This will be a really long author's note because I have so much to explain. This takes place right after the last chapter of Little Earthquakes. We see more of New Directions, and I introduce an OC because Lima doesn't have a police officer character (Santana doesn't legally count) so I figured I'd make one! Pearl and Anna are characters from an original fantasy novel I wrote and am still looking for a publisher for. As they are characters from a fantasy novel, they'll do a couple things that won't make sense, but Blaine and Kurt will be too wrapped up in each other to notice, so you probably will be too.
Disclaimer: I don't own "Law and Order" (Samantha Silver and Ezra Lowenstein), "CSI: New York" (Aidan Burn and DJ Pratt), or "Glee" (everyone else except Anna Yu and Pearl Rush). As characters from other shows come up, I'll point them out, but only once since I really don't want to end up with a disclaimer longer than the actual chapter. I also don't own the song "Girl," once again by Tori Amos.
"From the shadow, she calls.
And in the shadow, she finds a way.
And in the shadow, she crawls."
Chapter I: Girl
Saved by the bell? More like "saved by the clock." Blaine was glad he got away with answering Kurt's question. No one in his right mind would want to see the scars Blaine were hiding underneath his clothes.
Unfortunately, the topic was once again broached during breakfast.
"So, Blaine, why do you always keep the lights off when we have sex?" Kurt asked, swallowing daintily before speaking.
Blaine, however, could never be so graceful. He nearly choked on his pancakes, and when he finally stopped coughing, he was too busy thinking up a lie to realize that his stack of pancakes was half-gone. "Mood lighting," he said finally. Or maybe he said "Moon Libya," his mouth was so full.
Kurt laughed, and Blaine once again prematurely thanked his lucky stars (and maybe cursed them a little too) that his boyfriend didn't seem to care.
Pearl sometimes wondered what life would be like if her sister had never run off with the Tully boy, leaving her alone with her schizophrenic mother and neglectful father. She wondered what her life would be like if her parents had stayed in New York, where they might have eventually forgiven Calanthe for her Vegas wedding instead of dying in 9/11. Well, only her father had died, but her mother had disappeared, so she might as well have. Regardless, what she wondered most of all was what would have happened if she had never been adopted by two members from her former (and maybe current) gang. Samantha Silver had been sexually abused by her father when her mother was declared an unfit parent by the state. Ezra Lowenstein's father had abused his wife, who in turn took her anger out on Ezra. Pearl's parents had treated her the way their parents treated them. Samantha would regularly enter the shower or bed when Pearl was in it, and Ezra's last name should have been "Lightning;" it would have described his fists. Pearl had lived with them during the worst year of her life, which was still not quite as bad as what she was seeing on the x-ray screen.
"So, you managed to put together in 36 hours what thirteen doctors, nine pediatricians, and eight hospitals haven't managed to put together in three years," Anna said when she walked into the hospital room.
Pearl didn't look at her, choosing instead to focus on the x-rays. "That's because those thirteen doctors, nine pediatricians, and eight hospitals didn't have all the information in the same place," she said.
"The FBI really does watch us," Anna smiled from the doorway until Pearl waved the psychotherapist to a chair she had brought inside the room.
Taking out a manila folder, the agent flipped to a particular page. "Parents are getting smarter nowadays. Dr. Swan noticed when I was coming to her so often for a broken ribs, black eyes, fractured limbs, malnutrition, and stuff like that. But when you visit one doctor for a few months, then another, then another, they each assume that you're going through a clumsy phase and it doesn't raise any red flags."
"And we haven't even gotten to the sexual abuse yet," Anna looked sad.
"Okay, guys," Will clapped once, "it's the first week of school, so why don't we take it easy. We're going to do a duets project, and it's going to be about heroes."
Brittany raised her hand.
"Yes, Brittany," Will stifled a sigh.
"I don't know any good songs about sandwiches."
"No, Brittany, we're not singing about sandwiches. We're singing about idols," Kurt explained without stifling a sigh.
"So we have to fall a lot?" Brittany asked.
The class collectively groaned. This was going to be a very difficult assignment. So much for starting the year off easy.
"What excuse did the parents use the last time?" Anna asked.
"They said that he was playing with the fan, trying to get a piece off for a toy plane, when he fell and landed on a potato on the table," Pearl said. "They claimed that the potato went up his ass, and that caused the tearing. I'm paraphrasing, of course."
