Once home again, a hurried packing session ensued.  Kurt insisted on bringing pajamas, no matter what they said about being gowned, along with a robe and slippers.  It was decided not to bring his laptop for now; Blaine would have it backed up so if something happened to it all the data could be recovered, then bring it later.  A small personal Blu-ray player and Kurt's favorite movies went into the bag, along with an iPod dock and his iPod.  Finally, a few books, some from his selections and some from Blaine's, went into his messenger bag, along with a sketchbook, notebook, and his pencils.  It was decided that Blaine or Jenna would bring him work, but take it away when he wasn't working on it to prevent theft or, just as bad, premature leaking of designs.  After packing, it was time to go to the hospital.

Getting checking into the hospital was a confusing process of paperwork and insurance and questions before an orderly showed up with a wheelchair to take Kurt to his room.  Kurt stared at the chair with disdain.  “No.”  It wasn't a question.  It was an outright refusal to get to his room in any way other than under his own power.

“But sir, it's just hospital policy.”  The orderly attempted to explain.

What he failed to take into account was that Kurt didn't care.  He'd never really complied with rules unless he wanted to, picking and choosing those he felt applied to him.  In the end, faced with having to explain he'd let a seriously ill cancer patient leave without treatment over a dispute about complying with the hospital's wheelchair policy or letting Kurt have his way, the orderly gave up.  Blaine carried Kurt's overnight bag, while Kurt carried his messenger bag.  The orderly managed to adapt fairly well to his new role as tour guide, showing them where they could purchase food within the hospital, giving somewhat humorous reviews of the quality of food and service in each location, pointing to the various gift shops, and explaining the patient snack stations on the cancer floor, where Kurt's room was located.  Finally, they arrived at Kurt's room, a small private corner room far from the elevator and the nurse's station.  “The advantage to being here is it's a lot quieter than most of the floor, and you can at least have some hope that the nurses will feel less compelled to bother you all the time.  The disadvantage is that if you need one of them, it can take a few minutes for them to get here, and some people have a hard time finding it.”  The orderly said.  “Welcome home.”

“This is not, and never will be, home.  And I don't intend to have many visitors, so I don't need to be easy to find.”  While Kurt had apparently accepted defeat in his battle not to be hospitalized, it was clear he was not planning to accept it gracefully.

“I'll leave you to settle in.  The nurse will be in shortly.”  The orderly was clearly in over his head in dealing with Kurt, and knew it.  He was looking for a means of escape by this time, and was visibly relieved to be leaving.

“Kurt, Baby, he was just trying to help.  Please don't lash out at people who are just trying to make things better for you.”  Blaine pleaded.  Kurt brought his head up and Blaine found himself on the receiving end of a full-blown diva bitch glare.  “Fine.  Try this.  Don't be bitchy to people trying to help you who don't know you.  You can continue to abuse the rest of us if you feel it's necessary.”

Kurt turned his back and walked across the room to stand by the built in couch under the window.  He seemed unwilling to touch anything in the room.  Blaine walked over to him and tried to rub his back, but he stiffened under the gentle touch.  Finally, Blaine gave up, backing away and slumping into one of the two chairs in the room to await the nurse.

After what seemed like hours, but was in reality a few minutes, a tall brunette wearing royal blue scrub pants and a tie-dyed scrub top came in.  “Hi, I'm Miranda.  I'm going to be your nurse this afternoon and evening.”  She walked over to a white-board, visible from the bed.  As she wrote her name and a few others on the board, she told them, “Everyone who is responsible for your care at any given time will write their name on the board, so you'll always know who to call and what our names are.  Don't worry about trying to remember – sometimes chemo can mess with your short term memory.  You've got a pretty full afternoon scheduled, so why don't we get started?  Your gown is on the bed.  Your . . .” She looked at Blaine.

“Husband.”  Kurt supplied shortly.

“. . . Husband and I can step out for a minute while you put it on.”

“I brought pajamas.  I would prefer to wear them.”  Kurt told her. 

“Most days that'll be okay, but at least until later tonight we need you in the gown.  We have some tests to run, and you'll need to be gowned for them, and we need to get your central line started, and they'll want you gowned for that as well.”  She said matter-of-factly.

“What?”  Kurt asked.

“Did you want to know about the tests or the central line?”  She asked.

“What is a central line?”  Kurt clarified.

“It's a catheter that we place into a large vein in your chest.  It can stay in a lot longer than a regular IV, and it lets us give you multiple medications and draw blood without having to do lots of separate needle sticks.”  Miranda explained.

“How long?  How long will it be there?”  Kurt questioned.

“At least as long as you're here.  You may go home with it.”  She told him.  “Don't worry.  If you do go home with it, we'll teach you how to take care of it.”

“I don't want to go home with it.”  Kurt informed her.

“That'll be up to your doctor.  We'll just have to see what she feels is appropriate when you're to that point.”  She said, ignoring Kurt's murderous glare.  “Do you prefer to be called Kurt or Mr. Hummel-Anderson?”

“I don't care.”  Kurt wasn't going to make anything easy for anyone this afternoon.

Miranda turned to Blaine.  “If you'll just step out with me, Mr.-“

“Hummel-Anderson, but Blaine's fine; it's less confusing that way.”  Blaine said, starting to follow her.

“He can stay, it's not like he's never seen me naked,” Kurt pointed out, thinking bitterly to himself that's how we ended up here to begin with.

“I have a few matters to discuss with him, so we'll just give you some privacy,” she told him, indicating to Blaine that he should step out.  He did so, and she followed and closed the door.

“He seems pretty resistant to this process,” she said, looking at Blaine.

“Yeah.  Not that anyone would ever choose this, and not that it wouldn't be frightening for anyone, but he's terrified, and he tends to lash out when he's scared.  His mom died of cancer when he was eight, and he hasn't put much faith in the medical profession since.  Add to that the fact that he's a pretty private person about almost everything, and especially about his body.  He really doesn't like anyone other than me to touch him much.  Handshakes are okay, hugs from a close friend or relative, but nothing else.  So people poking and prodding, not to mention knowing details about his body, and how it's functioning, are just nothing short of torture to him.”  Blaine explained.

With a concerned look, Miranda continued, “He indicated to the orderly that there wouldn't be many visitors.  Is there any family?  Do you have any friends?  Support will be really important throughout this process, not only for him, but for you as well.”  Some people simply had no friends or family close, but it hadn't taken long working as a nurse in New York for Miranda to have encountered a number of gay people whose family and old friends had turned their backs on them upon realizing they were gay; in some of those cases, the betrayal had caused them to close themselves off to potential friendships due to fear of being hurt again.

