Not Outta the Woods Yet

"Alright, sonny boy. How's about we have that little chit chat?"

Kurt nodded stoically, though his knuckles whitened with how harshly the bed sheet twisted in his hands. To his dismay, singing and laughing hurt him terribly but he had strength enough for this interview. The social worker had been a kindly old man who delayed Kurt's appointment with the detective, but he couldn't change the extent of Kurt's injuries and the seemingly nonexistent date in which Kurt could go home.

The investigator, Kathy Winters, was a middle-aged lady with frizzy, ashen hair that must have been blond somewhere between the excessive smoking and caffeine. Kurt couldn't smell the pervasive disinfectants when Winters pulled up a wheeled stool.

"I don't remember much," Kurt admitted. "I drove home after a night out with a friend, in my Navigator. It's a 2009 model." Kurt suddenly slumped into pillow, but Winters did not stop taking notes as she prodded, "What's up, son? What are you thinking? A flashback of the trauma?"

"Not really," Kurt stated bitterly. "I recently attended a great but expensive private school out in Westerville. Dalton Academy, I'm sure you've heard of it. Cost a lot. I uninstalled the vehicle tracking feature on the Navigator to cut some expenses."

Winters's cracked lips thinned, and it brought unflattering attention to the dry patch on her chin. "Well, nothing we can do about that." Her pen jabbed her little notepad with surprising determination. "What else you got for me?"

"I saw a flash of white, and I stopped the car. I must have gotten out." As he pondered, Kurt stroked the back of his head where tenderness and swelling had given him headaches. "I remember looking at my engine, but that doesn't feel right to me."

The detective's scrawling finally stopped. "You weren't having any car trouble."

"No. I took care of my baby. You'd have never known she didn't roll off the dealership a year ago."

Winters flicked briefly to a different page in her notepad. "Your dad owns Hummel Lube and Tires."

"Yes. He had me working there for tune-ups, inspections, and so on. Even if I didn't know my way around the hood, I would still say that the engine I looked at couldn't have been my baby's. There were too many patch-ups and a leak I would not have driven on, especially not halfway to Westerville."

"What were you doing at Westerville?"

"I was out with a friend. We had dinner and wandered around the outlet," Kurt said. "I remember saying goodnight and, uh, don't tell my dad but I texted on the road."

"Dalton Academy is a boys' school."

"That's not a question," Kurt pointed out. "You're correct, though."

"You were on a date," Winters said, but she was already writing.

"Yes, we were," Kurt said, a little haughtily.

Winters didn't blink. "I spoke with the medics who brought you in. They stated that they found you bleeding all over the stretcher with the doors busted. Took them a whiles to recover their truck from the repairs to the damage. Can you tell me anything about the people who brought you in?"

"If I could, I would have already," Kurt stated flatly. "I only remember being outside and it was dark enough that I could see the stars. I remember dying."

That sounded less melodramatic in his head, but it was true.

"I didn't get an out-of-body experience. My life didn't flash before my eyes. I was cold and alone, Detective Winters. I always imagined myself going out in a blaze of glory after a string of awards tied neatly to my name."

"We all got dreams, sonny boy. We'll all go. For now, let's focus on reality," Winters said, grimacing thinly. "What else were you feeling?"

Kurt wasn't about to tell her that he saw a bear after noting the indulgent smirk on her face.

"I didn't feel anything. Nothing. I woke up with my arm in a blood pressure cuff that was hurting me. I had to wait a long time for the social worker to get in touch with the police to give the bad news to my dad and to Carole. I remembered thinking that if dad had another heart attack, at least he'd be at the right place. They got there, and I was drugged up to my eyeballs through whatever they did to fix me. And here I am, now. No car. No wallet. No phone."

"You're lucky to be alive," Winters commented. "If your wallet wasn't on you, how did your guardians get called that quickly?"

"Dad," Kurt said, smiling genuinely.

Winters was momentarily struck by his prettiness.

"I wasn't home by 22:30," Kurt said. "My phone probably has a million voice mails from everyone. Dad and Carole got on Finn's case. Finn's my stepbrother. He called everyone who might have had Blaine's number since I wasn't picking up."

"Blaine was your date."

Kurt nodded, and Winters immediately picked up his crestfallen expression and his willingness to keep talking.

