Ok, this chapter is a little nerve-wracking for me. I really hope you enjoy it, and there will be a second update either tonight, or tomorrow; it depends on how much time it takes me to get groceries and make dinner. Thank you SO MUCH for your reviews, they are incredibly helpful and inspiring.
As ever, don't own Glee.
By the time the first beams of sunlight stroked the rooftops of 56th St, Number 127 had reached the stage of hazy delirium. Jitters from over-caffeination gave way to numbing exhaustion as the adrenaline of the night began to wear off. The kitchen became the central hub of activity for those who had been kicked out of Lea's bedroom. Which, overnight, became the boy's bedroom. They agreed it was one of the most comfortable rooms in the house; not only was it easily isolated, kept quiet and warm, but it was also the only bedroom with a couch. Before last night, the couch had never been used, having been inherited from the previous residents, too large and heavy to be moved downstairs. But now, it was repurposed into Lea's bed, complete with sheets, pillows, and a book, ready for use whenever Lea could slow down long enough to take a nap.
"He'll live." Santana announced, checking the kid's vitals. He was buried under a mountain of blankets, the layers progressively growing softer as they got closer to his skin. Under Santana's abrasive supervision, Lea and Mark learned to bandage his deepest wounds, apply ointment to his bruises, and change his IV bags. After nearly two hours in the warm bath, his skin lost its coating of dirt and acquired a healthy, pink tint. Lea determinedly pushed past the paralysis that set in whenever she caught sight of his back and legs – whoever he'd run from left a mark on every inch.
It was a relief to see him cuddled deep into warm mattress, soft curls of dark hair drying against his pillow, and his tortured body obscured by wool, fleece, and down.
"What's next?" Lea asked as she checked the volume on his IV.
"Sleep. Sex. Brittney. I'm thinking simple – ball gag and handcuffs." Setting the blood pressure cuff on the bedside table, Santana pushed off her perch on the bed and started gathering her supplies.
"We've done all we could. So we wait." She mumbled into the depths of her enormous purse. "Keep checking his breathing, keep him warm, and keep him hydrated. When he wakes up, don't let him rip his IV out. Apart from that…I don't know what you were thinking, taking in a sick, abused, runaway sub, but soon you will add 'awake' to that list of adjectives – and with that, comes a whole new layer of shit-storm."
Slinging her bag over her shoulder and tossing her scarf carelessly about her neck, Santana turned to toward their patient, hand resting on the doorknob and a soft look relaxing her features, "It'll be alright. There's no one I'd rather leave Curly Q with. Call me when he wakes."
With that she was gone, along with a thermos full of coffee and milk.
Blaine regained consciousness twice throughout the day. He surfaced to the sensation of soft, silken sheets under his fingertips and napped, wispy wool tickling his neck. When his eyelids fluttered, he was momentarily blinded by white. Sunbeams flooded the windows and streaked the room in surreal light. It was dizzying, and for a moment he couldn't decide just how much he believed it was real. The sheets tickling his body were so crisp they felt cool. The bed was so soft and the blankets so thick, their embrace felt like a loving hug. Concluding that he'd died during the night, Blaine closed his eyes and left himself drift – if this was death, it was far superior to life.
The second time he woke, it was to the scent of snickerdoodle cookies and Earl Grey tea. This time, raindrops beat a steady pattern against dark windows and the walls were bathed in the glow of a lamp. When his heavy head fell to the side, Blaine nuzzled into the soft pillow caressing his cheek. What a beautiful place. Curiosity drove him to blink open his eyes to take in more of this world where beds were warm, and sheets were clean and light was everywhere. The first thing he noticed was a steaming cup resting on a bedside table covered in books. Swirls of hot air dance under the light of a dimly lit lamp. A thick, plush armchair stood askew by his bed, a woven throw draped over its back.
What a beautiful world.
A slow smile settled into his lips. Trying to sink deeper into this heaven, Blaine took a deep breath of Earl Grey and cookies. The warm air tickled his throat and burned through his lungs, promptly sending him into a dizzying coughing-fit. Suddenly, a weight settled into the mattress to his right, a soft hand cupped his cheek and brushed against his forehead. A gentle, cooing voice hushed his coughs and wrapped him in a new layer of warmth. Blaine drifted, relaxed, and sank deeper into the mattress as his heavy body rocked to sleep under the soft guidance of her voice.
Lea sipped the last of her tea when Jordan entered the bedroom.
"I come bearing gifts," she whispered, setting some cookies on a stack of book. "Careful, they're still pretty hot."
Handing Lea a tall glass of milk, Jordan settled her gaze on the boy. It barely looked as if he'd moved in the past sixteen hours, but now his cheeks, which had been pallid and grey, were stained bright red. A ribbon of sweat prickled his brow – it didn't take a doctor to know this boy was deep in the throes of a fever. "How is he?"
"He woke up."
Jordan jerked around at the news, "What! Did he say something? What happened?"
"Nothing, he was coughing. I think he has pneumonia – it was a pretty bad cough, and his temperature keeps rising. I already called Santana for some antibiotics. But I checked his frostbite, and I think he's safe. The skin is turning pink."
The room descended into silence. It hurt to imagine what it would have meant had his skin stayed blue.
Breaking through the melancholy, Jordan nudged Lea's shoulder and nodded to her new make-shift bed, "Are you planning on getting any sleep? You know you're useless to him now."
"Yeah, I'm just waiting to change this IV bag. It shouldn't take much longer – by the time…" she was interrupted by a drowsy yawn. It was suddenly much harder to keep her eyes open, as a second yawn quickly rode the coat-tails of the first one.
