A/N Thank you for all the follows on this story, I am glad you all are enjoying it. This has been a hard chapter to write, so I hope I don't disappoint anyone. It's a Little shorter than the other chapters.

I edited chapters two and three this morning, corrected a few typos, and missed words.

Reviews are always appreciated.

After

Four days, 17 hours, thirty nine minutes,and nineteen seconds ago, he had been the happiest he had ever been in his life. Now he couldn't even remember what that felt like. He was numb. He had no idea who he was anymore. He didn't know how he was supposed to move forward from this.

He hadn't spoken a word since that softly whispered name after waking from sedation. Before the memories had returned. His throat was swollen, and there had been some damage, but the doctors weren't sure yet how bad, or if it was permanent or not. He hadn't been able to keep any food down. Not that he had tried to eat very much. He still had the IV in his hand to keep him hydrated, so they weren't too concerned about him not eating yet. They kept him sedated most of the time. Just enough to keep him calm, not necessarily to make him sleep.

His Dad was there most of the time, but Kurt couldn't look at him. Carole and Finn were there a lot, too, but again, he didn't look at them. The girls had come back after school on Monday. He did look at Mercedes. She sobbed and begged him to forgive her for leaving him alone. He'd hugged her, wiped her tears, but hadn't spoken. It had been enough though. She'd seemed calmer when she left.

The police had come to talk to him Sunday night. He'd written a statement for them. The handwriting hadn't look like his. It had been messy, uneven. When he tried to write what Karofsky had done to him, had forced him to do, he lost it. He'd had a full blown panic attack, and tried to vomit again, but his stomach had been empty. He'd almost dislodged the IV. He had managed to knock over the stand with the monitors on it before they'd gotten him sedated again.

Right now he was alone. Carole had urged Burt to at least go and get something to eat. He didn't want to be alone, didn't want to think about what had happened, but he also didn't want everyone looking at him.

A nurse came in with a lunch tray, smiling sweetly at him. "Hi, cutie. The Doc wants you to try and eat something again. He's ordered a B.R.A.T. tray for you until they know how much damage there is to your throat."

He ignored her. Didn't even look at the food. The nurse wasn't even perturbed. "You know why they call it a brat tray, right?" She didn't seem to notice that he didn't really care, straightening his sheets and moving the swinging table closer to the bed. "They call it a brat tray because most of the time it's for small kids who are too sick to eat anything else, and they end up throwing it on the floor like a brat."

Kurt managed a frown, a pale shadow of his usual Bitch, Please face. She laughed at him. "Okay, B.R.A.T. Stands for bananas, rice, applesauce and toast, although no toast for you just yet. Doc didn't want to chance anything even remotely solid. So you have over cooked rice, chicken broth, applesauce, a banana, and some tapioca pudding. Oh, and strawberry jello."

Kurt continued to ignore her, but she just seemed to take it in stride, checking the monitors and IV line, and asking if he needed to use the restroom. "By the way, I'm Amelia. Just ring the nurses' station if you need anything."

As she was heading to the door, it opened, revealing Blaine. Amelia smiled warmly. "Oh, hello. I was just leaving, so he's all yours. Try and get him to eat something." She glanced back at Kurt, winked and stage whispered, "He's a hottie! You should snag him up before someone else does!"

After the door closed behind her, Kurt slowly lifted his eyes to the hazel eyed boy. Kurt wasn't sure how to feel. He knew that Blaine had been the one who he'd blindly dialed that night. Knew that Blaine had heard everything. Blaine KNEW what had been done to him. Blaine had been the one to call the police.

What would the handsome boy think about him now? He had hoped that their friendship had been turning into something more, but did Blaine still want that now? Or would he think Kurt was tainted somehow? Would he start backing off, until even the friendship crumbled and faded away?

It broke Blaine's heart to see those beautiful eyes dimmed, dulled by horror and the sedatives they used to keep him relatively calm, and in higher doses to keep the nightmares at bay. He smiled shyly as he moved closer to the bed.

"How are you feeling today?"

Kurt didn't answer, just continued to look at him. Blaine sat down in the chair, and carefully took the fair skinned boy's hand, not certain if his touch would be allowed. When the other boy didn't pull away, he squeezed lightly.

