Sylvester's Office, Stheno Laboratories, Under Arafura Sea, Queensland, Australia 06:51:39
"Oh thank God," was Santana's comment when Kurt's vision swam back into reality.
"Kurt," Blaine breathed out his name like a prayer, hand soft on the side of Kurt's face.
"Ow," was all Kurt had to say for himself, his whole body feeling like an ache, and Blaine let out a chuckle, still touching Kurt's face softly.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Santana was yelling at him, but it didn't sound like she really meant it. "We told you on the first damn day not to take on Goolsby!"
"Santana, we've already broken all the rules," Kurt whispered, but since breathing kind of hurt, he decided not to talk too much.
"Well, there's illegal, and then there's just stupid," Santana muttered, but she had calmed down. "That looked like a fun fall from the balcony. You're a mess."
"How bad?" Kurt whispered, and Blaine was still touching him like he had been terrified that Kurt wasn't going to wake up.
"Your face is all bruised up and will probably be swollen." Santana reached for the zipper of his suit, and Kurt probably would have objected on any other day (especially with Blaine right there), but there was glass in his stomach and a rib or two was probably broken and it really wasn't the moment for modesty. Blaine hissed when Santana got his zipper down to his naval, so Kurt probably wasn't exactly a pretty sight. "Some nice bruises up here too, and it looks like your shoulder might be dislocated from that twist. Glass and," Kurt groaned in pain as she probed at his side ruthlessly, "three broken ribs. You, Hummel, are an idiot."
"Some bedside manner might be nice, Agent Lopez," Blaine objected.
"Santana, kid. I think you've earned it." Despite her rather brusque words, Santana's fingers on his skin were gentle. "I'm gonna get the glass out. Just… try to hold still."
"I've gotten glass out of my chest before, Santana, it's fine," Kurt muttered, realizing the broken ribs were probably why it hurt to breathe. He tried not to think about that day, the glass digging into his side as he landed in the dumpster. This was a hundred times more painful, but that piece of glass was definitely larger. Still, Kurt winced, biting the inside of his cheek as Santana dug out little pieces with her fingernails. Before she could tell him or he could object, she also grabbed his arm and popped it back in its socket.
Blaine was still touching his face and neck, looking ridiculously relieved. "You scared me," was all he said, still touching Kurt gently. "You really scared me."
Instead of focusing on the pain in his stomach and the clink of glass falling to the floor, Kurt looked around. He was on a desk, all the contents that he presumed had been on the desk dumped to the floor. It was probably Sue Sylvester's office, but the only woman in the world crazy enough to intentionally anger Sue Sylvester was currently picking glass out of his stomach. The office looked incredibly low-tech compared to the rest of the laboratory, a standard office with beige walls, bookshelves, file cabinets, and the desk he was resting on was oak. There was one plush, blue desk chair to his left, and two dark, wooden visitor chairs to his right, with a door on the far right wall. The office made Sue Sylvester seem alarmingly human, so Kurt turned back to look at Blaine, who looked a little worse for wear himself.
"What happened to you two?" Kurt managed to get out before Santana chastised him for talking, picking what felt like a large piece out of his stomach.
"Santana shot a bunch of goons, which was fun, and I knifed a few." Blaine looked a little guilty.
"And me, once," Santana muttered. "It's hard to deal with people who don't have weapons training."
"Lay-" Before Kurt could get the full admonition out, Blaine quieted him with a finger.
"It's fine. I only got her arm; it stopped bleeding within a few minutes, it was relatively shallow."
"Still stung like a bitch," Santana muttered.
"I also cut myself up a little," Blaine admitted, holding up his scratched-up hands, "but I told you I could shoot a gun, not handle a knife."
"And after being sliced by you with a fairly innocent weapon, I'm certainly not giving you a gun," Santana said, picking one more piece of glass deep out of his stomach. "And you're good, Hummel, though you still have some flakes in your hair." Santana zipped him up, but Kurt didn't get off the table quite yet. He didn't have to, so he didn't want to. "So Blaine's got a few slices and I have a few flesh wounds around my vest, but we're no worse for wear. We kind of went peaceably after watching you get the shit beat out of you by Goolsby… in vain, no less."