Anna snorted. "The doctor believed that shit?"
Pearl shrugged. "Ezra got away telling people that I got my spiral fracture trying to get something off the top of the garage door."
Anna sighed and shook her head at the injustice of it all. "Wealthy people don't want to think that their neighbors could do something like this. They think only those who live in the projects could possibly be so cruel. And in projects, people are too busy earning money to keep their heads above water to pay attention to their neighbors." She looked up at Pearl sharply. "People abused as children are more likely to abuse their own children."
"Unless the hospital has something to tell me," Pearl said testily, "I can't have children and Aidan Burn wasn't a mother."
Anna nodded, backing off the subject. "You know," she added softly, "it's not good for a detective to be so emotionally involved."
"I'm not emotionally involved! I've met the boys once!" Pearl snapped.
"You were sexually and physically abused, you were raped, you were bullied, you're lesbian, and you're…well, kind of like me. I just want to make sure that you're not taking the Anderson case the wrong way," Anna refused to back off.
"I'm not lesbian, I'm pansexual. I was never bullied, and believe me, I'm nothing like you. As far as the abuse went, well, I have CIPA," Pearl said, turning away.
"That doesn't take away the pain of knowing that your parents wanted to inflict it upon you," Anna said softly. "You don't have to pretend like your life was perfect just because you're rich. That's probably Blaine's excuse too."
Pearl turned to face Anna, determination blazing in her eyes. "I'm not the victim here, not this time."
Anna smiled. "Aidan was a lucky woman to have had you."
Pearl didn't smile back. "I was a lucky woman to have had Aidan. She's spoiled me for other people. I mean, the only other person I've married was a serial killer."
Switching the topic, Pearl smiled—or maybe grimaced—at Anna. "Now, if only New York could adopt the death penalty already," she said, half jokingly, half wistfully. "DJ Pratt could die and I could start being happy."
"While I wait for you to realize that seeing the man who killed your wife die will not make you happy," Anna began, "I'm going to focus on the case ahead of us. We're going to have to fight both victim and perpetrator to get justice."
"Times like these make me glad I'm friends with the girlfriend of the Chief of Police," Pearl smiled at Anna, who was in fact dating Paul Gallego.
They fell into an amicable silence, looking through x-rays, flipping through charts, and if Pearl noticed how many calls from Paul that Anna was ignoring, she didn't comment on it.
"Alright, guys," Kurt rolled his eyes. He swore Mr. Schuester was a broken record. "We're going to practice 'Born This Way' one more time."
"I'm on the right track baby, I was born this way!" Kurt sang to the supposedly empty auditorium. He looked around at his friends, who were quickly becoming his family, and sighed in near contentment. He was extremely glad to be back, but…he sighed again, less than happy. He missed Blaine more than even the Rachel-esque diva in him expected. The older boy had been soothing even before he had been romantic, and while McKinley was fun, Kurt missed having his rock around.
Unfortunately, the day didn't get any easier for Kurt after class. This year, Mercedes had very few classes with him, and Kurt found himself walking to AP French 3 alone, as he didn't doubt that Puck and Finn wouldn't even know what French was. That was why, when he felt the hand on his shoulder, he jumped. He also immediately relaxed, because it was only Blaine.
"Sorry it took me so long," Blaine smiled the smile that always got Kurt's heart jumping. "I couldn't find a parking spot."
Kurt frowned. "But hardly anyone here drives their car…" he trailed off as a thought struck him, and turned to peer out the window. He cursed.
Blaine chuckled. "Kurt Hummel, swearing? This is a day for the history books."
Kurt shot him a dirty look, and replied, "Some ignoramus painted 'FAG' over half the parking lot."
Blaine stopped smiling. "I know," he said. "I saw."
Kurt swallowed, taking out his phone.
"Who are you calling?" Blaine asked suddenly.
"Agent Rush. This should be reported somewhere, and she was so nice on Saturday," Kurt answered.
Blaine suddenly felt uneasy. "Wait, what happened on Saturday?"
Kurt frowned, remembering the questions Pearl asked. "She came by, said she had a case nearby."
Blaine relaxed, satisfied that his secret was safe for now. "Your performance was amazing, Kurt," Blaine's voice was wistful. "You…I'm sorry the Warblers never gave you a chance to shine. When you were on that stage, it was like there was no one else on there."
