FIC: Means of Survival

[ladydreamer]

Title: Means of Survival
Pair: Klaine
Includes: zombies, mpreg, fantasy science
Word Count: ~8190
Summary: Burt visits a refugee in the hospital. Finn reflects on how they’ve found ways to survive.
AN: That's it for this week. Enjoy!

The road so far...
The Conception of Hope -> Human Kindness -> No Home Left to Run From -> Chasing Ghosts -> Water Break -> Unsafe -> Only Us -> Meanwhile, Back at the Shelter -> Consumerism is Dead -> Camping -> Night Terrors -> No Use for Wind Chimes in the Land of the Dead -> Meanwhile, Back at the Refugee Center -> Hiccup -> The Fight to Remain -> Contraception Should Be Considered a Staple -> Breaking Point -> Safe Zone

And now...


”I just dunno why you gotta torture yourself like this,” Finn said.

“Who’s torturing anybody? I’m just goin’ out.” Burt grabbed his coat and out the door.

Burt got out of the car, locked it up, then shoved his hands into his pockets. It was so damn cold up here. And he’d lived in Ohio or the Northeast for most of his life. It might’ve been his imagination, too. He didn’t much like being a refugee on Canadian soil. Not that he had anything against Canada, mind.

The circumstances for migrating north hadn’t been the best, though.

”He’s not Kurt,” Finn yelled out the doorway. “He’s never gonna be Kurt!”

“I know that,” Burt grumbled to himself as he slammed the car door shut.

Burt looked up at the large, circular building where he came once or twice a week. It was a bit of a drive from the housing that the government had set up for refugees, but, like visiting the refugee center every other week to look at their list of incoming survivors, coming here was part of Burt’s survival.

He just didn’t have much means of doing that left. The doctors supplied his heart medication without asking for repayment. Crazy Canadians had them all on the track to citizenship, since it looked like there would be no going back to the U.S. anytime soon. He and some of the others were organizing so they could find gainful employment. But he wasn’t much of a man right now, and he knew it. Not by his definition of what made a man a person.

He did his best, of course. He tried to be there for Finn and vice versa. They were both grieving Carole and Kurt. But part of himself was cut off, and he knew he might not get it back. He couldn’t stop reaching for it, though, because that would be even worse.

When he entered the hospital, the nurse at the front desk smiled at him and gave him a wave.

“Here to see your friend?” she chirruped.

“Yeah. How’s he doing today? Do you know?” Burt unzipped his coat and tugged on the front of his cap.

“I haven’t heard anything. Which is probably good news, honestly.”

Burt couldn’t remember her name, but she was a nice gal. She turned to the nurse behind her, Alan, who worked a lot in the wing they’d devoted to the refugees being sent to them from the Center, and he motioned for Burt to follow him.

“I don’t know if this is a good thing, but he’s started flirting with me shamelessly,” Alan said.

Burt covered his mouth and tried not to laugh.

“I think that might be a sign that he’s finally starting to cope. Though I don’t know if he was shy before, or not. It might also be a sign that he doesn’t think he has anything left to lose.”

“Most of us don’t. Once you’ve lost your family, there’s not much else.” Burt cleared his throat. “I’m lucky. To still have my stepson. He thinks I’m out of my mind visiting this kid all the time, though.”

“Whatever it is, I’m glad you do it. He was... When he came in...” Alan shook his head. “I didn’t think he was going to come back to us, honestly. It was like he’d mentally checked out and there was nothing left but this feral animal. First he fought the doctors and nurses, and he bit Mable, which scared the hell out of all of us. He wasn’t infected, but we’ve all been jumpy about that.”

“No kiddin’.” Burt shook his head. “You gotta understand. He’s just a tough kid. A tough kid with a gooey center. He doesn’t know when or how to stop fighting.”

The two of them stopped outside of a room with the door propped open. Burt knew that they didn’t let the boy close the door anymore. Not a lick of privacy. Not since he’d tried to cut his wrists in there by himself. No one knew how he’d gotten that damn knife.

He hadn’t tried to do anything like that since Burt had started coming to see him, though.

”Whaddaya want from me? Are you some kind of perv?” His peculiar eyes, one blue, one green, glared up at Burt between untrimmed locks wavy, ash blond hair. “‘Cause you’re old, and I don’t dig on bald guys.”

Burt raised his brows at the kid, then laughed, actually laughed out loud, and shook his head. “Y’sound just like my kid. Just like him. He was always such a smart ass. Smart. Smarter’n me. But a damn smart ass.”

The sarcastic, bitter curve of the boy’s lips began to fade. He pulled his leg up and leaned his chin on his knee. He stared Burt down for long time before asking, “What was he like?”

“Buenos dias, old man.” Rafe spotted Burt in the doorway as he wheeled himself back to the bed.

Burt crooked a grin and entered. “You feelin’ any better today?”

