“The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.” - Vincent Van Gogh

Blaine felt like he was drowning. There were waves crashing over his head and each time he surfaced he was dragged back under by them, only able to gasp for short breaths and feel the aches in his body from struggling so hard against the pull of the water. No matter how hard he kicked or paddled to move up, he was pulled further down so that all he could see over him was the roof of the water's surface where lightning and storm clouds threatened to attack him if he got close.

Each time Blaine felt himself gain consciousness, what he wanted to do first was open his eyes and call for Kurt, but all he could do was scream in agony. His body hurt. He thought that with time his nerves would have dulled to the electrical spasms that seemed to run up and down him, but he found instead that they were being stimulated in one way or another. He felt his stomach being poked at, as if someone was digging into him from the inside out. He felt stinging against the cuts on his back. He felt his jaws burning and the sharp pricking pain that went straight into his brain. Everytime he felt anything, it was so hard, so forceful, that it knocked him back into unconsciousness, back under the waves.

He also heard voices every time he woke up, but with the way his ears felt like they were plugged with water, he couldn't make it out. Blaine was aware that he was never left alone since the time he had passed out in the cage though. The voices he heard assured him of that. He was also quite sure that his condition was worse than he originally thought when he had first passed out after reaching the camp of the Others.

The fever was the first sign of how bad things were. The first time he woke up, he felt his body shivering, and yet, he wasn't cold but swelteringly hot. His hair was slicked against his head with his own sweat and that was also the point he managed to get anything more than a whine out of his mouth. However, it wasn't anything useful, like words; instead he vomited what little stomach acid he had left in him against the ground and then collapsed back into it as his body gave out again.

After that he awoke periodically, and that's when he heard the voices and felt his body protest in every imaginable way. Eventually, he had a difficult time discerning what was sleep and what was reality as his slumber was dreamless except for the waves that carried him wherever they pleased. He floated on them, half in and half out as the storm raged in quiet blackness overhead, and accepted the emptiness he felt. That was, at least, until an angel spoke to him.

“Blaine… come on… drink some water.”

At first he thought he was finally dead, that his body had had its last straw and given out, but then the voice came above him again, coaxing him to sip water. So he did, or at least tried to by puckering his lips, and for the first time the water he had been existing within felt real, rushing gently against his lips in a slow, cool dribble. He forced his eyes open then and despite them being glazed over with white frost, they still revealed his angel above him.

Kurt.

He wanted to yell, sing to the heavens, and jump up in joy, but his body prevented all that, and no sooner had he realized that not only was he not dead, but that he had also found Kurt, he was under the waves again. This time though, he paddled as hard as he could, trying to find land or at least a place where the water was calm and with each stroke he felt himself grow stronger. More and more he found himself conscious, still for only seconds at a time, but long enough to see that Kurt was always there, always giving him those half-smiles he wore when he was trying to show Blaine that he was happy he was there, but not big enough to make himself seem too excited.

His ears emptied themselves over time as well, and soon he could hear not just Kurt's beautiful voice, but the language of the Others. At times his limited vision not only held Kurt's face, but that of of those white-eyed Others, of which there was apparently more than the one he had seen back at the lake. Blaine's body still felt wrecked, but it wasn't knocking him back out each time he got up, and so, when he finally surfaced from his constant coma for more than a moment, he tried to speak.

“...ur…” he managed, discovering his tongue and jaws were still quite swollen and sore, making it difficult to make the sharp K and T sounds belonging to his husband's name.

“Blaine,” was the brittle response from the face above him, and Blaine was sure he could see a couple tears peaking out from the corners of Kurt's eyes. It made the burning in his gums and the ache in his throat all worth it though, and he tried to smile, wincing at the strain it took to pull the corners of his mouth upwards.

“It's okay… you're going to be okay,” Kurt soothed him, and that's when Blaine found himself not only gifted with Kurt's face and voice, but also the touch of his fingers as they ever so delicately trailed down Blaine's cheek before pulling back far enough to not be touching, but close enough to still radiate warmth. It was reminiscent of the way Kurt cared for Blaine when he got sick, taking care of him much the way Blaine remembered his own mother caring for him as a boy. He loved it, and Blaine could have died then and been alright with it.

He didn't stay awake for long though. The effort was too much for his body to maintain and so he fell into sleep once more despite trying to fight it off. However, it was the start of Blaine beginning to mend, not only physically, but mentally as well. Now he could heal from the months of separation from Kurt. In his heart, he knew Kurt's words were right. Everything would be okay now.

