The first thing Kurt thought when he woke up was 'Why do those lights have to be so bright?' as he squinted up at the florescent light fixtures that were hazily defined above him. The second thought he had was that he wished that unrecognized voice that was yelling things like "Can I get a doctor in here?" and "He's waking up!" would be a little more quiet.
'Must be in a hospital,' was Kurt's third thought and he was rather impressed by that deduction, considering why he couldn't remember why he was in the hospital and what had happened just before… glee practice? No, it was telling Mercedes he was gay, his heart pounding in his ribcage, and crying despite efforts not to, then walking out of the school after. Dad took his car, so he wasn't in an accident, not unless someone had hit him as he was walking, but he felt it that were the case he should be hurting more. Maybe he was cornered after school and tossed in the dumpster again. Maybe he hit his head on the edge… that would make sense.
"Kurt," a voice said. He blinked a few times and his vision went from fussy to slightly less fuzzy. A hand was on his shoulder. He shifted his head to the side on his pillow to spy an older man who was mostly bald and in a lab coat and round glasses. "I'm Doctor Stein. I'm going to incline your bed. "
Kurt felt the top half of his bed start to slant upward and even held the mechanical murmur of it. Dr. Stein stopped in a mostly upright position.
"You were in a car accident. Do you remember?"
"No," Kurt said, but it voice was just a croak.
"Here." A plastic cup of water was held out in front of him, but a man, in his mid-, or maybe a well-preserved late-, twenties. He was rather bedraggled looking: his clothes wrinkled; his dark, curly hair a mess on his head; his eyes with bags under them. But that was not what stood out most about him. Rather, it was the intense way he was looking at Kurt, both desperate and hopeful, and so much that Kurt could only look him in the eye for a moment before dropping his gaze.
Kurt reached out with an unsure hand and grasped the cup. His grip felt weak and shaky, but, hey, car accident, right? This young man kept a balancing hold on the cup as Kurt brought it to his lips and took a long sip. Who was this guy, an intern or an orderly or something? Who would let him work looking like he just came off a hangover?
"Thanks," he muttered afterwards.
Dr. Stein had waited for this entire exchange to occur before he continued. "It's very common to lose some time after a head injury. You've been in a coma for two days."
"Oh, Gaga," Kurt said. Kurt saw the might-have-been-drunk last night guy grin from the corner of his eye and he wondered if he was silently laughing at him, that even in a hospital he couldn't be free of bullies, even if they were being quiet about it.
Dr. Stein said he needed to perform a few tests to see how he was, so he ended doing those things were doctors shine lights in your eyes and make you follow their finger with just your eyes.
"Looking good so far. Now I just want to go through a few questions to test your memory… and then a nurse will come in a little while to take your vitals, so—"
Kurt interrupted with something that had been nagging at him. "Where's my dad?"
Dr. Stein glanced, confused, from Kurt to the curly-haired man on the opposite side.
"At home," Curly said.
That hurt, a little, maybe, because he expected his dad would care enough to be here. Perhaps they had sent him home, like they do in movies and TV shows when a loved one in is a hospital and they are wearing themselves ragged waiting for them to get better. Yeah, that sounded more like his dad.
"Aren't you going to call him and tell him I'm awake?" Kurt directed this at Doctor Stein, but yet again he glanced over to Intense Eyes, who said, "As soon as this is over." There something off about this guy's tone. Something he couldn't identify, but was sounding a bit worried and a bit short, and not particularly professional. And why was the doctor deferring to him anyway?
Doctor Stein cleared his thought. "Let's do the questions… So, do you know your full name?"
"Yeah. Kurt Hummel."
Mr. Needs-to-Learn-How-to-Use-an-Iron shifted in his seat.
"Burt and Elizabeth Hummel."
"And to the best of your recollection, what's the date? What's last day you remember?"
Kurt scrunched up his face in thought, and then spoke slowly, tentatively, "October…12th?"' He looked up to see Dr. Stein and, Kurt looked over in confirmation, Random Guy looking generally worried with that answer. "Okay," Kurt snapped, "But at least I know it's 2009."
