Sorry this took so long. There were exams, and after exams there was beer and somewhere in the middle of that I got a trampoline.

I'm sorry.

:(


"Now, first things first," Carole began, "Blaine, honey, what would you like for breakfast?"

Blaine started, straightening his posture slightly.

"I will eat whatever my keepers choose to feed me, Mrs. Carole."

"But what do you like, honey?"

"I like food, Mrs. Carole." Blaine's voice came out steady, but it was soft and quiet. His cheek had taken on a noticeable flush and Burt watched as Carole quickly removed her hand from his shoulder. At the loss of contact the boy's breath hitched slightly causing the muscles in his neck to twitch. The twitch caused Burt to remember what Markus had told him at the home about how skittish Blaine was around new people. Clearing his throat, he tried to remove some of the attention from the clearly overwhelmed boy.

"Hey, Kurt, why don't you go get some of those clothes you put out for Blaine and we can see if any of them fit. Finn, d'you mind going through the closet and seeing if you can rustle up a pair of your old shoes so he can wear them until we get him some decent ones?"

Finn grinned widely and nodded before attempting to bound out of the kitchen before he was stopped by Kurt.

"You're kidding, right?" Kurt snorted lightly when his question was met by a blank stare from Finn. Turning to face his father, he continued, "Do you really think that Finn's shoes are going to fit Blaine? No offence, but Blaine's quite a bit smaller than him and, though I admit I haven't taken the time to blatantly stare at his feet, I'm going to assume that the burlap sacks Finn refers to as shoes will not fit on Blaine's normal human-sized feet."

Finn frowned and stretched out his leg, planting his foot with a loud thud beside Blaine's. Squinting heavily he alternated glances from foot to foot for a few moments before looking at Burt.

"I think Kurt's right. But in my defence," he turned to Blaine, "you have like, really tiny feet."

"He's a growing boy, Finn," Carole scolded as she swatted her son's arm.

"But it's true! They're like, hobbit sized," Finn looked back at Blaine, "but you're kind of smaller-ish too, so it's okay 'cause it doesn't make you look weird or anything, just smaller. Than me. And Kurt. And Rachel." Carole swatted him again, earning her a pout from Finn.

"Regardless," Burt cut in before Carole could scold Finn again, "I know they'll be a little big, but it's gonna be better than anything that Carole, Kurt, or I could come up with. And before you go on saying anything," Burt turned and raised a pointed finger at Kurt, who had already opened his mouth in protest, "if you can find anything that Blaine doesn't have to strap, lace, or glue himself into be my guest, but until then, Finn's shoes will have to do.

"Now scram, both of you. This kitchen's pretty small as it is and if we all keep trying to move in it no one's ever gonna get anywhere, alright?" Looking at both of his boys he hoped that they would get the hint and give Blaine some room to breathe.

Kurt pursed his lips as he shot a look towards his father.

"I accept your challenge," he said before grabbing Finn by the sleeve and dragging him down the hallway.

They could hear the muffled sound of voices coming in from Finn's room, but the kitchen itself had fallen into an uncomfortable silence that was broken by the sound of a toaster.

"Do you like toast, Blaine?" Burt fought a smile at Carole's question. At some point when he was speaking she had grabbed the bag of bread from the counter and had put in two slices.

"Yes, Mrs. Carole," Blaine replied, his one eye darting between Carole and the bread she was now smearing in strawberry jam. Smiling, she placed the slice on a plate and held it out to Blaine. The boy looked at Burt as if waiting for permission. At Burt's subtle nod Blaine reached out with a tentative hand to grab at the bread. Picking it carefully he cupped it in both hands before backing slowly into the corner beside the garbage can. He knelt down and adjusted his thin nightgown-like shirt into a makeshift plate.

"No, no, Blaine," Carole started, walking towards the boy. Blaine's body stiffened instantly and within a moment he had his forehead pressed to the ground in a bow. Both his arms were outstretched fully and the piece of bread again was cupped in both hands, raised slightly as an offering to Carole. The woman instantly crouched beside the boy and began to rub her hand lightly in small circles across his back.

