Broken part 13
I really didn't expect this to work out like this...but Diana Argon is so pretty when she cries. *bites nails*
Title: Tonight is a record to be broken, it broke all over the kitchen floor
Author: Nytegoddess
Pairing: Kurt/Puck
Warning: Still slogging through the angst but closer to the puppy.
A/N: I'm just over 24,000 words in everything I've written for this fic so far. I had no idea when I started...
Kurt hated hospitals.
He hated the endless white halls, interspersed with toothpaste green, and vomit pink, a combination that would never be in fashion.
He hated the hard plastic chairs that were never anything but cold and stiff. Worse were the ‘comfortable’ chairs, given to those who were destined for a long wait and even longer road to recovery.
He especially hated the constant bustle of nurses and doctors, the feeling of being helpless in the important fight to save lives, the reminder of a time when he was too little to do anything but sit by and watch them fail to save his mother.
And now he was back. Back in the endless halls, back in the cold plastic chairs, back observing the bustle of white coats and blue scrubs too occupied with the business of healing to spare a thought for the cluster of mismatched teens taking up a corner of the ER waiting room.
“What’s taking so long? Can’t somebody take five minutes to come give us a damn update?!” Santana rises and begins pacing in front of them, looking oddly vulnerable in her jeans and hoodie, without the armor of her Cheerios uniform.
“Maybe they’re busy with P-Puck. Do you think he’ll be alright?” Tina wrings her hands, turning to Artie for the answers they all want to hear. Kurt finds himself holding his breath, seeing again Noah’s body as Artie and Ella pulled him from the Impala, the unnatural stillness of the jock’s frame as he was dragged away from the smoldering wreckage, and the blood, oh, god, all the blood, pouring from a gash at least six inches long on his chest, staining his grey shirt a horrible shade of crimson, and making Kurt’s stomach roll and heave as he pressed his hands to Noah’s body, trying to keep as much of that precious liquid inside him as he could.
“I don’t think any of his injuries were too severe, although he lost a lot of blood. A healthy person can endure a loss of 10-15% of the total blood volume without serious damage, and he’s in good shape, so that will help. The ambulance got to him quickly and we kept pressure on it. I think he’ll pull through.” Artie’s voice pulls him out of his memories and Kurt finds a little relief in hearing the underlying confidence in Artie’s words.
“Wow. You really know a lot about medicine. Are you a doctor?” Brittany adds to the breaking tension with her trademark cluenessness, staring at Artie with an expectant face.
“Um, no. They don’t really let teenagers be doctors.” He smiles gently at the blonde cheerleader, blushing faintly under her scrutiny. Brittany crinkles her nose and lets her head fall to the side.
“Well, they should. You’d be really good at it.” Everyone chuckles lightly and Mercedes stretches as she stands up.
“Girl has a point. Not a sharp one, mind you, but a point. You knew exactly what to do back there, Artie. You oughta think about med school someday.” She nudges him when he shakes his head, one hand reaching up to adjust his glasses.
“I’ve thought about it a little. But I don’t know…maybe.” Artie shrugs and smiles at Brittany again when she takes his hand. They lapse back into silence, looking up hopefully every time a doctor comes through the swinging doors only to sink back into their seats when they inevitably go to someone else.
“Is there any news?” A soft voice has Kurt’s head snapping round to glare at Quinn, who appears far too innocent in her baby doll dress and ballet flats, one hand resting on her growing stomach, Mike and Matt lurking uncomfortably behind her.
“You mean besides the stunning revelation that you really are that much of a stuck-up bitch?” Kurt pays no attention to the startled gasps from everyone as he pushes himself to his feet and stalks toward the blond. “No, there’s no news. Probably because the doctors are more worried about the blood loss and likely concussion and checking to make sure he’s going to wake the fuck up to stop by and tell his friends that he’s still alive.“ Quinn’s eyes fill with hurt and she seems to shrink in front of him, wrapping her arm more tightly around her belly. For a split second, Kurt feels bad for saying these things, for hurting her, but the memory of Puck, hunched over his kitchen table, sobbing out years of pain and self-loathing, makes it easy to sweep that aside and stand tall and strong as a single tear slips down her cheek.
“Maybe they’re in surgery, trying to fix something we couldn’t see, a brain injury or internal bleeding, although god knows he bled enough at the accident. Maybe he’s in a coma or paralyzed or maybe they just can’t figure out how to tell us he’s dead.”
