A/N: Welcome to my new story. So, I have some of this written out and some of it planned out, and we'll see how things go. I know this story line is very stereotypical, and the focus of a lot of bad movies (the Vow *shudders*), but I've never seen a really good Klaine memory-loss fic, and I hope to remedy that. So, here goes. Oh, italics are flashbacks.

The summer of 2011 was the worst time of Blaine Anderson's life, and that's saying something. The following school year was both the second worst, and the best, time of Blaine's life. How could something be both, one might ask? Well, that involves a long story.

"I can't believe summer's almost over," Kurt said mournfully, stirring his milkshake with his spoon at one of the Glee club's summer outings. He hadn't drank any of the milkshake, of course (too many calories, no matter how many times Blaine insisted that he was beautiful).

The Glee club was sitting rather happily around the table. For all the drama that had happened in the last year, they thought the beginning of senior year (for most of them) could be legen- wait for it- dary. For once, all was mostly right in the Glee club's world. No one had heard from Quinn since school ended, and Mercedes had a non-Glee boyfriend (which, all things considered, was now plain unheard of) of whom the club didn't approve. Puck was back to his man-whore ways. Besides all that, everything was okay.

"Going back to school this year won't be terrible, Kurt. You're back at McKinley and the jocks will come to respect us once we win Nationals," Rachel said enthusiastically, her big brown eyes full of dreams as usual.

"You do realize Nationals is at the end of the year, so most of the year will still be hell, right?" Kurt asked, but he hadn't corrected Rachel. He believed it as much as she did.

'You're back at McKinley' was the part of Rachel's small tirade Blaine had focused on. Yes, he knew his wonderful boyfriend was happier at McKinley than he had been at Dalton, despite the bullying, and Blaine wanted him to be happy, but nothing would be the same. Their relationship had been wonderful during the summer, especially with the added fact they were openly in love, but how long would it last when they had to travel two hours just to see each other?

"Kurt, try to have a little optimism," Rachel chastised him, and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I'm a realist, thank you." Kurt stood up from the table to throw away his full milkshake cup. Blaine pouted; he had totally planned to steal that from him.

It took about a minute for Blaine's entire world to turn upside down. Kurt strut across the ice cream parlor with the fierceness of any America's Next Top Model, and, yes, Blaine would admit to watching him walk away. That part of their relationship was shaky to say the least, but that didn't mean Blaine wasn't extremely attracted to his boyfriend.

In Lima, it wasn't unusual for someone to shove or trip Kurt. As much as Blaine wanted to kill everyone who dared to do such a thing, it happened fairly often. So it wasn't much of a surprise when some idiot who looked about their age (and was probably a jock at McKinley, but even they didn't wear their letter jackets during the summer) stuck his foot out as Kurt walked past.

Everything felt slow motion as Blaine watched Kurt trip, his milkshake falling out of his hand, sloshing against the dirt underneath his feet and his shoes. Kurt fell forward, his head slamming onto an empty table with a sickening thud. He fell to the ground in the puddle of milkshake without so much as a groan. He was unconscious.

Blaine could vaguely hear Rachel emit a shriek that could crack windows as he rushed over to his boyfriend. The rest of the table was behind him, Tina and Rachel already in tears. "Kurt!" Blaine fell to his knees next to his boyfriend's limp body. "Kurt? Come on, Kurt, wake up."

Somebody said to call an ambulance. It could have been him, he had no idea. Blood pooled around Kurt's head from the cut on his forehead, making chestnut locks stick to his skin. Blaine rolled him over, trying to be as gentle as possible while knowing Kurt couldn't feel anything. His hand brushed the blood puddle as he checked Kurt's pulse. It was steady but weak. A drop of the blood fell onto Kurt's lower lip as Blaine checked his airway. He was breathing.

He could hear shouting behind him as Puck went after the jock who had tripped Kurt, Finn hot on his heels. "No, Kurt, no. You have to be okay. Wake up, Kurt, wake up." He could hear himself murmuring, but he couldn't seem to stop. A small, supportive hand fell on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. He wasn't the one they should be worried about.