The guy Kurt still couldn't settle on a good nickname for was looking at him with a mild sort of horror written over his face. Kurt looked up at Dr. Stein, who was scribbling something down on his chart, and asked, "What?"
Dr. Stein stopped writing. He looked his patient in the eye and said, "Kurt, this is going to come as a shock to you, but I want you to try to remain calm. The hospital has many counselors on staff that can help work through this…"
"What?" and his voice when higher than normal, which was saying something, because he was nervous and scared, and he didn't even know what was wrong yet.
"It's not 2009. It's 2019."
A cold sort of dread tickled down his spin. A little laugh escaped his thought. "You're joking, right?"
"I'm sorry. I'm not. I wouldn't joke about this. It looks like a typical case of retrograde amnesia-"
"Oh my God," Kurt said, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling. "When did I start living in a soap opera?"
"He'll be able to get them back, right? He'll get his memories back?"
Kurt decided that he would have to go on calling this guy Intense Eyes, because, yeah, his eyes were intense, except this time they were concentrated on the doctor… and looked kind of devastated. It was the first time Kurt considered that this person wasn't the hospital staff, that maybe he was here for him.
"There's always the chance, especially with amnesia caused by head trauma. It's hard to predict. And if it happens, it's very gradual…"
"Kurt," said Intense Eyes, suddenly ignoring Doctor Stein, and looking right at him with those very hazel eyes of his. "Do you not remember me?"
"What's your name?" Kurt asked, quietly, almost hopeful for both him and this guy that maybe a name would all the trigger he needed.
"Blaine," the guy supplied in just above whisper, his voice almost cracking.
Kurt let that run through him for a moment. Blaine, Blaine, Blaine. It was a nice name, but it didn't mean anything to him.
He shrugged. "Sorry… Are you a friend of mine?"
This Blaine guy looked up at the doctor, but Kurt didn't turn. "I'll leave you two alone," he heard Doctor Stein say. "If you need anything, page a nurse, and they can get me if necessary." Then there was a sound of a door opening and closing. Kurt was still looking at Blaine for an answer.
"Kurt," he said, and he reached across himself from the chair he was perched in with his left hand and took Kurt's left. Kurt looked down at their joined hands and he saw it— the matching platinum rings on both of their index fingers— just a second before Blaine said, "I'm your husband."
Kurt stared at their hands, at the rings.
"It's legal in New York now," Blaine supplied after Kurt's had pervaded a little too long.
That, of all things, made Kurt break out of his trance. He looked instantly up at Blaine. "We're in New York?" he asked, excited. 2019, husbands, Blaine were all things that confusing and new, but New York was tangible, his dream, his ambition, and it was something he could believe it.
Blaine smiled at his reaction. God, he had nice smile, Kurt thought. Then it made his heart skip, because that smile was for him. No one had smiled like that at him before. Well, he supposed Blaine had, but didn't remember any those times.
Blaine disentangled their hands as he stood up. He walked across the small room and opened the venetian blinds on a window. It wasn't some recognizable, iconic skyline. It could have been any major city, but it wasn't Lima outside his window, and that was enough proof.
"Oh." Kurt collapsed back into his pillows and closed his eyes. This was really too much to take in.
"You can ask me anything."
Kurt peaked an eye open to see Blaine leaning on the wall by the window, arms crossed over her waist. There were a million questions to be asked and some Blaine couldn't answer, like 'why is this happening to me?'
"I'll start simple... what's your last name?"
"Anderson," Blaine said, walking back across the room and sliding into his chair. "Though technically, our last name is Hummel hyphen Anderson. I knew something was off when you didn't say that, but I thought you were just still mad at me."
Kurt titled his head in question. Blaine waved a dismissive hand. "Before the accident, we had a tiff. It was petty, all things considered."
Kurt pursed his lips and nodded. Asking what it had been about felt too personal, even if he had been one half of the argument.
"And, um, when did we meet?"
"High school. Your junior year, my sophomore. We were actually members of rival glee clubs—"
"Glee? Gosh, I just joined that. Or, I mean, I just remember joining that. Wow, this is really confusing to talk about."
