I'm sorry about the wait. I've had a bad case of that terrible illness – writers block – when it came to this story. I've sat here for literally hours staring at a blank word document and coming up with nothing.

Now here's this. I hope you enjoy it. These hospital chapters might be dragging but I can't gloss over his recovery, it's a long road.

Also as it goes on I'm having to speak more about Kurt's injuries and the court case. I am neither a doctor nor a lawyer (I'm a fashion journalism student, for anyone who cares) so I've had to google and ask friends in way of finding out how these things would work. If the details aren't perfect or don't always add up it's not me being sloppy, it's just I don't know a lot of stuff. Plus I'm British, so I have no idea what the legal system is like in the states or if I'm using the right terms for stuff.

That was a long authors note, wow. Sorry about that.

I DON'T OWN GLEE.

Blaine

Kurt's recovery was slow. So painfully slow. Every day was difficult, every new step he managed to achieve was like running a marathon.

His physical condition was terrible. In total six of his ribs were broken or fractured in some way, and more were bruised. There wasn't, in truth, much of his porcelain skin that wasn't covered in bruises, and it always shocked Blaine when a nurse came in to bathe him, and he had to look at his body, which pretty much looked like one big bruise in varying shades of purple, brown and yellow.

The cut on his head ran from near his hairline to just behind his ear, which was why the majority of his hair had to be shaved. The ten stitches in the cut ran in little raised ridges over his head. His nose had been broken but had been set back quickly and apart from looking a tiny bit less dead centre than before it looked ok. His face was bruised and there were various cuts where Jake had clearly scratched his face. Cuts also covered his thighs, stomach and upper arms. Blaine lost count of the amount of stitches they had to use to put Kurt back together again.

His collarbone was broken and because of the way it broke, and the damage to the rest of him causing stress and generally making Kurt's healing process ten times slower than it could have been, the surgeon had to repair the fracture surgically, rather than letting it heal with a sling and bed rest. As far as Blaine was concerned it was just one more operation, which meant more pain for Kurt to go through, more drugs, more stress.

He had never hated anyone like he hated Jake. He hated him with every fibre of his being for causing this much pain to Kurt, who never, ever deserved anything this bad to happen to him. He hated him so much sometimes he wanted to find him and hold him down and torture him until he was on his knees begging Blaine for death, begging Blaine for forgiveness. He hated him, and it scared him the amount of anger he felt towards Jake whenever he looked at Kurt. When Kurt would try to do something as simple as turn over by himself and couldn't, and then when he couldn't he'd get frustrated and he'd cry and that would cause him pain too. It seemed like there was nothing Kurt could do that wouldn't hurt him.

It wasn't just Kurt's physical condition that was in such bad shape. Mentally, Kurt was a mess. He would only let Blaine, Burt, Puck and Finn touch him, and he'd begun to only trust one or two nurses. One day a male doctor came in and tried to do his vitals and he'd had a panic attack so bad they'd had to give him yet more drugs to calm him down.

"I don't know what to do to help." Burt said desperately to the doctor the day that happened.

"Mr Hummel, Kurt was badly hurt by someone he thought he could trust. It's natural for a patient to act this way when they've been through a trauma." The doctor said gently, a hand on Burt's arm.

"What can I do to make it better?" Burt begged, as Blaine listened in the doorway, keeping one eye on a fitfully sleeping Kurt.

"I suggest a therapist. When he's out of here, which I think will be in a couple of weeks, I will give you a number for a therapist. I suggest at least weekly sessions. It sounds like a crock but I promise you talking about it will help Kurt, even if it doesn't seem like it at first. Apart from that, and giving him a strong support network, I can't suggest anything else." The doctor said, before excusing herself to see an urgent patient.

Burt sighed and turned to see Blaine hovering in the doorway. Both men had a lot on their minds. Both had had to take compassionate leave from their jobs for the time being, and while for now both of their bosses were sympathetic, that could only last so long. More so for Blaine, who's work was more erratic but also made him more replaceable. He really hoped he still had a job when he returned to work. Luckily the money he hadn't been spending on living costs recently had meant he was in no danger of losing his apartment.

