Burt scans the faces of the students that are stumbling out of the school. All around him parents are running to their son or daughter and holding them tightly, laughing and crying. There are worried calls all around. Paramedics are rushing into the school, laden with stretchers and supplies.

It's finally ending.

Burt takes a hesitant step forward as he sees a tall head of mussed chestnut hair exit the school and stand, looking around at the scene, looking lost in this sea of action. Kurt. His eyes widen as he sees blood splattered all over his son's clothing, worry clenching his heart. But then Kurt finally turns and recognizes him, his stumbling steps turning into a clumsy run as he barrels into his father's arms. Burt blinks back his own tears as he gathers his little boy in his arms.

"Kurt, are you okay?" Burt demands, his voice strained with concern.

Kurt nods against him, burying his face into his father's neck, sobbing heavily.

Burt hushes him and rocks him back and forth, rubbing his hand in soothing circles across his back. "You're safe now, you're okay," he whispers, "I've got you, I've got you."

Kurt just clings to his father, trembling, burying his face against Burt's shoulder, taking comfort in the familiarity of rough flannel against his cheek and his father's warm scent of apple pie, motor oil, and a hint of cologne.

Burt just cradles him close, tears pricking at his own eyes. He swallows and looks up to see Finn wrapped up in his mother's arms. "Are you okay bud?" he asks, voice rough.

Finn nods, still looking shell shocked. Burt narrows his eyes, concern for his two sons growing with each minute. But at least they're safe. At least they're fine. Physically at least.

They're alive.

Suddenly, a voice rises out from above the crowd.

 "Where's my son?" Mrs. Anderson calls as she rushes to the huddled family, her husband on her heels. Her eyes are wide as she recognizes Kurt and she asks again, her voice increasingly frantic, "Where's my son? Where's Blaine? Kurt? Why isn't he with you?"

Burt looks between and Kurt and Finn with confusion. He's assumed that Blaine was with his family. His heart drops as he feels Kurt stiffen in his arms. Finn looks down at his feet before looking over his shoulder at the paramedics racing into McKinley.

His heart continuing its plummeting fall, Burt speaks carefully to Finn, tightening his arms around his shaking son, "Where's Blaine?"

Finn opens his mouth but Kurt is the one who speaks, his voice hoarse and cracking at every word, "He was... He was shot." Carole claps her hand over his mouth and the Andersons just look at Kurt in shock. Swallowing, Kurt continues, staring at the patterned plaid of his father's shoulder, struggling to find the words, "The paramedics made me leave him. I didn't want to but they made me but he's okay, he's going to be okay-" a sob takes over his speech and he begins to cry again.

He can't seem to stop crying.

Kurt can feel everyone's eyes on him but the world is spinning and he can't seem to make it stop. His own words reverberate in his mind: He was shot, he was shot, he was shot. He clings to his father, trying to get a wavering grasp on reality because everything seems to incredibly unreal. It can't be real. It just can't.

Dimly, he can hear the Andersons asking more questions and Finn wearily answering them. Then they disappear and take their place among the other parents waiting anxiously for their children. Kurt can't bear to look.

I didn't mean to leave him. I'm sorry, Blaine. I'm so sorry.

The tears soon slow as the worry in his heart increases, flaring up higher and higher. He has an incredible urge to turn around. To see what's happening in the school. But he's afraid of what he'll see.

There are gasps, sobs, screams, and shouted questions emerging from the crowd and Kurt needs to see what's happening. He moves to pull away from his father but Burt just holds him tighter, constraining him in his arms. "Don't," his father mutters softly, voice firm.

Kurt looks up at him, eyes wide. He pulls away with more strength this time and his father lets him. He spins around and freezes in shock.

Ambulances have pulled up next to the steps. Paramedics rushing inside the school. But the first wave of paramedics are beginning to steadily trickle out of the doors, stretchers carried between them. Some figures sit up and wave tiredly to their parents. Others are unconscious.  Others are encased in black body bags.

Kurt stumbles forward. One step. Then another. It's a fight to get himself to move, to get his body to cooperate with his mind. He feels as if he's wading through jelly. The air seems hot and thick around him, pushing him back and trying to make him stop. But he doesn't. He keeps walking forward, arms outstretched to keep his wavering balance, like a gymnast on a thin balance beam. 

Around him the world is active and buzzing. It's one of those moments where everything is vibrant around you, and you get lost in it all. But you can't focus on anything, so nothing makes sense. You're just there. Lost in a haze of sound and color. Your thoughts flitting about your mind. And the only thing Kurt can cling to is a name. Blaine. 

He sees the paramedics walk out, another stretcher laden between them. A girl is strapped onto one and carried into an ambulance. He sees bright pink nail polish and even brighter clothes. Sugar. 

Other paramedics set down another body on the steps of the school, cradled in a black bag. They cannot take them to hospital yet because the ambulances are needed for the wounded. So they are lined up, looking exceedingly small. Smaller than they should be.

