AN: I'm sorry for the late update, but I've had some really nice and surprising things happening to me in real life, which made it difficult to write this as dark as I wanted to as fast as I usually do.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.


Finally he is back at McKinley – no more dreaded and hurtful talks with the therapist, no more hospital beds and sterile surroundings, no more worried calls and looks from his father. He's back in the hallways at his school, he can spend time with his friends again, and Kurt is feeling really good. He takes one last quick look at the mirror in his locker, and is satisfied with both hair and clothes today. He's sporting a pair of purple skin tight jeans, white boots, a black shimmering button up and the last McQueen-jacket in white. Hair is perfect.

He slips into the choir room, and is greeted by all of his friends. Warm hugs, pats on his back, sweet words and big smiles. Schue, their director, joins them shortly after.

"Kurt, it's good to see you are back, I do hope you're feeling better."

"I'm feeling great," Kurt replies honestly.

"Great, great. Listen, Regionals are up in two weeks, and we need to work on our set list. We have more or less finished a group number while you were away, and Santana and Puck are working on a duet. I was wondering if you would like the solo this year?"

Kurt is dumbstruck. It's so unlike them to be so prepared several days before a competition, but Kurt doesn't stop to ponder about that. He just got offered a solo – he's trembling from anticipation and happiness.

"Yes, yes, of course yes!" he beams.

"Excellent, Kurt. I have some suggestions, but you think about potential numbers as well, and we'll talk more about it during practice tomorrow. Now, we need to let Kurt in on our group number. Mike, can you teach him the dance routine?"

Kurt and Mike get up and head for the auditorium to work on the dance moves. It's a really great routine. Challenging, but so much fun, and Kurt expects it to be grand when all 12 of them are doing it together.

The bell which ends last class for the day has chimed, but Kurt needs to get back to his locker. He's got a lot of home work to do after his absence, and needs to get all the necessary papers and books with him back home.

The hallways aren't as crowded now; a lot of the kids have gone home. Some cheerleaders pass him and nod a quick hello – they haven't forgotten how he helped them win Nationals. He smiles back, mouthing a "hi".

He turns a corner, and walks right into a wall of flesh.

"What did you tell them?" a familiar voice hisses. Kurt freezes wide eyed, his vocal chords are on a strike, and his legs are paralyzed. Karofsky, is the only thing his mind manages to think.

Two big hands grab him by the lapels of his wonderful jacket, and lift him up from the floor.

"I told you I'd kill you if you told anyone" the voice spits in a threatening whisper. Kurt is shaking, tears are pooling up in his eyes, but he isn't able to say the four words I haven't told anyone. "Do you know what people have been talking about while you were at that crazy-house? They think it's my fault, and now you have to pay, fairy!" He shouts now, pressing Kurt more and more into the wall as if he thinks it will open up and swallow him.

In one quick movement, Karofsky has taken hold of Kurt's tie, and is dragging him after him down the hallway. Kurt trips, falls, and ends up being dragged with his feet and butt stumbling on the floor. He tries to get off of his grip, but it's impossible from his position. The tie tightens, and it gets more and more difficult to breath. He tries to get a hold of his tie with his own arms, but Karofsky's grip is too firm and close to the knot, it's nothing he can do to loosen the tightness around his throat.

There are other people in the hallway, but no one does anything to stop Karofsky. Anyone should understand Kurt doesn't want this, but not one single person interferes. Tiny stars are dancing in front of Kurt's eyes, bright lights in all the blackness, and he can't see anything else. He thinks he's about to choke, when Karofsky stops. Kurt hears the beep from a car alarm being unlocked. Karofsky lets go of his tie, but then his strong arms envelope his waist, and Kurt has no chance to react before he's being thrown into the trunk of a car.

The lid is being slammed shut, and shortly after the sound of an engine starts. Kurt coughs, trying to get his breath back, but his lungs won't completely cooperate. He tries to scream, he tries to knock on the lid, but he knows no one can hear him.

Finally, his tears escape from his eyes.

He must have fallen asleep or blacked out, but Kurt is brought awake by two hands on his shoulders, shaking him. He can't hear what the voice says, it's too dark, but he tries to fight off the hands. He has to, he doesn't know what Karofsky will do, but his threat seems too real and not something Kurt wants to take lightly right now.

