A/N: I've been working on this for a couple of days :) I really hope you enjoy this one...

Rating: The F-bomb is dropped a couple of times? M ? Maybe. Idk.

There was a lot of screaming, but that was the only thing Blaine could concentrate on. Oh, and the pain. The pain was another thing – one of the only things that he could really put into perspective. If he was in pain, and he could hear screaming, it meant that he wasn't dead.

Blaine's eyes were tightly shut, so tight that it hurt his face. Something was trickling down his cheek, blood perhaps? Only then did he realise that he was leaning on the steering wheel.

Kurt!

His eyes flew open and he turned to the passenger seat with a painful cry. His head swam and everything seemed to wobble for a second, along with the throbbing pain in his chest, his knees, his face…pretty much everything stung.

Kurt was slumped, restrained by the seatbelt. His eyes flickered, but Blaine didn't think he was conscious. The front windscreen was smashed, glass was everywhere.

Where are the people? Blaine thought as his door was flung open.

The person was dressed in white, and they had urgent eyes, knitted into a concerned frown. The passenger door opened too, and two other white-clad people peered into the car. There was a lot of communication between the two sides, too much for Blaine to listen to. He rested his head on the steering wheel and closed his eyes.

"Don't go to sleep," the woman beside him prodded him gently, and started pressing his back. "Tell me if anything hurts,"

"Everything," Blaine muttered.

"On your back?"

"No," he replied despondently, staring at Kurt. His head was throbbing and he couldn't concentrate. All he wanted to do was sleep – he didn't even feel worried anymore about Kurt.

The people were here. They'd look after Kurt.

"Get me a stretcher!" the woman beside him called and the sound of wheels quickly approached.

"Over here too!" the paramedics on the other side of the car called.

Someone pulled Blaine back, unbuckling his seatbelt. They helped him out of the car, and he caught sight of himself on a shattered piece of glass.

Blood streamed down from his head, making his hair wet and heavy. It flowed over his cheeks and dripped off his chin. His eyes were dark sockets, already starting to bruise. His cheeks showed a varied shade of purple over the bones.

Moving was pure hell. Everything stung worse than when he was hunched over the steering wheel.

"Fuck!" he practically screamed as they tried to straighten his leg. "My knee,"

They let him keep it bent as they wheeled him away from the damage. As they loaded him into an ambulance, he caught sight of the car. His car…his baby was smashed. A write off, for sure. The front end was crumpled from the initial collision, and the passenger side, where they were unloading Kurt, was busted from hitting the street pole.

"Kurt," Blaine whispered as the woman climbed in next to him.

"You can't see him now," she said firmly, starting to mess around with some equipment. "Do you have anyone I can contact?"

Blaine blinked stupidly, and the woman stroked his forehead sympathetically. "How about your mother? Do you have your mobile phone on you?"

Blaine nodded and retrieved it painfully, finding the number.

"Let me talk to her. You need to rest," the paramedic said and Blaine nodded, letting his phone drop when she took it.

"Hello? I've got your son here – he's been in a car accident – he's being transported to…"

Blaine closed his eyes as he talked, but a firm prod warned him to keep them open. He just wanted to go to sleep. Heaviness took over his body, until he felt like a limp, jelly-like weight. He wanted to do something – save someone…but he couldn't move. He couldn't do anything. This helplessness was killing him. This face throbbed angrily, seeming to take priority over the rest of his body.

"Your mother will meet you at the hospital. Until then, I want you to try not to go to sleep, no matter how much you may want to,"

Blaine nodded painfully and put a hand to his face, earning a handful of blood.

"Is it bad…?" he asked softly, staring wide eyed at the blood.

"I can't tell…but you're not unconscious and you seem to be responsive, so you're going to be okay until we can check you out further. When we get to the hospital, you'll be taken to a room to be looked over, then you'll be taken to your mother, and some questions will be asked."

"What about Kurt?" Blaine asked, starting to sit up – even though his head was still pounding.

"The boy you were with?"

Blaine nodded but the woman didn't say anything.

"We're here," she said after a moment, and Blaine felt the ambulance come to a stop.

The bumping and shaking made Blaine want to pass out from the pain, but his mind wouldn't give him. He groaned and cussed as he was wheeled into the emergency room.