"Blaine, the ambulance will be here in two minutes." The soothing voice was, surprisingly, Santana's, and he became vaguely aware of the fact that she was kneeling next to him. "I called Kurt's dad, he's gonna meet us at the hospital." How much time had passed? When had she done that?

"He has to be okay. He can't be hurt, he can't be," Blaine muttered. His chest was too tight, his airways were locking up in shock. What would he do without Kurt?

"He's gonna be fine, Blaine. He's breathing," she said soothingly. Blaine could dimly hear sirens and the sound of Rachel sobbing. Santana pulled him away with a hand on his shoulder as the paramedics came over. A male voice was recounting the accident in an even tone as the first responders put his boyfriend on a stretcher and into the back of an ambulance.

"I have to be in there, I have to go with him, I need to be with him, I don't want him to wake up without me," Blaine mumbled, mostly to himself, as he tried to pull out of Santana's now-firm grip, which had switched to his arm.

"They won't let you," she said firmly, but not unkindly. "They're assholes. Come on, I'll drive you there." Little rocks and dirt slid out from under his shoes as Santana pulled him away, causing him to almost slip and forcing him to follow her.

"Why can't I be with him? Why can't I be happy?" Blaine whispered under his breath, trying to shake the mental image of Kurt lying in a pool of slightly-pink vanilla milkshake and blood.

The hospital in Lima was about 10 minutes away from the ice cream stand. To Blaine it felt like 10 lifetimes. He didn't cry, he couldn't cry, he was too numb, too in shock. Santana was white-knuckling the wheel as she drove him, and if Blaine had cared about anything besides Kurt in that moment, he would have been worried they were going to crash.

As it was, Santana had barely braked before Blaine stumbled out of the car, seeing the ambulance that had brought Kurt to the hospital being taken back to its garage, empty. 9413 MC was the license plate. Blaine would remember that for a long time.

"Would you pay attention?" Santana's voice demanded from behind him as Blaine stood watching the ambulance leave. At the same time he heard her voice, he heard the car that had almost hit him while it was turning honk. "Come on," she said firmly, dragging him by the arm again towards the hospital, this time not in the middle of the road.

Blaine was hit by a shock of cold air and the smell of blood, disinfectant, and sickness as the automatic hospital doors opened. Santana let go of his arm as he bolted for the front desk. "Kurt Hummel was just brought in. Where is he?" he demanded, not caring how frightened the young reception's slightly-too-far-apart eyes looked.

"He-he's in surgery. I-I, sir, I'm not sure exactly what..." Her wide brown eyes got even wider just before a solid hand landed on his shoulder. This one he didn't shake off. He recognized it.

"They're sewing up his head, kid. He's gonna be okay." Blaine whirled on Mr. Hummel, his chest still feeling too tight. He didn't know that. How could he know that?

"Did you already speak to the doctor?" Blaine demanded. Mr. Hummel couldn't possibly know that everything was going to be okay if he hadn't. How had they gotten there so fast? Why couldn't they hurry?

"No, but I saw him as they carted him in." Blaine's vision blurred a little at the idea of his beloved boyfriend being carted on a cold gurney through the sterile foyer of the hospital, blood dripping from the massive lesion on his head. Mr. Hummel grimaced. "I know it looked pretty bad, but that's not a fatal wound. I've seen a lot and I know."

"What about brain damage? You didn't hear..." Blaine's throat closed up as his mind replayed the audible thud Kurt's head had made as it hit against the wooden table.

"Burt," Santana said quietly as Blaine tried to remember how to breath. Not Kurt. Why did it have to be Kurt? "He hit his head off a table. Blaine's right." Santana's hand landed on the small of Blaine's back and he could suck in a breath again. "For all we know, Kurt's brain-dead." Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the image of Kurt lying in polyester pajamas in a hospital bed, hooked up to a ton of machines that were the only things keeping him alive, his boyfriend's skin barely darker than the pristine white sheets. Blaine's stomach rolled.