"Seriously," leveling Lea with a glare, Jordan handed her a cookie and rose from the bed, "soon, you'll be the one under a glucose drip."
A pinch woke her up. Wincing, Lea rolled her neck but ended up digging it harder into the unforgiving frame of the armrest. Shuffling into a seated position and still uncoordinated from sleep, she flung her hand to the back of her neck in hopes of working out the knots. The movement nearly toppled her off the couch, but she caught herself in time to brace for the fall. The sheet and blanket had twisted so badly in the narrow space, it took her a moment to untangle herself from their grip. This was starting to look like a rather unpleasant morning.
Stumbling to her feet, Lea groggily swiped her phone off its charger and checked the time. It was just passed 7am. Cursing, she glared at the armrest that woke her at this ungodly hour – no wonder that thing had never been used; it has no purpose beyond slow torture. Now that the couch knew exactly what she thought of it, Lea toed at her slippers and prepared to make her way to the kitchen.
The sight on the bed arrested her.
The boy was up. Wake and shaking, he pressed himself into the corner of the bed, head tucked into his knees and bracketed by trembling arms. Rapid breaths, rattling with sickness, alerted her to the state of his pneumonia. His sick glistened with a sheen of sweat. His feet dug into the mattress, pushing his back deeper into the crevice between the wall and the window-sill, as if he could push straight through the wall if he could just try hard enough.
Considering her approach, Lea slowed down long enough to notice the most concerning thing – splotches of red. He had clawed out his IV.
When her foot landed on a squeaky board, his head shot out of his arms and his terrified eyes locked onto Lea's concerned gaze. He jerked, turning into his side, unable to look away but desperate to get away. Fevered amber glowed from below his brows, his wet eyes pleading as his lips trembled around unsteady breaths.
"Please…" he whispered.
The sound of his torn voice, the sight of his wide eyes, they beaconed Lea to his side before her mind decided what to say. What could she say? What comfort could she offer him?
"Please," dropping to her knees by the side of his bed, Lea rested a hand on the very edge of the mattress, curling her fingers useless into the sheet, "please, let me help."
His head shook in spastic quivers as he brought one arm to wrap defensively around his belly, fear clenching his stomach and causing deep cramps. "Please, please, please," whimpering and rocking he repeated the phrase until he felt the bed dip as Lea sat on the edge. "NO! Don't! Please, please, don't!"
"It's alright," Lea cooed, reaching out to him, "you're alright. It's safe now. No one will hurt you. You've done nothing wrong. Please, let me help you. You're bleeding. Please, let me see your arm."
Her hand had inched until it lay about a foot away from the boy's side. He'd tensed, pressed tightly into the wall and squeezed himself into an impenetrable ball, as if bracing for a blow, continuing to murmur and beg.
"I'm Lea." Earnestly, she tried to pull the boy back into his mind. "You're here now. You're safe. And you've been so brave. So strong. Such a good boy."
It stopped. His shivers stopped, and so did his frantic whispering. He seized and stilled for a moment, before slowly unfurling far enough to peek out at Lea from behind his hands.
"That's right. Such a good boy." Lea's face relaxed into a kind, familial smile. "Very good boy. Please, please...let me see your arm. I promise to help."
He considered her from behind a wall of dark curls until, stilted and fitful, his hand crept out of his knotted body.
"Thank you. That's great. What a good boy." Her smile grew until it touched her eyes as Lea slowly reached out until her palm circled around his wrist. The boy's breath caught in his throat, but he did not pull back, and she rewarded him with a light caress. "It's alright. It's stopped bleeding now, but we should clean it up and put something over it, just in case."
Grabbing an alcohol wipe off the table, she gently cleaned the small puncture wound. "It was just a fluid IV with a glucose drip. You were very sick last night. It was supposed to get help you get better. But you are awake now, so we don't need it. Does it hurt?"
She glanced up from her task to see the boy avert his eyes but shake his head. "Well, that's good."
"Mess." His dry voice crackled at the word.
"Sorry, what?"
"Made a mess." Distrustfully, he tugged his clean arm away from Lea and burrowed his head back into his knees.
"It's alright. It's not your fault. I understand, you were scared. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke up. It's my fault that you bled." Settling closer, Lea brought a light hand to the boy's back. Predictably, he tensed, but after a moment, she felt the muscles of his back haltingly relax, as if he were forcing them slack by sheer force of will. "You've done nothing wrong. You're a very good boy."
Just as before, the words had a transformative effect on the boy. Immediately, his body went limp with a deep, shaky breath and he rolled his head onto its side. Clear, amber eyes shone with unshed tears and his lip trembled around some emotion he tried to contain in his furrowed brow.
Swallowing his tears, the boy let his legs fall from his grasp and climbed out of his corner into the middle of the bed. Picking at the weave of a wool blanket, he heaved a faltering sigh before gathering the courage to face Lea head-on.
"I need to pee."
Please, if you have the time and the motivation, leave a review.
Also, to the fangirl who's review I couldn't answer: Thank you! I'm glad that there are no glaring errors - and I am sure there are errors here and there (I've seen them), but at least it's readable.
I have been having a lot of questions about Kurt. He will show up either in next chapter on the one after (SORRY, the 2-4K word est. was actually from before this chapter was posted). There is a reason for keeping him away for so long, and I promise that it will make sense. But there are a couple of storylines that need to be in place before he shows up. Plus, Blaine is an abused sub - introducing him to yet another young Dom at the moment is not the best idea. Once he is there, the story will be centered on Klaine, with a couple of other Glee canon characters coming out from the woodwork. Burt included.