Fic: Mad World, Chapter 7 (Second Half)
"Hi, Mr. Hummel," she said in that same quiet tone she'd used in the hospital. "Um, Mrs. Hudson said I could come for dinner, and you said I was welcome any time . . . so I decided to come a little early, if that's okay?"
He ushered her inside, keeping a hand hovering in mid-air in case she needed help. She was a bit awkward with her hurt ankle, but she managed to get in without much stumbling. He shut the door behind her. "You can come on by anytime . . . sorry, I can't remember your name, it's something like Eva, right? I feel real bad for not knowing."
"Ida," she corrected with a tentative smile. "And I only mentioned it once, and you were so worried about Kurt . . . it's fine."
Burt nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You doin' okay, Ida?"
She tilted her head, neither nodding or shaking it. "I, I guess. It's . . . a hard thing to get over. I don't think . . ." She shook her head then, taking a moment to gather herself. "Never mind. How's Kurt?"
He jerked his head towards the living room, where there was laughter and muted conversation still going on. "Why don't you go take a look for yourself?"
Ida's eyes widened fractionally, but Burt saw it. She resumed chewing on her lip and flicked one of her dark red braids over her shoulder. He took one hand out of his pockets, putting it on her elbow. "Hey, you don't need to be scared or nothing. Kurt's so grateful to you. You were one of the first things he asked about when he woke up yesterday."
The girl actually gave him a real, honest smile at that, even if it was tinged with disbelief.
Even so, she kept right on hesitating, fumbling a bit with her crutches. Burt used the hand on her elbow to lightly guide her, slowly but surely. He didn't understand why she was so nervous, but he got that she, like Kurt, had some things to deal with. Witnessing something like that - if the situation had been reversed, and Kurt had been the one to walk in on something that horrible . . . Well, if he could have reversed it, he would have, he wasn't ashamed to admit, but on the whole, he would rather the whole damn thing had never happened, because it was nightmarish either way.
"Your mom drop you off? She could've come in if she wanted to."
"Thank you, but she's barely let me breathe since I got back from the hospital. I wanted to do this myself."
Burt let her pause upon seeing Kurt, sitting happily next to Mercedes, now sharing teasing looks with Blaine as Finn, having returned from his chat with his girlfriend, told them some wild story with huge gestures and silly faces while sitting on the coffee table.
Ida stood there, taking it in with a wistful expression, and Burt had no clue what the hold up was, but he was willing to wait.
She'd been the same when he'd spoken to her at the hospital the night before last: quiet and unassuming. He'd been surprisingly patient then too, all things considered.
"Mr. Hummel!" One of the officers cut him off on the way to see his son. The doctor said they were wrapping up a couple of final tests, and Kurt would be all his. Just another five or ten minutes.
"Yes, Officer Henderson?" He was the same cop that had allowed Burt to have Kurt's phone despite the fact that he suspected it wasn't something the officer was supposed to have done. With that in mind, Burt let the other man waylay him. "You got some news for me?"
"Well, sir, we've taken the witness' statement, and are going to take in a suspect for questioning - we just wanted you to know that we're giving this our all, and the person or persons who did this to your son, they are not going to get away with it."
Burt gave the man a look, not sure why he was going out of his way to be this open and honest with him. "Why are you telling me this?"
Officer Henderson, a tall black man who looked like he could put down even that Puckerman kid, smiled. "Because I'm a father. And if somebody pulled this kind of crap on me - did something like this to my boy? I would iron them out, no question, law be damned. I figure if I don't give my word, let you know what's going on, you're going to try and find out yourself. Maybe get yourself into some trouble. So here's me letting you know what's what."
Burt leaned back on his heels, crossing his arms. He wasn't going to lie and say that his initial response, after blind panic, hadn't been violent - that he hadn't wanted to take whoever did this to Kurt down for a drive to a secluded wooded area and give them a taste of their own pain. And he wasn't going to lie and say that he trusted these men to do their jobs. The words 'hate crime' hadn't come up, and he wasn't expecting them to.
But he acknowledged the fact that these cops seemed to know what they were doing and this guy seemed genuine. Henderson had taken the time to question him briefly, confirming that Kurt was being bullied, and that the name the girl had mentioned was, in fact, one of Kurt's worse tormentors (Burt had made sure to mention Karofsky as the other, and went so far as to say that they should arrest him as well). The issue of his son's orientation was mentioned only in passing. Burt didn't know what to make of it, but the fact that these officers were taking this so seriously, and clearly did a good job at keeping the chaos at McKinley from turning into a blood bath, meant that there might be some justice for Kurt in the end. Officer Henderson seemed particularly invested in making sure of that.
"We'll be stopping by sometime tomorrow, to question that Karofsky boy - he's being released in the morning. If your boy's awake by then, we're going to have to take his statement too." He sounded apologetic about it. Burt nodded, trying to swallow around a suddenly dry mouth. That was something he both wanted - to hear exactly what had happened - and dreaded, because he truly wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle hearing it all from his son's own lips. "Now, the girl wanted to speak with you," Henderson said. "She's in there with her mother right now, and asked if you could come in to see her."
Burt cast a glance to Kurt's room, and seeing no doctor leaving it, or on the approach, he followed Henderson to another room down at the other end of the hall.
When he walked through the door, Henderson gave him a quick nod as he turned away, leaving to arrest the person that had put his son in this hospital.
"You're Burt Hummel, right?" A tall, willowy woman with hair a shade darker than her daughter's stood up and reached out a hand. "I'm Mona Callaghan, and I can't tell you how sorry I am, about your son."
