Fifth Prompt Post
Welcome to the Glee Angst Meme again! You know how these things work. You can come here and prompt your most angsty prompts, and write stories filling those angsty prompts to let our characters suffer
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a/n: ...I'm just going to leave this here.
Detective Johnson eased into the blood-splattered room where three men lay dead. The men were no great loss. Drug dealers, the lot of them. Whatever they had been selling, though, was long gone.
"Hey, Paul, you hear something?" Johnson's partner asked.
He paused, his gun slightly raised, and listened for any sounds coming from the deathly quiet room. A moment later, he heard it.
"It's just rats," Johnson scoffed.
Olsen frowned. "No, I think it's something else."
They moved together, as the trained unit they were, until both stood in the hallway before a closed door. Soft, grunting sounds and the scuffle of something moving could be heard behind it. Olsen tried the door, turning the knob quietly and pushing inward. Nothing.
Glancing at Johnson, he pulled the door towards them. They both reeled from the fetid air that rushed out at them. Johnson forced himself to turn back to what appeared to be a closet. What he saw inside shocked him.
Burt rushed to the hospital. Carole had the car today, so he'd been forced to take his old pickup truck instead. Her car was in the shop getting worked on by his guys. It had bad brakes. And transmission problems. The tires needed to be replaced, too.
But that wasn't important right now. The phone call he'd gotten earlier, about his boy waiting for him, was what he should have been concentrating on. Funny how the little things could be so distracting when one's mind was racing.
"He's not well," the police officer had said.
She hadn't elaborated further than that, leaving Burt's imagination to run free, picturing Kurt, still eight years old in his head, sick, maybe dying. What he was told when he got there turned out to be worse than even his overactive imagination could have ever dreamed up.
"Would you like to see him?" Officer Donnelly asked kindly from across the little table they were seated at.
Burt nodded. He couldn't seem to speak past the lump lodged in his throat.
They walked down the hallway, past several hospital rooms, only a few of the doors open to reveal the occupants withing, then stopped. Donnelly turned to Burt.
"I know this is going to seem alarming, but try to stay calm. For Kurt's sake."
Inside, his son waited for him.
When Kurt first entered elementary school, the faculty there had set out to enter each and every kid into some kind of safety program in case they got lost or kidnapped. Kurt had come home that day, nose wrinkled in disgust, with his fingertips stained black with ink and a small packet for Burt. He never thought the ID kit would ever really come in handy, but it had-nine years too late.
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Kurt, wherever he was in his head, didn't even notice him, just rocked on the bed with his knees drawn up to his chest. He made strange grunting sounds in the back of his throat.
'Self soothing,' the doctor had called it.
All in all, considering what he'd been through, Kurt looked better than Burt thought he would. Sure, he was too skinny, his hair hacked off unevenly, but the doctors said they hadn't found any lasting damage, no major scars or mutilations to be found. But his mind...that was the most damaged part of all. The most scarred.
"Kurt," Burt said softly. "Kurt, it's me. It's your dad."
Kurt continued to rock. It was like he hadn't even heard him, but when Burt put a hand on his shoulder, he flinched away. Burt jerked back as if burned. He didn't want to frighten Kurt, to make him think that he was one of...of...those men.
He took a moment, waiting for the trembling in his hands subside, before trying again. Kurt was stiff and unresponsive in his arms, that strange guttural noise muffled against Burt's chest. Burt kept one arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other cradling the top of his head, pressing it into him. He kissed the top of Kurt's head.
"It's alright. I'm here."
Kurt was still rocking, never letting go of the death grip he had on his knees. Choking back his tears, Burt finally let him go and stepped away, his arms aching to keep his son in his arms.
"I'm gonna find a doctor, okay? Don't worry. I'll be right back."
Kurt flopped onto his side and curled into a ball. The sudden quietness was frightening. Burt hesitated at the door. He couldn't help Kurt, much as it killed him to admit, but he'd do his best to find someone who could.
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"You mean he's alive?"
"Of course, he's alive. What made you think he wasn't?"
"But it's been almost ten years! Most kids...you know."
Carole sighed, sat in the chair next to Finn, and took his hand in hers. "Yeah, I know. And Kurt, well, Kurt knows, too. All too well."
Finn frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It means he's hurt, confused. There were things done to him that he may never recover from."
"Really?" Finn looked horrified. "That's terrible. Is he going to be okay staying here? Shouldn't he, like, be in the hospital or something?"
"Your dad wants him to come home. I know it's going to be hard, but we'll all have to work together on this."
"Yeah. Sure. Anything to help."
The few times Burt had talked about his son around Finn, it was with a sense of sadness and longing. Finn knew what it was like to lose a parent, but he hand't actually known his father. Losing a child was probably ten times worse.
