I have no excuses. All I'm going to say is that I haven't been through exactly a 'happy' time and I haven't had the will do post anything, I'm sorry. Next one will be quicker, especially with the bank holiday and exams being nearly over.

Chapter Eleven – They Said We'd Never Make It

Sunday evening came far too fast for Finn; it meant another week back at McKinley with the constant questions and sympathy for his brother. He had gone back once Kurt had woken up from his coma because he felt useless with Blaine there, yet sometimes he wished he was still in the dreary hospital. Mercedes and Rachel were unbearable – the limited visitor's times meant they had very little opportunity to see Kurt on their own and without the rest of the glee club.

As Finn left the hospital with his parents he couldn't help but feel as if he was bring watched. The hairs on the back of his neck were raised, and the nagging feeling in the back of his head ached for him to turn around and run back up to Kurt and Blaine, but he knew he was being paranoid. Wasn't he?

The jock watched as Finn and his parents left, knowing the time was near.

Kurt was fast asleep when Blaine returned from seeing Burt and Carole to the elevators. The countertenor looked so peaceful, only the bulky cast and bandages on his shoulder and stomach detracting from the image.

He thought about his earlier realisation. He needed a ring, sure, but that could wait. In the morning he would ask Kurt to marry him. Blaine would let the finicky boy choose his own ring – Kurt only deserved the best and Blaine wanted it to be perfect.

With that thought Blaine curled up in the armchair next to Kurt's bed and let his eyes droop until sleep claimed him.

The jock moved stealthily through the service entrance to the hospital and into a storage cupboard, where he easily changed into a pair of light green scrubs and a face mask.

Walking confidently out of the cupboard the jock strode straight into a waiting elevator and up to Kurt's floor. It was almost too easy, the way everything was laid out for him. All he had to do was time the changing over of the guards right and he was in Kurt's room hassle-free.

The two guards glanced at their watches and then looked at each other; the next set were late. They knew that they were not to leave until the other pair came so they sat down on the chairs outside Kurt's room and waited.

It wasn't a hard job, and the visitors and doctors were all nice enough. It was just the boy in the hospital bed; as far as they knew he hadn't spoken a word to anyone other than his father or boyfriend in six weeks. Six weeks. They pitied the kid. No-one deserved what had happened to him, even if he was gay. The guards never knew how to treat him if they ever made eye contact through the door or window to the room.

The two guards sat and waited for the next pair. Hearing the heavy clunking of standard-issue police boots down the corridor, they stood up from the chairs and jogged towards the incoming officers.

It was too easy. The police officers made off one way down the corridor, and Karofsky went the other. The nurse and the nurses' station didn't glance up as he walked by, and with a simple flick of his wrist he opened the door into the fag's room.

Lying on the bed in the centre of the cluttered room was him, the boy who had ruined his life, and holding his hand was that prep-school fag of a boyfriend, fast asleep in the armchair. Dave once again slammed a piece of tape onto Blaine's mouth, waking the frightened boy. Pulling the hidden baseball bat out of his trouser leg the jock took a swipe at Blaine's head – one hit and the dapper boy crumpled to the ground like a broken rag doll.

Chuckling to himself, Karofsky prowled towards the injured boy lying in the bed. Kurt hadn't woken, and Karofsky wanted it to be that way. If Kurt woke his heart monitor would surely go off, alerting the nurses and officers to his presence.

Pulling a small kitchen knife out of his sock, Karofsky lowered Kurt's blankets to reveal a pale chest unaffected by the bandages covering his stomach and shoulder. Raising the knife above Kurt's chest the jock slowly carved the word 'faggot' into the pale skin, pressing the button for more pain medication each time the countertenor showed signs of waking up.

Retrieving the baseball bat off the floor, Karofsky swung it round towards Kurt's already-damaged chest; the cracking of ribs was oddly satisfying to the jock but even in unconsciousness the pain reached the pale boy's mind and heart, raising his blood pressure and heart rate to alarmingly high levels.

A ringing sounded through the room, similar to last time, and footfalls sounded in the corridor outside – the jock was trapped.

Karofsky looked around in wild contemplation before giving up. There was no hope. As the door swung open and the new guards flung themselves through the doorframe the burly jock picked up the knife.

