I spent the whole morning laying with Blaine, side-by-side in his narrow hospital bed. Nurses came and went, as did Dr Salling, but they soon discovered that their sedatives, and their concerns, were unnecessary while I was with him, so they took care of their business quickly and then retreated, drawing the curtains back tightly closed around Blaine's bed, and left us alone. I helped him again with his lunch, but due to his bandaged hands he seemed to have even more trouble today than before when handling his cutlery, and straight after lunch I got to see first hand exactly why that was, and I had to bite my lip to keep from crying.

Doctor Salling came into the room with Blaine's nurse to change his bandages, and at first he just sat passively in his bed, hand clasped warmly in mine while she unwrapped his arm. The Doctor caught Blaines eye with a sympathetic stare. I hopped off the bed, but stayed by his side, still holding his injured hand.

"You might not want to watch, boys."

Blaine immediately turned his head in towards me, and nuzzled in to my shoulder, but my morbid curiosity got the better of me, and I couldn't help my need to see the extent of the damage. I thought I knew what to expect, I had tried to steel myself for what I was about to see, but the reality of it was so much worse than I had imagined, and I cried out in a broken sob when I saw what Blaine had done to himself. His whole body clenched immediately, and I felt his shoulders start to shake with his silent shame. I tried to soothe him, but I have to admit I was distracted... I just couldn't take my eyes off his arm.

The whole of Blaine's forearm was covered in what looked like a type of plastic wrap, with a thin layer of gel between it and the dark red raw wounds that marred his beautiful tan skin. The three lines were thick, and deep and ragged, and the longest one went almost all the way to the crook of his elbow. Ugly black stitches held each of the ragged gashes in the skin closed, there must have been easily more than fifty of them in total, I couldn't even think clearly enough to count them at that moment.

I gasped in a deep, steadying breath and held Blaine tighter, closer against me, wanting so badly to be able to take some of his pain away. Blaine had been through so much. Too much. I pressed a long, soft kiss to Blaine's temple before I gazed up to meet the Doctors eyes. He asked Blaine to flex his fingers, and Blaine obliged, stretching and wiggling his hand on demand. Doctor Salling felt each of his fingers carefully, and then his palm, then wiggled Blaine's thumb a little, feeling and piking all the way up to the wrist. He didn't speak at all, and when he had finished with the arm, obviously satisfied with what he had seen, he moved on to examine the stab wounds in Blaine's abdomen while the nurse wrapped a clean white bandage around Blaine's arm and wrist, down to his fingers. I realised in that second that the main purpose of that clean white bandage wasn't so much for protection as it was a disguise, and for that I was grateful. The plastic patch covering his arm was all it needed to heal, but Blaine didn't need to be able to see and be reminded of what he had done to himself.

I shook myself out of my reverie only to find the Doctor carefully removing the stitches in Blaine's abdomen, the neat edges now knitted together, leaving just a thin red scar over the stab wounds inflicted upon him in the attack.

"These have healed nicely. There doesn't seem to be any permanent internal damage from the blade, and the scars here will fade to almost nothing." He shot me a look, hesitating, unsure of whether to continue, but I think he realised that he wouldn't get any kind of a response from Blaine, and he had to tell someone.

"I can't say the same for his arm though. We had to surgically repair the damage underneath, it's still very early, but his circulation is looking good and he seems to have full movement and feeling in his hand, but only time will tell. At this stage, I am more concerned about the psychological effect the scars will have on him. The glass that he used left ragged edges, which will leave much wider, more visible scarring on his skin. He's going to be reminded of this every time he sees them, and that's going to be hard on him. He's going to need a lot of support to help him through this."

I smiled. "Well he's definitely got that."

-.-.-.-.-

They let me stay with him while he slept on the proviso that I was quiet, and did not disturb his rest. I nodded obediently and switched my phone to silent, and sent an identical text to both Mercedes and Wes, informing them of Blaines' breakthrough with his speech, and his move to the psych ward, but I didn't feel that it was my place to tell them how and why these changes had happened. Partially it was because I knew that it wasn't my story to tell, but also, in part, because I felt so guilty about it myself. Simply put, I knew that Blaine wouldn't have cut himself if I had kept my promise and stayed with him.

Mercedes hit me straight back, saying her and Tina were just leaving the mall, could they swing by for a visit? I felt a little guilty for omitting the absolute truth when I replied that he wasn't up for visitors. I couldn't tell her that he was in a locked ward without giving her the reason why. I hated lying to my friends, but it was either that or betray Blaines trust in me, and I certainly wasn't going to do that. Never again.

I spent several hours on the phone, texting Wes, Mercedes, Puck, David, Rachel and even Finn, who sent me a cryptic text about 'It' looking 'Awesome', and saying he couldn't wait til I got home to show me. I had a hunch as to what he might have been talking about, but I was already elbow deep in texts that I needed to reply to, so I just sent him a 'I'll be home by 8' in reply, and returned to Wes' text about packing up Blaine's dorm room. We had all decided that Blaine would be coming back to stay at my house after he was let out of hospital, and David and Wes had kindly offered to put a few of Blaine's personal items together to bring to the house for him, to make him feel more comfortable.

