"Kurt! Hey, Kurt! Wait up."

Kurt Hummel turned around with a small huff as the last bell of the day rang, daintily straightening his coat with one arm while balancing his book bag with the other. Finn was running towards him in the hall, two cups in his grip, backpack slung messily over his shoulder. Kurt frowned.

"Finn, how many times have I told you? That 'manly' backpack thing of yours is much too bulky, inconvenient, and not to mention horrendously unfashionable."

Finn rolled his eyes, but smiled. "Yeah, whatever, Kurt. Anyway, you know the new guy?"

"Peter?" Kurt raised an eyebrow, smile playing at the edges of his lips. "Yes."

Finn held up one of the cups in his hand, shrugging slightly. "He gave me these, and said this one was for you. Huckleberry, I think?"

Kurt's other eyebrow joined the raised one now, and he reached almost warily for the Styrofoam object displaying bright words that confirmed it as a slushy, confusion mixed with just the slightest bit of delight on his sharp face.

"Alright." He sipped it, frowning once again. "That's odd."

"What?" Finn asked, already heading towards the Glee room.

Kurt shrugged, taking another sip. "Doesn't taste like huckleberries." He paused to fix his scarf, which had fallen off one shoulder. "Oh, well. Probably contaminated with all their ridiculous fake flavors and preservatives." He curled his lip in disgust, and lowered the slushy, and Finn laughed.

"Well, you don't have to drink it. He just told me to give it to you."

Kurt put on a façade of indifference, but Finn could tell he was pleased. He sneaked two more drinks before tossing the drink away.

"You know, I almost find that offensive."

"That he gave you a drink?"

Kurt shook his head. "No, that he gave me a slushie. It's… ironic."

Finn nodded. "Good point. Oh, well. Doesn't matter anyway. Come on, we're gonna be late."

As if to emphasize Finns' point, the last bus roared away right after the words had left his mouth. He sighed, but said nothing, simply hitching his oh-so-manly backpack farther up his shoulder and walking hurriedly to the room where the rest of his friends were gathered. Their assignment this week had been to find a barbershop song, so they'd been assigned to groups of four.

Kurt was in a group with Finn, Artie, and Mike. They'd chosen a rendition of 'Tonight', and Kurt was, of course, the tenor part. They started off beautifully, but everything went downhill from there.

Kurt had always had fantastic breath control. He was the one who could hold a note-a high one-longer than anyone else. And yet, today he found that control slipping. It was becoming harder to draw breaths and keep them there. In fact, it was becoming harder to draw breath in general. He fell flat multiple times, entirely dropping out at one point. There was a smattering of applause after they finished, but the confusion in the room was obvious. Sure he was blushing furiously, Kurt refused to look any of the other guys in the eyes. But apparently that meant nothing. Kurt felt a hand on his arm and glanced quickly over to see Artie staring at him, brow furrowed.

"Are you alright, man?"

Kurt pulled out of the grip, trudging away. "I'm fine." He really didn't want to be rude, but wasn't the humiliation enough? He didn't need pity, too.

His indignant march away was impeded, though, by a sudden wave of dizziness. He stumbled hard, almost crashing into the drum set. Kurt frowned, trying to pull in a deep breath, and when that attempt failed, his eyes grew wide, turning back towards the rest of the students, not caring about his dignity anymore. He couldn't breathe!

"Kurt?" It was Mr. Schuh now, hurrying over to the teen with a concerned look on his face. "What's wrong?"

Kurt couldn't answer, he was too busy trying to fight for air. When a hot spike of pain ran through his abdomen, Kurt went down hard, the yell that escaped him stealing the precious bit of air he had left.

The entire Glee club was around him now, babbling worriedly, reaching out, trying to talk to him. He saw Finn on the phone, looking terrified. Kurt curled in a fetal position, tears streaking down his face, lungs feeling like they were the size of peanuts. Another wave of vertigo hit him, even though he was lying down, coupled with stomach cramps that made Kurt feel as though he'd swallowed razors, and it was too much.

Kurt tried to keep from sobbing as he succumbed to the blackness.

O o o O

To be honest, Artie was a little hurt when Kurt pulled away so roughly, but thought it was understandable, considering what had just happened. What did happen, anyway? Kurt's notes were usually so strong, so purposeful. He'd gone completely wrong with this song-something was seriously off. And when Artie saw Kurt trip over nothing, his concern flew off the charts. Kurt didn't just fall. He was about to either say something or go help him, but Mr. Schuster beat him to it.

"Kurt? What's wrong?"

There was no answer, and Artie started to wheel over to the teen just as a look of sheer terror crossed his face. Artie swore when Kurt went down with a yell, obviously pained, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Call 911!" He wheeled over to the writhing body. He'd give anything to be able to kneel down right now.

Kurt was openly crying now, and Artie didn't think he'd ever been this terrified. Across from him, Mercedes knelt, trying to grasp Kurt's hand, but he pulled it away, wrapping both arms tightly across his stomach. Rachel was crying, Quinn looked shocked, Puck was pacing by Finn, who was speaking frantically into his cell, eyes glued on his 'practically brother', more vulnerable and scared-looking than Artie or any of them had ever seen him.