“My stitches are starting to heal again.” Rafe shook his head and pushed himself up and held onto the bed to get his balance. “Remind me never to take on Hal again. He’s pretty spry for an old guy.”

The week before (after he’d gotten into a fight with an orderly over taking his meds), he’d given Burt the full story of how he’d lost his leg. A harrowing and dramatic, but unfortunately probably true, tale of getting pinned under part of a building near nightfall and using his weapon of choice to free himself. It was a miracle that he hadn’t bled to death.

The other injuries, abdominal wounds, came from being shot by other survivors. When he’d reached the boarder, his wounds had been infected and the doctors had mistakenly put him through the treatment for those who had contracted the virus.

Burt grabbed Rafe’s hand, careful not to put pressure on his bandaged wrist, and helped him into the bed. “You’re so damn stubborn.”

“You love it.” Rafe sucked in his cheeks and let his head fall back on the pillows. “They said they wanted to fit me for a falsie leg.”

“It would probably help. I knew some guys who were in the service who had ‘em. You couldn’t really tell most of the time.” Burt pulled up a chair.

“Join the ranks of the cyborg army. Just what I need.”

Burt leaned forward on his knees. “Show it off.”

“Show it off? Are you kidding?” Rafe wrinkled his nose at the idea.

“To the guys. Tell ‘em about your exciting adventures out fighting the infected.” Burt shrugged flippantly. “Could getcha some tail.”

Rafe’s mouth dropped open and he held up both hands. “Oh my God. That’s like... hearing my grandpa tell me to go get me some man flesh or something.”

“I’m like your grandpa?” Burt demanded in mock offense.

“My dad would’a never been able to even abstractly refer to man-sex. He didn’t even like to think of it... Grossed him out.” Rafe placed a hand on his stomach where there were fresh bandages and stitches under his gown. “I don’t think my grandpa would have talked about it either--y’know, willingly-- but at least he didn’t look like, frightened or disgusted at the thought.”

“It was a journey gettin’ there. Believe me. But when you’re a parent... Learning to get over yourself is pretty much a requirement. You gotta give your kid what he needs, even if it means talking about the sex stuff. Even if he completely does not wanna talk about it with his dad.”

“Your boy didn’t sound like he was the scandalous type,” Rafe said. His voice had grown a little quieter. “Like you had to keep him from going out and fucking the world.”

Burt settled in for another long conversation for this poor, lonely, wounded kid. “I didn’t. He was very much the mate-for-life type.”

***

Piece by piece, Finn cut parts of his old life out of his thoughts and replaced them with new ones. He wasn’t even doing this on purpose at first, but he figured it out soon enough. Mike became his best friend. This girl Van in in the refugee housing became his sort of girlfriend who wouldn’t sleep with him. He shouldn’t fault his stepdad for doing the same to survive.

Still, it felt more personal to replace Kurt. Finn didn’t dislike Rafe. Rafe was a lot gay, and a little bitchy, a little crazy, and who wouldn’t be after spending any amount of time down there? But he wasn’t Kurt. There was no replacing Kurt, and there was no replacing his mom.

They were all living in a house together at the moment, all of the people he knew from his former life. They made little motions. Found little things to replace the old things. Found means of coping, little ways of making it through each day. Everyone had lost important people in their lives, and for some of these people, they didn’t even know if they were dead or alive.

Or otherwise.

Sometimes they’d hear of people in the housing who had just given up. Once Finn had woken to the sound of a gunshot next door.

Finn had started cooking. How he’d gotten slotted to do this, he didn’t know, but it had started with spending too much time with Mike’s mom, Tam. Who wasn’t his mom. And he totally wasn’t trying to replace her by doing that, because they’d never cooked together. That hadn’t been one of their things, so it was okay.

She had given her life for him. His mom. His amazing, hardworking, funny and wonderful mom, who turned out to be fearless on top of everything else. Burt didn’t even look at other women, and Finn thought that was appropriate. Though, he figured if there had been eightish years between the significant women in his life, that was also Burt. Finn’s mom had been an entirely new relationship to him, utterly distinct from Kurt’s mom. Different connections, at different points in his life. No replacing.

And still, Rafe.

Finn sat in a chair watching the delicate-looking kid with one leg and bandages around his wrists, who joked easily with Burt and refuse to eat what the nurses had brought him.

“You got a camera, Finners?” Rafe raised a brow at him.

“No. Why?”

“I thought you might like to take a picture. Maybe you could take it home with you. Just, please, don’t tell me what you do with it.”

Not Kurt.

If Kurt had said it, it would have been funny.

“Babe, those are done.” Van came up behind him and took the eggs off the burner.

She didn’t look like Rachel. Or Quinn. Didn’t sing like Rachel. She was a classical soprano, if anything, and she was no diva. Just a proud young woman who worked hard and never wore anything but tight hip-hugger jeans and t-shirts. When he’d first met her, he’d mistaken her for a boy. He didn’t really know or care what that said about him.