Pucks messages were the most interesting, but he was taking an awfully long time to reply to each of my hits, and one of the messages that I got from him was hopefully not intended for me, unless he really did want to know what colour my panties were... which I sincerely doubted, so I didn't bother replying to it. He had been telling me that he and Mike had been at the police station yesterday, giving their thoughts about the possible identity of one of the guys on the tape from the parking garage on the night of Blaine's attack, but it turned out that the guy they thought it might have been had a solid alibi for that night, he'd been at a College interview 200 miles away. The tape was so dark and static and out of focus that it really could have been anyone. All you could really be sure of was that it was 3 people, and one of them might not have even been a guy. It wasn't much to go on. The police had told Puck that they were wanting to try again to get Blaine's statement. I asked him when they were coming, but I never got a reply.

Rachel and Mercedes were clearly either texting each other as well, or they were both in the same room together, because they were both following the same line of questioning in regards to Blaine. By mid afternoon, Rachel had definitely managed to get something out of Finn, because she asked me what time I would be leaving Blaine's bedside tonight to go home, and without thinking I replied 'The nurses will kick me out at 7, i've been pre-warned'. Within minutes Mercedes was asking why I was being kicked out, when i'd been with him non-stop for the past two weeks. Okay, so I was going to have to tell them something. I knew they meant well, and they were only asking because they were concerned, but I did wish they would just accept my answers and not pry about things I clearly did not want them to know.

I was relieved when Blaine finally woke up, and I could just switch my phone off and enjoy being with him.

A young, dark haired guy with a clipboard came by soon after that to show Blaine some stretches and light exercises. I could feel myself smiling as I watched Blaine responding to him, listening and interacting in a way that I knew for a fact that he wouldn't have been able to do just two days ago. He still wouldn't speak, but the physiotherapist didn't seem bothered by that at all, which I think only increased Blaine's acceptance of him. Blaine was wobbly on his feet, this was, after all, his first time out of bed since the attack. The physio said that he wanted Blaine to start trying to get himself to the bathroom now, instead of relying on the bags he had been fitted with for the past two weeks. No more stitches in his groin meant no more lying around, and Blaine, for one, seemed eager to be moving forward with his rehabilitation.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The nurses politely evicted me from the locked ward at precisely 7pm, and despite the assurance that I had given him this morning, Blaine didn't take it well. I watched on helplessly as Blaine was given a sedative, and the soft wide cuffs of the velcro restraints were slipped over his wrists to keep him on the bed, after he made it quite clear that he intended to follow me. We had made so much progress today on the recovery of his trust, his normal behaviour, his speech and communication skills, but in the space of a few minutes I watched all of that hard work be erased, all because they had asked me to leave.

I knew I wasn't allowed to stay the night with Blaine in this ward, but I didn't see why Blaine couldn't be moved to a different ward, considering the circumstances. Suicide watch... important stuff, I was totally on board with them keeping an eye on him after what he tried to do yesterday, but Blaine was only a threat to himself when he was alone. If they would just let me stay with him, everything would be fine.

Of course, I understood that it wasn't healthy for Blaine to have suddenly developed such a dependence on me, but I truly didn't mind being everything that he needed me to be right now. Yeah, ok, we hadn't been together as a couple for all that long, but I wasn't going any where. Blaine could rely on me... I wasn't going to leave him hanging. I don't think the hospital staff understood that.

I was escorted to the electronic doors and reassured that they would take care of him, then the nurse turned and walked away, and the doors slid shut behind her with a mechanical whirr, and I was on my own.

Actually, I soon realised, I wasn't.

I turned to begin the walk to the parking garage when I spotted a familiar mop of dark curly hair over the top of the very couch that I had slept on in the waiting room last night. I groaned internally. I was so tired, and I really wasn't feeling up to being yelled at right now – but I had a hunch that he might have been sitting there waiting for me. And, even if he wasn't, there was no way they were letting him in to see Blaine, and I couldn't just leave the poor kid sitting there on his own all night with no answers.

"Aaron?" I called gently. No response. I walked a little closer, and only then could I make out the light snoring coming from the couch. I walked between the couches, intent on waking him, but something in his sleeping face stopped me.

God, he looked so much like Blaine. So innocent in sleep; unprejudiced and accepting and free from hatred and bigotry. I suddenly didn't want to wake him at all, because I didn't want him to go back to not being those things.

"Aaron." I spoke a little louder, a little sharper, and the boy sat up like he was jet-propelled, dazed and disoriented for a moment until he saw me, then a flicker of recognition lit his face as his eyes locked with mine with a trepidatious intensity. I gave him a gentle but weary smile.

"Hi. Sorry to wake you. I just thought you should know, they won't let you in to see him right now, it's too late for visitors."

