A/N: Another filler chapter I'm afraid, though not as fluffy as the last one ;) But of course, there were loose ends to be tied up, and repercussions for all the shenanigans from last chapter. Also, I must apologize for what are (I am sure) the numerous errors in ambulance and/or hospital protocol. My knowledge on the two come solely from Grey's Anatomy I'm afraid - which means that should any make-out scenes in on-call rooms make their way into the future of this fic, we're good to go :)

Nevertheless, please enjoy! And as always, thanks for reading!

TEN:

Kurt pulled out of the Dalton parking lot with tears still coursing down his cheeks. As he pulled his car onto the main street beyond the school drive, his heart was swelling with a million emotions. He had wanted Blaine for what seemed like forever; he'd always been more than just a best friend, he was a mentor, someone who could genuinely understand Kurt, someone he could seek comfort from, someone who always said the right things at the right time, someone who knew him. It shouldn't have been a problem, then. Blaine was everything that Jordan wasn't.

But he had thought it was all over. Kurt had genuinely begun to think that he could start to get over Blaine and move on…and Jordan had seemed to be someone who could give him that opportunity. Kurt had counted his chickens, in a metaphorical sense. How could everything change so abruptly in such a short time? He felt like he was making this harder than it should be, conveniently ignoring the truth: that the more he thought about it, the more he didn't want to hurt Jordan. He didn't want to see those bright eyes lit in anything but happiness; he didn't want to see the corner of his lips dip down at the edges, disappointed in him.

The countertenor sniffed heartily, taking one hand off the wheel to wipe the wetness away from beneath his eyes. His vision was blurred, the traffic lights whirling into a psychedelic swirl of color before him. Kurt opened the center console and rummaged around for the box of tissues that he knew were in there. "Oh for goodness sake," he whined waveringly, glancing down into the console to see if he could see them.

It was at that moment that Kurt heard the screech of a car horn. His head whipped up viciously, and through his tear-stained vision, he just had time to see the car in front of him slide in a complete circle on the sleety ground. By the time his foot stamped down on the brake pedal, it was too late. His body whipped forward upon impact, the seatbelt that he had forgotten to buckle hanging uselessly as Kurt shot forward through the windshield.

"If you didn't drive like a goddamn grandma, Anderson –"

"Just. Shut. Up." They were not even five hundred feet down the road that led away from the Dalton parking lot, still approaching the main street. "Just don't talk, don't open your mouth." Blaine was not usually one to lose his temper, but something in Jordan brought it out of him. "We could be the next ones in an ambulance if I'm not careful."

Jordan didn't speak again, but his arms were crossed against his chest and he glared intently straight ahead. As soon as Blaine pulled off of the small road and onto the main street, they were assaulted by bright lights and loud noises. "Oh shit…that looks like…is that…"

"Kurt's car," Blaine finished, heart racing as he hastily pulled into a parallel parking spot not thirty feet away from the mass of cars. "Or what's left of it." He raced to turn the engine off, fingers trembling, and jumped out of his car a few steps behind Jordan, locking it automatically with the button on his keys.

As they ran forward to the scene of the accident, Blaine's face fell in utter horror. There were three cars smashed together in an inextricable knot, one of them undoubtedly belonging to Kurt. Blaine turned his head to quickly survey the damage as they passed, face contorting in horror as he saw the gaping human-sized hole in the windshield. "Jordan," he murmured, not taking his gaze from it.

Jordan's eyes followed his gaze and his mouth fell open slightly. "Shit," he repeatedly cussed, voice shaking slightly. "Where is he?" There were several ambulances in the area, and everywhere was chaos. People were crowding around to see what had happened and policemen were holding them back.

The duo made for the gaggle of people that had gathered about twenty feet away from the twist of cars, figuring that they must be crowding around something. Sure enough, a closer look saw that just beyond the line of policemen were ambulance workers leaning over a body on the ground.

"Kurt!" Blaine called in a voice that cracked as he recognized the man on the ground. He shoved the people nearest him away, seeing only Kurt lying bloody and broken on the ground. "Move…please, please move. I have to get over there."

"Move the fuck out of the way before I move you," Jordan shouted at the vultures blocking their path, shocking them into clearing a path.

