Finn stood, slowly kicking the toe of his shoe against the pale cream wall of the hallway. It had been almost five minutes since the doctor had left them. Kurt’s eyes had not left the door since it had closed. Finn’s slight adrenaline rush at his daring lie was wearing off; now he was simply worried at the thinness of his bluff. Who was he trying to kid? He looked nothing like Blaine; he was at least half a foot taller, he knew really little about the kid. What if the doctor asked what Blaine’s birthday was, or where he’d been born? All innocent, simple questions that a brother should know. Finn ran his hand through his hair again.

“What exactly are you doing?”

It was the first time Kurt had spoken in those five minutes. His voice was low.

“What?”

Finn was startled by the slight malice behind it.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Kurt; I’m just trying to help…”

“They wouldn’t let me in Finn; they wouldn’t let his mother stay in there, what makes you think you have any better chance?”

“Kurt, come on man. It was the first thing that came into my head. Alright, it might not be the best idea…” Kurt snorted. “But you said you wanted to know, and now we might actually have a chance at finding out. So don’t get angry…”

“Did you not think I might have thought of the same idea in my half hour on this floor, waiting for anyone to tell me anything?”

Finn sighed and stopped himself from saying anything that might make the situation worse. Kurt was tired, hurt and worried, he reminded himself. He doesn’t mean any of this.

“They’ll have checks, you know.”

Finn swallowed.

“They can't just tell people stuff because they say they’re related.”

“I know, alright?”

Finn couldn’t stop his voice from rising slightly.

“Ok, so it seems stupid now, and it’s probably not going to work, but what if it does? You’re my brother and I’m trying to help you. I know you’re upset, but don’t let it get the better of you.”

Kurt looked at the floor, ashamed. Finn turned back to the wall with a sigh; he just wanted this whole nightmare to be over.

But then the door was flung open, with far more force than had ever occurred before, and the doctor reappeared struggling into a white coat. Kurt’s stomach pitched at the expression of worried haste on his face. He turned left, towards Finn, almost breaking into a run before he saw him. The look on his face changed to one of self-frustration and his hand flew up to his temple. He skidded to a halt. Finn realised the doctor had forgotten them.

“Oh…Mr…Mr Anderson, right?”

He looked left and right, seeing if there was anyone else in the corridor. His eyes caught on Kurt. As the door banged closed Kurt scrabbled himself from the floor and flew to Finn’s side. The doctor watched but the shook his head; he was still slowly walking forwards, ready to break back into a run at any moment.

“Yes.”

Finn watched the doctor uneasily; there was obviously something more important on his mind.

“Um…uh…”

The doctor was slightly out of breath. One arm into the coat, he kept catching the other in its outside pocket. Still he kept moving, almost a metre past Finn now. His chest kept rising and falling; he was quite young, and Kurt could see some panicking fear in his eyes. He glanced at his watch, looked the pair of them up and down again, and then threw his arm in the direction of the doors.

“Go…go through…Trauma Bay Four…tell them who you are and tell them Doctor Harris said it was ok.”

And he turned on his heel and ran. In the furthest distance Kurt could hear the sound of multiple sirens. It struck him that they, all of them, all the kids, were just a dot in time for a place like this.

As the doctor’s steps echoed around the corner and out of hearing, Finn turned to Kurt, holding out an arm. Their eyes met and Finn saw into all of Kurt’s fears and hopes and worries.

“You sure you’re ok to do this?”

Kurt swallowed and nodded. Finn tentatively put an arm around his shoulders again, pulling them both round to face the doors. Pushing Kurt slightly in front of him, he placed a hand of each of his shoulders and guided him forwards. As Kurt stretched out his hand to push one of the doors open Finn felt his tense, and his face turned slightly to the side.

“Finn…I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have doubted you…”

Finn squeezed those shoulders again.

“It’s forgotten. Just concentrate on you, and Blaine, ok? And I’m here for you. I’m always gonna be here for you.”

In his mind, Finn was saying all the words he’d wanted to say and doing all the things he’d imagined doing in that long dark hour under the piano. How many promises had he made, just like Kurt, in that time? Kurt gathered himself and pushed the door open.
-
Blaine was having a dream. Or, at least he thought it was a dream. It was really vivid; but at the same time studded with blotchy lights and blazing, hazy colours. And there was pain, which was odd; a strange, underlying vague pain. He couldn’t remember ever being in pain in a dream before.
Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember ever dreaming and being able to think he was dreaming at the same time before. The train of thought was too confusing, causing the pain to amplify, and he abandoned it. Instead he focused on what he could see before himself.

