Chapter published: 05/03/11

Chapter updated: 04/04/11

A/N: Hello, people. :)

This idea just randomly came to me the other day. This takes place some time after Regionals, though I'm not exactly sure where it'll follow canon up to. Also, I've never been to a hospital (apart from when I was born) so my description of the hospital room is kind of derived from my imagination and various movies. Which is probably not all that accurate. So I apologise for that.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

NOTE: this is the second version of this chapter. When I originally posted this, I didn't really like it so I've rewritten it and added in some things.

COURAGE, CHAPTER ONE: HOLD MY HAND

"Excuse me, could I ask you a question? I-I'm new here."

The first time I saw Kurt, he was standing on a winding marble staircase, stopping me as I walked by. He stood out from all the other boys, wearing a back coat in a sea of red-trimmed navy blazers. I looked at him for a moment, extended a hand for him to shake, and said, "My name's Blaine."

He smiled shyly. "Kurt."

[Kurt]

The room has four bleak walls and a white tiled floor. Cupboards, benches and filing cabinets line the perimeter of the room, and in the centre is a hospital bed surrounded by medical equipment.

I walk over to a beige-coloured chair and sit down. This dull, cluttered room's almost familiar to me now, because I've been visiting almost daily for the past two weeks and four days. Leaning over the bed, I gingerly take the patient's cold hand.

"Blaine?" I whisper.

Silence.

His usually gelled curls are hopelessly unruly, and his face wears an expressionless mask. Hooked onto an IV and some kind of machine, he lies there, unmoving, except for the slight rise and fall of his chest. Although he's always seemed so strong to me, right now, Blaine just looks vulnerable.

"I miss you," I say, feeling an unwelcome sting in my eyes. The nurses say he can't hear me, because he's comatose, but I talk anyway. Because what if I never get the chance to talk to him again? He can't hear me, but he's still alive. Lately, I've been reading the notebook he showed me about a month ago, because when I read it I can hear his voice. Reading it's painful but it reminds me that he's still here and that he can still wake up and that everything we did was real.

"When my dad was in hospital, he woke up when I held his hand," I tell him numbly, tears sliding down my cheeks. "I'll hold your hand, Blaine. And I won't ever let go."

"So what's exactly going on?" inquired Kurt, looking around at the swarm of people.

"The Warblers," I answered. "Every now and then they throw an impromptu performance in the senior commons. Tends to shut the school down for a while."

"So, wait, the glee club here is actually kind of cool?"

"The Warblers are like... rockstars."

Kurt raised a sceptical eyebrow.

Taking his hand, I said, "Come on. I know a shortcut."

[Blaine]

The first thing I feel is a warm hand around mine. Soft sheets surround me and the sunlight shines on my face. The smells of antiseptics and detergents assault my nose. There's a faint beeping sound, far away voices and somebody humming softly beside me.

For a while, I just listen to the humming, my brain stuck in a place that's neither here nor there. The humming has a soft, sweet melody to it and, though I don't remember what the song's called, I'm sure I recognise it from somewhere.

When I finally open my eyes, I see a boy. He has immaculate brown hair, pale skin and is wearing a uniform. The humming ceases immediately.

We stare at each other, his beautiful eyes widening. I don't know what to think. It feels like I know him, but I can't remember anything about him.

Racking my brains for answers, my heart begins to race and my breath becomes shallow. I can't remember anything, I realise, fear flooding into my veins. My mind feels hazy and heavy and nothing makes sense.

Where am I? What is this small room? And who is this boy who's holding my hand?

The boy speaks in a quiet voice, a shocked expression on his face. "Blaine?"

Is he talking to me?

He opens his mouth to speak again. "Blaine?" he repeats, voice stronger. And then his face breaks out into the most beautiful smile I've ever seen.

I just continue to stare at him.

Because when he smiles, it makes me feel complete and whole and undamaged. When he smiles, everything bad thing in the world just disappears. It's like we're the only two people in the whole universe and everything is absolutely perfect. When he smiles, I feel warm and safe and happy. It's a smile that says, "Everything is going to be okay." And it's a smile that makes me believe it.

But when I don't respond, his smile falters. "Blaine? What's wrong?" he asks for the third time, licking his lips, his face morphing into an expression that speaks of grief and dread. "Can—can you remember who I am? Kurt Hummel."

