Love is a Battlefield
It was morning. At least, that's what Kurt could tell as his awareness returned. Instead of blackness in all corners of his vision, he could now pick up a hint of light. His senses came back to him slowly. The first thing he noticed, other than the light behind his eyelids was the plethora of sounds. There was a collection of muffled voices engaged in conversation. Amidst the chatter, he could hear a soft beeping somewhere near him.
The softness of bed sheets covered his body up to his chest. He could feel the warmth of the bed under his legs and back as he took in a relaxing breath. What was that? It felt like there were straws in his nose. That was weird. As soon as he noticed it, he lost interest. His body was in a euphoric haze. That was until the images of the last few hours came flooding back to his memory. Knives, fists punching, feet kicking...blood.
His eyes flew open and he immediately took in the scene of the hospital room before him. The beeping increased its speed as his breathing came in quick, panicked gasps. Where the hell was he? What was going on?
"Kurt! Kurt, calm down, son. It's okay." He felt a gentle hand on his left arm and turned his gaze in that direction. The familiar image of the NYADA cap and t-shirt suddenly made him feel much calmer. With his hand on his chest, he focused on his breathing until it slowed to a normal pace. When he didn't feel his heart pounding against his hand, he leaned back against the pillows.
"Dad," his father was only inches away, his face riddled with worry. Kurt could tell from the redness of his eyes that he had been crying. Trembling fingers graced his father's cheek and Kurt confirmed that he was real. Instantly, he had his father in a tight embrace, pushing past the dull aches in his ribs. Burt Hummel hugged his child close to his body, wanting to protect him from any more harm. Burying his face in the crook of his son's neck, he wept,
"I was so damn scared, Kurt. When I heard the doctor's voice on the other end of the phone, I thought the worst had happened. I thought, 'No, please, no.' First Finn and now you? This couldn't be happening."
Kurt turned his head to the right and kissed his father on the side of the head. They broke from the hug and Kurt eased back against the pillows, still holding onto his father's hand.
"I'm here, dad. I'm alive, and I'm okay."
Burt shook his head and wiped the tears from his face,
"Well, you don't look okay. You're all beat up and covered in bandages." He pointed to the medical apparel gracing Kurt's body. Kurt took a moment to examine himself. His chest was covered in several adhesive bandages which hid the cuts in his skin. An I.V. was inserted in his right hand and held in place with white medical tape. His eyes followed the tube from his hand to the clear plastic bag hanging at the side of his bed. That's when he noticed the strange sensation in his nose again. He brought his hand to his face and felt the nasal cannula on his cheeks and behind his ears. When his fingers started to grab at it and pull it off, Burt reached out to stop him,
"No, Kurt. It's there to help you relax."
Kurt shook his head,
"I don't need it." he ripped it from his face and tossed it in his lap. He saw his father's shoulders slump in frustration,
"Nevermind, I was wrong. You are just fine because you're still a stubborn little shit."
They sat in silence for a moment, staring at each other. Kurt feigned offense and then, after his jaw jokingly dropped, he and his father shared a laugh. It was short lived, however, as Kurt wrapped his arms around his torso and winced. He held his hand toward his dad, preventing him from trying to fix it.
"What time is it, anyway?" Kurt inquired. A quick glance at his watch and Burt responded,
"About 8 A.M. You've been out for more than twelve hours, son. That was a record that I didn't think even you could beat." Kurt returned the sarcasm by childishly sticking out his tongue.
The door to the room opened and a doctor entered in his pristine white coat. He carried a large tan envelope in his hand. A woman walked in behind him in a fancy business suit. The doctor walked up to the bed and held his hand out for Kurt,
"Good morning, Kurt. I'm Dr. Nyugen and I will be taking care of you while you're here. This," he motioned toward the woman who also approached the bed and shook Kurt's hand, "this is Mrs. Hansen. She is one of our administrators."
She held a clipboard in her hand and smiled at him, her eyes beaming happily from behind her thick framed glasses. Dr. Nyugen turned to Burt and introduced himself, followed by Mrs. Hansen. He pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down, adjusting his coat as he did so. Kurt had only just met this man, but he immediately trusted him. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because his voice was so soothing. He looked like any other doctor he had ever met, but there was something about his demeanor that calmed him.
