A Hero's Hero

A/N: I'm feeling Nightbird-y. It's a thing. Really.This story (which I've completed, btw) ended up being a tad long for a one-shot, so I've separated it into three chapters.I will update quickly, I promise, but if you see a delay, it will just be because FF and I sometimes have issues when it comes to posting new chapters.I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1: Late-night Discovery

Working the late shift at the Spotlight Diner wasn't Kurt's idea of a fun thing to do on a Saturday night. He'd agreed to cover for Rachel while she took a quick trip back to Lima to deal with some family business with her dads. Even if he didn't have a fantastic social life right now – or a social life at all, for that matter – he would have preferred staying home and enjoying the rare privilege of having the loft to himself rather than working his tail off and walking home from the subway at two o'clock in the morning.

Just walk fast and keep your eyes open for trouble, he thought to himself as he quickly strode down the street. About two blocks from his building, he passed an alleyway. Instinctively, he glanced down the alley as he walked by, mostly to make sure there wasn't someone about to jump out and murder him. He quickly returned to looking straight ahead and took a few more steps before stopping dead in his tracks as his brain caught up with his eyes. Had he just seen…? No. It couldn't be.

Hesitating momentarily, he sighed heavily and turned around. I'm gonna regret this, he thought, while fleeting images of disaster crossed his mind. He halted at the corner, gathered his courage, and carefully peeked around the corner of the brick building.

The light from the streetlamp across the street offered precious little illumination in the alley, but just enough to allow Kurt to see what had caught his eye when he'd passed. There was a lump of something in the middle of the alley – a dark lump with a small patch of white that reflected the light. Kurt could feel his heart beginning to pound uncomfortably as he looked around and listened. He could see no one and heard nothing out of the ordinary. With another deep breath, he pulled out his cell phone and clicked the screen a few times to turn on the flashlight app. He turned the bright beam towards the object in question. Maybe it was just a bag of trash, but he didn't think so. He knew if he just walked away, his curiosity would drive him mad so, against all rational judgement, and after looking around once more, he began walking carefully towards the object.

When he was no more than three feet away, and trying desperately not to picture scenes from the few horror movies he'd seen, a low groan pierced the silence. Kurt's breath caught in his throat (possibly accompanied by an undignified squeak that he refused to acknowledge) as his eyes widened. The lump moved ever so slightly and groaned again.

"Oh, my god," Kurt exclaimed. Fear was replaced by concern as he rushed into action. He hurried over and knelt down, putting his cell phone on the ground, flashlight up. He was able to make out a head of dark, slicked back hair and a gloved hand lying next to it. The rest of the man's body (based on the hair and the groan, he'd determined the lump was a man) was draped in some kind of fabric – a blanket, perhaps? No, it looked too thin for that. A cloak of some sort?

Not having time to worry about fashion choices, Kurt reached out a hand and rested it on the man's shoulder. "Hey," he said softly. "Um, hey there…" What was one supposed to say to a stranger lying in an alley, anyway? "Sir? Can you hear me? Are you all right?"

He was met with another stifled groan as the man shifted once again, trying to lift himself up but only succeeding in rising about two inches before dropping back to the pavement. Kurt moved to the man's other side, hoping to get a better look at the situation and try to help the man as best he could. He brought his phone around to try to illuminate the man's face, but gasped in surprise at what he saw.

The man was wearing a black mask over the upper portion of his face. A mask? What in the world? Kurt thought before it hit him. The mask. The cloak, no, cape. Picking up his cell phone, he shone the light onto the cape and saw the well-known symbol of a black bird in flight silhouetted against a full moon. He looked back to the man's face as he whispered, "Nightbird."

Holy crap. The man lying in front of him was none other than Nightbird, the nocturnal avenger (as the local papers called him). He'd been making headlines for months – a superhero who had emerged from nowhere, who seemed to make it his business to rescue those in need. No one knew who he was or had any information about him, as he tended to disappear before any questions could be asked. He was an instant legend. He was beloved.

He was here, and he was hurt.

Shaking off his moment of being star-struck, Kurt returned his focus to the man before him. Resting a hand on his shoulder, he tried speaking to him again. "Hello? Can you hear me? I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help."

xoxoxo

Blaine suddenly inhaled sharply and his eyelids fluttered as though he were waking up from a dream. Slowly his eyes opened and he tried to focus. Instinctually, he pressed against the ground in an attempt to move, but he only hissed in pain, squeezing his eyes shut again.