“Should I ring the feed bell? Or is that just for us?”

“Us, I guess.” Finn came over and combed his fingers through her short black hair. She looked up and smiled at him.

“Toast? I can jelly a mean piece of toast.”

Finn smiled and kissed her aggressively. Van didn’t mind a little aggression, once and a while. Though sometimes he’d touch her and she’d just swat his hand away.

”Not now.”

“But-”

She raised a finger. “No.”

His hands squeezed her firm rear end, and she let out a high giggle, before pulling away and mock-punching his arm. Then she opened the fridge. “Where’s the old man?”

“Visiting his new gay son.”

“Cut him some slack. It’s hard to lose a child. Nothing like losing a parent, y’know. A child... losing a child is like having someone take a chunk out of your middle and forcing you to get up and keep going.”

Van had a child. Had. She was nineteen, and she had a six year old, before. Finn wouldn’t have guessed, but after being here several months, she’d finally started opening up about her life, and shown him the pictures. Like how his mom had grabbed their photo albums, she had one filled with pictures of her, looking so, so young with her long hair tied back in braids on either side of her head and with this dark haired little baby boy. Smiling away.

”Honestly, Finn. I need to be aware of what I’m doing, and what I’m wanting, and how it plays into larger structures of domination. That affects you in that I at least know why I’m fucking up. I want to be intimate with you, so much, but I have to be careful. I want another baby and that’s not wise right now or fair to you.”

Finn pulled the skinny, boyish girl into his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I don’t care. I wouldn’t mind, y’know. What else do we have up here but each other?”

“But... no one’s ever gonna replace Jonah. It’s not fair to you, to use you like that. When we do, and I do mean when, I want it to be right. I won’t keep you waiting forever.”

“And Jonah’s dad?” Finn buried his face in her neck.

“Used to hit me. Don’t worry about living up to that asshole. I wasn’t upset to have to shoot him when he came at me, all fucked up and rabid.”

Finn blinked, then he stepped behind her to squeeze her again. She tilted her head to the side, then ran her tongue along her lip and sucked it in as she contemplated the look on his face.

“Juice?”

“Yeah.” He just wanted to protect her and take care of her, and make her happy always. It felt a little wrong to want this with her when the other girls he’d loved were probably dead, but all he really had was this damaged, too smart girl who had been forced to grow up too fast. This girl, this mix of masculine and feminine who could work with him and Burt on the cars, help them build an addition onto their house, and then go in and cook a meal for the whole posse. Who was more comfortable wearing Finn’s shirts even if they were way too big than the girly stuff the volunteers would give her. Who liked to sing old classic rock songs with him while they worked, but could pound out the Beatles, or even the occasional show tune, if Finn let her listen to the song once, first.

It was weird being the one who knew the show tunes in a relationship. But sorta funny.

Van pressed herself against him, hugged his waist, then touched his cheek with her long fingers. “Stop moping. It’ll give you wrinkles.”

“You’re older than I am.”

“You’re startin’ to look like an old man.” She passed him with the bread and loaded up the toaster. “Look, if he ends up bringing Rafe back here, it won’t mean that you loved your brother any less. Don’t you think he’d want you guys to take care of this kid who doesn’t have anyone?”

“Maybe. Probably. It’s just hard for me to get close to him. He’s older than Kurt, and... whenever I look at him, I wonder. Like, why is it that he wasn’t able...” Finn stopped and closed his eyes.

Van walked up to him and held him. “Why Kurt wasn’t allowed to get that old? Why’d this guy make it and not my brother? I think the same thing. It’s why I turn those ladies down every time they tell me I would be great at the daycare. I know it’ll hurt so much that I won’t even be able to breathe. I don’t want these kids to die. I’m even happy that they made it.”

She sighed and shrugged. “It won’t always be this way. You’ll be able to be friends with Rafe. Maybe it won’t be the same as with your brother, but the heart has infinite room. You’ll see.”

The toast popped up. Finn looked at it, but Van grabbed his chin and started kissing him. Then she took his hand and pulled him into the laundry room, and locked the door behind them.

***

A feral scream erupted in the hallway, causing Burt to jolt in his seat. The sound was shrill terror mingled with anger and pain.

The next move was almost instinctual. He shot to his feet and raised the chair he’d been sitting in above his head in like a weapon. Sure, they had the borders secure now, but who knew when the infected would break through? The only security they really had was the herd immunity people were slowly building up through the vaccines.

“Um, honey, you don’t have to do that,” Rafe said. “It’s just the kid down the hall. He’s like I was. Out of his fucking mind.”

“That’s a kid? Christ.” Burt set the chair down.

“It’s the treatment. You hallucinate. You shake. You lose track of what’s real, and then they do it to you again. And anyway, it’s hard to even be in this place, after being out there. All vulnerability. Large glass windows. No place to hide yourself away.”

Another shriek rang down the hallway, and then, “Get away from me!”