He rubbed his eyes and yawned, but sat up and turned his body to face me.

"Yeah I know, I spoke to a nurse at the main desk. She said he was in a locked ward and that his Doctor had only cleared one person to see him, I figured it was you. What happened to him?"

I sighed, and sank into the armchair beside him. I wouldn't lie, but I didn't want to scare him either. I felt my hands fly up to fix my hair, a nervous habit that I had when I was thinking, or trying to avoid confrontation.

"They were a little worried about his mental health, and figured he could do with some extra attention, that's all. It's working already, he's speaking more, and he's not so scared of people." I smiled kindly down at him. "He even started physio today. He's doing really well."

Aaron shot me a pointed stare that was so much like Blaine it made me flinch. It was like he could see into my soul, and he knew I wasn't being truthful.

He raised an eyebrow.

"And... what aren't you telling me? They don't put someone in a locked psych ward just for some 'extra attention'."

I smiled in spite of myself, but hung my head, avoiding his eyes. Apparently Aaron wasn't as easily fooled as his adorably clueless brother.

"He's going to be fine, Aaron, you shouldn't worry..."

"Did he try to kill himself?"

I lifted my head and met his eyes, and he knew straight away what my answer was. He nodded slowly and dropped his gaze back to his wrist, where he was fiddling with the beads and rubber wristbands that decorated it.

"I thought he might have," he said softly. "I've been sitting here all afternoon trying to figure out why he's been locked up, and I knew it had to be for his protection, either from himself or someone else."

I met his gaze with tears in my eyes. If he thought anything less of me for crying, he didn't show it.

"I didn't think I should tell anyone about it. He's already so ashamed of what he did, I didn't want everyone to know. He wouldn't want their pity."

Aaron nodded. "No. You're right, he wouldn't. He's a very private person. He puts on a brave, outgoing face for the world to see..."

"But it's just there to keep people from getting too close. Laughter to hide the pain." I finished for him.

Aaron's mouth curled up at the corner as he eyed me curiously.

"You got past his walls?"

It wasn't really a question, but I answered it anyway.

"It's taken me a while. I think it helps that I have the same fears... and some of the same experiences. It's hard to openly and honestly be yourself when there are so many people trying to tell you that you're evil and wrong. Blaine and I understand each other."

I smiled a small smile at him, and touched his shoulder gently. He didn't flinch... that was progress.

"Come on, kid. I'll drive you home."

-.-.-.-

Forty-five minutes later I pulled into the Andersons driveway, and killed the engine. Aaron made no move to get out.

"Would your parents...? Umm, I mean, do you think they would want an update on how he is, or...?" I just let the question hang there, not really sure whether I would be welcome in this house at all, even to give them important news. Apparently Aaron had the same thought.

"I don't think you should. My Dad is..." he glanced up at me with shamed eyes, then dropped his gaze back to his lap again before continuing. "He's still very angry at you."

Puzzled, I turned in my seat to face him. I couldn't think of any possible reason for Mr Anderson to have a anything against me... except for my sexual orientation, of course... but even then. Why did that make him 'Angry' when just plain old 'Disgusted' would have done just fine?

"Angry at me? What? Why, what have I done to anger your father?"

Aaron twisted the strap of his school bag over and around his fingers so tight that I thought he was going to cut off his circulation, but he still refused to look at me.

"Well, he says that you're encouraging Blaine to be rebellious, and disrespectful. He thinks Blaine would have come to his senses and admitted his mistakes, and come home months ago, if not for you."

I laughed out loud at that, but there was no humour in the sound. It was a laugh of disbelief.

I couldn't even think of a retort. I just shook my head.

"Okay. That's fine, Aaron, I don't want a confrontation with him, it won't do us any good at this point. Just, please, pass on to your Mom that Blaine is doing a little bit better, okay? And tell her that we will continue making progress with him, and if she wants to help with that, I'm pretty sure that Blaine would welcome her with open arms. Please pass that along to her for me."

He nodded, gathered his book bag and hopped out of the car, but then he hesitated with his hand on the door.

"Thanks, Kurt. Thanks for looking after him."

I nodded, and as I did, a small rogue tear trickled down my cheek. I know he saw it.

"And... thanks for the lift."

I smiled. "Anytime kiddo. Oh wait, here..." I grabbed a pen and a gas receipt from the console and quickly scribbled my cell number, and held it out to him. To my surprise he took it without hesitation.

"If you ever need anything, or even if you just want to know how Blaine is doing, you call me, okay?"

He looked like he desperately wanted to say something, but not a word came out. Instead he just nodded, closed the car door, and walked up the driveway and into the house.

I drove home slowly, lost in thought. I couldn't shake the feeling that I had just made a drastic difference in Blaine's brother's life, but I couldn't quite put my finger on just how it had happened, or what exactly it was that I did. All I knew was that it was a good thing. A very good thing.

And that was enough.

-.-.-.-.-.-