---

"...accident, but you are doing OK now." A female voice seemed to float in and out, like someone was turning a volume dial up and down on a radio. Kurt furrowed his brows, trying to listen. To concentrate.

But it took too much energy, and he faded away again. 

---
The man's voice seemed warm and welcoming, as the words flowed over Kurt.
“From the moment Cher Horowitz stepped onto the big screen in a natty black blazer and argyle mini, Clueless had us totally buggin'. Back then, grunge was still in its heyday—Marc Jacobs had released his Perry Ellis collection just three years prior—and though flannel and Dr. Martens looked rock-star cool on Kate Moss and Kurt Cobain, some things got, shall we say, lost in translation….”
---

A woman singing along to a song on the radio as she ran a warm cloth over his skin...

But tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet?
Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day
And head back to the Milky Way?
And tell me, did Venus blow your mind?
Was it everything you wanted to find?
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?

----
....bright, bright light...

"Oh, Im sorry, that sunbeam is hitting you right in the face." A female voice nearby commented. 

There was a rustle of noises, and then the bright light eased. 

His hand was grasped. "Kurt, Kurt...I saw you respond to that light. Hear my voice, Kurt. Its Hannah. You can open your eyes. Its safe. Wake up. Im here." The voice was familiar somehow, but not. But it was warm, and urging. 

Kurt tried to press forward, out of the dream state, but he was pulled back down, back under. 

---

His eyelids were so, so heavy, but he finally opened them. Just the tiniest amount. And there was almost an explosion of light, his whole field of vision seemed impossibly bright. Too much. Closing his eyelids again, Kurt tried to sink again. 

But there was an urging internal voice. Urging to try again. Open his eyelids again. Just one more time. And this time it wasn't as bright. He blinked slowly, trying to focus, trying to find a familiar shape in the shadowy space. 

There was a gasp nearby, and then a whispered “Kurt? Oh my god…” 

---

“This won't take long, Kurt. Just going to check your reflexes, your responsiveness.” The doctor's hands were skillfully moving over his body, assessing. 

Intelligent brown eyes peered into Kurt's, and then a bright light flicked. The doctor was using a hand-held instrument to look into Kurt's eyes. 

“Open your mouth, and say ‘Ahhh…'” The doctor pressed the wooden depressor on Kurt's tongue, shining her light into his mouth. 

Pulling back, her eyes looked into Kurt's. “Can you try that again, please?” 

---

The nurse chuckled as she hung the bag on the IV pole. “I see that expression, Kurt. I know it seems strange, but you are getting all the nutrition you need this way. But I'll bring you some broth later to sip, get you used to taking food the normal way.” 

Kurt arched an eyebrow as the nurse lifted his shirt and connected the tube coming from the bag on the IV pole to a port on his stomach. Watching her efficiently working, Kurt wished he could ask her so many questions. But ever since his medical, Kurt had tried and tried to make noises on his own, and no sound had come out besides different types of exhaling.

---

“That's it. Small, small steps. Don't be afraid to lean heavily on me, Kurt. I can take your weight.” Hannah's voice was encouraging. Her body felt warm and sturdy pressed against his side, and her arm around his waist. 

Concentrating hard, Kurt shifted his weight to shuffle his other foot forward a few inches. It had taken at least ten minutes, and they were just now stepping outside of the small bedroom. 

Kurt stopped, looking around the hallway with intense curiously.

“Are you tired? Want to go back to bed?” Hannah asked, her eyes assessing her patient. 

Shaking his head, Kurt continued to look around. He had figured he wasn't in a hospital room, even though he was in a hospital-style bed, but didn't recognize the room. He didn't recognize the hallway either, but he did see a painting he knew well. 

As Hannah urged him along the hallway slowly, Kurt looked for other familiar things and found many. His things were everywhere. 

Things from the house were here, in this place now. And Adam wasn't around. The doctor and nurses had told him what they could, but they didn't know the full story. And Kurt couldn't ask questions. But he was starting to piece it all together now in his head.

---

Lightly napping, Kurt didn't stir when there was a light knock on the door and he heard it opening. There were frequent health care staff coming and going from the room. But the footfalls sounded different than the almost silent ones of the rubber-soled nurses, and he turned to look who had entered. 

It was a young man with short dark curly hair. He was dressed casually in jeans and a black hoodie, looking very out of place from the scrubs the health care staff usually wore. And his expression looked a bit uncomfortable. Kurt was intrigued.

"Um, Hi. Im Blaine and I was working in your apartment when you first moved here. Hannah, the nurse, thought I could come by and read to you again." The young man stepped closer, looking down at Kurt, his large hazel eyes so sincere and his triangle shaped brows pulling down a little. 

Kurt had an odd feeling of knowing this man, of some type of familiarity with him, although he would have surely remembered that earnest face if he'd seen it before. Giving him a small nod, he felt a bit curious and bemused as he watched Blaine pulling a chair closer and picking up the magazine Hannah had left.

Blaine seemed a little awkward, fumbling with the magazine before flipping through the many pages of ads before getting to the first article. When he started to read, he was a bit rushed and screwed up some words, so Kurt had a hard time even following what he was reading. 

But after a couple minutes, Blaine settled into his reading. “…Why a shoot about llamas and pajamas? Here is how it began. Llamas are chic creatures, one of us noted recently, with an imposing silhouette, shaggy fur accents, and a self-possessed comportment. The specter of Valentine's Day, meanwhile, had us considering all manner of warm, wintry gifts to give our most cuddly and embraceable loved ones. Irresistible blankets, woolly knits, cozy fleece—and pajamas. Llamas and pajamas….”

Kurt blinked at Blaine as continued on, again feeling the loss of his voice. He would have stopped Blaine, asked him what the hell he was reading, or at least laughed. But instead, he had to sit back as his reader continued talking about a photo shoot with llamas. He would have surely disrupted his reading with laughter at the line “Llama spit spouts voluminously from their mouths like a sprinkler…”

Blaine read on, oblivious to Kurt's reaction to the story. He was on a different article when he looked up to check on Kurt, and seemed to lose his place. Kurt felt bemused again as he watched Blaine trying to read on smoothly. 

Stopping to take a drink of water, Kurt watched as Blaine opened the water bottle and tipped his head back. He had nice, strong hands, and his skin was a warm, olive colour. He just seemed so normal. A regular person. Not a health care worker. Not a theatre person. Who was Blaine and why was he here? 

Seeing Kurt's gaze, Blaine put down the water bottle. “Are you thirsty too?” At Kurt's nod, Blaine stood and moved to the bedside table, and soon had a straw at Kurt's lips. 

Back to reading, Kurt listened and watched Blaine. Watched as his mouth formed each word, full lips, flashes of white teeth. His eyes crinkling in amusement occasionally at the articles or the pictures.

And Kurt could only smile and nod when Blaine finished reading the magazine, and asked, “"OK, I will go now. Would it be OK if I come back in a day or two?"

So, so OK….

---
-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: Time Jump Back! And into Kurt's POV! (OK, I'll admit to watching a few too many Tarantino movies & now I love to play around with story structure) 

-The excerpts are from real Vogue articles. Copy & paste the following links because I'm not tech-savvy enough to set up the links.
“The Clueless Effect: How One ‘90s Cult Movie Made a Lasting Impact on Fashion.”
http://www.vogue.com/13273530/clueless-cult-movie-fashion-impact/
“Llamas, Pajamas, Male Models: What More Do You Need for a Snow Day?”
http://www.vogue.com/10453795/llamas-pajamas-photo-shoot-male-model-garrett-neff/

-Song lyrics are from "Drops of Jupiter" by Train