"I think Blaine needs to sit down," Carole said gently, the first time she had spoken and thus the first time Blaine noticed her presence. He was man-handled into the hospital chair next to Finn by Santana.

"Put your head between your knees," Santana whispered, "you look like Kermit the frog."

Blaine could dimly hear them talking as he slid to the floor in front of the chair and did just what Santana had suggested until his nausea passed. He could hear it when Carole argued that he should be treated for shock, and Santana pointing out that the only thing that would help him was a sedative or to know about Kurt and that delaying him from seeing Kurt would only make it worse (she didn't phrase it quite as nicely, but that was the general gist). Burt made the final decision that Blaine could handle himself. Then the topic changed from him to where Burt had sent the Glee club, a question which only Santana had thought to ask, and Blaine no longer cared.

Blaine closed his eyes, his head still between his knees, trying not to think of Kurt as he was in the last few... God, had it only been minutes?, but rather the other times they had spent together. Logically, it was probably a bad calming technique, but he didn't particularly care.

"Oh my God, all your Dalton friends are crazy," Kurt declared with a giggle as he cuddled into Blaine's side. They had been lounging on Kurt's bed, watching reruns of The Big Bang Theory on Blaine's laptop, and the mention of "Nerdvana" had brought to mind the time when Kendrick had started burning all of Nick's nerd collectibles after the other boy had pulled a prank on him.

"Not as crazy as yours," Blaine argued for the sake of arguing, wrapping an arm around Kurt's shoulders despite how warm it was in Kurt's house. The bang and whir of hammers and saws from whatever 'utter madness' (as Kurt called it) Mr. Hummel and Finn were up to in the backyard had caused them to use headphones to watch, and Blaine liked it much better now that he could actually talk to and hear his boyfriend. Kurt, of course, had a good laugh over the fact that Blaine still had a splitter, which had apparently stopped being cool five years ago.

"Yes, but I love them. And you would too." Blaine pretended that wasn't pointed. Kurt had been bugging him about the idea of him transferring to McKinley. As usual, the countertenor wasn't exactly subtle (he called it being passive aggressive), but it was a big decision. He couldn't betray the Warblers. It wouldn't be any easier for him to transfer to McKinley than it would be for Kurt to transfer back to Dalton.

"I already do," he said in way of deflection, but since he knew Kurt wouldn't let go of the issue, he added, "I promise you I will have decided on my path for the year by the first day William McKinley High School, home of the Titans, is in session for your senior year. Okay?"

"I think I can live with that," Kurt said with a smile. Kurt closed his glasz eyes as he leaned up for a kiss, and Blaine would be stupid not to oblige him. Blaine kissed Kurt gently as the sparks that went off whenever Kurt's lips touched his set a fire in his chest.

Kurt pulled away before it could become anything serious, resting his head on Blaine's shoulder, his eyes still closed, long eyelashes casting a series of small shadows on his cheeks. "I love you," Blaine smiled, the way he always did whenever he heard those three little words from Kurt's mouth, the ones that meant so much, the ones that made his heart thud, his breath catch, and his eyes a little wet every time he heard them, "and I promise you that's the real reason I'm pushing this. The lack of blazers is just a pleasant side effect."

Blaine snorted at the not-so-sweet part of Kurt's statement. "Right." Smiling a little, he added, "You've never seen what I wear when I have total control of my outfits and my full wardrobe. You'll be appalled by my lack of fashion sense."

"You're gay. How bad can it be?" Those first two words, which had sounded so cruel from so many mouths before in Blaine's life, still sounded like a sigh of relief. Kurt's infatuation with Finn, no matter how brutally it had ended, had left a permanent mark.

