Yeah, it's been a while. Sorry about that.

This chapter is kind of anti climatic, building up for the next one.

I don't own a thing.


The sun was shining brightly. It was beautiful day in Lima, Ohio. Kurt Hummel, however, noticed none of it.

He didn't notice the miniscule rainbows that were being cast through the window, reflecting off the tiny droplets of water that had landed on the glass panes from the sprinkler.

He didn't notice the laughter of the kids as they ran through the garden opposite his house.

He didn't even notice the mail on the counter next to him, advertising the '30%-70% Off' sale that was on at the mall.

All he could focus on was the phone sitting in front of him. Mocking him. Taunting him.

Kurt willed it to ring. Willed for Carol to call, bringing news of Blaine's condition.

"I don't want to see these people near my son's room again," Mr Anderson roared at the doctor, he turned to Kurt and his dad, "Get out of here," he continued, "and don't ever come back."

Kurt had struggled, desperate to get to Blaine's side. But Burt had tugged him away, well aware that they had no legal right to see Blaine. If Mathew Anderson didn't want Kurt near his son, then Kurt wasn't going to be seeing Blaine for a while.

Kurt had never been more thankful that Carol was a nurse.

"Mr Anderson please calm down," she said firmly, stepping towards the raging man, "I'm Carol, your son's nurse. I'll make sure he's looked after." She directed the last sentence to her husband and son, and sent them a pointed glance.

Burt nodded subtly, and pulled Kurt through the hall with difficulty.

Kurt wanted Blaine. Kurt needed Blaine. The boy he loved. The boy who was currently lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by uncaring parents and indifferent hospital staff.

But, the optimism in him argued, there was Carol. Beautiful, wonderful, caring, loving, motherly Carol.

Kurt took a small amount of comfort in the fact that Carol loved Blaine. All the Hudson-Hummels loved Blaine. He was one of them. As soon as it became evident that they, Kurt and Blaine, were in it for the long haul, Blaine had been taken in by the family with open arms.

They, Burt, Carol and Finn, had seen that no matter what crap life seemed to throw at Kurt and Blaine, they always managed to come through it stronger, more assured that the only person they would ever love was the person who'd suck by there side during the darkest of nights.

Blaine was it for Kurt.

And Kurt was it for Blaine.

They were endgame.

And Blaine needed Kurt now. Needed him more than he'd ever needed somebody in his life. Nothing would stop Kurt from being there for Blaine.

He was brought out from his thoughts when a heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder, causing him to jump, banging his leg under the table.

"What?" he grumbled, reaching down to rub at his knee.

"Hey now kiddo, I understand that you're angry, but I'm still your father, and I demand a little respect."

Kurt sighed again, "Sorry dad," he said weakly, "Have you heard from Carol?"

Burt looked at him with a raised eyebrow, "You've been manning the phone since we got home Kurt."

"Oh yeah. Right. Um, what time does she finish her shift?" He asked, glancing at his dad, "Can we pick her up from work? Does she need anything from the shops? I should call and check."

"Kurt," Burt began, placing his hand over Kurt's as he reached for the phone, "She'll call as soon as she can."

Kurt flipped his hand so he could grip his dads tightly.

"I just," he murmured, looking intently at the larger hand gripping his, "I- Blaine, I love him, and he needs me dad. He's got no one else. How, how can I be there for him when his father," Kurt spat the work out like it was poison, "his own father, won't let the people who care for him most see him?"

Burt sat down next to his son, and tugged him close, keeping their hands linked, "I know you love him. And that boy loves you too, with every fibre of his being. But, Kurt, we have to be patient; we have to wait for word from Carol. Right now, there's not much we can do. Legally, Blaine belongs to his father, and legally, we have absolutely no right to see him."

Kurt rested his head on his dads shoulder, scrunching his face up in an attempt to not cry.

Tears wouldn't help Blaine.

"But," Burt continued, "When Carol does come home, she's working another shift later tonight, at 11, maybe you could give her a few things to pass onto Blaine, so that he knows you're trying," Burt squeezed his sons hands tightly, comfortingly, "So he knows there are good people out here, good people who love him dearly."

Kurt nodded into his dads shoulder, sniffling slightly, "And you said I got my brains from mom."

"You did kiddo, brains from your mom and dashing good looks from me."

Kurt snorted, and stood up, stretching his legs out.

