Kurt smiled as his daddy tickled up his good arm, it was something that he always did when Kurt was hurt or upset. Tickling him made Kurt laugh and if Kurt was laughing then he wasn't thinking about being hurt.

"Daddy stop." He squealed, hitting his arm out playfully.

Burt smiled placing his hands on the sheet, it was nice seeing his son smile. The doctor had told him not to tell Kurt about his regression just yet, it would only confuse him and while his body was healing it would only make things worse. So Burt had played along, tickling him, reading him stories and playing with his hair as he fell asleep. Something that Kurt wouldn't ever allow now.

They'd been staying at the hospital for three days now and they were going home once they'd had the all clear from Kurt's doctor. Carol and Finn had been working on making Kurt's bedroom suitable for a nine year old, buying him a brand new toy tea set and some paper and pens. Kurt had already gone through an art pad drawing pictures for his daddy. Burt was trying to work up the courage on how to tell Kurt he wasn't a nine year old boy.

"Hey Kiddo, can we talk?" He started nervously.

"We are talking, daddy." Kurt said, grinning as he did.
"Good point." Burt chuckled. "Now, there's some things you need to know."

"Like what daddy?"

"Well, you know when you fell down the stairs?" Kurt nodded, looking up at his father with trust in his eyes. "You banged your head pretty bad and it sent your mind back a little."

"That doesn't make sense. My mind doesn't move. It stays in my head." Kurt frowned, looking up at his dad, confusion all over his features.

"Well, I know. But, you fell down the stairs as a sixteen year old boy and as you hit your head your mind's fallen back a bit and it's making you feel younger and you don't remember anything that's happened in the past seven years."

Kurt frowned even more and looked at the bed sheet. "I don't understand." He finally whispered.

"I know, and that's okay. I just had to tell you because when we go home, there are things that are going to be different."

"Like what?" Kurt mumbled, his hand picking at the bed sheets.

"Well we live in a new house, you have your own basement."

"Not my space sheets?" Kurt whispered. He loved his space sheets, it was the last thing his Mom had bought for him before she went to heaven.

"We can get you some new space sheets." Burt said softly, he hadn't realised how his son would take this. "And we've got you some more colouring books, and some toys."

Kurt nodded silently, his eyes watering. "Kiddo don't cry please." Burt whispered, pulling his son into as much of an embrace as he can.

"I don't understand daddy. Why don't I remember being sixteen?"

"Because you hit your head, that's why. You'll remember though, you're going to see a doctor every couple of days and they'll help bring the memories back."

"Am I a nice sixteen year old boy daddy? I don't want to remember if I'm horrible."

"Kurt, you're the best sixteen year old." Burt smiled. "You're amazing, and you're my son. I wouldn't want to change you for the world."

"Okay daddy." Kurt nodded and rests against him more. Burt held onto him tightly, wishing his arms could protect him from the whole world.