Warning: There are mentions of (non-graphic) non con and also mentions of suicide attempts/self-harm.

A/N: I don't know what to say except thank you for your patience. When I wrote that cliff-hanger I did not expect it to last this long. Of course I also didn't expect to have to send my computer out for two weeks to get fixed, but that's only one of the reasons this took so long. Anyway it's up now so I hope you forgive me.

Chapter 36 – Who You Are

Bleary and disgruntled when Blaine first took in the silhouette of a man in his room he had to fight back a yelp until the blurry edges sharpened and he recognized the young man in his room as the person he'd been wishing to see most. "Kurt? What? I thought you weren't supposed to get here for another two days?" He moved to outstretch his arms for the expected hug, only to stop when an itching pain reminded him that Kurt would clearly see the new bandages on his right forearm.

Kurt stared at him for a long moment not moving forward, his eyes red and watery, "Your mother called me and told me what you did. I needed to see you and since your parents noticed you seem to feel safer when I'm around they said it'd probably be alright if I came in here to see you. I needed to see you Blaine. I needed to see you were alright. Blaine… Did you really think I wouldn't drop everything and come back here? Blaine I- did you stop to think that maybe I couldn't survive losing you again?"

"I didn't stop to think," Blaine whispered with a little shrug. He sank deeper into the bed, hot shame burning at his stomach. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Kurt just shook his head and ran a hand through his hair before hesitantly stepping forward to sit on the bed next to where he was lying before offering up his hand. "I thought I might die. I- it felt like my heart stopped beating until I saw for myself you were okay."

"I am okay, see?" He used his better arm to push himself to a sitting position rather than taking Kurt's.

Kurt just shook his head, carefully reaching his arm in a long slow gesture around Blaine's shoulders to squeeze him gently. "No you're not."

"Yeah okay," he admitted after a moment. "I'm not, but you can hug me harder if you want to. I won't break, not if it's you."

It was as if those were the very words his boyfriend (he still rejoiced a little inwardly at once again being able to refer to him that way) needed. Kurt's arms flew around him, dragged him gently close and held tightly. The other boy's face ducked down and burrowed into the dip in his shoulder while fingers clutched desperately at the back of his shirt, knowing better than to clutch at his bruised skin.

"How did you get here so fast? What about your stuff?" Blaine asked quietly when they drew back a little. He tried to blink a little of the sleep out of his eyes as Kurt answered.

"I didn't get here so fast. You've been asleep for twelve hours honey. I just packed a bag and hopped on the first flight I could find. Finn and Rachel promised to finish packing the rest of my belongings and see it off in the moving truck on Wednesday. I have enough for now, so here I am." Kurt's arms tightened, bringing him back a little closer to him. "I promised you I was only a phone call away and I meant it, even if you're not the one who called."

He made to move his arm to reach for the hand, only to stop in the middle with a grunt. The limb felt hot and heavy and hurt to move. Blaine let out a grimace at the thought of making another attempt to grab Kurt's hand or trying with the other, but the young man he'd fallen in love with as a boy just shifted closer to him and placed his hand over his, making it easier for him to curl his fingers around it.

"I'm sorry, you know," Blaine murmured.

"For trying to kill yourself?" The incredulity in Kurt's voice seemed incredulous in itself; there was such concern aimed his way. "Honey, you don't have to be sorry. I'm not angry with you and neither are your parents. We're just worried and scared. I don't want to lose you again."

"You won't-"

Lines of pain were creasing Kurt's young visage; "How can you say that when last night I nearly did?"

"It's not going to happen again-"

"Until when?" There was no accusation in his tone, just the soft questions, "Until you get overwhelmed again? Until someone insults you? You didn't think it was going to happen a first time so how can I believe you when you say it won't happen a second?" Kurt shook his head sadly.

"It has to get better, right?" The hoarseness in his voice got worse. "It gets better?"

"I'll make sure of it." Kurt's head dipped slowly to press a loving, chaste kiss against his mouth, being careful to kiss only the side without stitches. "I love you and I'll help you in whatever way you need okay?"

