Chapter 2

Present day…

The first time he woke up, he did not even open his eyes; a throbbing headache was clouding his mind. He could vaguely hear voices talking around him. He did not try to stay awake, instead letting himself drifting back into a deep sleep.

Bip… bip… bip… It was the first thing Kurt heard when he regained consciousness. It was one of those weird times when you wake up and you have no clue what time it is, how long you have slept, what happened the day before and what must happen today. He didn't even know where he was. The only thing that could help him was that annoying noise repeating over and over again that was starting to get to him. Where did it come from? He did not remember having anything like that in his bedroom. He would have smashed it against the wall a long time ago. Not opening his eyes, Kurt tried to focus. What day was it? He needed to know if he had to get up to prepare for school or if he could stay in bed for a little while longer. But even without moving, he felt drained. He was even unable to just open his eyes. So, of two possibilities, one, he had slept only a few hours and he still had time before having to get up; two, he was running a fever and then, he would skip school today. It was more likely the second possibility, because he could feel a throbbing headache slowly making its way, clouding his mind. As he made to reach for his phone that was usually on his nightstand, he could not suppress a hiss of pain. Why did his ribs hurt so much?

"Kurt?" It was his father's voice and it was shaking.

Kurt understood at that point that something was off.

He slowly opened his eyes and realised it was really harder a task than it should be. His eyes simply would not open. Weird… Creepy would be even more accurate. He tried to turn his head to where he had heard his father's voice, but that simple movement caused an unbelievable amount of pain throughout his body. Now, he was scared.

"Dad?" he said, panicked. "Dad, what's going on? Why can't I move?"

He wanted to grasp his father's hand, but his own hand was confined in some sort of vice.

"Kurt, buddy! How are you feeling?" Burt seemed to be very close to him. Kurt felt a hand brushing a few strands on his forehead. "Kurt, I need to go find a nurse to tell them you're awake, I'll be back in no time."

Kurt did not have time to protest, his dad was already gone. Find a nurse? Was he missing something? What was he doing in a hospital? He could not push his reflection any further as he heard his father come back. He could smell a female perfume and guessed that he had indeed found a nurse.

"Hello, there!" she said, and Kurt could hear a smile in her tone of voice. "Finally awake, are we? That's good news!"

Finally? Had he been out that long? And again, what was he doing in a hospital?

"Are you alright, kiddo?" His father must have seen the look on his face.

"No. no, I'm not!" Kurt finally spoke, "What's going on? What am I doing here?"

"You don't remember?" Oddly, his father sounded relieved.

"Remember what?" Kurt was breathing heavily now, trying hard not to hyperventilate, "I don't remember anything! I can't see and I have no freaking clue what I am doing here and why I'm aching all over!"

"Alright Kurt, listen to me." It was the nurse. "Breathe slowly through your nose. You have to calm down. Just take a deep breath, count to three, and release. I'll do it with you, alright?" She was speaking calmly, inhaling and exhaling deeply to show him how to proceed.

Kurt tried to focus on her breathing. Deep breath, count to three, release. Deep breath … He started to relax in the bed. The room fell silent and he could feel his heart coming to a reasonable pace. He waited a few more minutes to make sure he would not have another fit of panic. The silence in the room was deafening.

"Are you alright, son?" Burt finally whispered.

Kurt hesitated but then nodded.

"Dad, what happened?" He asked. His voice was soft, but it was clear that he desperately needed an answer, "What am I doing here?"

He waited for an answer that was long to come. His father was visibly struggling over what to say. Was it so bad? Burt cleared his throat.

"I don't know what to tell you. I got a call from a stranger telling me that he saw you rolling down a flight of stairs, that you were unconscious and that he had called an ambulance. I don't even know where that happened. I got to the hospital at the same time the ambulance did. And I saw you on the stretcher. You were…" he took a deep breath, "You were bleeding and you were unconscious and so, so pale… and I thought you were… but you're fine now, Kurt."

Kurt had had very few occasions to hear his father cry. In fact, he was positive that Burt had only allowed himself to cry in front of his son the day Kurt's mother died. And Kurt had hated it. His father was supposed to be the stronger one, even if it was childish and unfair. So, Kurt wanted to tell his dad that there was no need to cry, that everything was going to be okay and that he was fine. But he did not know that. He was in so much pain. What if some of his injuries could not be fixed? What if his spinal cord had been damaged?

"Kurt?" The nurse was close to him, clearly noticing his scared face. "I've been taking a look at your file. You're fine. The paramedics took good care of you all the way to the hospital, and then you were immediately taken into surgery. You had some internal bleedings that needed to be taken care of, but everything went well."

Kurt released a breath he did not know he had been holding. He was fine. No permanent damage. No wheelchair. Still…

"So why can't I see? Because, I've been trying to open my eyes since I woke up, but nothing!"