"I don't need the Warblers to shine," Kurt blushed. "I just need you. That's the reason I was shining onstage. But why are you here on a Thursday?"
"I missed you too much," Blaine laughed.
"I threatened to beat him with my gavel if he didn't take his melodramatic sighing somewhere else," Wes added.
"I thought I was keeping that to myself," Blaine muttered.
Wes laughed uproariously, and Blaine pouted.
Kurt laughed too, touched that Blaine was actually pining over him. "Come on," Kurt linked arms with his boyfriend. "I'll show you something that might cheer you up." He dragged Blaine to his locker.
Blaine blinked at the magazine cutout letters that spelled COURAGE right underneath a framed copy of Blaine's yearbook picture.
"Wow, Kurt," Blaine swallowed. "When you asked for a picture, I didn't expect it to be for this."
"I had it at my Dalton locker too," Kurt said, a little self-conscious.
"Kurt, I have to say this," Blaine began, but Kurt never got to hear what Blaine had to say, because Karofsky and Azimio came by that very second, for once not wearing their varsity jackets, and the latter shoved Blaine hard into a set of lockers. Blaine and Karofsky froze when they saw each other in street clothes.
"It's you!" they both whispered. Azimio looked between Karofsky and Blaine and started to laugh. Blaine froze for a few seconds, utterly terrified. Those few seconds were all Azimio and Karofsky needed to pick up Kurt and carry him kicking and screaming to the dumpsters. The thud of the lid slamming over him reverberated in Blaine's very bones. The jocks walked by him, Karofsky slamming into Blaine shoulder so hard, he nearly knocked the boy over.
"I'll deal with you later, you little pussy," Karofsky whispered in the short boy's ear. Blaine began to shake, pale, but he opened his eyes and composed himself quickly after the football meatheads high-fived each other and walked away. He struggled to look over the edge of the dumpster.
"Kurt, are you okay?" his heart broke at the sight of his boyfriend crying. "Kurt?"
"I'm not okay. My life is over!" Kurt wailed. Sam and Mercedes walked over to check out the commotion. "This sweater took me two months to save up for!" he sniffed as Blaine pulled him out. He snuck a look at Blaine to see the smile he was sure would be on the shorter boy's face, but instead found a stern grimace. "Blaine, what's wrong?" Kurt thought about Anna and Pearl's words. Was there something Blaine needed to say?
"How often does this happen?" Blaine asked, ignoring Kurt's question altogether.
"What did you do to my boy?" Mercedes Jones could be more fearsome than Santana sometimes, and Blaine turned comically pale.
"He didn't do anything, Mercedes," Kurt spoke up in defense of his boy. "Karofsky and Azimio were worried I've forgotten the finer points of dumpster diving."
Something in Blaine's eyes worried Kurt. "So, they've done this before?"
Kurt shrugged uncomfortably. "No. I don't know what's wrong with them today."
"This happens to Kurt almost every day," Mercedes interrupted. "Don't let that innocent face fool you."
Kurt glared at Mercedes, so he couldn't stop Blaine from running after the football players.
"Hey, you look at me when I'm talking to you!" Blaine yelled.
"I thought you homos were gone for good," Azimio cracked his knuckles.
"I thought you bullies were gone for good," Blaine wished Santana were here. As much as he hated the idea of hurting someone else, he hated the idea of Kurt getting hurt much more. However, it looked like that was what would have to happen, since neither of them were within sight.
"What?" Azimio's face was derisive, Karofsky's terrifying.
"Don't you dare touch my boyfriend again, ever, or you will regret it," Blaine said through gritted teeth.
Karofsky's fist came out of nowhere, and Blaine felt a sharp, burning pain across his face. He knew from the whistling sound when he breathed that it was broken.
"DON'T!" Kurt ran forward, and Karofsky's hand curled into a fist again.
CIPA stands for congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis, or the inability to feel even extreme heat, cold, and pain, or any nerve-related sensations (like the need to use the bathroom), and the inability to sweat. Most children born with this nervous disorder (and congenital means "from birth") rarely live past age 3, and those who survive childhood rarely live past 25, because babies don't understand that fire is hot, snow is cold, and the inability to sweat (the body's way of cooling itself) puts a person at risk of literally frying herself to death. Also, CIPA puts a person at extreme risk of injury because she won't know that she's injured, which can make the injury worse.
And if you're wondering, Wes stayed in the gym and was interrogated by Rachel.
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