Chapter 9: Until My Dying Day

There's nothing to do now but wait.

Kurt came into the emergency room fully prepared to fight a war, because Blaine doesn't have any family, and Kurt will under no circumstances tolerate being kept in the dark about his condition, but, by some miracle, it turned out not to be necessary. He's one of Blaine's emergency contacts, after all, with a signed privacy waiver on file.

Thank God. He's almost grateful for the episode that brought Blaine here a few weeks ago, because he's sure he would never have thought of it, otherwise.

So, he fills out the paperwork as best he can – which isn't well at all – and settles in.

It's terrible, waiting. He looks up whenever someone comes striding through the door, that awful double door separating him from Blaine, but it's never for them. He has this anxious energy that wants to escape, but his body feels numb, and moving is beyond him, so it's trapped buzzing around his chest cavity like bees in a box. He can't stop thinking about that sound, that prolonged beeeeeeeep that the machines make when your heart won't beat on its own. He can't stop seeing images from his dreams, fleeting flashes and one that lingers, fresh from last night – Blaine, still and pale and bleeding from the heart.

Rachel sits with him, and holds his hand. They're quiet for a long time, until Kurt can't stand it anymore.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "About earlier. I pushed you out of your big moment."

She sniffs.

"It was for the best. Just don't do it again." She tries for a smile and doesn't quite make it.

"I don't think that will be a problem."

"You missed out on all of the backstage drama." She looks at him, eyebrows raised as if asking permission to fill him in. He nods, and scoots down in his chair so that he can rest his head on her strong, if petite, shoulder. "It turns out that guy was hired to do more than just, um, protect Blaine's virtue."

"Yeah, I think we figured that one out."

"No, but just listen – Santana overheard him talking to Sue at intermission, making it clear that he'd been given orders to kill you if he caught you sniffing around." Kurt snorts, and she hits him lightly on the shoulder. "His words, not mine. She told him she'd taken care of it. I assume that means she told Blaine, and Blaine – "

"He was trying to save me."

His heart clenches, hard. She squeezes his hand.

"I assume so, yes. In any case, Santana told me what she'd heard as soon as she realized you'd, um, made an appearance, and we called the police right away."

"Thank you," he murmurs.

"Anytime."

They're quiet for a while longer, while Kurt tries to reconcile this new information with Blaine's behavior of the last week.

It must have been so horrible for him. Kurt swallows, hard, and blinks down his tears. He just wants to be with him, right now, so he can hold him – or at least hold his hand.

"I need to call my dad."

He says it as soon as he thinks it. He stands up before he can talk himself out of it, and Rachel looks up at him sadly.

"I'll come get you if there's any news."

He nods and walks the short distance out of the hospital on wobbly legs. He sits on the first bench he can find and pulls out his cell phone. He needs...he needs to know his dad is okay, and he needs to tell him. Nothing in his life feels real until his dad knows about it, too, but this is too real, and he needs to share the burden.

It's late by his dad's standards, but he picks up on the second ring nonetheless.

"Hello? Kurt?" His voice is muddled, like he's been woken up.

"Dad."

Just – hearing his voice, saying his name, it's enough to let something relax that Kurt didn't consciously realize was tense. The tears start trickling steadily down his cheeks.

"Kurt, buddy, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

His dad's voice is getting frantic, and Kurt wants to be strong and reassure him, but he's not entirely capable of it at the moment.

"I – I'm not hurt, I – it's Blaine, Dad. He had, I don't know, a heart attack or something, his heart stopped beating, and he's in the hospital."

"Is he okay?"

"I don't know. They haven't – I don't know anything yet. Dad, I'm so scared."

He's crying in earnest now, the ugly kind with the snot and the uncontrollable sobs that turns his face bright red and sticks in his throat so hard it hurts to get it out.

"I know, Kurt, I know. Hey, listen to me. Can you do that?"

"Uh-huh," he manages.

"Are you still in California?"

