying about a party. Temptation has far worse consequences, don't you think?”

Burt freezes.

“I do,” Burt finally answers, turning to face her. “And I thought through all of them, about fifteen minutes ago.”

“Like I said,” Val smiles, “you're a smart man.”

“And you're very good at your job.”

“I try to be, but it certainly helps when the people have support. Especially the younger ones,” Val pauses for a moment, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “Parents are important.”

“I'm not Blaine's –”

“And yet here you are, Mr. Hummel.”

Burt drops his gaze and thinks back to the fear that had eclipsed his thoughts when he'd answered the phone and heard Blaine Anderson and Lima Memorial Hospital in the same sentence.

He hadn't just worried for Kurt's sake.

“Blaine's a good kid.”

This time Val's the one to look away. “They're always good kids.”

Burt takes a step forward. “Then it's a good thing they have you lookin' out for them.”

Val offers a hum of agreement before seemingly shaking herself out of her stupor. “I should get back to doing that then. I'll see you at the hospital later?”

Burt nods. “I'll be headin' back right after I get Carole and Kurt their coffee.”

Val smiles and glances to her watch. “I'll see you in a few hours.”

A wave and Burt's turning, heading for his truck two spaces down. Once inside he only spares the station a glance before pulling out of the parking lot.

He has coffee to buy.

*-*-*-*

Blaine closes his eyes, fighting dizziness as Christine lowers the rail on his bed and takes his proffered arm. To his left, Kurt adjusts the blanket and Blaine murmurs a ‘thank you' while leaning into Kurt's shoulder.

“You're a pro, Blaine,” Christine comments as she withdraws his IV, seamlessly replacing the needle with a square of gauze. “There's no medal for you, sadly. But I might be able to get you some Jello for lunch.”

“Dr. Olt already told us,” Kurt teases, “so I think you'll need to think of another prize.”

“Of course she'd beat me to it,” Christine replies as she deftly applies a tourniquet further down Blaine's arm and reaches for his hand. “Well,” the alcohol swab is cold against his hand, “how about flavor? Any particular kind you prefer?”

Blaine glances at the water pitcher on the table to his left, imagines having something with taste for lunch.

“Blaine?” He looks back when Christine says his name, but closes his eyes quickly when the room spins.

“He doesn't like the citrus ones,” Kurt finally answers, and Blaine manages a half-hearted nod of agreement, ignoring the sting in his hand.

“Hm,” Christine leans forward and Blaine forces himself to meet her gaze. “I can work with that. But Blaine,” she continues as she rubs over the tape on his hand, “is there a reason you're letting Kurt do all the talking today?”

“Sorry,” Blaine mumbles around a swallow, fighting to keep down the water Burt had brought him earlier. “I –” He stops, swallows again. “'m dizzy.”

“Nauseated, too?” Blaine nods and leans back against Kurt. “Is there a reason,” Christine continues, “that you didn't mention this earlier?”

Blaine freezes.

“No –”

“You're not in trouble,” Blaine ignores the way Kurt has tensed behind him, the hiss of breath his fiancé had released moments before. “But I can't get you the good meds without your input, Blaine.”

“Sorry.” Blaine murmurs, “I –” he stops, looks down to the newly placed IV. “…'m sick of water.”

“Okay?”

“He didn't want to risk losing permission to have Jello.” Kurt comments, answering the confusion in Christine's tone. “And I,” he continues, voice tight, “was under the mistaken impression that he wouldn't lie to the medical professional.”

“Kurt.” Kurt's jaw brushes against Blaine's hair as he turns to face his father, but Blaine keeps his head down and blinks.

A sigh, Kurt presses a kiss to Blaine's cheek. “I'm not mad,” he murmurs, adjusting the blankets. “I just don't like the idea of you hurting.”

“'m just dizzy.”

Kurt opens his mouth before he closes it again, lips pressed in a thin line.

“So,” Christine comments as she turns toward her computer, “how bad, on a scale of one to ten?” 