"Easy there, easy." He heard a soft voice nearby. He felt a gentle hand on his back. This definitely wasn't the same guy who had left him in this alley after surprising him with a blow from behind. The details were fuzzy, but he remembered arriving in time to save a woman who was being mugged in an alley. He'd told her to run to safety, which she had done, and had been about to apprehend the criminal when something went wrong. The man had slipped from his grip and somehow gotten behind Blaine before hitting him with something very heavy. Hard. He remembered hitting the ground before losing consciousness.

He struggled to clear the cobwebs in his brain and focus on the voice speaking to him once more.

"I'm going to turn you on your side, okay? Just take it easy." He felt the hand leave his back, and suddenly two hands were on him, one at the shoulder, one near his hip, as a light pressure rolled him onto his side. A pain shot across his back and shoulder, but it felt better to not have his chest pressed to the pavement.

"Can you open your eyes for me?" the voice spoke again, and he felt something brush against his forehead and slide down to his cheek, just below the edge of his mask. He realized it was that same gentle hand, lightly stroking his cheek now in an attempt to bring him back to consciousness. With no small amount of effort, he forced his eyes open, blinking at the small bright light that seemed to be coming from a phone on the ground.

"Oh, sorry about that," the voice said, and he heard a shuffling sound before the light went out. He blinked a few more times and was able to keep his eyes open now that the blinding beam was gone.

In the darkness of the alley, he made out the figure of a man, slender and fair, kneeling beside him. He couldn't see much detail, but from what he could see, he looked quite handsome and not at all threatening. The man smiled and said, "There you are."

Blaine realized that this man, this stranger, was still caressing his cheek with his thumb. Blaine shifted and began to reach his gloved hand up towards his face when the stranger seemed to realize what he was doing and abruptly stopped, pulling his hand away with a quick, "Oh, my god, I'm sorry." He sounded rather embarrassed.

"That's okay," Blaine croaked out, coughing a little and, he noted curiously, missing the touch almost instantly. Looking back up as he tried once more to rise, he said, "Who are you?"

xoxoxo

"My name is Kurt, whoa, easy there," Kurt said, interrupting himself mid-introduction to help the man in front of him sit up when his arm started to give out beneath him. He got him into a seated position and stilled for a moment to ensure he was steady before starting again.

"My name is Kurt. Kurt Hummel."

He waited again for the man to acknowledge him. He had no idea how injured or coherent he was, and he didn't want to overwhelm him with information. Memories of his own past brushes with violence were fresh enough to remember how confusing things could seem when one first came to afterwards.

The masked man rubbed the back of his head and winced before looking up again at Kurt. "Hi, Kurt," he said, his voice a little stronger than before. "Are you okay?" he asked as he looked around the alley as though he expected to see someone else around.

"What?" Kurt asked incredulously. Here was a man who had obviously been attacked, and he was asking Kurt about his welfare. "Me? I'm fine. I was just walking by and I saw you lying here." He noted that the man still looked concerned about his surroundings. He reached out a hand and rested it on his arm, saying, "It's okay. There's no one else here. You're safe."

"Safe?" Blaine scoffed. "I don't care about being safe. I just can't believe that guy got away from me. I can't let him just get away. I have to…" He tried to stand and Kurt was swiftly beside him to catch him as he swayed.

"Okay, cowboy," Kurt muttered. "That's it. I'm calling an ambulance."

"No!" Blaine shouted, startling Kurt. "No ambulance. No police. I'm fine, really."

"You're clearly not fine," he huffed in exasperation. "You're in pain, I think you hit your head, and if it wasn't for me holding you up right now, you'd be back to snuggling the asphalt, mister."

He watched the man look down and seem to notice with surprise the arm wrapped around his waist. He tried to pull away, but the arm just tightened around him. "Uh-uh," Kurt admonished. "I can feel your legs shaking, and I'm really too tired to pick you up if you fall down."

Kurt almost couldn't believe the way he was talking to Nightbird, the hero of the city. It reminded him of the way he used to talk to his dad when he'd been ill. He'd been all sass and in control then – it was the only way he knew how to deal with his crippling fear. Now, in over his head again, it was like muscle memory: Take charge, do what needs to be done, don't take no for an answer.

He pulled his phone from his pocket where he'd stowed it after turning off the flashlight. He was about to dial 911 when a gloved hand covered his.

"Please, no," the man pleaded, quietly and earnestly. Kurt turned his head towards the superhero. His arm was still around his waist, supporting him, so their faces were close. Even in the dim light, he could see the desperation in the eyes beneath the mask. They locked eyes for a moment, and Kurt broke his own rule by giving in with a sigh.

"Fine, but I can't exactly put you on the subway back to wherever you came from, now can I. So what do you suggest?"