"It's alright, honey," she whispered softly as she shifted her own body so that her face was near level with his, "it's okay, you're okay, sweetheart. I just thought you might be more comfortable at the table, what do you think about that?"

Blaine angled his head towards Carole in acknowledgement, though he couldn't see her.

"Would my keeper prefer me to eat at the table," he asked in his quiet voice as Carole continued to rub his back.

"You might be more comfortable there, sweetie, but if you don't want to move you don't have to. If you'd rather stay right here that's perfectly fine, alright?"

The boy began to drag his arms closer to his body. Using his forearms as leverage he pushed himself into a kneeling position, though he still kept his body at a lower level than Carole's. Twisting himself he held the bread out to Carole again.

"I'm sorry I misbehaved, Mrs. Carole."

Carole's hand moved swiftly from his back to gently ghost across the masked side of his face, settling in his hair and stroking his matted curls softly.

"You didn't do a single thing wrong, Blaine, you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm the one who should be apologizing to you." Blaine eye flashed disbelief but Carole continued. "I'm sorry I startled you, Blaine. You did nothing wrong, and I'm sorry that I made you feel that way. Now, would you like to sit at the table, or would you rather stay here?"

Blaine's mouth opened, but no words came out. Burt figured it was the closest thing to gaping at her that Blaine could manage. He partially opened and closed his mouth a few more times before he lowered his head to the ground and hesitantly asked,

"May I move to the table, Mrs. Carole?" She smiled at him.

"Of course you may, Blaine."

"Am I to sit by Mr. Burt?"

"You can if you want to."

Blaine sat up slightly but waited for Carole to fully stand before he followed suit. The boy shuffled forward towards the table, eyeing Burt warily as he moved closer. Carole had already pulled out a chair for Blaine, but the boy had moved to the other side of the table. He came to a stop beside Burt's chair where he knelt again beside the man.

"Thank you for letting me sit at the table, Mrs. Carole, Mr. Burt."

Carole looked at Burt helplessly.

"You're welcome, kid, but you know you can sit on a chair too, if you want." The boy remained silent beside Burt, who shrugged at his wife. Blaine's stomach growled loudly, but the boy made no move to eat his food.

"Honey, go ahead and eat," Carole urged quietly. Blaine glanced from her to Burt before shifting the bread in his hands.

"Thank you, Mrs. Carole." Taking a small bite Blaine began to chew slowly. A gurgling sound came from deep within his throat as he swallowed the food.

"You okay, Blaine?" Burt placed his hand on the boy's back, causing him to tense.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Burt," Blaine apologized, "I was not expecting sweet, sir."

"The jam?" Carole asked, heading to the cupboard, "If you don't like it we can get you something else."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Carole. I didn't mean to complain, I just hadn't expected sweet." Blaine went to take another bite, but from the way his mouth twitched as he chewed it was clear that he wasn't enjoying the food.

"Haven't you had jam before," Burt asked in confusion. The boy shook his head. "Well what do you eat?"

"At the Home we ate porridge and bananas in the morning, and rice and chicken for supper. At my previous keeper's I ate what was left over from their supper, sir."

"Here," Carole said as she walked back towards the table with multiple jars, a spoon, and the other piece of toast in her hand. After setting them down on the table she reached out her hand and waited for Blaine to hand her his breakfast, which he did with only minor hesitation. Grabbing one of the jars and the spoon, Carole knelt down beside Blaine and removed the lid, dipping the end of the spoon into the jar.

"Have you tried honey before, Blaine?"

"No, Mrs. Carole." The woman smiled as she held the spoon out to him.

"Here, try this, okay?"

Instead of taking the spoon, the boy leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the edge. Sucking lightly he slid his mouth from the spoon, carefully tasting the honey as instructed.

"What do you think, Blaine," Carole asked, eyeing him carefully.

"It tastes warm, Mrs. Carole." She smiled and put the lid back on the jar.

"It's still quite sweet though, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mrs. Carole."

