A/N: Hello again everyone. Welcome to the sequel of Lessons Unlearned. *cheers*

This fic, as you can see, will be a hurt/comfort fic about Kurt's recovery after what happened in LUL. Also, the other genre is Romance...make of this what you will, but we may see more of that than we did in LUL, as I said, that was only ever the crime, so now we see everything else... *insert lewd comment here* ;)

Whilst I suppose this could be read separately, it probably won't make much sense. I recommend either reading LUL before hand or just accepting that it may be a little confusing.

This may contain some triggers as the back story was rather violent. I do not advise reading if you are in a fragile state of mind.

This will be by far the most 'I-say-gory-but-it's-more-just-seperate-descriptive-words' chapter; simply for atmosphere. The rest is very much 'I-say-calmer-but-it's-not-exactly-calm' So give it a chance, even if it squicks you out a little.

But anyway...I digress and I hope you enjoy!

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Screaming.

Shouting.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

There is blood, so much blood. Kurt can feel it streaming out of his arm; can feel every beat of his heart force more of it out of his body and onto the floor. He can feel it soaking into his clothes. He can even smell it.

But he can't scream.

He can't move.

And he can't make it stop.

Barking.

A crash.

Shouting.

A gunshot.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Sirens.

Voices.

Pain.

Pain.

'Suspect is down. One bullet fired.'

'What I...'

'It's ok Jasper. Just breathe...there we go, breathe, breathe that's good...'

'Who fired?'

'Someone check the kid.'

'Get to the God Damn kid!'

'It's Hummel sir.'

'God!'

'Wha-'

'Get an Ambulance down here. NOW'

Pain.

...

Black.

There is a rush as the first of the Ambulances drives away. A small screech coming from the tires because right now the only thing the driver cares about is getting the teen in the back out alive. Besides, all the cops are there anyway and no one would dare tell him off when they know a kid's life is at stake.

There are 2 paramedics in the back with the boy. Trying their best to stop the blood flow and keep his heart going.

But so far nothing seems to be working.

The blood just keeps coming, the gaping wound across his wrist pouring out and through the gauze they wrap around. The oxygen mask on the boys face is hardly needed as he is barely breathing. The wounds across his back are almost as bad as those on his arm. Whilst they aren't bleeding so much they are black and scabbed, with yellow puss is beginning to ooze out, and slide down the boy's skin.

It takes just over 20 minutes and probably a few broken speed limits before they arrive at the hospital.

The boy is hoisted out the back, as the two paramedics try and steady all the wires and tubes already connected to him. He's quickly placed on a sliver gurney as more people crowd around; some blanching at the sight of the kid, others trying to blank it out, before grabbing a hold of the gurney and beginning to push.

'I'm his father.'

'I'm sorry sir you'll-'

'I'm his GOD DAMN FATHER.'

'But-'

'I want to see my SON!'

'Burt dear calm-'

'I will not calm down. This is my SON. My son who was missing for a month. A GOD DAMN MONTH. I will not let you keep him from me any longer.'

'Sir, he's in surgery-'

'SURGERY? What the HELL has that bastard done to my boy?'

The paramedic crew arrive with Kurt at the operating theatre and there are people all ready to go. Doctors decked out in toothpaste green scrubs and masks; gleaming scalpels resting on metal platters just waiting to slice. Needles just ready to pierce the skin.

The boy is pulled in and they quickly strip him down so the doctors and surgeons can get at the wounds.

There are so many they don't even know where to start.

Beep.

Tick.

Beep.

Tock.

Beep.

Tick.

Beep.

Tock.

'We're finished for now.'

'Are you sure Dr. Fielding?'

'Quite. Take him to a room and get him hooked up to an IV and a blood bag. Then get this kid some nourishment. And be quick.'

He's there now; in a room all to himself; surrounded by machines and gadgets galore. The steady beep of his heart monitor alerting all to the boys state.

Comatose. But not fatal.

Medically induced, to give his body a chance to heal.

He can be brought out of it in a day or so.

Voices.

A woman's...

And a man's.

Dad?

'Kurt. Oh God Kurt.'

'I...'

'How could anyone do this...? I don't-'

'It's ok Burt. It's o-'

'NO. It's NOT Ok. My Son could die. He's...he's so sick Carole I don't-'

'Hush...'

'I can't-'

A sob, followed by a sniff.

'Hush...It's ok to cry Burt. It's ok.'

'I just...he's my boy...I'm meant to protect him and-'

'There was nothing you could do honey. Sshhh'

'But I-'

'Hush now.'

'It's my-'

'No Burt. Don't you dare pin this on yourself.'

Almost as soon as the couple arrive they seem to leave; leaving the boy in the hands of the doctors as they wheel him away for more scans. This time, as they await the results of the blood tests, they take the boy to a large room; where a large X-Ray device is hanging from the ceiling.

They raise him up onto a long table like object. Laying him flat and placing his arms at right angles to his chest.

His body has already been stripped of his tattered clothes and adorned with a fresh hospital gown, devoid of any metal that could freak the scans.

They place a foam, clamp like object across his forehead and two on either side of his body, to keep him still in case by some miracle he starts to move.

Everyone then clears away; some leave the room, others head behind a large screen.

And they wait.

'He's good. We'll wait for the results now.'

'Where to next?'

'Take him back to his room. Then we can see if we need to do more surgery.'

'So...?'

'For now, he's ok.'

A door.

A voice.

A new voice.

A boys voice.

...

...

Blaine.

Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, Blaine!

Wake up, Wake up, WAKE UP!

Quiet.

Whispers.

Silence.

Footsteps.

A door.

A woman.

A button.

Wooziness.

Black.

'How long has he been out?'

'Altogether...probably around 24 hours. We can't quite tell as we don't know when he passed out naturally. But medically, he's been under heavy sedatives for around 22.'

'So... what are we doing now?'

'Now? Now we get to wake him up!'

A drip is removed; the chemicals that were pumped into the boy to keep him asleep are wheeled away. In a few minutes they can bring him back.

Colours.

No longer black but new shades and shapes.

Swirls and spirals, all muted and yet so very vibrant at the same time.

Quiet.

Calm and peaceful and so very quiet.

This is nice.

This is really nice.

No pain.

Just...

Nice.

...

Now it's too quiet.

No voices.

Where are the voices?

'Pulse?'

'Steady.'

'Blood sugar?'

'Steady.'

'Breathing? '

'Steady.'

'Ok. He's stable...let's do this.'

Sound.

More sound.

Now it's too much.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Needle.

Oh...Wow, that hurt.

Ouch.

Shit.

Ouch.

Again.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain, Pain, Pain, PAIN!

'Everyone stand back. Count down from 10 and we'll bring him back...10...9...8-

Pain, Pain, Pain, Pain, Pain, Pain!

...3...

...2...

...1-'

More colours.

Blues and whites and reds and greens and yellows and-

Light.

'Everybody get back. NOW'

The Black is gone.

...

And Kurt Hummel, opens his eyes.

TBC...

A/N: Leave me a comment. I'd love to know what you think or what you'd like to see.

Until next time...

Effy out!