The hardest thing was being patient with himself. He was frustrated with his inability to stay awake for any length of time, and then with his inability to speak. Food was hard to keep down, and the liquidized meals Kurt teaspooned into him were disgusting. He ate them though, forcing himself to swallow down the vile stuff that Kurt assured him would help him get better. His throat would burn with each sip that slid down into him, and he would suffer through the aftertaste for hours until a fresh supply of slop was fed to him. Moreover, he realized that he was missing several teeth, mostly molars, after letting his tongue skim over the inside of his mouth. It was from the side of his face where he had taken that first punch from Sebastian's goons, and Kurt continually scolded him for wiggling his tongue in the fresh spaces whenever he was awake.

“You're just going to irritate your tongue and make it take longer for those spots on your gums to heal up.”

He tried to listen, to be grateful to be alive and in Kurt's company, but his body was less compliant than his mind wanted it to be. Not only was it constantly inflamed, but it also refused to move, making the novelty of moving his tongue the only thing he could do in the minutes he was awake. He felt as trapped as he had when he had been unconscious, but it seemed even worse because now Kurt was there, teasing him with his mere presence, and Blaine could do little about it.

“It's going to take you awhile to heal up… you have a lot of broken bones and stitching…”

“Mmm…” was Blaine's way of acknowledging Kurt's words without putting too much effort into speaking. Kurt seemed to know how irritated Blaine was with his own body, and reassured him regularly that things would get better, not worse, with time.

He just had to wait.

The best thing was that every time he woke up, Kurt was there. Kurt never left him, and Blaine had to wonder when Kurt was eating and relieving himself. After a period of time (and Blaine had no idea just how much time passed each time he blacked out), he registered that he wasn't in a room, or even in a proper bed. When he felt the warmth around his body flood away from him and white-eyed Others come around with pitchers of fresh, warm water, he realized he was sleeping in a small pool of some kind.

“The water is helping your cuts and bruises heal up,” Kurt noted to him, following Blaine's eyes to the steamy water being poured around him and warming him back up.

Blaine wasn't sure how water helped, and the first thing that popped into his mind was how wasteful it was to use water in such a way. Then he remembered that the Others were the ones controlling the water and it probably wasn't in such short supply as it was for humans. They could afford to let him float in it.

Kurt wasn't always alone with Blaine and the white-eyed ones. On one occasion when Blaine woke up, it was to hear Kurt's voice and that of another Other. He kept his eyes shut on hearing them, not wanting to interrupt Kurt's conversation, of which he could only understand one half of.

“I'm not going back to training.”
“She was reporting back to Finavar about me.”
“I wasn't learning anything anyhow.”
“I'm fine here.”
“No. I won't leave him alone.”
“Because, quite frankly, I don't trust them and I just don't want to leave him.”
“It makes perfect sense.”
“If you don't understand, that's your problem, not mine. It's not my job to make you understand.”
“Fine then.”

That was the end of the conversation, and once Blaine heard footsteps move away, he opened his eyes and let them focus on the back of Kurt's head, looking away towards where the footsteps had trailed off.

“..Kur..?”

His husband spun on his feet and what had clearly been a sad face, with his eyes and mouth frowning, lightened up immediately. “Hey… you hungry?”

It was less a question and more of a statement of what was to come. So Blaine ate, or at least allowed himself to be fed, grimacing with each spoonful, which had Kurt smirking and snickering at him. “Well at least the swelling has gone down enough that you can make faces about it.”

He was never sure how much time passed between each waking, and he got the distinct feeling that it was longer than it felt. Kurt always looked so relieved when he woke up, and Blaine wished he could communicate clearly enough to ask questions about his condition. All he was capable of, for the first while at least, was looking at Kurt and uttering out one word at a time, usually Kurt's name.

The next time Blaine was awakened by Kurt in conversation, the voice of the Other that Kurt was speaking to was much more stern and orotund, and it seemed like Kurt was arguing with him.

“No. I don't want to know actually.”
“I keep telling everyone that I'm not going to leave him here with them. I don't care how trustworthy you think they are because I don't trust them.”
“You'd have to force me to get me out of here.”
“Then I guess I'm an idiot.  Doesn't mean I'm leaving here.”
“I will bathe when I'm more comfortable with his wellbeing. If I stink, that's your problem, not mine. You don't have to come by after all.”
“When he's better, we'll move to my place.”
“What?!”
“Well they're assholes -”
“He's human. He can't do a damned thing to them.”
“Is this why you came here?”
“You know what? Just go. We have nothing to speak about.”