The sound of the name triggers something inside of me, and I suddenly remember the first time we met. I remember him standing on the staircase, talking to me. I remember running across the rooms, holding his hand. And I remember singing something to him.

But I also remember something else.

We were crawling, side by side, our hands locked together in a tight grasp. There was smoke everywhere, filling my nose and mouth and lungs, obscuring my vision. There were people everywhere, pushing and screaming and just needing to get out and Kurt was in front of me, crawling, and I remember looking up and seeing a light.

"Kurt?" I whisper. "Who are you?"

[Kurt]

I don't know what to think.

There's this numb feeling spreading from my fingers and toes and this empty feeling in my chest.

Blaine doesn't know me.

Blaine doesn't remember me.

After everything we've done, Blaine doesn't even know who I am.

I look into his eyes. His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion and he looks like he's on the verge of tears. But he's fighting it, trying to stay strong, as always.

It's not his fault, I have to tell myself.

If anything, it's mine.

"What happened?" Blaine asks in a hoarse voice. "Why am I... here?"

It's a while before I can respond. I don't really know what to say and I'm afraid that if I open my mouth, I'll start to cry. What Blaine doesn't need now is someone weak and useless. Which is everything that I am.

Courage, I think.

"Blaine," I begin, taking a deep breath. "There was an... accident."

He nods.

"We were at the Lima Bean when there was a fire." My eyes begin to water, and the rest of the words come out in a rush. "Everyone was pushing, everyone was shoving and everyone was panicking because we all needed to get out but it was crowded and the building was unsteady because of the fire and..." I swallow unsteadily and lick my lips. "And then you realised that we—well, I—was right beneath this light, and it was one of those lights that are covered with one of those translucent bowl things and it was wobbling and then it fell and you pushed me out of the way and it... it fell onto y-you."

For the billionth time, I'm wishing that he didn't sacrifice himself for me. I'm wishing that he didn't notice, that that light-bowl-thing had fallen onto me, that I'm the one lying on the bed, that I'm the one who was in a coma for two weeks and four days, the person who doesn't remember a thing since who knows when, because I can't stand to see him like that. Because, I realise, it was my fault, it was my own stupid fault that it had happened. And Blaine is suffering for it.

The tears are falling freely out of my eyes right now and I bite my lips to keep the sobs at bay. I stand up. Even though I should stay a bit longer, even though I should try to help him some more or just talk to him, I can't. I just can't.

I want to tell Blaine I'm sorry and that it's all my fault and that I'm just so worthless and weak but all I can choke out is a "Bye, Blaine."

The look he gives me tears my heart in two, all over again.

And suddenly, the room is behind me and I'm sprawled out on the floor, the cold tiles pressing into my cheek. Automatically, my hands reach into my pockets to take the picture out. My heart hurts, my head hurts, and even though I should be worrying about Blaine, everything just hurts.

After some time just curled up on the floor, I finally look at the photo in my trembling hands. My eyes are so full of tears, the picture is just a blur of colours, but I've seen it so many times, I know every detail of the photo without even looking at it. When all hope seems lost, when there's nothing I can do, when the world just seems to be slowly crumbling away, I look at the picture, and it usually comforts me. But now, all it does is make me hyperventilate, and the floor spin, all it does is make the narrow hallway's walls seem like they're getting close and closer and like they're going to swallow me up.

It's a picture of Blaine, smiling. Strong, confident, happy. A word is spelt out over the glossy photo.

Courage.

Holding hands, we ran across the Dalton halls towards the commons. When we arrived, it was already crowded.

"Oh, I stick out like a sore thumb," Kurt remarked, gazing nervously at the other boys, who were all wearing the Dalton uniform.

"Well, next time don't forget your jacket, New Kid," I said, fixing up his jacket's collar, even though it was already perfect. "You'll fit right in."

In response to the wink I then gave him, Kurt smiled shyly.

The Warblers began to sing.

"Now, if you'll excuse me."

A/N: On a scale of 'totally awesome' to 'supermegafoxyawesomehot,' how epic is Klaine?

I lovelovelove Klaine. Klaine just gives me this feeling that I can't really explain, but it's full of happiness and hope and a bunch of other gushy adjectives. And Kurt and Blaine deserve each other.

If you're feeling nice, leave me a review? :)

P.S. Does anyone know what those light-bowl-things are actually called?