Right, Kurt loved him. It wasn't that he forgot really. It was more of a incomprehension. What was it inside this broken, battered boy that Kurt held so dearly? Did Kurt think the old Blaine was hiding in there somewhere? He wasn't sure he was. He was almost certain he wasn't. He was new; changed; different;

Damaged.

Whatever it was keeping Kurt at his side he clung to it, too paranoid at what the answer might be if he questioned it to really ask. He pressed closer into their embrace. "My parents are making me go see a therapist today-"

"Good." The word was tight, like it was holding back a waterfall of others. He wanted desperately for the dam to break; to hear the words whether they be angry or miserable in the chance they might make him feel it- the love that was layered underneath it all.

He didn't though. He had no doubt in his mind that it would cause Kurt pain. Instead he just said, "I know. I'm not arguing." He let out a pained smile. "I just thought, maybe if you weren't busy you'd come with my mom and I… just this first time?"

"I'll be there, and any other time you want me, okay?" He was practically drawn into the other boy's lap as Kurt clung to him. "I'll be wherever you want me to be, as long as you never leave me again. I can't lose you again Blaine, I can't. You don't know what it did to me. It was like someone drove their hand into my chest and ripped my heart out. I know you went through so much more, but please," the words were high and wet, "don't leave me again."

He could tell it was there. He could see the love, concern and Kurt was showering him with in the other boy's gestures and expression, but it was still so muted. He was numb; not to the knowledge of it but the feeling.

"Okay," he murmured softly. "I won't."

It seemed impossible to hold himself still in the waiting room of the office Dr. Francis worked out of. It had a relaxing enough atmosphere with its warm brown walls and leafy green plants, but still his heart was beating hard in anxious apprehension. He was going to have to talk about it.

Just the mere thought made his body shudder.

"It's going to be okay," Kurt murmured to him quietly, reaching over to squeeze his hand gently.

"Do you want to read a magazine or something Sweetheart?" His mother asked as her hand patted his shaking knee. "It might take your mind off things for a while."

"I'm just nervous. It's okay. I'm okay," he lied blatantly in a soft voice. He knew he wasn't fooling either of them but hoped that they'd drop it anyway.

Most of all he wanted them to believe him. He couldn't get it out of his head. He could barely remember what happened after his parents had broken down the bathroom door and before he'd woken up in his bed, but he did remember the Kurt from this morning; terrified and teary eyed with worry. That had been his fault.

"Blaine Anderson?" It was almost like he was saved from their worries as a woman a little younger than his mother called his name. Except quickly he realized this was the same woman he had to tell about the things he'd been forced to do.

"Do you want me to come with you, just at first?" His mother's voice was thoroughly laced with concern.

He turned his head to look at her, his eyes a little wide. "I think I'll be okay if you wait here," the words came out shakily. Talking about what Pierre did to him was scary, but the thought of doing it in front of his mother was downright terrifying. She didn't need to know the details. He wished he didn't.

He was sure the sounds were plaguing Kurt's mind too. He could see it in the way the other boy kept going to reach for his earbuds every time things went silent, before stopping and trying to give him a falsely encouraging smile instead.

Kurt had heard everything, had almost suffered the same, and was pretending badly to most of the world that he hadn't. The stiff, unsure, pained body posture and the oddly haunted glimmer in his light eyes gave it away.

After two years of seeing a similar look in the mirror it wasn't hard to see.

"Okay Sweetie," his mother's smile was warm as she interrupted his thoughts.

Right, the woman had called his name. He stood from the cushioned vinyl chair, his right arm secured in a sling that they'd picked up from the pharmacy against his chest, considering how hot and heavy it felt. It was another one of those things he was going to have to talk about "for his own good". He hated the saying.

He walked towards the woman who'd called his name, noticing with a little apprehension that it was only his first visit and she was already holding a thick manila file folder with his name on it.