Again footsteps left Kurt behind, though this time when Blaine opened his eyes he could clearly see Kurt's profile, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed, and with his patented angry glare that was usually reserved for engines that wouldn't let themselves be fixed.

Blaine usually stayed away from him when he had that face on.

Though once Kurt saw that he was awake, the anger fell off his features and Blaine was greeted with a gentle stroke of Kurt's hand against his bearded cheek. “Hey… did I wake you? Sorry.”

Blaine offered Kurt a hum of appreciation, leaning his face into Kurt's hand as much as he could given how stiff his neck was. He didn't know what problems Kurt was facing with the Others, but he knew that he could at least show Kurt how thankful he was for what Kurt was doing for him.

One of the worst things about his state was the humiliation. Even when Blaine had caught a bad cold or flu, he had never been reduced to being completely immobile, and it was only ever Kurt that had taken care of him. Now he had those white-eyed things constantly around him, which became worse when he realized that except for his bandages, he was otherwise undressed. Kurt insisted on washing him though, very carefully sponging him over and ever mindful of his sore spots, and Blaine half-wished that Kurt would one day need to be taken care of so Blaine could repay the favor. Blaine would be happy to soap up and rinse his naked husband.

On a regular basis, Blaine's bandages were changed, and that was when he began to get a better sense of the room he was in because he had to be rolled onto his side to get the ones on his back replaced. The room was smaller than it had seemed when he first started waking up, and had various hand drawn diagrams of anatomy on the walls. It looked like it could have been a doctor's office had it not been for the bed made of chairs, a blanket, and pillow in one corner. A bed which he realized must have been where Kurt was resting.

“You… should… sleep…” he managed to get out to Kurt when he saw that set-up, guilt immediately eating him up from the inside. That set-up in the corner looked more uncomfortable than any of the beds they had slept on during any runs they had made back at home, and was certainly worse than their shared bed.

“I'm fine,” Kurt insisted, working alongside the white-eyed Other on cleaning Blaine's back. “When you can get into a proper bed, then I'll sleep beside you.”

It was a nice thought, and one Blaine dozed off to the image of. One day, he would be able to cuddle up alongside Kurt again, hold him in his arms and never let him go. One day things would be normal again.

In the meantime, Blaine did his best to be a good patient. He ate what was offered, took his medicine, let them flex his arms and legs so they wouldn't atrophy from disuse, and tried to speak more each time he woke up.

“Where… are… we?” he asked as Kurt worked on trimming his beard, which had attained what Kurt insisted was ‘mountain-man' status - and not in a good way.

“They call it their capital… it's a land under the ocean,” Kurt answered as he snipped off chunks of the beard and tossed it into a basket to his side.

“How?”

“Protective barriers of some kind. I don't fully understand the magic… but they've been living under the ocean for centuries. They've always been on Earth, but went into hiding under water at some point.”

“Why?”

His husband shrugged up his shoulders, and then shook his head at the mass of dark curly beard he dumped into the basket. “Did you honestly stop dealing with this when I left? I'm barely able to put a dent into it.”

That stopped Blaine's line of questioning into the Others as he let himself be groomed. Once Kurt was done with his beard (which admittedly felt a lot better when it was gone), Kurt trimmed up the long strands of hair that were coiling around Blaine's ears, cheeks, and neck, all the while chastising him for letting it get so bad.

“They say you're doing alright… healing as fast as any human they've-” Kurt began but then switched gears mid-sentence, sometime after Blaine began to be able to stay awake for longer periods of time. “Anyhow. You're healing up okay and then we can go to my place.. or.. well a place of our own anyhow.”

“Why not your place?” Blaine uttered.

“It's an apartment… and meant for one individual, not two… and the council here has also expressed that you, I mean we, might be better off living just outside the main city… it's more open there. You'll like it.”

Blaine knew he wasn't operating at full capacity yet, but he knew when Kurt wasn't being completely honest. Regardless, he looked forward to being alone with Kurt again, even if it was in the midst of those pointy-eared creatures. It was what he had sacrificed so much for after all.  Together they could figure out what Blaine could do to make himself useful and they'd start anew. Maybe even get a new dog.  

Though no dog could truly replace Pudding.

The day when Blaine could sit up was a major victory, not only for himself, but for Kurt, whom Blaine could see was elated by the development by the way his eyes lit up. It was the first time Blaine had seen his legs in a long time, and despite the progress he was disgusted by how bony and scarred his legs were.

“Hey. It's okay. We'll fatten you up and you'll be your old self,” Kurt assured him.

