A.N. Oh, all you wonderful people who kept me happy during my week of sickness with your kind reviews! Thank you, I am so glad folk are enjoying this take on Mr King's masterpiece. I've been taking parts of both the movie and book in terms of dialogue which is necessary but also a little restrictive. The most fun I have is writing Kurt and Blaine, not so much Kurt and Blaine in Misery's set up. So hopefully I'll enjoy writing the next chapter so much more as Blaine is like a frickin' yo-yo! So heads up! Get ready to say farewell to nice!Blaine. Also, I think my next update will be an entirely new fic - either Funny Games 2 or Batman Seeking Robin.

Replies:

Lia94: I know which scene you're referring to! I would really like to focus on the drug and mental manipulation but there will be physical stuff thrown in too just to mess with Kurt when he's perhaps emotionally stronger. But as for that scene...Well, it hasn't been fully decided but I have an idea on how to handle it without it being just... You know. ;)

Gleek10660: I've written fics in the past where I've focused a great deal on other characters and it does suck some fun out of writing as I mainly just want to write Klaine scenes, so for this fic I don't plan to use other characters unless it's pivitol to the story. So, as you say, Santana's search is to let you know that those in Kurt's life are taking notice and action, and Archie will appear occasionally but mostly to give a better picture of Blaine's nasty history. Haha hopefully I'll manage to keep up creepy Blaine - the original character in the book is one of the most terrifying I've ever read so I'd love to twist Blainers into that!

SpecsO-O: That's what I was going for! I'd like Blaine to excuse some of Kurt's behaviour because of his tie-in with Darcy and also create another thread of reason behind his unnatural obsession with Kurt and his...touching of him. I don't think Blaine will ever forget they are different but he still wants Kurt and wants Darcy so they will cross over, I think. Anything you think I should skip from the original plotline?

The First Crack

'Blaine?'

'Yes?'

'What day is it today?'

Blaine didn't answer straight away. His eyes were trained on Kurt's left shin which was bare and free from bandages for that moment as a fresh layer was being prepared. 'Today? Uh...Wednesday.' A loud ripping sound attacked the air; cellotape was stretched out over the width of the lower leg and then carefully placed over the cotton wrappings.

Kurt shook his head despite his doctor not looking in the right direction. 'I mean date. What date is it?'

'The twenty-fouth.'

Kurt shut his eyes. He squeezed, but the tears still formed. Dammit...God Fucking Dammit! He twisted his head to the side and glared at the pointed corner of the bedside table. He cursed the world he was living in, then cursed the bed he was lying in, and finally cursed the offending calender on the wall by the window which had kept him awake the night before when the thought first occurred to him.

At hearing his patient stifle a sobbing gasp, Blaine dropped his first aid items and swiftly came straight to Kurt's side. 'Hey, hey...' He said softly, his hand cradling Kurt's head. 'What's the matter? Shh...tell me.'

Kurt shook his head roughly and the hand in his hair was forced away. His reddening eyes glared at every object in the room as he tried to rid himself of some of the upset by transforming it into anger. Breaths came hard and deep but in no way even. 'My dad,' He started, 'It's his birthday today.'

Blaine was quiet.

'Every year since my mom died I have given him a homemade card and baked him apple pie, and every year he acts surprised and we celebrate from the second we wake up til the second we shut our eyes to go to sleep.' Kurt rubbed at his face with his good hand and then kept it over his eyes, blocking out the world. 'And this year? He's gonna spend the whole day wondering where the hell his only son is. Wondering why his reliably predictable son would pull a vanishing act. Wondering if he's lying dead somewhere. God, it will kill him... I-If I could just tell him or Santana, speak to them, let them know they don't need to worry.'

An arm snaked around his shoulder and he felt something light lean on the side of his head. The warm breath which then ghosted over his ear lobe gave him strong reason to believe Blaine's lips were almost touching him. It was a distraction Kurt did not appreciate in his moment of anguish. Discomfort now rocked him in new ways. 'Try not to get worked up about it.' Blaine advised. 'Listen, why don't you write down their numbers and I'll keep trying the phone lines? They'll start operating again any day now.'

