Blaine had just pulled into Sebastian's driveway when a silver Chevy came hurdling down the street, out of control.
"Holy crap!" Finn yelled, catching a glimpse of a person in the backseat. "It's Kurt!"
Blaine threw the engine into reverse, and Quinn leaned forward in anticipation.
They flew behind the car, heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot, watched in horror as it spun into a tree and flipped over. They Blaine slammed on the brake and projected himself out of the car, sprinting as fast as he could to the wreckage.
"Call 9-1-1!" he barked at Finn, who hastily dialed. His voice trembling, he shouted into the receiver.
"Kurt Hummel was kidnapped, and we just found him! They crashed into a tree!" Finn shouted into the receiver.
Blaine crouched down beside the car and saw a motionless body in the backseat, almost crushed by the seats. Saw the impeccable hairline, the bruises, the broken nose. And the bullet hole in his chest.
"Kurt!" Blaine cried, and pushed through the shattered window, scraping his arm on the glass and ripping his polo. He grabbed for Kurt's pale hand, but could not reach.
He didn't hear the wails of the ambulance as they rushed to the site. Yelled as they forced him away from the car, paramedics swarming the Chevy, pulling out two bodies; Kurt and Trent Wilcox.
Trent? Kind, helpful Trent was behind this? Blaine refused to accept it. An officer forced him firmly away from the scene. Blaine glared at him, but knew better than to fight a cop.
"I need to know what's happening," Blaine shouted loudly. "Please! Let me come!"
The officer watched him with a touch of affinity. "Fine," he sighed, and Blaine hurried forward. He saw them carry Kurt's stretcher into the ambulance, and without hesitation, climbed aboard.
Rory stumbled out of their car. "Blaine?" he called.
"I don't think they can hear you," suggested Puck.
Quinn hoisted herself into the drivers seat, and they silently pulled away.
Rory, Quinn, Finn, and Puck silently drove back to Lima Heights. Once they had entered McKinley, they sprinted for the choir room, where the rest of the club sat in silence.
"We found Kurt," Quinn announced as they crossed the threshold.
"And how is he?" Mr. Schue eyed all of their tense faces.
"We don't know." Rory answered softly.
He was dead. Wasn't he? Everything was dark, and faint chatter reached his ears as though he was underwater.
The bullet had hit him in the chest! He must be dead!
If he was dead, why did he hurt so much? His eyelids seemed to weigh a ton, but they fluttered open.
Kurt woke up to a roomful of people. His father. Carol. Blaine. Mercedes. Finn. Mr. Schue. So many. They swam in front of him, blurry, indistinguishable. Memories danced across his muddled mind. Sandwiches. Scripts. State attorneys. Guns, crowbars, blood, beatings. He couldn't make sense of anything.
Why wasn't he dead?
"Kurt, sweetheart," Carol whispered. "We're so happy to have you back." He felt a drop of something wet on his forehead
Burt just stared at him, as though he could never get enough. "My Kurt," he mumbled, his voice husky with emotion.
Suddenly Blaine was there, and Kurt was under his arm, safe and warm, and for an instant, his pain disappeared.
But only for an instant. A moan escaped Kurt's lips as the bruises suddenly burned, the wound in his chest seared with pain, and his head felt like it had been split open. Which it might have. He slipped into unconsciousness once more. He hoped for death.
He had no idea how long he lied in that hospital bed, vaguely aware of a tube feeding his arms, occasionally feel a faint kiss on his cheek, his lips, his hand. But his eyes would not open, and his body would not move. Heavy bandages enveloped his chest.
When Kurt woke up again, truly, most of the people were gone. He felt a light pressure on his hand.
Kurt tried to turn his head, but a mess of tubes and straps held him in place. Yes, he was fastened to the bed with thick cords around his waist and his elbows.
"Relax, Kurt," a gentle voice said, and squeezed his fingers. "You're safe now. Nobody's gonna hurt you."
The words, while comforting, brought an avalanche of memory and pain smashing down on him, crushing him like the car roof.
He lifted a heavy hand with more tubes taped on it. Stitches and bandages lay thickly under his shirt where he knew the bullet from Sebastian's gun had pierced him.
"The bullet hit you right above the heart," Blaine said softly. "It punctured your lung, Kurt. But here you are." Blaine's eyes stung. "Here you are."
Kurt tried to answer, but his voice wouldn't properly.
"Is he awake?" Kurt heard his father's voice and lifted his hand in greeting.
"Kurt," Burt breathed. "Kurt, buddy, I've missed you so much."
Kurt wanted to cry again as his dad put his arms carefully around his shoulders so as not to dislocate the tubes. "Kurt, it's okay. That Wilcox kid died in the crash. You don't have to worry about him anymore."
"Trent?" asked Kurt loudly. Now his voice worked. "Trent didn't do anything!" he rasped.
"Hey," Blaine said tenderly. "I know you're in shock, and you must be really confused right now, okay? Just don't think. Everything is fine."
"Everything is NOT FINE!" screamed Kurt. A handful of concerned nurses rushed in.
"Yes it is," Burt was confused. "Kurt, your kidnapper is dead and everything is okay and safe."
"NO IT ISN'T!" Kurt's face was red. "Because Trent didn't kidnap me. Sebastian Smythe did." he felt a shiver run through his spine as the reality sunk in.
Blaine sputtered, "WHAT?" and Burt just looked confused.
"Kurt, they found you in that car, all beat up and in that uniform with that boy in the front seat, we all knew it was him. We didn't see any other boys in that car."
"Then he escaped," Kurt whispered, fear dilating in his eyes. "He got away and he's gonna come back, Dad, he's gonna come back."
Burt and Blaine exchanged a look, and Burt excused himself to have a talk with Boo.
"Kurt, Sebastian is never going to lay a finger on you again." Blaine said determinedly. "I'll make sure of that."
"He's never going to give up until I'm dead," Kurt whirled his finger through the I.V. tube in distress. "I'm gonna die. He's going to kill me, Blaine!"
Blaine eyed the bruises, the haunted look on Kurt's face, the broken nose, the now ashen complexion.
"He'll get to you over my dead body," Blaine promised. "That awful boy can't hide for long. You'll be okay," he stroked Kurt's cheek.
Kurt tried to smile, but doubted that he would ever truly forget what had happened. Wouldn't stop looking over his shoulder until Sebastian was dead. Would never recover from the things Sebastian had done.
A/N: I can't believe Sebastian is good now! At least he's malevolent here.
A shout out to BitterSweetDeceit! You reviewed everything as you read along and you are amazing!
And if I spontaneously reply to your review, ignore me. I do this sometimes.
Prologue tomorrow! then Part 2! Please review!