Finn sat in a sanitised hospital chair, staring at the greasy grey floor through his fingers, eyes half shut. His elbows dug into his knees as the weight of his pounding head rested in his hands. He was exhausted. The air smelt foul, overly clean, visibly hiding the smell of something worse. His mother’s hand ran slowly up and down his bent back; the motion was starting to make him feel sick and was moving over emerging bruises, but he didn’t want her to stop. It had already paused once, as Dave Karofsky’s parents were ushered through the waiting room and down a corridor. He knew it would stop again when Burt and Kurt came back, whatever news they brought. For the moment, in Finn’s addled brain, no news was definitely good news.

“Do you want a coffee?”

His mum spoke softly.

Finn began to shake his head, but it made him dizzy, so he whispered back.

“No, thanks.”

“Some water? Something to eat?”

“No mum. Honestly, I’m fine.” What a lie.

“You’re sure you don’t want to see someone? About your arms? About anything?”

When they had first sunk into the chairs and Finn had rolled back his sleeve to try and free something of the suffocating atmosphere, he’d been surprised to find his arms laced with splintered cuts from the window ledge.

“No mum.”

Her hands squeezed his shoulders.

“Ok.”

Thirty minutes later, with no sight of her husband or stepson, Carole finally succumbed and went to find a vending machine. In reality she knew exactly where it was; just round one corner, to the right of the reception desk. She knew because of the hours she’d spent here when Burt had been ill. In her mind the building represented something of a threat to her family and she didn’t like it. But the coffee was hot and passable, and that was all she needed right now. She glanced as her watch as the plastic cup slowly filled. It was ten to midnight. She sighed and walked back, sipping the burning liquid.

As she came back around the corner she saw a small, dyed blonde woman standing in front of Finn, talking to him closely. Her son’s face was so sombre and drained, but his eyes were earnest and intent as the woman spoke. As Carole walked back Finn reached out to the stranger, offering her one of the tissues from the pack Carole had found in her bag earlier. She head snippets of conversation until she came and sat down again by her son, resting the hot plastic on a low table strewn with outdated magazines.

“…but Kurt was with him the whole time…”

“I know. I mean, he told me almost as much. I just…his father’s out of town…and I couldn’t reach him on the phone, so I had to leave a message…how can you leave a message explaining something like this?”

Finn turned to his mom as she sat back down, watching the steaming cup.

“Mom; this is Blaine’s mother…”

Finn turned back, gesturing, and suddenly realised his rudeness. He stood up and offered her his seat, even though the floor rocked beneath him and his back cried out against it. With a weak smile she sank into it.

“Thank you.”

She turned to Carole, pressing the scrunched tissue below her eyes.

“I’m Wendy, Wendy Anderson.”

She offered her hand and Carole took it in both of hers, tears springing sympathetically into her eyes.

“I’m so sorry Wendy.”

Carole kept hold of the poor woman’s hand instinctively.

Mrs Anderson sniffed and gave the same watery, thin lipped look of acceptance. Then she sighed and strained her back. She placed her other hand on top of Carole’s two and turned to include Finn.

“I’ve heard a lot about you all. Blaine’s told me almost everything, I think.” She smiled sadly to herself. “He wouldn’t shut up about it. About Kurt. It was almost as bad as when he discovered the Sound of Music.”

Carole smiled gently; she was sure Burt could empathise.

“It’s nice to finally meet you all at last.”

Her voice betrayed her to Finn; there were no worse circumstances in which to meet, yet the woman was as polite and genuine as her son.

Carole noticed it too, but spoke up, not wanting to let the poor woman’s mind wander.

“Blaine is a wonderful boy.”

Wendy’s lip quivered and she lifted her hand to wipe her eyes again, gripping the tissue in her fist, watching her hand intently.

“Kurt looks up to him so much; from the first day he went to Dalton, he was a different boy.”

Mrs Anderson nodded quietly. There was silence for a moment as Finn shifted awkwardly on his feet and Carole realised she wasn’t going to drink her coffee.

“Mrs Anderson saw Kurt, mom.” Finn prompted. Carole looked up at him then down at the woman.

“You did?”

“Yes. He was outside the room they put Blaine in, sitting on the floor when I came out. I recognised him from Regionals.”