There was something about the keen to that panicked voice. Something high, and melodic, and very familiar. But it was so harsh. Burt couldn’t quite place it, but it made his heart ache.

“So he got infected? Or was he like you?” Burt looked back at Rafe.

“I dunno. But he just now came through. Like a week ago. He’s been out there for seven months. I dunno how anyone could survive out there that long, let alone the way he did. There are all these crazy stories going around the hospital about him, though. Like... other survivors who wound up here are kind of aware of how he was out there kicking some dead thing ass. I’m pretty proud, as a fellow high-talker.”

“Really?” Burt stood and looked toward the door.

“You don’t meet a lot of people in America anymore, but when you do, you swap stories about the other survivors you met, just in case you run into one of them. Will these living folk have my back, will they steal my car, will they try to eat me? Like these two guys, Jason and Davis. The big guy I was traveling with took one look at those fools and put bullets in their brains. You don’t fuck around with people you can’t trust down there.”

“Hang on a sec.”

“Burt!” Rafe called.

He paused at the doorway.

“When you’re like that... I don’t really remember, but I think I hurt some people before they brought me back around... Be careful?”

“I’ll keep my distance,” Burt promised.

“Dad to the world,” Rafe muttered as he left.

Burt was just stepping into the hallway when he heard another cry: “No! No! No more!”

“Get back here!”

The orderly stood in front of his patient, hands up and holding a syringe. Yeah, that was gonna calm a freaked out kid right down. The boy, dressed in nothing but a oversized hospital gown and with some kind of bandage wrapped around his head, was facing away from Burt and leaning shakily against the wall. He was tall and slender with chestnut brown hair spilling down the back of his neck.

“Look, it’s just one more treatment-” The orderly moved forward. It was an obvious mistake before he’d done it, but there it was, and the boy shoved him with a strength that clearly surprised the man, knocking him back several feet, then the boy ran backwards a few steps.

“I’m not gonna let you pump me full of anything else! I’m neither disposable or nor your lab rat!” he shouted.

That was when Burt recognized that voice. That voice. How could he have missed it? That proud wit, that distinctive rhythm of speech, and it stung to hear the rough rasp of pain underneath. He rushed forward just as he saw Kurt starting to fall backwards and managed to get there just in time to insert himself as a buffer between his son’s body and the ground. He held onto him tightly, even as Kurt struggled to get away and made more panicked, almost animal noises.

“Kurt! Kurt, it’s me! It’s me!”

Kurt turned his head sharply and looked Burt in the eye. With the one eye. His other was covered with gauze, and the bandage around his head was keeping it secured. His lips moved for a moment, with no sound escaping but a soft panting, and then, “Dad!?”

Burt’s grin threatened to break his face, and he squeezed Kurt with all he had in him. “Oh, God. It’s so good to see you ali-”

Kurt’s wide eye pinched shut and he drew in a sharp breath, leaning forward as he grabbed his stomach. That was when Burt got a good, hard look at Kurt and realized why he had been taken straight to the hospital instead of being shuffled through the Refugee Center where Burt would have found him or been notified that he’d turned up.

The hospital gown swallowed Kurt whole, but it did nothing to disguise the round, distended belly that Kurt was now clutching in pain. Burt felt a shiver dance up his spine, and he reached over to feel for himself, almost in disbelief. Kurt looked up at him and started to flush.

“Okay. Okay, Kurt, just listen to me. We need you to breathe. Just focus on that and nothin’ else, okay? I’m here. Breathe. Breathe with me. All right?”

The expression on his face still unsteady and terrified, Kurt nodded and took a breath as Burt did the same. He held Kurt close and breathed in and out with him for several tense moments, until Kurt began to relax, and Burt closed his eyes briefly before looking at Kurt again and cupping his cheek.

A softness was blooming in Burt’s chest alongside the utter relief of seeing his child alive. Because his baby boy was pregnant. Pregnant! And sick and hurt and scared, and he needed his dad to help him not be so afraid.

“Better?” Burt asked.

“Yeah.” Kurt’s head dipped forward. “I um...”

“Let’s get you up, okay?” Burt tried to lift Kurt to his feet, but Kurt’s knees kept buckling, and he remembered what Rafe had just said, less than a minute ago, about Kurt going through the treatment. Between that and this pregnancy, he was probably weak as a kitten right now. “That’s okay. Let’s um...”

He looked up to see if the orderly was still there, but he wasn’t, so Burt stood and moved to see if he could spot someone to help, or at least a wheelchair.

Then Kurt grabbed his arm. “Please don’t leave!”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere!” Burt rushed back to Kurt’s side and put an arm around his back, holding him steady. “I’m just tryin’ to see if there’s a doctor around.”

“I don’t want see any more doctors,” Kurt said with a little head shake.