"No, no, we never left – it's a really long story, and I promise I'll tell you, I just – "

"No, hey, listen, it's fine. Do you have someone there with you?"

"Yeah, Rachel. She's here."

"Okay. I want you to let her take care of you, and I'm going to get on the first flight I can, so I can be there, too."

"No, no, Dad, you don't have to do that. I'm – I'll be – it'll be fine."

"Well then, it'll be fine and we'll have some father-son bonding time. And hey, that opening of yours must be right around the corner. I was gonna come out for that anyway."

Another round of sobs, this one motivated by guilt.

"It was tonight, Dad. I'm – I'm so sorry I didn't tell you."

There's silence for a moment, and Kurt tries to pull himself together.

"Well. I can't say I'm not disappointed, but I bet you had a real good reason. You can tell me all about it when I get there."

Kurt sniffs, hard, and all he can say is, "Okay."

"I'll try to be there by morning, alright? You just sit tight and stay strong. Blaine's a lucky guy, to have you in his corner. Remember that, okay?"

"Okay. I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, Kurt. And I'll be there soon."

He's exhausted, once they say their goodbyes. Emptied out, in the best way.

Unfortunately, the relief only lasts moments before he remembers – Blaine could be dying, he could be taking his final breaths right now. And Kurt can't be with him.

But he can get closer. He heaves himself off the bench and wipes his eyes well enough to un-blur his vision, then returns to his seat at Rachel's side. She doesn't say a thing about the state of his face, horrendous though it must be.

He takes her hand in his, and they wait.

Soon enough, their little vigil grows in size. Santana bursts through the outside door, followed quickly by Sam and Brittany. She takes a moment to search the room before making a beeline for them. Once she gets there, she falters, like she doesn't know what to do now that she's reached her destination.

"Any word?" she asks, almost timid. Sam is clutching at Brittany's arm, desperate and anxious. Brittany is patting at his hand absently, eyes flitting between Kurt and Santana.

"Not yet," says Kurt. He gestures at the empty chairs around them. "Have a seat. We're not sure how long the wait will be."

Sam takes the seat beside Rachel, and Santana and Brittany settle in across from them. The silence is slightly awkward, as the three of them come down from the adrenaline high and acclimate themselves to the slow burn of waiting.

"What happened after we left?" asks Rachel, quietly.

"The cops took our friends Baldy and The Weasel into custody. Don't know if the charges will stick, but their bail should be set pretty high."

"Not that that'll be a problem for Sebastian Smythe," mutters Sam.

"They made us stick around for a while to give our statements – you have that to look forward to, by the way, they'll be swinging by the hospital before the night is over – and then they told us we could go. We came here right away."

"Sue said she's putting the show on hold," adds Brittany. "Until we know if Blaine..."

"Right," says Kurt, quickly. He doesn't want to hear any of them say it.

"Where is Sue?" asks Rachel.

"Still talking to the cops, the last I saw," says Santana, grimly.

None of them say what they're all thinking – they might have just witnessed the end of The Moulin Rouge. With the police sniffing around and Sebastian backed into a corner...it can't end well.

"At least we got to do it once," sighs Rachel. "Sort of."

"I don't know. Personally, I think this ending was way better than what we rehearsed." Santana smirks, but it drops quickly. "Except, you know, that last part."

"Yeah," says Kurt, quiet. "That part really sucked."

It still sucks.

The ER door opens, and Kurt looks, a reflex by now, but this time the doctor is walking their way.

"Are you here for Blaine Anderson?" she asks, once she's reached the group. Her voice is pleasant and professional, and Kurt can't tell anything from it at all.

"Yes. Yes, I'm Kurt Hummel, I'm – I need – can you please – ?"

She smiles – Kurt's pretty sure it's meant to be calming, but he's also pretty sure that nothing could slow the pump of anxiety through his blood at this point. His hands are trembling with it.

"Mr. Hummel, my name is Dr. Whitman. Could you please step aside, so that we can discuss Mr. Anderson's condition?"