His chest feeling constricted, Kurt calmed his breathing and used his nodding as a method for distancing his skin from Blaine's mouth. Blaine, who was only trying to help. 'Thank you,' He uttered sincerly. A few minutes later, Blaine took a pen and notebook from Kurt's hands and ripped free the page with two telephone numbers written on it. He folded the page three times and tucked it into his back pocket. 'Aren't you going to try them now?' Kurt asked, only slightly concerned for his lack of gratitude and perhaps his pushiness.

Blaine smiled. He walked over to the head of Kurt's bed and took his patient's chin in his fingers. 'I will.' He stated, his hazel eyes gazing down into Kurt's wide blue ones, 'Right after I finish seeing to you. You're stomach wrappings are overdue a change and you are overdue some Novril.'

Kurt bit his lip in guilt. Surely the telephone could wait til after he had taken his medication...

The sting of missing his father's birthday waned a little over the following few days. Blaine was confident the phone lines would be back at any moment, they just had to be patient. Oddly enough, for someone who was physically restricted and with not much to do, Kurt found himself surprisingly very patient. Except during the last few minutes before he was due another two Novril capsules, of course, as by then the pain in his body would be excruiciating. It would wake him from his sleep and Saint Blaine never once complained when Kurt's groans acted as an alarm clock, forcing him out of his bed in order to supply the next fix.

That was why the first time Blaine came in with the pills without Kurt being aware it was time already was a breakthrough. He had smiled up at the amused doctor as he obediently swallowed, then proceeded to explain 'I must be healing up. The pain was just starting when you came in.'

'Well aren't you just the perfect little patient,' With a playful smirk, Blaine set the glass of water back on the bedside table and studied Kurt's lying form. 'Perhaps I should lower the dosage.'

Shaking his head, Kurt became sheepish. 'I...Not yet. Will you give me more time to enjoy these longer periods of almost-pain-free bliss?'

Blaine's lips turned up in a strange manner. Kurt couldn't quite place the feeling behind it - it was like pride mixed with... - but the nod which followed put Kurt's mind at ease. 'I think you might also be fit enough to finally be weaned back onto coffee.' Kurt felt like dreams were coming true. Pitiful, pathetic dreams of a hopeless bed-ridden man, but they were coming true nonetheless. And Blaine was like the bringer of goodness. Any thoughts and doubts of his carer seemed to fly out the window and bury themselves beneath the three feet of snow.

When Blaine returned with a steaming cup of deliciousness, Kurt was enraptured. The coffee was dark caramel coloured and his good hand reached out to take it. But Blaine stayed out of reach. Kurt almost whimpered but managed to control himself. He stared up at Blaine, confused. Please don't be changing your mind, not now, not after showing it to me- 'Wh-what is it? Is something wrong?'

Standing in a somewhat awkward stance, Blaine flushed. His eyes glanced to his side and Kurt finally noticed that whilst in one hand the doctor held his mug of coffee, his other hand held onto something surprisingly more valuable: His satchel. 'I, uh...' He floundered in an uncharacteristically flustering manner. 'Y-you know, it doesn't matter, it's stupid.' He began to turn away.

'Wait!' Kurt said purely out of instinct as the mug turned away with him. Please, Blaine, please just give it to me... 'C'mon, you can tell me.'

Nervously the older man looked back, a stray curled strand of hair falling over his eye. 'It's just... When I found you I also found your bag. And...well, your manuscript,' He was growing pinker by the second. It was sort of fascinating. 'Forget it, I'm sorry for snooping.'

Kurt blinked. He had practically forgotten about the manuscript. His violent crime thriller he had spent the best part of the last year drooling over popped back into his head as if he had suddenly remembered that there was one big fat chocolate chip cookie still uneaten in the cookie jar. 'Don't be stupid, without you my satchel would be under ten feet of snow by now,' Along with my car... 'You should feel free to look inside. I'm not mad.'

Blaine looked relieved. A smile broke out across his handsome face and he took a step forward again. The mug was still out of reach but it was closer! 'I found it right next to you in the wreckage so I figured it must have been important to you. It's just when I was moving it around yesterday the flap came away and your work fell out. It's a good thing you secured it otherwise it would be in an orderly mess.' Blaine laughed lightly and Kurt understood he was still a little apprehensive but he was more concerned with the utter lie which he had just heard. His trust satchel was old, sure, but the flap didn't have a habit of just 'coming away'. On the contrary, it was remarkably stubborn to open. From the look of it, the clasp was not broken and there was no tearing from the accident. Kurt remained politely silent even when he understood that Blaine had indeed 'snooped'. Didn't Blaine deserve a little credit, after all he's done for him?

