Ghosts Within Us
Title: Ghosts Within Us
Author: Rosie (who lives here when not writing!)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Warnings: Angst. With an extra helping of angst. Language. Medical information that I cannot promise will be 100% accurate. Also (spoilers for the ending - highlight to see) major character death.
Length: 33000+ overall
Summary: Their lives change in a matter of hours. They're asleep together as they usually are, surrounded only by the sound of their breathing. Later, Blaine's in hospital in a medically-induced coma, his life close to breaking point.
"How do you love someone who cannot truly love you back?"
Notes: This fic was inspired by the story of Clive Wearing and his wife Deborah. My psychology studies introduced me to the story, and then Deborah Wearing's book, Forever Today had me fascinated. Many elements of this story are taken from their own, and if you haven't read it, I would recommend that you do, because it's an incredible read. Six months after I first discovered it, I now have this; by far the longest thing I've ever written, and it's been an amazing experience.
As I stared this 6 months ago, there will be a few deviations from canon. Cooper doesn't exist, and my graduation-idea-of-the-time has since been proved wrong, though is what I have used still in this. Otherwise, all happened as in the show.
I must also thank some of the incredible people who have helped me out with this. To my endless inspirations, Emily and Roma. To my very own Burt Hummel and beta, Jen. To my other lovely beta, Robyn. And to Lauren and everyone else who put up with my constant frustration and writer's block while writing this. Thank you.
My hands push down
between hollow, invisible sleeves,
hesitate, then take hold
and lift:
a green holiday; a red christening;
all your unfinished lives
fading through dark summers
entering my head as dust.
-In The Attic, Andrew Motion
-
How can you love someone who cannot love you back?
-
It all starts off very suddenly.
They’re at home, curled up within each other. Beneath the duvet they’re a tangle of limbs and fingers clutched.
And then Blaine wakes up the next morning and he’s burning burning and the lights are too bright and there’s a loose ache in the pit of his stomach and he moans uselessly before rolling over and throwing up over the side of the bed.
-
“Hey Blaine, you okay?” Kurt’s voice is muffled through the haze of sleep.
“No - not good.”
Across the bed, Blaine feels Kurt roll over, a hand on his cheek, in his hair.
“Blaine, you don’t feel well at all. Do you want to eat anything? Can I get you something?”
“No, thank you. I just want to throw up every time I move and everything aches and -”
“It’s okay, Blaine. I’ll let you rest. Call me if you need anything, okay?”
Blaine tries to hide himself amongst the damp sheets and closes his eyes to escape.
-
He can’t sleep.
-
Everything’s spinning and everything aches and Blaine doesn’t know what’s happening and there’s music, music and screaming and a fire a fire and the smell of smoke and
nothing.
-
“Blaine, Blaine, oh God, Blaine, are you okay?”
There’s an angel above him. An angel with Kurt’s face. An angel with Kurt’s terrified face where the tears adorn his eyes and the soft creases of worry line his head.
“What?”
“You were screaming, told me to stop the music when there was no music, then I came in here and you turned and stared at me then your eyes closed and you had some kind of seizure. Blaine, please, you’re really not well. Let’s get you to hospital.”
Kurt begins to strip the sheets from the bed, ignoring Blaine’s distant protests.
“Would you like me to call nine-one-one, or shall I take you myself?”
“You, please, Kurt - no, don’t want to go - ,”
“Blaine, please, you have to.” The break in Kurt’s voice is unmistakeable as the worry overwhelms him. “Here, let me carry you, we’ll get you some help.”
Kurt slowly inches his hands beneath Blaine, starts to lift him, and Blaine cries out as his head falls back. As they find their way from the house Kurt whispers to him, soothes him, tells him he’s going to be okay, that they’re getting help and Kurt doesn’t know if Blaine can really hear him or not but he hopes so.
Blaine’s cry echoes through the early evening as Kurt lays him in the back seat of the car, and he writhes faintly at the sound of Kurt closing the car door.
They drive to the hospital in a blur.
-
“My husband, Blaine Anderson - he’s ill, sick, he needs to be seen quickly.”
Beside him, Blaine moans again.
“Kurt, the light - it’s too bright, it’s like the sun, I don’t like it.”
The woman at the desk, with bleached hair and red lipstick and uncaring eyes, taps a few details into the computer.
“Someone will be with you as soon as possible.”
“How long?” Kurt asks, a little breathless.
But before he can get an answer Blaine collapses, shaking, his body broken and wracked by tremors and Kurt’s there at his side before a nurse is pushing him away.
Blaine stills.
Kurt breathes.
-
The emergency room is a patchwork of colours and sound and Kurt stands alone in amongst it as he watches the shoals of doctors and nurses and consultants swarm around an unconscious, unfeeling Blaine.
Soon there’s an IV in his arm and a drip and a machine that goes beep beep beep like a mock-heartbeat and people shouting “bloods” and “MRI scan” and “page Dr Smith” and Kurt doesn’t want this. He wants to hold Blaine, tell him he’ll get better without the mechanics and the medicine and he knows it’s rubbish but God he just feels so helpless right now.
