Chapter Twenty-Six: Storm clouds may gather and stars may collide

Kurt peered through the kitchen door, into the living room, clutching his bear in one hand and the door with the other, watching as his father carefully carried a bowl of soup over to the woman on the couch. She was thin, with pale skin and blonde hair that lay damp from the shower she'd just taken. She smiled at his father as she took the bowl, and Kurt did the same when his father leaned down to kiss her.

The woman ate the soup delicately, listening his father speak words Kurt didn't realise he was saying. He was staring at the lady. She had bright blue eyes, the only part of her that hadn't changed, hadn't dulled, stayed alive.

Kurt wasn't scared of this woman, nor would he ever be. He was scared for her. Scared for his father. Scared for himself. He was seven and he knew that her eyes were the only part of the woman they both loved that would ever stay the same. He knew she was getting weaker, he had watched it happen. This scared him. The shadow looming over her, waiting to take her away from them.

He knew his father wouldn't be able to deal with it. He had made a decision a long time ago to look after and care for him when she could not. When she was gone. He would pick his father up, dust him off and send him on his way once more, just like he had done for Kurt when he was teaching him to ride a bike, all those times he was bullied at school, all those times he had a nightmare.

They would carry on.

They had to.

She finished her soup, thanking his father who took the bowl, carrying it back to the kitchen, smiling and smoothing a hand over Kurt's hair as he passed him. Kurt smiled back, catching his hand and squeezing it briefly. His father moved into the kitchen and Kurt crept into the living room, not wanting to disturb her.

She was still awake, smiling at him when she saw him as well, beckoning him over, holding out her arms. Kurt hurried over, dropping his bear and cuddling into her arms, resting his head on her chest, feeling her heart beating rhythmically beneath his ear, cuddling in even closer.

A year later, the beating in his mother's chest stopped.

The fluorescent lights hummed above him as he once again sat on the uncomfortable plastic chairs, staring blankly ahead of him. He didn't know how long he sat there. He felt the presence of people joining him, somebody taking his hand. He squeezed back but he didn't know why, or who it was.

All he could think about was the boy of his dreams laying just meters away…

Everyone was screaming. The crowd. The guests. Ella. Kurt didn't hear any of it, nor did he see. All he saw was Blaine, laying on the floor, staring up at him in what looked like surprise. Kurt's hand was already pressed firmly against the wound in Blaine's chest, Blaine's hand covering his, shaking.

Blaine lifted a hand, stained with red, to cup Kurt's cheek.

' You're okay' he sighed.

' Ssh, don't talk, you…I…the ambulance is coming…'

' Ambulance?'

' Ye…yeah, it'll be here soon, you're going to be fine, you have to be'

Blaine smiled, nodding, his hand slipping to rest on Kurt's chest. He glanced at it, feeling Kurt's heart beating.

' As long as you're okay, I'll be fine' he whispered. Kurt grabbed his hand, holding it tightly in his own.

' You can't say that. I…you need to be okay. We're going to university, and we're getting married, and we're having little Pavarotti and little Elizabeth, you can call them Dalton and Coffee if you want, I don't care, you just…you have to be okay' Kurt told him, tears sliding freely down his cheeks. He could hear somebody else talking to him, a person in green appearing on Blaine's other side. The paramedics. They were here. Blaine was going to be fine. They would fix him. Make him better. They had to.

They loaded Blaine onto a stretcher, wheeling him towards the ambulance. Kurt stayed at Blaine's side, clutching his hand, climbing into the back of the ambulance as well, sitting next to him.

' You're going to be okay' he kept repeating. Blaine smiled.

' As long as you're okay'

How did this happen? Kurt didn't know. He didn't see what happened. Didn't see who shot the love of his life. Didn't see who wanted to harm the most perfect boy in existence. All he knew was that he was sitting in the waiting room, staring but not seeing the white walls, waiting for news on whether Blaine was alive or…he didn't want to think about it.

He had thought he would find love in college or later, but he had found it as a junior, and now it was being taken from him. He grasp it. How could everything he had be gone in a split second? Why was the second time this was happening to him? Why Blaine?

' Kurt!'

He tore his eyes from the wall, blinking away the whiteness that had stained his vision, looking up at Michael, stood in front of him, looking down at him with a hint of anger and a hint of confusion in his eyes.

' What happened?' he asked, desperation in his voice.