Blaine breathes for a moment before leaning back more fully into Kurt, ignoring the spinning room. “Seven.”

“Okay,” Christine taps something on the computer. “They changed your meds since you've been upgraded from your liquid diet, but I'll check in with Dr. Olt. Probably,” a glance shows her looking to Burt in Carole, “she'll switch the meds back.”

Blaine sighs. “Make me tired.”

“You need to sleep,” Kurt responds. “And,” he glances to Christine, “it'll just be when you need it.”

“Kurt –”

“Blaine,” Christine interrupts, “don't worry about it. I get that meds aren't the greatest, but none of us want you dealing with dizziness and nausea. Besides,” she offers a smile, “don't you want to feel like eating the delicious Jello I'll be bringing you in a few hours?”

Blaine nods.

“See?” Kurt comments as he tightens his grip on Blaine's hand, “You'll feel better and you'll get Jello.”

Blaine nods and closes his eyes, letting himself drift, absently listening to Christine's assurance that she'll be back soon and the quiet conversation of Burt and Carole.

His head continues to spin, however, and the usual hospital smell seems stronger than usual.

Blaine swallows. “Kurt.”

“Hm.”

Nausea builds and Blaine winces in pain. “'m gonna b'sick.”

“Blaine?!” Kurt's voice holds a note of panic.

“Kurt –” but Blaine can't continue, bile rising in his throat.

“Dad!” Kurt's voice has gone shrill. “Dad where's the bowl?!”

Blaine takes a deep breath, wincing when it pulls his ribs. Bile burns, and Blaine opens his eyes in the hope of distraction.

Burt and Carole are rummaging through the tables in his room; behind him, Kurt continues rubbing his hand and keeps a stream of quiet, if tense, assurances.

It's too much.

Blaine lurches forward, crying out even as his eyes burn. His stomach clenches and water and bile hit the floor.

The room still spins, but it's eclipsed by the pain radiating from side. “Sorry,” Blaine mumbles, sucking in breaths, “'m sorry.”

“No.” Kurt hisses even as he moves to stand next to the bed. “You don't apologize for this. Okay?”

“I'll go find Christine,” Blaine hears Carole but can't focus on her, her image a blur as she exits the room.

“Just breathe,” Kurt murmurs. “It'll be okay; Christine will be here soon.”

Blaine tires to follow Kurt's advice.

He does.

But breathing is agony, the fire spreading from his side to lungs. And his nose. And his eyes.

The room blurs, but the tears don't put out the fire and Blaine fights the urge to scream.

Bile rises in its place.

Kurt's still murmuring, rushed words that Blaine can't answer; he cries into Kurt's shoulder instead.

“It'll be okay, kid.” Burt's hand on his shoulder is grounding, and Blaine swallows.

And then the door opens.

“Blaine,” Christine comments as she enters, a custodian and Carole following behind.

“Sorry.”

“No need for that,” Christine answers as she pulls on a pair of gloves and grabs a set of sheets from a cabinet. The comforting hand on his shoulder vanishes, and Kurt moves to the other side of Blaine's bed.

Christine takes their place.

“Blaine. I know it hurts, but how bad is it, between one and ten?”

“He's in pain,” Kurt snaps, “just give him something.”

“Blaine,” Christine pulls his attention, “just give me a number.”

It still hurts to breathe, pain spreading from his ribs and side. “Ni–” A swell of pain steals his breath and Blaine bites his lip. “Nine.”

“Okay,” and Christine's already moving his arm and reaching for his I.V. “Let's get you feeling better then, okay?” Cold snakes up his arm. Another, and then Christine sighs. “Alright Blaine, I'm going to need to change your gown, and the bedding. Just let me do all the work.”

Blaine looks down, tries to ignore the hitch in his breathing. “Sorry.”

“None of that,” Christine comments as she takes a step down the bed, “and these needed changed, anyway. We're just doing it a bit early.”

Blaine can't keep in the hiss as she reaches for the blankets, adjusting his legs as she does.

