Blaine had no idea what to do.

He'd seen Sebastian shoot himself in the woods, and he'd sprinted away, the sun setting behind him. He was being stupid, he had to go back to Dalton and make sure everything was okay...

Kurt's frantic sobbing played over and over in his mind, and Blaine ran faster, harder, his lungs ready to burst. Terrible, terrible things had happened to everybody, and Blaine just didn't know what to do. He couldn't handle it.

He needed to get away from it all. So he'd run until the sky was black. Then it was tinged with yellow as dawn approached.

Through the sprawling woods, over desolate roads. He had no idea where he was, and nobody was around. His mind was blank, his face empty of emotion.

Blaine finally stopped to rest at a large rock. He leaned against it, the chilly air rattling his bones.

Suddenly, his situation sunk in. He was miles away from anybody, it was the middle of the night, people were probably looking for him. He'd left Kurt in his hour of need. He'd never run so far in his life.

Blaine didn't want to face Kurt again. He could barely stand the empty shell of him, and it was sure to be a hundred times worse now.

Sebastian had destroyed him, that much was clear. He'd broken him, and now Kurt was beyond repair.

Blaine closed his eyes, but the image of Kurt on his knees, begging Sebastian to kill him instead of Blaine, promising anything and everything if Blaine was spared, was tattooed into his eyelids.

"Auuuggghhh." he took a deep breath. Now he had to go back home and confront all of the demons. Face whatever was left of Kurt. He was terrified that he had lost Kurt forever.

Thunder crackled overhead, and Blaine swore viciously. Now how was he going to get home?

He was so exhausted and breathing so heavily. The thunder boomed and the trees rustled. Frustrated, he flailed his arms and catapulted off of the rock, stumbling blindly into the street.

He never heard the car flying down the dark road, a drunk driver sprawled dazedly behind the steering wheel, but suddenly he felt himself being slammed against the road. His head cracked against the pavement and he felt nothing at all.

Kurt knew that he'd been a mess. All he could remember of the past night was Blaine's glowing face and pink glitter, which probably hadn't been there.

When he opened his eyes and seemed truly awake, it was morning. The sun was rising steadily and peeped into his hospital room through the cheap blinds.

He was alone. The machines surrounded him, bearing down, beeping their evil beeps.

He lifted a hand to his face and saw the little Popsicle-stick-like boards that straightened them out. Oh. Right. They were broken.

He wanted a mirror. His hand wandered to a small bedside table, but it was bare. He did find a knob on his bed, and twisted it, which was no easy feat.

The front half of the bed shot up, and he was in a sitting position. His ribs burned, but otherwise he felt alright.

Wrinkling his brow, Kurt tried to think back to the last horrifying moments in the choir room. He'd been pleading on his bruised knees to have Sebastian spare Blaine's life. Had it worked?

Yes. Sebastian had shot Quinn. He took a shaky breath and continued browsing the memories. His own and what Burt had told him.

A foot. A foot kicking his head so hard. He suddenly felt the large bump throbbing painfully. At least he was still alive.

What had happened to Blaine? Kurt strained to remember. He vaguely recalled his father and Finn coming in. And Blaine. But his family had looked blurry to him, while Blaine was crystal clear and surrounded by glitter and mist. And always walking away from him, always had a cold, scornful look in his eyes that made Kurt tremble.

Was Blaine really here? Kurt wished he had a way of calling for someone. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

An unfamiliar man walked into his line of vision. "You woke up on your own?" he asked dubiously. "Impressive."

"Excuse me, who are you?" Kurt asked faintly. He was relieved to find out that his voice worked.

"I'm Dr. Dillard." the man said, and handed him a hand mirror, which Kurt promptly dropped. While light, it crashed against his healing ribs, and Kurt gave a small exclamation of pain.

"Oh. Sorry." said Dr. Dillard. He picked the mirror off of the bed and held it up to Kurt's face. As soon as he saw himself, Kurt wished he could forget it.

He looked terrible! His skin was dry, and his nose was swollen. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks were still sporting the tracks of tears that had dripped down them.