"How are you feeling this morning, Kurt?" Dr. Nyugen looked at Kurt with his dark brown eyes. There was no judgement in them, only understanding. Kurt shrugged,
"Physically, I guess I'm alright."
The doctor stood, took the nasal tube off of Kurt's lap and hung it on the hook next to the bed. He sat back down and nodded,
"How is your pain on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being none, 10 being the worst you've ever felt?"
"Maybe a 6?" Kurt was unsure how to answer that. Physically, the pain was manageable. Mentally, he felt like he might die.
"How is your head? Do you feel dizzy at all?" Kurt shook his head. Dr. Nyugen leaned in closer to the bed and removed a pen light from the pocket of his lab coat. He motioned for Kurt to look him in the eyes as he quickly flashed it in front of each of his pupils. When he looked satisfied with what he saw, he returned it to his pocket. "Your pupils are reacting well, so that's a good sign."
"What were his injuries, doctor?" Burt asked from the other side of the bed. The doctor was happy to explain as he faced Kurt,
"Well, the majority of the injuries were superficial cuts to your skin. Then, there's the pretty nasty burn on your chest. That one was a third degree burn, so we will make sure to keep changing the dressing and applying antibiotics. Lastly, you had a mild concussion. Do you remember fainting?"
Kurt searched his brain for the memory and was unsuccessful. He shrugged,
"No. I just remember only caring about Blaine. Can you tell me how he is?"
"Well, to conclude with your condition, I wanted to tell you that we are just going to keep you here one more day for observation to make sure there isn't anything we may have missed. Otherwise, you should make a full recovery. Just keep us updated on your pain so we can help you feel more comfortable, okay?" When Kurt nodded in response, the doctor turned toward the woman.
Mrs. Hansen stepped forward with her clipboard. She looked at the doctor who indicated she should continue.
"Kurt, is this your name on this form?" she held out the clipboard so Kurt could see it. In the middle of all the complicated formatting were two lines. One had Kurt's signature and the other contained Blaine's. He paused for a moment because he didn't remember signing anything official with Blaine present. However, there was his name written out exactly as he would have. He made sure to hide his confusion to not bring further attention to the matter. When he nodded, Mrs. Hansen continued, "So do you agree to make medical decisions for Mr. Blaine Anderson as his medical proxy?"
His heart jumped into his throat. What? When was he made Blaine's medical proxy? He never agreed to or signed any forms. He was certain Blaine must have forged the entire thing. He made eye contact with Mrs. Hansen and nodded confidently.
"Is there something wrong? Do you need me to make a decision right now?"
"We may have to remove his spleen and we need you to authorize it, if you feel comfortable."
Kurt looked unsure of what she said,
"And if I don't feel comfortable?" he inquired.
"We would have to wait for his family to arrive to authorize it. We contacted them and they are not able to get in until tomorrow."
It made sense, but he also knew that Blaine wasn't as close to his family as Kurt was to his. It wasn't that they didn't love him. They just didn't always understand him and also lived in their own little worlds. Between Cooper, Pam and himself, he knew he was the best to do the job. He knew Blaine more than anyone else. Without hesitation, he held his hand out,
"Where's the form you need signed? I trust you guys and I authorize you to do anything you think needs to be done to save his life."
The clipboard was set in his hand and he promptly signed it and handed it back to Mrs. Hansen. She nodded and took it back from him, a look of satisfaction on her face.
"Thank you, Kurt. I will go inform the surgeons so they can begin the procedure. They have him all prepped and just needed the okay to start. Take it easy and I will talk to you again later." Mrs. Hansen disappeared out the door.
Kurt turned to Dr. Nyugen with desperate, pleading eyes. He shifted in his chair and his mouth curled up into an awkward smile,
"You want to know how Blaine is doing?"
Kurt nodded. The doctor stood from his chair and walked to the other side of the room where an x-ray light hung on the wall. From the envelope, he produced three different x-rays and clipped them to the machine. When he flipped the switch, Kurt and his father were faced with images of someone's rib cage, pelvis and hand. Dr. Nyugen clasped his hands together, resembling someone about to give a moving lecture. He pointed to the first x-ray,
"So, this is an image of Blaine's thoracic region, and that's just the region of your rib cage and all the organs protected by them. If you look here," he pointed to the right hand side of the image, near the bottom of the rib cage. Kurt could see a large white smudge there, "this is near the 7th and 8th ribs. The bullet entered right between these two ribs and caused a fracture to both of them. That's not what I'm really concerned about. What concerns me is this," his finger made circular motions around the white smudge, "this is a collection of fluid around his lung."
