*I DO NOT OWN GLEE IN ANY WAY, SHAPE OR FORM*

Part 1

A pair of motherly green eyes scrutinized Blaine's face. It was the umpteenth time that he had been told to stop pacing and sit down so he could be checked over. There was nothing unfriendly about the portly nurse standing before him; she was perfectly unmenacing from her plain brown hair to her sturdy black shoes, but Blaine found himself hating her with every fibre of his being. It was she that wasn't letting him see Kurt, she that was making him sit in the sterile waiting room without telling him how Kurt was. He didn't care about the cuts on his forehead and arms, they were giving him no pain, and so what if his curly black hair was matted with blood. Blaine didn't care about himself. He only cared about Kurt.

"You really need to get those seen to Mr Anderson." She said in a soothing voice.

"I will once you tell me why no one is giving me any information about my boyfriend." He tried to say it politely but it came out as an angry snarl.

"You need to stop thinking about Mr Hummel at the moment and let me clean up your face."

"Don't tell me what to do! He is my fucking boyfriend and I want to see him!" Blaine's voice rose with every passing word until he was shouting at the poor nurse.

"Mr Anderson you need to calm down. A doctor will be out as soon as there is news." And giving him once last disdainful look, she began to clean his wounds.

Giving in to the nurses gentle hands, Blaine slumped over defeated. He didn't want to close his eyes. He didn't want to think. He knew what was waiting for him in the blackness.

Kurt's screams fill his ears. Glass is flying everywhere. Blood clouds his vision. The screech of metal on metal rings through the air. Blaine watches in horror as Kurt's body is flung forwards and engulfed by the black monster.

"Blaine." Kurt whimpers.

"Blaine."

"Blaine."

"Blaine!" Someone was shaking him roughly. Blaine opened his eyes, realising that it was just a flashback. Burt's face swam before him. Blaine was crying, great heaving broken sobs.

"Blaine, hey, hey, it's okay. It's going to be okay." Burt enveloped him in a hug, pulling him close.

"It's my fault… It's all my fault… It should have been me… No one will tell me anything… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry." He managed to gasp through his tears.

"Bullshit Blaine, it wasn't your fault. That driver was hammered. And you being in that room wouldn't solve anything. Calm down. It'll be okay." Burt said softly, beckoning to Carole to take over the hugging.

Blaine somehow regained control over himself during being passed over to Carole. He looked around, seeing Finn pacing around in a circle with his arms crossed and Rachel crying silently beside him.

Everyone was silent for the next twenty minutes; each praying for news of Kurt and trying to comfort each other. Guilt tore through Blaine while watching Burt questioning every passing hospital worker about his son. No matter what he said, Blaine knew it was his fault.

He shouldn't have stopped for coffee, he and Kurt then wouldn't have been rushing to school and they wouldn't have went through the amber light. Even though he knew that he hadn't broken any driving rules – he had been at perfect liberty to go through the changing light – if he hadn't, that beast of a truck wouldn't have ploughed into the side of his car and Kurt wouldn't been in surgery.

He felt like screaming, he wanted it to be him that was in there with broken ribs and a fractured skull. Kurt was an amazing, good, pure, kind person and he didn't deserve this. Blaine had lied, cheated and was a disappointment. He deserved this, not Kurt.

"Hey man, stop it." Finn laid a hand on his shoulder and thumped down into the seat beside him.

"Stop what?" Blaine cleared his throat when his words came out an octave higher than usual.

"Beating yourself up. I can tell you are. This will probably not make a bit of difference to whatever twisted guilt you're feeling right now but honestly man it wasn't your fault. That dude in the other car was drunk. Like intoxicated. You didn't break a rule, it's all on him. Kurt's going to be okay. But for when we get news you really need to get it together, you don't want him to see you like this."

Finn seemed almost breathless after his speech and was scuffing his shoes against the floor embarrassed but Blaine knew he meant every word. He was shocked by the outburst but glad that Finn was speaking sense into him. He did need to get it together.

Not knowing whether to hug him or not, Blaine tapped him on the back in thanks and started to wipe his eyes, "Thanks Finn."

Rachel came over at that point and gave Blaine a squeeze, "It'll be okay."

However much Blaine wanted to crawl into a hole and cry himself to oblivion, he had to be strong for Burt. For Carole. For Finn. For Rachel. And most importantly for Kurt. Kurt was all that mattered.

Excusing himself to go to the toilets, he walked away from the party of couples and into the nearest rest room. He stared unbelievingly at his reflection.

It didn't look like the normal, dapper Blaine at all. His hair was disgustingly caked in blood. His sweater and jeans were ripped and would be thrown out as soon as possible. Cuts and bruises covered every available surface of skin. And his eyes…they were swollen, puffy and haunted. Shaking his head in despair, he grabbed a roll of toilet paper and tried to make himself resemble a human being.