Burt stood quietly as Carole continued to get Blaine to try the different spreads. The boy had instantly began to fuss as Carole went to use the same spoon in another jar, but at Carole's assurance that it didn't matter since Finn had already been caught dipping his fingers several times, he quieted down.

As Blaine tasted different types of jams, butter, and margarine, Burt went to the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk, apple, and orange juice. Pouring a little into three separate glasses he put the cartons away and filled a fourth glass with water. Opening the cupboard again he removed the bottle of Tylenol from the previous day and shook two pills into his hand. With practiced skill Burt curled his index finger around both pills before using both hands to pick up the four cups. Setting them down on the table beside the jars he looked over to see Carole grinning at him as Blaine again had his mouth around the spoon, a look of pure bliss on his face.

"I take it you like peanut butter," Burt said, jolting the boy from the spoon.

"Yes sir, Mr. Burt." Blaine's cheek reddened as Carole stood up, taking everything but the peanut butter from the counter. As she put away the jars Burt struggled to sit in her previous spot on the floor. The first thing he grabbed was the water and pills.

"Now, I want you to be honest with me Blaine, okay?" The boy nodded with a quiet 'yes sir'. "How does your face feel today?" He leaned forward, trying to catch Blaine's eye.

"It stings a little, sir."

"And by a little, what do you mean? Does it sting all the time, or when you move it?" The boy hesitated before answering.

"It stings when it touches my mask, sir." He dipped his head as he spoke, avoiding Burt's gaze.

"If it's hurting you, is it okay if we take it off?" As much as Burt knew that his question was logical to ask, he couldn't help but feel that he had asked it to satisfy his own morbid curiosity on finding out what was under the mask.

The boy had gone quiet, and Burt was about to withdraw his question when he nodded. Leaning forward Blaine brought his forehead to his knees, allowing Burt access to the back of the mask. Carefully as he could, Burt put down the water and pills before reaching towards the back of Blaine's head. His hair was again damp from sweat and had become matted from sleeping in the bed. Burt had to fight through the mass of curls to find the small velcro strip. He pulled at it gently, trying not to catch it in Blaine's hair. Once the sides were free he pulled it from the boy's face, jumping slightly as he felt the mask rip as it came free from where it had been stuck on his skin.

"I'm so sorry –" Burt started, but stopped as he looked at Blaine. It looked as though the entire layer of skin on the right side of the boy's face had been burned off, leaving it raw and pink and speckled with hundreds of dots of red. The smooth edges were tinged in an angry ring of orange and white. Near his jawline the burn thinned out and was delicately scabbing. In the light his face seemed to shine as if it was wet, and the red spotting had increased where the mask had been ripped off.

Looking to his closed eye Burt could see that it was a slightly darker shade of red and, contrast to the rest of his face, it looked dry. With a jolt, Burt realized that his eye wasn't closed, but missing altogether. Where the boy's eye should have been was an empty socket.

"That's a few weeks along, isn't it?" Carole smiled as she knelt beside Burt.

"Nineteen days, Mrs. Carole."

"It's healing nicely, you're doing a good job taking care of it."

"Thank you, Mrs. Carole."

"Maybe after you take your painkillers we can go down to the hospital for a quick checkup and see about getting you a glass eye, what do you think about that?" While Carole was speaking Burt had picked up the pills and water from beside him on the floor and was now holding them out to Blaine.

"But make sure you take them with the water, okay? It makes it a bit easier to swallow them."

"Thank you, Mrs. Carole. Thank you, Mr. Burt." Blaine took the pills and then the water from Burt. After he had finished the glass of water both Carole and Burt stood. Burt took the empty glass while Carole returned to the counter and began spreading peanut butter across the remaining slice of toast.

Burt handed Blaine the glass of milk and told him to try it. As the boy sipped the different liquids Burt tried not to stare at his eye. He was glad that Carole had offered to take him to the hospital, seeing the empty socket had left him feeling a little queasy, and maybe she would be able to get him some painkillers stronger than Tylenol.