Kurt interrupted him, "Is that why he was coughing up blood?" he asked. The doctor nodded,
"It certainly is. It looks like some bullet fragments lodged in his lung, which caused the pneumothorax, which is a collapsed lung. So, to treat that, we have inserted a chest tube to drain the excess fluid in order for his lung to have time to heal. We also have him on a ventilator because, unfortunately, the pneumothorax has caused his oxygen levels to drop to the low 80s. We need it at least in the high 90s. Our hope is that the ventilator will help raise those levels and allow his lung time to heal."
"How long will he be on the ventilator?" Burt asked.
"Well, we will check his oxygen levels regularly. The machine will tell us how he is doing because it monitors his oxygen levels and alerts us accordingly. If we notice that he is needing less help, we can take him off. A pneumothorax usually heals in a couple weeks, but he doesn't necessarily need assistance for the whole time. My hope is to get him off by the middle of next week. We are hoping to take the chest tube out in the next day or so."
Kurt rubbed his arms and looked down at his lap. He took a deep breath and looked back up at the doctor, indicating that he could continue.
"What else?" he asked.
Dr. Nyugen moved to the next part of the x-ray, near the lung,
"Tucked between his lung and his stomach here is his spleen. Now, the bullet did a lot more damage to this organ and tore it to shreds. So, the best option is to remove it. I know that sounds scary, but you can live without your spleen."
The doctor turned to his patient and his visitor, taking their silence as a signal to move to the next x-ray. This one showed Blaine's abdomen and pelvis. The doctor pointed to an area close to the spine,
"Now, this bullet was a through and through. This just means that the bullet penetrated his body and exited his back. In this area, his bowel was perforated and we had to repair it. So far, we are hopeful and feel that the repair was done effectively. The only thing I am worried about is the possibility of sepsis. Since the contents of his bowel have spilled into his bloodstream, he is at risk for a serious blood infection. As of now, he has a low grade fever, so we will watch it closely. When he's off the ventilator, he'll have to be on a liquid diet while it heals."
Burt turned to his son and took his hand. They both squeezed tightly and looked at each other, giving one another courage to continue listening.
"Now, if you see here, the bullet exited very near his spine…"
Kurt gasped, covering his mouth with dread,
"Oh my God, please don't tell me…" he didn't finish before the doctor stopped him,
"Don't worry, Kurt, it did not do any spinal cord damage," he heard Kurt give a sigh of relief, "but, he may experience some weakness in his legs from the swelling. He will definitely need some PT to bring his strength back."
Finally, Dr. Nyugen moved to the last x-ray of Blaine's hand. Kurt didn't really need to know what the x-ray said and he waved his hands in front of him, signaling the doctor to stop,
"I know what happened to his fingers. Those bastards broke them because I didn't do what they said," his voice broke as tears welled in his eyes. The doctor turned off the x-ray light and approached the bed shaking his head,
"Kurt, nothing that happened to Blaine is your fault. It was the action of several sick people and you should not feel responsible for this."
He and Burt watched the young man as he took his time collecting himself. The doctor helped guide him through some breathing exercises and helped Kurt to feel somewhat normal again. He rubbed his arms again, in an attempt to soothe himself. He looked the doctor dead in the eyes,
"What do you think, Dr. Nyugen? Please be honest with me about this. Do you think Blaine will recover?"
The doctor looked at the floor and folded his hands.
"I am going to be completely honest with you and say I can't guarantee anything," Kurt's body slouched, showing defeat, but the doctor continued, "however, because he is young, in excellent physical shape and has no underlying conditions, I am very optimistic. I'm not going to lie, his injuries are serious and he is still in critical condition. But, with time, I can see him coming out of this fully recovered. That is my honest opinion."
Those were the words Kurt needed to hear. For once in several hours, he felt he could smile. He understood completely that the doctor couldn't guarantee the worst wouldn't occur and cause Blaine to go in the opposite direction. But hearing those words brought him the hope that he was waiting for. There was one more matter on his mind,
"I'm also worried about another thing. Blaine is a performer. It is his life and he's really good at it. What are the chances that he could go back to that like nothing happened? I would just hate to see him lose that. It would kill him."
