Media: Fic
Title: Solar Winds (Avatar: The Last Airbender Fusion, 21/?)
Rating: PG-13 for innuendo, some swearing.
Spoilers: None for either series that I am aware of.
Warnings: Cursing, innuendo, violence.
Word Count: ~6200
Summary: Kurt Hummel, the current Avatar, finds a Firebending teacher in the young Prince Blaine. Is that all he finds? Or will circumstances conspire to push them into becoming more, to the world and each other?

Author's Note: The first part of this chapter is essentially therapy for myself. There's been a lot of negativity going around the Glee fandom lately (none of you guys, though) and it's really harshing my mellow/making writing difficult. I hope it is at least somewhat enjoyable for you guys as well. I apologize that this took so long to get out.

In other news—PLOOOOT. This chapter is huge for plot purposes. It actually reveals the significance of the freaking title to the story (if you haven't figured it out already). ;)

CHAPTER 21 – Star Man

Blaine groans loudly. Picks his head up off of his pillow, and then flops it back down. Flops his other limbs as well (the ones that aren't restrained by a sling, at least). Sighs again, and repeats the process. It feels like someone filtered out all of his blood and replaced it with… cotton candy or something. It's preferable to the sensation of constant, concentrated agony, but it still feels super weird and vaguely like he needs to keep shaking his limbs to make sure they're still there.

"Are my legs still attached?" he asks aloud.

"Yes, Blaine," Wes sighs. "They were still attached five minutes ago, and they will remain attached five minutes from now. Unless you continue to ask that question, in which case, I might cut them off while you're not looking just to annoy you."

The Prince sits up and uses his non-casted hand to point condemningly at Wes. "You'd better not!"

David snickers in the background. Wes rolls his eyes and continues to read his copy of 'THE FIRE NATION: Blazing a Path Through History.' And Blaine goes right back to groaning and flopping like a lethargic fish, growing slowly more aggressive with his flailing as the effects of the Zaru Leaf really take root. His life is nothing but fuzz. Fuzzy, fuzzy fluffy numbness that makes him itch in places he is pretty sure he does not actually have on his body. He attempts a full-body spasm, just for the sensation.

"Stop that," David deadpans. "Stop this instant. You'll hurt yourself." His voice is as flat as his current girlfriend's chest, and Blaine sort of wishes he could summon the cattiness to tell him this. Instead, all he can do is slur something vaguely accusatory at his traitorous friends who mock his misery.

"You guyssss… suck. I hate you."

"Hate away," David grins at him as he practices calligraphy on Blaine's desk. "You brought this on yourself, as always. After a certain point, I would think the laws of gravity and momentum and their combined effect on your bone structure would be lessons firmly ingrained in your mind. Alas, it is not so. You continue to climb things, and you continue to fall off. And we continue to make fun of you when it happens. Such is life, Little Prince."

That totally rubs Blaine the wrong way. "'m not little!" he slurs.

This time, it's Wesley that starts laughing. "Oh, you poor, deluded spirit," he smiles. "Are you really still in denial?" He looks to David. "My friend, I think it's time we gave him 'the talk.'"

"As much as I hate to admit it, I believe you are right. Blaine, my friend, we cannot allow you to labor under this pretense any longer. Though it truly pains us to tell you this, we… you're… gah, I can't do it, Wesley. Look at his face! He looks so pathetic," David sighs, shaking his head.

Wes scoffs at him. "Courage, man! This is for his own good." At this, the older boy turns to Blaine, who is seriously confused. "Blaine, my friend, this is not easy for me to say, but it's time you faced reality. And the reality is… you're short."

Blaine makes what he is fairly sure is an offended face.

David nods gravely. "It's true. You're tiny."

"Small."

"Miniscule."

"Diminutive."

"Petite!" David cries melodramatically. "I'm so sorry. I wish there were something we could do."

The Prince's cotton-cushioned mind struggles to argue against their conclusion. "Nuh-uh, I'm not… I could maybe still grow s'more," he says with shockingly good enunciation considering his state of inebriation.

Wes simply shakes his head. "You're 14, Blaine. You might get another growth spurt, but it isn't likely, and even then, you've got long way to catch up. I'm afraid you're stuck down there, little Prince."

"Ah, but chin-up, man!" David smiles. "Console yourself with thoughts of all the tight spaces you can fit in that we tall people would never dream of entering."

Blaine just groans even louder and kicks his feet, petulantly throwing his pillow over his head. "Haaaaaaate you guys. Gonna tell dad to hire better friends."

"Please," David scoffs. "You know you love us."

Blaine considers this for a few minutes, after which he decides that they might be right. After all, they are more or less spending their day taking care of him. Although they are basically making a living by doing so, so there's that to take into consideration. But still, there's nothing that says they have to be doing such a good job. They're doing a good job, aren't they?