Burt shook her hand. "I'm sorry your daughter had to go through that, but I'm so damn thankful she was there."
Mona turned to her daughter, who was sitting up in the bed, watching Burt and wrapping her arms around herself. "So, do you want me to stay, baby?"
She shook her head. "No, mom, it's okay. I kinda wanted to talk to Mr. Hummel alone."
Her mom nodded as if she expected that and, with a small smile for Burt, she stepped out of the room. Burt stood there, shoving his hands in his pockets, watching this girl. She wasn't small, like Rachel - in fact, she looked like she was maybe only a couple inches shorter than Kurt, who was getting up there in height. It was hard to tell with her half lying down. She had her hair in two messy braids, and her lips were cracked and bleeding in some spots, like she'd been chewing on them constantly.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hummel, sir," she began, her voice raspy. "I wanted to . . . I wanted to talk to you, but I didn't actually think about what I was going to say."
He glanced towards the chair Mona Callaghan had been sitting in, and sat down himself, trying to appear less imposing. "Well, if you ain't too sure where to start, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"
She shook her head.
"What's your name?"
"Ida," she murmured, not quite meeting his eyes.
"Okay, Ida, I . . . I figure this might be a bit awkward for you and all, but . . . could you tell me some of what you told the cops?" Her eyes widened and he hurried on. "You don't have to tell me if it's -"
"It's not . . ." She breathed out, one knee coming up, then wincing when she tried to pull her other leg close to her chest. She rubbed at her calf, just above a seriously swollen ankle.
Burt stared for a minute. "Geez, did that sonuvabitch do that to you?"
"Sort of - he, he was going to hurt me, and when he jumped I think I twisted it, landed on it wrong."
Burt felt his face twist into an expression of disgust. "Fucking coward - sorry - only true jackasses attack women."
Some of the tension left her body at those words. She smiled, fleetingly, but it was there. "That's exactly what Kurt said just before Azimio tried to hurt me."
Burt leaned forward. "I'm going to have to take credit for that. Kurt was a pushy thing when he was little and . . ." He had to pause, his voice giving out as he forced down some tears, but he continued on, watching her relax as he spoke. "And, uh, he used to push his little cousin down whenever she got into his things, which was every single time she was over. I gave him the 'guys don't hit girls, and if they do, they're pathetic' lecture more than once. Then he started being sneakier about it. I think one time he told her that boy cooties were real and that you could get sick and die from them. She never came near him or his stuff after that."
Ida snorted, covering her mouth with one hand. "Sorry, it's just . . . he's always been . . . the way he is, then?"
Burt knew she wasn't talking about the fact that Kurt was gay. "Yeah, he's pretty much always been like he is now - except his vocabulary is loads more impressive and he doesn't pitch fits. He just reasons me to death with lectures and debates, and then he'll do this pouty thing with his lips and his eyes . . . kid usually gets what he wants, when it isn't too out there." Like admission into Dalton, he thought to himself. Kurt hadn't asked for that, and he never would have, considering how expensive the place was, but Burt was sending him there if he had to sell his garage to do it - no way Kurt was setting foot in McKinley ever again.
"That's neat." Ida played with her covers, adjusting her foot and pulling up on the blankets as a random bout of shivers overtook her. She huddled within her cocoon of cotton, and appeared to be lost in thought.
Burt waited until she lifted her head again to look at him before asking, "Do you think you could tell me about what happened?"
She took in a deep breath, exhaled, and then began to speak in a low, whispery tone, "It was mostly a fluke, Mr. Hummel. I heard Azimio taking about his plan, and just . . . sort of figured out where and when, though the 'what, how' was a bit fuzzy. I didn't really think it through when I was walking into that locker room - and I should've run, or called for help or something as soon as I . . . as soon as I saw Kurt, on the floor, all wet and bleeding and hurt." She gasped out the last part, eyes shutting tightly, shuddering.
There was bile pushing at the back of Burt's throat and he had to breathe in and out deliberately, several times. "Oh . . . okay."
"I don't know what happened before I got there, but Kurt was soaking wet, and bruised up all over, and . . ." She paused, her eyes fluttering open and watching him. "Mr. Hummel, are you sure you want to hear this?"
He was making two fists, staring down at them, trying to keep his calm. To keep from following those cops, or tracking down Karofsky who was somewhere in this hospital right now.
"Karofsky, when did he come into this?" he asked calmly.
"He . . . it was after Azimio tried to attack me - Karofsky showed up, pulled him off me. He got Azimio to leave, and then he . . ." She tilted her head, expression confused. "It was weird. He hung around, and just . . . looked at us. Looked at Kurt. I get the feeling there was something there I was missing."
Burt nodded, because he knew what this 'missing' something was. It set his teeth on edge, but it seemed like Karofsky hadn't been out to hurt or . . . touch . . . his boy.
He listened as she explained how the jock had actually given her a phone to call the cops with, to rat out his friend, and Burt didn't really know what to make of that. Maybe Kurt had been right not to out the kid, but at the moment, all Burt could think of was his son, bleeding and shivering on a cold locker room floor, thanks to Karofsky's best buddy. His dull fingernails dug into the palms of his hands and he ground his teeth as he imagined all too clearly the pain and fear on his boy's features. Kurt was a strong kid but (it broke something inside him to admit this, even just in his thoughts) he wasn't sure if this was something that Kurt could just pack away and move on from. In fact, he knew that that couldn't be the case. Kurt was going to be hurting long after the bruises and cuts faded away.