And that was just his face. Kurt closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down. Nobody expected him to be beautiful right now. He was excused.

"You're actually doing very well." said Dr. Dillard, marking something on a clipboard. "You have a minor concussion and a few broken ribs that we really need to concentrate on. That's all the big injuries."

"That's all?" Kurt tried to joke, but it came out as more scared than sarcastic.

"Are you up to a visitor, now that you seem capable of thought again?" asked Dr. Dillard, examining him carefully.

"Who is it?" Kurt asked immediately.

"Your father requested to see you when you woke up again."

Kurt sighed. "I guess so." He was slightly embarrassed to see him after what had happened the last time Burt had talked to him.

Then he remembered what he had done when Sebastian had threatened to kill Blaine. His cheeks burned with humiliation as he recalled the image of himself clinging to Sebastian's feet, begging and pleading for him to spare Blaine. He cringed. The rest of the Glee club would have that image in their minds when they saw him. Not to mention the Fight Clubbers and the Warblers.

"Hey, Kurt." said Burt uncertainly as he entered the room. Purple half-circles were drawn under his eyes. "Carole and I've been here all night. I came in a few hours ago, before you woke up. Did you know that you cry when you sleep?"

Kurt lowered his eyes and Burt wished he could stuff the words back into his mouth.

"Sorry, Kurt. I wanted to wake you up so bad, just to get you to stop sobbing." Burt kept on talking. "What were you dreaming about?"

Kurt didn't remember dreaming anything. He shrugged weakly.

Burt sighed and walked over to the stool beside Kurt's bed. "Kurt, I let you down yesterday at Dalton."

Kurt stared at a tube in his arm, looking anywhere but at his father.

"Those kids were just...they were kids! And I let them walk all over me, and I couldn't go and help you. Boy, did I want to. I've never seen you like that."

Kurt winced again. He wanted to erase that moment from history.

"And then I came in last night. You were awake. Do you remember it?"

Kurt thought for a minute. "Not really. Sort of."

Burt sighed heavily. "Kurt, I have to tell you something. But you can't go crazy on me."

Kurt finally looked up. "What happened?" he asked quickly.

"Can you handle it?" pressed Burt.

He watched Kurt's heart rate monitor. It was rapidly increasing its pulse.

"Just tell me what happened." Kurt closed his eyes.

Burt braced himself. "Sebastian Smythe is dead."

Kurt raised his eyebrows, "And...?"

"We still have no idea where Blaine is. We think he's dead." Burt watched the look on Kurt's face go from pained to horrified.

"Wha – I – he – " Kurt stammered, and it was so much worse for Burt to tell him again. Kurt was finally conscious, completely there, and Burt had to wonder where Kurt found enough water in that underweight body to conjure all of these tears. They filled up his eyes so that his pupils looked blurred.

"Kurt, I'm sorry." Burt gingerly lifted Kurt's back from the bed and wrapped his arms around him. "We don't know anything for sure yet!"

"Dad." Kurt cried despairingly. His stomach lurched and a hollow feeling filled him. "Dad, I – no – I mean – . I love him and I'd do anything for him, and he can't – he can't be dead, and – and – " he couldn't go on any more.

"Oh, Kurt," Burt squeezed him gently, remembering how he felt when his first wife had died. The heartbreak, the shock. He imagined all of that going through Kurt and understood the pain. He didn't want his son to go through that. He was so young...

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut. "Not a trace of him?" he managed.

Burt shook his head. "We don't know anything. Kurt, I'm sorry."

Kurt pulled away from him. "Can you give me a minute alone?" he asked quietly. "You can come back in in a second." His lower lip quivered.

Burt nodded and slipped out of the room.

When the door had closed, Kurt let himself sob openly into the bedsheets. Blaine was gone, gone, and nobody knew where he was. Sebastian was dead and Blaine was missing. He had to be dead. Dead!

How could Blaine be dead? Kurt wouldn't be lying here if Blaine hadn't saved him, hadn't volunteered to take the bullet for him. If Blaine hadn't comforted him, even on the brink of death, thought of nothing but Kurt.

