“What do you mean, she hasn’t called 9-1-1 yet?”

“I mean, she called me first instead of 9-1-1. Jesus Christ. How fast can you drive?”

“Buckle up.” Blaine opened his window and reached under his seat, pulling up a light and smacking it up onto the roof of his car. Before Kurt could register what he’d done, Blaine flicked a switch under his dash and a siren blasted through the air as he backed into the street. “Cagney and Lacey have nothing on me.”

“Cagney and…who?”

“Seriously, Kurt. 80’s TV marathon. We have to do this. Your television culture is sorely lacking.”

Kurt smiled faintly at Blaine lame attempt to leverage the situation, his head too busy spinning with panic and roaring with the wails of the siren as they blistered around traffic on the two-lane roads that lead to his dad’s house. “Is it…I mean, Blaine. Oh Jesus!” Kurt gasped as they whipped around someone, only to see a huge green combine peek over the hill headed directly towards them.

“I’ve got it sweetheart…”

“I know. I know, I know, but oh my god. And…you’re out of your township. Should you be doing this?”

“I’m in county; we’re good.” Blaine paused a beat, glancing at the white pallor of Kurt’s skin. “You did tell her to call 9-1-1, right? The squad should beat us there?”

“I told her. I’m not promising anything else.”

“Okay. What level CPR do you have?”

“Rescuer.”

“Can you…are you up for this because?…” Blaine slowed enough at the stop sign to make sure anyone coming would either see or hear him and made the turn, Kurt white-knuckling the arm rests on the doors. “…we might beat the squad. And it’s better with two people if that’s what we need to do…”

“Yeah, I’m good. Unless I slow you down, let me help.” Kurt took a deep breath as Blaine turned into the development, shutting off his siren to avoid alarming any neighbors. “Fuck me. No squad.”

Blaine was out of the car before Kurt was even unbuckled, flinging his trunk open for a basic first aid kit. “It’s all I have, but there’s a face mask and gloves in here anyway.” He grabbed Kurt’s hand and yanked him towards the door.

Kurt stopped before going in, squeezing his eyes tight, knowing he didn’t have time to spare, but everything was happening so fast, he had to ground himself. “Blaine…”

“We’re going to be fine, Kurt. The squad will be here any minute.”

“Why don’t I hear one? Shouldn’t I hear it by now?”

“I don’t know…but I’ve got to get in there.” Blaine opened the door and followed the sounds of Carole’s crying, finding her kneeling at Burt’s side on the bedroom floor.

“Oh! Blaine! You’re here too! Oh, thank god. I don’t know what happened. He’s been complaining about being tired all day. Barely ate any dinner. He went to the bathroom and I heard him fall and I just don’t ev-…”

“…how long has he been down?” Blaine was on the floor, gloved and already doing an assessment, rolling Burt to his back, opening his airway, checking for a pulse.

“Since right before I called, so? Not even 10 minutes?”

“And you called the squad after you hung up with me?” Kurt stepped in and got right to work, swallowing his fear, his anxiety, his how-is-this-happening-right-now and assembled the face mask, positioning it over his dad’s nose and mouth as Blaine began chest compressions.

“I…I didn’t. I thought maybe he’d just fainted and…can’t you hear him? He’s breathing, isn’t he?”

“WHAT!? Carole! Call 9-1-1 right now!”

She stammered and bumbled, mumbling something about Blaine being there now and Kurt cut her off again. “He’s off duty and out of his township. Call. Them. Now.”

She scurried out of the room in time for Kurt to bend down and give his father two respirations and lock eyes with Blaine who began counting his compressions again, pushing the personal out of the equation so he could care for his patient.

“Does she understand she pretty much just killed his chanc-…”

“Stop. Focus. 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30.” Blaine stopped and waited for Kurt to give two more respirations. “Tilt his head back more and give me another one.”

Kurt obeyed and stayed down close to his dad’s head, talking softly in his ear, whispering encouragement, pleas to come back, listing things they could still do, anything his mind could summon to make this reality change its direction.

“Keep talking to him and keep his head back that far…28, 29, 30.”

As Kurt gave respirations again, Burt sucked in a snorting, noisy agonal breath and then settled underneath the face mask. He’d been doing this since they got there and with every uneven, useless breath, Kurt’s hope would soar and then fade – the breaths only further proof that his dad’s heart was not beating at all. “Where the fuck is the squad?”

“It hasn’t even been 2 minutes, babe. 15, 16, 17, 18…get ready to switch.”

Kurt nodded and at Blaine’s final count, “28, 29, change,” they rotated around Burt, ignoring Carole as she came back into the room, rambling apologies and reminders that he was breathing, so really…“Shit, shit…he’s vomiting, Kurt roll him away from you.”

Kurt moved quickly, rolling his dad to his side as Blaine suctioned him as best as he could with the small bulb syringe he had. Kurt bent down to his dad’s ear, a string of swears tangling in the midst of encouraging words until all he could utter was the one word of strength he had left, locking eyes with the man who owned it. “Blaine…”

“You’re doing great. Okay, roll him back and start compressions.”