Except, Burt hadn't lost Kurt. Not for good, anyway. Kurt was alive and not-quite-well and coming home.
Any flashes of jealousy Finn might have felt about the situation, any fears of being replaced in Burt's affection, disappeared the moment his mother told him what to except, how Burt described Kurt as being. Kurt was damaged. Finn couldn't hold on to anything but pity for him.
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"Sorry," one of the nurse said, a small, apologetic smile crossing his lips. "He gets like this sometimes."
Burt collapsed in a chair, his heart racing and his blood cold with fear, as everyone else went to work on Kurt. They had to clean him like he was a child. Locked away, he'd had no access to a bathroom. They could have put him on a catheter, but they couldn't, or maybe didn't want to, keep him asleep all the time.
While out, Kurt was bathed, clothed, and put back into bed. Burt watched them silently, waiting for them to finish. The female nurse who had taken over the main duties tucked him in and ran a hand through his hair before turning to Burt.
"He should be up in a few hours. Do you want to stay with him?"
Burt nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."
The day passed slowly. Burt stayed by Kurt's bedside, afraid to touch him, until the staff forced him to go home and rest. He would have stayed all night if they'd let him.
Kurt had chewed gashes into his arm while Burt was away. Burt let the doctors talk, but their words passed right over his head. Kurt was looking at him. There was no recognition in his haunted blue eyes, but he at least seemed to register that there were other people in the room, people who weren't going to hurt him.
Carole came later in the day. Her eyes filled with tears the moment she entered the room.
"Hi," she said, coming to stand with Burt by Kurt's bed. "I'm Carole."
Kurt ignored her. He had gone back to his rocking.
"Oh, Burt." Carole turned and hid her face in her husband's neck. "The poor boy," she murmured. "That poor, poor boy."
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Sometimes, Burt found Kurt tucked away into corners, in closets and cabinets. It was easier to just wait him out. Trying to force him out was a nightmare.
Their saving grace, their lifeline through this whole thing, was the nurse who came home with them from the hospital. Angie had been the woman who tucked Kurt in that first day. She'd approached Burt near the end of Kurt's stay and asked what they would be doing about Kurt's care, then volunteered herself as an in-home nurse. She stayed most of the day and left for her own home at night.
Kurt seemed to like her. He shrieked less when she was around.
They drugged him at night. He wouldn't sleep without medication, not on any kind of regular schedule.
Finn slept on the couch now, his large feet dangling off the end of the mattress and spare blankets thrown over him, until the renovators got done with the room Burt was adding on to the house. Finn would get the basement back when it was done.
He was a trooper, Burt thought., not complaining once since Kurt had come home with them. Mostly, he seemed scared of the other boy. Scared that he'd hurt him, scared that Kurt would freak out on him. . Kurt had already lashed out at him on more than one occasion. He still had so much fear of the world in him.
Burt couldn't help but check on both boys every night, just to make sure they were there, still at home, safe and sound. God help anyone who tried to change that.
(...tbc...)
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The next time Burt and Finn sat down to watch a game together, Kurt hovered near the couch, watching them. Burt smiled gently at him and draped one arm across the back of the couch in invitation. He could see Kurt battling against indecision and fear. Not calling attention to it seemed to work the best, so Burt turned back to the TV and waited. A few seconds later, he felt the spot beside him dip down with the pressure of slight weight dropping onto it.
Burt glanced sideways to see Kurt curling his knees up to his chest. He was staring at the screen, but his eyes flickered over it as if he didn't really understand what, exactly, he was watching. With a sinking heart, Burt realized he probably didn't. So he started explaining the plays, the basics of football, and the statistics of various players. He knew it was still nonsense to Kurt but Burt figured talking couldn't hurt. It might even help if he heard a calm and steady voice that he didn't feel pressured to respond to.
Finn glanced between Kurt and the TV, no doubt excepting the other boy to erupt in a fit of anger and frustration any second now, but Kurt just sat there quietly. After a while, he leaned into Burt's side. Burt smiled, pulling his son closer.
The touch on Burt's knee was light and barely noticeable, so it took him a moment to realize why it was there-and where it was headed.
"Whoa!" Burt leapt to his feet, hands held up at his sides as if he'd been the one doing the inappropriate touching.
Kurt tumbled off the couch with a 'oof' and then flinched away, drawing his knees back up to his chest and freezing.
"What is going on?" Carole came in from the kitchen and took in the scene before her. Everyone in the room was frozen, from Kurt curled up on the floor to Finn staring at his step-brother with wide, nervous eyes. "Burt?"
Kurt suddenly struck out. His booted foot hit Burt's shin and Burt yelped, jumping out of the way. At the first frustrated cry, as Carole moved from Burt to Kurt, Finn fled the room. The basement was quiet, but even so...after a few minutes, he had to grab a pillow to cover his ears.