Blaine smiled at that.  “You may end up kicking a lot of people out of here.  We have three kids.  They're grown and out of the house, but still live in Manhattan.  Our fathers have both passed away, but we still have my mother and Kurt's stepmother, as well as our brothers and Kurt's sister-in-law and our nieces and nephews, although most of them still live in Ohio.  And then there are our friends.  They're scattered all over the world, really, but a lot of them are here.” 

Miranda looked confused.  “I saw a note saying he was an only child.”

“Finn is his stepbrother, but they're close,” Blaine explained.  “And I have one brother.”

“No sister-in-law for you?”  She asked jokingly.

“I've had a few, but I don't have one at the moment,” Blaine said, “Coop is not noted for his fidelity, and his wives have tended to object.”

“Well, I'm glad you two aren't alone.  I get the feeling Kurt won't be telling the people important to you what's going on, so you need to.  I would suggest telling one person who knows most of the others, and letting that person take over the job of communicating with everyone else.”  Miranda was truly relieved that they had support.

“Can I stay with him at night?  He's never been in the hospital, at least not overnight.  He might be less scared if I can stay with him.”  Blaine was practically begging.

“As long as he's not too sick, we generally permit it, but we don't recommend it.  While none of this is ‘normal' you do need to keep going, maintain your life at home.  You need to be careful.  If you aren't, you'll find that your world shrinks down to that room and this hallway.  You need to try to go to work, shop, spend time at home and with friends outside of here, even if Kurt can't.  You're going to be here a lot, I know, but try to keep a balance.”  She urged. 

Blaine had trouble envisioning doing any of those things without Kurt.  He knew he could.  Realistically, he was usually by himself for most or all of the months of February and September, and often felt like he might as well be during January and August.  But that was different.  Kurt was out being the driven, spectacular person he was, soaking up the accolades that flowed his way.  Now, Kurt was scared and ill and about to be in pain, and Blaine couldn't picture leaving him alone that way.

She continued, “And, on that topic, if he didn't bring much from home, you might want to bring him some things.  Pictures are good, a favorite blanket or throw, especially if it's soft – we have plenty, of course, but they aren't necessarily the nicest blankets out there.  That sort of thing.  Unfortunately, this will be where he lives for several weeks, and it needs to be as pleasant and home-like as it can be for him.  Believe it or not, it can make a big difference in his morale, which can affect how he handles treatment, which is important.” 

“Time to face the dragon,” Miranda proclaimed with a rueful smile as she reached past Blaine's shoulder to knock on the door.  “Are you ready, Kurt?”

“Does it matter?”  Came the response.

Miranda chuckled a little as she pushed open the door.  As she did so, a tiny girl with a flaming red ponytail approached, asking if it was okay to go in.  “Sure, but I need to warn you, he's a little grumpy.”

“That's fine.  I don't blame him, but he should be aware that I'm pretty grumpy today too.”  The red-head said.  Entering, she introduced herself.  “Hi, Mr. Hummel-Anderson.  I'm Dr. Mary-Beth Cassidy, and I'm a surgeon.  In a few minutes I'm going to be putting in your central line.  I'm sure you have a lot of questions, but before you start asking, I'm going to answer a few that I get asked every day, so we can get them out of the way.  Yes, that's really my name; yes, I'm Catholic; and no, I'm not a nun, nor have I ever had any leaning in that direction, just crazy parents who had to give me a name that sounds like one.  Oh, and if you make any jokes about any of the aforementioned, you just might find out that I have a pretty good right hook the same way my brother did.  And his name is James, before you ask.  How unfair is that?  I get Mary Elizabeth and he gets a normal person name.”  By the time she finished speaking, Kurt was smiling at her tirade.  Blaine loved her for that alone.

Kurt laughed, “Are you allowed to hit your patients?”

“Beauty of being a surgeon,” she answered, “If I break you, I can fix you.”

Remembering the reason she was there, Kurt, who was sitting uncomfortably on the bed, asked, “What's involved in putting in the central line?”

“We're going to take you to the OR as a precaution.  It's just safer to do it there.”  That made Kurt nervous; it implied that there was a chance something could go really wrong.  Dr. Cassidy continued, “Once you're there, we're going to numb you up.  I'll use a numbing cream, then give you a local.  Then we'll get your line inserted into a large vein in your chest, and then you're on your way back here.”

The numbing cream was new, and Kurt wondered aloud why she used it.  “I know the local is just a good hard pinch, but why should you feel it if you don't have to?”  She responded.  Kurt liked that.  She, of all the doctors so far, was the only one who had seemed to be concerned not only about his health, but his comfort as well.  He didn't know why, but that calmed him down; even though this required a trip to the OR, he felt safe with this tiny pixie of a woman.

“They keep calling it a ‘bee sting.'”  Kurt told her.

“Nah.  A bee sting's really worse; I've been stung and it hurts like a bitch.”  She said.  “I know they're supposed to be good for the environment and all, but I can't stand ‘em.  Besides, anything they can pollinate, I can kill.  I have the ultimate black thumb.”

Kurt found himself laughing again.  “What about pets?  Can you have those?”

She thought for a minute, then answered.  “All I've had are fish.  Actually, considering my track record with fish, it's probably good that I haven't had anything else.  Come to think of it, the safest place for any living thing in my vicinity might just be on my table.”

Miranda looked at Kurt's hand and interrupted, “Kurt, your ring.  There's no jewelry in the OR.  And honestly, it's better if you don't keep it here; it would be awful if anything happened to it.”

Kurt, having forgotten to remove it at home, started to tear up, and Blaine stepped over to the bed.  He kissed Kurt tenderly as he slipped off the ring, wondering when it had gotten so loose, and murmured, “It's okay, Baby, I'll keep it for you until you're ready to come home.”  He started to slip it onto his own finger, only to have Kurt stop him.

“Don't you dare stretch my ring, or get it stuck!”  Kurt's hands were bigger, his fingers longer, but they had always been slimmer than Blaine's.

Blaine laughed, and told him, “I'll get a chain to wear it on.  I promise I won't mangle your ring.”

An orderly came in with a gurney, telling them it was time for Kurt to go to the OR.  Kurt moved to the gurney.  He'd rather have walked, but felt exposed in the hospital gown, and on top of that, he was pretty sure he'd lose that particular policy fight.  As the orderly released the brakes, Dr. Cassidy told him she'd take Kurt herself.  He raised his eyebrows, but didn't argue.  She pushed Kurt down a hallway, and into an elevator.  As the doors slid open, he heard a gentle chime from the next elevator, and Dr. Cassidy got an impish grin on her face.  “Wanna race?”  She asked, and not waiting for an answer, she pushed the gurney as fast as she could down the hall.