"Say whatever you need to say," Blaine said. Kurt took a real moment to look at him again. He was so gentle, so nice, and he wasn't running away from this. He was here, and he was holding Kurt's hand again and Kurt didn't even realize he had reached down and took it because it felt so natural. With him, there, this stranger, he think maybe he can deal with this.
He was pretty sure it would all catch up with him tonight when he was trying to sleep. That it would crash in on him and Kurt would feel the miserable impact of losing ten years of his life. That he was with a person that was essentially a stranger. That he didn't know what anything meant anymore or how else the world had changed in those tiny ways you barely notice when you live them because it seems to change so slow.
"I actually should call your dad, and everyone, and tell them you're awake, and what's going on…"
It hit Kurt then. His dad knew. His dad knew he was gay. Kurt was married to a man. Everyone knew. He wasn't sure if it were a relief or a burden. In one way, he didn't have to face all the anxieties of actually coming out, but, in the other way, it was like he had been outed. The Kurt he was, the one who he remembered, and was still a sophomore in high school, hadn't been ready to come out. Perhaps soon, perhaps he was moving towards him. Here, it had been ripped from him.
"I'm not out," Kurt said. Blaine looked up from him from where he had been fishing his cell phone out of his jeans pocket.
"I mean. I don't remember… coming out. I've only told Mercedes and… that was today…or, the last day I remember."
Blaine looked sympathetic. There may have something else mixed into the emotions on his face as well, but Kurt suspected the him that was supposed to be in 2019 would have picked it up, but the him of 2009 just didn't know Blaine well enough.
"Just so you know, you're dad is really cool with it. He's just awesome."
"Yeah?" It was tinged it hopeful and disbelief. Because Kurt always wanted to believe his dad would be that way, would love him no matter what, but his dad was a Midwestern, car-fixing, football-watching, plaid-wearing, small town, lived-here-all-his-life kind of guy, and the images didn't seem to mesh.
He leaned across the edge of the bed and placed a warm hand on Kurt's cheek. "Yeah," Blaine said with one of those grins of his. He was way too close and Kurt had an inkling that Blaine may try to kiss him and he pulled away from the touch.
He looked down at his sheets. He didn't want to see Blaine's reaction, but he could tell from the shift in the shadows that he had sat back down. It was weird, because Kurt knew he should want to be kissed. He did. He wanted to be kissed. And Blaine was there— handsome, sweet, and obviously caring about him.
But he couldn't help but think about all those other things, those unofficial rites of passage he had forgotten, as Blaine quietly dismissed himself to the hallway to make the phone calls. Like his first kiss, his first date, his first time. If he met Blaine his next year in high school, there was a good chance that Blaine was all of those. Blaine remembered, but Kurt didn't. It was another one of those things that felt unbalanced and unfair. The easy sort of intimacy that Blaine was used to with him, the hand holding, touching, kissing,…sex, Kurt didn't… he wasn't…
Kurt wasn't a lot of things except, apparently, a sixteen year old in a twenty-six year old's body… or he could be twenty-five still, no one ever told him the exact. Ten years. He had lost ten years. It was enough to go crazy and fill his head with fluff that made it hard to think, so that the time Blaine was absent from the room passed swift.
"I'm not sure he's ready," Blaine argued into his cell phone when he reentered the room ten minutes later. "Look, Rachel, look…I just called you because I wanted your help to tell everyone else what's— No, Rachel. I don't think you're going to jog his memory…Okay, okay, I give up. Hold on…" Blaine held out his cell towards Kurt. "Rachel Berry is on the phone. She wants to talk to you."
Aki- So, this is my take on a Klaine amnesia story. I have had this idea for ages, but have not had the time to write it. Chapters will always be approximately around this length. Gah, I have so many scenes and things I want to happen. Can't wait.
Only my second Glee story. (I wrote more fanfiction when I was in high school and that was before Glee was around.) The previous one is serious of one chapter story AU's about different ways Kurt could have come out to Burt. Check out my story listings if you are interested. Yes, I am self-promoting.
So, last thing- Feedback? Are you interested? Any ways I could improve?