Burt brushed some of the shaggy hair out of Kurt’s face. It was strange to see him so altered. Not just the bulging middle (though that shocker had knocked the wind out of him for sure), but the way he looked so painfully skinny in spite of the bulge, the deep shadows under his eyes, the paleness of his cheek, and that hair, so unkempt and just long.

He couldn’t help but give Kurt another squeeze, just to feel the realness of his son in his arms. “Oh, God. Kurt. I can’t tell ya what a lucky bastard I am to see you again. Hell, to catch you here of all places. I’ve been at that Refugee Center so many damn times there’s a print of my ass in their waiting room.”

Kurt laughed weakly and leaned into his father’s chest. He seemed so small and vulnerable, nuzzling into his dad like that, like a little boy (even if his condition sort of argued against that sentimental image). Burt rubbed his hands over Kurt’s arms and his back and wondered if this was the first contact he’d had with another human being in a while. But where was Blaine? He was the most likely suspect here. Mentioning him right now might just make Kurt upset again though, and he needed to convince his boy to let the doctors help him. Burt could see to finding Blaine himself.

“Guess uh, basic supplies are hard to come by out there,” Burt managed.

“They can be five feet away. Doesn’t do you any good if there are walkers between you and them,” Kurt muttered. He fluttered his lashes, then looked up through them. “Dad...”

“What?”

“I... I’m just... I needed to find you alive so badly, I can’t even express...” He shook his head quickly. “We wanted to find you so, so much, but we got your note, and Columbus was on fire...”

“I never should’ve left you. It was the dumbest thing I have ever done in my life. And I’ve done some dumb stuff. I didn’t mean to, but... we thought we could catch up with you, y’know...” Burt closed his eyes. “And then we couldn’t get into Westerville and the others-”

“It’s good you got out. I’m so glad you got out! Indiana, Ohio, they belong to the dead. There’s practically no people there anymore who are still people.” Kurt laughed then, suddenly. Bitterly. “And that’s a good thing, kind of, because most of the people left are worse than the walkers.”

“The what now?” Burt frowned deeply and blinked at Kurt. “What’s a walker?”

“One of the dead,” Kurt replied softly. “The walking dead.”

“Oh. We just been callin’ them the infected. Walkers.” Burt shrugged. “It’s effective.”

He took a deep breath and looked down at the pronounced baby bump they seemed to be ignoring. He didn’t even know how to begin dealing with that. Kurt had freaked out so much about just talking about sex...

Maybe they should’a talked about it a little more.

“He’s here...” the orderly trailed off as he approached them again.

Burt looked back and saw a red haired doctor with the orderly, and the two of them were staring like they’d never seen anyone care for each other before. Maybe they were so attuned to dealin’ with the people who made it out of America stark raving bonkers that it flipped their lids to see the human behavior of a father comforting his son.

“We need to get this patient back to the treatment room,” the doctor said.

“No!” Kurt said firmly.

“Three rounds is minimum for all patients who come in having been exposed.” she insisted.

When Kurt started to back away, Burt held him tight and patted his arm before looking up at the doctors. “He has a name. It’s Kurt. And I’m his father, so maybe could you explain to me what treatment you’re talkin’ about and what it’s going to do to his baby?”

“You’re his father?” The doctor tilted her head to the side and looked at the two of them as though she didn’t quite believe it. “Really.”

“Yeah, really. Look, he’s scared, and it wouldn’t kill you to treat ‘im like a person. And he’s underaged, so I got some say in what you do to him.”

“Not on this, unfortunately. The protocols for keeping RR06 under control are government enforced and very strict.” She paused. “I don’t know what affect it’ll have on the baby, honestly. I’ve not seen any cases in which it caused problems, however.”

“Have you seen any cases of it?” Burt shot back.

“Will... Will the baby...?” Kurt’s voice faltered. He was breathing heavily again.

Burt pressed his lips together, touched Kurt’s hair, then glared up at the doctor. “It looks like it’s causing some kinda problem. You noticed he’s having contractions?”

The doctor dropped down to them and reached for Kurt.

He pulled away from her again. “No!”

“C’mon.” Burt rubbed his back. “We need to let her help. I’ll be here to make sure the doctors don’t try anything funny, okay?”

“It shouldn’t cause premature labor...” She said before touching his belly carefully. She sighed and pulled out her pager. “Jean, tell the boys in the treatment room he won’t be coming back down today.”

“Really? What if he-” the orderly said.

“He’s had two rounds already. We’ll take care of it. But he needs this treatment first, or...” She looked at Burt. “I’m Dr. Bodenburg. I just paged our obstetrics specialist up here, and we’ll see what we can do for your son.”

“Will...” Kurt said again. He was leaning over again, and Burt held him up. “Will the baby be a walker?”

Burt’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at that question. Damn, no wonder Kurt was freaked out.

“What?” Bodenburg leaned forward for a moment.

“He wants to know if the baby’s infected,” Burt translated.