One hand is shaking him, the other hand caressing his cheek. No, no, no, Kurt thinks, don't touch me, don't kiss me, don't do this. His voice still won't give out any sound. He trembles, feet kicking, but they are trapped in something.

The hands are trying to move him, get him out of the trunk, and Kurt does everything in his power to protest, but his body is tired and in an odd position, so it's not much he can do. He tries to toss, roll and trash around to make himself more difficult to grab and lift. He doesn't know if it works, but the arms stop trying to pull up his upper body, and is forcing him to lie still instead. Oh God, what is Karofsky going to do? Will he rape him? Will he be punched to death in the trunk? Has he got a gun, weapon? Is this it? Where are they?

As if granted a wish by a genie, his voice suddenly has volume, and Kurt screams from the top of his lungs. Probably surprised, the hands loosen their grip one tenth of a second too long, and Kurt uses the opportunity to try an escape. He kicks and hits around him, and aims to jump out of the trunk to run away. He lifts his upper body, decides to just roll out the short distance to the ground, but somehow the car has grown higher during their ride, so Kurt falls.

The pain shoots through his body, as he lands nose first on a hard, cold floor. He curls into himself, trying to force away the pain and find back to the breath punched out of him when he landed. A gentle hand is laid to rest on his shoulder, and a concerned voice is waving in and out of the drumming in his head.

"Kurt … me? … bed …. OK? … lift you…"

Strong, careful arms take hold of him, and help him back on his feet. They let go of him. Kurt takes one step on shaking legs, he's dizzy, and almost collapses on the floor. The hands are back immediately, steadying him, holding him upright. His breathe is erratic; quick and short intakes of air, he forgets to breath out again. The arms slowly push him backwards until his hips meet something hard. Then the arms move to his waist, and with ease lifts him up. Kurt realizes he's being sat down in a bed, and it isn't until then he opens his eyes.

Kurt blinks a couple of times, confused and disoriented. He is in fact sitting in a bed, in the room he's been living in for the last four nights, at the psychiatric ward. Where did Karofsky go? Margaret is sitting beside him in the bed, and crouched in front of him on the floor is a male assistant he hasn't noticed before.

"You had a nightmare," Margaret tells him.

Oh. A nightmare. So the kidnapping wasn't true? It felt so real, though. He looks around the room, just in case.

"I never was in the trunk of a car?" he asks, voice shaking and hoarse.

"You're safe," Margaret comforts him, gently patting him on the knee. Kurt shivers, and leans away from her touch.

"Do you want to go back to sleep?" the male on the floor asks.

"No!" Kurt quickly interrupts. If what he experienced in fact only was a dream, he is able to escape, and won't go back to it.

"You can come and sit in the common room, if you want to," he offers.

Kurt tries to get out of bed, but his legs buckle under him, and he leans heavily on the bed to stay upright.

"I have to leave…" he mumbles. He can't stay in this room now. Margaret and the man stand up as well, and guide him to lean on their shoulders. They help him out in the common room, and he slumps down in a couch.

"Do you want anything, Kurt?" Margaret asks with a kind, soothing voice and Kurt actually thinks for a while if there's anything he wants.

"Book, on the nightstand," he mumbles. His head feels foggy, his throat dry and voice rasp. His body feels heavy, he's nauseous, and everything spins in slow motion. Tim the assistant has already left to pick up his book.

"I guess you feel a bit weird, but it's the sleeping pills. They are still in your system; you haven't slept as long as the pills' effect lasts. That's why it was so difficult to wake you up as well."

"It felt so real," Kurt whispers. He still feels scared, his heart is beating fast, and he feels sticky from dried sweat.

"Some get nightmares as a side effect from the pills, so I'll have a talk with doctor Whimchester about it in the morning."

Kurt settles down in the couch with the book and a big glass of water. Margaret has promised to make him coffee. Strong coffee. Kurt opens the book to the first page, and starts reading. After ten pages, he realizes he can't remember one single word he has read. His eyes fly over the words, the sentences, the lines, the pages. His left hand turns to a new page each time his eyes land on the bottom right corner of the book. But his mind isn't in it. It doesn't see the words, understand the meaning. They are just letters. He continues to read, though. It's a way to be occupied, to keep himself awake. Kurt glances quickly at the big clock on the wall. It's a quarter past four. Roughly four more hours before breakfast. Maybe it'll be easier to stay awake when the others are around. Kurt can do this. He sighs, rubs his eyes forcefully, sits up straighter with his feet firmly planted on the floor, and continues the non-reading of the book.