Kurt opened his mouth to speak, to answer the king, but he had no words, he didn't know what had happened to this man's son.

' This guy was in the crowd, he pointed a gun at Kurt but Blaine pushed Kurt out the way' Jack explained, sat right next to Kurt. Ella was on his other side, clutching his hand in a death grip, shaking from sobs. Kurt looked at Jack, taking in his words.

' He pushed Kurt out of the way?' Michael repeated.

' Yeah, the shot hit his back' Jack explained, wiping away the tears that slipped free.

' No, he was shot in the chest. I held my hand over the wound…' Kurt gasped. Jack shook his head.

' I was watching, it went right through, that's what the paramedics said'

Kurt felt sick. He'd tried to stop the bleeding coming from Blaine's chest. He hadn't even checked for another wound. Was Blaine bleeding to death while they had been talking and he hadn't noticed? Bleeding to death because he stepped in front of the bullet meant for Kurt. He felt sick.

Before his mind caught up, he was already running down the corridor, his name being called after him, throwing himself into the nearest bathroom, regardless of the gender, rushing into the stall and promptly emptying the entrees and champagne from his stomach.

It was his fault. The man had been aiming for him. Why had Blaine gotten in the way? Why would the prince risk his life to save him? He was nothing compared to Blaine. Nothing. Nothing compared to the boy who had helped a stranger with problems that didn't concern him at all, didn't effect. The boy who stood a beacon for equality and charm and love. The boy was willing to give up everything for those…for who he loved. Blaine was a light in the dark, and Kurt had snuffed that out.

His sobs and retching drowned out the sound of someone else coming into the bathroom. A hand touched his shoulder, the person kneeling beside him, rubbing his back until he stopped throwing up, turning him and pulling him into familiar arms, continuing to rub his back and stroke his hair. Like his mother had done. He buried his face into the person's shoulder, clutching at them, sobbing.

' It's my fault' he whispered when his sobs began to subside. The person instantly pulled away, holding him by the arms and making him look at them.

' This is not your fault Kurt' Mercedes said firmly. Kurt shook his head.

' Blaine got shot because of me. He pushed me out of the way. It is my fault that he's dying' he sobbed.

' He's not dying, he's going to be fine'

' How do you know?'

' I don't. But we have to believe that he's going to be okay. Just like with your dad. If you give up then you lose' Mercedes told him, shaking him a little. Kurt stared into her eyes, gasping for breath.

' Will you pray for him for me please?' he asked in a whisper.

' Already done. You should see outside. A whole crowd has gathered. They're standing with candles, praying for Blaine to be alright' she told him. ' Why don't you do the same?'

' I don't believe in…'

' It doesn't matter if you don't believe in God Kurt, sometimes praying helps anyway. There's a chapel down the hall, why don't you go there?' she suggested, standing before taking his hands and pulling him to his feet again. She flushed the toilet for him and led him out of the stall. He nodded. ' I'll come with you. First let's clean you up a bit, okay?'

Kurt nodded again, stepping over to the sink and running the tap, looking into the mirror, gasping at his own reflection. His clothes were stained with blood, a handprint prominent on his chest, right above his heart, and looking down he could see the black material of his trousers were red from where he had knelt beside Blaine. His hand that had pressed over the wound on his chest was covered, the blood dry on his skin. His cheek bore the mark of Blaine's hand too, curving onto and under his chin where his hand had slipped to his chest; the blood had dripped down his neck, marking the white of his colour and his black lapels. He looked like he had been hurt, yet there wasn't a scratch on him.

He sobbed, reaching up a hand to touch the dried blood on his face, wincing. Mercedes silently handed him a wet towel, holding her own and turning his face to wipe off the blood as he did his hands. They couldn't do anything about his clothes.

The chapel was small, decorated red and black, with white pews all facing the small alter and a large cross. There was no form of Jesus, like Kurt had expected there to be, but there were candles burning, and as they door swung shut behind him, they blocked out the sound of the hospital outside.

His legs felt like jelly as he walked down the aisle, leaving Mercedes and sitting down in one of the pews, looking up at the cross and gnawing on his bottom lip.

' What do I do?' he asked, glancing back at his best friend, standing in aisle, looking up at the cross, her eyes were closed and her lips were moving. ' What do I say?' he whispered.

' Say what's in your heart'

' I don't know what's in my heart' he sighed, looking down at the ground. He felt rather than heard Mercedes step closer to him, touching his shoulder.