Then Kurt went limp. Before, horrible as the writhing was, he'd at least been moving. Now-he was completely still, not even twitching.

"Kurt, baby? Kurt?" Mercedes was begging, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Come on, wake up."

"Hurry up!" Finn was yelling now, voice breaking on the last word. He swore violently, smacking the phone shut.

He headed over to Kurt, running a hand through his hair. "What happened? He was just fine… jeez… What happened?" He kept repeating that phrase, disbelief coloring his words.

Puck suddenly strode out of the room, quick steps echoing down the hall as he left the room. Artie stared. How could he just-then he heard sirens, and understood. His assumptions were proven correct when Puck re-entered, running, with two paramedics trailing him.

The tension had just started to lessen, not nearly relaxed, but at least comforted, when Kurt started to convulse. The EMT's shoved the classmates, frantic with worry, away, and set to work. Rachel suddenly appeared next to Finn, hugging his torso and burying her face in his chest while she dissolved into sobs. The receiver of the embrace stood stunned, locked in a stage of shock. This was surreal; impossible. It couldn't be happening.

The middle of their sacred room; the room all of them had felt truly safe in; the one room in the school where they'd go for sanctuary-it was soiled, burned with the image of one of their treasures fighting for life there. None of them knew how it had happened.

The club stood around the nightmarish scene, most crying, some pacing, all staring. And as the paramedics finally loaded their friend onto a gurney, there was a moment of silence in the room before a mad rush out the door to their cars; pooling as necessary.

Finn pushed Artie, for the sake of time, and loaded him into his own car. Both teens were silent throughout, oblivious to the tears or horror on their faces. Finn shoved the gas pedal down harder than he ever had before, quite possibly breaking all traffic laws in the short drive to the local hospital. They arrived there before anyone else. Artie was quickly loaded back into his chair, still silent, and they headed into the large white building, Finn's hands rattling Artie's whole chair, they were trembling so badly.

"Uh, H-Hummel. Kurt Hummel." Finn stuttered out to the for once nice-looking receptionist.

She glanced up at him even as she quickly tapped the name into her keyboard, raising a trimmed eyebrow at him.

"You family?" The inquiry was casual.

"Uh, yeah. His brother." Really, its only a half-lie.

She nodded, and cast a glance down at Artie, but said nothing. Finally, she blinked at the computer screen, brows drawn suddenly is what looked to Finn like a sympathetic, worried gesture.

"Oh, dear…" That was muttered. She looked up at Finn. "Yes, he was just brought into the ER a few minutes ago by ambulance… they don't know much y- oh, wait. Hold on, one moment." She clicked a few more things, then nodded. Finn saw how she tried hard to cover her shocked expression. "They're admitting him. They had to… pump his stomach. It seems as though he's been poisoned."

O o o O

Finn stood, frozen, for a moment, Artie the same in his chair beneath him. Poisoned? By who? How? He couldn't seem to move, not even when he heard Mr. Shcuh, Mercedes, and Tina burst in the doors behind him.

"Finn? Artie?" That was Schuster, and Finn soon felt a strong hand on his arm. "What's happened, you guys? Is Kurt alright?"

"I-no, he-well, yes, but…" His attention suddenly snapped back to the receptionist. "What room?"

She glanced at the screen. "They've just transferred him to 63."

Without a word, Finn was off, pushing Artie in front of him, who'd finally regained control of his mouth.

"Finn… poison?"

Finn pressed his lips together. "That's what she said. I just… don't understand. How could someone do that?"

Artie shook his head, finding no answer. They arrived at Room 63 but stopped there, Finn's hand hovering over the doorknob. He seemed to be stuck in a funk, eyes suddenly wary. Artie gave him an encouraging nod, and the haze was gone. They came into the room, and suddenly the rest of the Glee club was behind them-Finn hadn't even noticed the others arrive. But there they were. While the majority of the group huddled by the door, Finn walked slowly forward, face paling at the sight of Kurt, lying ashen and curled in the bed. Finn walked around it, stopping when he was facing Kurt, and thus, the rest of the Glee club.

"Hey, bro," he muttered, laying a hand on Kurt's trembling shoulder. His brow furrowed. "How you doing?"

It took Kurt a moment to register, but his eyebrow shot up when it did. "Bro? Don't tell me he proposed when I was out."

Finn chuckled. "Naw, sorry."

"Oh, good. Thank God." Kurt turned his face up towards Finn, who tried not to react at the pinched gaze there.

"So, have they got you on the good stuff?"

"Finn, I just had my stomach pumped because I was poisoned. They don't have me on drugs because it 'might interact with some leftover particles and make things worse'."

Finn's vision flashed to red for a moment, but he quickly pushed the rage down. "You mean they didn't give you anything?"

"No." Kurt paused. "Let it go, Finn. Its for the best."