After two hours he's done with the book, so he starts over again – why not? It's not like he's actually absorbed any of the words, so it's just something for his hands to do. A part of Kurt wants to go back to sleep; his eyes are heavy, his body aches, and he just wants to disappear to sweet dreams. But then he remembers his nightmare, and a cold shiver runs down his spine, he starts to sweat, and he doesn't want to try sleeping anyway.

Both Margaret and Tim – the male assistant, Kurt had learned – have tried to make conversation with Kurt, but he honestly has nothing to say, nothing to tell. They don't nag about him getting back to bed, and let him be alone when he answers with short, muffled words. Margaret gives him coffee and water, but they drop by the common room now and then to see if he needs anything. Otherwise they are in the hallway, checking in on the rooms where the other patients are sleeping, being available if anyone needs them, and whisper silently together about Tim's new cat and Margaret knitting a new sweater for her youngest granddaughter.

Half an hour before breakfast, Kurt decides to take a shower. The words on the pages are starting to swim, and his eyes droop, so he has to do something else to pass time. A long hot shower to help his tense body, and then a cold shower to be more awake, that sounds like a plan.

By the time he's out of the shower, Thomas is waiting for him in his room.

"Hey Kurt, I heard you've had a rough night."

"Yeah…"

"I'll call doctor Whimchester about the pills, as we aren't allowed to alter the prescriptions the doctors make. How are your bandages, did they get wet in the shower; should they be changed?"

Kurt studies the soaked fabric on his wrists, and shrugs.

"I'll make sure a nurse comes by really soon. Do you want to join us for breakfast?"

Kurt quickly shakes his head, but stops when it makes him dizzy.

"No thank you, I feel squeamish, don't want to throw up by the table."

"That's quite understandable after such a night. Are there anything else I can get you?" Thomas asks with polite concern. Kurt thinks about it for a while. He had been thinking about something when he studied himself in the mirror in the bathroom.

"Umm… Could I borrow my razor, to get rid of this?" he asks, waving a hand in front of his own face. He hasn't shaved in almost a week, and although he really doesn't care how he looks, it will be a way to kill some more time.

"Sure, of course."

An hour later, Kurt is clean shaved, and he's gone through some random bottles of skin products his father had packed – not the right one and not everyone he normally would need, but Kurt honestly doesn't care, he just needs to do something to stay awake. The nurse has just left his room, and he has clean and dry bandages on his wrists. The nurse had explained he could remove the bandages on Monday, as the wounds were healed enough. She would come back later to remove the stitches.

It's the weekend, so they have no program to follow. Thomas had explained they were free to do whatever they wanted, but the TV wasn't allowed until after five o' clock. Later on the staff will organize a walk for those who want some fresh air or need to restock in the shop on the corner. Kurt mentally goes through his toiletries, and decides he has everything he needs. Maybe he could buy some magazines, but what's the point? Kurt sighs, and slumps down in his bed, making a new effort to read the book he borrowed from Blaine.

He takes his time, really concentrating to absorb and digest the words, not only skimming through. Kurt actually manages quite fine, although he has to stare wide eyed on each sentence and read it three times to catch every single word.

Kurt is jostled by the thud from the book which lands on the floor. He blinks several times, stifles a yawn and shakes his head. He almost fell asleep. He has to get out of this bed if he wants to continue escaping from his nightmare. As if saved by the bell, his phone buzzes.

Are you busy? Blaine

Kurt can't exactly say he's busy, so he types out five letters and two words.

No. Why?

The answer comes faster than Kurt thought it possible to text.

Please meet me in my room in twenty minutes.

Kurt frowns. Part of him is curious, but the bigger part is hesitant. Is this a trap? Is Blaine trying to reel him into a fluffy cocoon of safety, before throwing him into the centre of the storm? Kurt tries to breathe with his stomach and lower his shoulders. Where can he feel safe, where is his sanctuary? How much has he already lost, and how much more will he lose?

18 minutes has passed since he received Blaine's last text. Kurt takes a deep breath, before getting up from bed to find Thomas telling him where he's going. It's the best safety net available for now.