Kurt shoots to his feet and follows her to somewhere she deems more private, taking heart in the implications of her careful language. Blaine has to be alive to have a condition, after all.

"How is he? Is he okay? Is he awake? Can I – ?"

"I can see that you're anxious, Mr. Hummel, but let's take this step by step, shall we?"

She waits. He nods. She continues.

"Mr. Anderson's condition is stable. He suffered from cardiac arrest due to a prolonged period of ventricular fibrillation, which we suspect was related to his recent diagnosis of Wolf-Parkinson-White Syndrome – "

"Wait – what?"

"Wolf-Parkinson-White? It's a birth defect affecting the electrical circuitry of the heart. Mr. Anderson's file indicates that he was diagnosed after a recent episode, which was initially mislabeled as a panic attack."

Oh. Oh.

"Is it...serious?"

"Not usually. Complications like the one Mr. Anderson experienced tonight are rare, even in high-risk cases such as his. It's very treatable."

"What about – is he alright?"

"Like I said, his condition is currently stable. We won't know if the episode has caused any lasting problems until he comes out of sedation."

"What problems could there be?"

"Well, he underwent a prolonged period of oxygen deprivation, so we could potentially see some signs of damage to his brain – memory loss, impaired speech, that sort of thing. However, the chances are slim that we'll see any significant changes."

Hearing all of that is just as scary as it was when he was 16 and considering the real possibility that he was about to become an orphan. It turned out fine, then, but there are never any guarantees. Nothing will feel like relief until he can see Blaine, touch him, hold him.

"Can I see him?"

She nods and smiles her pleasant smile.

"Of course."

"Let me just go tell our friends."

She nods her assent, and Kurt rushes over to relay the news.

Their relief is palpable. They hug each other and let out the breath they've been collectively holding and settle more comfortably into their seats, resigning themselves to a longer wait.

Dr. Whitman leads him back behind the doors, to Blaine. The walk feels long, but Kurt isn't confident that it actually is. Time has been feeling weird and fluid all week, but especially tonight, like it stretches out one moment only to snap back the next.

Blaine is by himself – asleep, of course, if it can really be called that when it's drugged. He's hooked up to some sort of heart monitoring device ("Just a precaution," according to Dr. Whitman) and an IV of clear liquid, but that's it. Less scary than Kurt prepared himself for.

He's too still to be truly asleep. His hair is rumpled almost to tangles, and his stage makeup smeared in streaks. Kurt maneuvers so that he's as close as he can get to him without disturbing any of his wires and tubes, and he leans in to place a gentle kiss on Blaine's forehead. It probably reassures him more than it does Blaine, given that Blaine is so deeply under, but he just – he has to feel the warmth of his skin and the steady pulse in his veins. Much more comforting than the quiet beep, beep, beep in the background.

He feels that part of him that was holding on so tightly to his worry release its grip, just a little. He won't be able to let go entirely until Blaine is awake and talking, but it's a start.

Eventually, the others start coming back, one by one, but Kurt doesn't really notice what they do or say while they're there. He's too busy watching the rise and fall of Blaine's chest and tracing over the slack lines of his face with his eyes. He's fairly certain they're doing the same thing, anyway.

Rachel is the last to visit, and she tells him, regretfully, that the police have arrived to take their statements. Kurt squeezes Blaine's hand, kisses his cheek, and reluctantly follows Rachel down the hall to the room they've procured.

It's a fairly painless process, aside from the fact that Kurt is itching to get back to Blaine. He tells his side of the story, avoiding any mention of the contract or The Moulin Rouge's less recent history – he can't see how it should affect their treatment of his attempted murder, and he certainly doesn't want to implicate Blaine in anything that could get him in legal trouble. The officers record him and take notes and let him talk with little interruption. They all want to be done with this as quickly as possible.

When he's done, he squeezes Rachel in a hurried hug of gratitude and goes to finish out his vigil on his own.