He tuned back into Ida's voice for the end of her story, trying to force the horrifying images and dark thoughts to the back of his mind - he didn't quite succeed, but he managed to focus on the girl again.
"Karofsky asked me to not mention that he'd been there, but there was no way I was letting either him or Azimio get away with that. No way." Her eyes flashed and she sat upright. "I watch them get away with it every day at school, and this time it was too much."
She deflated after that, her cheeks flushed, but she managed to keep eye contact with him, and her voice, which had risen above a whisper into something strong and clear, didn't fade back.
"I think Kurt's so amazing, Mr. Hummel, to survive that. He kept me going, even though I hadn't tried to . . . "
He reached out as she started withdrawing, falling back into herself, and grabbed a small hand in his. She was cold, and he remembered what the doctor had said about hypothermia, and tried to rub some warmth back into her fingers. "You are amazing. You did something that Kurt's teachers and principal refused to do. You stood up for him, and I can't . . ." He knew he was crying, but he couldn't help it this time - not with the image of Kurt, cold, wet, and alone, getting kicked and punched, laying on a damp floor, probably wondering if he was going to live to see another day. Burt wondered if Kurt had cried out for him, crying for his father to come running in to save him.
"I can't thank you enough," he said after clearing his throat twice. "You saved him. And in saving him, you saved me. You're something else. Thank you, so much."
"Hey, Ida!" Finn stood up and walked over to them with a wide, inviting smile.
"F-Finn," she stuttered out. "Hi."
"My mom said you were coming by for dinner, but I totally forgot about it 'til just now." He was grabbing at her crutches, handing them to Burt, and helping her hop over to the couch. Blaine, Mercedes and Kurt had gone quiet, looking over at them. While Blaine didn't seem to know her (though Burt couldn't recall her meeting Finn either) Mercedes gave her a sweet smile.
"Hey Ida, it's nice to see you again." Burt could vaguely remember Mercedes coming into Ida's room after him, but the doctor had been leading him to Kurt's side, and all his senses had pretty much been focused on that.
"Um, hi," she said again. Her eyes were trained on Mercedes, as if she was afraid of the boy sitting next to her.
Kurt was staring, his smile gone. His eyes glazed over and, for a minute, Burt was worried he was going to have a panic attack. Kurt looked like he was forcing himself to keep breathing evenly; Mercedes reached over with one hand, wrapping her fingers around his. "Kurt? Hey, pretty boy, you with us?"
Blaine was leaning in closer, his own hand hovering over Kurt's knee, then being pulled back to his lap. Finn was kept holding Ida up with one arm, looking unsure as to what was happening.
But Kurt came back to them soon enough, blinking once, and then giving Ida a quick up and down sweep. "You hurt your ankle?" He sounded dazed.
Ida nodded, glancing down at her foot and then seemingly forcing herself to make eye contact. "Yeah. Just when . . . when he tackled me."
Kurt nodded. "But it's not too bad, right?"
"No. And you? You . . . you seem okay?"
He huffed a bit at that, squeezing Mercedes' hand. "I . . . suppose that's one way to put it. I'm okay, I'm alive, thanks to you."
Ida shook her head, and Finn finally managed to get her to sit down, Blaine moving over so she could sit near Kurt. "Don't thank me. What else could I do, in that situation?"
"What everybody else was doing, of course," Kurt said with a sarcastic, bitter smile. "Look away, ignore it. Pretend it wasn't happening. Or just not care."
Mercedes winced, looking guiltily down at her lap, and Finn was studying his feet with great concentration. Burt couldn't help but feel stung a little as well - as Kurt's father, he should've done something as soon as he knew how hard a time Kurt was having at school.
Ida shook her head. "I was - I mean, I knew what you were going through. I watched it happen every day, and just because I managed to help you once -"
"When it most counted," Kurt pointed out. "And it's not like I've made any complaints to the staff . . . or stood up for the other kids that were being bullied -"
"Lies," Mercedes interrupted. "You stood up for Tina!"
"And you took a slushie in the face for me!" Finn joined in. "I know that wasn't exactly the same thing, but it mattered, dude!"
Kurt waved off their exclamations. "So, don't be too hard on yourself for that. Now, moving on - have you been at McKinley long?"
"No, just about a month," she said timidly. "But I, I haven't really made any friends. I like my solitude, I suppose, or at least I did, until I . . . heard about you." She blushed here, dropping her gaze. "You sort of . . . I always wanted to talk to you but . . ." Ida shrugged, laughing to herself. "Sorry, I'm such an inarticulate bumble." Her hesitance made sense to Burt now, and he couldn't help liking this girl for it. Mercedes was grinning at her, and Finn was shaking his head, smiling at her shyness.
Kurt arched an eyebrow, tossing his bangs off his forehead. "Well, allow me to formally introduce myself." He raised his hand up. "My name is Kurt Hummel, and you, my lovely lady?"
"Ida, Ida Callaghan." Burt watched as she lifted her own hand, trembling, placing it in his so softly and gently it looked like they were hardly touching.
Kurt gripped her firmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ida, and may I say, nicely done - you know, saving my life and all."
There were tears sparkling in her eyes but she smiled widely. "It was my pleasure, Kurt Hummel - if only so you could live to give me fashion advice and take me for drives in your pimped out ride."
Everyone, including Burt, burst out into laughter, giggles or chuckles.