'Yeah, I guess that is lucky.' Kurt laughed back purely to be a gentleman.

Blaine's expression relaxed and he gradually approached him. The mug was carefully passed into Kurt's eager hands and Blaine sat on the edge of the mattress with the bag perched delicately on his lap. 'What are you going to call it?'

Lost in the auroma of the coffee, Kurt took a second to figure out what his carer was referring to. 'Oh, the book?' He shrugged. 'Currently it's untitled. I'm just relieved to have finally completed it, committed it all to paper.' He noticed the way Blaine's warm eyes gazed down at the satchel in surpressed awe and that he was licking his lips a little. Kurt understood what he wanted. 'You know,' He started slowly, gaining the older man's attention, 'You could give it a look through,maybe help me decide what it's about and even help me come up with a name.' He shrugged, 'If you wanted to.'

Eye lighting up like Christmas trees, Blaine bashfully stumbled over himself as he formed a response. 'Oh, Kurt, I couldn't!' He laughed as if Kurt had graced him with the secret to life. The satchel was lovingly stroked and then timidly left at the foot of the bed. Kurt watched in half amusement, half concern as Blaine wrung his hands and took a few steps back. 'I couldn't,' He repeated. 'I don't deserve that. Not really.' Biting his lip in a second wave of hesitation, he took a small step forward again. 'Even if I was, I'd be better off waiting until Darcy's Dwelling is released so I'm not skipping ahead.'

Kurt gave a firm clearing of his throat as he took a sip of his coffee. It was the perfect blend of milk, sugar and a sneaky dash of sweet cinnamon; just the way he likes it. Only he could make it like this normally, which is why it disturbed him to know Blaine got it right on the first go. Distracted by his drink, he flippantly replied 'Don't worry about that. That one there isn't connected to the series. It's something new I'm trying out.'

'It's not a Darcy Brown novel, then?' Blaine's voice was bordering on accusative, whilst also sounding like a small disappointed child being told that his dessert for the evening would not be the glorious ice cream sundae he had been expecting but rather a dry bowl of fruit. Against his will, a pang of guilt cut through Kurt's insides. If only his conscience were a little easier on him.

'I'm afraid not.'

After giving a brief look of judgemental disappointment (which caused Kurt to feel even more guilty), Blaine chewed his bottom lip as his eyes carefully considered the satchel. 'Well...I love your books, and I love your whole way of writing.' At last he threw a pleased grin Kurt's way. 'I can't believe I get to read a Kurt Hummel book first. Me!' He quickly snatched the manuscript up into his arms again and cradled it like a baby. 'Before the publishing company too!'

Kurt tried to feel his excitement and show a sense of shared joy, and for the most part he acted well. 'I apologise in advance for any typos and errors. I'm afraid I've been spoilt with so many people paid to tidy up my hasty scribblings.'

Blaine was already waving his words away like pesky flies. 'Kurt, don't even bother. I'm going to love it. I love everything you do. I love you-' He looked up and met Kurt's stare. The last of his statement hung in the air and Kurt's heart seemed to stop beating in dreaded anticipation. Then, as if fingers had clicked in front of his eyes breaking him out of a trance, Blaine finished with 'your way of putting remarkable feelings into writing.' Kurt was excused from reacting as Blaine flourished out of the room in a blaze of excitement.

Virginia watched mostly in amusement as her husband tumbled down the snow dune. Had the height of the snow not been so great she may have worried about him hurting himself but she was certain the worst that could happen was that he could be stuck waist-deep and need her to toss down a rope. Hiding a grin, she secretly hoped it would happen.

Archie threw her a dirty look as if reading her thoughts the moment he had got his footing. His wife stood up by the roadside where they had seen a collection of broken branches by the edge. Their mountain search for clues regarding the famous young author's disappearence had not started with much by way of hunches. The writer was seen driving away from Silver Creek Lodge but after that, nothing. Nada. They had taken the same route Hummel would have taken and this section of road was the only suspicious part between the lodge and town. The lack of railing meant that snapped branches and unnatural lumps in the frozen whiteness were all they could go on. So here he was, almost breaking his neck to get a good look at a potential crash sight.

