"Thank you, Blaine," Burt said as he walked the boy to his car.

"For what?" Blaine asked, confused.

"For helping Kurt," Burt replied, rubbing the back of his neck, "and for looking out for him."

"He's one of my best friends," Blaine admitted, blushing slightly. "I'll do anything for him – to help him adjust. I can't imagine how hard this must be for him."

"The doctors need him to go to therapy, but Kurt's stubborn and he'll probably refuse to go," Burt sighed. "If he does, would you mind talking to him? I have a funny feeling he'll listen to you way more than me."

"Of course," Blaine nodded. "I want Kurt to be OK. I'll do whatever I can to help."

Burt clapped him on the shoulder. "You're always welcome here," he said, smiling.

Blaine grinned, nodding and slipping into his car. Burt waved him off before trekking back to the house. He wandered through to the living room and stared as Kurt just sat there, unsure of what to do himself.

"Kurt," Burt said and his son looked in his direction, but not at him.

"Yeah?"

"Tomorrow, the doctor made an appointment with a therapist. They want you to talk to her," Burt told him, crossing the room to stand in front of Kurt.

"A therapist? I – Dad, no," Kurt sighed, dropping his head into his hands.

"Just give it a try, Kurt," Burt pleaded.

"I don't remember the attack, Dad," Kurt insisted, his voice pleading. "Please don't make me go."

"Just try it for one session," Burt begged, "and if you feel it doesn't help then we can forget it."

Kurt wrung his hands together nervously. "I – fine. Just one," he relented and Burt smiled in relief.

"Thank you," Burt exhaled, placing a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "What would you like for dinner?"

"Could we have some pasta?" Kurt asked, hopefully.

"Yeah, no problem. I'll start cooking now," Burt said.

"Dad?" Kurt asked and Burt turned, coming to a halt in the doorway that connected the living room and kitchen. "Could you turn the TV on? Just low. I know I can't see it but I can't stand the silence."

"Yeah, no problem," Burt replied. He switched it on and turned the volume down low, switching the channel to one of Kurt's favourite shows. Burt just wished he could do more for his son.

Burt drove Kurt to the therapist's in silence. Kurt had been quiet all morning and Burt knew that he didn't want to talk but he was sure that it would help. Burt pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine. He jumped out and Kurt slid out of his seat, closing the door behind him. He felt his way along the car and Burt took his arm, Kurt flinching at the sudden contact. It broke Burt's heart to know that his own son flinched if he so much as touched him.

"I'm sorry," Kurt whispered, sounding pained.

"It's OK, Kurt," Burt assured him gently. They walked inside and were greeted by an all-too-perky receptionist.

"Hi there. You must be the Hummels. Belinda will be out shortly."

"Thank you," Burt smiled and led Kurt over to a row of chairs. They waited in silence, Burt only looking up when a woman came out. She was short, with long dark hair and was of Asian heritage.

"Hello, I'm Belinda. You must be Burt and Kurt," she greeted warmly.

"Nice to meet you," Burt replied, standing up and shaking her hand. Kurt stood too and stuck out his hand. It was held a little too high but Belinda just smiled and shook it.

"If you would like to follow me," Belinda said and Kurt reached out to grab Burt. They followed Belinda in to a private room and she shut the door behind them. "Take a seat and make yourselves comfortable," Belinda told them kindly, gesturing to the couch, to which they obliged. She sat down opposite them and pulled out a note pad. "Now, these sessions are completely confidential Kurt, you father doesn't have to be present," Belinda explained. "We can talk about anything you like. The attack, the new school you'll be attending, your day, anything you like." Kurt nodded but stayed silent. "I'm also here to talk to you about the possibility of getting a cane or a guide dog."

"A guide dog?" Kurt echoed, perking up for the first time and Belinda smiled, taking note of this.

"Yes, to help you out," she clarified. "If you're not an animal lover then you can just use the cane but with the guide dog, you wouldn't need the cane all the time."

"I – I think I'd like that," Kurt said softly and Belinda made a note.

"We'll talk about that later," she grinned. "Right now I want to get to know you. Tell me about yourself."

Kurt swallowed and twisted his hands nervously. "What would you like to know?" He asked.

"What are your hobbies?" Belinda inquired. Burt listened to his son with a small smile as he listed his interests – talking about fashion and the musicals he liked and wished to see. Belinda made notes and commented when appropriate. They talked for the whole hour and when it was up, Belinda smiled warmly. "We're out of time today, but Kurt, I would like to see you once a week," she said. "Is that OK?"

Kurt bit his lip, seemingly deep in thought. "Yes," he decided eventually.

"Excellent," Belinda beamed, though his hesitation didn't go unnoticed. Kurt stood and Burt scrambled to his feet. "See you next week. Same time," she said. She took Kurt's hand and shook it and then did the same to Burt.

"Thanks," Burt told her gratefully, shaking the hand that was offered to him.

"Oh, before you go, your cane," Belinda reminded him, going to her desk and grabbing the cane that was propped up against it. She put it in Kurt's hands, which tightened their grip around it. It felt foreign in his grasp, he noted. It smelt brand new and the object was clean and rubbery under his palm.