"Where is Kurt?" he coughed out but nobody answered him. He was rolled down halls into a separate room.

"Lie still," someone ordered and Blaine did so, trying to get a grip on what was happening. Everything was too fast for his brain to comprehend. He was getting dizzy with all the moving about.

"He's fine – get him cleaned up and we'll do a further investigation," how long had Blaine been there? Minutes? An hour?

He was wheeled away again, into a white room where his mother sat anxiously.

"Oh god, thank heavens you're okay!" she called, grabbing his hand.

"Fuck," he hissed, jerking away. "Not that hand,"

For once, his mother didn't comment on his language.

"I'm going to ask you a couple of questions – do you feel up to it?" another doctor was standing with them, and Blaine nodded slightly. "What's your name?" he asked, pen poised.

"Blaine," he said softly. "Blaine Anderson,"

"What's the date today?"

"Uh…" Blaine smirked slightly, but it caused too much pain. "I don't think I knew that in the first place,"

"Year and month then?"

"Uh, November. 2011,"

The doctor nodded and wrote some more things in the notepad he had.

"Can you give me a recap of what happened today?"

"Urm…I was driving home, from…Warbler practise with…" Blaine's eyes flew open and he sat up with a hiss of pain. "Where's Kurt?"

"He's in the emergency room. We'll let you know when you can see him. Please continue," the doctor was monotonous, almost solemn when he talked.

"Uh, I was driving, and…" Blaine closed his eyes. "All I can remember is headlights…and smashing, and screaming,"

The doctor nodded. "Thank you," he stood and left the room.

"Oh Blaine…you look," his mother said softly and Blaine wiped more blood from his face.

"I'm fine…I just…" he glanced at the door. "Kurt was unconscious…"

"He'll be fine," his mother stroked his blood streaked hair.

"But what if he's not?" he asked as a nurse walked in with a bucket of water and a sponge.

"Did you bring him some clothes?" she asked his mother, who nodded. The nurse, without warning, started cleaning Blaine's face of blood. She rinsed it in the tub, now an unhealthy pink. Glass shards were picked from Blaine's face, clothes, head and hair.

"You've got a gash on your face. That's where the blood was coming from. Hopefully it'll clot, but it may start to bleed again. Don't be alarmed – we'll take a look at it soon,"

Blaine touched it gingerly, letting out a hiss when he connected with tender skin. "Why do they always have the urge to touch it?" the nurse said to herself, removing the tub from the bed. "You can get up now, but if something starts hurting or you get dizzy, you sit back down," the nurse instructed. "Is that clear?"

Blaine nodded and lifted himself off the bed, landing squarely on his bad knee.

He let out a loud gasp. "FUCK!" His cry echoed through the halls, and the nurse hastily closed the door as he shifted himself back onto the bed.

"Shit…" he hissed, massaging where it throbbed – his head started spinning again.

"You've probably damaged the ligaments," the nurse said softly, and rolled his pant legs up.

His right knee was swollen and red, the other only slightly puffy. The nurse nodded and sighed to herself.

"What does that mean?" Blaine's mother asked anxiously, voicing Blaine's concerns.

"Well, it doesn't look too bad,"

"It doesn't?" Blaine started incredulously at his knees, as if they weren't his own.

"No," she repeated firmly. "I'm sure you could get away with a couple of years, if not months of physio,"

Blaine's eyes immediately started watering. He blinked the tears back furiously, but he couldn't deny one thing. He wouldn't be able to dance properly – probably not the same ever again. His mother placed a soothing hand on his back, which made the tears fall harder. He always hated sympathy.

The nurse returned to the room (Blaine wondered when she'd left) with two bags of ice wrapped in cloth. She gently placed them on both knees, sighing heavily.

"That's all I can do for now," she said softly. "If you need me, just press this button here," she showed him on the remote. "I'll be back later – if anything changes, you tell me, okay?"

Blaine nodded. "Am I allowed painkillers?"

"I'll get some arranged." She said

"…am I allowed to know how my boyfriend is doing?" he asked plainly, and the woman looked taken aback.

"The boy who was brought in with you…he's your…?"

"Yes. We're gay," he said bluntly and he swore the nurse blush.