"You'll see," Blaine smirked evilly. "And I love you too, by the way." He had just realized he hadn't said it back. Of course, it was implied, as he was the first one to say the three words that could make or break a relationship, but it was almost as nice to say as it was to hear. Blaine pressed a kiss to Kurt's sweet-smelling hair. "You smell nice."

"I always smell nice," Kurt said, but he leaned up to kiss Blaine again. "You do realize, with Dad and Finn outside and Carole at work, we're all alone here." The implications of what Kurt had just said...

"Kurt Hummel." The name, although in an unfamiliar voice and from an unfamiliar man, broke Blaine out of his memories, and he was the first one to stand up, rushing over to the wispy man who had called his boyfriend's name.

"Hold your horses, Hobbit," Santana said, appearing next to him, but it wasn't mean. She quickly brushed away a tear Blaine hadn't realized he'd shed.

"I'm his father," Mr. Hummel said from behind the two, putting a hand on Blaine's shoulder. Santana held his hand, her fake nails biting into his skin.

"My name is Dr. Eastlake. If you would follow me." Blaine was coming to hate this man, and the doctor said a dozen words in front of him. The man was about an inch shorter than Blaine, skinny and frail-looking. His fallow brown hair was thinning in all directions, not helping how wispy he already looked. Round glasses with thin wire rims were perched on a too-big nose, and the dull glaucous eyes behind them held no sympathy.

The doctor led them through more sterile white halls until he reached an empty doctor's office. Mr. Hummel and Carole walked hand-in-hand directly behind him, and Blaine followed, his hand still entwined with one of Santana's. Finn followed behind them; he hadn't said a word since the accident.

"Please sit," he said coldly, going to sit behind the desk, making a clear separation between him and Kurt's loved ones. "What I have to tell you is not easy, but I will not sugarcoat it. That would waste your time and mine." Blaine could punch him in the face. The hand not gripping Santana's formed into a fist. In a way, the anger was nice. It was a respite, however brief, from the numbness he had been feeling. "Your son is fine, externally. His head was sown up, with no hair removal necessary, and if that were the only issue I would release him to you tomorrow. However, that is not the case. A computed axial tomography has revealed moderate to severe swelling of the brain, especially on the temporal lobe. We will use magnetic resonance imaging to see more shortly, but it is, frankly, a gamble if Kurt will wake up at all." Carole gasped, but no one else reacted to the news. How was one supposed to react to that?

"No, Kurt, no, please." Blaine found himself muttering again, but not even Santana had noticed. Blaine wondered to whom he was pleading.

"If he wakes up, we will proceed to use magnetoencephalography or functional magnetic resonance imaging, depending on the level of functionality immediately visible, to determine the damage." The doctor had no more to say. "Feel free to stay in this room until there is more information available." This was obviously a hospital courtesy, as he sounded bored and reluctant to say it, like it was a painful formality.

"Can we see him?" Carole was the one to ask, and Santana hissed through her teeth as Blaine squeezed her hand almost to the breaking point.

"Shortly." The doctor left with no explanation.

"Did anyone understand what that meant? I know that Kurt could have brain damage, but what was all that technical..." Mr. Hummel looked at Santana and stopped himself from swearing. If it had been a normal day, someone would have reassured him this was not necessary, but it was about as far from normal as any day would ever be.

Blaine nodded affirmative (AP Anatomy & Physiology had done wonders towards helping him understand the doctor), but he took a seat next to Finn and put his head in his hands, not in the mood to explain. Everything was just as he feared. Some asshole who didn't think through the consequences of his actions had given Kurt severe brain damage, maybe even killed him. Blaine would have his head if it was the last thing he did. "Why? Why does it always have to happen to him?" Blaine felt the gazes of the three in the room with their heads still on straight when he whispered that. Apparently it had been a little louder than the rest.

Santana answered them, thankfully, so he didn't have to. "Okay, the douchebag I call my dad is a brain doctor. Let's see if I can think of what he's nagged about. The thing they did on Kurt already is a CAT scan, which showed swelling in some not-so-good places. They want to use an MRI soon. When Kurt wakes up, they want to use either an MEG or fMRI to see if everything in his brain is firing properly. Right, Blaine?"