Carole wandered back into the living room, holding a fresh bowl of popcorn. "Okay, gang, I say we order pizza, and start that movie again from the beginning, since I have to confess to really not paying attention - and I know I wasn't the only one."
There was enthusiastic agreement to this, as well as various shouts for toppings and Kurt's complaint that Burt shouldn't be having pizza, unless it was a special, cheeseless kind that had basically no resemblance to actual pizza. Burt groaned as he saw Carole nodding in agreement, but he accepted it since both she and Kurt were glaring at him, scolding him with their gazes.
They eventually settled in to actually watch the movie. At some point, after the pizza arrived, the seating arrangements changed so that it was Carole and Ida on the loveseat, and Blaine, Kurt, Mercedes and Finn all squashed onto the couch. Burt didn't know whether that happened as a result of some fancy and deliberate maneuvering on Carole and Mercedes' part, since they kept shooting each other significant looks around Blaine and Kurt, or if it was Blaine who had done it. The Dalton boy kept darting glances at Kurt, particularly when Jimmy Stewart was on screen.
Either way, the evening passed by quickly, and there was some muted teasing and conversation throughout the movie - Ida seemed to have used up her word quota for the day, but she smiled a lot more easily and seemed way more comfortable over all.
When Ida received a call from her mother as everyone (except Burt) indulged in some ice cream, letting her know that she was waiting outside for her, Blaine took that as his own signal to depart. He offered Mercedes a ride home so she wouldn't have to call her parents to come get her, and the three teens left within a couple minutes of each other.
It came as a surprise to Burt when Carole and Finn said they were going to head out. A part of him had just taken for granted that they'd be staying . . . but they didn't live there anymore, hadn't for a while, though it was so easy to imagine them all as a family, under the same roof.
"I'll be by as often as you need me," Carole said softly at the door, as she waited for Finn to finish saying his goodbyes to Kurt. "And Finn will be by too. He really feels horrible about all this, like it was all his doing."
"I know - so do I, so does everyone," Burt said tiredly, rubbing at his bleary eyes. "Honestly, I think we all do share a little blame." It was his hundredth time thinking it and it didn't get any less painful with repetition.
Carole nodded. "Please, just . . . take care of him, but don't forget to take care of yourself too, okay?"
Burt raised his eyebrows. "You think Kurt's gonna let anything slide with me? Did you see the way he ninja'd that bowl of ice cream away from me? Those pain meds must be better than I thought."
Carole jabbed a finger into his chest. "Good. Now, you be good until I see you next time."
"And then can I be bad?" he asked with waggling eyebrows.
"Ugh, gross! We can hear you, you know!" Finn called from the living room.
"I feel a gag coming on!" Kurt added.
Both he and Carole rolled their eyes, and Burt gave Finn a goodbye hug and a teasing slap on the back of the head for interrupting his and Carole's moment.
When they were gone, he walked back to the living room, sitting on the couch next to Kurt. Kurt automatically curled into him, and Burt tugged him close with one arm, pulling another blanket over him as he felt a slight shiver overtake his son's frame. Silence reigned for a good, long while, before he asked quietly, "You ready for bed, kiddo? I'll help you down the stairs if you want."
"No . . . no, I think I'll just stay here, on the couch - those stairs seem like more trouble than they're worth," Kurt said just as quietly. His arms tightened around Burt's chest and he got the feeling that Kurt didn't want him to leave.
"I'm just going to watch some sport's highlights, if that's cool with you."
Kurt nodded into his chest. "Might help me sleep."
Burt ruffled his hair, knowing full well how much that annoyed his son. "You do that."
Kurt did not utter a single word of complaint, he simply tugged his two blankets up higher on his shoulders. Burt flicked the TV on, channel surfing until he found what he was looking for, listening to the excited rambling of the sport's newscaster, but not really hearing the words.
He tried to tell himself that things were fine now - that Kurt was safe, and home, and everything would slowly go back to normal. But Kurt was bruised, hurting, and afraid. Burt felt his heart jump whenever he even fleetingly thought about that first phone call, about the initial panic that had really felt like another heart attack, something he would never say out loud. His stomach churned viciously whenever he saw, clearly in his mind's eye, his son, pale and still on that hospital bed, covered in blankets and monitored by beeping machines.
But it would get better. It had to. Kurt was safe, right here, right now. He was in his father's arms, he was in his home, and Burt would never let anything touch him here. He was going to send him to Dalton, which would be a hell of a lot better than McKinley. He was going to protect his son in the ways he had been failing in up until now.
And even as he was stumbling down the hallway at three in the morning, falling to his knees on the floor next to Kurt, soothing away nightmares as he pushed his son's hair off his sweaty forehead, he kept up the endless litany - Kurt's safe now, you're safe now, Kurt, it's okay, please, it's okay. And eventually Kurt's cries ceased, fading into soft whimpers.
He rubbed warmth into his son's trembling limbs, waiting until Kurt was sleeping peacefully again before lifting himself up on creaking legs and falling back into his favourite armchair.
He grabbed a blanket and settled himself as comfortably as he could, keeping wide, watchful eyes on Kurt. Watching him dream. Watching him breathe.
Kurt's safe now. It's over. Please, let it be over.
Burt fell asleep to the image of Kurt curled up on the couch and well within his reach.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Author's Note: I know some of you wanted a little glimpse into the riot - I know this wasn't that, exactly, but I hope you liked it :) Also, in case you're wondering, the musical remake of A Philadelphia Story is a rather fun movie called High Society - I happen to like them both equally (mostly because I was crushing both on Jimmy Stewart and Frank Sinatra at the time I first watched them :D).