'See anything?' Virginia called. Archie pretended he couldn't hear her - a favourite pasttime of his - and waded through the snow. 'Ar-chie!'

'No!' He called back, frustrated at her 'I told you so' expression. His gloved hand dug deep and sent small blizzards of white powder into the air. He took another step and then disappeared. It took a moment for him to realise he had just fallen about a foot and only his hat protuded from the snow. He heard his wife howl in laughter.

Right! Enough! Embarrassed, he scrambled backwards and managed to find something hard like a rock or sturdy frozen tree branch to step on. He flung himself up and didn't stop until he was free from the quicksand deathtrap. He was ready for his wife's sarcastic remark which would no doubt be at the ready but instead he got a rough tap on the head as a long line of thick rope was tossed down to him. He stubbornly took it without thanks and he felt himself be hoisted up the hill again as his wife drove the car the rope was tied to away from the edge. She stopped when he was about three feet away from the top. It was just like her to make him do the last hurdle alone.

When he was up off his knees, covered head to toe in white flakes, Archie stormed to the car. His wife gave him a casual once over and then put the car back into gear. 'Well, you tried.' She muttered, a smirk playing on her lips.

Archie ignored her and stared out his window. A pick-up truck was passing by. By the looks of it the young man driving it - although no Kurt Hummel - was not a local from the town. Still, the truck looked appropriate to the mountainous region they were in. 'Hmm,' He twitched his moustach between his fingertips. 'Another stranger to these parts. Lucky for him the storm has passed for now.'

Beside him, his wife snorted. 'Honestly, Arch, get over yourself. He lives up this way. Just because you don't know him doesn't make him a stranger to 'these parts'. You old man, you...'

Archie turned in his seat and caught sight of the Colorado license plate. Again, not one he recalled seeing in town, and he considered himself gifted with a photographic memory. There was something not quite right about this young man's presence in Silver Creek without his knowing about it before now. After he finished dealing with this missing writer's case, he might just look into it.

Kurt knew something was wrong.

Between nodding off to sleep the night before and waking up the following morning (aside from the half-conscious swallowing down of Norvil at some point) something had happened. And for the life of him, Kurt could not figure out what it was. After bidding his doctor a good morning, Kurt had asked his normal question of the telephones status. Unlike mornings before, Blaine did not sigh and apologetically inform him of it's continued lack of power and assure him that he'd have better news soon enough. That morning Blaine just promptly said 'It's out.' It was the first time he had really been anything less than doting.

Blaine also did not spend as much time with his patient, busying himself with some general house tidying outwith Kurt's bedroom. It wasn't until lunchtime that the reason came out. Kurt could handle feeding himself with simple meals like sandwiches but with the likes of soup two strong steady hands were needed to prevent scaulding and spillages. Blaine quietly brought the spoon tomato soup to Kurt's mouth over and over, and for a good while Kurt believed that there would be no conversation to accompany it. It would have been a welcomed change had it not been so utterly out of the norm. However, the silence broke as Blaine let the silver spoon linger on Kurt's bottom lip. 'I know I'm only a few pages into your book, but...'

Eyebrows rising with interest, Kurt shifted himself up a little. 'But what?'

Blaine's eyes flitted up to his and then looked down again as he shook his head. His apprehension was quite cute. Not that Kurt would admit to thinking it. 'Nothing.'

'No, no,' Kurt offered an encouraging smile. 'What is it?' Call it pathetic - as Kurt certainly did - but it was sort of enthralling to perhaps be due some feedback on his most recent work. Especially when that feedback did not seem to be glowing. He wondered if Blaine's behavior had been off all because he didn't like something about the story. It seemed a silly reason but Kurt was going with it. What could his 'number one fan' find so unappealling? He was eager to know.

Blaine lifted his shoulders up and shook his head as he gave a short burst of humorless laughter. 'I-It's ridiculous! Who am I to make a criticism to someone like you?'

'I assure you, Blaine, I can take it.' Kurt promised. After some of the things Santana Lopez put him through in the editorial process over the years, he could handle anything.

Blaine let the bowl in his hands fall to his lap. He looked down at the soup and then slowly turned his stare up to Kurt. 'Well, it's brilliantly written, but then everything you write is brilliant-'

'Please, stop,' Kurt grinned as he feigned a pain in his chest, 'You're being too harsh-!'