He was at school; in one of those long panelled corridors which ran down the east wing at Dalton, studded with bookcases and flowers and ornate sculptures. He had his uniform on, the blazer and trousers feeling comfortable and natural against his skin. He saw his hands do up the first button on his jacket. And then suddenly the hand was grasped; and somehow without looking Blaine could tell that it was Kurt. He was pulled along, watching as his feet ran, but unable to look up. His heart rushed with desire to see Kurt, to look at his smiling face, to touch those smooth cheeks as they blushed so innocently, to kiss those lips…but his head felt as heavy as a rock; too heavy for his neck. He couldn’t, not even with all his effort, lift it. All he could see was a hand, pale and beautiful, wrapped around his own in security.

But suddenly Blaine became aware of something behind them; again without looking. He could just tell it was there.

They seemed to be running faster and faster, and Blaine could feel Kurt pulling with more urgency on his hand. But he was slipping. Slowly, slowly, millimetre by millimetre. And he knew he could not keep going on his own.

They hurtled through the doorway at the end of the hallway, with long, floor length mirrors flanking it on either side. And as his eyes caught the mirror, Blaine saw what it was that pursued them.

It was darkness. Smothering, consuming darkness, pouring over everything from wall to ceiling like a cresting wave. Terror, cold dead terror was chasing them.

Blaine felt his feet being to stumble, felt his fingers slip again. But he thrust his other hand out, wrapping it around Kurt’s wrist. He couldn’t let go. He was so scared. The pain began to grow again.

“It’s just a dream…just a dream…” He told himself.

Then why couldn’t he wake up?

From all around him, fighting through the pain and heaviness of his head, he heard Kurt’s voice.

“Wake up, Blaine. Please…just wake up…”
-
Kurt stood dumbly by Blaine’s bedside, holding that hand again. Except this time he was careful, ever so careful, not to nudge the IV line which snaked under the skin. One of a flustered group of doctors was explaining something to Finn at the foot of the bed. Kurt was only half listening. He was staring into Blaine’s closed eyes; at his dark, almost bruised, eyelids, willing them to open.

He pressed the hand held in his; but there was no response.

A machine to his left bleeped and whirred into life. Kurt looked round at the doctor in concern, but the man ignored it. Instead a nurse emerged from within another square of green curtains across the room and came towards them. She walked down the opposite side of the bed to Kurt, running her hand motherly over Blaine’s covers. Adjusting two gauges and noting figures on a clipboard chart attached to the wall behind the bed, she turned to Kurt. The machine behind him slowed and bleeped out of life. She smiled, almost sadly.

“Are you a relative of Blaine’s?”

Kurt didn’t have the energy or the will to lie.

“No…I’m his boyfriend.”

The nurse’s expression didn’t change. She took up Blaine’s wrist in her hand and felt his pulse, checking it against the watch on her chest. Kurt watched, comforted by the apparent routine. She looked up at him again.

“He obviously likes you very much.”

She said, smiling. Kurt was confused; he didn’t follow.

“Try talking to him. I know people say it only works in the movies, or on TV, but trust me, sometimes just the sound of a loved one can help people get better faster.”

Kurt looked at her hesitantly for a moment. He still didn’t quite understand. But he bent down to Blaine’s ear all the same, just visible below the wide band of white which crowned his beautiful face.

“Wake up, Blaine,” he whispered, “Please…just wake up…”

Less than an inch away from those perfect eyes, a tear felt from Kurt’s lashes, rolling down Blaine’s cheek like a pearl on silk. Sniffing, he straightened up. The nurse was still watching him, the smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. She replaced Blaine’s arm on the blanket carefully. Kurt watched that face again; Blaine’s glossy mahogany curls seemed to grow straight out of the pure bandage, spewing across its top edge. For some reason it made him think of cress in an eggshell.

He realised Finn’s hands were at his back again.
“Kurt?” His voice was tentative. He didn’t want to break a moment. He didn’t want Kurt to have to leave at all, but the doctor insisted. As if to emphasise this, the doctor walked past them, rippling the green curtain which divided Blaine from whatever other pain the room contained. He reached up to the various machines, all bleeping with discord, and began to slowly disconnect some of them, placing the limp leads beside Blaine’s head on the bed. The nurse, noticing, began the same procedure on her side.

“Kurt, we have to go now, ok?”

Kurt blinked wordlessly. He let Blaine’s hand slip from his onto the white sheet. Together the two of them walked to the end of the bed and into the central isle of the room. Finn stepped aside as a bed carrying a small girl was rolled along and out of the doors they had come through. The girl was wrapped in blanket after blanket, pale clear fluid swinging in bags above her. A nurse with a teddy bear walked alongside the porters, waving it at her playfully. Kurt had moved towards Blaine’s bed as the little girl passed, and as he turned to rejoin Finn he saw the nurse come alongside him. She touched his hand and pointed to the watched which hung, upside down from Kurt’s view, on her uniform.