"Yes," he replied, but his voice sounded hollow, even to him. "He's going to be okay. He has to be okay," he whispered.

"Sweetie, are you sure we shouldn't get you treated for shock?" Carole asked him gently. No, no, you can't take me away from Kurt.

"Carole..." Santana tried to intervene. Please, please, Kurt, I need to see him.

"Well, Jesus, sweetie, he's talking to himself!" Carole turned to Blaine. "I'm sorry, honey, but that's not normal." Blaine shook his head vehemently.

"No! No, I need to see Kurt, you can't take me away from Kurt," Blaine said firmly, and he knew he was babbling, but he couldn't help himself. His one thought was to see Kurt, to know Kurt was okay.

"Carole, once we get this business with Kurt's head all sorted out, we can get Blaine to some doctors, all right?" Burt asked, mediating differing opinions as he had so many times lately.

"Would you please tell this idiot that I have the TV in the living room reserved on Tuesday nights to watch So You Think You Can Dance?" Kurt asked Mr. Hummel in an annoyed tone, gesturing to where Finn was holding the remote and watching a basketball game (basketball was not on the list of sports Blaine particularly cared about, a sentiment Kurt approved of).

"Kurt, we could just go watch it upstairs on my laptop, there's a life feed on..." Blaine trailed off at the intense glare his boyfriend gave him. "Or maybe not," he muttered under his breath.

"Dude, So You Think You Can Dance is lame. This is March Madness! It's important!" Finn argued as Kurt tried to grab at the remote in his hand and failed due to Finn's superior height. Kurt was leveling his step-brother with his most fearsome bitch glare and Finn didn't even appear to be fazed. Blaine had to be impressed.

"Absolutely nothing about basketball is important! Especially not more important than So You Think You Can Dance," Kurt replied, not giving up on his pursuit of the remote. "And if you insist on lording the remote about my head, Finnegan Christopher Hudson, I will climb you like a tree!" Finn didn't react, but Blaine choked on his own salvia at a suddenly interesting mental picture and Mr. Hummel glared at him.

"Try me," Finn replied, not helping in the least.

"Boys, settle," Mr. Hummel demanded, holding out his hand for the remote and being handed it immediately. Kurt stopped trying to grab it. In Mr. Hummel's house, his word was law. "Finn, how many days a week is March Madness on?" Mr. Hummel already knew the answer to that, and Blaine had a feeling Kurt had won the argument.

"Almost all of them," Finn grumbled as if he had figured the same thing out.

"And Kurt, how many days a week is So You Think You Can Dance on?" Mr. Hummel asked.

"One!" Kurt announced triumphantly. "Once a week." Kurt, very maturely, stuck his tongue out at his step-brother.

"Finn..." Mr. Hummel said slowly.

"Fine, fine," Finn grumbled, and Mr. Hummel handed a victorious Kurt the remote.

"Mwahaha!" Kurt said, plopping on the couch and grabbing Blaine's hand to pull him down as well. "Victory is sweet," he muttered, curling into Blaine's side and changing the channel. Blaine smiled, kissing the top of Kurt's head softly...

"Blaine?" Carole's voice asked insistently. "Blaine!"

"Yes, Mrs. Hummel?" Blaine asked once he had stopped reminiscing. It was at the same time relieving and physically painful to think about Kurt when he was lying in a hospital bed where Blaine couldn't reach him, possibly with brain damage, damage that could be... but Blaine couldn't think about that.

"Burt, I really think he needs to see a doctor," Carole insisted, holding up Blaine's arm. Blaine saw the goose bumps there and only registered then how cold the room was, shivering. "He's showing all the signs of shock: cold, nausea, clammy, irregular breathing, agitation, blue-tinged skin, dizziness, fast pulse. The only thing he hasn't done yet is pass out."