"What?" His father sounded surprised.

He suddenly felt the gentle hands of the nurse on his face. "Can you see the light, Kurt?" Kurt scoffed. See the light… We are not in Ghost Whisperer! But then he got what she meant, and his smirk disappeared.

"I can't see any light, my eyes are closed!" He shouted. "I told you, I can't open them!"

He was annoyed and scared.

"Kurt, you really can't see a thing?" The voice of his father was hesitant and seemed frightened. "Because, I can see you, and I can tell your eyes are very much open…"

"But… No, my eyes are closed" Kurt answered softly, dread suddenly running down his spine, "I can't see anything…"

Kurt felt a rough hand grip his arm gently. His father's hand. A few tears reached his eyes as realisation downed on him. He was…

"Kurt?" his father's voice was shaking again. "Don't go imagining things that could not be. The nurse just left and I think she will come back with a doctor so that you can be checked out."

But Kurt was not listening anymore. He knew he was not imagining things. He could not – see – a thing. There was only one word for this kind of problem. But he was not ready to say or hear it.

The door opened and he heard several people coming in. Soon, he felt crowded as doctors began examining him, putting their hands on his eyelids to open his eyes larger. He could hear the clicking noise of small flashlights being turned on to take a closer look at his eyes. No one talked to him. It was like he was not here. He tried to be patient; he knew they were trying to help, make him feel better. That's what doctors did. But his father had never been a patient man.

"So?" He said, very impatiently, "What's the problem?"

There was a moment of silence and Kurt was sure they were having a silent conversation. Suddenly, his father pressed his arm softly.

"I'll be right outside, buddy. Call if you need anything."

And of course, they were taking this conversation in the hall. They didn't want Kurt to hear anything disturbing. But they were just confirming his fears. When Kurt did not hear the door close completely, he tried to overhear whet was being said in the corridor. He only managed to catch a few words like "run some more tests", or "post-traumatic blindness", but then someone must have noticed the door was open, because Kurt heard it slam closed. From what he had caught, he was blind. But he watched a lot of TV shows, he knew what post-traumatic blindness was. He knew it could be only temporary. That was a good point in all his misery. The door opened again and closed immediately after. Only one person was there.

"You heard, huh?"

Kurt nodded to his father. "Not everything, though." He snorted. "Until now, I thought post-traumatic blindness only existed in cinema. I would have never believed one could lose sight just because of what happened to them… And now it's happening to me."

His father did not comment. They both fell silent, lost in their thoughts.

"The doctors said that it could help if you remembered what happened to you. Once you do, they can start the healing process, with a therapist and all."

Kurt sighed. "The problem is I don't have the slightest idea of what happened. I'm trying to remember, trying really hard, but nothing."

"Take your time. You also need to rest, it's important."

But Kurt knew it would be impossible to find sleep now that he was aware of the situation.

"I don't think I'll be able to rest as long as I don't know what happened."

Kurt heard his father sigh and shift in his seat next to Kurt's bed.

"Before you woke up, I talked a lot with the doctors. And given what they told me about your injuries, I have a few ideas about what could have happened to you. But, I'd rather you remember by yourself. So, I'll leave you some time. Try to concentrate on the last memory you have, what you were doing at the time, where you were going. And then, try to go on like that."

Kurt tried a bit, but he was afraid of what he might discover.

"What if it doesn't make my sight come back? What if I go mental when I remember?" He was shaking slightly. "Because, what would be so traumatizing that…" But as he was asking the question, the answer came by itself, clear in his head. A series of pictures popped in his mind. Very short scenes, no, memories were coming back to him. And Kurt felt like dying. No. He fell back on his pillow and stopped interacting with the world.

"Kurt? Kurt, buddy, are you ok?" Burt had just seen his son fell limp on his bed. His eyes seemed even more lost than before and it was like he had gone somewhere far away in his mind. And that was scaring the shit out of Burt. He quickly clicked the emergency button and a nurse came and checked Kurt's vitals.

"He is in shock. Don't worry Mr Hummel, your son is fine. But what happened? What made him like this all of a sudden?"

So Burt explained the situation.

"Well, I think he managed to remember." The Nurses said, while sadly watching the limp body on the bed. "Maybe his mind wasn't strong enough to take it."

"What?" Burt exclaimed, scandalized. "But the doctors said…"

"The doctors don't know your son, nor do they know what happened to him. I'm sorry Mr Hummel."

"So, what now?" He asked in a small voice, afraid of the answer.

The nurse looked at him, and then at Kurt. "Only time will tell."

Burt fell back on his chair, devastated. He had been encouraging his son to remember, and for what? His son seemed even worse than before. What was he supposed to do, now? He suddenly realised that Kurt was whispering something. Standing up and leaning against the bed, Burt tried to decipher what he was saying, and was very surprised by what he heard.

"Puck… I want to see Puck."