Again, you're all too amazing for words - thanks so much for being so!
Next: Chapter 8: No Tomorrow
He ushered her inside, keeping a hand hovering in mid-air in case she needed help. She was a bit awkward with her hurt ankle, but she managed to get in without much stumbling. He shut the door behind her. "You can come on by anytime . . . sorry, I can't remember your name, it's something like Eva, right? I feel real bad for not knowing."
"Ida," she corrected with a tentative smile. "And I only mentioned it once, and you were so worried about Kurt . . . it's fine."
Burt nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You doin' okay, Ida?"
She tilted her head, neither nodding or shaking it. "I, I guess. It's . . . a hard thing to get over. I don't think . . ." She shook her head then, taking a moment to gather herself. "Never mind. How's Kurt?"
He jerked his head towards the living room, where there was laughter and muted conversation still going on. "Why don't you go take a look for yourself?"
Ida's eyes widened fractionally, but Burt saw it. She resumed chewing on her lip and flicked one of her dark red braids over her shoulder. He took one hand out of his pockets, putting it on her elbow. "Hey, you don't need to be scared or nothing. Kurt's so grateful to you. You were one of the first things he asked about when he woke up yesterday."
The girl actually gave him a real, honest smile at that, even if it was tinged with disbelief.
Even so, she kept right on hesitating, fumbling a bit with her crutches. Burt used the hand on her elbow to lightly guide her, slowly but surely. He didn't understand why she was so nervous, but he got that she, like Kurt, had some things to deal with. Witnessing something like that - if the situation had been reversed, and Kurt had been the one to walk in on something that horrible . . . Well, if he could have reversed it, he would have, he wasn't ashamed to admit, but on the whole, he would rather the whole damn thing had never happened, because it was nightmarish either way.
"Your mom drop you off? She could've come in if she wanted to."
"Thank you, but she's barely let me breathe since I got back from the hospital. I wanted to do this myself."
Burt let her pause upon seeing Kurt, sitting happily next to Mercedes, now sharing teasing looks with Blaine as Finn, having returned from his chat with his girlfriend, told them some wild story with huge gestures and silly faces while sitting on the coffee table.
Ida stood there, taking it in with a wistful expression, and Burt had no clue what the hold up was, but he was willing to wait.
She'd been the same when he'd spoken to her at the hospital the night before last: quiet and unassuming. He'd been surprisingly patient then too, all things considered.
"Mr. Hummel!" One of the officers cut him off on the way to see his son. The doctor said they were wrapping up a couple of final tests, and Kurt would be all his. Just another five or ten minutes.
"Yes, Officer Henderson?" He was the same cop that had allowed Burt to have Kurt's phone despite the fact that he suspected it wasn't something the officer was supposed to have done. With that in mind, Burt let the other man waylay him. "You got some news for me?"
"Well, sir, we've taken the witness' statement, and are going to take in a suspect for questioning - we just wanted you to know that we're giving this our all, and the person or persons who did this to your son, they are not going to get away with it."
Burt gave the man a look, not sure why he was going out of his way to be this open and honest with him. "Why are you telling me this?"
Officer Henderson, a tall black man who looked like he could put down even that Puckerman kid, smiled. "Because I'm a father. And if somebody pulled this kind of crap on me - did something like this to my boy? I would iron them out, no question, law be damned. I figure if I don't give my word, let you know what's going on, you're going to try and find out yourself. Maybe get yourself into some trouble. So here's me letting you know what's what."
Burt leaned back on his heels, crossing his arms. He wasn't going to lie and say that his initial response, after blind panic, hadn't been violent - that he hadn't wanted to take whoever did this to Kurt down for a drive to a secluded wooded area and give them a taste of their own pain. And he wasn't going to lie and say that he trusted these men to do their jobs. The words 'hate crime' hadn't come up, and he wasn't expecting them to.
But he acknowledged the fact that these cops seemed to know what they were doing and this guy seemed genuine. Henderson had taken the time to question him briefly, confirming that Kurt was being bullied, and that the name the girl had mentioned was, in fact, one of Kurt's worse tormentors (Burt had made sure to mention Karofsky as the other, and went so far as to say that they should arrest him as well). The issue of his son's orientation was mentioned only in passing. Burt didn't know what to make of it, but the fact that these officers were taking this so seriously, and clearly did a good job at keeping the chaos at McKinley from turning into a blood bath, meant that there might be some justice for Kurt in the end. Officer Henderson seemed particularly invested in making sure of that.
"We'll be stopping by sometime tomorrow, to question that Karofsky boy - he's being released in the morning. If your boy's awake by then, we're going to have to take his statement too." He sounded apologetic about it. Burt nodded, trying to swallow around a suddenly dry mouth. That was something he both wanted - to hear exactly what had happened - and dreaded, because he truly wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle hearing it all from his son's own lips. "Now, the girl wanted to speak with you," Henderson said. "She's in there with her mother right now, and asked if you could come in to see her."
Burt cast a glance to Kurt's room, and seeing no doctor leaving it, or on the approach, he followed Henderson to another room down at the other end of the hall.
When he walked through the door, Henderson gave him a quick nod as he turned away, leaving to arrest the person that had put his son in this hospital.
"You're Burt Hummel, right?" A tall, willowy woman with hair a shade darker than her daughter's stood up and reached out a hand. "I'm Mona Callaghan, and I can't tell you how sorry I am, about your son."
Burt shook her hand. "I'm sorry your daughter had to go through that, but I'm so damn thankful she was there."