"All right, Miss Bedside, leave him alone," Blaine said, kissing the side of Kurt's head. "Just be glad he's okay."
"I'm fine," Kurt insisted, making Blaine smile.
"Stand up then," Santana challenged.
"Shut up, Santana," they said simultaneously.
"Fine, fine, I'll give you two a moment." Santana had barely turned her back and Blaine was kissing Kurt, relief and astonishment and something else Kurt wasn't really ready to name.
"I'm so glad you're okay," Blaine said again. "You scared the crap out of me."
"I'm sorry," Kurt murmured.
"Don't apologize," Blaine said in reply, still petting him. "You're doing all of this for me. I…" Kurt leaned up a little, ignoring all the pain it caused in his stomach, kissing him, soft kisses that stopped Blaine from doing anything as stupid as everything Kurt had done since they met.
"Help me up," he said once Blaine had let him go, and Blaine gently propped him up until he was sitting on the desk, catching his breath from sudden spurts of pain.
"I'm guessing you're not up for another fight like that," Santana said rather dryly. "We need a plan, not to break up the love connection, and I would prefer to come up with one before Sylvester comes back for us."
"We need our gadgets. Our bombs and frequency jammers and spidy gloves and we might be able to get out of here with Kurt in this state."
"Plus we have twenty-one hours," Blaine said softly, and this time it was Kurt touching his boyfriend's face.
"Don't talk like that." Before Blaine could respond, the door opened, and none other than Sue Sylvester walked in.
"Hello, miscreants." Her ice-cold stare turned to Kurt. "You should be proud of your fighting skills, you broke four of Dustin's ribs and got glass lodged as deep as three inches into his flesh." She looked around, more indifferent than angry. "You've also destroyed my office."
"Unlike you," Kurt said as Blaine's arm wrapped gently around his waist, "I don't take pleasure in hurting other people."
Sue Sylvester grinned widely at him. "Of course you do, especially when it's in pursuit of protecting your boyfriend. That would explain why you're here, without backup, and why Blaine is here with you. Reckless, but brave, and awfully romantic." Kurt didn't say anything, digging his fingers into the wood of her desk. "I'm going to assume this glass is from your stomach?" Kurt didn't give her the satisfaction of a reply, or the mental image of him grimacing in pain as the glass was dug from his stomach. It would probably give her pleasure. "Glad to have you in fighting shape, though I'm not sure that's a good description at the moment."
"Sylvester, why don't you just kill us?" Santana asked, obviously fed up with the mind games.
"Because I need him here," Sylvester replied, gesturing to Blaine, "and the best way to keep him under control is to have the two of you to threaten him with, the same way I'm manipulating his pathetic father." Blaine didn't react to the insult to his father, possibly because there were much more important things to worry about, like his life. "So, where are you from? FBI? NSA? Attorney General's office?" Santana remained stonily silent, and Kurt did the same, squeezing Blaine's knee where he had put his hand as a cue for him too as well. "Fine. I don't need to know. You'll be dead within a day, and I really hope others come looking for you. I really do." Sylvester left the office, slamming the door behind her.
All three were silent for a few moments, and then… "Did she lock that?" Blaine was the one who asked.
"I doubt she has to," Santana said with a sigh. "We have no plan, no gadgets, and Kurt's not going anywhere fast."
"I think I could push past the pain, Santana," Kurt said, jumping to his feet and then immediately regretting it.
"Uh-huh, sure," Santana said. "Bend down and pick something up."
"Fair enough," Kurt said with a sigh, because he knew exactly how painful that would be. "Where else could our gadgets be?"
There was a knock on the door, which was the strangest thing by far that had happened all day. The head that poked in was familiar though, and Santana relaxed with a breath. "Dad!" Blaine said, running to hug his father. "I thought you weren't supposed to be here," Blaine commented, still not letting go.