"They gave me another half-hour to get my butt home. Technically, Dad gave me ten minutes and then after the twenty minute drive to the station, he went in and reported me as missing."

Pain crossed his face, but he laughed a little anyway. "Good thing I had an excuse."

Kurt was hoping that they would stop there. He was thirsty and the slow burn in his chest had intensified.

"Let's go back to when you were outside. This was after you sustained your injuries. Bruises and lacerations all over your body, namely on your chest and your back. You suffered heavy blood loss. Signs of blunt force trauma to the back of your head which explains your selective memory of the assault."

"You refused an examination of the genitourinary area."

Kurt flushed to his toes. "It wasn't necessary. I didn't. I wasn't raped, okay? I'd know it even if the doctors needed to lobotomize me. It's pretty obvious that I was carjacked and had my money stolen."

"Thank you for your cooperation, Kurt," Winters said, still not done writing. "I can see that I will get no further details from you unless your memory returns in full force."

"Then we're done," Kurt said, clutching his sides in relief, under the blanket.

"Well, no," Winters said. "I understand you want the matter closed as soon as possible, but that won't catch your attackers. I want to find the people who did this to you and bring them to justice. I cannot stress how important you are."

Kurt was slightly taken aback at the unexpected intensity in her tone.

"That being said, I would like Blaine to call me to make a statement about his end of the night since he was the last known person to see you."

"He hasn't done anything," Kurt said. "You make him sound like a suspect."

"That's because he is," Winters said slowly, the only touch of pity or mercy in her straightforward manner. "My attempts to contact him through his school have been wasted. Blaine hasn't been in school since your hospitalization. Has he contacted you?"

"He hasn't but," Kurt was interrupted.

"He's hiding something. It's a pretty big coincidence if you're looking at it from where I am," Winters said. "Unless the people who got you to the hospital come forward, I may have to issue a subpoena for Blaine Warbler."

There was a knock from the other side of the closed door before Kurt could point out how difficult it would be to get someone when you fudged their last name.

"I'll get it," Winters said. She raised one gritty brow.

"You the boyfriend?" Kurt heard her say, and he nearly rolled off the bed in shock.

A woman answered Kurt's door, and she wasn't Carole, a nurse, or any of Kurt's hot friends.

Jacob blanched when she looked him up and down and her lips pinched tightly together in obvious disapproval. She shut the door behind her and planted her feet.

"Um, no. I'm Jacob," he answered. It was obvious to him that he could've picked a better time to apologize to Kurt and explain a few things.

"I'm Detective Kathy Winters," the woman said, offering a bony hand to Jacob, who eyed it the way a wolf would a steel trap. He was surprised that he had all his fingers when she let go.

"What's your relation to Kurt?" Detective Winters inquired. "You're not in high school, are you? Grown man like you?"

Jacob hadn't felt like a sixteen year old in a long time. "No, I'm not. I wanted to talk to Kurt, in private."

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," Winters said, and Jacob didn't believe for a minute that this woman was afraid of anything. He didn't smell fear or anxiety on her so much as anger. It radiated off her deceptively relaxed posture and her anger made him edgy.

"How old are you exactly? In your twenties? You're not a patient. You're not his boyfriend. What business do you have with a beat up little kid?"

These were exactly the sort of questions he'd wanted to avoid. Humans were always drawn to unnecessary risks. He had worked up the courage to come back to the hospital after Kurt had said things that triggered all of his nerves. He had also set aside his ego to see that he wanted Kurt to hear him out since he had done the same for the frail boy.

Jacob knew that he'd be in Pennsylvania in two days if he left now. He might not stop at the Atlantic Ocean.

There was only one way to Kurt, when it mattered, and he had to go through Detective Winters.

"I'm the one who brought Kurt to the hospital. He was really messed up," Jacob said.

"Kurt can confirm that?" Winters inquired. He didn't even see the note pad in her right hand.

"He doesn't know. I introduced myself, but I think he assumed I was a crazy," Jacob said, and Detective Winters took in his unusual outfit for the fall. She hadn't bothered taking her coat off and he was in a short sleeve.

"Where did you find him?"

"Train tracks. There's a part that touches on the borders of the woods," Jacob said.

"When did you find him?"