"Blaine, it's nice to meet you." She smiled warmly at him and extended a hand for a moment, before dropping it at the slightly alarmed look that had to have come into his eyes when his body seemed to freeze. As soon as her hand dropped, his body seemed to decide to work again. "Why don't you come in and have a seat?"

He sank into the black leather armchair (the difference between the waiting room chairs and office chairs was immense) and rested his fidgeting hand in his lap.

The woman gave him a calming smile, "Well as you might've guessed I'm Dr. Francis, but if you like you can call me Jo and I hope you don't mind if I call you Blaine. I think it would be best if we're on a first name basis, but we can work up to that if you'd like."

"No, it's fine." He shrugged his shoulders a little bit as his eyes looked longingly at the door. There were a hundred things he'd rather be doing, like catching up with Kurt. "I-" he started after a quiet moment. Even if he didn't want to be here he knew it was expected of him to make an effort. "I don't know where I'm supposed to start."

"We can spend a few minutes getting to know each other?" She suggested helpfully. "If you like I can start and if you feel more comfortable after you can tell me a little bit about yourself?"

"I don't see why," he mumbled, his eyes locking on the thick file she'd since placed on the desk before sitting on the armchair a few feet across from him. "Everything's probably in there. You know what happened."

"All that's in there is the facts. It's what happened. It's not going to tell me who you are. You're more than what happened to you." Dr. Jo Francis stopped to pause for a moment, "What happened to you isn't who you are Blaine. There's a lot more to it than that."

He frowned and chewed on his lower lip. "Can we not talk about it yet, please?"

She gave him another warm smile and nodded her head. "I did say I'd tell you about myself a little. Well my name is Joanne and I grew up in Columbus. I've two children of my own and a wonderful sister. As for this, I've been working with teens and specializing in sexual trauma for ten years. Before that I was working with young adults eighteen to twenty-four."

"I'm not a kid anymore," he commented quietly. "Those years were stolen."

"Yes they were," she agreed quietly, "and maybe you're not a child anymore, but the abuse started when you were and has only stopped recently."

"You really think I'm still a kid because I was kidnapped? Time didn't stand still. The world didn't stop turning. Everyone moved on." The words were so bitter it nearly surprised him, but Jo didn't seem to even flinch.

"Except for you," The psychiatrist was frank but not unkind. "Your world did stop turning. You didn't experience the typical life events of a teenage boy reaching adulthood because you were unable to. Emotionally that can cause developmental delays, especially if the abuser demands that his victim to act the same day in and out for years. I'm not going to say you're still emotionally a teenager because I don't know that yet, but there are some indicators so it's a possibility and one worth exploring. However the reason you were referred to me was partially due to that possibility and in addition to my past as a counselor to young adults."

"Oh," he looked round the office instead of continuing his reply, taking in the rainbow flag sticker on the door that declared the office an LGBT safe space. "Well um, you said you wanted to know me, right?"

"In order to figure out how to best help you, yes," she told him gently.

"Well I'm gay, was that in the file?" He asked, a little curious, as well as oddly nervous. How exactly had the police and medical reports coloured him? He still remembered the one officer- the one who'd handcuffed him in the hospital and sent him into horrifically vivid hallucinations of Pierre. He wasn't about to forget him either.

"It wasn't stated outright," she told him, her voice honest. "However I was able to guess after reading the police report, particularly your statement and the way you wrote about Kurt Hummel." She paused momentarily. "However I'm glad you told me. I wouldn't have known for sure otherwise."

"Umm, you're welcome I guess," he mumbled.

"Why don't you tell me a little more? Whatever you're comfortable with, okay? It doesn't have to be about the kidnapping if you don't want it to."

"I used to love to sing," he uttered out quietly. The words came out almost without thinking, spilling out faster as he went on, "It was my favourite thing. I was even tinkering with song writing, but I feel like I've lost it. It was like nothing else mattered once I was onstage, but it's not like that anymore. I open my mouth and the words won't come out and it's killing me. Why can't I have control over this one little thing? It's supposed to be over and I still don't have any control over my body. I can't even do the only thing that used to make me the happiest… all because Pierre hated it."