Holding it above his head, Karofsky made to bring the knife down but was stopped by a small yet determined figure diving towards him.

Shit.

Blaine had woken up quietly, his head pounding, but the adrenaline kicked in at seeing his attacker trying to take the easy way out. He didn't stop to think, this man had not only harmed him but Kurt, his Kurt, and he needed true justice.

The smaller teen lunged towards the jock, ripping the knife out of his hands and sending it flying across the room. Too stunned to do anything, Blaine lay on the floor grasping his injured head while the guards tackled Karofsky, pinning him down and placing handcuffs tightly around his wrists.

Blaine watched as Doctor Mauswell and another female doctor rushed in, the female doctor heading towards the unconscious Kurt while Doctor Mauswell assessed his head.

Blaine lay back while the doctor did his stuff, yelling at a nurse to phone the Hudmels while the other doctor yelled to page the OR, stat.

Doctor Mauswell sat him up slowly, handing him a cold compress to place on the steadily-growing bump on the side of his head.

"It's not cracked your skull, thank God, but you do have a concussion so I don't want you to sleep just yet Blaine," the doctor was telling him.

Blaine nodded in understanding, watching as Kurt's bed was rushed to the OR because of Karofsky for the third time.

"What's happening to Kurt?" Blaine asked worriedly, his confusing mind barely comprehending what was going on around him.

Doctor Mauswell paused at the door, looking back at the boy in the armchair. "His broken ribs punctured a lung. We have to fix that and some of the deeper carvings-" carvings? "-that were made. Burt and Carole are on their way, I promise you he'll recover."

Nodding once more, Blaine leant back in the chair as he bit on his lip to keep himself awake.

Karofsky had finally been captured, but at what expense? The nurses cleaned up the floor around him, and another police officer came to take the knife with a promise to return later to take his statement when Burt and Carole had arrived.

Pain was all that Kurt's mind registered at first: an overwhelming sensation that was focused around his chest and spread out in tendrils through his torso and head. His subconscious noted that he groaned as he became aware but the main part of his brain was focusing on managing the pain. He groaned, slightly louder this time, and his eyelids fluttered open.

"Mmphh… Blaine?" his voice was low and rusty, which indicated that he'd been unconscious for a while. Again. He really needed to stop being reinjured.

"No bud, it's Dad," Burt leant forward; this would be one of the first times that he was at Kurt's bedside without Blaine hovering nearby, "Blaine's… sleeping right now."

"Sleeping?" Kurt was confused and tired. What had happened?

"…Yeah kiddo. Just rest for now."

Kurt nodded his head slightly and leant back into the soft pillows, allowing his eyes to drift shut as he sank back once again into sleep.

The next time Kurt awoke Blaine was once again sat by his bedside, a thick bandage taped to the side of his head.

"Bla- what happened?"

Blaine took the pale boy's hand, "They caught him Kurt, and he is finally where he belongs. Karofsky's awaiting trial as we speak."

Kurt blinked in shock and then promptly burst into tears. "He did that to you?" he said through choking sobs, gesturing at the bandage on Blaine's head.

Blaine nodded soberly, "and that," he whispered as he pointed at Kurt's chest.

Kurt slowly moved his hand to his chest, and ghosted his fingers over the thick bandages. "I don't feel any pain though?"

"They have you on strong meds again; this is all taking its toll on your body. The doctors think you'll probably have to repeat your junior year and graduate with me."

"Wow. I suppose it isn't that long until Thanksgiving then?" Having been attacked in September, just after school started again, it must be nearly time for the holiday.

"Three days, but it doesn't matter. Hopefully you'll be out of here and home a couple of weeks before Christmas. You have loads of physical therapy and stuff to do, but you can travel in from home to do that once you've gotten started. Your dad's sorting out the papers with the doctors now."

"B-but we always have Thanksgiving at my Gramma's in Kentucky?" Kurt let a few traitorous tears leak out of his eyes, "I want to go home, I want to leave, NOW!"

Blaine panicked; not once in the seven weeks at the hospital had Kurt broken down like this.

"Shhh, Kurt, come on now. You'll be home soon, I promise!"