"I'll check," she averted her gaze as she left.

Blaine lay down on the bed and pressed his palms to his eyes, which he regretted instantly.

"Everything hurts," he moaned and his mother touched his shoulder gently. He sat up again, using his pillow as a backrest. "Where's dad?"

His mother looked away with a sigh, and Blaine knew the answer.

"Was he home…when the paramedic called?"

She nodded sadly and Blaine drew in a shaky breath. Everything was too much. He was in a car crash – Kurt may or may not be okay – he might never be able to dance properly again – his father didn't even bother to see if his son was okay.

Tears filled Blaine's eyes again and he turned away, allowing himself to cry. After a moment, he sat up straight, earning himself a room spin. He hit the nurse button, and after a few minutes, she appeared.

"You okay?"

"Did someone call Kurt's dad?" he asked and the nurse shook her head.

"He's still unconscious – we can't get any information from him. Do you have the numbers?"

"Of course," Blaine fished for his phone again. "Do you mind if I call…it's just…"

"I understand…"

Before Blaine dialled, he shot her an anxious look. "You said he was unconscious…is that all that's wrong?"

"He's in an operating room. That's all I can tell for now. I'm sorry Blaine," she seemed genuinely sorry and he nodded, quickly dialling Burt's number as she left.

"Hello?"

Blaine struggled to find his voice. "Burt…"

"Oh hey Blaine, how's it going?"

He sounded so happy. Blaine regretting choosing to be the one to do this. "Kurt and I…we were in a car accident,"

"What? Are you okay?"

"I'm…I'm fine. But Kurt…he's not so fine," Blaine's voice was breaking.

"Shit, what the hell's happening Blaine?"

"He's in the operating room…the nurse doesn't know what's going on. I'm sorry…I can't…I don't know what's happening," Blaine was crying now. "Can you…can you get Carol and Finn to come down to the hospital?"

"I'm already on my way. I'll pick up Carol and Finn on the way,"

Burt hung up before Blaine could say goodbye. Blaine sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, trying to ignore the pain that seared his body like a thousand flames. His mother sat there, silently watching. What could she say?

The nurse returned with a cup of water and two painkillers. Blaine accepted them eagerly and thanked her. While he downed them, she slicked back his hair to find the large gash that caused so much blood.

"It's much better, but because it's on your face, you have the option of getting stitches," he held up a mirror to Blaine's face. It narrowly missed his hairline and his eye, going halfway down his cheek.

Blaine let out a surprised gasp at it. "It's bigger than I expected,"

"I'm guessing it was a piece of glass – probably when the window smashed. It doesn't hurt too much, right?"

Blaine nodded and the nurse sighed. "You're lucky. It'll hurt tonight, I guarantee it."

"Gee…thanks…"

The nurse laughed good-naturedly.

"Stitches?" she asked and Blaine looked in the mirror again hesitantly. "They'll reduce scarring,"

Blaine immediately nodded.

"I'll get a doctor in here later," she said as her pager buzzed. "Kurt's father is here," she said, glancing down at it. "I'll be back,"

She returned a few minutes later with the family of three, looking anxious and worried.

"Blaine!" Carol gasped, staring at the gash in his face.

A doctor entered behind them. "I'm going to stitch that wound – you are all welcome to stay, but it's pretty gruesome,"

"What about Kurt? Where's he?" Burt demanded, and the nurse took the three of them aside.

Blaine listened as the doctor prepped.

"Kurt is unconscious at the moment. From what he doctors can determine, he smacked his head pretty hard on the dash upon collision, and he's got quite a lot of glass shards in his skin. When he's ready for company, we'll bring him in here…other than that, I can't really give you any information,"

"Can we see him?" Finn asked softly.

The nurse shook her head. "Not yet. I'm sorry,"

Burt slumped into an armchair, and Carol stroked his semi-bald head soothingly. Finn joined Blaine over at the bed, watching as the doctor filled a syringe with liquid.

"This'll numb your face a bit – don't be alarmed." The doctor said softly and Blaine nodded. "It'll hurt a bit, so try and stay relaxed"

Blaine braced himself and felt the needle side in, fighting the urge to wince in pain. It was like a hornet sting, only it felt like an ant bite compared to the pain in his knee. He felt the liquid drain into his face and he felt strange as it immediately took effect.