The doctor's eyes visibly became extra interested at the mention of Pierre. "Do you feel comfortable telling me a little more about that?"

"He hated anything that made me happy, or me," Blaine told her before he even realized it. He hadn't expected the words to just come tumbling out of his mouth, but they did. "I learned pretty quickly that if I sung in the shower I'd be interrupted. Any other time he'd just hit me. I could handle that though, he hit me all the time. I guess- I guess he realized that- uh- interruptions worked better. After a while I just couldn't make myself sing, even when he was gone."

"Blaine what happened to you was horrific and wrong. It's understandable if you feel afraid to be yourself because you were treated like an object for so long. Was that what you were trying to say?" Jo's voice was gentle and a little cautious as she put exactly how he was feeling into words; like he'd been the toy of an overgrown, destructive toddler.

He nodded his head, feeling a little embarrassed at how easily and how quickly the tears had come to invade his eyes. "Yes. He- I never really realized it but that's how I felt; like a toy or a pet or something. I still kind of feel like that, like I'm waiting for him to come back for me. I don't even feel like me anymore. After two years of being nothing I don't know how I'm supposed to be now. And now you want me to tell you about myself and I don't know anymore. I never had any options and now all I hear is 'What do you want for dinner?' or 'What do you want to watch?' or 'What kind of clothes should I get you?' and I just don't know. They just don't seem to realize how much it's all stressing me out. It's this huge change and I know they're just trying to give me back what I wasn't allowed before but it's like I'm being bombarded. It's like I was actually relieved I was told I had to do this- just so I wouldn't have to stress over a decision- is that weird?"

"It sounds to me like you need some time to adjust," she used the same gentle voice that seemed to be infused with genuine concern. "Your body and mind went into survival mode. You did what you had to in order to survive and he took advantage of it. He used human nature against you and that's not your fault. It also makes all of this," she made a vague gesture in the air with her hand, "very difficult. You're right; this is a big change for you. Have you tried discussing that with your family? I'm sure they'd understand where you're coming from."

"I'm not really used to standing up for myself either," he mumbled. "A part of me is still afraid. It's a big part."

"If you like we can schedule a family session and with your permission I can help you discuss it with them in a neutral, safe space?" The suggestion was made softly. "Sometimes it's easier when you have someone there to guide the conversation and help explain when things get tough."

He nodded his head reluctantly.

"Now Blaine I think I'd like to ask you about your arm. The medical report I requested from Lennox Hill doesn't say anything about a sling being necessary." The tone wasn't accusatory, but it was knowing and still so sympathetic.

Redness flooded his face, saturating his cheeks. "I- it's not too necessary, just really sore."

"Is that all there is to it?" She questioned again in the same neutral, calm voice.

"I-um- overheard my dad say something and I got really upset. I thought it would be better. For so long I thought the only way I was getting away from him was if he killed me. I just- it hurt and I cut myself. I didn't really mean it, or want to, but it felt like the only way…" he paused, bowing his head a little. "My parent's stopped me."

"I'm glad they did. No matter how much it hurts, that's not the only way to stop it. It's the worst way. Can you imagine how much that would have hurt your friends and family to lose you again so soon; to have lost you at all?" The doctor asked him, not unkindly.

"I know. I know, kind of. It's just- then- I didn't think losing me would hurt them as much as being around me might. I know that my pain hurts them," he whispered, guilt chewing at his insides.

Jo seemed to take all this in, "You said your father was the stressor? Can you explain?"

"I overheard him talking to my mother. I guess he tried to have a drink because seeing me made him want it. When he thought I was dead he started drinking heavily I guess, but he was getting better. As soon as I came home he wanted to drink again. I was hurting him and- and- it felt like they'd be better off… I know it's not really true, but I can't help but think it."

"Blaine I feel like you're holding something back here."