"Thanks," Kurt smiled. Though it was funny-smelling and strange to hold, at least a cane meant some independence.

"You're welcome. Bye," Belinda raised a hand in parting and Burt nodded, leading Kurt out. They didn't talk until they got in the car and were driving home.

"Dad?" Kurt asked.

"Mm?" Burt grunted, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Thanks for making me go," Kurt said with a small smile.

"You're welcome, kid," Burt grinned. "I'm glad it helped."

Wes and David watched Blaine go to reach for his phone for the 16th time – they'd been keeping count – in the last ten minutes. It was lunch time and they were sitting in the cafeteria, along with several other Warblers. Blaine had been quieter than usual and Wes and David were growing increasingly more worried about their friend.

"Waiting for a call?" Wes asked and Blaine looked up in surprise.

"Pardon?" He raised an eyebrow, confused.

"You keep going for a phone," David explained and then grinned wickedly. "You wouldn't be waiting for call from a certain endearing spy, would you?"

Ever since Kurt had come to spy on the Warblers, they taken to teasing Blaine non-stop about his new-found companion. "I'm wondering if he's home so I can call him," Blaine explained, looking concerned as he saw that he didn't have any new messages or missed calls.

"Something wrong?" Wes asked, concerned.

"He was attacked a few days ago," Blaine told them quietly but loud enough so that the whole table heard. They shared worried glances, unsure of how to approach the situation.

"Is he OK?" Nick asked from beside Blaine.

"Not really. He's blind now," Blaine said, heavily.

Several pairs of eyes widened and Wes shook his head. "Blind? They blinded him?" He echoed, disgust written all over his face.

"Burt won't let him have many visitors but he let me go yesterday," Blaine explained. "Burt – Kurt's dad – was going to try getting him to go to therapy today."

"How did they – how did they blind him?" Jeff asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

"Kurt didn't tell me and I didn't ask," Blaine answered. "I'm worried about him."

"His whole life has just changed," David sounded sorrowful. "I'm worried about him, too."

"You should call him," Wes suggested, nodding to Blaine's phone. He nodded and quickly excused himself, heading out into the courtyard.

Kurt had given him his home phone number and Blaine dialled it. It rang once, twice, three times before Burt picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" He answered gruffly.

"Hello Sir, this is Blaine Anderson speaking."

"Oh, hey, Blaine. Shouldn't you be in school?" Burt asked.

"It's lunch time," Blaine assured him. "Am I interrupting?"

"Nah you're alright, kid. You want to speak to Kurt?" Burt guessed, smiling knowingly.

"Yes, please," Blaine chuckled.

"Hold on a minute," Burt said and Blaine waited patiently.

"Hello?" This time, it was Kurt who spoke and Blaine could hear his confusion.

"Hey Kurt, it's Blaine."

"Hi Blaine," Kurt greeted, his smile audible.

"How did it go today?" Blaine asked.

"How did you know I went to therapy?" Kurt questioned, suspicious.

"Your dad told me. He was afraid you wouldn't want to go," Blaine answered truthfully.

"Of course he did," Kurt muttered. "I went and it was...fine, I guess. They gave me a cane."

"How does it feel?" Blaine asked, sitting down on one of the benches that lined the courtyard.

"It feels weird, Blaine," Kurt sighed. "It's all rubbery and my hands will be ruined."

Blaine chuckled and Kurt huffed dejectedly. "I'm sure your hands will stay soft," Blaine assured him, blushing slightly.

"I feel like an old man," Kurt moaned, clearly unaware of Blaine's embarrassment, "and I can't even bedazzle it. I might even get you to do it, even though I can't appreciate the beauty of it, I can't let my lack of vision stop me from being fashion-forward."

Blaine chuckled. "I can honestly say that this is the first time anyone has ever asked me to bedazzle a cane, but I don't know why I'm surprised. Of course I'll do it for you, Kurt."

Kurt smiled. "But, failing that, I could get a guide dog," he continued.

"Is that something you'd like?" Blaine asked, perking up at the idea of a dog.

"Yeah, it would be nice. Nicer than a synthetic stick, that's for sure," Kurt said. The Dalton bell rang and Blaine groaned. "You have to go."

"Yeah. I'm sorry," Blaine winced.

"It's OK. I guess I'll talk to you later," Kurt said, sounding deflated.

"Can I come over after school?" Blaine suggested.

"It's over an hour away," Kurt replied, sceptically.

"I don't mind," Blaine assured him.

"Yeah, of course you can," Kurt breathed, smiling brightly.

"Cool, I'll see you then. Bye," Blaine beamed.

"Bye."

Blaine hung up and quickly hurried to his locker. Wes and David were leaning against it, waiting for his return.

"How is he?" Wes asked as soon as he was in earshot.

"Frustrated," Blaine answered, "but I'm going to go over there tonight to see him."

"Tell him we say hi," David grinned, "and make sure you come see us before you go. We'll have something for Kurt by then."

"It had better not be another exploding banner," Blaine warned and Wes and David just grinned, backing away slowly and melting into the crowd of students that swarmed the hallway.