Closed; Narrative.
Who: Kurt Hummel
When: Early Sunday morning.
Where: L'HÔPITAL.
Summary: Despite having agreed to see a doctor about his powers situation, Kurt goes to follow through on his promise to try and heal Jinx. This is just a record of his thought process during the procedure, and what happened afterward.
Warnings: Lots of introspection about death and dying.
"Where's Mommy?" he asks, looking up at his Daddy. Daddy's crying, which is strange; he's never seen Daddy cry before. Daddy doesn't answer his question, either. Instead he reaches down and lifts Kurt up in his arms, holding him close for a long, long time.
--
Kurt hates hospitals. He hated them especially when he was a child. When he was eight he'd caught appendicitis, and his father had taken him to the hospital for surgery. He'd cried and cried, hating the white rooms and the nurses and the doctors and everything they did and talked about, not trusting them. Never trusting them. It hadn't changed years later, when he'd been holding on to his father's hand, saying "If you can hear me, squeeze my hand. I'm holding yours now. Just squeeze back."
It isn't much different now. He still feels mildly queasy as he crosses the halls, even though he'd done so many times before when volunteering. It's not just because he hates them, though. It's really because he's doing the very thing he'd decided not to do again, ever since last night--last night, when he'd spent minutes/hours/forever coughing violently over the sink, only to see flecks of blood pocking the pristine surface. Last night, when he'd felt more terrified than he'd ever felt before in his life.
This is the last time, he tells himself, and it fits. it's dramatic, in some childish part of his head that still sees the world as one big stage and his life as a string of plays he stars in. He makes one more turn into Jinx's room, where the medical staff is gathered and waiting for him. It's time.
--
"Why isn't she waking up?" he demands, eyes wide and confused. Daddy shakes his head and says, "Because she's real sick, buddy. The doctor says she might not get better."
"But he's supposed to make her better," he argues, angrily curling his tiny hands into ineffectual fists. "Why isn't he making her better?"
--
Jinx looks so small, he thinks. She's never been big physically by any means, but her presence has always towered above her. Now she looks tiny and almost child-like, and it breaks Kurt's heart as he approaches her bedside, taking a deep breath. The world fades around him as he starts to sing.
--
"No! She's not dead! No!"
"Shh, Kurt, shhh-- It-- It's gonna be okay, buddy. It's just you and me now, okay?"
"No, no, let me go, let me go... I want my mommy. I want my mommy!"
--
It's awkward. He sort of knew it would be-- The nurses and doctors standing around, watching him as he sings to Jinx. He can't help but reach down and grasp her hand, holding it as if anchoring himself there, attaching himself to her as if that would somehow make the healing more effective. He really has no way of knowing if it's working. All he knows is that the song has a beginning and an end, and he doesn't stop until the final verse is finished.
Maybe it helped. Maybe it didn't. All he knows is that this is the end of something for him. For a moment Jinx looks different--older, the pink of her hair gone, the grey of her skin turned creamy and pale. And Kurt wonders if I could have done this back then...
--
"Kurt, can I come in...?" He agrees, and Daddy comes into his bedroom, sitting at the edge of his bed. It's a long time before he talks again. His voice sounds broken, and so tired.
"I'm sorry," he says, and Kurt doesn't reply. He just crawls onto Daddy's lap and wraps his arms around his neck, holding him close, never letting go.
--
It happens a few minutes after the song is over. Kurt lets out a sputtering cough, and blood flecks down onto his hand before he passes out.
--
"How does the priest know she's in Heaven? He doesn't know Mommy at all."
"That's what he believes."
"I don't want her to be in Heaven. I want her to be here with us."
"She is, kiddo. She's here all the time. And she always, always will be."
When: Early Sunday morning.
Where: L'HÔPITAL.
Summary: Despite having agreed to see a doctor about his powers situation, Kurt goes to follow through on his promise to try and heal Jinx. This is just a record of his thought process during the procedure, and what happened afterward.
Warnings: Lots of introspection about death and dying.
"Where's Mommy?" he asks, looking up at his Daddy. Daddy's crying, which is strange; he's never seen Daddy cry before. Daddy doesn't answer his question, either. Instead he reaches down and lifts Kurt up in his arms, holding him close for a long, long time.
--
Kurt hates hospitals. He hated them especially when he was a child. When he was eight he'd caught appendicitis, and his father had taken him to the hospital for surgery. He'd cried and cried, hating the white rooms and the nurses and the doctors and everything they did and talked about, not trusting them. Never trusting them. It hadn't changed years later, when he'd been holding on to his father's hand, saying "If you can hear me, squeeze my hand. I'm holding yours now. Just squeeze back."
It isn't much different now. He still feels mildly queasy as he crosses the halls, even though he'd done so many times before when volunteering. It's not just because he hates them, though. It's really because he's doing the very thing he'd decided not to do again, ever since last night--last night, when he'd spent minutes/hours/forever coughing violently over the sink, only to see flecks of blood pocking the pristine surface. Last night, when he'd felt more terrified than he'd ever felt before in his life.
This is the last time, he tells himself, and it fits. it's dramatic, in some childish part of his head that still sees the world as one big stage and his life as a string of plays he stars in. He makes one more turn into Jinx's room, where the medical staff is gathered and waiting for him. It's time.
--
"Why isn't she waking up?" he demands, eyes wide and confused. Daddy shakes his head and says, "Because she's real sick, buddy. The doctor says she might not get better."
"But he's supposed to make her better," he argues, angrily curling his tiny hands into ineffectual fists. "Why isn't he making her better?"
--
Jinx looks so small, he thinks. She's never been big physically by any means, but her presence has always towered above her. Now she looks tiny and almost child-like, and it breaks Kurt's heart as he approaches her bedside, taking a deep breath. The world fades around him as he starts to sing.
--
"No! She's not dead! No!"
"Shh, Kurt, shhh-- It-- It's gonna be okay, buddy. It's just you and me now, okay?"
"No, no, let me go, let me go... I want my mommy. I want my mommy!"
--
It's awkward. He sort of knew it would be-- The nurses and doctors standing around, watching him as he sings to Jinx. He can't help but reach down and grasp her hand, holding it as if anchoring himself there, attaching himself to her as if that would somehow make the healing more effective. He really has no way of knowing if it's working. All he knows is that the song has a beginning and an end, and he doesn't stop until the final verse is finished.
Maybe it helped. Maybe it didn't. All he knows is that this is the end of something for him. For a moment Jinx looks different--older, the pink of her hair gone, the grey of her skin turned creamy and pale. And Kurt wonders if I could have done this back then...
--
"Kurt, can I come in...?" He agrees, and Daddy comes into his bedroom, sitting at the edge of his bed. It's a long time before he talks again. His voice sounds broken, and so tired.
"I'm sorry," he says, and Kurt doesn't reply. He just crawls onto Daddy's lap and wraps his arms around his neck, holding him close, never letting go.
--
It happens a few minutes after the song is over. Kurt lets out a sputtering cough, and blood flecks down onto his hand before he passes out.
--
"How does the priest know she's in Heaven? He doesn't know Mommy at all."
"That's what he believes."
"I don't want her to be in Heaven. I want her to be here with us."
"She is, kiddo. She's here all the time. And she always, always will be."