"One of my guards has children and took pity. Blaine, what's happening? Sue Sylvester told me my work would go into government surveillance and save the country millions in military costs. This doesn't look like that anymore," Dr. Anderson muttered, clutching at his son in return.
"Sue Sylvester is a liar and a witch," Santana said rather bitterly. "Her company has nothing but selfless and despotic plans for the technology you create, and if we hadn't been forced to intervene, she would have used the technology to bug our government, and the government of any country that opposed her as ruler of... I don't know. The country? The world? She's crazy, Dr. Anderson."
"And who, exactly, are you two?" Dr. Anderson asked, releasing his son.
"We're not supposed to say," Santana replied. "Company policy."
"Aren't most federal agents required to announce and identify themselves?" Dr. Anderson asked, obviously a very smart man.
"Not us," was Santana's answer, and Kurt saw the silent agreement pass between them. Dr. Anderson wouldn't ask, and Santana wouldn't tell, but everyone knew.
"You seem rather... understaffed," Dr. Anderson said, and he was looking at Kurt, clearly judging the CIA for using a juvenile agent.
"He has many skills," Santana replied.
"I have to admit to you," Dr. Anderson said as Blaine crossed the room again and sat next to Kurt on the desk, "I will not be able to do what Sue Sylvester requests of me in the time granted."
"We know, Dr. Anderson. We plan to get you and Blaine out of here and destroy your research long before the deadline," Santana said confidently, and thankfully the good doctor didn't start questioning her strategy or plan. He just nodded and accepted that she knew what she was doing, even though she didn't.
"If it helps," Dr. Anderson said as he headed out of the room, "they took all of your stuff two doors down, near the guard quarters and east exit." He shut the door behind them, but Santana opened it almost immediately after.
"Stay," she said to Blaine and Kurt as she left the room.
Sylvester's Office, Stheno Laboratories, Under Arafura Sea, Queensland, Australia 07:12:46
Santana returned with three gadget belts and a grin, closing the door behind her. "Let's blow this dump."
"How?" Blaine was the first person to ask. "How are we going to get out of here? We have no idea where we came in, and no idea how to get out, and we're under water. Plus, when we get back to the beach, how are we going to get past the guns?"
"Blaine, you need to have a little more faith in my powers of observation," Kurt said with a smile, hopping off the desk and trying to ignore the biting pain in his stomach. Judging by Santana's snort, his face showed his discomfort. "There are six exits, and I bet they all leave at different places."
"What if one dumps us in the middle of the ocean?"
"Then our stealth suits double as scuba suits," Santana replied with a smile. "Where's the nearest exit?"
"What about saving my dad and destroying this lab?" Blaine asked. Kurt breathed out heavily, getting used to the burning from his torso.
"San, did you happen to notice where Dr. Anderson's lab is?"
"West side of the room, upper floor."
"What is the direction people look the least in?"
"Up. I'm not going to like this, am I?"
"Grab your Spidy gloves and feet."
"What about Blaine?" Santana asked. "He doesn't know how to work them, and they're dangerous without training. He could drop two floors into a room full of men with guns."
"Blaine, do you trust me?"
"You're going to ditch me at an exit, aren't you?" Blaine asked, and Kurt nodded. "Fine. Yes, yes I do."
"Go," Kurt said firmly. "Don't wait for us, just go. We'll find you, I promise." Kurt gave Blaine a soft kiss before taking his hand and heading for the door, opening it a crack. "Come on." Kurt threw a marble camera out, just hard enough that it wouldn't fall off the balcony, and snatched Santana's command center from her hand, opening up for the frequency of the camera. "Three guards." Kurt pulled out his gun, hating the idea of firing it. "Ready?"
"We're just going to charge them?" Blaine asked, incredulous. "You're injured. Like... debilitated, injured."
"I'm not going to charge them," Kurt said calmly. "I'm going to use this." Before Blaine could argue, Kurt opened the door enough that he heard the click of three guns. He waited, patiently, and when the first barrel came around the door, Kurt grabbed the barrel of his own weapon and swung it like a hammer, sending the guy sprawling. Before the other men could react and shoot, Kurt slid out and knocked them unconscious, one with a blow to the temple and the other with a kick to the groin before dropping him with a pressure point.