"Where are you, Blaine?" Kurt choked. "Come back. Come back!"

He wiped his eyes and sank deeper into the bed. He lied there for a couple of minutes, shaking violently. He would rather face Sebastian a hundred times over than let Blaine just disappear.

Some time later, he remembered his father in the hallway and pressed the pillow into his face. It jabbed at his nose painfully, but rid his eyes of the tears. He didn't want his dad to see him cry. Burt was upset enough already.

"You can come back in, Dad," Kurt called quaveringly, and Burt reentered the room, noting the red, glistening eyes. He chose not to comment.

"I'm sure your Glee friends are going to come and visit you. Sergent Boo, too."

Kurt didn't want anybody to see him like this. Hadn't they already witnessed his meltdown at Dalton? He had shed enough tears for a lifetime.

He didn't want them to think that he was weak. But now everybody would. They didn't understand true love at all, that he would do anything for Blaine.

No, all they would see is a broken little boy crying and crying on the floor, begging on his knees for mercy. A weakling.

He wasn't that boy. Kurt was strong. Stronger than they thought, anyway.

Burt clapped a hand to Kurt's shoulder, and when Kurt cried out in pain, he quickly apologized.

"I know it's a lot to take in." Burt said as he walked out of the room. "Just...just don't quit on me now, Kurt. Just hold on."

Kurt's face was pinched as he watched his father leave. He wanted to run after him, down the hallway and out of the hospital, where, somewhere, Blaine waited for him.

His chest was heaving, and his body was wracked with unbearable pain. His ribs felt like they had been dipped in acid.

"Come back, Blaine." Kurt whispered into the silence, and he lifted his hands into the air, reaching for him. His hands were empty. Just like his heart. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out.

Miles away, in another hospital, in a different city, a black-haired boy woke up from a trance. His first thought was of the overwhelming pain. It engulfed his entire body, and he ached all over. His face was bandaged and the cuts stung underneath.

What had happened? He remembered a crushing sensation. Running away. From what? Why? At the moment, he remembered nothing as his legs burned with exhaustion.

"Mitch!" a shrill voice exclaimed as he opened his eyes. The room was brightly lit, and he was dressed in a light gown-like shirt.

He rubbed his eyes. "Where am I?"

A boy about thirteen years old was in his face. "Mitch, you're awake!" he cried ecstatically. "You were out for a walk and you got hit by a drunk driver."

Actually, Mitch had run away from home last night. He was on a bus to Cincinnati.

The boy in the bed felt odd. He had no idea who anybody was...who he was.

"Who am I?"

The boy clapped a hand to his mouth. "The doctors said you might have mild amnesia. Guess they were correct. I'll go get Nurse Gail!"

He waddled quickly out of the room.

Who was he? It was terrifying to be so oblivious.

A car crash, the boy had said. Why?

The boy and a nurse walked in a few minutes later. "Good morning, Mitch," she said gently. "Luke here told me you don't remember anything?"

He nodded uncertainly. "Um...who am I?"

"Your name is Mitch Icicle." she offered kindly. "I want you to rest now and get your strength up. Don't want to overload you with information, do we?"

She chuckled dryly and added, "If you have any urgent questions however, ask your little brother Luke."

Luke smiled as Nurse Gail left. "Hi, Mitch." he gazed adoringly at him. "You get hit by a car. You almost died. But here you are!"

Mitch didn't know what to say. He closed his eyes and tried to remember something, anything.

Nothing came to him. All of his memories had melted and been mixed together, so that all could think of was a gigantic blob floating aimlessly in his mind.

A/N: Cliché, I know. But it's like, eh, why not?

I heart your reviews! Thank you for them!

Has anybody read When Blood Isn't Always Thick by aalikane? If you haven't you should! It is an amazing Klaine (I think) fanfic where Carole abuses Kurt. I'm obsessed with it! You should check it out.

I would make a more detailed author note, but I'm really hungry, so I'm going to go eat bread.

Review!