Mona turned to her daughter, who was sitting up in the bed, watching Burt and wrapping her arms around herself. "So, do you want me to stay, baby?"
She shook her head. "No, mom, it's okay. I kinda wanted to talk to Mr. Hummel alone."
Her mom nodded as if she expected that and, with a small smile for Burt, she stepped out of the room. Burt stood there, shoving his hands in his pockets, watching this girl. She wasn't small, like Rachel - in fact, she looked like she was maybe only a couple inches shorter than Kurt, who was getting up there in height. It was hard to tell with her half lying down. She had her hair in two messy braids, and her lips were cracked and bleeding in some spots, like she'd been chewing on them constantly.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hummel, sir," she began, her voice raspy. "I wanted to . . . I wanted to talk to you, but I didn't actually think about what I was going to say."
He glanced towards the chair Mona Callaghan had been sitting in, and sat down himself, trying to appear less imposing. "Well, if you ain't too sure where to start, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"
She shook her head.
"What's your name?"
"Ida," she murmured, not quite meeting his eyes.
"Okay, Ida, I . . . I figure this might be a bit awkward for you and all, but . . . could you tell me some of what you told the cops?" Her eyes widened and he hurried on. "You don't have to tell me if it's -"
"It's not . . ." She breathed out, one knee coming up, then wincing when she tried to pull her other leg close to her chest. She rubbed at her calf, just above a seriously swollen ankle.
Burt stared for a minute. "Geez, did that sonuvabitch do that to you?"
"Sort of - he, he was going to hurt me, and when he jumped I think I twisted it, landed on it wrong."
Burt felt his face twist into an expression of disgust. "Fucking coward - sorry - only true jackasses attack women."
Some of the tension left her body at those words. She smiled, fleetingly, but it was there. "That's exactly what Kurt said just before Azimio tried to hurt me."
Burt leaned forward. "I'm going to have to take credit for that. Kurt was a pushy thing when he was little and . . ." He had to pause, his voice giving out as he forced down some tears, but he continued on, watching her relax as he spoke. "And, uh, he used to push his little cousin down whenever she got into his things, which was every single time she was over. I gave him the 'guys don't hit girls, and if they do, they're pathetic' lecture more than once. Then he started being sneakier about it. I think one time he told her that boy cooties were real and that you could get sick and die from them. She never came near him or his stuff after that."
Ida snorted, covering her mouth with one hand. "Sorry, it's just . . . he's always been . . . the way he is, then?"
Burt knew she wasn't talking about the fact that Kurt was gay. "Yeah, he's pretty much always been like he is now - except his vocabulary is loads more impressive and he doesn't pitch fits. He just reasons me to death with lectures and debates, and then he'll do this pouty thing with his lips and his eyes . . . kid usually gets what he wants, when it isn't too out there." Like admission into Dalton, he thought to himself. Kurt hadn't asked for that, and he never would have, considering how expensive the place was, but Burt was sending him there if he had to sell his garage to do it - no way Kurt was setting foot in McKinley ever again.
"That's neat." Ida played with her covers, adjusting her foot and pulling up on the blankets as a random bout of shivers overtook her. She huddled within her cocoon of cotton, and appeared to be lost in thought.
Burt waited until she lifted her head again to look at him before asking, "Do you think you could tell me about what happened?"
She took in a deep breath, exhaled, and then began to speak in a low, whispery tone, "It was mostly a fluke, Mr. Hummel. I heard Azimio taking about his plan, and just . . . sort of figured out where and when, though the 'what, how' was a bit fuzzy. I didn't really think it through when I was walking into that locker room - and I should've run, or called for help or something as soon as I . . . as soon as I saw Kurt, on the floor, all wet and bleeding and hurt." She gasped out the last part, eyes shutting tightly, shuddering.
There was bile pushing at the back of Burt's throat and he had to breathe in and out deliberately, several times. "Oh . . . okay."
"I don't know what happened before I got there, but Kurt was soaking wet, and bruised up all over, and . . ." She paused, her eyes fluttering open and watching him. "Mr. Hummel, are you sure you want to hear this?"
He was making two fists, staring down at them, trying to keep his calm. To keep from following those cops, or tracking down Karofsky who was somewhere in this hospital right now.
"Karofsky, when did he come into this?" he asked calmly.
"He . . . it was after Azimio tried to attack me - Karofsky showed up, pulled him off me. He got Azimio to leave, and then he . . ." She tilted her head, expression confused. "It was weird. He hung around, and just . . . looked at us. Looked at Kurt. I get the feeling there was something there I was missing."
Burt nodded, because he knew what this 'missing' something was. It set his teeth on edge, but it seemed like Karofsky hadn't been out to hurt or . . . touch . . . his boy.
He listened as she explained how the jock had actually given her a phone to call the cops with, to rat out his friend, and Burt didn't really know what to make of that. Maybe Kurt had been right not to out the kid, but at the moment, all Burt could think of was his son, bleeding and shivering on a cold locker room floor, thanks to Karofsky's best buddy. His dull fingernails dug into the palms of his hands and he ground his teeth as he imagined all too clearly the pain and fear on his boy's features. Kurt was a strong kid but (it broke something inside him to admit this, even just in his thoughts) he wasn't sure if this was something that Kurt could just pack away and move on from. In fact, he knew that that couldn't be the case. Kurt was going to be hurting long after the bruises and cuts faded away.