Blaine looked at Jordan for a moment, startled. "T-thanks…"

"Just go, Anderson," Jordan said with resignation, pushing his shoulder to get him moving.

Refocused on moving forward, Blaine went straight up the police line, staring at Kurt beyond them. "Stay back kid," one of the officers said condescendingly.

"No. That's Kurt, he's my…my friend." Blaine shook his head obstinately, curls shaking in the process. "You have to let us through, just for a second. I have to see how he is, I have to see. I can't stand here, not…We have to get through."

"We?" Asked the officer dryly, sighing tiredly when he saw Jordan beyond Blaine. In a moment, his eyes flicked over Blaine and Jordan's matching uniforms, and then down to Kurt's Dalton jacket, which had been cast to his side, apparently cut off by the paramedics who were leaning over him. "Fine – but no one else."

Without a word of thanks, Blaine pushed through, dropping to his knees at his friend's side, opposite the paramedics. "Oh my God," Blaine said, wanting to reach out and touch Kurt's face to see if it was still warm, if he was still alive. He felt Jordan kneel carefully beside him. Blaine looked up at the paramedics, who had now rolled a gurney up to the side. "Is he…oh God, I mean…he isn't –"

"He's critical," said one paramedic rapidly. "We need to get him to the ER, stat." They lowered the level of the gurney, bringing Kurt onto it before raising it again.

Blaine had risen when they did, eyes never leaving Kurt. "I need to go with him," Blaine said quickly. "I need to –" He paused when he saw Kurt's eyelashes flutter.

"B…Bl…" Kurt stuttered out in a whisper, not able to put the whole word together.

"I'm here," he called uselessly from the ground as the ambulance crew lifted Kurt into the car.

"One family member only, the other will have to go."

"I'll come," Jordan spoke up for the first time since yelling at the crowd.

Blaine turned to him furiously, circumstances making him overly emotional. "Like hell," he hissed, eyes narrowed.

"Your car," Jordan said rationally. "Or didn't you notice the green zone? Next time find an overnight spot, Anderson."

Blaine gaped in horror as Jordan grabbed the arm of the paramedic and was hoisted into the back of the ambulance. Just like that, they were speeding off and Blaine was left standing there alone. Furiously, he turned back toward his car to drive to the hospital himself.

"What do you mean I can't go back to see him?" Blaine asked the nurse at the desk, with as much patience as he could muster.

"He was just stabilized not long ago, the doctors will tell you when you are allowed to go back to see him. In the meanwhile, is there any other family of his that you should call?"

"Other? Wha –" Blaine sighed and rubbed at his temples. "Yeah," he answered instead, pulling his iPhone out of his pocket. "Just…let me know. I'll be here." He walked back over to the chair where he'd been waiting before as he dialed Kurt's home number.

"Hello?" It was Finn.

"Finn, its Blaine. Is…is Kurt's dad there?"

"Uh, yeah I'll go get him. Are you okay? You sound totally freaked."

"Yeah…I mean no, no. I just need to talk to Kurt's dad."

"Sure, sure, calm down. Here he is." Blaine heard the phone pass hands before Burt's voice came on the other line. "Hello?"

"Mr. Hummel, its Blaine."

"Blaine." Burt paused before clearing his throat. "Uh, Kurt's not home. He had something to do after school."

"I know, I know." Blaine paused, stumbling over the words.

"You do?" Burt's tone was surprised. "Then why the call? You're okay?"

"…No." Blaine felt a bubble rise in his throat, blocking his words.

Obviously Burt heard the change in his voice, because he shifted immediately into worry-mode. "Blaine, what's wrong? Are you okay? Did something happen?"

"It's Kurt," Blaine said, voice breaking again. "Mr. Hummel, something…happened. There was an accident and I don't know how he is, they won't tell me anything. They won't let me back there and I don't know what's going on but it looked so horrible."

"Where are you?"

"The Emergency Unit in the Westerville hospital."

"Stay there. I'm coming right now." The line clicked and went dead. Slowly, Blaine pocketed the phone once again and sat down to wait.

Jordan sat in a chair in the corner of Kurt's recovery room. The doctors had told him to wait there until they brought Kurt in when he was stable. They'd finally done so not ten minutes ago, saying that he would wake anytime in the next few hours.