"I heard him say he thought it might've been better if I'd actually died when everyone thought I did. It was only because then I wouldn't have suffered an extra two years, but- I felt so worthless and unwanted and it was like all that was confirmed. My own father didn't want me back. At least that's what it felt like."

"So after two years of struggling to stay alive you decided to try to kill yourself?" Jo asked him.

"No," he shook his head. "After a year of being too afraid to kill myself I finally tried again. Last time it was Pierre that stopped me… on my eighteenth birthday." More tears slid down his cheeks like two minuscule rivers. "I'd had enough. I tried to hang myself but he caught me and he said if I ever tried again, or succeeded, he'd take Brianna to replace me. Brianna's my sister, you know; my little sister. I couldn't lose her- I couldn't, so I couldn't do anything. Now he's dead, Brianna's safe and I- it was an option again. Life- it was something I finally had some control over. I could choose when I would die- but I guess I couldn't do that either."

"That isn't real control over yourself, Blaine. That's letting your emotions and the memory of a man who terrorized you, control you." The reminder was sympathetic. "Real control is going to take time, hard work, and guidance. That's something we can work on here, if you'd like? It'll start small, but with time we can work our way up to the bigger stuff."

"It's not like I gave it away. It was stolen. I just- I want it back now."

"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that Blaine," Jo spoke very calmly. "You have to reclaim what was taken from you and it's not going to be easy. Hard work is part of the equation-"

"But I'm tired of it! Everything is hard work!" His voice rose. "Talking about it, just here like this, is hard work. Just trying to sleep is hard work because I know as soon as I close my eyes he'll be waiting for me. That doesn't even begin to take into account what he made me do before. Even though he'd force me to stay up until one or two in the morning I used to get up at six to make him coffee and breakfast so it'd be ready when he woke up. If it wasn't he'd beat the crap out of me. Usually afterwards, the breakfast I mean, or sometimes before if he wanted to 'work up an appetite', he'd make me sleep with him-"

"He'd rape you." It was merely a correction.

"He'd rape me," he amended, his timber and volume of his voice dropping already. His anger was already draining away to something much more wretched and miserable. "Then I'd clean. Then there was lunch and after that most days he'd rape me again. All I ever did was clean or work or try to please him and it was so hard. It was hard work and you know nothing ever came of it. He'd still hit me and he'd still rape me. Kurt was there for a bit, but he doesn't know the half of it. Pierre was positively tame towards me while Kurt was there. It only happened maybe once a day that week, sometimes a little more then, but before?" He swallowed the huge lump in his throat. "I don't know why. All I know is I'm tired. I'm exhausted. I don't want more hard work. I just want sleep."

There was a moment of heavy silence while Jo seemed to digest his words, before regarding him with a mixture of concern and sympathy.

"This isn't hard work for nothing Blaine. This is hard work that's going to help you learn to live in the world again- to feel some genuine control over your life and your body- to truly 'get out'." Jo looked at him seriously. "Can you look me in the eye and tell me you feel like you're out from under Pierre's thumb?"

With a slow movement he looked up and forced his eyes to look at the warm brown ones she'd fixed on him. He shook his head. "Honestly, no. I still don't feel safe. I still feel like he's going to come back for me."

"Would you like to try? Would you put in the work if making that feeling go away or happen much less often was a possibility?" She asked him in the same serious tone.

His voice shook tightly, "I think I'd do anything."

A/N: Well there you have it. I'm hoping for chapter 37 to have a bit more on how Kurt's dealing with things. We've seen a bit through Blaine's eyes, but I want to dig into Kurt's brain a little more too. Of course a few of the coming chapters are going to be a bit more plot driven, whereas this one was most just character driven, but Blaine really needed his therapy session after what happened in the last chapter.

Also for those of you who may (or may not I don't know) get impatient with me and my slower than usual updates, I announce when I'm updating as soon as I know on my twitter. The handle's the same as my penname here.

Anyway I appreciate your reviews so much, so please leave me some .