Alright, so before you start reading, I got some important things to say.

First, this fic IS BASED OFF THE THE WALKING DEAD. Do not break my door down telling me that I copied it, I am fully aware that it's extremely similar. Full credit goes to whoever wrote the show, I played with their ideas big time. I did change some things around, but in a nutshell, the plot is from The Walking Dead. If you haven't seen the first couple of episodes and plan to, I warn you, this contains spoilers. If you don't plan on watching it, or if you already have; enjoy, and I hope you like it.

Note: The italics are memories. They already happened, so I hope there's no confusion on that.

~*~xo~*~

Two hazel eyes slowly flutter open.

A loud, thundering noise. Blaine feels his back hit the floor, hard.

It's so bright… too bright…

"Blaine!"

'Am I dreaming?' Blaine wonders. 'Where am I?' His most recent memory is so blurry…. Maybe it was just a dream..? All he has are bits and pieces of it, anyways.

He feels a warm hand on his chest. "Fuck, someone call an ambulance, now! You hear me? Right now! Do it!"

So many voices in his head… They're all screaming. They sound panicked. The most panicked seems to sound like his best friend, Wes… who is also his partner in the police department. Police department? Maybe that has something to do with it... If he's hearing Wes' voice, he could have been on call for something. He was the Sheriff's Deputy, after all.

"Help! He's been shot!"

Shot? Who's been shot? Is it… Oh. So THAT'S the last thing Blaine remembers. Himself being shot. But that doesn't answer the question of where he is. Or maybe, it does? Blaine squints his eyes, trying to put together what he is seeing with his brain.

A ceiling. That's all he sees. He must be lying down. But, where?

… A hospital. That must be where he is. He has to be in a hospital, right? But why is it so quiet? Blaine's woken up in a hospital before, but the last time he did, he had company. He had his husband, Kurt, by his side. But, where was Kurt now? Maybe he was at home, where he was forced to be by the doctor because he was waiting up all night for Blaine to wake up. He must have worn himself out from waiting for Blaine. Yeah, that sounds like Kurt.

Still, he wonders why it's so quiet. He should at least hear the soft murmur of the machines he was hooked up to. Were they off? And why…why were the lights above him off, as well?

Blaine, slowly and weakly, sits himself up on the bed. He peers around the deserted room. Nothing seems touched… There aren't any signs of life. It's…for lack of better word, it's just creepy. He turns his head to his right, getting a good look at his bedside table. There's a bouquet of flowers… incredibly dead flowers. They look like they could have once been roses. Red and yellow roses. Blaine's breath catches in his throat. Kurt.

He reaches over to the bouquet, gently stroking one of the flowers. To his dismay, the bud breaks off from its stem, plummeting to the surface of the table, which is already covered in many dead petals that must have fallen. How long have these flowers been here? Better yet, how long has Blaine been here? From the look of these roses, it could have been weeks; or even months…years? No, couldn't be years. Could it?

Blaine sighs, at once noticing a small piece of paper, neatly folded and propped up against the flower vase. He furrows his eyebrows, reaching forward and picking it up so gently, as if everything he touched was so fragile, so precious, that it would shatter in his fingers. He slowly opens the little card, peering inside. There are words in it, written very neatly. He knows this handwriting. He could have been in a coma for 50 years, he'd always recognize it.

'Hi, baby.

It's been about 3 weeks since you've been asleep. The doctor says you might wake up soon. I really hope so. Things have been on the news, lately. Really frightening things. I wish you were here with me. They're scaring me so much, Blaine. I know writing in this card might be pointless. I mean, you're asleep, you can't read it. But maybe if you wake up and I'm not here because I'm at home waiting for you, you'll get this and read it. I hope I'm there when you wake up. If not, don't worry. I'll be there as soon as the doctor calls me. I love you so much, Blaine. Wake up soon.