Dr. Nyugen's eyes reflected understanding and empathy. He nodded,
"I understand your concern. Like I said, since he is in good shape, if his recovery and PT goes well, he could go right back to performing like he was never injured. However, there is always the chance that his lung doesn't heal and he will rely on oxygen for the rest of his life. I think we should wait and see how the lung healing goes. Then I can give you a more definite answer."
The amount of information going into Kurt's mind was overwhelming. Just contemplating the last several hours was already exhausting. Now he had to mentally sift through yet another laundry list of mental burdens. A single tear fell from one of his eyes and demonstrated for the doctor that Kurt was trying his hardest to hold it together, but slowly failing. Thankfully, he took that subtlety that his patient needed time alone and stood from his chair. The walk into the room seemed urgent and hopeful. Kurt couldn't help but notice that the change in Dr. Nyugen's step was now somewhat defeated and somber.
Before he walked out, he stood by the door, holding it open with one hand and turned back to his patient.
"I will come inform you when Blaine is out of surgery. I will check in on him from time to time and let you know if anything happens. For now, just try to take it easy. You have been through a lot. I recognize that look of selfless courage in your eyes, Kurt. I know you are trying to keep it together for your dad and your fiance. But don't feel like you can't take care of yourself right now, okay?"
When he received recognition from Kurt, he disappeared into the hallway. Kurt stared at the same spot on the sheets for what seemed like hours. Even after seeing his father take his hand from his peripheral vision, he did not move. Everything that had just been explained to him was being placed in his mental filing cabinet. A filing cabinet that held what he considered useful information, but something he just couldn't deal with right now.
He and Burt could hear a somewhat forceful conversation occurring outside the door. Since the voices were so near his room, he assumed it had to do with him. Shortly after the conversation started, the door opened and Dr. Nyugen appeared again, looking displeased.
"Kurt, there are two FBI agents here who would like to talk to you. Do you feel comfortable doing that right now, or would you rather wait?"
Without moving his gaze from the spot on the sheets, Kurt indicated his agreement with a slight nod. The tapping of heels on the floor signaled that he had to mentally prepare for another taxing conversation. Shifting his eyes from the bed to the floor showed him two pairs of fancy high heeled shoes.
"Mr. Hummel?"
Honestly, Kurt was surprised at what he saw. When he lifted his gaze to meet the two agents, his biases formulated assumptions that they would be men. But when he was looking into the eyes of two women, standing authoritative and confident by the side of his bed, he couldn't help but smile inwardly. He made a mental note to check his personal biases.
"I am Agent Sibaja-Mora," the woman on the right, in her long black pea coat and tailored grey pants stepped forward and extended her hand. Kurt obliged by returning the gesture firmly, even though he was utterly exhausted. Her long, wavy black hair framed her face and draped neatly over each of her shoulders. Long eyelashes adorned a pair of stunning brown eyes that looked back at him with sympathy and determination. She motioned to her right and introduced her partner who stepped forward,
"I am Agent Freeman. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hummel," her hazel eyes were a light contrast to her stunning dark skin. The carefully fitted navy business suit hugged her athletic frame as she stepped forward and also shook Kurt's hand firmly. From her, he got more support than sympathy. Something about the way she held his hand and stared into his eyes told him that she and her partner would do anything to bring him justice.
"We don't want to bother you, Mr. Hummel. We can't even begin to understand what you have experienced and we want to give you time to rest," Agent Sibaja-Mora explained. Agent Freeman continued,
"We understand that you were attacked by the Neo-Nazi gang that we have been tracking, so we will have officers waiting outside yours and Mr. Anderson's room until you are both discharged. Then, we ask that you come to the FBI office and have a conversation with us."
They both saw Kurt's expression fall in defeat. His body language spoke volumes of how much he wanted to just forget all of this. The agents looked at each other, silently contemplating how to continue. Agent Sibaja-Mora stepped forward and, gesturing toward the chair, sat down when Kurt nodded his approval.
"I'm going to be straight with you, Mr. Hummel. I want these men behind bars. They deserve to be punished for what they have done to you and so many other victims. But my partner and I cannot do this without your help."