&&&&&

Kurt wakes up the next morning to a message from his dad, who's on his way from the airport. Kurt can't help but feel guilty at pulling him all the way to New York when the crisis is already at its tail-end, but he decides to push it aside and be selfish. He really just wants him here.

He's groggy and grungy from a fitful night in the cot next to Blaine's bed, with cricks in his neck and an ache in his lower back, but he's calmer, at least, than he was the night before.

He does the best he can to clean a night of hospital off of his skin, but it, like the smell, seems to stick. It doesn't help that the only tools he has to work with are warm water and the moisturizing hand soap in the bathroom. He gets a hand towel from the nurse on duty and tries to do the same for Blaine, wiping his face clean of makeup and dried sweat. He's unable to resist trailing his fingers over Blaine's cheekbones as he works, and the charmingly off-center slope of his nose.

He can already feel his skin drying out. He's definitely having Rachel bring his skincare products later today.

And then, finally, his dad is there, and Kurt almost starts crying again when he gets pulled into the biggest, best bear hug he knows.

"How is he?" he mumbles into Kurt's shoulder.

"Stable. He's sedated, so it's kind of boring in here."

"Well. When it comes to the hospital, I always say boring beats exciting any day."

Kurt huffs out a laugh and squeezes him extra hard.

His dad looks about as worn out as Kurt is himself, but he's brought breakfast and coffee for the both of them, and they soon start to perk up. The nurse comes in about halfway through the bagels and tells them that Blaine is being taken off sedation and that he should wake up soon.

"I guess I'll finally be meeting this boyfriend of yours, huh?"

Kurt grins, for the first time in what feels like forever.

He tells him all about Blaine's condition, and then about Blaine himself, glancing at Blaine every once in while in case hearing so much about himself will inspire him to wake up faster.

He saves the less savory portions of the story for another time, when they're not already at maximum stress levels – his dad has his own heart troubles to worry about, after all. His dad seems to realize he's leaving things out, but he lets it go, for now.

It's slow, when Blaine starts to show signs of life. A twitch of the hand, or the eyelids. And then he starts to mumble, and make abortive movements as if to turn over in the bed. Kurt watches, all hopes pinned on the moment when he –

His eyes open, slowly. He blinks. He focuses. He sees Kurt.

Kurt breathes in, sharp and almost painful in his relief.

"Kurt?"

And the exhale, bringing with it every last bit of lingering worry. It's almost a laugh.

"Hi. Welcome back."

He can't help it, he lifts Blaine's hand to his lips and kisses it, over and over. Blaine beams his approval. He frees his hand, gently, and strokes it down Kurt's face.

"I like you," he says.

His eyes are woozy, and bright with affection. Kurt laughs fondly.

"I like you, too."

"Stay?"

"Always. I'm never saying goodbye to you."

Blaine nods, and his eyes drift closed. Within seconds, his breathing is deep with sleep.

His dad clears his throat.

"He seems great, kid."

"You'll love him, Dad, I swear."

His dad chuckles.

"I'm sure I will. And, if I don't, I'm sure you'll do it enough for both of us."

Kurt can feel himself blush, a little. It's strange and strangely nice that his feelings are so clearly visible. He kind of likes that his dad can see the love all over him.

His dad ends up staying to keep him company until Blaine shows signs of waking up for real, at which point he decides it's time for him to take his leave.

"I'll give you two some alone time, check into my hotel. Maybe take a nap. We'll have dinner together, though, the three of us. I have a feeling I should get to know this guy."

Kurt grins and agrees, and focuses all of his attention back on Blaine.

"What happened?" is the first thing Blaine says, once he's back in the land of the coherent.

Kurt explains as best he can and lets the nurses do the rest, when they come in to take his vitals. After they leave, he scoots his chair in closer to the bed so that he can hold Blaine's hand more comfortably in his, and so that he can reach out and touch if he needs to.

"I was so worried," he says. It comes out almost on a whisper.