“All right. You’ve said your piece for now. That’s enough.” Ella’s strong hand moves Kurt away from Quinn and a look from her suddenly tired eyes has him swallowing the rest of his tirade. Ella reaches out and tilts Quinn’s face up, studying her for a long moment as the blond shifts uneasily.
“So you’re the one carrying my grandbaby.” Quinn nods, sniffling and keeping her eyes downcast. “Well. This child could have done worse, I believe, then to have you two for parents.” Quinn starts crying for real, trying and failing to choke back the sounds of her tears, and no one says anything as she makes her way to a chair off in the corner. Ella shoots Kurt another look, one he can’t decipher, and the older woman sighs before spinning him around and shoving him none-too-gently towards the weeping girl.
She’s makes a sad picture, he thinks, a pregnant teen crying in a hospital waiting room. Kurt stands there, wanting to feel angry, to lash out at her, but his own words echo back to him from earlier.
Shit happens and you just have to deal with it.
He takes the seat on Quinn’s side, hesitantly offering his Ralph Lauren monogrammed handkerchief to her. She takes it with a whispered thanks and delicately wipes the tears off her face. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried about Noah and…stuff and I lashed out. I shouldn’t have said that.” He’s speaking more to a spot over her left shoulder then actually to her, but Quinn seems to pull herself together and nods.
“You were right.” Quinn’s voice is still whisper soft and she’s not looking at him either, choosing instead to nervously twist one of the charms on her bracelet. “I needed someone to blame and Puck was just the easiest person, I guess. Plus, he just always seems so untouchable, so unaffected by anything…I never really thought he might care about the baby.”
“Well, he does. He cares about his kid and about you and about Finn. This is really hard for him.” A hint of reproach is still present in Kurt’s voice but the biting edge from before is gone. He forces himself to look at her, the girl who’s had both of the boys he’s wanted and lost them both. Her eyes are red from crying and there’s a serious threat of blotchiness lurking on her cheeks, but he amazingly he can’t see a trace of the spoiled little Cheerio who once tried to destroy Glee, just someone who’s realized all the power they thought they had was an illusion.
“How are you doing?” He blurts, a tad too loudly for the silence they had fallen into, and Quinn exhales sharply before looking at him.
“Okay. It’s kind of weird living at Finn’s place since…Rachel’s offered me her guest room though, so maybe that would be better.” She glances across the waiting area at Ella, who’s gesturing emphatically at a bewildered intern, and then the rest of the Glee club. “I don’t know anymore.”
“Well, if you can stand the show tunes at three a.m., constant exposure to dangerously high enthusiasm levels and a décor that probably looks like what Strawberry Shortcake came up with after a night of bingeing with Betsy Wetsy, I think it’d be good for you.” Kurt says dryly and Quinn laughs, tucking her hair behind her ears before looking at him seriously again.
“Do you think he’d be a good dad?”
He knows immediately who she means by the almost shameful way she asks and Kurt
feels the anger from the bowling alley coming snaking back into his body. He forces himself to draw a few deep breaths before answering with a question of his own. “I bet your parents gave you pretty much everything you asked for growing up, didn’t they?”
“I guess.“ She frowns in confusion and Kurt rolls his eyes.
“You got a pony for your eighth birthday. An actual pony. With a pink saddle. You named him Cuddles and tried to ride him to school.” She has the decency to blush as she nods, still not quite following. “But did your parents really love you like they should have?” Quinn leans back, honestly perplexed by Kurt’s question. He feels himself sitting taller, and knows any chance of him being jealous of Quinn Fabray ever again was gone. His dad might be well-off, but Burt Hummel had still grown up in middle class Boston and made sure his son knew that no amount of money could buy real, worthwhile love of any kind.
Kurt takes pity on her and shifts forward, touching her arm gently as he answers her question. “I think you could find somebody richer, or smarter, or better prepared to raise a child.” She nods in agreement, still confused and clearly wondering what one has to do with the other, but his hand on her arm pulls her attention back to him. “But maybe you should ask yourself if you could find somebody more willing to do whatever it took to love his daughter the best way he could.” Quinn’s forehead wrinkles slightly as she takes in his words and Kurt thinks he might have to break out a dictionary until her face clears and comprehension dawns, relaxing in a way Kurt never remembers seeing her do before.
“Thank you.” She places a kiss on his cheek as the doors swing open again and a harried-looking doctor comes through, gathering the Gleeks’ focus with a sweep of her eyes.
“Any of you here for Puckerman?”