"Mrs. Hummel, please, I'm fine. I just... I need to see him," Blaine begged, and Carole sighed, searching his face with her eyes. Whatever she saw there clearly convinced her, because she let go of his arm and sat down on the opposite side of him from her son.

"How long do you think it will be until we can see him, Santana?" Burt asked, and Santana sighed, looking annoyed.

"There's no reason that we shouldn't be able to see him right now," she said, getting Blaine's attention. He had sprung out of his seat before Santana could say another word. "They might just be settling him into a room, hooking him up to IVs and junk." As if Santana's words were magic, Dr. Eastlake entered the room, followed by a scared-looking woman whom Blaine recognized as an intern from too many episodes of Emily Owens, M.D. Kurt loved that show. Kurt... Blaine sighed.

"Dr. Sanchez will take you to your patient." Blaine swallowed back anger again as Santana took his hand, gently prying his fingers out of the fist they had been holding for... too long. His fingers were white with blood loss, and pins and needles pricked up his arm as he regained feeling. They barely registered in Blaine's brain; he was too focused on the fact that the cold doctor couldn't even care to look up Kurt's name.

"He's in the critical care unit," the intern said as she walked them down the hallway, her white nursing shoes padding softly against the tile floors. Her skin was dark, with an olive tone that suggested Italian, her black hair pulled up in a tight ballerina bun, her face lined with stress, giving her the appearance of being probably ten years older than she actually was. There was at least some compassion in her eyes, at least. "We'll be taking him to diagnostic imaging soon, but we thought you might like some time with him first. The CAT scan was immediately necessary," she said, as though explaining why they hadn't seen Kurt yet made it any better. "If everything on his MRI seems okay, we may move him to the neurology department. Busy day here." As if they cared. The intern seemed nervous, which may have explained why she was chattering away. "All right. Room 130." The intern ushered Blaine, Santana, Burt, Carole, and the still-silent Finn into the private room, shutting the door behind them and not entering herself. There was nothing else she could say.

Blaine clenched his fists so tight that Santana retracted her hand at the sight before him. It was just as bad as he had imagined it. Kurt, in a pale blue polyester nightgown that he would hate if he were conscious, breathing shallowly, hooked up to an IV and a steadily-beeping heart monitor, his skin almost as pale as the white, probably-itchy sheets. Blaine was caught between wanting to run to his boyfriend and wanting to run as far away as he could.

Santana had to catch him when he took a step forward and stumbled, feeling dizzy again. There was a possibility that this was the last time he would ever see Kurt, and this wasn't how he wanted to remember him.

"I'm going to miss this school," Kurt said on his last day at Dalton, taking a walk around the school to reminisce, Blaine holding his hand the whole way. They had been through the dorms, stopping for Kurt to say goodbye to everyone. Now they were in the top level of the main class building, near where the Warblers usually rehearsed.

"You could stay," Blaine suggested as he had a hundred times when Kurt had first mentioned the idea of leaving. Not only was McKinley unsafe, but he would miss his boyfriend more than Kurt could even imagine.

"And you could come to McKinley, but those events seem equally unlikely," Kurt teased with a smile, knowing that if he didn't diffuse the tension this conversation would turn into a fight. It already had... three times.

"Fair enough," Blaine said with a sigh, pulling Kurt into the Warblers' rehearsal space and tugging him over to sit at the window seat. "I'm really going to miss you," Blaine said honestly, and Kurt sniffled, the afternoon light hitting him perfectly.

"We'll still see each other. You know that. McKinley is my home, Blaine," Kurt said, and Blaine could tell by his voice that he was getting choked up, so he pulled Kurt close instead of replying. Kurt clutched at his back, letting out a shaky sob. "Sorry, I'm being silly," he muttered, pulling away to wipe at his tears.

"No, you're not," Blaine said, his own eyes feeling a little wet. "And you're right," he said, trying to place the sense of optimism back in the atmosphere. "Nothing is going to change between us, right?"