"I'll be in my room."

"Sure kiddo," Burt replied, standing to make his way towards the living room.

"Dad?"

Burt turned, looking at his son quizzically.

"I love you."

"I love you too Kurt. Always."


Blaine woke with a start, pulling in ragged breaths, each one significantly more painful than the one before it. His skin was damp with sweat, causing the low thread count hospital sheets to stick to him as he writhed around the small bed, trying to find a less painful position.

Wincing slightly, he reached towards the small cabinet to his left, groping blindly for his phone.

He cringed as he accidentally knocked it to the ground, hearing it shatter on impact.

Tears sprung to his eyes. That phone was his last line to Kurt.

He brought his hands to his face, rubbing desperately at his sore eyes. He gulped down air, trying to push back the frustrated scream that was fighting its way up through his throat.

Kurt. Beautiful Kurt.

A sob escaped his throat, the sound of it slicing through the empty room.

Blaine had never felt more alone.

"Where's Kurt?" he questioned quietly, still drowsy from the drugs in his system.

"You'll never see that boy again. You can be normal now," Mathew replied.

Blaine shut his eyes tightly, fists clenched into the sheets by his sides as he willed himself not to cry in front of his father.

Reassured with Blaine's lack of response, Mathew Anderson flounced out the door, without a second look back at his son.

Penelope remained, staring at Blaine with clouded eyes.

Blaine shifted his gaze to her, "mom," he pleaded.

She opened her mouth to respond, but snapped it shut, spun on her heel, and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

The light in Blaine's dull and dreary life at the moments was Carol Hummel. Kurt's unbelievably kind stepmother.

She'd taken to checking in on Blaine more than an average nurse would, she'd stop by every chance she got, bringing news from home, messages from Kurt and their friends.

Twice now she'd been the one to hold him as he wept into her shoulder. He was grateful for her motherly touch, but wished that his own cared half as much.

"Blaine? Honey, it's me, Carol."

Blaine looked up, wiping at his nose with the back of his wrist.

"Carol," he croaked out, coughing slightly, "where's Kurt?"

She closed the door silently and moved towards Blaine, "your father sent him away," she answered quietly, sitting gingerly at his bedside, "he'd be here if he could dear, and trust me, he's tried, but your dad's got hospital security on the lookout. And as your not yet 18, his word goes."

Blaine nodded sadly, dejectedly.

"Kurt loves you Blaine, he's a smart boy, he'll figure something out for sure."

Blaine just nodded again, biting his lip to keep it from trembling.

Carol stood from her seat, relocating to the edge of Blaine's bed. He leaned into her instantly, and she wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders gently, leaning down to kiss his forehead. He welcomed her motherly touch with open arms, not used to being comforted, as his own mother was absent for the majority of his childhood.

"They're sending me to straight camp," he said quietly into her shoulder.

Carol stiffened, she'd heard stories and seen news articles about what could happen in those places.

She rubbed Blaine's back gently, "We'll figure something out," she soothed.

Blaine nodded, disbelief evident in his posture.

"Tell him I love him, next time you see him," he pulled away to look her in the eyes, "tell him I love him more than anything."

And she did, for the entire week Blaine was isolated from those who loved him, Carol brought messages back and forth, like a beloved carrier pigeon.

They kept him going, kept him sane. The little messages from Kurt and the rest of their tightly knit group were the things he was holding onto.


Seven days had passed since Blaine's collapse in Glee.

Six nights since Kurt had had a decent nights sleep.

Roughly 170 hours since either of them had smiled.

The doctors had believed Mathew Anderson when he claimed that his son's various injuries were from a fall. They turned a blind eye on the belt buckle shaped bruise Blaine's right shoulder now adorned, despite that it was unbelievably obvious. A little money can go a long way.

A little story, it seemed, can also go a long way.

That was why when Blaine was discharged early Thursday morning, he, along with his parents, stopped short at the hospital entryway.

There were news vans and reporters spread throughout the parking lot.


*laughs manically*

I was going to write more, but decided to leave it there, and post what I've got, because, as I said up the top, it's been a while.

Please don't expect the next chapter for at least three weeks. Probably longer. I'm graduating on Thursday (yay) and then going to schoolies, and then coming home, and moving to Asia.

The next couple of months are going to be busy. Sigh.

Reviews are lovely.