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Burt called at least three times a day to check on them, getting a ruefully amused Angie on the phone, who assured him each time that Kurt was alive and well and let him know whether or not he was having a good day.
Carole called during her lunch hour. She and Angie talked about more mundane things, shared some girl talk, and skirted around the issue of Kurt's mental health, mostly for Carole's own sake.
At school, Rachel accosted Finn in the hallway. "So," she said, "I've picked out a song that for the competition that fits are voice perfectly." She hesitated, clutching her notebook closer to her chest. "I-I thought we could go to your house to practice."
Finn stopped and stared at her.
"I know," Rachel hurried to say. "I know you're worried about your new brother. But I really want to meet him. Who knows, he might be a Broadway fan."
"I doubt it," Finn muttered.
Rachel's smile, though obviously fake, brightened. "Great! I'll come over after school. The others won't stand a chance against us."
She turned, her skirt swishing around her knees, and rushed away before Finn could respond. He sighed and leaned against the lockers. This had the potential to be a great disaster. Rachel was so pushy sometimes, Kurt would freak if she didn't get the hint to back off. Finn still had trouble getting the hint and Kurt had been home for three months now.
What if the other guys at school found out about Kurt? Rachel sucked at keeping secrets. If she met him, she’d tell the other people in Glee Club, and it would be all over school in a week’s time, if that. Finn really didn’t want to deal with the rumors.
He’d have to work fast to keep them apart. And lock his door. He had his room back, but Kurt still liked to hang out there, staring at Finn. It was kind of creepy. Like a school girl with a crush or something. That was stupid, though. Kurt was a guy. Guys didn’t have crushes on other guys.
Did they?
(...tbc...)
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"Hi." Finn couldn't help the dopey little grin that grew on his face. Rachel was just too cute, in her plaid, belted coat and little hat.
Rachel hoisted the dish up. "I brought my own dish. I hope your parents won't mind."
"Oh, no. It's cool. I think Mom's making fish sticks tonight, anyway. Or maybe sandwiches..."
"Well. It's good that I brought something, then." She glanced around him. "Can I come in?"
Finn practically leapt out of the way. "Yeah! Sorry."
"I'll just put this in the kitchen."
"No." He snagged Rachel's arm and pulled her in the opposite direction, causing her to fumble with the food. She managed to steady it in her hands, then gave him a confused look.
"What do mean, 'no'? I can't leave it out, Finn."
Finn let go of her arm reluctantly and they headed to the kitchen together, Rachel leading the way. She stopped abruptly once inside. Finn's forward momentum jostled her forward and she had to take a few steps forward to compensate, which put her closer to the table where Kurt sat in his shapeless sweats and knee high boots, an elementary school reading book in front of him.
"Oh!" Rachel tried to pull herself together under Kurt's intense stare. She didn't even notice the older woman across the table. "You must be Kurt. My name is Rachel Berry. I'm sure you've heard of me."
"She's my girlfriend," Finn said to Angie.
Kurt was staring at him again. At how his hands rested on Rachel's shoulders. Finn tightened his grip.
"Finn," Rachel murmured. "You're hurting me."
"Sorry!" He forced his body to relax but still felt tense inside.
Angie stood up from the table. "It's nice to meet you, Rachel. Would you like me to put that away for you?"
"That's Angie," Finn said. "She's been helping with Kurt."
Rachel let Angie take the dish and glanced back at Kurt, who’d remained silent through the introductions. Finn didn’t know whether to take it as a good sign or not; he was just grateful that Kurt wasn’t embarrassing him right now.
“We should get downstairs. Not much time to rehearse before Burt and Carole get home.”
“Right. It was nice to meet you, Angie. Kurt.”
When they stepped out of the kitchen and back into the living room, Rachel clutched at Finn’s hand and sighed. “That wasn’t so bad. Do you think he likes me?”
Finn shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. It‘s kind of hard to tell.”
“Yes, I can see why.”
They couldn’t get to the basement fast enough. Both felt ill at ease now. Kurt had that affect on people.
“So what song did you pick?” Finn tried to lighten the tone of his voice to put his girlfriend at ease.
Rachel quickly grasped at this new topic. “I’ve picked ‘Somewhere Out There’ from the movie An American Tale. I know it’s a kid’s movie and all, but the song is lovely and-”
“Rach. Rach. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“You’re right. I guess I’m just still a little anxious.”
“Don’t be.” Finn leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. “You’re perfect.”
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“Kurt? Finn’s probably going to be a while. You want to watch TV?”
Kurt slid out of his seat. Instead of taking his usual place on the couch like Angie thought he would, he continued past it to the basement door. He rattled knob in his hands and, when the door failed to open for him, began tugging on it, whining.