"Yeah." The bigger teen sighed, dropping into a chair at the side of the bed. "I just…" He bit his lip. "I can't help but think this is my fault."

"Excuse me?"

"Think about it, Kurt. What have you eaten today?"

A distinct eyebrow raise. "Breakfast, lunch…"

"And that slushie I gave you. It's the only thing that someone could have messed with easily, plus you drank it right before…"

Kurt frowned. "Then it was Peter's fault, not yours, idiot."

Finn ran a hand through his hair, ever in awe of Kurt's ability to forgive. The rest of the Glee club had begun easily drifting into the room, Mercedes in front, and she darted forward when Kurt winced and gave a little gasp through chapped lips.

"What's wrong?"

He smiled tiredly. "Nothing. They said there would be residual effects for a little while. Its normal. I'm fine, guys."

"No you aren't." Rachel stepped forward now, a crease between her eyebrows that looked out of place. "You were poisoned, Kurt. I don't care what you say, that's not okay."

Kurt sighed, and she walked up to him, grasping his bedrail.

"You're in Glee now, Kurt. We're a family. And families care about each other, alright?"

A nod came from the blonde in the bed, even while he squeezed his eyes tightly shut to keep the tears threatening to escape from his eyes. After a moment, the group disbanded, some heading off for snacks, some drinks, some to contact people. In the end, only Artie and Finn were left, both sitting by Kurt's bed. That's when Burt came in.

The man looked incredibly frazzled, face red and pinched, clothes disheveled, grease on his hands.

"Kurt?"

The teen's eyes grew wide. "Dad?"

Burt came farther into the room, walking straight to his sons bedside. His eyes were wide as he took in the pale, messy form.

"Jeez…. What happened, Kurt? They said… said that you were poisoned?"

Kurt bit the inside of his cheek and looked away, nodding ever-so-slightly. Burt clenched his fist, jaw locked.

"This wasn't about…"

"It doesn't matter, Dad." He was interrupted before he could go any further. "I'm fine now."

"But it does, Kurt. What if they try again? What if-" Burt broke off at a choked sound from the bed. He looked down to see Kurt staring at the ceiling, fresh tears making glistening tracks down his temples.

"Dad, please…"

Burt fell silent, grasping his son's hand in his. "I'm sorry. I just… I worry. And with something like this…"

"I know, Dad." Kurt cocked his head, expression turning questioning, then concerned. "You didn't tell Carol about this, did you?"

At the mention of his mom's name, Finn looked up, brow furrowing, awaiting the answer as well. He wasn't sure how he felt about telling her. It certainly wouldn't do her good. She'd fallen in love with Kurt, and this news would devastate her. Finn found himself hoping Burt said no. He sat back, relieved, as the answer came from the older man's lips.

"Well, not yet, but I don't see how we can just leave her out of-"

Kurt interrupted yet again. "Thank God. Please don't tell her. She'll die."

Burt started to protest, but now Finn spoke up. "No. I hate to say it, but Kurt might be right… I don't like hiding things from her anymore than you do, but she's already been through so much lately. How about this," he added at the still-uncertain look on Burt's face, "if she asks, we tell. But otherwise… I realize its deceitful, but if we can keep her from harm, why not?" Good Lord, Finn couldn't believe what he was saying. But, in some convoluted way, it did make sense.

Finally, Burt nodded, still looking unhappy. "Alright." He came around and sat next to Finn, sighing. "It must be a requirement to make these chairs as absolutely uncomfortable as possible."

All the men in the room chuckled at that. There was a moment of silence, before, without warning, Artie whipped out his iPod from his pants pocket, and a dock from the side of his wheelchair. He grinned.

"So, I got this a couple days ago, and have been dying to show it off. Check out this sound, guys."

With that, he plugged in the iPod and spun up the volume. Kurt absolutely beamed as the sounds of Phantom of the Opera came bursting out of the small speakers in perfect clarity. Soon, the rest of the Glee members had gathered again, brushing off the disapproving looks by the hospital employees, passing out snacks (that Mercedes had of course had approved by Kurt's doctor as 'okay to eat'), and singing along.

Despite the situation, and the residual pains from the horror that had befallen him, Kurt found that in this moment, surrounded by his fellow singers, he was happy for the first time in a while. And yes, he realized, these people had become more than just simple schoolmates. As he watched Finn belt out the female part to 'Think of Me' in a ridiculous falsetto, and Puck laugh at him, and Artie pretend to play piano, and Mike dance in the corner, a feeling bloomed through him that had been missing ever since his mom had left him. And while that hole could never be truly filled, it could certainly be covered up. These, Kurt grinned, were his friends; his beautiful, ridiculous, lovely friends. And more than that: they'd become his family.

And he'd never felt safer.

O o o O

A week later, long after Kurt had gone and the club recovered, a certain boy by the name of Peter showed up in the ER, sporting a busted and swollen lip, two black eyes, a sprained ankle, multiple lacerations and bruises, and at least one cracked rib. He claimed he'd crashed his bike.