Come What May
MEDICAL NOTES:
(1) pneumothorax = collapsed lung
(2) hemoptysis = coughing up blood
In his mind, he was approaching Blaine in slow motion. Most of what he had feared had come to fruition. The hope had been to endure the maltreatment and be able to walk away. Sadly, Kurt was seeing that possibility becoming less and less likely. By the time he had made it to Blaine's side, it felt like hours had passed. He couldn't endure waiting to hold him but he also dreaded that he may be too late to help.
With gentle hands on either side of Blaine's face, Kurt stroked his cheek gently. He was careful of his left eye and cheekbone for the telltale signs of physical trauma were definitely showing. A deep purple bruise encircled his eye and his cheek was puffy, indicating that Christian had most likely broken his eye socket, his cheekbone or both. He saw the stream of blood from a wound in Blaine's forehead staining his face. With the end of his sleeve, he wiped away as much blood as he could and then continued holding Blaine's face in his hands. Despite the ugliness of the injuries, he was grateful to hear him taking in breaths, even if they were painful and shallow.
"Blaine. Blaine, look at me. Open your eyes and show me you're with me."
The reaction was slow. A slight glimmer of recognition came to him in the form of a pained expression, showing only a fraction of the pain his boyfriend was now suffering. Eventually the eyelids raised to reveal the agonizing fear from his honey-colored irises.
"K...Kurt," his breathing was so erratic that words came out one at a time and often in syllables, "...Kurt..are...y...you...okay?"
The blue-eyed man forced back tears. He was devastated to see his betrothed in such a position, but it was his turn to be strong. He needed Blaine to know that he was going to make it. He nodded his head vigorously,
"Yes. I am okay. Thanks to you." when his voice began to break, he forced himself to close his eyes and regain his composure. With a gentle hand working its way through Blaine's now messy hair, Kurt took this time to quickly assess the injuries. The bruises and swelling on his face were obvious enough. Glancing at the branded skin of his chest showed that it was beginning to blister. The darkness of it suggested that the burns had gone into the deeper layers. Then his eyes stopped at the two gunshot wounds. One was near the bottom of his rib cage on his left side, the other just right of his navel. Surprisingly, he saw less blood than he expected. It was a relief for only a moment. As Kurt surveyed the scene more, he noticed a pool of blood collecting under Blaine on his right side. He bit his tongue, trying to keep calm as he reached his hand around and gently touched his boyfriend's back. When he heard Blaine gasp from the pain, he recoiled quickly, only to see his hand stained red. The bullet must have gone straight through him.
"Are you Kurt?"
He jumped when he heard the authoritative voice from behind and turned to face one of the police officers. He held his weapon, but aimed it at the floor. Kurt nodded,
"Yes. Did Garret call you?"
The police officer nodded,
"He did, sir, and he told us that you would be in trouble. I see we need medical attention."
Kurt gestured toward his boyfriend,
"He needs it more than I do. He's been shot twice. Please...please I don't know what to do…" he could feel himself starting to lose it again as he bit his lip, making sure not to show any emotion to Blaine. The cop held his hand out in front of him, trying to calm Kurt down.
"It's alright, we've got an ambulance outside. Garret mentioned that you may be injured, so we came prepared," he holstered his weapon and grabbed his radio from his shoulder to call in the paramedics. Kurt turned back to his lover who continued to do his best to breathe normally.
"Blaine, why did you do that?" Kurt asked, his forehead almost pressing against the other's. Despite is pain, Blaine was able to lift his lips into a slight smile,
"I...had a chance...to save you...so...I...took it." he shut his eyes tight indicating another wave of immense pain. After a few more labored breaths, he continued, "I'm glad that...at least...you...are...safe."
Kurt shook his head adamantly as he pressed his hands tightly around Blaine's face again,
"Oh no, no, no, Blaine. You are not saying goodbye. I told you more than once in our McKinley days that I am never saying goodbye to you. Stay with me, dammit."
Blaine smiled,
"I love it...when you're...bossy." Kurt could see Blaine's eyes beginning to close. He was growing increasingly weaker. He also noticed that his boyfriend was beginning to shiver while a thin coat of sweat covered his brow. He grabbed one of his hands and squeezed it tightly and used the other to gently tap his lover's face,
"Blaine, don't go, okay. You have to stay awake."