"No, he's gone now and I'm better and you're staying with us and Carole's a nurse so WHY CAN'T I LEAVE NOW?"

"Please baby, just one more week and then we'll try and get the doctors to let you go, how about that?" Blaine felt as if he was a parent bargaining with a toddler, but Kurt was nothing if not stubborn.

"No, I want out NOW! T-this isn't f-fair! I-I never w-wanted t-this!" Kurt clung to Blaine's dark blue shirt as he sobbed loud, painful sobs. His heart monitor beeped loudly but both boys ignored it as they cried for all that had happened in the last seven weeks.

Eventually the two boys cried themselves to sleep, and Doctor Mauswell entered the room to find Kurt spooned in Blaine's embrace. He quietly injected more pain meds into Kurt's IV line before sighing, wishing the two boys could finally have some normality once more.

"Kurt. Kurt! Kuuuurtsie, you have to waaake up!" Blaine shook Kurt's shoulder lightly, aware that while he was more comfortable being around others he was still scared when he was groggy.

"Mmphh, Blaine?" Kurt forced his eyes to open and looked into the hazel eyes of his boyfriend, "What's going on?"

Blaine smiled like he hadn't in weeks. "You'll never guess what Burt and Carole have managed to do!"

Kurt furrowed his brow in confusion; "What?"

Blaine lay down next to his boyfriend and leant in to kiss his cheek.

"Well, because Karofsky's been caught and Carole's a nurse and you're kind of nearly better now, it's just your hip and your chest and stomach that need to heal, and you're going stir crazy in here-" Blaine took a deep breath before grinning broadly, "We're going home on Saturday!"

Kurt's mouth dropped open. "Seriously? It's Thursday today, you said it'd be a few weeks!"

"Well it took some persuading but it means your Gramma can come up and have Thanksgiving dinner with us only a day late!" Blaine laughed lightly.

Kurt smiled tiredly before his whole expression changed. "But what about you?"

The former Warbler looked confused, "What do you mean baby?"

Kurt span round in Blaine's arms to face his boyfriend, "Well your parents are- busy, so you'll be coming back with us, won't you? We're your legal guardians when they're out the country."

Blaine sniffed, "If it's no hassle, I'd love to baby, but I don't want to be a burden. I can always live on my own."

Kurt shook his head vehemently. "You're coming back to my house, it's your home now. Where are dad and Carole?"

"Speaking to Dalton. Even though you're going home early you won't be going back until the new school year – that is if you want to return to Dalton?" Blaine trailed off uncertainly.

Kurt inhaled slowly as he looked into the hazel eyes of his boyfriend. "I have to go back. Maybe n-not to the s-same room, b-but I n-need to face m-my demons. Dalton w-was my s-sanctuary, I w-won't let h-him take t-that a-away f-from m-me!"

Blaine wrapped his arms around the young countertenor as he planted a kiss on the chestnut hair. "Then I'll be there to help you every step of the way."

Saturday couldn't come quickly enough for Kurt; as the doctor went through his final check-up the pale boy waited impatiently. When the doctor had finished Blaine helped Kurt into the wheelchair with much grumbling on the countertenor's behalf.

"Why do I have to do this?" He asked impatiently.

Carole sighed, "Because as much as you feel better you're still injured and we don't want you hurting yourself anymore."

Kurt rolled his eyes; "But I don't feel injured."

"And that's the drugs you're on kiddo. When you get home and you're on less medicine you'll be in more pain." Burt chimed in as he pushed his son towards the elevator and the outside world.

Once they reached the ground floor of the hospital Blaine took over pushing his boyfriend out of the hospital for the first time in seven weeks; as the group walked through the automatic doors the two boys squinted against the sun.

"God it's bright," Blaine commented, "I'd forgotten what fresh air tasted like."

Kurt tried to twist in his chair but stopped after seeing the glare he received from Carole. "What do you mean sweetie?"

"I haven't been outside since that night. I haven't left your hospital floor."

Kurt gasped; "What? Are you insane?"

Blaine shrugged noncommittally. "I didn't want to leave you and for something to happen."

The paler boy smiled slightly, "I love you."

Blaine blushed, "I love you too. Now let's just get you home, I'm dying for a real hot chocolate."