Paige and Fiyero's Epic Adventure
All Fiyero Anderson wants to do for his thirteenth birthday is go see the great Kurt Hummel-Evans preform. But his father isn't having it. When a runaway finds herself in his room, will he get the gift he's always wanted?
I do not own glee. Only the characters Fiyero and Paige.
Enjoy
Act. 1
That Morning
-The Girl Who Fled and the Boy who Dreamt-
The white lights overhead were way too bright and it bugged her. Everything about the hellhole she was in bugged her. Tapping her foot against the metal leg of the chain, the teenage girl looked around. People were doing their usual jobs: answering ringing phones, talking to other people, trying to convince them to either adopt or consider holding onto whatever kid they were watching out for. Or maybe they were telling them about how the parents they had placed the kids in where going to jail for child neglect and abuse. Or some other bull like that. Something that wouldn't ever happen to her.
It never happened to her.
No one wanted her. She was too much for them, they said. She had a mouth, she didn't have respect.
No shit, she thought to herself. She had been bounced around from foster home to foster home, what was she supposed to do? Bow down at their feet and cry tears of happiness that they were going to keep her? No she wouldn't because they would just kick her right out in a few more months when they either wanted a child of their own or she became a "problem".
The tapping picked up in tempo, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip to repress the anger.
Problem? She was the problem?
She doubted that.
But they always sent her back to this hellhole for that same reason. Always that same reason.
"We can't take her, she's a problem child. She'll be a bad influence on our baby," they'd say or her persona favorite "She's not the right color."
That was the issue.
Her skin color. Her complexion, the pigmentation that casted a shadow of doubt and prejudice in the eyes of her foster families.
"Paige, you still there sweetheart?
She looked up, meeting the concerned eyes of her social worker; her newest one. He was a man of about thirty two, with a long, square shaped face that defined his features. There was still a hint of boyish charm to him and his hair was coiffed and chestnut brown. His eyes were green and she could see the worry swimming in his eyes. He wore a dark blue dress shirt with a horizontal thin stripped tie. A wristwatch rested on his left wrist, and if she had to guess would cost about $245 at the local pawn shop if she could snatch it off without him noticing.
"You say something?" she asked. "I zoned out."
He smiled, it was warm and foreign to her. So many years of fake smiles and disdain were starting to catch up to her. He cleared his throat and spoke again, his tone making her skin crawl at the calmness it carried. "It's alright sweetheart. I asked if you were still with me? I'm pretty sure you didn't hear all I've heard. So I'll repeat it, okay?"
She blinked. Go ahead.
He nodded once. "We're putting you back in the orphanage."
No.
She didn't want to go back there. She hated that place more than she did her foster homes. "I don't want to back."
He nodded, "I know. But it's just for a few days until we've drawn up the paperwork to get you into a new home."
"I don't wanna go to another home either."
"Paige," he tried.
"Look mister, I don't know if you've ever been in the system, and I'm pretty fucking sure you haven't, but it's hell. I hate it here. I hate getting tossed around to people who treat me like shit because of the color of my skin. I'd do better on the streets. I can survive out there."
He looked hurt at her statement. He nodded once and then leaned back in his seat, his fist resting on his chin as he thought. It was like he was analyzing her, the way his eyes moved from her face to her clothes and back to his desk to where her file rested. He breathed in through his nose and then exhaled with a soft sigh, looking at her file.
"You're thirteen," he stated.
"Yup," she drawled.
He nodded. "My godson would be your age today," he muttered, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat and looked at her, but she could see the tears in his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing, "Tell me Paige, have you ever considered being adopted? I could run your file and see where it goes."
"Adoption isn't going to work. I'm a ward of the state or some shit like that."
He laughed. "You're a spitfire," he mused.
She leaned forward, resting her hands on his desk, "Look buddy I'm not getting adopted and I'm not getting placed back in that damn orphanage."
He looked like he wanted to say something but kept his mouth shut. She knew what he was gonna say. "Bu it's the best place for you."
She moved to get up, grabbing her backpack which had all her stuff in it (a few clothes, some food she could eat later, a couple hundred bucks, blankets and a switch knife she kept for protection), and arose from her seat.
"Paige," the social worker called again. She looked back at him. He held out a small business card, a small smile on his face. "Take my card," he told her. "If anything, I'd like to hear from you later on."
She looked at it, skeptic at first. This guy was going out of his way to help her. Unlike the last three bumfucks who had just shipped her off. She nodded and took the card. He nodded with a smile. "I hope you see you around Paige."
She just shrugged and made her way out into the lobby. She noticed a familiar face waiting her in the lobby. Ms. DeMarco was a crazy old bat would still ranted ans raved about how her ex husband left her. If Paige were the ex-husband, she'd leave the crazy woman too.
"Paige," she called walking towards her. "Well this is the fourth time you've been back."
"Can it," Paige told her. "Look before we get this show on the road, I need to pee. So lay off it Terri."
She opened her mouth to speak but Paige had already booked it towards the bathrooms. She shut the door behind her and went into a stall, leaning her head against the door. She fished into her pocket and pulled out the card.