Kurt just examined her face silently, trying to look for some kind of insincerity. His fatigue and frustration began to change is mood about these two. He wasn't sure why, but her last statement made him feel like this was just another job to them. Perhaps they weren't there to bring him and Blaine justice. What would stop them from getting his, and possibly Blaine's, statement and just disappearing without talking to them again? He had to stifle his paranoia for a moment in order to hear what they had to say.
"Kurt, they want to help you," the hopeful words of encouragement came from his father's lips. Agent Freeman stepped forward, combing her fingers through her wavy, dark hair,
"I can tell that you don't really trust us, and I don't blame you. What do these two ladies care about me and my fiance? Believe me, Mr. Hummel, we do. Every couple that has been victimized by this gang has been killed. The fact that you and your fiance, and the last couple survived the attacks shows us that these men are getting either sloppy or desperate. We are on the verge of catching them."
Kurt shrugged, seeming apathetic, "Why? What makes you think that they won't just disappear."
"Because they are arrogant and always have to have the last word. I won't lie to you, Mr. Hummel. You and Mr. Anderson are not safe right now. The fact that you are alive means they will be coming back to finish the job. That is why we are assigning security to you two until we can get you to an undisclosed location. But with you and Mr. Anderson, we will finally put them away."
"Basically, what my partner is politely trying to say is that these men fucked with the wrong people, if you'll pardon my language."
Kurt had a sudden urge of confidence with their remarks. He sat up a little straighter and rang his hands together with nervous energy. He looked at his father who just nodded as a source of encouragement. After a moment of contemplation, he made eye contact with each of the agents,
"Do you really think we can do this?"
Without missing a beat, both women said in unison, "Hell yes."
At that moment, Kurt didn't need any more convincing. He folded his arms in front of him and responded, "Then consider me an ally."
The two women shook hands with Kurt once more and instructed him to spend the rest of the day relaxing. They promised to return the following afternoon to have a more detailed conversation with him about what had happened. As they turned to leave, Kurt couldn't help but look at them differently. They came in strangers wanting to use him to do their job. They left as his trusted friends.
Aside from the quiet beep of the heart monitor, Kurt sat in silence in his bed. The hours had crept by so painfully slowly without any word on Blaine that he felt ready to scream. Nurses had come in at half hour intervals to check his vitals, but otherwise, he and his father had enjoyed their privacy. When Kurt had asked one of the nurses if he could go take a walk, she hesitated. After reassurance from Burt, she relented and allowed him to accompany Kurt down the hallway. Kurt was surprised at how exhausted his body felt. A simple stroll to the end of the hall and back left him winded. Never had he felt so incredibly out of shape.
"You've gone through trauma, Kurt. Give yourself a break," his father never failed to be the voice of reason.
Kurt insisted that Burt get up and stretch his legs. Thankfully his father had paid attention to his son's social cues over the years and took this as a hint that he wanted to be alone. After excusing himself to go get some coffee, Kurt sat for several minutes staring at his phone screen, trying to build up courage. All of his McKinley friends were in the dark about what happened to him and Blaine. He needed to tell them, but he was scared that another dreaded panic attack would disable him.
As his fingers navigated the collection of apps on his phone, he contemplated what his message would say to them. Once he pulled up the SMS app, he added Artie, Mercedes, and Rachel to the conversation. Sam would get his own personal one-on-one once he was finished. The clock read just past 4 P.M. so he hoped he was catching them at a good time. His thumbs moved quickly over the letters as he composed his message,
Guys, I have some bad news. Something happened.
Thankfully, Artie responded within seconds.
A:What's up, Kurt?
As Kurt tried to gather up the strength to tell them, he received responses from Mercedes and Rachel,
R:Is everything alright?
M:What happened?
The phone screen blurred as tears stung his eyes. The room seemed to be closing in on him as his hands began to shake. He had to respond. He couldn't leave them hanging,
Blaine and I are in the hospital. It's bad. I want to talk to you, but I want it to be a video call. Are you all available around noon tomorrow?
The responses were as varied as their personalities,
A:? Yes, noon will work.
M:Me too.
R:Kurt, tell us what's going on.
Kurt knew that, of the three of them, Rachel would be the most defiant. He shook his head, as if Rachel were there speaking to him. His response was adamant,
K:No, I'm not ready to talk about it right now, Rachel. Can you join us for the video call or not?