He couldn't bring himself to care about any of that right now though. He knew living in a hospital, and barely sleeping or eating and hiding from everything in his life probably wasn't the way to deal with this, but he couldn't face it any other way. The only thing that mattered to him was Kurt. Once Kurt was a little better he'd begin thinking about all those other things. For now he just couldn't worry about them.

Kurt's friend visited when they could, and when Kurt was having a good day. Puck came a lot, so did Rachel. Finn was, of course, there often, as were Mercedes and Quinn. Every boy from New Directions had had to be restrained at one point or another from trying to go and start a beat down on Jake, and it did make Blaine smile half heartedly. With all these people who loved and protected Kurt, there was no way he'd get hurt again. He had to stop worrying about that.

Jake hadn't been granted bail. When they'd been told Blaine had felt like a little weight had been lifted. He knew Jake's bail conditions would have been crazily strict anyway, but the fact that he would stay locked away until the case at least made everything a little better. They could clearly see how dangerous Jake was, and that was at least something. Finally Jake wasn't fooling anyone.

The case date was set for a month later. When Kurt was told he nodded and then looked away and began to talk to Burt about something unrelated, but Blaine noticed the way his hands began to tremble. A month. It didn't seem long enough, barely gave Kurt time to recover even a little bit. A month of worrying and sleepless nights thinking about it.

Jake was up on trial for assault. In Blaine's mind it should have been attempted murder, surely? For that Jake could go down for twenty years, and it scared Blaine more and more everyday that Jake could be out in five years, or less. Five years and he could be walking the streets again and Blaine couldn't even imagine what that would feel like.

But he had to stop thinking about it. Kurt and his recovery were all that mattered. For now.

Kurt

It was hard to not be a miserable, childish, irritable brat whilst in hospital. He knew sometimes he didn't succeed, and he felt truly terrible when he snapped at the nurses, the doctors, his friends and family, especially Blaine and his dad, who were giving so much to be with him. He just couldn't help it sometimes. He'd never felt more truly helpless in his life. He hated lying in this bed unable to move without feeling a flash of pain somewhere. He despised the drugs that made him loopy, not just your basic tylenol for the pain but a myriad of other drugs that were being dripped into him on a regular basis making him feel crazy and snappy and drowsy and unlike himself. The person he was when he was drugged certainly wasn't the Kurt Hummel he'd always known, and it scared him senseless.

He hated feeling scared all the time. He knew he was in prison, NOT granted bail (finally some good news) locked up, he couldn't get to Kurt, or Blaine. But every night when Kurt closed his eyes all he could see was his face, hitting him or hitting Blaine. The only good thing was that when he woke up his blood running cold with fear, Blaine would always be there, hands entwined.

He also wished the pain would just go away. His shoulders and upper chest still hurt when he moved suddenly, his rib cage was by far the most painful area, so much so that on a bad day even breathing heavily would cause tears to prick in his eyes. Everything hurt, everything was so fucking sensitive. He was bored of being treated like a china doll, but it was difficult to complain when he felt like one.

Sometimes it was hard to see anything clearly. Through the drugs and the pain he didn't know what to do, so mostly he slept and held Blaine's hand and had easy conversations with his dad and Blaine and Finn and Mercedes and Puck. Conversations that mostly weren't about court cases or abusive boyfriends or broken ribs. It was all painfully hanging over them every second of every day anyway, why bring it into every conversation?

But through everything, through all the feelings of sadness and depression that plagued him while lying in his hospital bed, he could feel a slither of hope in his heart. It was barely anything, a chink of light through a doorway, a small feeling of lightness, but it kept him holding on.

That hope was Blaine. The fact that after everything terrible that happened, they had been brought together after so many years apart, and found out they were two halves of a whole, two people who were meant to be together.

Because Kurt didn't doubt that. He didn't doubt that Blaine Anderson was his other half. How could he not be? They'd both been so willing to sacrifice everything for each other, and now Blaine was here every day and every night just to make sure he felt safe.

Kurt was broken, and it would take a long time before he felt ok again. But he had this wonderful man by his side, this man who despite everything had never, ever given up on Kurt. He also had an amazing family and a group of friends who were willing to protect him no matter what.

So when Kurt found himself sinking into the darkness while his ribs were aching and his head felt dizzy because of the drugs, and fear clasped his heart like a cold hand, he just had to think of those things, and it would pull him up just a little.

Everyone needs a little hope.