They continued their cycles, switching positions again after another 2 minutes. Eventually Kurt couldn’t take Carole’s tittering and dithering, her constantly asking what was taking so long and why this and why that – when really, the only question in Kurt’s mind was why she hadn’t called 9-1-1. “Carole. I really, really need you to go into the living room and greet the medics.”

As if on cue, the screech of the arriving squad’s siren sliced through the house. “28, 29, change. We’re going to keep going until the AED is hooked up, okay? And then we back off and let them take over.”

Kurt nodded as he lifted from giving respirations and shifted to start compressions, realizing they’d only been doing this for about seven minutes – officially the longest seven minutes of his life. “Do you think it’s been too long?”

“I don’t know. They’re going to get meds in him, oxygen, they’ll shock him…there is a lot that can be done before and on the way to the hospital.”

Once the medics came into the room, Kurt continued compressions until one of them asked him to stop. He backed up and went to Carole, wrapping his arms around her holding on for dear life, more grateful for Blaine’s presence than he could have imagined. With Blaine there, he didn’t have to talk, didn’t have to explain, didn’t have to know anything – he could stand back, watch them work and hold on to the woman who had loved his dad so deeply that she was paralyzed with fear at the concept of being without him.

He sat her on the bed and explained that the “breathing” Burt had been doing wasn’t useful, life-giving respirations so that she’d understand that she was to always, always call 9-1-1 first. And then, he assured her that he loved her. Appreciated her, even when he didn’t understand her.

In the midst of it all, while his head was clouded over with the scene unfolding before him – his dad’s body jerking with jolts of electricity at every defibrillation, oxygen and IV tubes dangling everywhere, epinephrine and then atropine dripping into his veins, strangers pumping on his chest with more intensity than he knew was within protocol, a voice broke through.

“We have rhythm.”

Blaine’s eyes shot to the monitor and lifted a hand to Kurt who was half way to mentally planning a black-tie catered event to celebrate. When their eyes met, Blaine shook his head and Kurt took a deep breath, “It’s weak?”

“But we’re there. Carole, do you want to ride with us or them?”

“I want to stay with Burt.”

“We’ll follow you…” Blaine remained in the background as the medics packed everyone and everything up to go. He was fidgety and adrenaline charged, wanting to act, not watch, but they were doing everything right and at this moment, his role was for Kurt.

They wheeled Burt out, Carole following and Kurt stood frozen to his spot at the end of his dad’s bed. With the slam of the screen door, the room fell silent but for Kurt’s ragged breathing.

“Kurt? You need to hold on just a little bit longer, okay?”

Kurt nodded and he took Blaine’s hand in his, squeezing as if he were soaking up every ounce of strength Blaine could offer. “Thank you…thank you.”

“It’s okay. You did great. But we should probably go.”

“Let me…” Kurt scanned the room, his eyes stopping on the dresser. He grabbed a trucker cap hanging from the corner of the mirror and smacked the dust off on his thigh. “…in case he’s okay? And.” Kurt looked back at Blaine, desperate, seeking answers Blaine didn’t have. “…in case he’s okay and wakes up cranky.”

Blaine smiled sadly and slipped an arm around his waist to lead him out to his car. “Good plan. He’s going to want to see you, too.”

***

Kurt flinched and groaned, batting at the buzzing noise that had interrupted his already fitful sleep. The overhead florescent lights caused dagger-like pain and when he flinched at the whole of the moment, his body pained in protest. Sleeping in a mass-produced, horrifically upholstered, one-inch padded, wooden chair was not even a close second to the skinny pull-out bed the hospital had offered Carole.

As he blindly answered his phone, he had to quickly admit to himself that she didn’t look all that particularly cozy either. “Yeah, this is Kurt.” He stood to go to another area of the floor, where cell phones were allowed.

“Kurt? It’s Mitchell. How’s your dad?”

“Mitchell. Oh my god, word travels fast.” Seeing Blaine’s eyes snap up – he’d somehow slept in an even less comfortable chair than Kurt’s – he motioned for him to follow, but Blaine declined, blowing him an air kiss instead.

“I happened to be in the office when you called. What’s the news?”

“They’re calling it a massive coronary event. I guess he’s been having silent heart attacks, so his heart is pretty much minced meat.”

“Jesus, Kurt…”

“He’s in surgery now, but…the damage is all pretty irreparable.”

“Oh my god. How’s his…how’s his mind?”

“It’s been bad. Horrible, really. We had an appointment with a neurologist in a few weeks, but I guess we’ll get one in hospital now. Of course there’s a chance he’ll have brain damage just from being out so long – beyond the dementia.”

“How long was he down? They said you had to do CPR on him?”

“Yeah, Blaine and I did…we think he was down about 15-20 minutes. Carole…well. Never mind. He was down a long time.” Kurt looked out into the courtyard, the gray day, the dying autumn landscaping mocking his mood. He was already tired of talking about it, even though he’d only told the story 3 or 4 times.