"Right." The way Kurt leaned forward was clearly an invitation, one Blaine gladly accepted. They hadn't kissed very much since their very first kiss, since they were never alone and whenever they looked about to kiss, their friends had this rude habit of... well, being rude.

Blaine kissed his boyfriend softly, trying to will back the tears and knowing Kurt was doing the same. Kurt pulled away from their soft kisses after a while, and Blaine took a second to admire his boyfriend. His perfect skin, his soft pink lips, the way the afternoon sunlight made his blue eyes glow.

"God, you are so beautiful," Blaine muttered, leaning forward to kiss Kurt again.

"Come on, Anderson," Santana said, no edge to her voice, pulling Blaine away from that bittersweet afternoon. Blaine snapped back to reality, to see Burt and Carole sitting to one side of Kurt's bed. Burt holding his son's hand and Carole resting a hand over the blankets on top of Kurt's leg. Finn was leaning against the wall opposite Kurt, his eyes dark and haunted. Santana took Blaine's hand gently, walking over to Kurt, and Blaine followed like a puppy-dog, completely lost and afraid. Seeing his beautiful boyfriend up close was even worse, the bandage over his forehead marring the perfect appearance from far away. For a moment, it had looked like he was simply sleeping, but that ruined the illusion.

"Kurt..." Blaine whimpered, unable to help himself as he sat down, taking Kurt's free hand and brushing Kurt's mussed hair off of his forehead. "God, Kurt." No one said anything, Santana walking away to lean next to Finn, resting her head on his shoulder in solidarity.

Blaine had no idea how long they stayed in silence like that. He hadn't even noticed if there was a clock in the room, and he certainly wasn't going to look away from Kurt to check it. He was soaking up every second of Kurt's presence that he could. Eventually, there was a rap on the door.

"Excuse me," Dr. Sanchez said softly, obviously realizing that she was interrupting a family moment but having no choice. At least it was her, and not Dr. Eastlake. That man was in dangerous waters with Blaine. "We would like to take Kurt to diagnostic imaging now. The more we know about what's going on with his brain, the better." Not that there was much they could do but hope the swelling went down. Blaine didn't say that though. It wasn't her fault.

"Sure," Burt said gruffly, clearing his throat. "Should we clear out?"

"You may stay in here if you would like, or you can stay in the waiting room," Dr. Sanchez offered as she gestured to people. Two men came in with a gurney, one grabbing Kurt's IV pole, and the other making Blaine start as he disconnected Kurt from the heart monitor. The one continuous beep it let out sounded like a bad omen. It sounded like a flat line. "I can get more chairs, if you..." she gestured helplessly to Santana and Finn. Santana shook her head, Finn didn't react at all.

"We'll stay in here, thanks," Carole said gently. "We want to see him as soon as possible afterwards." Dr. Sanchez nodded as she came forward to assist the two men. One of the men lifted Kurt up easily, placing him on the gurney, the other following with the IV pole. Dr. Sanchez helped them to wheel it out of the room. After the sound of the wheels scraping against the floor faded as Kurt was taken down the hallway, there was silence.

"Maybe you should go home, Santana," Burt said gently. "We might be here for a while."

"No thanks, Mr. H," Santana said quietly, still leaning on Finn. She didn't explain, and Burt didn't comment. "Besides, an MRI is usually like... forty-five minutes."

"God," Blaine muttered. That long? Thankfully, Burt didn't even try to suggest that he went home. There was no chance he was leaving while Kurt was still unconscious. If, God forbid, anything... happened, Blaine wanted to be there.

A/N: How do you like so far? No, Kurt's not going to die. He's going to wake up. It literally says in the summary what's going to happen. Happy ending, promise :) Also, the medical stuff in here: not strictly real. Possible, maybe, but not real.

Songs mentioned: None. And there probably won't be very many. It's not a sing-song-y type story.

Review are Love.