"I heard the doctor tell your Dad that there was some swelling in your throat. You don't have to try and talk to me. I'm just so happy you're alive and safe." Kurt blinked, seemed to be trying to hold back tears. Instinctively he reached out to brush the older boy's cheek. "I was so scared when I heard what was happening. I wished so much that I could have been there to protect you from him.

Kurt reached out with his free hand to place it over the other boy's mouth, shaking his head. He reached for a notebook on the side table.

Not your fault. He wrote.

Blaine smiled weakly. "I know, but it just seemed so unfair that you were alone."

I wasn't alone. You were there, even if only on the phone.

It was Blaine's turn to cry now. He wiped the tears away and cleared his throat. "So, um, do you want to try and eat something?"

Kurt shook his head rapidly.

"You need to eat, you don't want them to think you're anorexic."

The other boy just shook his head again, his eyes filled with some emotion Blaine couldn't discern. "Why not?"

Kurt hesitated before writing his response, hand shaking.

I can still taste Him.

Blaine almost choked when he read the words. He had to take a deep breath before he looked back up into those amazing blue eyes. He didn't know what to say. A thought struck him, but he wasn't sure he should act on it, didn't want to terrify the boy.

"Maybe I can help you?"

Bruised glasz eyes studied him warily for a moment, and then mouthed the word, "how?"

Very slowly Blaine leaned closer, taking his time, letting the frightened boy on the bed get used to the idea, hesitating a breath away, waiting to see if the other boy would pull away.

The kiss was light, barely there, sweet. Blaine pulled back a fraction, looking into that angel face, watching for some sign. Apparently finding what he was searching for, he leaned in again, this time lightly stroking his tongue over that pale pink bottom lip. Kurt sighed softly, parted his lips slightly, allowing Blaine's tongue to slide in briefly, stroking over the muscle there. He withdrew as slowly as he'd entered, and sat back.

"There, now you taste me. Think about that instead." He carefully reached over to the tray of food without looking away from Kurt's eyes and grabbed the first item he touched. Applesauce, perfect. He picked up the spoon and scooped up a small amount. Holding that cerulean stare, he brought the spoon to the lips he'd just kissed. Kurt hesitated for a moment before taking the bite.

He rolled the tangy sweet concoction over his tongue for a moment, then swallowed. It hurt, but it went down. Another spoonful was offered. This one went down a little easier. Soon the applesauce was replaced by the chicken broth, which was interspersed with bites of mushy rice.

...

By the time Blaine was feeding him the tapioca, Burt returned from his own lunch. He'd entered so silently, Neither boy noticed him right away. He paused, watching the curly haired boy feeding his son, reaching out tenderly to wipe a spot of pudding off of Kurt's chin. The gesture had seemed so intimate.

He also noticed the way Kurt was watching the prep school boy. His son had barely glanced at him since he woke up the first time, but he was looking at Blaine as if he was the last life preserver on a sinking ship.

"Do you want to try the jello?" The dark haired boy asked softly. Kurt shook his head no.

"He never really was a fan of jello," Burt commented, letting them know he was there. Kurt looked up at him, and for the first time since getting that phone call, Burt felt certain his son would be okay.

Kurt was released two days later. The swelling in his throat had lessened, though he still had trouble swallowing. His speaking voice was gradually returning, but there was still some question about whether he would be able to sing again. The doctor believed he would, but cautioned that he may have lost some of his vocal range. He was under orders not to attempt to sing until he had seen a specialist. Actually, he was told to speak as little as possible until then, as well.

As he walked into his room, he was surprised that it seemed so ordinary. He wasn't the same person that he had been the last time he had left this room. Why should the room still be the same? Shouldn't it feel like a stranger's room? But no, everything was just as he'd left it.

He went to the closet and found a pair of sweats and an oversized sweater, then gathered up the things he needed for bubble bath. He wanted to soak for hours. His left arm still hurt when he moved it too much. His shoulder had been dislocated when he'd been thrown at full force into the lockers, the wrist sprained from the bruising grip it had been held in.