Carole didn’t know what question to ask next.

“Did…did you see my husband?”

The stranger creased her eyes and shook her head, pursing her lips in thought.

“No…no, Kurt was alone. But I think he tried to say something about someone going to get a drink.”

“So you spoke to him?”

“Yes…yes, he wanted to know how Blaine was. He told me a little of what happened.”

She shuddered and tears filled her eyes.

“But I still have no idea what really happened to him. None…none of this is supposed to happen to my baby…”

Her voice began to break with every breath, growing angry.
Carole mumbled “I know, I know,” quietly, gently rubbing the back one hand as the other drove away the tears.

“And…and…” She reached into a pocket and pulled out an old cell phone, flashing it demonstratively, “his father…but I had nothing really to tell him…and they said something about a CT scan, whatever that is, and going step by step, and to wait out here…but I don’t understand…and they wouldn’t let me stay with him…but he looked so quiet, and so pale, and he couldn’t hear me…and he wouldn’t wake up…”

Carole reached forwards and rocked the woman onto her shoulder, holding her as the sobs rolled out of her chest. Her eyes flickered at Finn, sharing the understanding. Blaine was unconscious, serious, and Kurt was waiting, alone. Finn touched his mother’s shoulder lightly.

“Send Burt back here if you see him.” Carole whispered.

He nodded, then turned and slowly started down the corridor Blaine’s mother had emerged from.
-
Kurt was bargaining with a God. Alone again he had slumped against the pastel cream wall and slid down it to the floor. Four feet away, across the corridor were two doors, hinged to swing in either direction, but closed. Behind their frosted glass, Kurt saw shadowy figures moving backwards and forwards. Occasionally a doctor or a nurse would come through one door, pushing it open just enough to slide through. And then Kurt caught a glimpse of pale green curtains and stainless steel trolleys. The doctor or nurse would glance at him for a second and then move on. He was glad they did. Their jobs were far too important to worry about moving a lonely teenager. And every time they moved out of sight he went back to his bargaining, not caring if he gave up his principles on God if it saved the boy he loved.
-
Footsteps.

"Kurt?"

"...and...and I'll run a marathon...two marathons...as many as it takes..."

"Kurt?"

"...and I'll never get angry with dad, or mum, or Karofsky, or Blaine, I promise...I'll become an envoy, a peace envoy..."

"Kurt."

A shadow paused on top of Kurt's closed eyes, but he kept them shut. He'd promised it. He wouldn't open them again until Blaine did. The shadow shifted and a hand rested on his bare arm, He realised he was cold; he was still only wearing the white T-shirt he'd had on under his shirt. His hands were clasped in his lap, not palm to palm, but laced together, as he'd seen the believers do in Mercedes' church. He could tell by the voice that Finn had come to find him. He fought the urge to open his eyes; what if Finn had news? But he'd promised not to, and it was the least he could do whilst Blaine fought...fought for his life. The tight, confused face of Blaine's mother, so similar to him in many ways, with those fantastic eyes, drifted in front of him.

The hand came off his arm and he felt Finn slide to sit next to him against the wall. An arm came over and wrapped around his shoulders.

"What are you doing here?"

The voice was sympathetic, but the question woke all the thoughts which had been catapulting around Kurt's mind for the last half hour.

"Nothing..." His voice was dead. "I'm doing absolutely nothing. I'm useless. I can't help; I can't do anything...I'm just sitting here making wild promises, and praying that something good might finally happen today..."

His eyelids twitched but he held them closed; the darkness was kind and soothing to his red, sore eyes.

Finn shifted to straighten his back against the wall.

"No, you are doing something. You're here for him. That's most important thing you can do right now, you know? Because as soon as he wakes up he's gonna want to see you. And I know you; you're not going to leave that room until he's better than ok. You're gonna be the best damn boyfriend nurse ever."

Kurt sniffed and smiled weakly; it was true.

"Thanks, Finn."

He felt the arm round his shoulders twitch as if to say, 'No worries.'

"Where's your dad gone?"

"I think...I think he said he was going to find something to eat...or for a walk...or something..."

Kurt shut up as he heard the sound of the swing door across the corridor open slightly, but Finn ignored it. A pair of small heels clacked down the hall away from them.