“Yes.” They chorus, moving to crowd around the petite red-headed woman.
“All right. I’m Dr. Frazier, I’m handling his case. First let me say, he’s stable right now.” She waits patiently as they all break out in happy chatter. Kurt feels himself sag against Mercedes with relief as the images of Noah laying dead on an operating table somewhere disappear from his mind.
‘However,” Dr. Frazier raises her voice slightly to be heard. “He lost a lot of blood, so we’re keeping him overnight on a saline drip. He’s also suffering from a minor concussion, a dislocated left shoulder, and a rather acute case of bad attitude.”
They all chuckle at that and Dr. Frazier smiles before continuing. “Now I’d like to let you see him but we need to get in touch with his parents first. Does anyone have their number?”
They look at each other and Kurt clears his throat, wondering where Ella has disappeared to. “Um, his dad’s out of the picture and he’s currently…estranged from his mom. But his grandmother is here. Somewhere.” He finishes with a weak smile as the doctor frowns and the rest of Glee starts whispering about Puck‘s mom.
“Well, who’s his legal guardian for now? We can’t let anyone back there until we’ve notified his-”
“That’d be me.” Burt’s voice cuts across the ER as he comes in carrying Noah’s backpack and holding the hand of a little girl. “Burt Hummel, I’m Noah’s guardian right now. How’s he doing, Doc?”
Dr. Frazier looks back and forth between Kurt and Burt for a second, eyebrow raised, before she repeats Puck’s status. “If you’ll come with me, there’s some forms you need to fill out, and then we’ll see if Noah feels up to visitors.”
“Sure thing, let me just get things settled out here.” Burt nods towards the Glee club and Dr. Frazier heads towards the nurses’ station. Burt moves to the row of benches they’ve claimed and sets Puck’s bag down, then picks up the little girl who’s been silently staring at the hospital around her.
“Dad?” Kurt leaves the others to their gossiping about Burt being Puck’s guardian and trails after to his father, completely thrown by the small child. “Was there a sale at the Save-A-Lot or has she been living in a cupboard under our stairs?”
The little girl giggles at Kurt, one hand rising to cover her mouth, and her grey eyes peek playfully at him from under her dark bangs. “You’re funny.”
“Well, thank you.” Kurt says awkwardly. He’s never been good around kids, if you could count his uncle’s eleven year old demonspawn twin boys kids.
“And you talk like a girl.” She leans her head against Burt’s shoulder, squinting at Kurt like he’s a puzzle she’s not sure of yet.
“Yeah, tell me about it.” Kurt rolls his eyes and earns another giggle. Burt smiles at her and hitches her higher up on his hip.
“Kurt, this is Ruthie, Noah’s little sister. Ruthie, this is my son, Kurt.”
“Hi.” She waves at him, yawning, and Kurt glances at his watch to see it’s almost midnight.
“Hey, Ruthie, how about we get you some paper and a pen and you can make your brother a Get Well card, okay?” Burt ruffles Ruthie’s hair affectionately and she chirps agreement, swinging her legs as Burt lowers her to the ground and then rummaging in Noah’s bag for a notebook. Burt pulls Kurt to the side and by the steady pulse of the vein in his father’s forehead, Kurt can see his dream of ever getting his baby back disappearing in a puff of smoke.
“I’m sure there’s a fantastic reason why, after calling you thirty times since you failed to come home this afternoon and getting no answer, I was cornered at the garage by a some woman named Ella, handed a small child, and told you and Puck were at the hospital, please take Noah some clothes and keep an eye on Ruthie while she goes and kicks her daughter-in-law’s ass because, and I quote, ‘that’s apparently where she’s keeping her brain these days.’” Kurt bites back a smile at the mental image of Ella storming his father’s office, leaving a trail of bewilderment in her wake. “Now since there’s such a good reason, please, I beg you, enlighten your old man.” Burt crosses his arms and clenches his jaw, the worry he’d obviously been feeling for his son now turning to low simmering anger.
“I think Noah tried to kill himself.” Kurt blurts and the waiting room seems to freeze, the whole place gone silent as Kurt finally lets the facts rise to the surface and spill out of his mouth. “I rode in that car just yesterday, there was nothing wrong with the brakes or the way it was riding. And at the bowling alley, at the crash, there…there were no tire marks.” He’s breathing hard for some reason, staring at his dad and still strangely aware of the bobbing dark brown head diligently filling in the words ‘I love you’ on a notebook paper card. Burt sighs and runs his hand over his face.