“No!” The doctor looked visibly rattled. “No, I don’t think so. We can have Dr. Redbloom do an amnio, if you’re really worried.”

“If that’s safe,” Kurt panted.

“We’ll talk to her,” Bodenburg promised. “Redbloom is an expert at your kind of case. She actually came out here this morning when she found out about you. You would have met with her tomorrow, anyway.”

Kurt nodded quickly and started trying to take deep breaths again. A moment later a nurse appeared with a wheelchair, and she helped Burt get Kurt into it. He stayed by his son’s side, holding his hand, as they wheeled him down the hall to a private room.

“Put him on his side,” Bodenburg instructed.

Some more panting, tubes and beeping later, Kurt was settled into the bed, looking up at his father. Burt hoped the doctors would leave him alone soon. The obstetrician came in to sit with him for a bit, after putting some medicine in his IV and talking to him in a gentle voice.

“Dr. Bodenburg told me your concerns, and before we address anything else, let me give you my opinion. I find it very unlikely that you could have passed the virus onto your baby. Your chart shows that your viral load when they brought you in wasn’t even high enough for you to infect anyone else, and they’ve put you through two rounds of the treatment already.” She folded her hands. “In cases of patients with HIV, the baby can be protected by the parent taking anti-retrovirals, which is part of what you’ve been treated with. We’ll give the baby a course of the anti-retrovirals when she’s born just to be safe, of course, but I wouldn’t consider the virus to be our biggest problem here.”

Kurt closed his eyes and nodded. “I’m not crazy. I’ve just been worried about that.”

“You’re not crazy. There’s a lot of uncertainty here for you. There’s a lot of worry and anxiety over any pregnancy, even in the best of circumstances.” She shook her head. “But I’m actually more concerned with her development and your weight.”

Kurt’s lower lip wobbled.

“You both came in undernourished and dehydrated, and that coupled with stress is probably why you’re having contractions. I want to try to stop your labor long enough for her to develop a little more. At this point, every day she stays where she is could make a huge difference for her.”

Kurt nodded solemnly. “We tried. We really did try. But they stole our supplies, and we couldn’t find a safe shelter for so long-”

“I know, sweetheart. It’s hard down there to get what you need.” She frowned sympathetically. “There’s nothing we can do about what’s passed, but we can help you now. If you let us.”

Burt squeezed Kurt’s hand. “Are you gonna be straight with us?”

“I can’t make any promises, but I’m optimistic.” She touched Kurt’s shoulder lightly. “I’ll talk to the chief of medicine about canceling the third round of anti-retrovirals. Your blood work doesn’t suggest that you even need them, and I don’t want you to go through that kind of stress unless we’re sure it isn’t dangerous for you.”

Burt didn’t consider himself the smartest man in the world. He could see Kurt fixating on what she was saying about the baby, looking down at his exposed tummy and petting the side where the baby was moving, but Burt had clearly heard her imply that Kurt might not survive another round of the treatment.

There was no way in hell that he was going to let that happen. He just got his kid back!

He turned to Kurt and hugged the boy to him. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll get you through this, one way or the other.” He looked to her. “Can we um... Can we have a minute?”

“I’ll give you ten to fifteen,” she said. “And then I’ll be back to check on your progress and answer any questions you have, okay?”

Kurt nodded. When she left, they were quiet again, until Kurt suddenly startled and jerked backward. Burt looked behind himself, but nothing was there.

“I keep seeing them,” Kurt said, his voice breaking as he covered his eye.

“Seeing who? Oh.” Burt looked at him. “That’s the treatment. Makes ya hallucinate. You’re okay. It’ll stop. Y’know. Eventually.”

“Makes my heart race,” he muttered. His hand moved to his belly again, where Burt could see the baby moving beneath his skin. “And that makes her upset.”

“She’ll do okay. I guess stress is your worst enemy right now. I can’t imagine trying to travel through that down there. You always were a fighter, though.”

“Blaine helped a lot. I wouldn’t have made it without him. Especially not these last few weeks, I just... I kept getting so weak...”

Burt frowned. Should he...? “So. Where is Blaine?”

“I dunno.” Kurt shrugged and his eye started to shine. “They won’t tell me.”

“Probably ignoring you. I know a guy at the Refugee Center. I’ll ask Finn to go down there and see if he’s come through yet. Was he... Was he with you when...?”

“Yeah.” Kurt nodded. “They just separated us, because I got splattered with walker juice.”

Burt grimaced. “Then don’t you worry about him. I’ll worry about him. You... You need to relax as much as you can, and focus on getting stronger.” His rough fingers touched Kurt’s belly. It was surreal, seeing his boy like this, seeing his grandchild moving under Kurt’s skin, a new little life to care for. Even though he’d known it could happen, he could hardy believe Kurt had been willing to...

His heart seemed to swell bigger every time he looked at Kurt... and his grandkid there.

“How far along are you?”

“I’m not sure how long I’ve been here. I was twenty-five weeks when I got here. So, maybe 26 or 27?”