“Did you understand why I said to talk to him?”

Kurt shook his head slowly; he’d never been one to believe in the melodrama of ER and those awful hospital soaps.

“His pulse. It was quicker when you were here. Quicker again when you were talking to him.”

Kurt’s eyes widened.

“He’s fighting. And I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s for you.”

She walked away, taking a tray from a trolley to one side and immediately stepping into another cubicle. Kurt walked to Finn’s side, wondering.

“What did she say?”

Kurt considered telling him.

“Nothing.”

They reached the doors. Finn walked through and turned left, turning them back towards the waiting room. Kurt followed him. Then a thought struck him; lost in Blaine, he’d forgotten to listen, forgotten to ask.

“Wait…wait; what did the doctor say?”

Finn kept walking, although he faltered slightly at the question. Kurt ran to catch up with him, and coming alongside him looked up into his eyes.

“Finn? Finn…”

His eyes were deliberative. Inside himself Finn was struggling to find the words that the doctor had used, and was calculating how much, if he really hadn’t heard anything, he should tell Kurt. And how much he could tell Kurt. He wished there were more people around, like Burt or his mom to help out. But then Kurt ran in front of him and stopped dead, looking him straight in the eye. Finn stopped too, a metre separating them. He ran a hand across his face, resting his knuckles on his forehead so that they left a string of small white marks. In a wild though thought Kurt recognised it as the same gesture Blaine had made, right after their first kiss. Something rose in his throat and breathing became harder.

With a sigh from behind his hand Finn lent against the wall. Then he moved his arm away and looked at Kurt.

“Ok…ok…”

He slowed and twitched with agitation.

Kurt just watched him, his eyes still wide and filled with the memory of Blaine’s silent face.

Finn breathed again.

“The doctor said pretty much what his mom said…but, I mean, he said it clearer. They’re gonna do some scans and tests and stuff…”

Kurt jumped in.

“But, but why haven’t they done them already? I mean, he’s been here almost an hour already?”

Finn let him finish.

“They said they had to get him stabilised. He’d lost a lot of blood, Kurt. And they decided…well, they thought…they thought moving him might be too dangerous until his blood pressure and the swelling…” Finn winced at the word, “had levelled out. A bit.”

Kurt just kept watching him, unblinkingly, processing.

“Wha…what ‘swelling’?”

“They think whatever hit him caused some swelling on his…” Finn winced again, “his brain. It’s…it’s called a ‘cerebral contusion’ or something; a bruise on the brain.”

Kurt gaped, wordlessly.

“They can't be sure, of course, until they do the scans and the tests or whatever. But that’s probably why he kept drifting in and out at school; and it’s why he won’t wake up now.”

Finn waited a moment for the words to clear from the air.

“The doctor said he might also have a fractured skull, but apparently that’s not as serious. But, Kurt;” he said, reaching forward. The other boy’s eyes were unfocused now, gazing into the distance but unseeing. “He’s in the right place; and they’re doing everything they can. And the doctor said that they were about ready to take him to get his scans now; that’s why we had to leave. So everyone’s doing their bit, yeah? As long as they can control it and give him the right drugs to help, then he said everything is likely to work out fine in the long run…”

Kurt stuttered.

“The long run?”

“Yeah.”

“And what if it doesn’t?”

“What?” Finn tried to deflect the question.

“Tell me, Finn. I want to know.”

The serious eyes of the doctor flew across his mind; he’d been so insistent that Finn understood that there were still huge risks. How much could he share? Finn blinked for a second. He decided. Kurt deserved his honesty. Sugaring anything might just make everything worse in time.

“Um…if…if they can't control it, or if the injury is worse than it appears, then…”

Finn’s voice choked in his throat. Kurt’s eyes told him he’d understood, though.

“Then…then he won’t wake up?”

Finn could only nod. The fear and defeated hope in Kurt’s voice broke his heart.

“Or, or it might cause some kind of permanent damage.”

“Brain damage?”

Again he nodded. They stood in silence.

Until, what seemed like hours later, the doors, half a corridor behind them now, were flung open again and a bed was wheeled out, flanked by nurses and the same doctor. Kurt’s heart jumped from a cliff. He couldn’t see Blaine through the myriad of sheets and bandages and people; but he knew it was him. He set off into another pounding run, the next in an apparently countless line that evening, but once again Finn grabbed for him and held him.

“No, Kurt. You can’t go. Not yet.”

Blaine disappeared round the end of the corridor, and Finn turned Kurt back towards the waiting room; towards his family.