They fell to the floor rather quietly, Kurt sliding his gun into its holster and grabbing Blaine's hand as they ducked out. The first exit he saw had a rather complicated fingerprint lock. Kurt didn't have the time, so he went the brute's way and placed his gun against the box, shooting it with a pang that would hopefully go unnoticed.
Kurt and Blaine walked through the door when it unlocked with a click, and Kurt pushed Blaine up against the wall as soon as they were inside, kissing him. It was dark, but it looked like another frickin' tunnel, and he didn't have the time to follow Blaine. "Good luck," Kurt whispered to his boyfriend before ducking out of the room and closing the door behind them. For good measure, now that Blaine was safe, he dug through the wires of the box, locking it before shooting them again. They wouldn't be able to use that exit, and they would have to find Blaine on the outside.
Kurt ducked back into Sue Sylvester's office with a nod to Santana. They donned the Spidy Gloves, not saying a word, and this felt like another suicide mission. The fact that they hadn't died yet was a miracle, and they still had a long way to go. "Good luck," Santana said as they stood on the balcony, glad they were being under-supervised, though Kurt couldn't imagine why there weren't guards outside Sue Sylvester's office. Maybe they were convinced they wouldn't leave without Dr. Anderson (which they wouldn't), and all they were doing was guarding him.
Santana gave him a kiss on the cheek, which was unusually feminine for her, before jumping up, catching her hand on the ceiling, and standing on the bar, awkwardly wiggling into her Spidy Feet as Kurt did the same. This was probably going to be the most pain he had ever been in, but all he had to do was get across the ceiling. As soon as they got the Spidy Feet on, they curled up, pressing both their hands and feet to the ceiling, and Kurt was immediately in agony. "I can't," he whispered to Santana, dropping onto just his feet. While using just Spidy Feet instead of just Spidy Gloves was less dangerous as far as falling (it was a lot easier to dislocate a shoulder than dislocate a leg), it also made Kurt more of a target and slower. Still, it would work, and he walked across the ceiling as Santana crawled.
"What is going on?" Santana whispered to Kurt as they hovered above the stairs they would need to descend, not dropping yet.
She got her answer as a rush of red water covered the floor and the guards started yelling from the direction of Dr. Anderson's lab, gushing through the sliding doors. "He's trying to help us escape," Kurt realized.
"Idiot," Santana said, following the insult by several seconds of swearing.
"Like father, like son," Kurt murmured in reply.
Santana let herself go like a cat, falling perfectly straight and catching herself on the railing with a Spidy Glove, which looked simultaneously painful and effortless. She climbed below the balcony as Kurt followed, ignoring the bruises that pulled everywhere on his body.
Kurt had just ducked below the balcony when a whirring sound pierced the air and the sprinkler system went off, red water laced with man-eating microbes pouring from the ceiling into the main lab. Santana started loping across the ceiling with her hands. The guards had abandoned any job they had, running and screaming as they headed away from the sprinklers, towards the exits, into the decontamination showers (which Kurt was willing to bet were filled with luey para, courtesy of Dr. Anderson), everywhere. The scene was disgusting, with rashes already appearing on the skin of some poorly-protected guards and blood pouring from the ceiling. Santana made it to Dr. Anderson's lab first, and he was standing on the table with a hose pouring red, almost hitting Santana with it.
"Dr. Anderson!" she yelled over the melee of sirens and screams. "We're not leaving without you."
"I did this to the world!" Dr. Anderson yelled. "I created these monsters, and I deserve to be destroyed with them."
"Dr. Anderson, you didn't know what you were doing." Kurt yelled, the stress being put on his achy shoulders making him a little irritable. "I can destroy all of this science, but I can't destroy Blaine, and that's what loosing you would do!"
"You son loves you, Michael!" Santana yelled. "You can't lose that, no matter what you do. Come with us, and we'll keep you safe."