Suddenly Blaine's eyes went wide with horror. His breaths were now profound gasps for air. The longer he tried to breathe in, the less he seemed to be getting. Then the gasping turned into wheezing. He looked to Kurt for answers, but knew there was not much he could do to help.
"Kurt...it...it's really hard...to breathe...I...can't...get...any air…"
A collection of heavy footsteps and the sound of wheels rolling across the floor came from behind. Kurt could feel Blaine's body going limp. He started to panic as he gently slapped his lover's face,
"No, no, no! Blaine, wake up! WAKE UP!" as his pleas turned to shouts, two gentle hands touched his shoulders from behind. He could feel himself being pulled away and almost protested. When his eyes met those of the young woman in an EMT uniform, he knew it was best for him to back off. One of the police officers came up to him and helped him to his feet. They walked over to the kitchen table where Kurt took a seat and another EMT knelt down in front of him. He paid the woman no attention as his eyes were glued to Blaine.
One of them began listening to Blaine's chest with a stethoscope, lightly placing the end on either side. The young woman on his other side leaned over with her ear hovering above Blaine's mouth.
"He's wheezing heavily, but still breathing. How are the breath sounds?" she turned to her colleague. He moved the stethoscope a few more times and then shook his head at her,
"I have no sounds on the left side. Likely a pneumothorax (1). Let's start the decompression."
Kurt was dumbfounded by the speed at which they worked. He continued to watch in admiration of their expertise and bravery. The woman reached into her medical bag and pulled out something that looked like a syringe. She pulled out the plunger on the bottom and then, with her hand palpated the area of Blaine's chest just below his collarbone. Before she could do any more procedures, Blaine appeared to be coughing harshly, his torso tensing up.
To Kurt's horror, he saw dark red liquid escaping his boyfriend's lips as he coughed. While the male EMT cleaned off his face, the woman quickly stabbed the needle into Blaine's chest. As she backed off, they could all hear Blaine's breathing begin to normalize. Air escaped from the syringe, relieving the stress on Blaine's lung.
When the male EMT placed an oxygen mask over Blaine's nose and mouth, Kurt felt someone shaking him from his right side. He turned his attention from the horrific scene before him to the young paramedic who knelt beside him. She was talking, but the words were not making it to his ears. After a moment of confusion, he shook himself back to reality,
"I'm sorry. What did you say?"
Her eyes were kind and her tone was very patient,
"It's quite alright, sir. Let's get you downstairs and into the ambulance. Do you think you can walk?"
Kurt protested at first, not moving from his spot and looked her in the eye,
"I don't want to go unless I can stay with him," he turned back to the scene with Blaine, noticing that they had already dressed his wounds and placed him on a stretcher. The EMT smiled and nodded,
"That's fine, sir. Let's get you down there first and they will follow."
The back of the ambulance felt cold, but Kurt felt safer there than he had in the last few hours. He sat on the bench while the EMT continued cleaning some of his cuts. Within moments of him entering the vehicle, the other two EMTs approached with the stretcher that carried Blaine.
As it was locked in place right next to Kurt, he was thankful that he was close enough to take his boyfriend's hand. He did this without hesitation, being careful not to disturb his taped fingers or the I.V. mechanism inserted there. Blaine's shirt had been completely cut away and gauze had been securely placed over the two gunshot wounds and the burn. The syringe was taped in place while several circular monitors were attached to his torso. Kurt glanced at the metal machine on the other side of the bed, noting the zigzag line across the screen. This zigzag line gave Kurt comfort because it told him that Blaine's heart was still beating.
Once the doors were closed and the police officer pounded on the glass from outside, the ambulance pulled away from the curb with the sirens wailing. The ride to the hospital was not long, or at least Kurt didn't think so. They weren't far from a nearby county facility, which he assumed was their destination.
"It looks like I got the worst of the cuts dressed. We will check for internal injuries when we get to the hospital, okay?" the female paramedic beside him spoke clearly and patted Kurt gently on the back. "You're going to be okay."