“Really?” Burt rolled his eyes. “So, what, cities are burning, monsters are crawlin’ around everywhere, and Blaine suggests you guys take a little break to play hide the salami?”

Kurt raised a brow. “Well, I started it.”

“Oh, yeah?” Burt shrugged and pursed his lips. “Why do you gotta say stuff like that? I was looking forward to knockin’ that kid’s head against the wall.”

“Dad!” Kurt looked scandalized for a moment, then laughed and just rested his head on the pillow and closed his eyes. “You can’t blame him. Sorry. Blame it on the walkers. They’re the ones who pinned us down in that produce cooler. We probably could’ve gotten condoms from the pharmacy.”

“Produce cooler?” Burt pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think I need the details on this one.”

“I was thinking of naming her Salada. Or Vinaigrette.”

Burt threw his head back and laughed. Kurt sucked on his lower lip, then Burt hugged him again and just held him.

“Well, I’ll take ya. I’ll you both. I’d take you and a passel of little Blaines, anything that brought you back home.”

***

Kurt’s contractions had stopped... for the moment. The doctor had given him a steroid shot to help develop the baby’s lungs, and told them that nothing was certain yet. Just to rest and wait.

An hour or so later, Burt was still sitting with Kurt, who had finally, after a strong sedative and a few false starts that had left Kurt trembling from what he saw when he closed his eyes, fallen asleep. He was so pale and so young, and so protective of his child already. Burt stayed by his side, rubbing his thumb over the bridge of Kurt’s nose and watching him with the same devotion he had when they’d come home from burying Lizzie.

Nothing had been right until he’d had Kurt back in his arms.

Finn’s shock when Burt had called was evident, but he could hear the tears in Finn’s voice. He had a brother again. He had one more member of his family, and probably Blaine, too. Burt hadn’t mentioned the baby to him yet, but he would do so when Finn came to visit. That was a bit much to accept over the phone. Some things you had to see yourself.

“Adopted another one?”

Burt looked up at the doorway to see Rafe wheeling himself toward the bed. He made a motion for the boy to be quiet, then beckoned him forward.

“Damn. He’s gorgeous.” Rafe kept his voice low, then raised a brow as he drew closer. “He uh... Oh, my God. Is he knocked up?”

“You’ve heard a lot about him, from me and everyone else,” Burt murmured. “Here he is. My son.”

Rafe raised both of his brows. “Kurt? Here? Oh. You really are gonna be grandpa, huh?”

“You.” Burt scowled at him. “Sorry I didn’t come back. He needs someone to run interference with these doctors.”

“I get it. Believe me, I get it... Is he gonna be okay?”

There was no sound for a moment, save that of the one monitoring Kurt’s heart.

“If I got anything to say about it,” Burt answered. “Yeah.”

***

Kurt moves through his old house, passing through the rooms like he is navigating a fog. He can’t move quickly. His limbs are terribly heavy, and his little girl kicks and squirms inside him, frightened as he is. His heart is a pounding drum in her little ears.

Things keep coming at him. He doesn’t know if they are alive or dead, but they keep coming, and he keeps killing and killing and killing.

For her.

Desperately he heads for the basement, his bedroom/dance studio, and he can see the draped fabrics around the room as he slowly makes his way down the staircase.

Didn’t he take those down after Finn got angry about it?

“It’s okay, baby girl,” he murmurs. “Don’t fret. Daddy’s here.”

He sinks down onto one of the beds, then grabs a “faggy” pillow and puts it behind his back.

And then Blaine is there.

His eyes are rotted out, his mouth open with lips pulled away, and he growls and snaps. Kurt struggles backward, pleads, for their daughter’s sake, but he keeps coming, pins Kurt down, breathes acrid dead air into his face. A fat worm wriggles out of Blaine’s nostril and falls against Kurt’s cheek.

“Stop! Blaine, it’s me! It’s us! Please!”

“Kurt!”

Strong arms held Kurt fast, and he let out another frightened cry before his eyes focused on the person in front of him.

“Daddy?” He gasped for air, then tried to push himself up. Weakly, he just collapsed back into his father’s embrace and let the man hold him.

“How you feelin’? Any pain?” His father’s eyes were concerned, but rock solid, like he knew exactly what to do to make things right.

“No. No, it was just a bad dream.” Kurt rubbed his forehead. “Blaine was infected...”

“I’ve had those. Not about Blaine. About Carole. And you and Finn.” Burt rubbed his back rhythmically.

Kurt pushed himself up again, succeeding this time, and his dad handed him a glass of water.

“Drink it slow. It’ll help calm you down.”

Kurt drank, believing his every word. “I miss him.”

“Blaine? We’re gonna find him. Finn’s over at the Refugee Center right now. He’ll call when he gets news.”

Kurt set the glass of water down and cupped his belly with both hands.

“She’ll be fine. She’s a fighter. Just like her dad.”