"I'm sorry."

"You should be." Blaine blinks in surprise. "Not for – I mean, you should have – why didn't you tell me? About your diagnosis, I mean."

Blaine glances away, like he can't bear to meet Kurt's eyes. After a moment, he looks back, determined to weather the storm.

"The doctor told me my best treatment option was surgery. I couldn't – there was no way I could have taken the time away from rehearsal to do something like that. I figured, the chances were so slim that anything serious would go wrong – "

"But it did, Blaine. Your heart stopped. I don't know if you remember that, but I do, and I'm not going to be forgetting it any time soon. You have no idea how scary that was."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." He says it so kindly, but Kurt needs more than that.

"Okay, but don't just be sorry, Blaine. I need you to – please will you take this seriously? This is your heart, and you – you kind of need it, you know?"

Blaine squeezes his hand.

"I will. I promise. Don't worry, I kind of want to make sure my dying day is as far in the future as possible."

Kurt smiles.

"Good."

He leans over to kiss Blaine, gently, careful not to jostle anything. He wants to climb up into the bed, but he's pretty sure the nurses wouldn't take too kindly to that, and he wants to stay on good terms with them. He settles for clasping Blaine's hand in both of his and holding it tightly to his chest. They look at each other, just needing this moment to bask in the glow of you're here, you're really here.

Blaine's expression goes suddenly worried.

"Kurt, what happened after I passed out? Was Sebastian – ?"

"Arrested. That guy, too, the asshole with the gun – "

"Oliver."

"Right, him. The police took them into custody and took statements from all of us."

Blaine nods, but he still looks perturbed.

"Do you think Sue will get in trouble over all of this?"

"I don't know. It depends on how much Sebastian says to the police, I guess."

"That's what I was afraid you'd say."

"Let's not think about that right now. Let's just concentrate on getting you better, alright? That's the most important thing right now."

Blaine smiles at him sweetly.

"I love you, you know that?"

Kurt's own smile could split his face in two, it's so wide. A lightning bolt zing of happiness speeds up from his toes and bursts into his heart. He frees one hand and reaches up to cradle Blaine's jaw and run a thumb over his cheek.

"I know."

He's just about to speak up again, to tell Blaine how very much the feeling is returned, when there's a knock at the door. Kurt looks up, and then he's shooting out of his seat and almost dragging Blaine out, too, with the force of it.

Kurt is certain that Sebastian Smythe has never been less welcome in a room than he is in this one, right now.

"Don't even think about stepping foot into this room," Kurt snarls. He's suddenly thrumming with rage at his audacity, showing up to Blaine's hospital room after everything he's done. If he has the gall to even mention the word "contract," Kurt won't be held responsible for his actions.

"No," says Blaine. Kurt blinks down at him, certain he's heard wrong. Blaine is pleading with his eyes for understanding. "Let him stay. I want to hear what he has to say."

Kurt clenches his jaw. He nods, stiff and quick, and settles back in his seat.

Sebastian clears his throat and steps into the room. He doesn't move to sit down.

"Thank you. I really just...wanted to make sure you were okay."

It's now that Kurt notices how...wan he looks. Crumpled, pale, tired, like he came here straight from the police station. He probably did. He's looking at Blaine like he's seeing a ghost, but, honestly, Sebastian is the one that looks closer to the grave at the moment.

"Yes," says Blaine, shortly. "We both are."

"I was worried."

"I'm sure," scoffs Kurt. Worried about damage to his property, maybe.

"I talked to Sue. I told her I wanted to void the contract."

Blaine frowns, wary.

"And the funding?"

"A donation, on my part."

"Why would you do that? You know that's – it's not going to change the fact that you hired someone to kill my boyfriend."

"We agreed it would be best not to make things...messier than they have to be."

Blaine's brow is still furrowed, and he's looking at Sebastian like he's searching, trying to piece something together.

"What about Ohio?"