-Kurt xo'

Blaine reads over the note, touching the precious words with his fingertips. Kurt wrote this. Kurt must have brought in the flowers with the card to go with them. He blinks his eyes, only just now noticing the tears that have formed in them. It's been such a long time since he's seen Kurt. Even before he fell into his coma he hadn't seen Kurt for the entire day.

He recalls that early morning that Blaine left for work. He and Kurt had gotten into a fight. The last time he saw Kurt, they were fighting. Blaine lowers his head into his hands in grief. The memory was coming back, and it wasn't good.

"Why do you do this, Blaine?" Kurt throws his hands up into the air in frustration, "I never even get to see you anymore! All you do is go out and do your police routine, which scares me to no end because you could get killed; and when you get home, all you want to do is sleep, or go out with your friends—it's never me anymore, Blaine."

Blaine stands at the doorway, pulling on his coat. "Kurt, I'm sorry. You have to understand, this is my job. It's tiring, and yes, it's dangerous, but it's what I do. It's what I have to do to support us. I don't get why you're pinning it on me. I AM tired when I get home, and I do like to loosen up with my friends. But, I think you're overreacting a bit. I spend plenty of time with you when I'm not working. I do try."

Kurt scoffs, crossing his arms in annoyance. "Sure you do. You try so hard to give me that extra five minutes of the day, congratulations." He turns around, walking back towards their room and opens the door, entering the room before turning around back to Blaine. "You know, sometimes I wonder if you even care about me at all." With that, Kurt slams the door shut behind him.

Blaine blinks his eyes at the memory. He remembers how he felt when Kurt uttered those words. He felt so awful about himself. He knew Kurt had a right to be mad, but why would he say that? Heat of the moment, he guesses. It still stung. And it made it even worse, the fact that it was the last time they spoke to each other.

He had to find Kurt. He had to find out what the hell was going on. Having had enough pondering, Blaine gets up from his bed slowly. Propping himself up with one hand, he uses the other to tear off the wires that were attached to his skin, dropping them onto the floor. Grunting, he pushes himself away from the bed, steadying himself before limping his way into the small bathroom.

Upon getting a glimpse of the faucet in the sink, Blaine feels a burning sensation in his throat. Holy hell was he thirsty. He rushes forward, reaching his shaking hand toward the nozzle and turning it, causing water to rush out of the faucet. He cups his hands underneath the stream of water, quickly bringing his head down to the small pool he caused to form in his hands, frantically drinking all he can and savoring every swallow. It isn't cold water, but he doesn't care. After he drinks himself full, he straightens himself out, turning off the water.

Blaine squints his eyes in the semi-darkness at his reflection in the mirror. His hair is a mess. His beard is relatively long. Not too long, though. Kurt must have trimmed it while he was asleep… But, with the absence of people, as suggested by the dead flowers, it must have grown out again.

Blaine opens the drawers of the bathroom, rummaging through for something to cut his beard with. After moments of looking, he finally pulls out a small pair of scissors. This will have to do, he thinks. Raising the scissors to his chin, he carefully cuts at the beard, trying to get off as much as he can.

After about 10 minutes, the hair is as short as he can get it for now. He doesn't have a razor, so he can't do much with it. He quickly trims off a good portion of his head hair, as well. Turning around, Blaine pushes through the door and back into the room. He walks back over to the bedside table, retrieving Kurt's card before walking toward the door. With one last glance around the hospital room, he opens the door, staggering through it and out into the hallway.

~*~xo~*~

Alright, please let me know what you think! I shall continue this story, I'm already on chapter 6, but I have plenty of edits to make. Lastly, I'd like to thank my awesome friend Kelsie for seriously helping me out with this fic. She did think of the awesome title, which I love :) She's writes her own amazing fanfics, if you want to check them out. Her username is sunnyblainey. :) Thank you for reading!

P.S. Please please please review! They make me so happy, and they don't take too much time :) The bar is put right down there for convenience.