Sebastian Crawford-Smythe
Social Worker for Wayward Youths Child Services
His number, both his cell and work phone were in the bottom left corner, as well as the company's address and other meaningless shit. She turned the card over and found a small note.
If I could, I'd adopt you kiddo. My husband would like you just as much as I do.
Here's my home phone. Call anytime. If its Brit answering, that's my husband Adam. Hope to hear from you soon.
She placed the card back in her pocket, a feeling swelling in her chest. She opened the door and walked over to the sink. Her hands wrapped around the rim and she stared into the mirror, looking at her own reflection.
She could go back with Crazy Lady and deal with the other kids before getting tossed back into another home. Or she could go with her original plan: live on the streets for a bit.
"Tick tock Bennett," she muttered to herself. "Time is wasting."
At nine-forty-seven in the morning, Blaine Anderson did not expect to wake up to a cheerful boy currently working himself ragged at the stove. The kitchen smelt wonderful and he could see the stack of French toast, the four poached eggs and various fruits and whole grain crepes his son was currently finishing up as he continued his task at hand.
What was he up to? The thirty-two year old man wondered as he stepped into the kitchen. The boy hasn't even noticed he was there until the boy had turned around, a plate of crepes and a smaller plate of bacon in both his hands. He gasped softly, almost falling off the stool and dropping the items on his plate. He straightened up, smiling at his father and set the food on the table.
"Good morning father," he greeted with a smile.
"Good morning my little songbird," Blaine returned, ruffling his son's hair. The child blushed despite himself.
"Father, please. I'm too old for that."
Blaine raised an eye. "Oh?"
The boy nodded, a smile on his face. "Well as of today I am." Blaine nodded his head, wanting him to continue. "Oh! Well it's my birthday, father. I'm turning thirteen today."
Blaine frowned. Thirteen years already? He schooled his features and patted his son's cheek softly, "No that can't be. Your birthday was last year."
"Birthdays are an annual thing, father."
Blaine nodded once, "Ah well, happy birthday my little songbird."
The boy smiled, his blue eyes bright. He bit his lower lip, hoping for his father to ask the right question. "So," he began. "There's something that I really want for my birthday."
"Oh and what would that be?" Blaine asked as he sat down at the table and took a crepe, placing it on his table. He decorated it with fruit and some cottage cheese before taking three stripes of bacon. He stared at his son. "Well Fiyero, I'm waiting."
"Oh well," Fiyero straightened his back as he stared his father in the eyes. "As you know, this year on this day I'm turning thirteen and well, I was wondering if you'd let me go to this concert tonight cause it's really important to me and well I...um...well..."
"Fiyero," Blaine said with a sigh. "Spit it out."
"Can I please, please, please go to special concert that Kurt Hummel is putting on tonight?" the blonde asked.
Blaine almost dropped the fork that held some of the crepe, his mouth hanging opening. He wrapped his lips around the utensil and took to chewing it slowly, trying think of a good excuse. Any good reason as to why he wasn't going to let his son out of the house at all today. He swallowed, wiped his mouth and stared into his son's eyes as he spoke. "I'm sorry, who?"
"Kurt Hummel, he's this really amazing singer father. His voice is like an angel-so bright and warm and just heavenly and-oh please can I go?" Fiyero asked, rushing over and giving his father those deep blue-grey hues that made Blaine's heart melt and tighten at the same time.
It hurt him, he realized. It hurt him that he would have to crush his pretty little spirits. "I'm sorry my little songbird, but you can't. I have to come up with a wonderful idea for your birthday dinner tonight. Something special for just the two of us."
The brightness of Fiyero's eyes dimmed but he didn't falter. "Father I know you want to do something wonderful for me, but please, can't it be a lunch instead? I've been wanting to see him for years now, ever since I first heard him sing on the radio. He sounds to beautiful father all I want to do is see it for myself. Oh please?"
Blaine shook his head. "No, my mind is made up. You can't go."
Fiyero gave a sigh. "Father please."
"Even with the begging, Fiyero!" Blaine snapped, feeling his patience slipping. "You're not going out tonight at all! You're going to stay here until I get back and then we are going to spend your birthday, here like we do every year."
Fiyero's eyes lost their shine and he sank back. "Yes father."
Blaine sighed and stood up from the table, walked over to his son and hugged him. "I'm not trying to hurt you, my little one, I really am not. It's just...the world is a very cruel place and you're just to bright and warm. I don't want you to be come corrupted by that darkness. Especially since you're very special," he paused and cupped his son's cheeks. "I'll think of something special for us to do tonight and to make up for the concert, I'll sing for you myself. Is that alright?"
Fiyero nodded, though his heart wasn't fully in it. "Of course father. I'd like that very much."
Blaine kissed the crown of his head. 'I love you."
"I love you more," his son responded with a small smile.
"I love you most, my little songbird." Blaine said and then moved away. "Go to your room, Fiyero. I'll bring you breakfast and then I have to be off. I thank you for making breakfast so early."