"I don't know. Wasn't exactly thinking of the exact time since I wanted to get him to the hospital." Jacob rubbed at his neck, thinking about how fair it was that he was getting the third degree for someone else's crime.

"Why didn't you call 911 and leave it? I imagine there was blood everywhere," Winters stated shrewdly.

"I wasn't in my right mind," Jacob said.

"Between the hours of 10:30 PM and 3:18 AM, the time indicated on Kurt Hummel's admission to the hospital, you were at a relatively isolated area of Lima and you were not in your right mind. What were you doing that places you at the scene? Hiking?"

"I wasn't on drugs or anything," Jacob said. "I was going to follow the tracks into the town, and then I was pretty much on top of him. Someone tied him down to the rungs. He wasn't wearing a coat. I didn't see a car nearby."

"You drove him to the hospital?" Winters inquired shrewdly.

"I got him there, yeah," Jacob said, and if Winters caught the careful wording, she didn't show it.

"Please understand that I'm on your side," Winters stated dispassionately. "Is there a number that I can reach you? An address?"

"I'm sort of a drifter. I don't have any of those," Jacob said.

"How exactly do you get around?"

"Do you really need to know that for Kurt?" Jacob asked, stalling for time. To his relief, she relented.

"No. It's an extraneous detail," Winters admitted. "Would have simplified the paper work."

"You do have an e-mail address, at least?" Winters finally burst, and he could see her frustration and feel a measure of sympathy for the woman. She was doing her job.

"Yes." To Jacob's credit, he kept a straight face when she repeated his email address.

"S-P-E-E-D-R-A-C-E-R-R-R-6-9-X-X-X?" Winters maintained with no change in expression.

Jacob was so, so glad that distance affected the mental telepathy that connected him to his pack, especially Leah. She'd laugh herself sick.

"I will want a formal statement from you. Try to stick around Lima. Hell, I'll get a pal of mine to put you up for a couple days."

"That won't be needed," Jacob said, although he was tempted, if only to take a real shower instead of quick clean ups wherever he could snatch them.

"One last thing," Winters said, with her hand on the knob. "Your real name, if you would."

His gut warned him against lying to her. While he did not have a criminal record, a simple background check would lead her to La Push easily. "Jacob Black. I'd appreciate it if you would keep my family out of this, Detective."

"If you've done nothing wrong, I couldn't touch you Mr. Black. Thank you for coming forward. Allow me."

With that, Winters jerked the door open a crack and clearly stated," Turns out I don't need your boyfriend, sonny boy. The guy who saved your neck is here to see you."

She smirked at him and whistled as she turned on her heel and practically marched to a door that must have led to a stair well since a couple nurses were wheeling beds out of the elevator.

Jacob knocked though the door wasn't shut all the way. His focus had been thoroughly demolished, and that almost killed his resolve. He was no coward, though.

"Hey," he said, and he wasn't surprised at the distinct lack of gratitude on Kurt's face.

"You! You're the one who rescued me?" Kurt gaped.

"Not the knight in shining armor you pictured, right?" Jacob quipped, oddly put at ease by Kurt's disappointment. He had pegged Kurt as one of those Type A's who were never happy with anything, not unlike Sam Uley.

"Sorry, can't hear you over your hobo chic attire," Kurt apologized, but he muttered the last part that did not escape Jacob's sensitive hearing.

"Why are you here now exactly?" Kurt asked. "You saw me alive and breathing, and then you insulted me in the worst way. I don't want to forgive you, not for that."

"I get it," Jacob said, after he looked away from that defiant face. "I don't want your thanks or anything. Just, what you said earlier, shook me out of a funk. I didn't care that I was bitter, or I fooled myself into thinking it. But everything you said hurt. A lot. You schooled me, white boy."

"Oh my God. It really was you," Kurt said, and he was looking over Jacob's shoulder as though seeing something from the distance. His voice got small and he seemed to shrink into himself. "Tell me, when you found me, was there anything else around?"

Jacob's ears perked. "You mean, the thing that attacked you?"

"Maybe," Kurt answered, and he reeked of fear. "I never saw anything like it. I must have been going crazy. I don't think you'd believe me if I told you."

Before Jacob could ask Kurt to describe the source of his fear, Kurt swallowed and changed the topic abruptly. "Is your name really Jacob? I'm not trying to offend you this time, but I keep thinking of this bottom feeder at my school. I don't want to call you Black because it could be construed as racist."

