Kurt woke up early. The routine was nothing new. Ever since his father had been told he had high blood pressure, Kurt always woke up to cook breakfast and pack a lunch so that Burt wouldn't be left to his own devices and make extraordinarily unhealthy choices. While Kurt would have loved to be getting the extra sleep, cooking for his father was a labor of love so he couldn't bring himself to regret the decision too much.

He rolled out of bed and made his way downstairs, setting to priority number one: Coffee.

As the smell of coffee filled the kitchen, Kurt began to feel a little more alive. He hummed quietly as he started making breakfast, egg whites and whole wheat toast with a slice of grapefruit on the side. He heard his father clattering around upstairs, getting dressed for his day at the shop. Kurt smiled as he spread the butter substitute on the toast.

His father always ran like clockwork. Up at 5:30, showered and dressed by 6:00, downstairs by 6:05. He'd always eat breakfast and spend the next half an hour asking Kurt about his plans for the day before leaving the house at exactly 6:45 each morning. It was a comfort knowing that, even when everything else seemed to be off balance, he could always count on his father to remain constant. It was such a small thing, but it mattered so much to Kurt.

Which is why, when Burt entered the kitchen at exactly 6:05, Kurt greeted him with a smile and handed him the plate of eggs, toast, and fruit. Burt returned the smile and gave a quick "Thanks" before going over and dropping down into his chair and setting about eating a meal he was less than enthused about.

He sighed as he finished the small portion, pushing away his empty plate and looking up to where Kurt was packing his lunch into a brown paper bag. "Kurt, I just don't see why I can't have bacon every once in awhile. It's not gonna kill me."

Kurt laughed and set the bag inside the refrigerator, grabbing an apple from the bowl and walking toward the table. "Dad, you heard the doctor. Grandpa died of a heart attack, dad, and I don't want to lose you too. So, if that means hiding all the potato chips and bacon, then that's what I'm going to do."

Burt gave a huff of fond exasperation and reached across the table to tousle Kurt's already sleep-mussed hair. "Your mother would be proud of you. Looking after me like this." Burt smiled. "Even if it is a pain in the ass." His tone took all the sting out of the words. Kurt smiled and patted his father's hand.

Burt pushed his chair away from the table and stood up, taking his plate to the sink and grabbing his lunch from the refrigerator. "I'm gonna take off. I've got that carburetor sitting on my desk that I need to finish rebuilding. I'll see ya later, buddy."

Kurt stood up as well, tossing his apple core in the trash. "Yeah, I should start getting ready for school. What do you want for dinner?"

"Uh, what about that chicken parmesan thing you make, with the green peppers and onions," Burt suggested.

"Alright," Kurt said, smiling. "Have a good day at work."

Burt smiled and turned to leave. "Have a good day at school, buddy. Love ya."

"Love you, too, dad," Kurt called as his father stepped outside.

Just the same as every morning, at least, every morning since his mother died, as the door latched behind Burt, Kurt went back upstairs to get ready. He checked his hair in the mirror by the door on his way outside, headed to what he was sure was going to be just another dull day at McKinley.

And it had been, up until 5th period. He was doodling idly in the margin of his notebook when Ms. Pilsbury entered the room, whispering something to the teacher. The teacher nodded and told Kurt to follow the councilor back to her office.

He knew that something was wrong, could tell by the uncomfortable silence and the tension that hung thick in the air. He wanted to break the silence but couldn't think of anything to say, so it dragged on until they reached her office and she gestured for Kurt to go inside. He sat down in a hard plastic chair and let his eyes take in to solemn faces of everyone in the room, Ms. Pilsbury, Mr. Shuester, and a man he didn't recognize.

While Mr. Shuester and Ms. Pilsbury looked saddened, the stranger just looked bored and aloof, almost pretentious.

Kurt shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unable to restrain himself any longer. "Can someone please just tell me what's going on?"

Ms. Pilsbury shot a pleading glance toward Mr. Shuester. Finally, he spoke. "Kurt, your father had a heart attack at work this morning. They don't expect him to make it. I'm so sorry, Kurt."

Kurt's mouth fell open and he felt ice shoot through his veins as his breath left him in a huff. "Where—Where is he? I need to go see him!" He shot out of the chair and headed toward the door, unsure exactly what his plan was but determined to see his father.

The stranger stepped forward and put a restraining hand on Kurt's shoulder. "I'm afraid I can't let you leave. Since your father is sole guardian and you have no other surviving relatives, you are now property of the state."

Kurt spun to face the man, a panicked expression on his face. "What do you mean 'property of the state'?" He knew what it meant; he just had to hear the man say it, but the man didn't reply. Nothing felt real. He was sure that, any moment, he was going to wake up and this was all going to have been a nightmare. He was sure he'd wake up and hear the sound of his father's footsteps thudding across the floor as he got ready for work.

The man took the bag from Kurt's shoulder and tossed it on the ground before lifting Kurt's arm and sliding on a metal ring, pushing until it stopped to rest over his bicep. His eyes stayed glued to the the band as he felt himself being dragged out of the office. He barely registered anything moving as he was led down the hallway by a tight hand on his arm and shoved roughly into the backseat of a car. His mind was reeling and he had no idea where to begin processing the onslaught of information he'd been given.

His father was dead and he was now property of the Department of Worker's Affairs which was now taking him to god knows where. He was lost.

Emotion finally registered and he felt tears beginning to sting his eyes. His voice shook and cracked as the tears began to fall in earnest. "W-Where are you taking me?"

The man said nothing. Kurt asked again, his voice still sheepish and tiny with shock, but still, the man said nothing. He could barely see through the blacked out windows in the backseat and his view through the windshield was obstructed by a metal cage between the front and backseats.

Kurt pulled his knees to his chest and rested his forehead against them, his whole body shaking with terror and grief. He'd never wanted his dad so much in his life. He wanted to feel his father's arm around his shoulder telling him that everything was going to be okay, that ihe/i was going to be okay. The realization that he'd never have the comfort of his father again brought a fresh wave of tears and panic.

They'd driven so far that Kurt no longer had any idea where he was. Everything was rural, even more rural than Lima, and the houses were few and far between. He felt the car slowing and risked looking up. They were turning into the driveway of a small, gray farmhouse that sat back off the road, a dilapidated barn sat off to the side. The engine cut off and an eerie silence filled the air.

The sound of a screen door swinging shut and slow, thudding bootsteps approaching the car, broke the silence and Kurt buried his face between his knees again.

"This the one I payed for?" A man's gruff voice asked. Kurt could feel eyes appraising him but he didn't look up, afraid of what he might see.

"Yes, sir. He's brand new. Just in this morning," the man from the Department assured.

"Good, good."

There was a quiet dinging as the driver opened his own door, shutting it and coming back to open the back door. Kurt felt a hand wrap around his arm again and wrench him from the car, sending him sprawling across the gravel driveway. He felt a rock tear into his palm, but he kept quiet. He was sure no one cared.

The new man, apparently his iowner/i, circled around him like a shark. He knotted his hand in Kurt's hair and pulled his head back roughly, Kurt felt more tears beginning to escape his eyes.

The man laughed. "Yeah, he'll do."

A frightened whimper passed through Kurt's lips against his will and the man looked down at him again, another pleased laugh escaping his throat.

As he watched the Department worker drive away, he felt more hopeless tears stinging his eyes before falling silently down his cheeks. The man yanked him off his knees by his hair and dragged him, stumbling and occasionally falling, inside.

Tears of pure terror welled up and fell from his eyes. The man continued to laugh. He loved it when Kurt cried.