“Easy for you to say,” Blaine grunted. “You look healthier than you've ever been. This place agrees with you.”

Kurt was quiet for a moment, and Blaine swallowed nervously. He had said it out of misplaced agitation, and while it was true, he knew based on Kurt's conversations with the Others alone that Kurt didn't completely see himself as one of them.

“It's easy not to starve here, and I'm not exactly worked as hard as I was in the community either,” Kurt finally said, allowing Blaine to breath in relief that he wasn't going to stir up Kurt's ire.

That was also the day Blaine began to eat solid food again, though the way Kurt cut it down into tiny pieces made him feel like he was a toddler. It also meant that it took longer for him to get through the food that Kurt insisted he would like - something that proved to be false, as Blaine discovered after almost auto-ejecting a piece of something green and bitter from his mouth.

“Well, we can try something different for supper,” Kurt said after Blaine forced down the last bite. “I like it though.”

“I can't complain if I'm not making it,” Blaine grumbled.

“You complain with your eyes and face, Blaine. You don't always need to say it aloud.”

His husband knew him too well.

Knew him so well, in fact, that Kurt was able to see when Blaine needed help adjusting or just needed a scratch in an itchy spot he couldn't reach, and would take care of it without Blaine saying anything. Kurt would help him relieve himself (the worst of the humiliation) into the Other equivalent of a bedpan and clean him up without judgement or any commentary. He was there to wipe Blaine's forehead when the fever came back and there to add warm water when Blaine was cold. Not once did Blaine see or hear him upset over having to do so much, and not once did Blaine regret following after him.

“We're going to try standing today.”

Blaine winced at the thought of moving his legs, still so sore, when Kurt told him that after what he presumed was supposed to be his breakfast, but managed to make a little nod in his husband's direction. He wanted to get better, if only to take the stress off Kurt from the burden he felt like.  

Standing, it seemed though, was ninety percent getting upright and ten percent leaning against the table. Overall the effort took about an hour and left Blaine panting for breath. Still, he forced himself through the shockwaves of pain travelling up his legs, into his spine, and up into his brain. If he could stand, he would be closer to walking, and walking meant getting out of the stale, small room for them both.

“I wish they had wheelchairs here…” Kurt scowled as he helped Blaine sit back down.

“I'm glad they don't... it would be embarrassing.“

“I could at least get you out of here for a bit if they had something. People here though… they tend not to get hurt.”

Blaine lingered for a moment on how Kurt used the term ‘people' to describe Others. The more he remained conscious, the more he picked up on little things like that. Kurt might not consider himself one of them, but he had accepted them as something on the same level to call them people. He talked about his apartment there, his schedule, a tea place he'd take Blaine to, and other things that made him seem more settled than he would probably admit. On one hand, Blaine was glad Kurt hadn't seemed to have suffered through the last few months; on the other hand, he was jealous.

The question of how Blaine's injuries came to be arose when he was sitting up and letting Kurt change the bandages on his back. Fingers traced between the spaces where he felt the cuts on his back and Kurt's voice came behind him in an angry whisper.

“Who did this to you?”

Honestly, Blaine was surprised Kurt hadn't asked earlier, but surmised that Kurt didn't want to rile him up if that became the case. “Sebastian and the other Warblers we ousted from the community…”

Kurt cleared his throat and let his fingers slide around to Blaine's sides, settling there carefully as Blaine felt Kurt's lips gently press against the top of his back. He didn't say anything else as he proceeded to wipe over the wounds or place a fresh bandage over them, and Blaine wondered if Kurt had even heard his response. The Kurt he knew would have become instantly incensed and sworn revenge, not coolly continued his care of his husband.

“... they've started up their own community not far from the coast. I came across them when I was travelling there and they captured and beat me before turning me in to the Others.”

Again Kurt cleared his throat, swallowing down hard and averting his eyes from Blaine's as he came around to Blaine's front side and checked the bandages on his torso.

“Your incision stitching is almost healed up…”

“Kurt… “

His husband shook his head, still avoiding his eyes. “No… I'm sorry I asked.”

“Why?”

“Because I can't do anything about it. We're under the water. As much as I want to go up there and shoot an arrow in his ass, I can't.”

That was more like the man Blaine called his husband.  

“You're trapped down here forever?”

Kurt nodded sadly, leaning against the table Blaine was still sitting up on, trying to improve his stamina at the otherwise simple task.  

“I made a deal that the community would be unharmed and untouched so long as I came…. “

“And what deal did you make for me?”