He tuned back into Ida's voice for the end of her story, trying to force the horrifying images and dark thoughts to the back of his mind - he didn't quite succeed, but he managed to focus on the girl again.
"Karofsky asked me to not mention that he'd been there, but there was no way I was letting either him or Azimio get away with that. No way." Her eyes flashed and she sat upright. "I watch them get away with it every day at school, and this time it was too much."
She deflated after that, her cheeks flushed, but she managed to keep eye contact with him, and her voice, which had risen above a whisper into something strong and clear, didn't fade back.
"I think Kurt's so amazing, Mr. Hummel, to survive that. He kept me going, even though I hadn't tried to . . . "
He reached out as she started withdrawing, falling back into herself, and grabbed a small hand in his. She was cold, and he remembered what the doctor had said about hypothermia, and tried to rub some warmth back into her fingers. "You are amazing. You did something that Kurt's teachers and principal refused to do. You stood up for him, and I can't . . ." He knew he was crying, but he couldn't help it this time - not with the image of Kurt, cold, wet, and alone, getting kicked and punched, laying on a damp floor, probably wondering if he was going to live to see another day. Burt wondered if Kurt had cried out for him, crying for his father to come running in to save him.
"I can't thank you enough," he said after clearing his throat twice. "You saved him. And in saving him, you saved me. You're something else. Thank you, so much."
"Hey, Ida!" Finn stood up and walked over to them with a wide, inviting smile.
"F-Finn," she stuttered out. "Hi."
"My mom said you were coming by for dinner, but I totally forgot about it 'til just now." He was grabbing at her crutches, handing them to Burt, and helping her hop over to the couch. Blaine, Mercedes and Kurt had gone quiet, looking over at them. While Blaine didn't seem to know her (though Burt couldn't recall her meeting Finn either) Mercedes gave her a sweet smile.
"Hey Ida, it's nice to see you again." Burt could vaguely remember Mercedes coming into Ida's room after him, but the doctor had been leading him to Kurt's side, and all his senses had pretty much been focused on that.
"Um, hi," she said again. Her eyes were trained on Mercedes, as if she was afraid of the boy sitting next to her.
Kurt was staring, his smile gone. His eyes glazed over and, for a minute, Burt was worried he was going to have a panic attack. Kurt looked like he was forcing himself to keep breathing evenly; Mercedes reached over with one hand, wrapping her fingers around his. "Kurt? Hey, pretty boy, you with us?"
Blaine was leaning in closer, his own hand hovering over Kurt's knee, then being pulled back to his lap. Finn was kept holding Ida up with one arm, looking unsure as to what was happening.
But Kurt came back to them soon enough, blinking once, and then giving Ida a quick up and down sweep. "You hurt your ankle?" He sounded dazed.
Ida nodded, glancing down at her foot and then seemingly forcing herself to make eye contact. "Yeah. Just when . . . when he tackled me."
Kurt nodded. "But it's not too bad, right?"
"No. And you? You . . . you seem okay?"
He huffed a bit at that, squeezing Mercedes' hand. "I . . . suppose that's one way to put it. I'm okay, I'm alive, thanks to you."
Ida shook her head, and Finn finally managed to get her to sit down, Blaine moving over so she could sit near Kurt. "Don't thank me. What else could I do, in that situation?"
"What everybody else was doing, of course," Kurt said with a sarcastic, bitter smile. "Look away, ignore it. Pretend it wasn't happening. Or just not care."
Mercedes winced, looking guiltily down at her lap, and Finn was studying his feet with great concentration. Burt couldn't help but feel stung a little as well - as Kurt's father, he should've done something as soon as he knew how hard a time Kurt was having at school.
Ida shook her head. "I was - I mean, I knew what you were going through. I watched it happen every day, and just because I managed to help you once -"
"When it most counted," Kurt pointed out. "And it's not like I've made any complaints to the staff . . . or stood up for the other kids that were being bullied -"
"Lies," Mercedes interrupted. "You stood up for Tina!"
"And you took a slushie in the face for me!" Finn joined in. "I know that wasn't exactly the same thing, but it mattered, dude!"
Kurt waved off their exclamations. "So, don't be too hard on yourself for that. Now, moving on - have you been at McKinley long?"
"No, just about a month," she said timidly. "But I, I haven't really made any friends. I like my solitude, I suppose, or at least I did, until I . . . heard about you." She blushed here, dropping her gaze. "You sort of . . . I always wanted to talk to you but . . ." Ida shrugged, laughing to herself. "Sorry, I'm such an inarticulate bumble." Her hesitance made sense to Burt now, and he couldn't help liking this girl for it. Mercedes was grinning at her, and Finn was shaking his head, smiling at her shyness.
Kurt arched an eyebrow, tossing his bangs off his forehead. "Well, allow me to formally introduce myself." He raised his hand up. "My name is Kurt Hummel, and you, my lovely lady?"
"Ida, Ida Callaghan." Burt watched as she lifted her own hand, trembling, placing it in his so softly and gently it looked like they were hardly touching.
Kurt gripped her firmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ida, and may I say, nicely done - you know, saving my life and all."
There were tears sparkling in her eyes but she smiled widely. "It was my pleasure, Kurt Hummel - if only so you could live to give me fashion advice and take me for drives in your pimped out ride."
Everyone, including Burt, burst out into laughter, giggles or chuckles.
Carole wandered back into the living room, holding a fresh bowl of popcorn. "Okay, gang, I say we order pizza, and start that movie again from the beginning, since I have to confess to really not paying attention - and I know I wasn't the only one."