Behind them, Kurt heard a voice exclaim, “Oh, no, you don't!  Not this time!”  This was followed by running footsteps.

Laughing, Dr. Cassidy pushed faster and called behind her, “Give up!  You'll never beat me.”  Looking at Kurt, she said, “I may be small, but I'm fast.”  Kurt found himself giggling as he was wheeled into the OR.  As she parked the gurney next to the operating table, she told him, “These lovely ladies,” indicating the nurses already in the room, “Will get you set up while I get scrubbed.  See you in a sec.”  With that, she winked and disappeared through the doors.

When she returned, gloved and masked, Kurt thought to himself that he should be nervous, but he wasn't.  As long as she was involved, everything would be fine.  She explained each step of the procedure to him as she performed it, regaling him with tales of gurney races and other hospital pranks engaged in by the younger staff members between explanations.  By the time she was done, he was relaxed and chatting with her about various stunts and pranks pulled at fashion shows and during the course of Broadway productions.  During the short time it took to insert the central line, they discovered in each other a match in intellect, wit, and bitchiness, and found that they enjoyed one another's company.  Kurt found himself wishing she was the doctor in charge of his care instead of Dr. Miles.

Again giving him personal service, Dr. Cassidy returned him to his room.  By this time, they were on a first name basis.  Preparing to leave, she told him Dr. Miles would be in shortly to do a lumbar puncture.  Blaine wasn't there.  Nervously, Kurt looked to her and said, “Could . . . could you do it?  Please?”

Taken aback, she said, “I have time.  Let me check with Dr. Miles.  I'm fine with it as long as she is.”  After a short phone call, she stepped into the hallway to instruct a nurse to get the supplies, and then came back in, washing her hands thoroughly and donning gloves in preparation.  “Ok, Kurt, roll on your side, facing the door, and bring your knees up to your chest.  I'm going to wash your back now.  It's going to be really cold.  Sorry.”  Kurt felt his gown being untied and moved aside.  As the fluid hit his lower back, Kurt gasped and instantly he was covered in goose bumps.  “I don't have the cream on this tray, so you'll feel a pinch when I numb you up.”  Kurt bit his lip, feeling the needle pierce his back.  Mary Beth waited several minutes, then tested to make sure he was numb.  Upon finding that he was, she said, “Okay, I need you to be really still.  I'm about to put the needle into your spine.  If you need to, you can hold your breath; just don't move.”  Kurt felt pressure.  After a minute, she told him, “I'm taking the needle out now.  All done.  Let me close your gown.  Now roll onto your back.  Okay, Kurt, you need to stay like this, flat on your back, for four hours.  You do not get up or change position, not for anything.  That includes using the bathroom.  If you need to use the bathroom, call a nurse.”  She placed the call button under his hand.  As she was giving instructions, the nurse assisting her left.

“Mary Beth?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” she said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder.  “Do you feel okay?”

The local in his chest was wearing off, allowing him to feel the protruding end of the central line, and the fact that it had several lines branching off of it.

“Yeah.  I just kind of feel like I have some sort of alien octopus escaping from my chest.”

She smiled.  “Yeah, but he's a cute little octopus.  You may end up with a headache or a backache from the LP.  If you do, call a nurse and we'll see what we can do.  I'll be back later to check on you.”  With that, she left, and Kurt was truly alone for the first time.

* * *

After Mary Beth had taken Kurt to the OR, Blaine left to make some calls.  The first, and hardest, was to Finn.  The first time he called, Finn didn't answer.  He hung up and called back immediately.  He didn't want to leave this news in a message, nor did he want to play phone tag while trying to notify other people.  Besides, he felt strongly that Kurt's family should be the first to know, and other than he and the kids, that meant Finn and Carole, and he didn't feel up to breaking the news to Carole.  Finally, Finn answered.  “Dude, what's up?  I have a class.  I had to step out, and God only knows what they're doing in there.”

Blaine's voice broke as he said, “Finn, it's Kurt.”

Finn's annoyance disappeared as he realized something was seriously wrong.  “Is . . . is he okay?”

“No,” Blaine answered as his tears started to flow, “he has leukemia, and I guess it's pretty bad.  He didn't want anyone to know until it was confirmed, but they told us this morning.  We told the kids over lunch.  He's already in the hospital, and they're doing all sorts of tests and procedures, and they say he's going to be there for a long time.”

“Oh, wow.  Um, what do you need me to do?”  Finn wasn't sure how to handle this, and suddenly it was hard to breathe.  This was his little brother.  Okay, technically Kurt was only a few months younger, and was his stepbrother, and hadn't even become his brother until they were juniors in high school, but since that time, he'd always thought of Kurt as his little brother, and felt a duty to take care of him.  The problem was, he had no idea how to take care of Kurt in this situation.

“I don't really know.  Call him, talk to him, listen to him.  If you can make it up here to visit, that would be good, but if you can't, I understand.  Oh, and can you tell Carole?  I have to tell so many people, and um, it's so hard, and I can't let Kurt see me cry, I have to keep it together for him, and for the kids, but apparently I can't talk to anyone else without breaking down.”  Blaine was trying to think of what Finn could do.

Finn responded, “Sure, Blaine.  Do you want me to call Mr. Schue or anyone else from the old glee club?  I'll tell Quinn, of course, and I'd be happy, well, not happy, but you know what I mean, I'll call anyone else from the old club and let them know.  Well, except Rachel.  I can't talk to her, you know that, so if you want her to know, you'll have to tell her.”

Relief flooded Blaine's body.  “Thank you so much.  If you would do that for me, it would be great.  That cuts the list of people I have to call about in half.  I'll tell Rachel and Adam, and our other friends here who aren't from the old club, and the Warblers, and the people at Kurt's office.”  He knew he was taking a chance that Santana would kill him for not calling himself, but hopefully she would understand.

Finn said, “Not a problem.  I'll talk to Quinn about our schedule and see when we can come, and we'll bring Mom.”  He felt better with a job to do.

“Thank you so much.  Carole might be a real help.  She can interpret all the medical stuff.  The doctors and nurses are really great about trying to put things in layman's terms, but sometimes I don't get all of it, or just want someone I know and trust to be able to translate.”  Blaine was grateful, and the thought of Carole being there was reassuring.  Although she was retired and didn't travel much, she made it a point to stay current on medical developments, a habit she had established while still active in nursing.

The next call was to Rachel, just to get it out of the way.  It was not a good call; as usual, she made it about her, going on and on about losing her best friend.  Blaine wanted to scream.  First, the doctors hadn't said Kurt was going to die.  It was serious, but they were talking about how to get him through this; they had never said he was terminal.  It wasn't something Blaine even wanted to contemplate, even though the thoughts kept creeping into his mind, as much as he tried to push them away.  Second, had she been there, he thought he would have shaken her, yelling ‘Your best friend?  He's my husband, for God's Sake!  I may lose my husband!'  And he just couldn't think about that now.  He got off the phone as soon as he could.