He just wishes he could do something.
-
At one point, they take Blaine away.
But he’s back before long.
-
Blaine’s sleeping now.
-
“We’ve got Blaine’s MRI scan back and there are some abnormalities. We’re not sure what it could be just yet. We don’t think there’s any sort of mass there, and nor do we think it’s meningitis, but he’s still not out of the woods yet. He’s seriously ill. We suspect now that is could either be cerebrovascular disease or a condition known as encephalitis, where a virus crosses the barrier between the blood and the brain. We’ll start treating him with Acyclovir in the meantime to try and stop anything that might already be going on, but we’re going to need to do further tests once he wakes up to get a proper diagnosis.”
“Right, okay.”
-
When Blaine wakes up again Kurt’s fingers are laced with his.
“Hey,” Kurt whispers, his voice a little rough.
Blaine mouths a hello but doesn’t speak.
“They’ve just got to do a couple more tests, Blaine, then you’ll be feeling better, okay?”
Beneath closed eyes, Blaine whimpers, folding inwards.
“Hello, Blaine, my name’s Doctor Smith and I’m just going to talk you through everything I’m going to do. It will be very quick and it won’t take long. We think that there might be a virus that’s affecting your brain. It’s serious, but we’ve caught it early and we’ll be able to do something about it as soon as we find out what it is. We’ll take a bit more blood and get that tested and I’d also like to be able to do a lumbar puncture, so that we can identify the problem and get you feeling better. Is that okay with you?”
Dr Smith’s voice is warm and feminine and staid, a source of comfort within the room. And the fact that her voice doesn’t make Blaine cry out and cover his ears must be a good thing, right?
Kurt hears the tear of a wrapper, the click of a join coming together.
“What I’m going to do is lift the sheets and your gown, and put a little antiseptic over the area. The way you’re lying is just fine.”
But it’s not fine, Kurt thinks. It’s not fine that Blaine’s curled over to try and block out every single one of his senses, not moving without screaming, aching in pain and so, so scared -
“You might want to hold his hand, Kurt, just in case.”
As Kurt tries to slip his fingers between Blaine’s without dislodging them from their safehold, Blaine whispers, “Kurt, you’re cold.”
“I’m going to put a little anaesthetic into your skin, Blaine. It will sting a little, but it shouldn’t be too bad. If it hurts, squeeze Kurt’s fingers. It’ll help.”
A few seconds later, Blaine’s grip tenses and a low sigh echoes in the room.
“There. We’ll wait a few minutes for it to work, and then we can get it all done.” She gives Kurt an apologetic smile. Blaine closes his eyes.
-
It’s a few minutes later that Doctor Smith leaves with tubes of bits of Blaine and an It’ll be alright and all that hangs in her wake is the ripple of Blaine’s cries of pain and Kurt, left alone in the silence.
-
The room is still.
Blaine is sleeping.
Kurt is watchful.
And then
..............................................................................................
No.
“Blaine? Blaine? Help! Somebody, please help! Please - ,”
Two nurses round the corner quickly, run through the door to Blaine, where he’s shaking and out-of-control and helpless until one injects something through his IV and another adds something to the drip and
“He’s sleeping now. It’s okay. He’ll sleep for a while, at least until we get the results of the tests back. We’re going to keep giving him the Acyclovir in the meantime. You’re welcome to stay with him, but you look tired. You should go home - have a shower, change your clothes, get something to eat at the very least. It’ll do you good, I promise.”
-
Kurt does go home.
But he’s back at the hospital within two hours.
That night he falls asleep, his head resting on Blaine’s bed.
-
The next day Kurt leaves Blaine’s side three times.
Once to get coffee and breakfast.
Once to get coffee and some food for the evening.
And once when they take Blaine away for a second MRI, just to make sure.
-
Oh, Kurt waits patiently. He waits as the seconds are teased into minutes into hours into days and the steady sound of the heart monitor washes over the pair of them like the ebb and flow of the tide.
Blaine breathes and Kurt waits.
Kurt waits and wishes and waits some more. He makes a wish that bleeds and he dreams of soft kisses and white grace. He’s lost in himself and he makes such poor company and as he thinks and thinks he slowly begins to sink away.
-
“Mr Hummel, can I please talk to you for a moment?”
“Of course.”
“Blaine’s test results have come back, and it’s not good news. As we suspected, Blaine has a condition called herpes simplex encephalitis. The herpes simplex virus, which is present in many people and usually just causes cold sores, has passed through the blood-brain barrier. In short, he’s not good. Even if he does pull through - and there’s a good chance he will now that we’ve caught it early and can treat it - it’s highly likely that he’ll have some kind of brain damage, and we won’t know the extent of that until he wakes up. In the meantime, we’ll be keeping him sedated and upping his dose of the Acyclovir to fight off the infection. I’m very sorry, Mr Hummel.”
Kurt takes a deep breath that shudders in his throat before he collapses into the chair beside the bed.
chapter two