They'd made him see a counselor before he'd left the hospital. She'd told him that victims often felt the need to shower and scrub repeatedly, but that wasn't what Kurt wanted. He just wanted the comforting warmth and to not think for a while.

They'd weened him off the sedatives the last few days, so his mind no longer seemed clouded, and so many thoughts had tried to rush in, all screaming for attention first. He sat in the tub and forced every thought away except one.

Blaine kissed me, and I liked it.

They hadn't talked about it, what it implied. Kurt knew he was clinging to the thought to keep the darker thoughts from overwhelming him. He wanted it to mean something, but what if Blaine had only done it to get him to eat? It had been an effective diversion, though the fact that Blaine had spoon fed him had more to do with it than the kiss. He'd eaten because Blaine wanted him to, and he wanted to make Blaine happy.

The handsome boy had returned the next day, and once more had fed him when they'd brought him a tray. Blaine had talked more about himself as he'd spooned up bits of creamed spinach, something that he thought was supposed to be mashed potatoes and gravy but tasted more like glue, and chocolate pudding for Kurt. He talked about his outrageous brother who was auditioning for a role on a new TV series about high school kids in a musical drama club. He'd talked about his parents, who still refused to understand that he was gay and kept trying to set him up with 'some nice girl.'

He'd even managed to make Kurt smile briefly when a nurse had been so taken with the dapper boy's good looks that she had flirted shamelessly. Blaine had been taken aback, and had been reduced to stammering. He was adorable when he was flustered.

A knock on the bathroom door drew him from his thoughts, and he realized he must have been in there for a long time, the water was almost cold. His Dad's voice called out softly. "You ok in there, Kurt?"

Kurt knocked on the side of the tub to let his Dad know he was alive still, and pulled the plug. He wrapped himself in a towel and went to the door, opening it a crack.

"I'm fine." His voice was hoarse, sounding like someone with strep throat.

Burt nodded and turned away, calling over his shoulder "Carole made you some tea, it's in your room. And she's making that cauliflower cheese soup you like for dinner. It'll be ready in an hour."

Kurt dried off and got dressed in his lay about outfit, then went back to his room to drink the tea. It felt good on his throat. He turned on his TV and DVD player combo, and slipped in the first disk he grabbed, not particular about what he watched, just wanting a distraction. As the intro to "Belle" began, a chime sounded, indicating a text message on his phone. He smiled softly seeing Blaine's picture on the screen.

Hope you are home safe. Miss you. Can I come by this evening? -B

Kurt didn't need to think twice before responding.

I miss you, too. Yes, please come over. -K

Blaine's reply came back almost as quickly.

I'm leaving in fifteen minutes. See you soon! -B

Kurt finished his tea, and had almost dozed off when Finn called out that dinner was ready. He didn't rush, slowly making his way downstairs to the dinning room. Burt was helping Finn set the table while Carole removed a tray of garlic bread from the oven and transferred it to a serving tray. She brought the platter over to the table and returned for the pot of soup. Everything was set, and Kurt felt a little guilty for not helping with anything. Friday night dinners were a big deal in the Hummel-Hudson house, and usually everyone pitched in, at least helping to set the table as Finn had.

Everyone sat down, smiling and chatting about their day. Carole was talking about a new patient they'd had, a little girl who had fell out of a tree trying to rescue her kitten. Burt talked about the lady who had come in to get her car fixed. The ditz had decided that vegetable oil would be an acceptable substitute for motor oil and had trashed her engine. Kurt listened, even smiling as if everything was normal. The soup was delicious. He'd even managed to nibble at a piece of the garlic bread and some of the salad.

Then Finn brought up school. "We had a substitute in World History today. Ms. Holliday. You remember her, Kurt? She asked about you. I told her about what happened. She said to say hi and hoped you were feeling better."

It had been such a simple comment. Innocent. Nothing out of the ordinary, but suddenly Kurt couldn't breathe. The food seemed to be trapped in his throat. He jumped up from the table and ran to the downstairs bathroom, barely making it to the porcelain bowl before vomiting.

I know, I keep leaving off with poor Kurt throwing up.

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