After that he called Adam, who answered after the first ring.  “Now are you going to tell me what's going on?  I had Evan grill Daniel and all he got was a lecture on confidentiality, which then led to a dissertation from Evan on the topic.  I just wanted to know what was going on, not be told all the reasons I couldn't be told.”

Without preamble, Blaine told him, “Kurt has leukemia.  It's bad.  They put him in the hospital today, and he's going to be there for a long time.”

For a minute, there was stunned silence.  Then Adam said, “Jesus.  How bad?  I mean, he's not going to . . . .”  His voice trailed off.

Starting to cry again, Blaine said, “I don't know.  I hope not.”

“What do you need me to do?”  Adam asked.

Laughing through his tears, Blaine answered, “The show must go on.  I have investors who have put money into my show, and it needs to get produced, but this is going to take a lot of my time and attention.  I'll be there as much as I can, but if you could take over and cover for me as much as possible when I'm not there, it would help.  Just take the meetings, make the decisions, and tell me when you talk to me.  And you just got promoted from assistant choreographer and assistant director to the real deal, at least when I'm not around.  If we have a different interpretation of something, yours will probably carry the day, because you'll be there day in and day out.  You'll do at least as well as I would given my current state of mind.  Other than that, just visit, call, let Kurt know he's not alone.  He doesn't want to tell anyone, but people have to know, and the doctors say he needs a lot of support, so he's being overruled.  And if he says not to come, ignore him.”

A few minutes later, they finished the call, Blaine preparing to make more calls, Adam's head reeling.  He was having trouble comprehending that one of his best friends, the man he had once loved, and with whom he had once imagined a life, was going through all of this. 

The next call was to Ben.  “Blaine, Sweetie, are you ready to tell me what the mystery was about last week?”

Sighing, Blaine repeated what had become a most unwanted mantra for him.  “Yeah.  Kurt has leukemia.  The doctors confirmed it this morning.”

The flamboyance dropped away.  Although he loved projecting his over the top image, he was truly a highly organized, successful business man, and more than anything, Ben was a good friend, and took care of those he was close to.  “What do you need?”

Blaine felt himself becoming overwhelmed.  “I don't even know anymore.  There are so many people I still have to tell, I have to take care of Kurt, and he's so scared by the situation, the hospital, oh, yeah, he's already in the hospital.  I just don't . . . .”

Ben interrupted.  “Stop.  If they've ever met you or Kurt and set foot on Broadway, I'll locate and tell them.  Tell me what you want people to know, and I'll take charge of disseminating information.  The doctors are taking care of Kurt.  Listen to me.  You have to take care of you, so you can take care of him when he comes home.”

“Thank you,” Blaine whispered.  They talked for a few minutes about who Ben should tell, and how, then Blaine hung up to continue his calls.

The next call was to Wes, then to David.  David, ever the official secretary, offered to tell the other Warblers who had been in the group with either Kurt or Blaine.  Blaine gratefully took him up on his offer.

As he hung up, his phone rang.  Santana.  Before he had a chance to say a word, he heard “Damn it, Hobbit, why didn't you call me?  I had to hear from Grown-Up Frankenteen?”

“I'm sorry, there are just so many people to tell, and I'm so overwhelmed, and I'm sorry and . . ..”  Blaine apologized.

Softening, Santana said, “It's okay.  Just let me know what I can do.”

“I will.  I just don't know right now,” Blaine promised.

After that call came one from Mr. Schuester.  He kept track of the glee club alumni, running a blog and website with news, and offered to be the contact point for information about Kurt.  Blaine accepted.  Ben was closest, and had contact with the widest circle, so Blaine called and asked him to keep Mr. Schue and David up to date, so they could keep everyone in their respective circles apprised of the situation.  Ben agreed, and Blaine gave him their contact information. 

Next, he called Jenna, told her what was going on, asked her to tell everyone at the office, and let her know she would have to bring work to Kurt when he felt up to doing it.  Finally finishing his calls, and feeling physically and emotionally exhausted, he headed back up to Kurt's room.

* * *

After Blaine hung up, Ben immediately called Adam.  “Have you heard?”

Adam didn't even need to ask what Ben was talking about.  “Yes.  What do we do?”  He knew Ben would have a plan.  Ben was organized and efficient, and always knew what needed to be done.

“First, you know Blaine won't leave Kurt alone any more than he absolutely has to, but living in the hospital won't be good for him, mentally or physically,” Ben said.

“Yeah.  I know.  He's already basically asked me to take over the new show.”

“I'm not surprised.  You will have to do a lot, but don't let him check out completely.  He needs to stay involved in something outside of the hospital.  We are going to have to organize a schedule of visitors, in part so that Kurt isn't overwhelmed, but also so that Blaine feels like there's someone there with him so that he'll leave.  We also have to make sure Blaine is eating and taking care of himself.  He's so focused on Kurt that he's going to neglect his own health.  We have to set up a schedule for taking meals to him, and maybe to Kurt as well, depending on what he can eat and whether he's allowed to have food from outside.  It'll be just like when Ellie was born, only without the childcare.”  Ben was ticking off the things to do and to organize.

“Thank God for that!”  Adam said emphatically.  It wasn't that he didn't like Kurt and Blaine's children; he did, especially now that they were adults.  It was just that some people weren't kid people; they did not want or need children, and really shouldn't have them.  It had nothing to do with being gay or straight:  he and Evan weren't child people, but neither was Rachel, who was decidedly straight.  Blaine and Kurt, on the other hand, were excellent parents and had always wanted children.  He had pitched in when Ellie was born, taking the boys at times, because you do that for friends, but some days, he wasn't sure he had recovered from the experience, even after all these years.  The thought of children running around his apartment, touching things with sticky fingers, still gave him chills.

“I'm setting up a website tonight to keep everyone up to date; I'll put the schedules up there and monitor it to make sure they stay full.  That's going to take a while.  Blaine sounded like he was on the verge of collapse.  You need to take tonight and bring him some food, and you have to make sure he actually eats.  I know he won't go home tonight, but try to get him to anyway.  I'll take tomorrow.  I suspect that after that we'll have plenty of people signed up, but we need to just keep on top of it.”  Ben gave Adam his marching orders, then hung up to start work.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­* * *

By the time Blaine reached Kurt's room, he had been back for a while.  On his way in, Miranda warned him that Kurt could not sit up at all or move much, and told him that he had been given medication to deal with a severe headache that had developed as a result of the lumbar puncture.  Blaine entered the room to find Kurt lying in bed, IV tubing attached to one of several lines snaking off of one protruding from his chest.  Walking over, he brushed his hand against Kurt's cheek, saying “Hey, how are you doing?”