“Yep, that’s a good reason. Damn, but I hate being right.”
Title: Tonight is a record to be broken, it broke all over the kitchen floor
Author: Nytegoddess
Pairing: Kurt/Puck
Warning: Still slogging through the angst but closer to the puppy.
A/N: I'm just over 24,000 words in everything I've written for this fic so far. I had no idea when I started...
Kurt hated hospitals.
He hated the endless white halls, interspersed with toothpaste green, and vomit pink, a combination that would never be in fashion.
He hated the hard plastic chairs that were never anything but cold and stiff. Worse were the ‘comfortable’ chairs, given to those who were destined for a long wait and even longer road to recovery.
He especially hated the constant bustle of nurses and doctors, the feeling of being helpless in the important fight to save lives, the reminder of a time when he was too little to do anything but sit by and watch them fail to save his mother.
And now he was back. Back in the endless halls, back in the cold plastic chairs, back observing the bustle of white coats and blue scrubs too occupied with the business of healing to spare a thought for the cluster of mismatched teens taking up a corner of the ER waiting room.
“What’s taking so long? Can’t somebody take five minutes to come give us a damn update?!” Santana rises and begins pacing in front of them, looking oddly vulnerable in her jeans and hoodie, without the armor of her Cheerios uniform.
“Maybe they’re busy with P-Puck. Do you think he’ll be alright?” Tina wrings her hands, turning to Artie for the answers they all want to hear. Kurt finds himself holding his breath, seeing again Noah’s body as Artie and Ella pulled him from the Impala, the unnatural stillness of the jock’s frame as he was dragged away from the smoldering wreckage, and the blood, oh, god, all the blood, pouring from a gash at least six inches long on his chest, staining his grey shirt a horrible shade of crimson, and making Kurt’s stomach roll and heave as he pressed his hands to Noah’s body, trying to keep as much of that precious liquid inside him as he could.
“I don’t think any of his injuries were too severe, although he lost a lot of blood. A healthy person can endure a loss of 10-15% of the total blood volume without serious damage, and he’s in good shape, so that will help. The ambulance got to him quickly and we kept pressure on it. I think he’ll pull through.” Artie’s voice pulls him out of his memories and Kurt finds a little relief in hearing the underlying confidence in Artie’s words.
“Wow. You really know a lot about medicine. Are you a doctor?” Brittany adds to the breaking tension with her trademark cluenessness, staring at Artie with an expectant face.
“Um, no. They don’t really let teenagers be doctors.” He smiles gently at the blonde cheerleader, blushing faintly under her scrutiny. Brittany crinkles her nose and lets her head fall to the side.
“Well, they should. You’d be really good at it.” Everyone chuckles lightly and Mercedes stretches as she stands up.
“Girl has a point. Not a sharp one, mind you, but a point. You knew exactly what to do back there, Artie. You oughta think about med school someday.” She nudges him when he shakes his head, one hand reaching up to adjust his glasses.
“I’ve thought about it a little. But I don’t know…maybe.” Artie shrugs and smiles at Brittany again when she takes his hand. They lapse back into silence, looking up hopefully every time a doctor comes through the swinging doors only to sink back into their seats when they inevitably go to someone else.
“Is there any news?” A soft voice has Kurt’s head snapping round to glare at Quinn, who appears far too innocent in her baby doll dress and ballet flats, one hand resting on her growing stomach, Mike and Matt lurking uncomfortably behind her.
“You mean besides the stunning revelation that you really are that much of a stuck-up bitch?” Kurt pays no attention to the startled gasps from everyone as he pushes himself to his feet and stalks toward the blond. “No, there’s no news. Probably because the doctors are more worried about the blood loss and likely concussion and checking to make sure he’s going to wake the fuck up to stop by and tell his friends that he’s still alive.“ Quinn’s eyes fill with hurt and she seems to shrink in front of him, wrapping her arm more tightly around her belly. For a split second, Kurt feels bad for saying these things, for hurting her, but the memory of Puck, hunched over his kitchen table, sobbing out years of pain and self-loathing, makes it easy to sweep that aside and stand tall and strong as a single tear slips down her cheek.
“Maybe they’re in surgery, trying to fix something we couldn’t see, a brain injury or internal bleeding, although god knows he bled enough at the accident. Maybe he’s in a coma or paralyzed or maybe they just can’t figure out how to tell us he’s dead.”