Carole walked back to Blaine and handed him the bread on the plate, making sure that he took both.

"And if and when you want to, you're always allowed to come and sit on a chair at the table with us." She rubbed his shoulder lightly before taking her own seat on the opposite side of Burt. Picking up his newspaper Burt distracted himself from watching the young boy currently licking the small trace of peanut butter that had been caught on his thumb before continuing to eat his bread in small, careful bites. Every once in a while Blaine would make soft noises as he enjoyed his meal, and as he even allowed himself the smallest lopsided grin, Burt doubted that he even realized he was making the sounds. When Blaine was finished Carole slid another slice onto his plate. The boy looked absolutely elated. His half grin faltered, however, when he saw Carole pick up the previously rejected slice with jam and take a bite of it herself.

"I'm sorry I fussed with my food, Mrs. Carole. My keepers shouldn't be eating my leftovers," he stared at the toast on the plate in front of him, "I don't deserve treats."

"I like jam, Blaine. And no one's making me eat anything I don't want to, just like we won't make you eat anything you don't like. If you want to eat nothing but peanut butter all day that's allowed. It's not a treat, Blaine. It's your breakfast. And you can always have as much of it as you want."

He still looked uncertain, but as Carole went back to eating, so did he. It wasn't a victory on anyone's part, but it was a small step in the right direction, and to Burt and Carole it counted for something.


BALLS I'M SORRY.

This took an incredibly long time to write, and I'm not going to bore you with why, but to sum it up I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to start this chapter. Like, at all. I went through about a dozen different beginnings that led me to dead ends, so that never happened. I feel much shame, and I am really going to try to make sure that doesn't happen again. I DO have a plan for this story, and once I get through these next two-ish chapters it should be smooth sailing, but this is sounding like excuses to me so I'm going to stop this now.

One-Eyed Lady: Thank you, I was worried that the name thing would be kind of cheesy, and I'm glad it didn't come off that way. I'm trying to get Kurt to take him shopping, but I think they'll have to get him an eye first. I tried really hard to make it Burt's perspective just for you, but I think Carole was upset that I ignored her for so long. Imagine how Kurt's gonna be…

Samantha-Lawrence: First off thank you :D! And second, oh man, I'm a little worried about the kind of author-insight I've given through my notes. I re-read a few of them and I sound absolutely cray-cray (but hey, aren't we all?)

Klaine Fearella: !#NamesAreWonderful :D

Hiki-nii: Thank you! Kurt absolutely terrifies me so I'm glad I got it kind of okay. I'm going to try to get another one up by the end of this week so that maybe the guilty bunnies will leave me.

Panda-hime: I think this may be going a little fast but screw it. I love you too. I'm so happy that you get my sense of humor. You have no idea how serious I was about actually going through with that. My author's notes are ridiculous and I fully acknowledge that, but I am pleased that they make you laugh!

RinzlerIsTron123: Oooh you should definitely post some stuff! It'll give me something to read while I procrastinate writing this!

Blainescrys: ThHhHHhAaaAAnNnNkKK YyyOooOUUuUU! (ps I wrote that in whale). But seriously, thanks. I love reading angst, but there's such a fine line as to what's good angst and what isn't, and I'm trying to write it on the kind of things I like to read, so I hope it's working. D:

ANONS!

Randomchild: DON'T DIE D: plz.

and Wild Phoenix: Thank you both! As far as Klaine goes, I'm really on the fence. With this kind of situation I find that when they establish a romantic relationship too fast I lose interest, so it's going to be some hardcore friendship first and I'll see how it goes from there. I really (obviously) don't like rushing things, so this'll probably take some time - just a warning to all you Klainers. Sorry
As for New Directions, I like torturing Blaine, and I've been toying with that idea for a while. My stories never really go as planned, but at the very least he'll meet the ND kids!

Kate: I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry and THANK YOU!

Yes, thank you all oh so very much, and again I apologize for the delay.

"IT SHALL NOT HAPPEN AGAIN!" (she declares loudly as she runs to the corner to hide)

D}:

:{D