“My head really hurts, and my back hurts.  They gave me something, but I don't think it's helping.  It's just making me groggy.  I want to go home now.”

‘Don't cry.  Don't cry.'  Blaine chanted to himself.  Kissing Kurt's forehead, he said gently, “I know, Baby.  But you can't go home right now.  I wish you could, but you have to stay here for now.”

“Want to go home,” Kurt repeated blearily.  Blaine sighed and didn't answer.  He settled for pulling a chair close and sitting next to the bed, Kurt's hand in his.  After a while, Kurt dozed off, and Blaine laid his head down on the bed next to Kurt and fell asleep.  This was how Adam found them when he came two hours later, bringing a spinach salad with chicken for Blaine.

“Mmm.  Thanks, Adam, but I'm really not hungry.”  Blaine tried to waive the salad away.

“What did you eat today?”  Adam interrogated.

“Um, I ordered an omelet for lunch.”  Blaine answered.

“And did you eat it?”  Blaine was silent.  “Right.  You haven't eaten today.  You're going to eat, and do it now, and I'm going to make sure you do.  Otherwise, Ben is going to kill me, and I really don't want to die.”

When they came to get Kurt for his PET scan, Blaine was still absently picking at his salad.  Kurt had woken up, and was now allowed to move, but any movement made his headache worse.  The orderly told Blaine to wait in the room, then whisked Kurt away.

* * *

Kurt was taken to a room that he vaguely thought looked like a spaceship.  A technician started a new IV, telling him they didn't want to run the contrast through his central line.  Kurt's head hurt too much to think or talk, so he just listened, only half comprehending what he was told.  He was moved to what seemed like a kind of tray, which slid into a big machine.  Kurt wasn't sure how long the test took, but he lay still as he was told and it didn't seem to last long.  He was just glad this test didn't hurt.  He had had enough of things that hurt.

* * *

A couple of hours after Kurt returned to the room, Blaine was surprised to see Dr. Miles enter the room.  She looked as tired as he felt; it had been a long day for everyone.  Kurt had finally fallen asleep.  She checked on him briefly, then turned to Blaine.  “Well, I finally have some good news for you.  The lumbar puncture didn't show any evidence of leukemia or anything else abnormal in his spinal fluid, and the PET scan didn't turn anything up either, not even in those swollen lymph nodes.  We'll keep an eye on them, and repeat the tests periodically, but right now I don't see anything that concerns me there, so it looks like the leukemia hasn't spread beyond his bone marrow.”  Blaine sighed in relief as Dr. Miles continued, “His fever is up a little, and we already know his immune system is weak, and it's just going to get worse with the chemo, so I'm going to start him on antibiotics tonight.  I'm also ordering an anti-nausea drug to be started tonight.  Our best chance of controlling chemo-related nausea and vomiting is to prevent them; it's a lot harder to control them once they start.  His chemo will start tomorrow morning.  It's a pretty intense course; the drugs are strong, and at this point my plan is for him to have it for seven days.  That could change, depending on how he tolerates them, but I feel like this is our best option right now.”

Blaine thanked her for the information, then she asked, “Are you going home tonight?”

Blaine shook his head, walking over to the bed and brushing hair away from Kurt's forehead.  “No.  He's so scared, even though he hasn't said anything.  I just can't leave him like this.  Not tonight.”

“I understand,” she said, a look of compassion on her face.  “I'll ask the nurse to bring you a blanket and a pillow.  The couch actually converts to a bed, sort of.  It's not very comfortable.  Sorry about that.  But Blaine, eventually, you will have to leave him, at least for a little while, and you can't spend every night here.  He's going to be here a long time.”

“I know,” he said, “Just not yet.  I can't leave him alone yet.”

Dr. Miles bid him goodnight, then left.  A nurse, a different one this time, brought in a blanket and pillow for him, then came back a few minutes later to start the new medications, which she attached to various lines branching off of Kurt's central line.  After she left, Blaine figured out the couch/bed conversion and settled in with the flat hospital pillow and scratchy blanket for the first of many nights in the hospital.

* * *

The next morning, a nurse came in and woke Kurt early, which was never pleasant.  She then helped him bathe, a more complicated process with a central line and multiple IV lines feeding into it.  Afterwards, she helped him change into his pajamas, which made him feel somewhat more comfortable and less exposed.  A few minutes later she returned and started his chemotherapy drugs. 

Blaine had awoken when the nurse came in, and tried to keep Kurt from focusing on the things that were upsetting him:  someone else touching him, and all the lines leading to his chest.  His fever was still up, which meant he was uncomfortable to begin with, and he still had a headache.  He kept insisting that the medication was making him worse, and wanted everything stopped.  Explanations about what the meds were doing and side effects and reason just made him more hostile.  He wanted to go home.  “Do you want me to put in a movie?” was rewarded with a glare.  “How about I have Jenna bring some work up?  Or you could sketch.  What about that?”

“No.  I can't work.  I don't feel good.  I can work if I go home.  I'll feel better at home.”  Kurt insisted petulantly.  Sighing, Blaine gave up, and tried to focus on the work he had brought with him, since Kurt clearly was not going to be talking much unless he was arguing, nor was he going to do anything Blaine could do with him or help him with.

Later that morning, someone from the hospital's nutrition services department brought Kurt breakfast.  “I don't want this,” he told the poor woman.  “I didn't ask for this, I don't want it.”

“But, sir, it's what you ordered from the menu,” she said, confused.

“No, I didn't,” Kurt informed her.

Coming to her rescue, Blaine said, “Sweetheart, you weren't in any shape to order last night, you wouldn't even talk about it, and it had to go in, so I picked something for you.  You can pick from now on.  You don't have any restrictions, so we can even bring food in for you if you want.  Just tell me what you're feeling like and I'll get it for you.”

“I don't want anything.”  Kurt wasn't giving in.

“Baby, you need to eat.  You have to keep up your strength to fight this.”  Blaine implored.

“I'll eat at home.”  Kurt stated.  Blaine had a bad feeling that they would be having a lot of these conversations.  After a lot of begging and cajoling, he finally got Kurt to eat a few bites.  It would have to do for now.

Shortly after they took Kurt's mostly untouched tray away, Ben came in.  “Go away.”  Kurt said, then continued pointedly, “You didn't even knock.”

“Well, we're cheery today, aren't we?”  Ben responded, not looking like he planned to go anywhere.  “I'm a dancer.  I'm used to group dressing rooms, and you don't have anything I haven't seen before.  And I've seen enough of you in the studio to know you don't have anything to be shy about.”  With that, he piled Blaine's blanket on his pillow and sat on the couch, handing Blaine a takeout container and a cup of coffee.