'It's the swearing, Kurt.' The sharp tone caught the young writer offguard and his amused grin faltered as Blaine scraped the spoon across the bowl, chasing the soup with a little more force than necessary. 'There.' He huffed, 'I said it.'

Kurt remained passively silent as he watched a newly riled Blaine fight to fill another spoonful of liquid towards Kurt's mouth. Kurt took it and swallowed it immediately. Funny, he thought, he had never considered the cruder language choices he made in his story to be a point of irritation. 'The, uh, profanity bothers you?' He asked kindly. Be understanding, Kurt, smile but don't make it seem like you find it amusing. Understanding.

Blaine dropped the spoon into the bowl with a clatter. His direct stare was not warm, his hazel eyes took on a cooler, pointier form. It pinned Kurt's shoulders to the pillow propping him up. 'It has no nobility.' Blaine snapped.

No nobility? He wasn't sure he really understood. You wrote it, you know the characters so of course you see the nobility. He cleared his throat and kept his expression relaxed and kindly. 'Well, Raymond was a slum kid. He grew up a slum kid. Nowadays practically everyone talks like that in-'

'They do not!' Blaine fired back so fast and so furiously that Kurt was at once stunned into silence. The taller man stood up, only just holding onto the bowl of soup before it could fall to the floor. 'I grew up in a city and I didn't talk like that. And what do you think I say when I go to the feed store in town, Kurt, hmm? 'Hey, Gary, give me a bag of that effing chicken feed and five pounds of that bitchy corn!', a-and what do you think he says to me? 'Oh sure, coming right effing up!'

Kurt held up his hand uselessly, stuttering out for Blaine to calm down and to try and put across that of course he didn't mean- But Blaine kept going. His hand was shaking now and the soup was spilling onto the quilt right by Kurt's slinged up arm. Kurt could do nothing but pull back in fear as far as he could. What was happening?

'Or what about in the bank, do I tell Mrs Bollinger 'Here's one big bastard of a cheque, give me some Christing money!'? You think when they put me up there on that stand in Denv-' Blaine's hand was now shaking so bad the bowl was practically slipping out of his grasp. Almost all of the soup was now a puddle on the bed and Blaine's flared up eyes saw it. 'Look! Look what you made me do!'

Kurt whimpered. 'I-I'm sorry-'

'Sure you are!'

With that, Blaine hurled the bowl across the room. It smashed against the corner on the side of the door and as the leftover soup splattered like a bloody mess on the walls, the clay pieces of the bowl fell to the floor. Kurt cowered, frozen in place with his wide eyes unable to process what had just happened. He only moved his eyes back up to Blaine, too scared to even breathe. Blaine was staring at the wall in utter shock, as if confused as to how it got in such a state. A long period of silence followed. Kurt only became aware of how many seconds passed when his chest throbbed in aching notions from lack of air. At last, Blaine swallowed and blinked. He slowly turned his shakey attention back to Kurt. 'Kurt, I...' He took in the younger man's scared face and his own crumbled in sorrow. 'Oh, Kurt, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.' Kurt jumped when his good hand was taken by Blaine's. Two strong sets of fingers gripped him tightly and held his hand close to Blaine's lips. 'S-sometimes I get so worked up and... Could you ever forgive me?'

The warmth of Blaine's eyes had returned and were almost tearful. His voice lost, Kurt forced himself to nod. Yes, yes, you need to say yes - Speak, dammit! 'Yes... It's fine.' His voice was so small and weak it would barely have passed for a whisper. But it was enough. Blaine offered an apologetic smile and stroked his fingers affectionately.

Somehow managing to stop himself from shaking, Kurt even managed to smile in return. Blaine spoke a little more but then was quick to excuse himself to get a washcloth to take care of the mess he made. However, the second he was gone Kurt let out the panicked pants he had held back. Denver. That's what Blaine was going to say before he noticed the soup. He was put on up on the stand in Denver. Court. Blaine did something.

Oh fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I knew it. I knew it from the start. He's dangerous, shit, he's gonna hurt me. I don't know if he'll mean to but he will. He's gonna hurt me.

A.N. Yes, he is, Kurt. Yes, he is. Sorry. Spoiler Alert! Not much of a spoiler, though. Please let me know your thoughts!