suchmiracles | IC; Deerington Inbox

"It's not easy," Kurt replies. As much as he wants Fern to feel encouraged, it's not something he wants to lie about. He's had enough experience with friendships formed in the most difficult of circumstances, and with some very difficult people, to know that it's best to be aware of the risks. A certain Canadian comes to mind, drawing a small smile to his face as he looks at Fern.

"I'm proud of you, Fern," he offers gently. "Sometimes the battles we don't fight with swords are the hardest ones. I hope Varian appreciates it," he adds, a small amount of protective frustration sneaking into his tone.

"Thanks," he mumbles. He means it, sincerely. All of this probably sounds stupid and inane to a regular person (a regular person could probably solve all of this in about five minutes), but it's important to him. Hearing that Kurt is proud of him makes him feel like he's actually doing the right thing for once, like maybe if he keeps going in that direction he won't be a total failure like most of the time.

"This kind of stuff was always easier when I was Finn," he adds, a little morosely. It's really, really unfair that he just can't go back to being Finn when there isn't even a Finn here.

Though Kurt is pleased to hear Fern accept the praise, he's far from convinced that he's helped lighten his friend's burden, or even cheered him up in any way. Part of that he knows could be put down to the post-death flu, but not all of it. He watches Fern thoughtfully.

"Mm. What would Finn have done in this situation?"

Fern sighs heavily (or at least, makes a noise akin to that), and leans back against the wall, looking upwards at the ceiling.

"He wouldn't have gotten in this situation to begin with. He wouldn't have even died," he replies flatly. "He's handled a lot worse than a stupid book. That thing would've been nothing to him. He would've taken care of it, made sure Varian didn't get hurt, wouldn't have fought with him. He'd probably be hanging out with him right now."

"That does sound like he would have had it easy." Kurt lets his gaze wander back around the treehouse, keeping a tiny thread of attention on the antics of the fire wolf puppy. His tail winds back into his hands; he rubs an idle circle over the spade with his thumb.

"Sometimes I think.. what it would be like to have had an easier life. To have been born looking like everyone else, in a happy family. Would it have made me a better person? Or am I who I am because of what God chose for me? 'What ifs' are difficult questions to answer, even when you're not unwell."

Hazel barks a little, flopping over in front of Kurt to get more scratches. Fern glances down at him, then away. "It's hard, since I know what my life would've been like. I saw it every day back home with Finn. I had to do the same thing when I was Finn Sword, but it didn't feel as bad back then. Now it just drives me crazy, and Ruby reminds me of him, and it's just -"

He drags his hands down his face, making a frustrated noise. "How you keep yourself from thinking that kind of stuff?"

"I think.. keeping yourself from thinking about it only makes it worse," Kurt replies slowly, reaching over to bury his fingertips in Hazel's warm belly fur.

"I've seen possibilities about my own life. Versions of myself from other universes, where I've made different choices, or lived with different circumstances." Hazel wriggles out from under his hand; Kurt flips his tail over, letting him chase the pointed tip back and forth. "Some of them are good -- my daughter, who I told you about, she's from one of those universes, her father was a version of me who.. was more fortunate, in some ways. Her parents were together for a long time, happily married. It was hard, for a little while, to not feel resentful of that. To not wish for that for myself, especially when I got to know T.J. and realised I could.. never be her father, not really."

He glances over at Fern. "But I had to let myself experience that. For a time I thought it was best to repress these thoughts and emotions, to try to live without letting that guilt and shame in. But all it did was drive me towards something that ended up hurting me. So now.." He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "I have to accept it."

This is a lot to take in. Kurt is opening up to him about really, really personal things. His heart sinks in sympathy upon hearing more about his daughter, the idea of family that should be his but being just out of his reach resonating deeply with him. Where he hesitates is the acceptance.

Fern tries to draw in a deep breath, and when he can't, curls his arms around himself. "I don't think I can do that," he says slowly. Kurt opened up to him, he deserves the same in return. "Back home I couldn't. I... tried taking over Finn's life. I trapped him in this dungeon, and I - ...." He falters, unsure of how to keep on explaining things. Maybe he doesn't need to? Maybe showing him is easier.

Fern raises one hand. His grass twitches, before it shifts, the green colour fading into a perfect mimic of a human's skin tone. In fact, his whole hand adjusts itself just enough so it doesn't look as if it's made of grass, it looks like a legitimate human hand. It only lasts a couple of seconds, before his grass ripples and returns to its usual appearance.

He drops his hand, looking away, his voice getting shaky. He can't believe he's saying this, Kurt is going to be so disappointed in him. "But he got out. When I realized it wasn't going to work, I tried to kill him."

It's not the kind of conversation that Kurt would have preferred take place when Fern is already feeling emotionally and physically weakened, but he doesn't want to stop his young friend from unburdening himself of something that's clearly been sitting with him for a long time. He stays silent, absorbing the sight of Fern's shapeshifting with little visible surprise, able to easily put together the unspoken implications of what Fern did.

The fact that he's heard far worse confessions is, he knows, not necessarily a good thing. The scale for these things is subjective; this is clearly something that Fern regrets deeply, even if Kurt himself isn't especially phased by it. Not when he's come so close to committing similar acts, and has forgiven far worse in others.

Wordlessly, Kurt reaches out to put an arm around Fern's shoulders, a familiar physical reminder of his support.

"Fern," he begins gently, "you've been through a lot. Not just recently. But in your life, you've had to deal with so many things, hard things, and you haven't had anyone to guide you. But you clearly regret what you did, ja? And that regret shows that you are a good person, even if it doesn't always feel like it. I see that good person in you, Fern." He gently rubs the grass shoulder under his palm. "I believe in him."

Fern, fully expecting anger and disappointment for what he did and tried to do. That Finn isn't here doesn't matter, he did something horrible and he's been hiding it ever since he arrived in town over a year ago. Any reasonable person would hear this and understand how much of a monster he really is.

So when Kurt's arm settles around his shoulders he's in quiet shock. This is the opposite of anger, and what he says is nothing but supportive and compassionate and -

Oh.

But you clearly regret what you did.

Those words hit Fern like a freight train, and his heart sinks. He doesn't regret what he did, he regrets that he failed at it. If Finn arrived here he'd try it again, there's no doubt in his mind about that. There's... there's no way he can tell Kurt that. He can't say that he's mistaken, not unless he wants to lose him, and the thought is terrifying him into lying.

"Y... yeah," he mumbles, leaning a little more against Kurt, cementing in his mind that he's the furthest thing from a good person. "Thanks."

There's no way for Kurt to understand what's going on in Fern's head; all he feels is his friend shift his weight against him, quietly accepting his words. If they're a little hesitant, he puts that down to tiredness, and the fact that Fern has always been somewhat reluctant to accept his optimism.

"Sehr gut," he replies gently, giving him a small squeeze. "Now, I think you should be in bed. And you should see the books I got for you, I think you'll like them."

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