“What's this?”  Blaine asked.

“Breakfast.  Or dinner from last night, since Adam says you barely ate.  You're going to eat now, even if I have to feed you.” 

“Now that, I'd like to see.”  Kurt announced.

Blaine laughed.  “Sorry to disappoint you, Babe, but I'm too scared he might be serious to tempt him.”  Blaine ate while Ben chatted with Kurt. 

Finally, as Kurt was showing obvious signs of fatigue, Ben said, “Kurt, would you mind terribly if I steal your husband so he can shower, shave, change, and otherwise do whatever he needs to do to become presentable again?”  Kurt waived them both out.  Ben took the opportunity presented by the walk down to the street to get updated on Kurt's condition and what was being done, then put Blaine in a cab, telling him to take both a shower and a nap before returning.

* * *

At home, Blaine showered and cleaned up, threw a few days' worth of clothes and a razor into a bag, in case he didn't make it back home for a while, then searched the apartment for things that would help Kurt feel more at home.  He carefully selected pictures of he and Kurt together that Kurt liked, as well as pictures of the kids, and a scrapbook of pictures of the two of them with friends.  He grabbed Kurt's favorite throw from the couch, and took the warm, fuzzy blanket that Kurt liked to curl up in when it was really cold or he was sick from the linen closet in their bathroom.  Finally, he made himself another cup of coffee, put it in a travel mug and rinsed the pot, and left a note for Rosemary explaining the situation.  Looking around the apartment that already seemed emptier without Kurt, he turned and walked out the door, heading once again to the hospital.

* * *

Arriving in Kurt's room, Blaine found him asleep but shivering.  He called the nurse, who explained that his fever was up, and he already had several extra blankets.  Feeling helpless, he sat next to Kurt and sponged his forehead with cool water, wishing he could do more. 

A short while later, he was startled when Kurt awoke suddenly, announcing, “I feel sick!”  Blaine barely had time to grab a basin before Kurt was retching violently into it.  Blaine called the nurse again, who told him that she would call Dr. Miles.  Kurt was already on medication to prevent this reaction, but it was obviously not working. 

The nurse returned with a new medication, which she added to the growing collection on Kurt's IV stand, hooking it into one of the many IV lines leading to his central line.  “Hopefully this will get things under control,” she said, not looking very hopeful.  “Nausea from chemo is easier to prevent than treat, so since the first drug alone didn't work we may have to continue to do more; it'll take trial and error to determine what works for him.”

After a while, the additional drug seemed to calm things down.  Kurt still felt nauseous, but was no longer retching.  Blaine would have thought that had more to do with having nothing left in his stomach had Kurt not spent nearly half an hour dry heaving before the drug started to work.  However, when his lunch tray was brought, Kurt turned slightly green and begged the young woman who brought it in to take it away.  She put it near the sink by the door, but left it in the room.  Blaine was unable to convince Kurt to try to eat anything.  Honestly, he didn't put too much effort into it, as he really wasn't certain that it was the best idea either.  Eventually, someone came and removed the tray, but neither man really noticed.  Kurt couldn't stand the idea of eating or drinking anything, which worried Blaine.  He spoke to the nurse, who told him that if Kurt was not eating within a day or two they would start intravenous nutrition, and also informed him that Kurt was getting IV fluids already.  She did, however, tell him to try to get Kurt to suck on ice chips to moisten his mouth.  He was trying this, with no success, wincing as he saw how dry Kurt's lips had become already, and knowing how Kurt would hate that if he realized it, when the door opened.

“Daddy, suck on the ice chips.  Now!”  Came the imperious command from their daughter, in a tone that matched Kurt's exactly.  Turning to Blaine, she said, “Papa, the doctor is waiting outside to talk to you.  After that, Patrick is taking you to dinner, then home.  Ian will spend the night with Daddy.  I'll stay until he comes.  Patrick will bring you back in the morning, then stay with Daddy so that you can go to work.”

Smiling for only the second time that day, Blaine said, “You have it all figured out, don't you?”

“Of course I do,” came the instant response.  Kissing him on the cheek, she pointed to the door and reminded him, “The doctor is waiting for you.”

Leaving the room, Blaine looked up to find Dr. Miles standing just outside the door.  “He's had a really bad day,” he told her.

Sighing, she said, “It's not unexpected.  While you were gone, we added another antibiotic, and took blood to try to determine the exact nature of the infection.  I was hoping that the original medication would control the nausea; I've had pretty good luck with that drug, but some patients do need more.  Don't worry – we'll find something that works, but unfortunately each patient responds differently to different drugs or combinations of drugs, so it'll be trial and error to find what works for him.”

Blaine said, “So you're not worried?”

“Well,” she hedged, “We're keeping a close eye on him.  As long as he's stable, he'll stay here.  Hopefully we won't have to move him to intensive care, but you should be prepared for that possibility.”  Blaine nodded.  Continuing, she said, “Your daughter approached me about the possibility of a bone marrow transplant.  She wants to be tested.  I told her I couldn't discuss it with her, but that I would talk to you.”

Blaine said, “Kurt doesn't want her to go through the pain of the donation, but she's adamant about being tested.  She told us she would be tested regardless of what he wants, so if she's a match he'd get her marrow whether he knew it was hers or not.  I'd like to be tested as well, although I know that the chances of me being a match are pretty low.  And our sons want to be tested, and I suspect other friends and family members will want to be tested too.”

“Good,” was the response, “he's not ready for a transplant yet, but it would be better if we can find a donor and do the transplant as soon as we have a biopsy showing that he's free of the cancer.  It will decrease the chances of relapse.  Here's the information on getting tested; just give it to anyone who's interested in being tested, and urge them to complete the testing procedure as soon as possible.  Oh, and if they're worried, point out that donation is usually done under anesthesia, so the donor really isn't in any pain, and we can give the donor medication to deal with any post-donation discomfort.”  With that, she handed him a slip of paper with the information on it.

Looking up, he saw Patrick approaching.  He stepped back into the room, followed by Patrick.  Patrick spoke to Kurt for a moment before Blaine bid him goodnight and told him that Ellie would stay with him until Ian arrived, then kissed him gently and told him he'd see him in the morning.

* * *

Blaine insisted he wasn't hungry, but Patrick insisted that he eat.  “Look, Papa, if you don't eat, someone is going to have my head on a platter.”

“Who?”

“The list is long and numerous.  Trust me on this.  They're in line.  My orders are to take care of you for the night, which includes seeing that you eat.  Do you want me to cook, get take-out, or do you want to go somewhere?”  Patrick inquired.