Angie hurried across the space, trying to reach him before a meltdown occurred, but she needn't have worried. Kurt stopped and stared at the door, then slowly sank down in front of it. Once closer, Angie could hear a girl's voice floating softly through the door, Finn's occasionally joining her.
Kurt seemed transfixed, his eyes wide and hands limp where they held loosely onto the doorknob. Angie let him stay there until Carole came home. He'd fallen asleep listening to Finn and Rachel's voice, but sat up when Carole shut the door, blinking sleepily.
"Come on," Angie said, helping him up. "Let's get you to bed."
"No," Kurt mumbled like a cross child.
The two women exchanged glances.
"Why don't we watch TV, then? I think The Price is Right is on." Angie steered him towards the couch while Carole went to fetch a blanket from the closet.
They got Kurt situated on the couch and covered him with the blanket Carole brought. By the time Pat Smith 'come on down', his eyes were dropping back closed. Carole carded her fingers his hair and he sighed.
Once certain he was asleep, Angie unzipped his boots and set them aside.
It turned out to be fish sticks for dinner. Kurt refused to use the silverware they'd been giving him, so finger foods had been on the menu for weeks now. Angie was working with him on the weekdays while everyone was gone from the house, but she hadn't been able to get him to do more than drink from a glass without making a mess.
Rachel looked rather horrified at the way he shoveled food into his mouth and at his absolute lack of table manners. Angie took the time between mouthfuls to wipe the crumbs off Kurt's mouth. He barely noticed her mothering, so intent he was on eating.
Burt had told Finn the reason Kurt ate like that was because he'd been starving before. Really starving, kind of like those kids Finn and Puck used to see on TV when they stayed up late to watch monster movies together.
Kurt didn't get breakfast, lunch, or dinner. No bedtime snacks or small pick-me-ups when down. He had to have had something thrown to him on occasion or else he'd have died, though. Which was horrible. Finn couldn't imagine going more than a few hours, much less days, without something to eat.
It was a good thing those people were dead. Burt would have killed them.
(...tbc...)
a/n: A small bit of violence in the next part. Let's just say Kurt doesn't take well to Rachel being there.
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and the idea of kurt listening so intently to *that* song, after all he's been through... gah, i think you broke me :( *sobs*
*wants more*
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"I'm sorry I didn't make anything special for you," Carole suddenly said.
Rachel smiled at her. "I should have let you know I was coming beforehand."
Burt cleared his throat. "So what are you guys doing now that the musical's over? You got, what, Sectionals coming up?"
"Yes, but it's still a couple of months away. We're having another duets competition right now." Rachel put a hand on top of Finn's and squeezed lightly. "The winners-which will of course be us-get gift certificates to Breadsticks, like last year."
"Only we're not going to throw the competition for someone like we did last year," Finn added.
"You threw the competition?" Burt shook his head.
The glass seemed to come out of nowhere and smacked Rachel square in the forehead, covering her in puddles of water.
"Kurt," Carole gasped, horrified.
While Rachel cradled her forehead in pain, Finn took one look at Kurt's darkening expression and hauled her up by the shoulders. They were almost to the door when Finn heard the smack of skin on skin. Kurt was sitting between Burt and Angie, so either one of them could have been his target, but Finn didn't look back to check, instead steering Rachel towards the bathroom down the hall.
She jumped at the loud scream and looked nervously at the bathroom door but to make sure she wasn't bleeding. A bruising lump was forming on her forehead. It would be black come morning.
"Do you feel okay?" Finn asked. "Should I take you to the hospital? Do you want some aspirin?"
"Aspirin would be nice, thank you."
There were more sounds coming from the kitchen, of Kurt in a full-blown fit, and Rachel kept her head turned in its direction, absent-mindedly tossing the pills Finn gave her into her mouth and swallowing them down with a glass of water.
"He has a really high range for a guy," she said after handing the glass back. "Does he sing?"
"Sing? Rachel, he barely talks."
Rachel drew her shoulders up. "Well, you know what they say. Music soothes the savage beast."
"Huh?"
"Angie said he likes my singing. I mean, who wouldn't?"
"Yeah, but-"
Rachel lay a hand on his arm. "Finn. Let me try."
He eyed her uncertainly but finally nodded. "Okay. Fine. But you're getting out of there the minute he starts up again."
Rachel smoothed her bangs down and straightened her clothes before going back to the kitchen where the table had gotten wrecked. It was a few inches over from where it'd been sitting and the food was scattered on the floor. Burt had both of Kurt's wrists in his hands while he tried to pull free frantic determination. At least he'd stopped screaming. Now he was just making those weird sounds again.
Rachel opened her mouth. Kurt froze as she began to sing, his head cocked to one side as he listened. It was the same song they had been rehearsing earlier. Kurt listened quietly through the whole song and, when she finished, said, "Again."
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