“Kurt, I’m so sorry. Do you need anything? Do you have enough support there? Should I fly out?”

“No, no…stay put, but thank you. Blaine’s here and...”

"I'm glad you have him."

"So am I…you have no idea."

“Promise to keep me posted? I know things were…I was…”

“Forget it; it seems unimportant now. But, yes. I’ll update you when I can. I really appreciate the call, Mitchell. It means a lot.”

“I just know how much he means to you…I’d hate for anything to happen.”

“Well, something’s happened. It’s been happening. Now, we just have to wait and walk whatever path is laid out.”

“You’re strong, Kurt. You’ll be okay.”

“I will be for Dad. Thanks for calling.”

Kurt leaned his head on the glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows as he pocketed his phone, basking in the silence of the hidden hallway he’d found. The constant beeping monitors, the perpetual influx of doctors, nurses and aids, the rhythmic pop and hiss of his dad’s leg pumps had settled so far into his brain for the past day and a half, he began to fear they’d become a permanent white noise.

In ways, it was better than the visit to this same hospital 12 years before. At least this time his dad was awake. If awake could be defined as up and groggily mumbling for 15 minutes every 4 hours. He wasn’t in a coma this time.

He wasn’t well either. At all. They’d test, they’d poke, they’d wheel him out and he’d come back either asleep or groggy and cranky. The answers seemed to be the same every time – your father has a very sick heart. We can’t fix what’s broken, but we are trying to keep it from happening again. And when he’d look at Blaine and really look into Dr. Shivner’s eyes, he could see – there was absolutely nothing to keep it from happening again. They just had to try everything. It was their job.

Just as the thoughts of you need to get back to Carole began poking him, he felt warm, welcome hands slip around his waist, soft lips pressing against his neck. “Hi.”

Blaine said nothing, simply resting his head on Kurt’s shoulder slowly swaying them together, matching the movements of dwarf trees in the courtyard below, gently bending in the breeze.

“Can we sit?”

Blaine spied a beat-up love seat tucked away even further into the hallway, sinking into the corner of it, pulling Kurt down to cuddle up with him. “That was nice of Mitchell to call.”

“It was. He’s never met Dad, but he’s sure heard enough stories over the years.”

They sat in silence, resting, refreshing, gearing up for the post-surgery update and anything else that awaited them, which was all unknown. No calendar could alert them to it. No phone app could prepare them for it. No training could educate them about it. But maybe together…

“I want to ask you something, Kurt.”

“Just so we don’t have to leave this love seat for at least eight hours.”

Blaine wiggled his bottom deeper into the cushions and pulled Kurt in closer. “I want you to pack up some clothes for at least a week – I’m sure your dad’s going to be here that long – and come stay with me.”

“Blaine…”

“I’m less than 5 minutes from the hospital; you're about 20. I’m closer to the station so if you get a fire run you’re closer to your ERV. And I sort of live there and can be whatever you need when you need it.”

Kurt squeezed Blaine tighter to himself and sighed. “That’s completely unnecessary.”

“Probably, but it would be more convenient. And, you said yourself you sleep better with me…you need to sleep.”

“My studio is at my place. I’m going to have to start working again soon.”

“So, if you must, go back to your place to work, but I want your home base to be my house. At least as long as he’s here. I’m just afraid…” Blaine stopped himself and bit his lip, measuring his words.

“He’s going to have more arrests, isn’t he?”

Blaine nodded and gently carded his fingers through Kurt’s hair. “I don’t know, of course, but we get return calls for things like this all the time. They try to release patients too soon. They arrest again, we revive them and take them back. You need to advocate he stay here as long as possible. And it would make more sense if you were with me in the mean time.”

“It probably would be better if I was closer.”

“And if Adrian gets to be too much, tell me I was wrong and go back home. I want what’s best for you, but right now…”

“Okay. And really, the thought of Adrian being around is sort of…well, I could use one of his hugs about now.”

“He’s a good tank-filler, isn’t he?”

“He is. His yammering would be music compared to the awful sounds here.”

“Is there anything else you need from me? Anything I’m not doing?”

Kurt sat up and cupped Blaine’s face in his hands, kissing him tenderly, resting their foreheads together. “You’re perfect. You’re what I need before I know I need it.”

“I have to go to work tomorrow.”

“I know.” Kurt took a deep breath and stood, pulling Blaine up with him to head back to the room. “And depending on what the surgeon says, I’m going to try to do the same. Just sitting here keeping vigil isn’t doing any of us any good. When he gets out of here, we can’t all be exhausted.”

"No, we can't." Instead of heading back to the room, Blaine lead them to the elevator. “Want to go find some food?”

“Are you asking me on a date to the exquisite 3-Michelin-starred hospital cafeteria?”

“Would you go with me if I was?”

“I don’t know. Do you put out on the first date?”

“You know I do.”

“Fifth date, Blaine. That was our fifth date.”