He was certain she was scoffing at that remark in her usual way when someone offended her. The next few seconds felt like an agonizing hour. He was hoping that he hadn't angered her out of talking.
R:I understand. I will be there. Talk to you tomorrow. Love you.
A:We love you, Kurt.
M:Yes, we love you very much, Kurt.
Before he lost himself completely, he pulled up Sam's phone number and pressed send. The phone rang on the other end...and rang...and rang. Kurt's heart pounded in his chest and his palms began to sweat. Come on, Sam, pick up, dammit! A click from the other end made him sit up straighter in his seat,
"Kurt, what's up, dude?" his voice was lively and enthusiastic as always.
Hearing his friend's voice made Kurt stop in his tracks. He wasn't ready and he sat there in silence, trying to articulate the words. Sam must have been worried because he started to question the awkward nothingness from the other end,
"Kurt? Kurt, are you alright?"
"Sam, I...I have some bad news." Well, that was a stupid way to start, Kurt. He could hear the panic in Sam's voice,
"Okay...um..what kind of bad news?"
"Blaine and I...something happened to us. I'm calling you from the hospital. I can't really get into detail right now, but the short story is that someone came to our place and attacked us." He took the silence from the other end as a sign that his friend was attempting to comprehend what he had just heard. "Sam, talk to me."
"Who the hell did this to you? I'm going to kill their asses. I'm getting my ticket changed and coming back tonight."
Kurt interrupted him, "No, don't do that! Just come tomorrow like you were planning. My dad will meet you at the airport and take you to his hotel room."
"Why can't I just go to the apartment?"
Kurt rolled his eyes and almost dropped the phone in frustration,
"Sam, someone attacked us in our apartment. It's a crime scene, you can't stay there."
"Okay, okay, calm down, Kurt. Take a deep breath."
Taking his friend's advice, Kurt pulled his phone from his ear. As he squeezed it with exasperation, he breathed in deeply a few times and then placed the phone back against his cheek.
"I'm sorry, Sam, I didn't mean to yell at you. Just go about your day as you had originally planned. Make sure to text me your flight info so I can let my dad know," he paused and looked out the window, searching for some hope in the sunlight that was fading into dusk, "I am looking forward to seeing you, Sam. I mean it."
"I love you, Kurt. You and Blaine. You know that, right?"
Kurt had to bite his tongue to stifle his tears. Even though the emotion was bubbling over, he was so grateful to hear those words. The last several hours had been so saturated with violence and hate, that Sam's words served as a sign of better things to come. He wished he could jump through the phone and throw his arms around Sam,
"I love you too. See you tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay. Take it easy."
A quiet click on the other end terminated the conversation. Kurt leaned back against the pillows and lost himself in a fit of sorrow. Burt entered the room within minutes of the call ending, saw his son in distress and rushed to the side of the bed. He didn't ask questions. He didn't pass judgement. He just held his son tightly in his arms and did his best to comfort him.
Three hours passed. No one had come to talk to him about Blaine and his mind was beginning to create horrific scenarios. The pain of waiting was worse than the pain he felt as he paced back and forth in his room. The doctors had since removed his I.V. and the monitors as he had shown good improvement throughout the day. He now walked free of tethers, but not free of anxiety.
As the hour ticked past 7 P.M., he realized he had gone longer without seeing his betrothed than ever before. The ticking of the clock in his room acted as a bully to his emotions. Burt watched his agonizing display of anguish and felt powerless to help. Trying to talk him down had proved unsuccessful, so he just sat and waited with him.
The knocking at the door almost sent Kurt out of his skin. His eyes darted around to the door as Dr. Nyugen entered. Kurt approached him and placed his hands on the man's shoulders in a pleading gesture. It took the doctor by surprise, but he listened patiently as Kurt started talking a mile a minute,
"Please tell me he is alive. Please tell me nothing bad happened."
Dr. Nyugen placed a reassuring hand on top of Kurt's,
"I would have come to talk to you if that were the case. He is in the ICU right now and he is stable. It took a bit longer to get him into surgery than we liked. The OR was occupied by another emergency, so we had to push his operation back."
"Can I see him?"
The doctor removed Kurt's hands from his shoulders and, moving his hands in an undulating motion, tried to help him gain his composure,
"You can't do anything until you calm down. So, take a deep breath first."