“All right. You’ve said your piece for now. That’s enough.” Ella’s strong hand moves Kurt away from Quinn and a look from her suddenly tired eyes has him swallowing the rest of his tirade. Ella reaches out and tilts Quinn’s face up, studying her for a long moment as the blond shifts uneasily.
“So you’re the one carrying my grandbaby.” Quinn nods, sniffling and keeping her eyes downcast. “Well. This child could have done worse, I believe, then to have you two for parents.” Quinn starts crying for real, trying and failing to choke back the sounds of her tears, and no one says anything as she makes her way to a chair off in the corner. Ella shoots Kurt another look, one he can’t decipher, and the older woman sighs before spinning him around and shoving him none-too-gently towards the weeping girl.
She’s makes a sad picture, he thinks, a pregnant teen crying in a hospital waiting room. Kurt stands there, wanting to feel angry, to lash out at her, but his own words echo back to him from earlier.
Shit happens and you just have to deal with it.
He takes the seat on Quinn’s side, hesitantly offering his Ralph Lauren monogrammed handkerchief to her. She takes it with a whispered thanks and delicately wipes the tears off her face. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried about Noah and…stuff and I lashed out. I shouldn’t have said that.” He’s speaking more to a spot over her left shoulder then actually to her, but Quinn seems to pull herself together and nods.
“You were right.” Quinn’s voice is still whisper soft and she’s not looking at him either, choosing instead to nervously twist one of the charms on her bracelet. “I needed someone to blame and Puck was just the easiest person, I guess. Plus, he just always seems so untouchable, so unaffected by anything…I never really thought he might care about the baby.”
“Well, he does. He cares about his kid and about you and about Finn. This is really hard for him.” A hint of reproach is still present in Kurt’s voice but the biting edge from before is gone. He forces himself to look at her, the girl who’s had both of the boys he’s wanted and lost them both. Her eyes are red from crying and there’s a serious threat of blotchiness lurking on her cheeks, but he amazingly he can’t see a trace of the spoiled little Cheerio who once tried to destroy Glee, just someone who’s realized all the power they thought they had was an illusion.
“How are you doing?” He blurts, a tad too loudly for the silence they had fallen into, and Quinn exhales sharply before looking at him.
“Okay. It’s kind of weird living at Finn’s place since…Rachel’s offered me her guest room though, so maybe that would be better.” She glances across the waiting area at Ella, who’s gesturing emphatically at a bewildered intern, and then the rest of the Glee club. “I don’t know anymore.”
“Well, if you can stand the show tunes at three a.m., constant exposure to dangerously high enthusiasm levels and a décor that probably looks like what Strawberry Shortcake came up with after a night of bingeing with Betsy Wetsy, I think it’d be good for you.” Kurt says dryly and Quinn laughs, tucking her hair behind her ears before looking at him seriously again.
“Do you think he’d be a good dad?”
He knows immediately who she means by the almost shameful way she asks and Kurt
feels the anger from the bowling alley coming snaking back into his body. He forces himself to draw a few deep breaths before answering with a question of his own. “I bet your parents gave you pretty much everything you asked for growing up, didn’t they?”
“I guess.“ She frowns in confusion and Kurt rolls his eyes.
“You got a pony for your eighth birthday. An actual pony. With a pink saddle. You named him Cuddles and tried to ride him to school.” She has the decency to blush as she nods, still not quite following. “But did your parents really love you like they should have?” Quinn leans back, honestly perplexed by Kurt’s question. He feels himself sitting taller, and knows any chance of him being jealous of Quinn Fabray ever again was gone. His dad might be well-off, but Burt Hummel had still grown up in middle class Boston and made sure his son knew that no amount of money could buy real, worthwhile love of any kind.
Kurt takes pity on her and shifts forward, touching her arm gently as he answers her question. “I think you could find somebody richer, or smarter, or better prepared to raise a child.” She nods in agreement, still confused and clearly wondering what one has to do with the other, but his hand on her arm pulls her attention back to him. “But maybe you should ask yourself if you could find somebody more willing to do whatever it took to love his daughter the best way he could.” Quinn’s forehead wrinkles slightly as she takes in his words and Kurt thinks he might have to break out a dictionary until her face clears and comprehension dawns, relaxing in a way Kurt never remembers seeing her do before.
“Thank you.” She places a kiss on his cheek as the doors swing open again and a harried-looking doctor comes through, gathering the Gleeks’ focus with a sweep of her eyes.
“Any of you here for Puckerman?”
“Yes.” They chorus, moving to crowd around the petite red-headed woman.