Kurt looked to his father, then took his hand. It was hard to articulate exactly how much he’d wanted his dad with him through all of this, since they were first attacked, but especially when he’d realized he was going to have a baby. His dad said she would be fine, and Kurt believed him.

A nurse came in to check his IV and his heart rate. She asked him a question, and Kurt stared at her, his heart racing. He couldn’t even remember what she’d asked. He just sat there, dumb as when Forest first spoke to him. Burt squeezed his hand.

“He’s a little groggy,” he explained.

“Hm. Yeah, that sedative was pretty strong, hm?”

Kurt blinked at her when she smiled at him.

“Your dinner will be coming pretty soon. Try to eat as much as you can,” she advised. “We want that little baby to get nice and strong, right?”

Kurt stared.

Burt squeezed his hand again and rubbed his shoulders. “I’ll make sure he eats.”

She smiled a big fake smile, then headed back out of the room. Even with her plastic demeanor, she was nice.

“You okay?” Burt prodded.

Kurt frowned and stared at the open door. It made him anxious. He wanted to board it up, to lock the room down and keep them all safe. How did the know the walkers couldn’t make it here? There was a lot of territory for them to block, if they really wanted to keep the borders secure... “I don’t think I know how to talk to people anymore,” he admitted after a minute had passed.

Burt leaned forward on his arms. “Yeah. But... that’s okay, y’know. It’ll probably take some time. I’ve been talking to this other kid. It took him months to start to get over what he saw out there. You just need time to heal.”

“I don’t know how I ever managed to sleep. Even with the sedative.” Kurt looked around the room. “There are such big windows. Everything is exposed, and I don’t even have shoes if I have to run. If I can run. And I don’t have a weapon. My arm feels incomplete without my crossbow.”

Burt laughed softly in surprise. “I’m not exactly surprised they don’t let ya have that. I think the patients would turn their weapons on the doctors. A crossbow?”

“It’s accurate. Quiet. Takes out the walkers and they can hardly hear you... You can make replacement arrows from wood if you have to.”

“You really had to think every little thing through down there,” Burt replied. He watched Kurt with caution in his eyes. And a little pride.

“If you didn’t, you were dead.” Kurt realized he was squeezing his father’s had really, really tightly, and eased up a little. He looked to his father, whose eyes were wider, and more concerned than they had been before. “I’m not crazy.”

Burt shook his head. “I don’t think you’re crazy, kiddo. I think you just got out of a war zone where you fought for survival every damn day. I think you just got put through a treatment that messes with your head. I think your main connection to humanity for the past seven months is missing. And I think you’re pregnant.”

It was hard not to laugh at his dad’s bluntness. He’d really missed that. So he didn’t try. Kurt just laid his head back and stared at the ceiling. He tapped the side of his belly where his daughter was moving a little sluggishly (probably as doped as he was) and listened to the sounds of the hospital. His dad didn’t move from his side.

It was like he was expecting Kurt to be this fucked up. Like he had faith Kurt would get through it just fine, not just because he had faith in his son’s ability to persevere. Like he’d seen it before.

Kurt rolled his head over to look at his dad. “Other kid?”

Burt shrugged. “Like I said. I know a guy at the Refugee Center. He knew of this gay kid who came through here, hurt and confused. Most of the kids who wind up in the hospitals are. We’ve been talking for a couple of months. He’s... not quite there yet, but he’s gotten a lot better.”

Kurt stared at him blankly for a moment. “Is he still in the hospital?”

“Yeah, he was pretty badly injured.”

“Can I see him sometime?”

“I told him when you were ready I wanted him to meet you. He’s suffered through a billion stories about you by now.” Burt laughed once. “I wasn’t trying...”

“Trying to what?” Kurt raised his brows. When his dad said nothing, Kurt smiled softly. “I’m glad he had you. I hope... I hope Blaine goes the same way. I hope someone’s looking out for him now that he’s alone. He was kind of...”

Kurt could hear his voice starting to grow thick. “He was starting to really lose it. At first he was the one who was so human, and not willing to hurt anyone. But... around the time those men stole our car and supplies and left us on the road. And the weaker I got...” He shook his head and covered his mouth. “I mean, I just couldn’t be the hardass anymore. He had to protect us, so... I hope somebody is there to watch after him. I hope they didn’t separate him from Forest. He’s a guy we met with his daughter, and he helped us get to the checkpoint.”

“When we find ‘im, we’ll get him right, too,” Burt said confidently. “Maybe you guys won’t ever be the same, but we’re... y’know. We’re together. We found each other. After that miracle, I have faith we can get you and this baby healthy, and get Blaine’s head screwed back on straight.”

“Maybe not straight,” Kurt muttered.

“Pfft. Well, then we’ll get it screwed on queer.”

Kurt bowed his head and giggled softly, the weight on his shoulders growing just a bit lighter.

How to Save Your Life