There's a knock on his door, and Blaine quickly opens it. He's been pacing, waiting, hoping Kurt would come. Blaine is nervous, afraid he had said something wrong or done something stupid. He never got a response to his request, and he's taken a big chance now, not knowing if he's crossed some limits or broken any rules. At the sight of the boy, he visibly relaxes, glad he at least showed up.

"Hi," he exhales, finally able to breath. "Please come in," he says, opening the door more and gesturing for Kurt to enter. He notices how careful and guarded the boy steps over the threshold, and his throat thickens.

"I… Umm… I got you this," he says, ducking his blushing head while handing Kurt one of the paper cups standing on his desk. Kurt looks curiously at it, but accepts it.

"What is it?"

"Have a taste," Blaine says, hoping he's encouraging the boy. He can see how restricted and hesitant the boy is. "I haven't spiked it," he laughs carefully, and counts it as a victory when the other boy takes a small sip.

"You know my coffee order!" His blue eyes brighten, and Blaine can almost see a smile on his face as Kurt takes another sip.

"I know your coffee order," Blaine states matter of factly. "Please sit down," he continues as he grabs the other paper cup with his own coffee. Blaine settles down in his chair, and Kurt gently sits down on his made bed.

"Why did you do this?" Kurt asks in a hushed voice.

"The coffee we get here isn't really that great," Blaine shrugs. It hadn't been his plan when he got to know Kurt's coffee order, but today it had seemed like a great idea.

"So you went out to get coffee?"

"Yeah…" Blaine can see Kurt's curiousness in his eyes, and he can see his hesitance to ask more. Blaine wants this. He wants to get to know the boy better, and it would be nice to have someone to talk with here. Even though they haven't talked much since they first met, Blaine still thinks they have some kind of connection. He decides to take yet another chance in front of this boy, and share something with him; maybe it'll make him open up more easily.

"As part of my treatment, I have to leave the hospital area for at least half an hour each day. It's me against my fears and the world," Blaine says rolling his eyes and making jazz hands. He quickly looks at Kurt, who sits with his head slightly tilted, big question marks in his pupils. But Kurt is too polite to ask.

"I… I've run away, a lot, from my problems." Blaine swallows, trying to get rid of the big lump which isn't his adam apple. He takes a big sip of his coffee, almost burning himself. "Doctor Whimchester says it's about time to 'face the music', and 'interact with the society'." Blaine can't help but imitate the psychiatrist's voice, and looks up at the sound of Kurt giggling.

"I'm so sorry!" the boy interrupts himself, "that was uncalled for. Just your voice…"

"It's quite OK," Blaine quickly adds, smiling with his mouth shut.

"So you have your daily adventures, and today's mission was coffee," Kurt states, making the other boy smile slightly wider. "But I didn't think we were allowed to leave on our own?"

"We aren't at first – everyone here has been through a trauma of some sort, and needs time to heal. When you're deemed ready, you can go out for shorter amounts of time for errands or apply for some time on leave to visit family or whatever."

Kurt simply nods while Blaine does his best to let him into more of the complex and intricate systems of the ward. He doesn't quite know what more to say about it, and takes a sip of his coffee.

"Have you started reading the book yet?" Blaine asks after a while.

"Umm, yeah, kind of," Kurt answers blushingly.

"Kind of?" Blaine replies, eyebrows raised.

The room is silent for some minutes, and Blaine can see Kurt searches for the words.

"I read it once, and then I read it twice, but I never got any of the words. It's like it was written in a foreign language, and I couldn't understand a word. They are just meaningless letters."

"Oh I know, I know," Blaine chimes in. It's all too familiar, the lack of concentration, how the words start to swim, and you can read an entire book without being able to find a single word to tell what it was about afterwards.

"I started to read it a third time, though, and if I really focus and work hard, I get some of the storyline. But it's exhausting. I guess my brain is foggy from the sleeping pills as well."

Blaine is impressed. Kurt seems like a fighter if he doesn't give up that easily, and tries so hard to actually read the book.

"I really need the distraction," Kurt says, and Blaine realizes he voiced his thoughts out loud.

"Well, thank you for the coffee, but I should go back to my room," Kurt says getting up from the bed.

"Oh, OK, well, see you later?"

Kurt looks at Blaine quizzically.

"Yeeees," he says, dragging out the word. "I don't think I will be discharged within the next few hours."

Blaine blushes, silently accusing himself for being a complete idiot.

"Or else you have my number," Kurt says as he saunters out of the room, making Blaine's stomach flutter.