Kurt wanted to believe her. He knew she was just trying to be nice, but he was certain he wouldn't be okay. Not after what he and Blaine had experienced. Never in his life had he been certain he was going to die. Never had he been so incredibly scared for Blaine. It all wound itself up in a giant lead ball and sunk into the pit of his stomach.
For a while the sirens had been the only noise heard inside the ambulance. Suddenly, that noise was interrupted by the frantic alarms of the machines surrounding the stretcher. The two paramedics around him began to frantically look at the monitors and check his pulse and breathing. The man placed his stethoscope on Blaine's chest in several places and then turned to his colleague, shaking his head. Kurt panicked,
"What is happening to him?" his voice was firm, but not shouting. The paramedics did not answer. Kurt watched the female EMT remove the oxygen mask only to witness copious amounts of blood seeping out from the corners of Blaine's mouth.
"We've got hemoptysis (2). I need suction and we need to intubate."
The two paramedics worked at lightning speed. The man, with a long plastic tube attached to a hose, began to suction out the inside of Blaine's mouth, removing any excess blood. Then, he reached into one of the drawers on his side of the ambulance and handed his colleague a metal instrument that looked like a smooth metal hook of some kind. With it, was a very long and wide plastic tube.
"WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING TO HIM?!" Kurt shouted.
The female EMT at the head of the stretcher turned to him,
"If you want to say something to him, I suggest you do it now. We will be putting him under so we can intubate him," she explained. Kurt was confused,
"Wait..what? What does that mean?"
The male EMT spoke up,
"It means we are going to have to help him with his breathing. We want to give you a chance to say what you need to. There's a chance he may not come out of this." The honesty of his comments hit Kurt like a ton of bricks, but he knew it was important for him to hear it straight.
Kurt leaned into the stretcher, his face hovering over Blaine's,
"I know I said I wasn't saying goodbye to you," he tried to ignore the angry sound of the alarms screaming that their patient was dying, "but I want you to know that I love you more than anything. I would live this life again and again, and I would only do it with you." Blaine looked back at him, his eyes showing that he got the message. Then, he started to fade.
The tears came in droves, dripping from his eyes and staining his cheeks. Kurt sat back on the bench and watched as the metal probe was inserted in Blaine's mouth. Shortly after, the EMT inserted the long tube and affixed a large ambu bag to the end. The male EMT began to squeeze it at regular intervals as the ambulance continued to race toward the hospital.
The rest of the ride seemed to be paralyzed in time. Kurt thought that the horrific alarms would never stop. He couldn't even bring himself to look at Blaine's face, for now it was just unrecognizable and covered in medical equipment. As the EMT continued to squeeze the bag, the alarm on the machine died down, displaying a more normal rhythm. Kurt was eternally grateful.
The ambulance came to a halt outside the emergency room of NYC Presbyterian. The back doors flew open to reveal two emergency doctors in surgical gowns. Carefully they pulled the stretcher from the ambulance, making sure not to jostle the patient. Kurt could hear the paramedics giving off the needed information to the doctors as they followed the stretcher out.
The EMT next to him helped him climb out and began to lead him to the doors of the hospital. Kurt just watched as the stretcher was rushed through the doors. The image of Blaine began to disappear as doctors surrounded the stretcher, ready to assist him. For that he was thankful.
"Let's get you checked out, okay?" The paramedic held his arm gently as they entered the doors. She brought him around the corner to the left where Kurt saw several bays of hospital beds and medical equipment ready for patients. Only a handful were occupied at the moment. One of the emergency bays, about one hundred feet straight ahead, held Blaine, where doctors transferred him quickly from the stretcher to the bed and began shouting orders at each other.
Kurt tried to watch as much as he could. He knew in the pit of his stomach that this may be the last time he saw his lover alive. The fact that he had almost stopped breathing and coughed up blood told him that Blaine was in much worse shape than he initially thought.
"Sir, let's get you all set over here." a voice came to his ear, but it sounded far away. It was laced in an eerie echo. When a hand lightly touched his shoulder, he turned to his left and was faced with one of the emergency doctors, looking at him with a concerned expression. Her mouth was moving, but he heard no words. As he saw two more doctors rush over to him from his peripheral vision, he was lost to darkness.