"Whoa…" Blaine muttered and Finn grinned.

The doctor smiled as he collected the specialised needle and thread, and started to stitch the wound together.

"That is so freaky…" Finn muttered, staring wide eyed and open mouthed.

"Feels even weirder," Blaine was glad that Finn was there. He provided moral support. Inside, Blaine was a second away from breaking down and running through the halls to find Kurt.

As the doctor finished the stitches, the door opened. Kurt was wheeled in, his eyes closed. The room was silent and still, every one of them holding their breath. He was paler than he normally was, his eyes sunken dark sockets like Blaine's. His forehead was purple, green and blue contrasting awkwardly against his pale skin. Bandages covered the back of his head, and around his chest.

"He's okay for now. He was awake earlier…" the nurse said softly, wheeling the bed into place. "Press the call button if he wakes up,"

Burt immediately fled to Kurt's side, followed closely by Carol and Finn. Blaine had to wait, impatiently tapping his fingers against the bed while the doctor finished up, placing a large bandage over the stitches. Using his mother as a brace, Blaine hopped to Kurt's bed, leaning on it heavily.

"Grilled Cheesus…" Finn muttered in all seriousness – it was a term he'd begun to use.

Blaine smacked his head against the bedframe, crying out when it provided more pain. His eyes were watering again. Kurt looked so lifeless – so completely dead to the world.

"Kurt…" Burt tried in vain to wake him. The monitors that he was hooked up to bleeped occasionally – Blaine could only hope that was a good sign.

"Was it your fault?" Burt asked, only just audible against the hum of the machines.

Blaine's head snapped up, resulting in the room spinning slightly.

"No." he frowned and Burt nodded.

"I had to ask." The concerned parent muttered as Carol smacked him on the arm.

"It's okay…I…I couldn't forgive myself if it was my fault. I…I I'm always careful…"

Burt nodded. He needed someone to blame, but obviously he couldn't take it out on Blaine.

There was a knock on the door and the nurse stepped inside hesitantly.

"I'm very sorry, but visiting hours are over," she said.

"What?" Burt scoffed.

"It's regulations. The patients need their rest,"

"I don't care. This is my son!"

"Sir. I am fully aware that you're concerned – what parent wouldn't be. As soon as he wakes up, you'll be informed,"

"Burt…we have to go," Carol took his arm.

"But…"

"Come on," Carol thanked the nurse as she led her son and her husband out the door. Blaine listened to them argue all the way down the hall.

"What about Blaine?" his mother asked, helping Blaine back to his bed.

"He'll be staying tonight. We want to monitor your head for tonight – you seem to be constantly dizzy," Blaine nodded and looked over at Kurt.

"Give me a call when you can come home," Blaine's mother told him, and Blaine nodded, resituating the ice packs on top of his knees. "I'll leave your clothes here,"

When Blaine's mother left, the nurse turned to him.

"When Kurt wakes up, be sure to call us. We'll be checking in every half hour, and you can sleep now, so make sure you get plenty of rest. Don't touch those stitches for a while,"

Blaine nodded and rested against his pillows as she left. He was starting to get tired again. He stared at Kurt. They were only a few metres away from each other, but Blaine wouldn't have been able to reach him if he tried. Blaine glanced at the clothes, sitting on the chair next to his bed.

Fat chance of getting into them tonight…

He'd slept in his blazer before – it wasn't too uncomfortable. He didn't want to move. Blaine watched Kurt until his lids grew heavy and they closed.

^.^

Blaine wasn't quite sure what woke him at first. His knees throbbed, the whole left side of his face stung like a bitch, and his headache had returned, and they were just the injuries he could remember. There was a whole range of other things that hurt. But something else had woken him. It was dawn – Blaine could see the pink clouds behind the blinds.

"Blaine," a voice croaked

Blaine's eyes immediately shot towards Kurt, whose eyes were open. The boy gave Blaine a feeble smile.

"Kurt!" Blaine cried joyously. "Are you okay?"

"Everything hurts…" he whispered, just loud enough to hear.

"Is this the first time you've woken up?" Kurt nodded slightly, wincing as he did so.