"We'll even throw you in jail if it makes you feel better!" Kurt yelled out, a comment that had not passed through his brain-mouth filter, but thankfully the Anderson family shared a sense of humor and Dr. Anderson chuckled darkly.
"I don't deserve to live!" he yelled out, pointing the hose at a guard, who began reddening and screaming instantly. "I made this bloodbath, I deserve to drown in it!"
"I don't have time for this," Santana said, sticking her feet to the ceiling. She pulled one hand off, reached for her gun in her holster, and shot Dr. Anderson in the foot. Dr. Anderson just stared at his injured foot, uncomprehending, not even reacting, the hose dropping from his hand. It wasn't a loss, because there were no more guards approaching them. They had all taken cover or become incapacitated. Kurt loped over and kicked at a pressure point, knocking him out in time for Santana to catch him with one hand, dragging him up in a fireman's carry. "There's an exit just to our right, under the balcony. Go!"
"I can't," Kurt said. "I have to find them."
"Kurt, you'll die!" Santana objected. "You're injured!"
"I'll be fine," Kurt yelled, loping out before she could argue.
"I'll leave the door unlocked, wacko," Santana said, carrying Dr. Anderson away with difficulty. He was unconscious, and his foot was bleeding, but other than that he was fine.
Stheno Laboratories, Under Arafura Sea, Queensland, Australia 07:28:46
Kurt couldn't let Sue Sylvester go unpunished, as crazy as it sounded, and he loped back upstairs, ignoring the spray of luey para that landed on his arm and hoping to hell the process wasn't as painful as it looked. His arm wasn't reddening yet beyond from the dye, so he didn't worry about it. When he climbed up the balcony, he found possibly the most disgusting sight in the world. Dr. Anderson hadn't taken Sylvester's threat to Blaine lightly, and Kurt wasn't sure how he had done it, but Sue Sylvester was rotting both from the inside and from the outside. She was dead, and half-decomposed, and Kurt almost wished he could have given her a merciful death.
But he didn't have time to worry about how horrible it had been for Sue Sylvester to meet the very fate she had assigned to his boyfriend. Instead, he headed for the guard room, marked as such, where he knew he would find the one person he wanted to see.
Dustin Goolsby had been mutated, the luey para starting to redden a stripe from his left hip, where his shirt was torn, up to his right temple. "What are you doing here, little shit? Here for round two, because I don't think you're up to it."
"You're right," Kurt said, landing on the ground. "I can't fight you, and I can't beat you, but I also can't watch you be eaten." Kurt pulled out his gun and almost regretted it as he shot Goolsby in the hip. Before the goon could react, Kurt jumped him, knocking a pressure point and making him pass out. The man was two hundred and thirty pounds, but Kurt was running on pure adrenaline, supporting his weight before he could fall into the two inches of man-eating microbes coating the floor as the sirens continued to wail. As Kurt felt the ground sinking, his stealth suit hopefully protecting him from the luey para as he carried Goolsby out, he wondered if human was all luey para ate. He didn't have time to worry about it though, running down the stairs, tossing open the door to the exit Santana had gone through, almost throwing Goolsby in, and then slamming the door closed.
"You need to get out of here," he said to Santana. "Take these two go through the tunnel, and get as far from the lab as possible. Try to find Blaine."
"I can't take both of them!" Santana objected, so Kurt did the smartest thing he could think of in the moment. He whipped out his laser and pointed it at Dr. Anderson's back. With a yelp, the good doctor was brought brutally back to consciousness.
"Go with her, or I will strangle you myself," he threatened Blaine's father. "Take him," he said, toeing Goolsby's limp body. "Run. Call the CIA, get a chopper, I don't care. Just get as far from here as you can."
"What are you going to do?" Santana asked.
"Leave the doors open," Kurt muttered.
"You have to be the craziest person I've ever met," Santana complained as Kurt reached into her belt for her link bombs too.