“I don't care,” Blaine told him.

“Is there food in the house?”  Patrick questioned.  Of the three kids, he was the one who seemed to have gotten Kurt's passion and talent for cooking.  Blaine often wondered how, without Kurt's genetic material, Patrick was in so many ways like Kurt.  However, he guessed it was that way with all the children.  He saw Kurt in both Patrick and Ian, and himself in Ellie.

“Um . . . ,” Blaine was trying to remember.

“Right,” Patrick sighed.  “We'll order in, then I'll take inventory and maybe go shopping.”

Arriving at the apartment, Patrick ordered a pizza and salads, then went into the kitchen to determine if there was any edible food.  The answer was not much.  Blaine had cooked some when the kids were growing up, and cooked for Kurt when it was his turn if they weren't too busy, but still tended to live on college bachelor food, take-out, or eating out when left to his own devices, and Kurt had obviously not felt well enough to shop over the last week.  He made a list, and after dinner told Blaine to go to bed while he shopped.

“Papa, where should I sleep?  The guest room, Ellie's room, or Ian's?”  Patrick asked.  His old room had been turned into the gym, as he was the first child to successfully transition out of the house.  As the youngest, Ellie had been last to leave, but as a musician trying to make his way, Ian had reclaimed his room on several occasions when low on funds.

“Oh, pick one.  It really doesn't matter,” Blaine told him.

“When was Ian last in residence?” Patrick wanted to know.

“A few months ago,” Blaine answered.

“Okay, I'll take his room,” Patrick told his father as he stepped outside.  He had just wanted to make sure that if there were any surprises (porn, stray condoms, someone's panties, etc.), Rosemary had had time to locate and dispose of them, as well as change the sheets.  Ian did like to live the life of the crazy rock and roll musician; Patrick was just glad that for Ian this had never included drugs.

Blaine entered the bedroom.  It was too empty without Kurt.  He felt the absence in a way that he never had when it was just a business trip.  After preparing for bed, he lay down but was unable to sleep.  Eventually he moved to Kurt's side, breathing in his scent on the pillow, feeling the warmth of his extra blanket.  He rubbed Kurt's ring, hanging on a chain around his neck.  It had been a long time since he'd really prayed, but he did so tonight, begging for Kurt to return to him.

* * *

Ian arrived at the hospital, guitar case in hand.  As he started to open the door to his father's room he was greeted by his sister.  “Look, Rock God, you have a job to do tonight.  You are going to be responsible and do it for once, is that understood?”

“Yes,” he sighed.

“You are not to leave Daddy, period.  Is that clear?”

“Yes,” he assured her.

Finally, she let him pass, and he entered, gently kissing his father on the forehead.  Ellie entered and told Kurt she was going home, but that Ian would stay with him that night.  She kissed him on the cheek, and promised to visit the next day.  Ian tried to talk to him for a while, but Kurt was too tired, so eventually his son gave up and began to softly play and hum under his breath.

A quiet inquiry rose from the bed.  “What is that?  It's pretty.”

“Nothing really.  Just something I've been working on.  It's nowhere near ready, though.  Maybe if I manage to finish it I'll play it for you someday,” Ian answered.  It was a lie.  It was finished.  He had written it the previous day in a couple of tear filled hours.  It was a song of pain and anguish, fear and grief; it was a song about losing Kurt.  And Ian knew that although it was probably the best thing he had ever written, he would never, ever sing it for him.

* * *

When Blaine arrived the next morning, he saw Miranda in the hallway.  For the first time, she was wearing the hospital issued royal blue scrubs that were the hallmark of the cancer unit, instead of her usual colorful print ones.  In most units where the patients often had long stays, the hospital allowed the staff some leeway on dress code, finding it increased patient morale to not look at the same drab single color of scrubs on every person attending them every day.  “How's he doing?”  Blaine questioned.

“Well, he has a bit more energy than he has the last couple of days,” she informed him with a grimace.  Blaine could tell from her face that something had happened, and motioned to Patrick to be quiet as he arrived with coffee for both of them.  He somehow knew Kurt had behaved badly.  Again.

“Oh?”  He said cautiously.

“Note my clothes.”  She said.

“I noticed.  You aren't dressed the way you normally are,” Blaine answered.

“He threw his breakfast tray at me.  He has surprisingly good aim for someone in his condition.”

Blaine buried his face in his hands.  “Oh God.  I'm so sorry.”

­­­­­­­­­“It's okay,” she told him, her expression softening.  “He's going through a lot.  Mood swings and depression are pretty normal under the circumstances.  We do have a psychiatrist assigned to the unit who works with a lot of our patients, and we have some group therapy sessions.  I tried to talk to him about it, but he shut down.  He says he wants no part of either.  You might see if you can get him to take advantage of either of them, or maybe talk to a clergy member.”

Blaine laughed, “I can try, but I probably won't have any luck on the therapy or psychiatrist.  As for the clergy, that's right out.  Kurt's a pretty devout atheist.  Any idea what set him off?”

“Not really,” she answered him, “I know he was watching television, the news maybe?  I'm not sure, but he was upset when I came in.  I tried to talk to him about eating, and apparently he was not in a receptive mood.”

Sighing, Blaine turned to enter the room.  Ian was white as a sheet, and dead silent.  Kurt was sitting up in bed, anger rolling off him in waves.  As Blaine came in, Kurt looked at him and said, “Did you know that I'm dying?  Of AIDS, no less.  Apparently, I've been hiding it for some time, and now my death is imminent.”

“What?!”  Blaine exclaimed.

“Well, I'm an out of the closet gay man, missing an important business engagement due to a health crisis, so obviously I'm dying of AIDS, according to the news, the fashion channel, and every celebrity gossip show and rag out there.  They even have celebrities commenting on how they've known for a while, how I confided in them months ago.  Those people will never again get a KHA original.  I don't care if they have to walk down the red carpet naked.”  Kurt was seething.

“We have to issue a press release, and let everyone know what's really happening.  I know you don't want to, but it will at least slow the gossip,” Blaine told him, trying to be practical.

“Fine.  Just make it stop.” 

“I don't know if I can do that, but I'll try,” Blaine said apologetically, pulling out his phone and contacting his press agent.

As Blaine spoke, he noticed Kurt was shivering again.  Hanging up, he pulled the blanket and throw out of the bag he had packed the previous day.  “The nurse suggested I bring these from home, along with pictures, so it will seem a little more like home, maybe be a little more comfortable,” Blaine explained as he tucked the blanket and throw around Kurt.

Kurt threw the blanket and throw away, crying, “I don't want it to feel like home!  This is not home!” 