"You saw Blaine's mom?" Finn's voice was slow and careful.

"Yeah."

"You talked to her?"

"Uh hu."

Finn gave a small sensitive squeeze of Kurt's shoulder. It was obvious that he would have to take the lead in this conversation.

"She came down to the waiting room. She recognised me. We had a nice talk. Apparently Blaine won't shut up about you."

He felt Kurt's back stiffen slightly.

"I told her I knew what she meant."

He smiled slightly and swallowed.

"She was so grateful for everything you did for Blaine."

Kurt sniffed once more and turned his face slightly to the side. His fingers played again with the blood stain on his shirt. His arms remembered the weight they had carried haltingly down that dark corridor. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"What did she say, Kurt?"

Kurt sobbed, but then breathed deeply. Another of his promises had been not to cry as much, and he fought to keep it. Instead he stared into the blackest blackness of his eyelids, with the bursting painfully before him.

"She...she came out with this doctor and saw me...she looks just like him in some ways, Finn...and the doctor looked and then walked off. But she just stayed and watched me; watched my face. I guess she was trying to place me...and then she asked: "Are you Kurt?" and I said yes. And she came forwards and I stood up...she's just as small as him...but...but she saw the blood...on my shirt...and she started crying, and asked if it was his...and I said yes again."

Finn shuffled closer, trying to catch every snuffled word.

"So she asked what had happened, and I tried to tell her, but I couldn't...didn't get very far...and she kept asking: "Were you with him? Were you with him all the time?" over and over again. She wanted to know everything he said...how long he was quiet..." Kurt paused for a second. "She...she asked if he'd said anything about her...and I didn't know what to say, Finn, because he hadn't...so I just started crying, but I think she knew..."

Finn gently rocked his brother's shoulders; he had no idea what he could possibly say.

"I think she almost walked off...but then I asked if he was ok; and I couldn't stop my questions..." Kurt waved his arm expressively with each phrase, eyes still absurdly shut. "Was he ok...was he awake...was he in pain...what did the doctors say...could I see him...what were they doing..." he shook his hand at the door, "...in there... and then she just looked at me...God, Finn, like I had no right to know...like I had no right to have been the last person to talk to her son...and left..."

Kurt broke down now, and broke his promise, curling his knees up and burying his face in them, his sobs echoing down the hall. Finn thought back to those strained, quiet words Mrs Anderson had used about her conversation with Kurt. Now he saw the tension and pain behind them.

"She was just angry, Kurt. Irrationally, yeah; but can you blame her?"

Kurt swallowed his tears, speaking into his legs.

"But...but...I still don't know, Finn...I still have no idea what's going on..."

Finn realised he had only part of the answer.

"She said something about a CT scan."

Kurt, still crying, decided his promises were empty. He opened his eyes and looked up at Finn, leaning against the wall.

"What?"

"When she was talking to mom...she still wouldn't really say anything...but she did say something about a scan..."

Kurt wiped his eyes on his bare arm.

"But what else? Is that bad? Is that good? Does that mean they don't need to operate or anything?"

Finn felt helpless.

"I really don't know, Kurt."

Kurt looked into the distance for a few seconds. Finn saw a doctor appear at the opposite end of the corridor, walking quickly towards them. Finn thought for a second. And then lifted his arm from Kurt and made to stand up. Kurt's hand flapped at his jeans, his eyes silently willing him not to leave, but Finn took hold of it and placed it back in his lap with the other. He turned to Kurt's face and whispered.

"I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."

Finn walked one pace out into the centre of the hallway, turning to face the approaching doctor. He ran his hand through his hair nervously, then moved forwards, working tears back into his own eyes.

"Ex...excuse me?"

He stuttered. The doctor looked up with kind eyes. Finn pointed to the doors.

"My...my brother's in there...do you know what's happening? I just got here...and I can't find anything out...and I can't find my mom...but I need to know."

The doctor stopped with one hand on the doors.

"What's your name, son?"

"Uh..." said Finn, still stuttering in the role.

"It's...it's Anderson...Will Anderson."

"And his name?"

"Blaine...Blaine Anderson."

"Okay. I'll see what I can find out for you; just wait here a sec, alright?"

The doctor slid through the door with a tiny glance at Kurt.