There was enthusiastic agreement to this, as well as various shouts for toppings and Kurt's complaint that Burt shouldn't be having pizza, unless it was a special, cheeseless kind that had basically no resemblance to actual pizza. Burt groaned as he saw Carole nodding in agreement, but he accepted it since both she and Kurt were glaring at him, scolding him with their gazes.
They eventually settled in to actually watch the movie. At some point, after the pizza arrived, the seating arrangements changed so that it was Carole and Ida on the loveseat, and Blaine, Kurt, Mercedes and Finn all squashed onto the couch. Burt didn't know whether that happened as a result of some fancy and deliberate maneuvering on Carole and Mercedes' part, since they kept shooting each other significant looks around Blaine and Kurt, or if it was Blaine who had done it. The Dalton boy kept darting glances at Kurt, particularly when Jimmy Stewart was on screen.
Either way, the evening passed by quickly, and there was some muted teasing and conversation throughout the movie - Ida seemed to have used up her word quota for the day, but she smiled a lot more easily and seemed way more comfortable over all.
When Ida received a call from her mother as everyone (except Burt) indulged in some ice cream, letting her know that she was waiting outside for her, Blaine took that as his own signal to depart. He offered Mercedes a ride home so she wouldn't have to call her parents to come get her, and the three teens left within a couple minutes of each other.
It came as a surprise to Burt when Carole and Finn said they were going to head out. A part of him had just taken for granted that they'd be staying . . . but they didn't live there anymore, hadn't for a while, though it was so easy to imagine them all as a family, under the same roof.
"I'll be by as often as you need me," Carole said softly at the door, as she waited for Finn to finish saying his goodbyes to Kurt. "And Finn will be by too. He really feels horrible about all this, like it was all his doing."
"I know - so do I, so does everyone," Burt said tiredly, rubbing at his bleary eyes. "Honestly, I think we all do share a little blame." It was his hundredth time thinking it and it didn't get any less painful with repetition.
Carole nodded. "Please, just . . . take care of him, but don't forget to take care of yourself too, okay?"
Burt raised his eyebrows. "You think Kurt's gonna let anything slide with me? Did you see the way he ninja'd that bowl of ice cream away from me? Those pain meds must be better than I thought."
Carole jabbed a finger into his chest. "Good. Now, you be good until I see you next time."
"And then can I be bad?" he asked with waggling eyebrows.
"Ugh, gross! We can hear you, you know!" Finn called from the living room.
"I feel a gag coming on!" Kurt added.
Both he and Carole rolled their eyes, and Burt gave Finn a goodbye hug and a teasing slap on the back of the head for interrupting his and Carole's moment.
When they were gone, he walked back to the living room, sitting on the couch next to Kurt. Kurt automatically curled into him, and Burt tugged him close with one arm, pulling another blanket over him as he felt a slight shiver overtake his son's frame. Silence reigned for a good, long while, before he asked quietly, "You ready for bed, kiddo? I'll help you down the stairs if you want."
"No . . . no, I think I'll just stay here, on the couch - those stairs seem like more trouble than they're worth," Kurt said just as quietly. His arms tightened around Burt's chest and he got the feeling that Kurt didn't want him to leave.
"I'm just going to watch some sport's highlights, if that's cool with you."
Kurt nodded into his chest. "Might help me sleep."
Burt ruffled his hair, knowing full well how much that annoyed his son. "You do that."
Kurt did not utter a single word of complaint, he simply tugged his two blankets up higher on his shoulders. Burt flicked the TV on, channel surfing until he found what he was looking for, listening to the excited rambling of the sport's newscaster, but not really hearing the words.
He tried to tell himself that things were fine now - that Kurt was safe, and home, and everything would slowly go back to normal. But Kurt was bruised, hurting, and afraid. Burt felt his heart jump whenever he even fleetingly thought about that first phone call, about the initial panic that had really felt like another heart attack, something he would never say out loud. His stomach churned viciously whenever he saw, clearly in his mind's eye, his son, pale and still on that hospital bed, covered in blankets and monitored by beeping machines.
But it would get better. It had to. Kurt was safe, right here, right now. He was in his father's arms, he was in his home, and Burt would never let anything touch him here. He was going to send him to Dalton, which would be a hell of a lot better than McKinley. He was going to protect his son in the ways he had been failing in up until now.
And even as he was stumbling down the hallway at three in the morning, falling to his knees on the floor next to Kurt, soothing away nightmares as he pushed his son's hair off his sweaty forehead, he kept up the endless litany - Kurt's safe now, you're safe now, Kurt, it's okay, please, it's okay. And eventually Kurt's cries ceased, fading into soft whimpers.
He rubbed warmth into his son's trembling limbs, waiting until Kurt was sleeping peacefully again before lifting himself up on creaking legs and falling back into his favourite armchair.
He grabbed a blanket and settled himself as comfortably as he could, keeping wide, watchful eyes on Kurt. Watching him dream. Watching him breathe.
Kurt's safe now. It's over. Please, let it be over.
Burt fell asleep to the image of Kurt curled up on the couch and well within his reach.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Author's Note: I know some of you wanted a little glimpse into the riot - I know this wasn't that, exactly, but I hope you liked it :) Also, in case you're wondering, the musical remake of A Philadelphia Story is a rather fun movie called High Society - I happen to like them both equally (mostly because I was crushing both on Jimmy Stewart and Frank Sinatra at the time I first watched them :D).
Again, you're all too amazing for words - thanks so much for being so!
Next: Chapter 8: No Tomorrow