"Go, go!" Kurt yelled at her before running back in. This time, he didn't even bother trying to duck around the luey para flowing around the laboratory, so thick it was almost sludge. He ran up the stairs, his stealth suit starting to decompose a little, and his only plan was to throw them, trying to scatter them as much as possible. With enough of them, it wouldn't matter where they were. Maybe luey para were even flammable.
Kurt raced back down the stairs, realizing the skin of his right arm and neck was starting to prickle and redden, and slammed himself into the exit, glad he could no longer hear feet in the tunnel. Santana was long gone. Kurt sent up a prayer to a god he didn't believe in, and hit the frequency jammer. The moment he heard the first bomb go off, he ran blindly, the tunnel shaking as little explosions followed, the smell of sulfur reaching his nose. He reached a ladder as the exit door blew open, molten microbes flowing into the tunnel as he climbed up, and he reached the top in what must have been record time, closing the door behind him and shooting at it blindly, hoping it would stay shut if the liquid rose. He ran out about a hundred feet before he heard the big explosion, the ground shaking and knocking him over. The door over the tunnel popped, but didn't open, and the ground settled.
Kurt moaned, the adrenaline wearing off as the whole world settled. Santana was out there somewhere, with a suicidal scientist and someone who would very shortly be a convicted felon. Blaine was somewhere else, alone and probably scared, not knowing what that explosion he had just felt (because Kurt was sure he had felt it) meant for the people he cared about. But Kurt was tired, bruised, cut, broken, burned, and possibly being eaten by microbes, and the world swam for the third time that day as Kurt descended into darkness.
Cairns Private Hospital, 1 Upward Street, Cairns QLD 4870, Australia 16:57:23
Kurt felt like he was floating as he woke up, and then he realized there must be painkillers in his system, because the last thing he remembered was agony and fatigue and fire and blood pouring from the ceiling and...
Okay, maybe his details were a little messed up, but he certainly hadn't felt this good when he had fallen asleep, on the sparse grass around Cape York Peninsula.
Where was he? A hospital room, was his conclusion after looking around, and a nice hospital room. Probably still somewhere in Australia, but he couldn't be sure.
What time was it? That one he could answer easily. There was a clock on the wall, proclaiming that it was five o'clock. As for the day, he had no clue, but it didn't feel like he had been asleep for more then twenty-four hours. It was possible, with the pain killers.
What shape was he in? That answer was less positive. His ear was taped up, his hands completely immobile with bandages, his wrists wrapped from chafing, the left one splinted. His neck and right arm were wrapped in blue bandages, and that probably had something to do with the microbe that had been eating at his skin. Maybe Dr. Anderson had helped them make something to kill it off, because the salve felt cool on his skin. His stomach was wrapped, maybe from the glass, and so was his torso, probably to keep him still, which meant that Santana had been right about his broken ribs. Anything dislocated had been popped back in, and Kurt would be feeling the bruises covering almost every inch of him if it weren't for the painkillers.
Where were Blaine and Santana? That wasn't a question he could answer, and it was killing him. Unfortunately, he was attached to a heart monitor and an IV, and so filled with drugs that he probably couldn't walk anyway. He would have to wait, and that would be more painful than actually feeling his injuries. Possibly.
Thankfully, his questions were answered when Santana walked into the hospital room, shutting the door behind her. She looked radiant, Kurt noticed in his haze state, in a gray scoop-neck dress that shimmered slightly as she walked, with her hair down for the first time since Kurt had met her, glossy and long. "Hey, there, Hummel," she said as she walked in, and with make-up on, showered, and groomed, she looked no worse for wear for their little adventure.
"How are you?"
"Me, I'm uninjured," she said with a smile, pulling up the sleeve of her dress a little to show a bandage. "I needed three stitches from your boyfriend's little hazard, but other than that I'm fine. A few bruises, chafed wrists, some flesh wounds, and a lifetime of traumatic memories."
"You look beautiful," Kurt said before he could think about it, but she just laughed.
"You're delirious, aren't you?"
"Maybe."
Santana smiled at him. "You're pretty banged up, Hummel."
"I'm fine, San. Where's Blaine?"