Kurt continues his fight forward through the crowd. He needs to look into those black bags, and see whether the love of his life is cradled inside one. He wants to see if his lips are still warm, or if they've already gone cold. 

But arms in front of him block his path, and arms behind him pull him back. "Blaine!" Kurt calls out with a strangled cry. "Blaine!" 

The officer blocking his path looks down at him, speaking sympathetically.  Kurt shakes his head. He doesn't understand what he's saying. 

"I've got him officer," Burt assures quietly, drawing Kurt away firmly. Kurt allows himself to be led, feeling boneless.

"Dad... I have to see. I have to make sure he's okay. It's all my fault."

Burt puts his hands on Kurt's shoulders and looks him squarely in the eyes. His little boy's blue eyes are glazed over slightly, blank and unfocused. Burt shakes him slightly, to rattle him out of his reverie. "Kurt. Look at me. None of this your fault, you understand me? None of it."

Kurt just squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head. "You don't understand Dad," he says quietly, "He- he jumped in front of me."

Burt freezes and inhales sharply. Internally, his heart squeezes, conflicted. Relieved that it isn't Kurt, terrified that it could've been Kurt, and devastated that it's Blaine. He exhales before speaking carefully, "Listen bud, Blaine made his own choices. I'm sure the paramedics know what they're doing. He'll be fine. Now, if you promise to do whatever I say, then we can go wait for him to come out with the others? Can you do that for me?"

Swallowing, Kurt straightens up and nods. He has to be strong. For Blaine.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Dad. I'm fine."

After looking at him skeptically for a moment, Burt nods and with an arm tightly wound around Kurt's slender shoulders, they move to stand beside Finn and Carole. The family wraps their arms around each other and they watch the proceedings with growing apprehension.

Kurt begins to feel nauseous as the minutes tick by. Every possible, horrible scenario flits through his mind.  He sways on his feet and Carole squeezes his hand soothingly. The line of bodies begins to grow. The amount of stretchers being loaded into the ambulances growing as well.

Tick.

Tock.

Kurt feels tears begins to prick his eyes again and he swallows, setting his jaw. He looks up for a second, trying to gain his composure. The empty feeling in his stomach grows and his heart feels like it's in a free fall.  How is this happening. It can't be happening.

Just breathe.

Then Burt suddenly tightens his grip on his shoulder and Kurt's eyes instantly look back at the school. A group of paramedics are carrying a stretcher out, some jogging beside it. Heart caught in his throat, Kurt recognizes the figure and he almost collapses.

Blaine.

Unconsciously, he takes a step forward but Burt holds him back. Everything else spins out of focus except Blaine. His beautiful, brave, brilliant Blaine. He lies immobile on the stretcher, skin pale, eyes closed. Kurt can't even tell if he's breathing. But there's an oxygen mask strapped to his face and a neck brace supporting his head. His shirt has been ripped out of the way, and Kurt's face contorts in pain as he sees the large, bloody trauma pad being pressed into his bare, bruised skin. The paramedics jog quickly into the ambulance and load him inside.

"That's my son!" Mrs. Anderson shouts. A paramedic runs over, his hands and light blue uniform streaked with Blaine's blood. She looks at him and speaks frantically, "He's my son! Can I go with him?"

Breathless, he says, "Sorry ma'am, but we're not going to have any room. Feel free to follow behind in your car. We're taking him to St. Rita's Medical Center."

"Is he okay?" Mr. Anderson asks.

The paramedic is quiet for a moment before speaking quickly, "It's really too early to tell sir. Now if you'll excuse me," he turns away and jogs back to the ambulance. The doors slam shut and with lights flashing and sirens blaring, it pulls away.

The groups stands in a shock for a moment before springing into action. Kurt, although already exhausted, sprints the fastest to the car. The Andersons leave the lot first, followed close behind by the Hudson-Hummels.

Once in the car, Kurt realizes his hands are clenched tightly in fists, nails digging into his palms. He relaxes them gently and looks down at them. Blaine's blood has dried and has caught under his nails. He tries uselessly scrape it off but it clings to his skin. Kurt knuckles away a tear.

Tearing his gaze away, Kurt looks out the window, trying to focus on his breathing. He exhales and leans his head against the cool glass of the window. He tries to keep his mind blank but pictures of Blaine sweep across his mind. Blaine laughing. Blaine smiling. Blaine crying. Blaine dying. Kurt closes his eyes and gets a grip on himself. Determination bubbles up in him. He doesn't care. Blaine will be okay. He will get him back. A song runs through his head and he focuses on its beats and sings the lyrics softly in his head. Because words give Kurt strength. And lyrics are simply beautiful words.

And even if it sounds crazy, darling

I won't let you go

And even if it don't ever stop raining, darling

I won't let you go

And even if the world's burning, darling

I won't let you go

Even if it sounds crazy, darling.

I won't let you go.