“All right. I’m Dr. Frazier, I’m handling his case. First let me say, he’s stable right now.” She waits patiently as they all break out in happy chatter. Kurt feels himself sag against Mercedes with relief as the images of Noah laying dead on an operating table somewhere disappear from his mind.
‘However,” Dr. Frazier raises her voice slightly to be heard. “He lost a lot of blood, so we’re keeping him overnight on a saline drip. He’s also suffering from a minor concussion, a dislocated left shoulder, and a rather acute case of bad attitude.”
They all chuckle at that and Dr. Frazier smiles before continuing. “Now I’d like to let you see him but we need to get in touch with his parents first. Does anyone have their number?”
They look at each other and Kurt clears his throat, wondering where Ella has disappeared to. “Um, his dad’s out of the picture and he’s currently…estranged from his mom. But his grandmother is here. Somewhere.” He finishes with a weak smile as the doctor frowns and the rest of Glee starts whispering about Puck‘s mom.
“Well, who’s his legal guardian for now? We can’t let anyone back there until we’ve notified his-”
“That’d be me.” Burt’s voice cuts across the ER as he comes in carrying Noah’s backpack and holding the hand of a little girl. “Burt Hummel, I’m Noah’s guardian right now. How’s he doing, Doc?”
Dr. Frazier looks back and forth between Kurt and Burt for a second, eyebrow raised, before she repeats Puck’s status. “If you’ll come with me, there’s some forms you need to fill out, and then we’ll see if Noah feels up to visitors.”
“Sure thing, let me just get things settled out here.” Burt nods towards the Glee club and Dr. Frazier heads towards the nurses’ station. Burt moves to the row of benches they’ve claimed and sets Puck’s bag down, then picks up the little girl who’s been silently staring at the hospital around her.
“Dad?” Kurt leaves the others to their gossiping about Burt being Puck’s guardian and trails after to his father, completely thrown by the small child. “Was there a sale at the Save-A-Lot or has she been living in a cupboard under our stairs?”
The little girl giggles at Kurt, one hand rising to cover her mouth, and her grey eyes peek playfully at him from under her dark bangs. “You’re funny.”
“Well, thank you.” Kurt says awkwardly. He’s never been good around kids, if you could count his uncle’s eleven year old demonspawn twin boys kids.
“And you talk like a girl.” She leans her head against Burt’s shoulder, squinting at Kurt like he’s a puzzle she’s not sure of yet.
“Yeah, tell me about it.” Kurt rolls his eyes and earns another giggle. Burt smiles at her and hitches her higher up on his hip.
“Kurt, this is Ruthie, Noah’s little sister. Ruthie, this is my son, Kurt.”
“Hi.” She waves at him, yawning, and Kurt glances at his watch to see it’s almost midnight.
“Hey, Ruthie, how about we get you some paper and a pen and you can make your brother a Get Well card, okay?” Burt ruffles Ruthie’s hair affectionately and she chirps agreement, swinging her legs as Burt lowers her to the ground and then rummaging in Noah’s bag for a notebook. Burt pulls Kurt to the side and by the steady pulse of the vein in his father’s forehead, Kurt can see his dream of ever getting his baby back disappearing in a puff of smoke.
“I’m sure there’s a fantastic reason why, after calling you thirty times since you failed to come home this afternoon and getting no answer, I was cornered at the garage by a some woman named Ella, handed a small child, and told you and Puck were at the hospital, please take Noah some clothes and keep an eye on Ruthie while she goes and kicks her daughter-in-law’s ass because, and I quote, ‘that’s apparently where she’s keeping her brain these days.’” Kurt bites back a smile at the mental image of Ella storming his father’s office, leaving a trail of bewilderment in her wake. “Now since there’s such a good reason, please, I beg you, enlighten your old man.” Burt crosses his arms and clenches his jaw, the worry he’d obviously been feeling for his son now turning to low simmering anger.
“I think Noah tried to kill himself.” Kurt blurts and the waiting room seems to freeze, the whole place gone silent as Kurt finally lets the facts rise to the surface and spill out of his mouth. “I rode in that car just yesterday, there was nothing wrong with the brakes or the way it was riding. And at the bowling alley, at the crash, there…there were no tire marks.” He’s breathing hard for some reason, staring at his dad and still strangely aware of the bobbing dark brown head diligently filling in the words ‘I love you’ on a notebook paper card. Burt sighs and runs his hand over his face.
“Yep, that’s a good reason. Damn, but I hate being right.”