“Hey,” Kurt's there, reaching for his hand. “You –”

“Kurt,” Christine interrupts, “Blaine's going to need to roll a bit so we can get these sheets, so you keep hold of his hand, okay? Burt, Carole,” she turns and Blaine eyes her ponytail. “If you wouldn't mind helping me with the corners we can make this go a bit faster.”

And then Blaine's surrounded, Kurt still holding his hand even as the room blurs a bit.

“– relax, kid. After this I bet Christine will even find you more of those warmed blankets.”

“As many as he likes,” Christine confirms.

The pain still there, but Blaine doesn't care.

Kurt is more important.

Until Blaine tries to turn so they can pull the sheets to the right of his head.

Pain explodes and Blaine can't stop the choked cry in response.

“Blaine!” Kurt tightens his grip but turns to face Christine. “Can't this wait until he's asleep?”

“Unfortunately,” Christine murmurs as she pulls the sheet, “he needs to be awake. Believe it or not it's easier – for all of us – when he can help. So,” Christine steps back and moves the wires over the bed rail. “Blaine, we're almost done, okay? Just focus on that wonderful fiancé of yours.”

“Kurt.”

“Still here,” Kurt whispers. “And even Christine wants you pay attention to me. So just…just follow her advice, okay?”

Blaine nods.

He has to move twice more, once with Burt's assistance as Carole pulls off the sheet from beneath him and Christine pulls up the sheets to the head of the bed. Kurt keeps a steady stream of conversation through it all, tracing patterns on Blaine's hand.

By the time Christine has pulled the curtain and deftly switched Blaine's gown with a clean one, Kurt has adjusted the pillows and Blaine leans back with a sigh.

The fire is gone, but the room still spins and Blaine blinks, looking to Kurt.

“It's done, Blaine. Go to sleep.”

The room blurs and Blaine gives in.

*-*-*-*

Kurt adjusts the blankets covering Blaine and looks to the monitors. Blaine's sleeping, finally, and Kurt knows he's staring, but he can't look away.

He pushes back a piece of Blaine's hair, tries to replace the image of Blaine crying in pain with the current scene of him sleeping. Kurt unclenches his left hand and moves to sit on the bed, one leg hanging off the edge.

“Kurt.”

“Hm?”

“He's okay.” A sigh. “Why don't we step out for a minute, get some air.”

“No.”

“Kurt,” his father moves to the chair next to the bed. “Blaine's sleeping, and judgin' by the meds Christine gave him he'll be out for a while. You've been in here all day; take a break.”

Kurt counts Blaine's breaths and pointedly adjusts his position.

“Kurt,” Carole drops a hand on his shoulder. “Blaine's okay. He –”

“He was in pain!” Kurt snaps, turning to face her. “He didn't even tell us because was afraid he wouldn't get a freaking cup of Jello! He risked – He was crying, Carole; he was crying and we made it worse!” Kurt takes a breath and drops his gaze. “We couldn't even find him a bowl.”

“No,” Carole agrees, “we couldn't. But you held his hand, Kurt, and I'm pretty sure he cared more about that than the lack of a bowl.”

“It's awful,” his dad comments from beside him, “when someone you love is hurting. But you can't control it, Kurt.”

Kurt turns back to Blaine, watches the rise and fall of his chest.

Two

Three

Four

Blaine's too still.

It's a contrast from earlier, when he'd been smiling.

Because Dr. Olt approved Blaine for Jello –

Kurt steps back and Carole's hand drops from his shoulder. “You were right, Dad. I'll – I'll be back.”

The light of the hall seems harsh, glaring on the tiled floor. Kurt blinks and heads for the waiting room, nodding to Christine as he passes the nurse's station.

He stops in the waiting room, leaning against the wall.

Across the room, a toddler starts crying and Kurt watches as a tired looking man move to sit on the floor.

“Hey,” Kurt jumps and offers his father a half-hearted glare. “Sorry,” his father continues, “but you left pretty fast.”

“I took your advice.”