' Sing what's in your heart then'

He looked up her and she smiled reassuringly.

Leaning forward, resting his elbows onto the pew in front and clasping his hands together. He felt stupid. But Mercedes had said that this would help, why would she lie to him? So he sang the song his mother had sang in hospital.

' I don't know if You can hear me
Or if You're even there
I don't know if You would listen
To a gypsy's prayer
Yes, I know I'm just an outcast
I shouldn't speak to you
Still I see Your face and wonder...
Were You once an outcast too?'

Mercedes squeezed his shoulder encouragingly. He didn't hear the doors open.

' God help the outcasts
Hungry from birth
Show them the mercy
They don't find on earth
God help my people
We look to You still
God help the outcasts
Or nobody will'

' I ask for wealth
I ask for fame'

He looked round. His friends stood there, and so did Blaine's, and suddenly he knew he could do this.

' I ask for glory to shine on my name
I ask for love I can possess
I ask for God and His angels to bless me'

' I ask for nothing
I can get by
But I know so many
Less lucky than I
Please help my people
The poor and down trod
I thought we all were
The children of God
God help the outcasts
Children of God'

The tears began to flow again as Kurt stood from the pew with one last look at the cross at the front. He stepped into the aisle and turned to face his friends, smiling when he saw them already surrounding him. Finn stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his brother.

' We'll get through this' he said.

' Together' Wes finished.

They sat in the waiting room for hours, the sky gradually brightening outside, none of them sleeping, though Ella had curled up with her head in Jack's lap, holding Sebastian's hand. Their whole family had collected, all of Blaine's friends and those who loved him, even those who could offer small support to those who did. Piers kept his arm around Jack, having arrived at two. Michael didn't say anything; in fact he nodded in greeting and thanks to the boy as he sat down next to his son to comfort him. Michael wasn't the king in these moments, accepting the coffee from Helene with an appreciative smile, meeting Kurt's eyes when he had returned from the chapel with his friends. He was a father.

Burt had arrived before Kurt went to the bathroom, though he hadn't noticed him, and now sat with his son's head on his shoulder, holding his son like he done so many times in a hospital waiting room. It was strange that only over a month ago, he and Finn had been sat there, with Puck and with Blaine, waiting for the birth of their sister, choosing her name. Now they all waited there, to see if Blaine was alive.

' I'm sorry'

It was past six in the morning when Michael finally spoke, not to all of them, to Kurt, looking straight at the boy and seeing him for once. Kurt lifted his head.

' I never stopped to try to understand you Kurt, I just saw you as someone taking my son away from the world he was supposed to have, which I now see was just the world I wanted for him, it wasn't what he wanted. As soon as Blaine came out as well, that was it, I couldn't take it. I reacted badly, and I took it out on you when all you did was love my son' Michael said, looking Kurt throughout. Ella sat up, her and her brothers staring at their father in awe. ' I'm not saying I agree with it or I'm comfortable it, but I am sorry for how I've treated you. It was wrong of me'

Kurt stayed silent for a moment, before nodding, smiling as much as the pain in his heart would allow him to.

' Thank you sir'

Michael nodded, turning to look at Jack, still sat with Piers, frowning slightly.

' Jack' his son's name came out as a whisper at first, as if he was having trouble with the words he wanted to say, not because he didn't want to say them, but because he was finally coming to terms with how he'd treated his son. ' I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You're my son and you'll always be my son and I should have been there for you for all these years. I shouldn't have swept aside, tried to forget about you. That was wrong…I…can you ever forgive me?'

Jack looked away, at his hand tangled in Piers' on his lap, shutting his eyes for a moment.

' It's not as easy as that dad' he mumbled and Michael nodded again.

' I know it's not. I know I have to make up for years of neglect, and I'm going to try my hardest to do that. I don't care who you love, what you do, you're my son first' he said, glancing at Burt, who smiled his encouragement. ' Something I should have realised on my own a long time ago'

Jack raised his head to look at his father again, smiling.

' Okay'

The waiting room fell into a comfortable silence, Isabelle's hand finding Michael's and Piers leaning over to kiss Jack's temple. For once Michael didn't cringe, didn't look away, he watched and smiled at the affection towards his son.

Then the door opened and the doctor walked in.

' Your majesty?'

' How's Blaine?'