The young blonde nodded and headed towards his room. "Oh and Fiyero," he turned at the sound of his head. "Happy Birthday."
Fiyero gave a small smile and continued towards his room. He opened the door, stepped inside and then closed it. He walked over to his bed and fell face first onto the bed and gave a small groan.
All he wanted was to see his favorite singer. He had heard how awe-inspiring Kurt Hummel was when he first heard him sing from Wicked. He had seen only some pictures of him in his youth but never any of him now. He shut his eyes, humming under his breath the lyrics to Defying Gravity.
He jolted awake to the sound of a loud thud.
"Ow that hurt," a young female voice sounded from the side of his bed towards his window. He turned, eyes falling on a petite girl about his age. Her dark curly hair was hidden by a hoodie, her brown eyes meeting his blue ones. He blushed at how cute she looked with her slight scowl before a soft panic entered her eyes when she registered him.
"Hello," he smiled.
"Hi," she replied, feeling awkward. "Um...so..."
"Fiyero!" called his father. The preteen scampered off of his bed and grabbed the girl's wrist. If he father found her there was no telling what he would do. He rushed over to his closet, shoved her inside and told her to be quiet with a finger to his lips. She nodded and watched as he closed the door and headed over to his room door. He opened with a small smile.
"Yes father?"
"I'm heading off to the market. I'll see you later, alright. I've got a special dinner planned for you." Blaine smiled.
"Of course," Fiyero smiled. "I'll be here when you get back."
Blaine nodded, planted a kiss on his forehead and then left without a word. Fiyero heard the dead bolt lock and knew his father was going to make sure he didn't leave. He was pretty sure his dad was walking towards the elevator and would be heading out onto the street soon.
"He just turned to the corner," the girl said and he jumped, turning around to see her peeking out his window. She turned and met his gaze. "So...I need to introduce myself and probably explain why I'm here."
Fiyero nodded, his arms crossing over his chest. "That would be nice."
The girl smiled. "Right," she said and Fiyero blushed despite himself at how cute she was. "I'm Paige and I'm currently hiding out in your apartment from the foster care system. I'm basically a run away and don't worry, I won't steal anything."
Fiyero smiled and watched as she blushed when her stomach growled. "Are you hungry?"
She nodded.
"Come with me, I'm pretty sure my father hasn't put up the food."
Paige frowned. "I'm a total stranger and you're letting me eat your food? Why haven't you called the cops yet?"
Fiyero paused and scratched the back of his head, "I...you don't seem like a thief or anyone bad. I mean, why would anyone want to think of you as a bad person when you're very lovely."
Paige blushed again. "Ahem, well thank you."
"You're welcome," Fiyero smiled and then held out his hand, a bright grin on his face. "I'm Fiyero, Fiyero Anderson."
"Paige Bennett," she replied, shaking his head. The blonde smiled and then turned, tugging her by her hand and down towards the kitchen, his heart hammering against his chest the whole way.
Once in the kitchen and having fed her, the two sat at the kitchen table. Paige looked anywhere but his face.
"Why are you running?" Fiyero asked.
"Just...I don't like the system okay? It's a load of bullshit." Paige told him. "So why were you moping? You looked like you had just be denied a trip to Disneyland."
"I've been there," Fiyero said. "But the reason why I'm upset is because my father won't let me go see this concert in Central Park tonight."
"You mean that gig Kurt Hummel-Evans is putting on?" Paige asked, Fiyero nodded and Paige sighed, drawing his attention. "You know what, blondie, I'm gonna help you out."
"How?"
Paige gave a grin. "You're what, thirteen?"
"Today I am," Fiyero said.
Paige nodded. "Happy Birthday blondie. Now, as I was saying, you're thirteen so that means it's time for a little teenaged rebellion."
"What?" Fiyero looked appalled. "I can't!"
"Yes you can," Paige grinned and shot up. "I mean, sure it might crush your dad's spirit and make him feel like he can never trust you again but you'll have gotten what you wanted. Which is?" she turned and looked at him.
"Crush and damage my relationship with my father?" asked a suddenly pale Fiyero.
"No," Paige told him, rolling her eyes. "You'll have gotten to see Kurt Hummel-Evans live in concert, on your birthday. And I'll be your guide, cause I doubt you've ever set foot out of this place."
Fiyero nodded, "Not once."
"Wow," Paige sighed.
"Um how did you get in here anyway?" Fiyero asked.
"I picked the lock leading into this place and just chose a random window to crawl through," Paige said bluntly. "Now come on, Blondie."
Fiyero watched as she walked back to his room. He bit his lip. Should he do it? Could he do it, damage his relationship with his father like this? All for a selfish need to go to a concert. It was a once and a lifetime thing and Fiyero would give anything to see it. He shut his eyes.
"It's time to trust my instincts. Close my eyes," he paused and sat up. "And leap."
"Blondie!" called Paige.
Fiyero followed her voice to his bedroom and found her climbing out the window. He moved to grab a backpack, filling it with a jacket, some cash and the flyer that had the directions to Central Park, along with his ipod. He slung it over his shoulder and climbed out the window.