Kurt was home within a day. Rachel had stayed behind in New York; she'd moved out over a year ago, but said she'd keep the place warm for when he got back, whenever that might be. So he'd left her there, taken only one bag with him on the soonest flight he could get, and he arrived home at 10:03 PM the night after he'd gotten the phone call from his dad.

Burt hugged him hard as soon as he got in the door.

"I wanna see him now."

"It's past visiting hours, son."

"I don't care, Dad. I want to see him."

Burt sighed, exasperated already. Kurt looked at him. He was tired. He'd had a long week. It was written on his face. Kurt felt guilty.

"We can see him first thing tomorrow. How's that?"

"...Yeah. That's fine, Dad."

Burt clapped him on the shoulder and shuffled towards the kitchen. "How about some tea?"

"Since when do you make tea?" Kurt asked, but he didn't turn him down. He put his bag on the floor by the coat rack and followed Burt.

"Since I knew you were coming home. I bought this vanilla...crap, it's s'posed to ease stress, but..."

Kurt laughed. "Sure. I'll have some, Dad."

Once the tea was made, they sat together in the living room. Burt's face was serious.

"...Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"I guess there's no point in waiting." Burt took a breath. "He got beat up in an alley just outside of Columbus. They really, uh...they did a number on him."

"Columbus? That's over an hour away."

"Yeah. They airlifted him here, 'cause they thought..." Burt stopped. He reached for his tea and took a sip. It didn't go down right and he coughed a little. "They figured he wouldn't make it. Wanted him to be near family."

Kurt didn't know what to say. He was sure he had questions, but he couldn't think of any.

"And--something else." Burt looked at Kurt intently. "He was with somebody."

"What, a friend? Was it anybody I know? Is there someone else--"

"No, Kurt, I don't think it's anybody you know. Some...some guy he was seeing at college..." He waited to gauge Kurt's reaction. There was none. "But the guy--he got attacked, too, they were both attacked."

Kurt shook his head, not understanding. "Why are you telling me this?"

"'Cause the guy he was with--" Burt paused again. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "That poor kid didn't make it, Kurt. He didn't survive the attack."

Kurt drew in a breath. He didn't realize he was still holding his tea until a little of it splashed hot onto his knee. He looked down. His hands were shaking.

"Kurt."

Kurt put the tea on the table and dabbed at the spot of it on his jeans. It wouldn't come out.

"Kurt."

He looked up at his dad. Burt looked sadder than he'd seen him in years; he hadn't seen his dad like this since his mom died.

Burt reached over the table and pulled Kurt's hand into his own.

"We're gonna go see Blaine tomorrow, okay?"

Kurt nodded numbly.

"I can't promise it'll be pretty. I don't want you to get your hopes up. He's out of it; in a coma; he can't hear us, he doesn't know we're there. And they--" he hesitated again, bringing his other hand around to wrap around Kurt's. Kurt felt his grip tighten. "The doctors don't know if he'll wake up. But we're gonna go see him. That's the best I can give you. Okay?"

Kurt nodded again, keeping his eyes trained on his shoes. He saw a drop fall on the toe of his boot, and then another, and it registered that he was crying.

Burt stood up and tugged Kurt into another hug. It felt suddenly to Kurt like he hadn't been hugged by his dad in years. Like he hadn't been home in years, and he was coming home for the first time now. Even though Thanksgiving break hadn't been so long ago, and he'd been home then. He curled into Burt and cried.

"Okay, son. We're gonna be okay."

They stood like that for a minute, and Kurt's brain seemed to start working again. It was groggy, but he had a question.

"Did they catch them? The ones who did it?"

Burt hugged Kurt harder. "Yeah. They got 'em."