Vaguely Jordan wondered what had happened to Blaine. Had he followed them here? Possibly, but it was strange that he hadn't come back yet. Not that Jordan particularly lamented over his absence, but if he had been in his shoes, he certainly would have wanted to see Kurt as quickly as possible.

Resolving not to think about Blaine any longer, Jordan turned to observe Kurt once more, so still on the stark white hospital bed. He could see the bandages that wrapped around his chest over what the doctors had said was torn up flesh and several broken ribs, one of which had punctured a lung upon his impact with the ground. His left leg was done up in a cast from the knee down, from a fracture that had pierced the skin of his calf, and a bandage was wrapped around his right wrist. Miraculously, his face remained uninjured. It remained a blank, unmarred, pale canvas against the pillow.

Carefully, so that he wouldn't wake the sleeping figure before he woke up on his own, Jordan inched his chair forward so it was right next to Kurt's bedframe. Hesitantly, he reached out and touched the pale bandaged hand that rested against the sheets, the one devoid of needles and tubes, and took it into his own. Quietly, voice no more than a whisper, he began to sing, a soft serenade that he hadn't intended for anyone to hear.

Here I stand head in hand

Turn my face to the wall

If he's gone I can't go on

Feeling two-foot small

Kurt's eyelids fluttered but Jordan didn't notice. His hand was still on Kurt's, and his other one moved slowly to trace the line of the brace that encircled Kurt's neck.

Everywhere people stare

Each and every day

I can see them laugh at me

And I hear them say

Hey, you've got to hide your love away

Hey, you've got to hide your love away

His wandering hand had moved down to the purpling bruises that were rising over the bandages on Kurt's chest. He didn't notice that Kurt's eyes had opened a fraction, and that the countertenor was currently observing his every action.

How can I even try?

I can never win

Hearing them, seeing them

In the state I'm in –

"You really think so?" Kurt asked weakly, making Jordan jump and quickly move both of his hands back to himself.

"Um…uh, no," he said, clearing his throat. "It's just a song." Raising an eyebrow skeptically, Kurt tried to lift himself into a sitting position, crying out involuntarily in pain as he did so. "Careful, careful – don't move. The doctors said you're pretty bad off."

"What happened?" Kurt asked, using the hand Jordan had been holding to rub his eyes, wincing only slightly when he found that it too was injured. "Why are you here?"

"You crashed," Jordan answered, momentarily ignoring his second question. "I'm…not exactly sure how it happened. We heard sirens, and by the time we got there they were already loading you into the ambulance. They just let me come with you at the last second."

"We?"

"Yeah, me and Blaine…you don't remember?"

"Blaine was there?" Kurt demanded, leaning forward slightly. "Did I…did I say anything?"

"N-no," Jordan answered, deciding that "Bl…" wasn't really saying anything.

Kurt sighed and leaned back again, closing his eyes. "I'm so tired."

"You should rest," Jordan said quietly. "I'll be here."

"But my dad," Kurt worried. "He's probably…" No he wasn't, Kurt realized. He'd said that he wouldn't get home until later that night.

"I'll ask someone to call him," Jordan said reassuringly. "You shouldn't worry about it now. Just rest." For once, Kurt didn't put up an argument. He simply did as he was told.

When the doctor came in about twenty minutes later to ask if Kurt had said anything yet, Jordan mentioned Kurt's dad, to which the man replied that things were 'taken care of'. Jordan was sure he had no idea what that meant, or where they'd have gotten the information to 'take care' of anything. Perhaps they'd found it from Kurt's phone, which was currently sitting in a little cubby along with the rest of the possessions that they'd stripped him of in the ambulance. In the end, Jordan didn't find any cause to pursue the matter further.

Blaine shot off of the waiting room chair like a rocket when he saw Burt Hummel walk through the hospital doors, quickly sticking to the man's side like a burr. "Anything?"

"They won't tell me anything," Blaine complained. "I'm not family, that's what they keep saying."

"Come with me." He walked up the woman at the counter, who sat popping her gum and reading a tabloid magazine. "We're going back to see Kurt Hummel." He did not phrase it as a question.

The woman stared at him a moment before speaking. "I'm going to need identification."

"Burt Hummel," he said, picking out his driver's license as proof. "I'm his father, and I'm going back to see him."