When he felt at least somewhat normal, he exited back out into the waiting room again. The four faces that greeted him were full of pain, shock and disappointment.

"What? What happened? Kurt! Where's Kurt? What's wrong? Where is he? Someone tell me!" he wailed frantically.

"Blaine he's out of surgery." Carole began quietly, glancing at Burt who seemed unable to form words.

"That's good isn't it? He's okay?"

"In a way honey yes."

"In a way?" He echoed quietly, "What do you mean?"

Carole fixed her eyes on him, and said softly, "He's out of surgery, but there were some complications. They fixed his ribs. But he's in a coma."

A coma.

Coma.

The word swirled in Blaine's mind. He didn't remember his knees giving way, but he found himself on the floor.

Carole ran over to him and murmured, "Sweetie it doesn't have to be a bad thing. We just need him to wake up."

"And when will he?" Blaine asked completely brokenly.

"The doctors don't know. He suffered a lot of damage to his head. It might be an hour, a day, a month." Carole stopped, hating what she was about to say, "Honey, he might not wake up."

A scream escaped his lips. He couldn't bear this. Kurt couldn't be in a coma. It had to be some stupid, sick nightmare. But Blaine couldn't hide behind childish wishes. He had to be strong. For Kurt.

Who was in a coma.

The small composure Blaine had found snapped and he turned into a ball of stabbing emotions, wailing and crying.

"Blaine. BLAINE GET A GRIP! GET UP! MOVE!" Arms were yanking at him, Blaine realised Finn and Burt were trying to tackle him into a seat.

"Blaine everyone is upset but you can't just break. You need to get control or I will send you home. I'm his father, I won't have you making a fool of yourself." Burt said sternly.

But Blaine couldn't, wouldn't control his pain. Carole was sitting sobbing, Finn had his arm around her and Rachel who was looking around unsure of what to do, but he didn't care if he made them upset or uncomfortable. His boyfriend, the first boy – possibly the only – that Blaine had ever loved could potentially be as good as dead.

His pain sawed through him like a blunt knife, ripping away all that was sane.

A sharp crack sounded and warmth spread to his cheeks. Blinking, Blaine recognised the dull pain of a slap. Burt stood with his hands at his sides, staring at Blaine, "Blaine I know you care about him, I know how much this is hurting you. But you need to control yourself."

Blaine shook his head dejectedly, "Kurt…I can't…hurts…Kurt."

"I know. I know. But if you can get it together they are going to let us see him. But I won't let you in there until I know you won't throw yourself on my son and hurt him."

See Kurt. Be with Kurt.

Using every last drop of his strength, he pushed away the tidal wave of emotions that was trying to engulf him and pulled himself back to reality. He needed to see Kurt, needed it more than air.

"I'm trying. It's so hard. I love him so much Burt, you need to know that. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry." He gripped the front of Burt's chequered shirt.

"Shhh, Blaine it's okay. It's not your fault. I know you love him. I do too."

"I need to see him. To tell him how sorry I am."

"Shhh, come on."

Burt kept whispering encouragements along the corridors to Kurt's room. Oh God, he was in Intensive Care. This was serious.

"Wait, Burt wait. I can't do this. I can't see him like that. Broken." Blaine slumped against the wall outside his room, cursing at his own fear.

"You're broken too Blaine. Maybe seeing him will fix you. Maybe you can fix each other." Burt said simply. He held out hand slowly, waiting for Blaine to take it.

Deep breath Blaine. You can do this.

Taking Burt's hand, he followed him into the hospital room. It was normal, it had a bed, a chair, a window. Blaine drunk in each of the insignificant features of the room, trying to stall looking at the body in the middle of the room. Then, once he had counted the number of tiles on the floor, he locked eyes on his boyfriends body.

His eyes were closed. A blue bed sheet was covering his small body. His left leg and arm were in casts. His head was bandaged, locks of Kurt's shiny brown hair poking through the bottom. Blaine noted all of these with reasonable acceptance. He could have fooled himself into believing his boyfriend was merely sleeping.

But when he heard Burt's giant sob, Blaine couldn't help the tears that ran down his face. He walked slowly over to the side of Kurt's bed. A drip was attached to his arm and a monitor was bleeping mechanically, telling him that Kurt was still alive in there somewhere.

He touched Kurt's face softly, his skin was warm to touch which Blaine found extremely strange. Kurt should have then placed his hand on top of his and muttered some cheeky remark.

He waited for it to happen. Waited for his eyes to open and a smile to spread out on his face. In every corny film he had watched it always happened. And then the main characters shared a kiss.

But nothing happened. The only sounds were Burt's cries and the heart monitor. Kurt didn't move.

Letting his tears fall, Blaine sunk into the chair and cradled Kurt's hand to his chest. There was nothing left to do but wait.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep…