Mike just stood there for a moment, feeling useless and helpless, forgetting for a moment to keep his composure and think straight. His heart hurt watching Blaine break down and hearing him start to cry like this. Mike knew exactly what had to be happening. Just because they plucked Blaine out of the scenario back home to bring him to the island, didn't mean that he left any of the memories or his experience back there. It had all come with him, and now he was awake from resting, it was setting in that he had just witnessed his husband be shot and die in his arms. Mike felt sick, but he had to give himself an internal smack to kick himself into gear here.

He hurried up to the side of the bed and rested his hand on Blaine's shoulder. "Blaine, buddy... listen to me. Yes, you saw Kurt get bad hurt. The worst kind. You had him with you, and he was really badly hurt. But I promise you, he's here. He's just a few doors away, and I'm going to go get him for you. I promise, I'm going to bring him here for you right now, so just hang on for a few more minutes, buddy. Puck's going to get you a drink of water and some Kleenex, and I'm going to get Kurt. You just need to trust me on this. I'm going to be right back, and Kurt will be here for you, Blaine. I promise," she said, his voice dropping to a choked whisper when he nearly started to cry himself.

Then he just backed up and spun around, bolting out of the bungalow and up the beach as far as he could. The sand burnt his bare feet, but he didn't care. He was soon pounding on the door of Kurt and Quinn's bungalow. "QUINN! KURT! OPEN UP! YOU'VE GOT TO OPEN! IT'S URGENT!" he shouted desperately. "QUINN! PLEASE! PLEASE OPEN UP!"