Blaine threw off the blankets, and stepped onto the cold floor. The pressure on his knees almost killed him, and he silenced his cussing, using the bed to relieve the weight.

"Jesus Christ that hurts…" Blaine hissed

"Stay there Blaine…" Kurt warned, but Blaine shook his head.

"I want to touch you," Blaine muttered, putting weight on his left knee – the better knee – gently. When it felt okay, he put more weight on it – repeating the process until he was able to stand on both legs. It still hurt like hell, but it was manageable. He shuffled to Kurt's bed, using the wall as a brace – cussing internally with every step.

"You really didn't have to," Kurt whispered as Blaine planted himself on Kurt's bed.

"I wanted to," Blaine leaned over him carefully – knowing he must be in just as much pain – probably even more. He placed a gentle kiss on his chapped lips, not putting any weight on him. "Do you remember much?"

Kurt nodded slightly, taking a shuddering breath. "Shit, even breathing hurts,"

Blaine unbuttoned his blazer and shirt to reveal the dark purple bruise where his seatbelt held him back.

"Gotta love seatbelts," Blaine muttered, touching Kurt's forehead with barely any pressure.

"Hey, don't knock them. They saved my life," Kurt protested and Blaine grinned.

"Didn't stop you from bumping your head," Blaine countered

"Yeah, but it could've been a lot worse," Kurt didn't need to say it – it had been lingering on Blaine's mind ever since the accident occurred. "What damage did you suffer, besides the head?"

"Knees…and probably several other pains I haven't found yet," Blaine smiled, but his eyes were filling with tears again.

"Hey…what's wrong?" Kurt painfully brushed the tears from Blaine's eyes. "Don't cry…"

Kurt was getting worried. Blaine never cried. What the hell was wrong.

"I saw you…" Blaine whispered. "You were covered in blood, and you couldn't hear me. And…you were unconscious for so long…I…I didn't think you'd be okay,"

Blaine rested his head on Kurt's side gently, crying properly now. Kurt stroked his curls gently. "I'm okay now though,"

"But you're not. And I'm not. Nothing could ever be the same,"

"Of course it will,"

"It won't be. We're broken, and I don't think we can ever be fixed. Not back the way we were," Blaine thought back to Burt's statement. "Kurt, I almost killed you!"

His voice was high and shrill, and Kurt silenced him with a firm kiss, almost gasping out with the pain it caused.

"Don't you ever say that again Blaine Anderson. Not ever. That accident was not your fault. You hear me?" Kurt kissed him again, trying to take away his confusion and doubt with the kiss. "You've got to believe me,"

"Kurt…" Blaine whimpered, and Kurt kissed him once more.

Kurt's eyes were filling with tears. "You can't blame yourself for this. I won't let you. Bounce back Blaine. Wake up, and be the Blaine Anderson I know."

"We're fucked, Kurt. Absolutely fucked." He hissed. "I have to go to physio, you'll probably have scars for the rest of your life."

"We're together," Kurt looked into his eyes, pulling him close so their foreheads were touching. "We've got each other. And that is what is going to fix us. We're going to get better. Scars are sexy, and you'll be amazing after physio. I don't care who you want to be – who you're going to be. I love you now, and I'll always love you because you are Blaine Anderson. Because you take life in your stride and use it to your advantage. Don't let this ruin you. It was a mistake, an accident. Don't let it rewrite your life,"

Blaine stared at Kurt, both of them had tears making steady tracks down their eyes. They came together in a hungry kiss, both yearning for something real – because so far, everything felt like a dream.

"Is that clear?" Kurt cleared his throat, giving Blaine a small kiss.

Blaine nodded and snuggled in close to his boyfriend, careful that he wouldn't knock him or move him. The nurses could stuff themselves – the two of them still had a few more hours together before people started milling around.

With a contented sigh, Blaine felt better than he had all year, hell, perhaps even in his entire life – even with the horrible damage done to his body.

Kurt was his, and Kurt wasn't going anywhere soon.

A/N: I am obviously lacking in the medical side of this, so excuse the mistakes. I was going off my general knowledge (which is really bad). I had such a badass time writing this, I really really hope you like. This happens to be the only one so far that HASN'T happened to me or my friends. _gasph!_