"In a hospital bed." When Kurt started getting out of his own in horror, Santana stopped him with a push that proved how drugged and off-balance he was. "He was a little too close to the explosion, waiting for us, got a concussion. They bandaged up his hands."
"What about Dr. Anderson? Goolsby?" he asked, the only other two people he had worried about rescuing from the sludge of molten luey para, for entirely different reasons.
"Besides the shot in the foot and a lot of damage from longtime exposure to luey para, he's all right," Santana answered. "He calmed down with the suicidal stuff once we reconnected with Blaine, and he helped create the salve for your damages."
"I figured."
"I think he'll still spend some time in the psyche ward, but he'll be all right. At least he's alive," Santana said with a sigh.
"And Goolsby?"
"Also alive, though a little worse for wear. His luey para damage was so deep, he'll have a scar, unlike you. You cracked some ribs and punctured one of his lungs, as well as causing a little bit of internal damage and shooting him in the hip. He'll be in the hospital for a while, under various locks and keys, and then he'll be on death row. Treason to the United States is what they're charging him with, and if they can't get him on that, multiple charges of murder and assault and a bunch of other charges that guarantee he'll be locked away for a long, long time, if not executed."
"What happened?" Kurt asked finally. "After the explosion."
"The CIA flew in a chopper from Cairns to get you to this hospital. We found Blaine before we found you, and I think Blaine thought you were dead when we found you. You looked dead." Santana sounded like she had thought Kurt was dead, too, but she would never admit it, so they moved on. "The Australian police came and picked up Goolsby; apparently he'll be charged on a lot here too. We're all staying here, Blaine, Dr. Anderson, and I, until you've healed up enough to move. When you're safe for transport, we've been called to the headquarters in Port Moresby to meet with Director Schuester."
"What do you think will happen?"
"I have no clue," Santana said honestly. "All we need right now is for you to get better, okay? Being excellent at being impromptu doesn't make you invincible, and you're more bandage than flesh right now. Just... try to relax."
"Can I see him?" Kurt asked, and Santana didn't need clarification.
"Hell, no," she said immediately, making Kurt's heart sink. "He, however, is up and walking around and can see you." As if he could hear them, Blaine walked in the door, smiling. Embarrassingly, Kurt's heart sped up on the monitor, making Santana laugh. "I'll give you two a few minutes."
It was as Santana left that Kurt realized his senses had returned to normal. His ears were no longer super thanks to sleeper ears, and the colors of the world had been righted with the removal of his x-ray contacts. No more gadgets would be necessary for a long time, he hoped.
"Hi," Kurt said as Blaine walked in, still smiling wide enough to make Kurt's heart pound. "This heart monitor is embarrassing me," he said, since Blaine didn't seem inclined to say anything. He looked equally as stunning in dark jeans and a gray v-neck shirt, curls loose and semi-gelled, looking at Kurt like he was the best thing in the world.
As soon as Blaine reached him, he leaned over and kissed Kurt softly. "Hi there, beautiful."
Kurt laughed. "You cannot think I'm beautiful right now," he objected. "As Santana oh-so-helpfully pointed out, I'm more bandage than skin!"
"It doesn't matter," Blaine said, shaking his head and taking Kurt's hand. "You're still beautiful and... amazing and brave and..." Blaine chuckled. "Idiotic should also be added to the list. Crazy. Reckless."
"This isn't sounding very grateful," Kurt said with a teasing smile, but Blaine kissed him again in response.
"I will never be able to vocalize how grateful I am," he murmured, so close that they were sharing breath. "Even if I memorize the dictionary in thirty languages."
"That's very poetic," Kurt said in reply.
"Thank you," was all Blaine said before they were kissing again, and Kurt's heart monitor was humiliating.
A/N: Yay! They all survived! Since I'm in a *fantastic* mood today, and I am remembering to post, I am posting this chapter and the epilogue (which is a mini-chapter) together, so that's it for this story! I hope you guys all enjoyed, especially ashwitaashok/thunderwhenitrains, who prompted this.
Reviews are Love.