“You did,” his dad moves to stand beside him, “so quickly you forgot your phone.”

“Oh.” Kurt takes his phone, staring for a moment before turning it on.

A flash and then Kurt almost drops the phone when it starts to vibrate in his hand.

Incoming Call – Cooper Anderson

“Important call?”

“It's Cooper.”

Kurt stares at the phone, unsure if he has the energy to answer and deal with Blaine's brother.

His father is suspiciously silent. For a moment, Kurt debates handing back the phone, letting his dad handle the call.

But his dad never met Cooper.

Kurt sighs and accepts the call. “Hello?

“Kurt! How's my favorite brother-from-another-mother?”

“Cooper –”

“See what I did? Because you're marrying my little bro!”

“Yes,” Kurt sighs, “that is the plan.”

“Great!” A pause, “So, how is Blaine doing?”

Kurt closes his eyes, and pushes away the memory of Blaine crying in pain half an hour earlier. “He's recovering.”

“That's good. So…he's up for visitors?”

“He's in the ICU.”

“Oh,” Cooper's breath is loud through the phone. “Yeah, I think Mom mentioned that.”

“I bet she did.”

“What?”

“Did you need something, Cooper?”

“Mom said her and Dad couldn't see Blaine? But I must have heard her wrong, right? No way would my awesome almost-bro keep family from Blaine.”

Kurt freezes.

“Cooper,” Kurt turns to face his dad. “You didn't – there wasn't a misunderstanding. Your parents can't get see Blaine.”

“But,” Cooper continues in a flat – if confused – voice, “they're our parents, Kurt.”

“No,” Kurt counters, “they're not.”

“Kurt –”

“You know what they did!” Kurt hisses, “You know why Blaine was staying with my parents. You know what your dad –” Kurt breathes out and steps away from the wall. “You know he did,” Kurt continues, “you know, and you still think they should see your brother? Especially when he's in the hospital because of some homophobic monster put him there! Again!”

“Which is why he should spend time with his family, right? It's like when I reading through that script for the While You Were Sleeping remake. The whole family is there for support!”

“This isn't a movie!” Kurt snaps, “And Blaine's family is here, Cooper. We just happen to have a different last name.”

“I –”

“I thought you'd grown up, Cooper. I thought after you visited…but now you're asking me to put your parents' wants before Blaine.”

“They just want to see him, Kurt.”

“He doesn't want to see them!” Kurt shouts in exasperation. “And I can't believe you're calling me to ask for them!” The couple in the chairs across from him look up and Kurt ducks his head. “Just…go back to reading your scripts, Cooper.”

And he ends the call.

“Interesting conversation?”

“What gave it away?”

“Kurt.”

“What?!” Kurt turns to face his father. “Are you going to lecture me for yelling or something?”

“No.”

“Really.” Kurt makes no attempt to hide his sarcasm.

“It would be a bit hypocritical.”

Kurt manages a half smile. “It would?”

His father stays suspiciously silent for a minute before stepping forward. “I've had some choice words for the Andersons,” he comments. “But how about some coffee?” He questions, blatantly changing the subject. “I figure you could use some caffeine.”

“I –”

“Mr. Hummel!”

Kurt turns as his father does, stands frozen as Officers Randall and Daniels approach.

“Dad?”

“I don't know, Kurt.”

“Officers.” Kurt takes a step closer to his dad as the officers stop in front of them.

“Mr. Hummel, Kurt,” Officer Randall glances around the room. “Do you mind if we…” He gestures to the ICU doors and lets the sentence die.

“There's a conference room –”

“Did something happen?” Kurt interrupts. He trips over the words in his haste to ask, crosses his arms to keep himself from stepping forward.

“I think we should –”

“What happened?”

Officer Randall shares a look with his partner. “We need to talk about Blaine's case.”

“I figured that when you showed up,” Kurt bites out.

“Kurt –”

“No!” Kurt snaps at his father before turning back to the officers. “What happened?”  

“We have a confession.”