"This way, Mr. Hummel." She led them to the double doors behind which various rooms lay, shaking her head as Blaine made to go past behind Burt. "Family only; it isn't visiting hours, kid."

Blaine's face sank to look at the ground, but he looked up when he felt Burt's hand on his shoulder. "The 'kid' is coming," he said with finality. Burt gave him a nod and a half-smile, not letting go of his shoulder until the woman resumed the lead once again, looking considerably more disgruntled than she had when they started, which was saying a lot.

She led the way to the door, and Burt didn't hesitate to open it. He froze in the doorway. Blaine craned his neck to look around Kurt's father, jaw dropping when he saw who sat dozing in the chair at Kurt's side.

"Who are you?" "What are you doing here?" Burt and Blaine spoke at the same time, startling Jordan into wakefulness. The older man turned to Blaine. "You know this guy?"

"Yeah…" Blaine said unhelpfully, glaring at Jordan.

He could see the cogs turning in Burt's head for a fraction of a minute, but soon his head tilted back in understanding and he turned to look at Jordan once again.

"J-Jordan Aaron," the other Warbler stuttered out, earning another frown from Blaine. He offered a hand which Burt took shortly before letting go.

"Have you been here the entire time, Aaron?" Blaine asked incredulously.

"Since they brought him back…" Jordan's was phrasing his words carefully, seemingly nervous around Burt. "From wherever they bandaged him up and stuff."

"I can't believe this," Blaine muttered, shaking his head.

"Blaine," Burt said, looking at him. "Why'd they let this guy in here and not you?"

"He came on the ambulance," he answered, still muttering. Burt's eyebrows rose up his forehead, lips pressing into a line.

"I think you should probably leave," he told Jordan, no emotion betrayed on his face.

"Oh…I…uh…I mean, yes sir." He hastily extracted himself from the seat and stumbled to the door. He paused as if he wanted to say something, but thought better of it and left without another word.

"So," Burt said contemplatively, sitting in the newly vacated seat and drawing up another empty chair for Blaine, from where it had sat against the wall. "Was that the kid Kurt was supposed to go…out with tonight?"

"Mhmm." Blaine had sat down in the offered seat and now stared intently at his interlaced hands.

"You don't seem too happy about it." Burt paused. "What, you don't like him? Or is it…something else?"

Blaine squirmed for a moment, looking immensely uncomfortable. He wondered if Kurt had to endure talks like these all the time. "Both I suppose, Mr. Hummel."

The elder nodded his head, looking at Kurt on the hospital bed. For the first time since they'd walked in, Blaine saw the stretched skin across Burt's temples, tight with worry. He saw how the older man gnawed lightly on his bottom lip, and how his eyes flicked rapidly back and forth over his son's sleeping body.

"He'll be alright, Mr. Hummel," Blaine said, nodding his head as if the extra action would increase the certainty behind his sentiment.

"I know, I know." The reply came quickly. "But Kurt is, ah…all I really have left, you know. I mean I have Carole now and Finn as well. But Kurt…for the longest time we only had each other. When I was in the hospital at the end of last year…well, now I know how he must have felt."

Blaine didn't say anything. He hadn't known that Burt had needed to go to the hospital this school year. One of the many things he still didn't know about Kurt's life, and he had been the one lecturing Jordan on not knowing him. He was just as bad.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Hummel."

"For what?" Burt asked, eyes not leaving Kurt. "You didn't do this."

"I'm not so sure. He was…upset with me, I guess. I didn't want him going anywhere with Jordan –" Blaine wasn't going to mention anything else, but Burt cut him off.

"Because?" He looked at Blaine expectantly. When the younger man didn't say anything, Burt sighed and shook his head. "Listen, I don't know much about…love or anything. I've always gotten lucky. And I don't know anything about your situation, or what it's like to have feelings for another guy, but if you like someone – and it doesn't matter who, a person is a person – you can't wait around until it's too late to do something about it."

"Are you following me?" Blaine nodded with wide eyes when Burt paused for his answer. "You have to do what makes you happy. You have one life to live, kid – just one. You can never get back the time that's past, you can't correct a mistake that's already been made, and once something is lost for good, you can't get it back. All you can do is take life and run with it, not afraid. It's not enough to put your cards on the table. You have to play them if you want to win anything."