Kurt shook his head.  “I… “

“I heard you talking to Others sometimes when I was in and out of sleep… they didn't want me here, did they? You had to make a deal.”

“They're just afraid of you.”

Blaine snorted softly. The very thought that Others, with all their powers, would be scared of him was laughable. “That's ridiculous.”

“I know. They think you might try to attack them or something.”

“I wouldn't do anything that would take me away from you.”

Kurt nodded, looking towards the ground where he was nudging his toe into the floor. “I know that. They don't.”

“Should I be worried?”

A sigh, and then Kurt was glancing up at the ceiling absently. “I don't think they'll try to hurt you… but I still don't want to leave your side.”

“I'm okay with that,” Blaine offered in way of a joke. “But, honestly angel, you can probably go and wash up and get a proper sleep in a proper bed. I'm not going anywhere and I feel like if they were going to do anything to me, you wouldn't exactly have gotten in their way anyhow.”

“Angel…” Kurt mouthed, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a grin before he brought his chin down so he could flash that grin towards Blaine. “Are you saying I stink?”

“Never,” Blaine grinned back, lifting a hand and reaching out for Kurt. “Now c'mere so I can kiss you.”

Kurt was tender with him, the most shy he had ever been in terms of the affection part of their relationship, but Blaine figured it had to do with how broken he was. Kurt didn't want to hurt him was all. Once he was better, they could have more than chaste little kisses again. God knew he was having a difficult time thinking unsexy thoughts whenever Kurt washed him down there.

“I need to tell you something...” Kurt told him on the day they had begun working on walking with Blaine, who was stumbling and tripping more than walking. “... it's my fault you're not all better yet.”

Blaine furrowed his brows up, trying to think back to see if he could remember Kurt somehow hindering the healing process, though all he could come up with were the recent memories of Kurt caring for him. “I don't understand…”

“Somehow I made it so magic wouldn't work on you… either to hurt you or heal you… and if I could figure out how to reverse that… then a healer could just… do their thing and fix you,” Kurt uttered quietly, eyes watching Blaine's small footsteps.

“So that's why they couldn't kill me…” Blaine murmured thoughtfully, recalling how the hands of Others kept falling away from him back on land. “... If someone tried to hurt me with a sword or dagger though… would it -”

“If the weapon was made with magic, then it would have stopped it.”

“Well… all things being equal Kurt, I think it's better that I'm alive and feeble as hell than decapitated - don't you think?”

His husband let out one of his long, exasperated sighs and looked up. “Yes, but if I could remove the spell or curse…or whatever the hell I did to you, then you wouldn't have to be suffering now.”

Blaine looked over himself. He was sore, weak, and has discolorations from scars all over. The bruises had faded, and his bones were mending. He needed to eat more, but that was a slow process of acclimating to the food available and letting his stomach expand to a normal size.

“Do I look like I'm suffering?”

“You don't look healthy.”

It was his turn to sigh then as he shuffled towards Kurt, akin to an old man in need of a walker, and set a hand on his shoulder. “I'll get there. You'll make sure of it, I know.”

“You'd better. I'm the only Quarterling in this place and you'll be the only Human here. We need to be able to stand tall and be confident,” Kurt asserted as he reached to support Blaine by the arms.  

“That doesn't bother me,” Blaine responded, pulling his arms away from Kurt. He had to be able to walk on his own, without support.

Kurt pulled his arms back, though it wasn't lost on Blaine how he still kept them up just in case he needed to catch Blaine. “It might not now… but if we end up here for a lifetime, it could.”

“Kurt. I came here for you. That's all I want. I don't care about them.”

Kurt sighed, watching Blaine force himself to scoot across the floor with gritted teeth and finally relenting by folding his arms over his chest. “They'll be your neighbours… the ones you go to for food and drink and supplies… they're the ones you'll see on the street each day… Blaine, as much as I find the notion of what you did romantic, it also means that you're giving up a lot. That family we created out of friends and their kids, the job you worked hard at - all those things mean nothing here now. You're starting from scratch and I'm worried that it'll eat at you.”

Blaine reached the wall and held a hand against it, taking in a deep breath. Walking was hard on stiff legs. How the hell did babies have the energy for it? Still, pride forced him to let go of the wall and work back towards the table. “Kurt, you lived in that community for years and never really fit in, especially after what happened when Sebastian made his deal with the devil and people started getting ideas about your background. If you were able to do that there, I can do it here.”

“I hope you're right Blaine,” Kurt murmured, glancing over Blaine as he shuffled along. “Because you're looking like we might be able to move out of this place and into one of our own.”