Kurt's heart lurches, and he clenches his hand around Blaine's. Now isn't the time to ask, but he's sure as hell going to.

"I gave you my word. I wouldn't go back on that even if I wanted to."

"I don't get it, Sebastian. What's in this for you?"

Sebastian's eyes flash, and he opens his mouth for what's sure to be a comment that ignites Kurt's already-strong desire to jump across the bed and rip out his guts, but he stops. He sighs, heavily, and tries again.

"When I heard what – when Sue told me last night that you'd collapsed behind the curtain and nearly died, I – I couldn't sleep, I just lay awake in that jail cell and – and I couldn't stop thinking... I care about you, Blaine." He glances quickly at Kurt, mouth drawn in a thin line. He blinks, and steels himself, and looks at Blaine like he's stabbing himself in the heart and bleeding it out for him. "I love you, actually. And I was hurting you."

"You don't love me, Sebastian," he says, gently. "You don't know me."

Sebastian glances at Kurt again, eyes darting away as soon as they land.

"I know. But I – I think I would have felt the same. Even if you weren't...putting on an act, with me."

"Sebastian – "

"If you would just give me a chance – "

"Wait, stop. No. Sebastian, I don't...blame you, entirely, for what happened between us. I was using you just as much as you were using me – maybe more. But I will never be in love with you. And that has nothing to do with Kurt, or anyone else. It has to do with you and me. So, thank you, for letting me out of the contract. But if you ever come near me or anyone that I love, ever again, I will make sure that you regret it."

There's stone-cold steel in his eyes, and his voice, and the set of his features. Kurt couldn't be prouder if he tried.

Sebastian looks away. He nods, and swallows, and nods again.

"I'm glad you're okay," he says, to Blaine's feet.

He turns and leaves without another word. Blaine collapses back into his pillows.

"God, I love you," sighs Kurt.

Blaine laughs. It's tinged a little bitter.

"Thank you for letting him stay. I needed that."

"It's your hospital room. And, clearly, you don't need my protection."

Blaine smiles, but it fades quickly.

"There are some things I should tell you."

"Rachel told me about – Oliver, was it?" Blaine confirms with a nod. "She said that Sebastian gave him orders to kill me if I came near you. And that that's why you...did what you did. I just don't get why you didn't tell me, Blaine. I mean, it was my life at stake – shouldn't I have gotten some say in the decision?"

Blaine looks away, presses his lips together.

"It wasn't just your life."

"What do you mean?" A part of him thinks he might already know – Ohio – but it's horrible, and he won't even think it unless it's confirmed.

"He told Sue he had...connections, in Ohio. He said he'd go after your family, Kurt. Your dad. I couldn't – I knew what you'd choose, if it was just you, I knew you'd want to fight for us no matter what. But I couldn't make you choose between me and your dad, I couldn't. I knew you'd hate yourself either way. So I just...made a deal and took us both out of the equation."

"Blaine..."

He looks up and meets Kurt's eyes, regretful, but so, so sure.

"I know now that I made the wrong decision. I took away your choice, and I hurt you, and I – I chose fear when I should have chosen you."

"You thought you were. You were trying to protect me."

"No, I was trying to protect myself."

"Same thing, isn't it?"

Blaine smiles.

"I suppose so, yes."

"To be honest, I don't know what I would have done in your shoes."

"Yes, you do. You would have trusted in us enough to fight, the same as I should have done."

"You did, in the end."

Blaine grabs his hand and squeezes tight.

"I hated watching you walk away from me. It felt so wrong. And then I heard Santana, and that sappy line she's always hated, and I finally understood what you've been saying all along – nothing can touch us, if we don't let it. I knew what I had to do, after that."

Kurt has to, he leans in and kisses Blaine, deeply, trying to communicate just how much he's feeling in that moment. It's not enough, it could never be enough.

"Never again?" he murmurs, hovering above Blaine, close enough that his eyes are nothing but splotches of color.

"'Til my dying day."