Blaine sighed, knowing it was pointless to argue right now.  His timing was probably not the best, since Kurt was already angry.  He simply tucked the blanket and throw back into his bag, making a mental note to try again later, when and if Kurt was ever in a better mood.  He didn't try to put out the pictures.

Later, as he was leaving to go to work, with a press conference newly on his agenda, he ran into Mary Beth.  “How's he doing?”  She inquired.

“It's been a really rough few days, and he's pretty down,” Blaine told her.  “Our son, Patrick, is with him right now.”

“Hmm.  I'll drop by later and see if I can cheer him up.”  She promised.  “Right now I've got to get someone else for a short procedure.  No rest for the wicked!”

* * *

Blaine stood at a podium before a microphone as flashes exploded around him and film crews jostled for position.  Taking a deep breath, and willing himself to be strong and not break down, he read the statement he had prepared earlier.  “Earlier this week, the love of my life, my husband, Kurt Hummel-Anderson, was diagnosed with acute leukemia.  It is an aggressive form of the disease, and unfortunately, it was not discovered early.  However, the doctors are still optimistic about Kurt's prognosis, and I, along with our family and friends, are praying for him.  The situation required his immediate hospitalization for treatment, which will last several weeks this first time, and require follow-ups over several months.  This is why he is missing certain fashion events over the next few weeks.  He will continue to work as his health permits, and will continue to be involved in his business.  Eventually, Kurt will need a bone marrow transplant.  The process of testing to see if you are a match for someone needing a transplant is painless, and if you are a match to someone in need, the harvesting is done under anesthesia, and the pain is minimal.  I would ask that everyone consider becoming a donor, and be tested.  The chances are that you won't be a match for Kurt, but you might be, for him or for someone else.  Who knows whose life you might save?  I would also like to state that the reports that he is suffering from AIDS or an AIDS related illness are false.  Kurt is HIV negative, as am I; he has been tested, as have I, and neither of us has ever had a positive result.  We request that the so-called news outlets spreading rumors of AIDS please cease and desist, as the frustration over these false reports is stressing to him, and pulls his focus from where it should be, which is on beating the leukemia.  Finally, we ask that you respect Kurt's privacy, and well as that of our family and friends, during this extremely trying time.”  He stepped away from the podium and was quickly ushered away by his publicist's assistant, who kept him turned in such a way that the cameras would not capture the tears he could no longer hold back.  He vaguely heard the publicist telling the crowd that no, Mr. Hummel-Anderson would not be taking any questions today.

* * *

Entering Kurt's room, Mary Beth motioned to Patrick.  “Scram,” she said, pointing at the door.  The order, issued in the same sort of imperious tone as his sister's, combined with her official looking hospital scrubs, resulted in his immediate departure, her rather unprofessional language never having registered.  Looking at Kurt, she said, “Oh, good.  They haven't brought your lunch yet.”

Kurt felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.  He really hadn't planned on eating lunch.  While the nausea was better, he still had absolutely no appetite, and while he supposed the food looked pretty good for hospital fare, fine dining it wasn't.  On the other hand, he wondered what fresh Hell he was to be subjected to that required him to have not eaten.  “Why?”  He asked, dreading the answer.

Mary Beth launched herself at his couch.  It was then that he noticed the cup of yogurt and spoon in her hand.  “We're going to play a game,” she announced.

“What game?”  Kurt asked suspiciously, wondering what games had to do with lunch.

“Rate the Ass,” she informed him triumphantly.

“What?”

“It's simple really.  When they bring you your lunch, eventually they'll turn and walk out.  Then we both make our rating and compare them.”

“You've got to be kidding,” he said incredulously.

“Come on.  I practically live here, I don't have a boyfriend, I have no social life outside of here, what I have here is nothing to write home about, and you know how in those TV shows everyone runs around the hospital having sex?  None to be found here.  As I told you I never had any leaning toward becoming a nun, but for all I've been getting you might as well get me a habit and call me Sister Mary Beth.  Take pity on me and play.”  She implored.

By this point Kurt was laughing so hard tears were slipping from the corners of his eyes.  “Fine,” he acquiesced.

A couple of minutes later, a man in his mid-thirties entered with Kurt's lunch tray.  Kurt accepted it much more graciously than he had his previous meals, and the man turned to exit.  As soon as he left, Mary Beth said, “Five and a half out of ten.”

“Four,” Kurt announced definitively.

“Really?”  She asked.

“At best.”  Kurt insisted.

“Scrubs aren't the most flattering things,” she told him, “You might want to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“I know, and I did,” Kurt informed her.

“Wow, you're harsh.  But I guess it's pretty easy for you, Mr. Nine-plus and married to Mr. Nine-and-a-half.”

“I'll have you know Blaine's ass is a perfect ten,” Kurt defended.

“I'll take your word for it, since I doubt that either of you are willing to let me get a better look at it,” she laughed.

“It would just make you jealous,” he told her.

They continued their conversation while she ate and Kurt picked at his food.  Noting that he consumed no more than two small bites, after she finished her yogurt she excused herself to return to work.  Making a beeline for the nurses' station, she called Dr. Miles, then made a note in Kurt's chart.  Later that afternoon, Miranda added another bag to Kurt's growing collection on his IV pole:  intravenous nutrition.

* * *

That evening, Finn arrived with Quinn and Carole.  Carole spoke with Dr. Miles and the nurses, then came in and spoke with Blaine.  “So far, everything is going about as well as we could hope, given how advanced the leukemia was when it was diagnosed, other than the nausea,” she told Blaine.  “He hasn't had any major infections, but he's still early in the chemotherapy round.  You should be prepared.  As he progresses, his blood counts and immunity will fall, and he will be very, very susceptible to infection.”

“I know,” Blaine said.  “The doctors have told us.”  Carole reached out and squeezed his hand, looking at him sympathetically.

That night, she spent the night with Kurt, and Thursday evening, Finn spent the night with him.  They convinced Blaine to sleep at home Thursday night, after he insisted Carole take the couch on Wednesday night and spent the night sleeping in a chair.  Quinn stayed at the apartment both nights, along with Finn or Carole, whichever was not with Kurt. 

Friday afternoon, they wished Kurt and Blaine goodbye, and Blaine called the car service to take them to the airport.  Finn had only been able to take two full days off from school, and his kids were preparing for regionals; given how important show choir had been for both Kurt and Blaine, they understood the need to get back and prepare.  Finn had previously scheduled weekend rehearsals, and Kurt and Blaine both insisted that they not be cancelled.  There wasn't much Finn could do anyway.  Quinn needed to get back to her businesses.  Blaine would miss Carole, and vowed that he would have her conferenced in by phone when the medical discussions got complicated.  Never had he wished so strongly that Kurt's family lived in New York.

* * *