"You could call me Jake," the wolf blurted. He didn't know how to bring up the word "vampire" without freaking the kid out and at the same time, he was haunted by a selfless, reckless girl who had always thrilled him with his name on her full lips.

Then his brain caught up with him. "You were listening at the door."

Kurt's ears reddened. "I thought she was going to do something to Blaine."

"Your boyfriend."

"Yes," Kurt said, but it was without his usual pride or amazement that he loved someone. "Well, he's supposed to be. We're dating, anyways. What does it mean when someone doesn't come see you when you're in a stupid hospital and they know that the stupidest day of your life happened in a hospital?"

The tip of Kurt's nose was very red, which enhanced the strangely vivid color of his eyes, which were looking watery no matter how calm Kurt sounded when in his own roundabout way, he wanted to know why Blaine didn't love him.

Jake hated his superior wolf senses at times, but right now especially. He couldn't smell any tears off of Kurt, thankfully because white boy was holding it all in. But there was a quality to the air in Kurt's lonely little room that made his throat ache and he wanted to howl at things. He didn't expect this from a kid who had a lot of friends.

"I wouldn't know that," Jake admitted, and somehow that admission made him relax, helped him remember a little bit of his apology to Kurt. "There's a good chance that he's so into you that he can't see how deep his head is up his ass. You should eat more and get your strength up, cuz it'll wear at you. Waiting for them while they go in circles figuring it out."

Kurt carefully picked at a cuticle, and Jake's eyes were riveted on hospital windows that were drilled closed. The sun was already going down, but in its gentle light, they were seeing each other very differently.

"Helllooooooo," Carole chirped. She had a shopping bag in hand, and in short order had a warm meal set up for Kurt. "I know you don't like this much meat, sweetie, but the PA recommended a heavier serving or else your muscles—" She paused when she noticed Jake eyeing the food.

"Who's your friend?" she asked. Kurt almost groaned at how the yellow Crocs didn't even blip on her radar. He was going to have to work on that as soon as his chest wasn't taped up.

"Carole, that's Jake. Jake, meet Carole." Kurt paused, and decided that he'd like to see Carole's reaction after a boring day of daytime television. "Jake was the one who got me to the hospital."

She didn't disappoint, and pulled Jake into a tight, matronly squeeze. Kurt enjoyed how Jake's face, which looked like it was carved to be serious all the time, took on a bug-eyed sort of panic. She was hugging Jake as hard as she couldn't hug Kurt because of his chest injuries.

"My husband will be grateful to you. You can count on a lifetime of discount tune-ups," Carole commented when she let go. "Don't even think of refusing. We will take you to dinner, anywhere you'd like to go."

"I'm actually good, ma'am," Jake said. His mouth quirked oddly. "I'm used to eating out, on-the-go."

"That's perfect!" Carole insisted. "It's a lot cheaper to invite you to dinner at our house. I'm not the world's best cook, but I think a big guy like you wouldn't turn down home-cooking."

Jake realized that she was talking about her other son Finn.

"Say you'll let us repay you with dinner." Carole had her arm around Kurt's shoulder. They both smiled at him, although Kurt's wasn't nearly as nice as Mrs. Hummel's.

"Wait, Carole. You don't mean tonight," Kurt said incredulously. "You brought me dinner."

"The doctor wanted to keep you for another day to make sure you were healing without any infections. You'll be back home in time for lunch. Your dad will pick you up."

"Thank Gucci," Kurt said.

Jake had an image of Kurt dramatically throwing his arm over his eyes and flopping onto his pillow.

"Say you'll come to dinner," Carole insisted, with Kurt out of the way. "You don't have anywhere to be tomorrow evening, right? We usually eat at 7 PM. Do you need a ride?"

Jake could have lied his ass off, but he didn't. Later on, he would try to rationalize that Kurt's house might have clues related to his attack. Vampires were sneaky, so you never knew. The food was simply an awesome bonus.

A/N: OMG. Twilight x Muppets. Oh wait, you mean Labyrinth. I don't own Twilight x glee. I figured out why you guys like this: No Bella. She can stay in Forks and birth the anti-Christ.

Thank you for reading! I'll be going on vacation. I will try so hard not to forget NOTWY.