Blaine contemplated Burt's words for a moment, nodding as they sunk in. Kurt's father was no idiot, that fact was more obvious than ever. After another moment, he stood. "I should probably leave you two alone now."

"Actually," Burt said casually, also standing. "I was about to go get some coffee. I might grab a scone or something too; it should take, oh," he glanced at his watch, "fifteen or twenty minutes." He gave Blaine a meaningful look before leaving.

Blaine stood before the bed, completely flabbergasted. It floored him that someone could have a father that was so…perfect. Burt was like some alien species that walked around spouting words of kindness and understanding. It was something he envied, more than Kurt knew. In the past ten minutes, he and Burt had talked more about love and meaning and confidence than he had with his real father in his entire life.

Subconsciously, Blaine rubbed at his wrists. He wondered what Burt would think if he knew. He was almost tempted to run and tell him now, just to get it off of his chest. But reality stayed Blaine's tongue. Knowing that Burt would be back in about fifteen minutes, Blaine resolved to be gone when the man returned, as Burt had no doubt intended.

He pulled the chair closer to Kurt's bedside, taking time to inspect his friend. Seeing the bruises that blossomed over his pale chest, Blaine stood with eyes wide. Delicately, he sat down on the edge of the bed. Blaine unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt and rolled it up until his own bruises were showing, though they were fading into yellowness, at least for now. He held his arm up to Kurt's chest, looking at them both side by side.

A strange emotion was making its way through his chest, creating a deep constricting feeling. Hastily, Blaine pushed his sleeve back down, instead lowering his hand to trace the purple edges on Kurt's chest lightly. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry that I can't protect you…always."

He drew his hand back and simply looked at Kurt's still face for a while, the steady beep of the heart monitor a reassuring noise in the background. After a moment, his hand had gone back to Kurt again, this time rising to stroke back his hair, disheveled in such a contrary way to its usual order. He hated and yet was in awe of how he couldn't seem to keep his hands to himself for any substantial amount of time. Nothing had ever controlled him so completely.

Blaine just sat quietly, hand softly running through Kurt's hair from his temple to the base of his head over and over again. It was just as soft as he'd imagined, all those times he'd thought about doing just this – though in those fantasies Kurt had been awake. Thinking that it must have been almost ten minutes since Burt had gone, Blaine sighed and returned his hand to himself, thinking that he'd better get going in case he decided to come back a bit early.

"Don't stop," a quiet voice came from the bed.

Blaine looked around to see Kurt's eyes open, though not all the way. "Kurt! You…you're…"

"It felt good." Kurt's face contorted as he shifted, making panic rise in Blaine rapidly. "Blaine, you're…you're sitting on my blanket. I can't move."

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, I'm –" he jumped up hurriedly. He linked his hands in front of him, then crossed his arms…then shoved them in his pockets all in a matter of seconds, none of the positions feeling as natural as when they'd been running through Kurt's hair. "If you hadn't…I mean, if something had happened to you, Kurt."

"It didn't."

"But it could have. It so easily could have. People break so easily, Kurt. We're fragile. That's why we need armor, and munitions, and shelter. I…well…I don't think I would have been able to live if something had happened to you."

Kurt was silent for a moment, looking at Blaine. Finally he broke eye contact and sighed. "Blaine…"

"You don't have to say anything, Kurt. I mean about what happened. I – I won't tell anyone." He took a great breath, Burt's words echoing in his mind. "Someone said something really great to me today…and I plan on listening to him. I know why you left: you were confused, you still are. I get that, believe me." He looked Kurt directly in his eyes. "But now you know…well, everything really. My cards are on the table, Kurt."

Kurt was still shocked into immobility when Blaine stepped closer, and his mouth slackened slightly when the other Warbler bent down and pressed his lips to his cheek, lingering there for a moment longer than would have been natural. Blaine straightened with eyes full of care. "I hope I have a good hand, because I intend on playing them. I have to." He turned and walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. "Promise me you'll get better, Kurt."

"I…I promise." Blaine's mouth tilted up at the corner at Kurt's reply, and he left without saying another word. Kurt remained staring at the place he'd last seen Blaine for long time, even after the other teen was long gone.

You've Got to Hide Your Love Away - The Beatles