Kurt was beginning to get angry. He wanted to see Blaine and he wanted to see him now. However, he could tell that Dr. Nyugen was not backing down. When a stubborn and silent protest didn't work, he decided it was best to just give in. He closed his eyes in a meditative action. To his chagrin, it actually helped. The doctor gestured to the hallway,
"What about my dad. Can he come too?"
The doctor looked at Burt regrettably,
"Unfortunately no. Since it is the ICU we can only allow immediate family or medical proxies."
"It's okay, Kurt. Go ahead. Go see your soulmate." Burt spoke from the chair. The two of them had a nonverbal conversation. Kurt sent him messages of gratitude for his understanding. Burt watched him disappear into the hallway as a single tear fell from his eye.
"Now, Kurt, I have to warn you. Blaine will not look the way you are accustomed to seeing him. He is going to be hooked up to a lot of machines. Just try to remember that the wires and tubes are there to help him."
Kurt barely listened to Dr. Nyugen. All he cared about was taking his loved one in his arms and never letting go. Even though he was adamant to see him, he knew he had to mentally prepare himself. When the two men stopped outside the door of Blaine's room, Kurt paused and stared at the floor. He felt the doctor's hand on his shoulder,
"You go in when you are ready, okay? I will give you two some privacy."
The last image Kurt had of his loving Blaine brought him pain and anguish. He had been suffering and covered in blood. He closed his eyes and imagined his boyfriend as he had seen him the day before. His honey-colored eyes were bright and shining. His face beamed happily and was free from bruises and cuts. The memory made him escape from his current situation for just a moment before he slowly turned the doorknob and stepped inside.
Similar to his own room, the silence was filled with the faint beeping of the monitors. When he closed the door, he stayed there and just listened. He wasn't quite ready to look yet. As he strained his ears, he noticed other noises. Accompanying the beeping was a very faint hissing sound of air being exchanged. The only other sounds came in the form of ringing phones and quiet conversation out in the hall.
Kurt raised his gaze to the figure in the bed and felt like me might faint. The words of the doctor reverberated in his mind as he cursed himself for not taking the man seriously. Blaine certainly did not look like himself. His small form was covered in so much medical equipment that he almost appeared robotic. What little skin was showing contained cuts and bruises. The only solace Kurt could take from the scene before him was that it was all there to help him recover.
He approached the bed and looked down at Blaine's face. While the swelling was down, his eye was still very black and blue. Sadly, the beautiful hazel irises were hidden and would remain that way for some time. The hissing sound came from the ventilator beside the bed. A large tube protruded from his mouth, held in place with some kind of blue mechanism over his lips. Kurt gently combed his fingers through Blaine's messy curls and immediately felt all of the hurt, anxiety and tension disappear. Even though he was in a terrible state, Kurt was still able to glean a feeling of happiness and safety from his boyfriend's touch.
As he pulled up the chair next to Blaine's bed, he continued to survey the man's condition. On the other side of the bed, sticking out from his lover's left side was a large plastic tube. Dr. Nyugen's explanation of fluid drainage replayed in his mind. He hoped it was doing it's job. Blaine had not been dressed in a hospital gown. Kurt could see that the surgeries, even though their purpose was to aid him, had taken their toll on Blaine's body. Several gauze patches covered his chest and abdomen indicating that the operations were very invasive.
Kurt looked down and Blaine's hand laying limply against the sheets. He worked his fingers under it, being careful not to jostle the complicated I.V. apparatus taped on his forearm. When he brought it to his face, and drew in a deep breath of Blaine's scent, it caused a tingling sensation of relief to fill his body. For a moment, he pretended they were back in bed at the Bushwick apartment. Anything to escape from the hell that was their current reality was a relief.
Amidst the symphony of medical equipment, Kurt could feel his eyelids becoming heavy. It made no sense. Other than the short walk, he had spent the entire day taking it easy and sitting in bed. He could only surmise that the sudden fatigue was a realization of the emotional stress and the toll it had taken on him. The sheets looked inviting, as did the fact that he was now with his soulmate with no one interrupting him. Kurt moved the chair closer to the bed and leaned over, placing his face against the mattress. One more quick check of Blaine's condition confirmed that he was still alive. And this allowed Kurt to fall into a deep sleep, now comforted by the fact that he was with the love of his life.