"I'm thirsty," he says experimentally. Wes and David share a brief look, before Wes closes his book and gets up, picking up the small cup of water next to his bed.

"Sit up," he instructs, and Blaine blearily complies. Wes dutifully lifts the cup to his lips (good, he clearly remembers what happens when Blaine tries to do that while hopped up on Zaru Leaf) and lets him drink until he's done. Not a bad performance, but a little too easy. Maybe he needs to give them something harder. "Done?" Wes asks.

"I need to pee," Blaine says simply.

Wes rolls his eyes. "You are so needy. David! Stop drawing lude pictures, get over here and help me shoulder this burden. Come, Blaine," he says, lifting the semi-delirious Prince up and helping him off the bed, making sure not to jostle his injured arm too badly. The two of them sandwich the boy between them as they walk him down the hall to the bathroom. Their presence is mostly to keep him from wandering off into a side room and getting lost or forgetting why he got up to begin with. Also just in case he suddenly decides he is too tired to walk. Which has happened before, and is, in fact, happening now.

"Whoa, whoa!" Wes shouts, attempting to stand him up as Blaine's legs abruptly fall down on the job. "Come on, Blaine," he says gently. "You're so close! Look, the bathroom is right there!" he points out. Blaine squints in the general direction he is pointing, but all he sees are a bunch of blurry shapes that may or may not be dancing in time with his pulse.

"Don't see it," Blaine says. "You're lying. Liar."

"Keep looking," Wes says, as David joins him in shouldering Blaine down the hall until he can see the door.

"Oh, there it is!" Blaine grins. "It was hiding."

"You would think that as much as he injures himself and gets hopped up on Z-Leaf, he'd have more of a tolerance for it by now," David dryly points out.

Blaine looks over at him and immediately comes up with the perfect counter. "Well, you'd think your face wouldn't be made of spiders, but it is."

"…what?" David asks.

Blaine blearily points at him as he shuffles towards the bathroom. "Your face is made of spiders. That's… not normal. You should… you should get that looked at."

David is left blinking in Blaine's wake as the boy shuts the bathroom door and takes care of business. When he re-emerges from the latrine, Wes moves to his side to support him again.

This, he decides, is sufficient evidence that they are, in fact, quite good friends, and he does, indeed, love them. So he decides to tell them as much. With his good arm, he immediately lurches forward and hugs Wes for all he's worth.

Wes freezes, staring down at Blaine with a mixture of confusion and horror.

"You're right," the Prince sighs. "Love you guys."

David starts snickering. Wes continues to flail at low speeds, searching for a place to put his hands. "Ummm… well, Blaine, I suppose the feeling might not be entirely… unrequited." The older boy sighs. "Oh, fine." At this, Wes allows his hands to come down and squeeze the overly-affectionate Prince, patting him on the back, which just makes Blaine cuddle him even harder.

David starts laughing outright.

"What?" Wes says, slightly defensive. "He's delirious. I'm humoring him. And… he happens to be quite soft."

"Why, you sweet-hearted soul!" David chuckles. "I will never let you live this down," he promises.

"Is that so?" Wes says with a sneaky smile. Suddenly, Blaine finds himself detached from his cuddly human pillow and about-faced. "Think fast!" Wes shouts, launching Blaine towards David, who has no choice but to catch the dizzy boy before he hits the ground.

The results are predictable. Having found a new warm thing to squeeze, Blaine summarily latches onto David instead. David, for his part, reacts roughly the way he would to be hugged by a particularly smelly dog, holding his arms out and averting his face. "Ugh," he grunts. "Get it off me!"

"I'll do no such thing. You deserve this," Wes says imperiously.

"What am I supposed to do?" David asks.

"You could try hugging him back. He likes that."

David growls at Wes. "Damn you," he says, before reluctantly closing his arms and gently hugging the drugged Royal Brat who clings to him.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm almost entirely certain he'll remember none of this," Wes says smugly as they walk back to Blaine's room, the Prince still firmly attached to David and having to be dragged the entire way.

"It doesn't," David sighs. The two of them gently finangle their charge so that he is lying in a comfortable position on the bed. Though Blaine is pliant and still, he isn't quite asleep yet—his body seems to be ahead of his brain in that area. Nevertheless, he can feel himself gently floating out of the world of consciousness on a gentle breeze of opiates. He stays conscious just long enough to hear Wes and David reassume their positions in his room.

"When did I actually start liking him?" David says, disgusted and yet somewhat fond.

"I have no idea," Wes says simply. "But I wouldn't worry too much about it. Really, as far as shrimpy monkey-children go… he's not half-bad."

This time, it's his brain that is ahead of the game, slipping silently into the waking world even as his body lies still in the carriage. The memory is still fresh in his mind, and part of him wants to go back there. But he knows it's a trap. An ambush waiting to happen, lurking in the rafters of his consciousness. A landslide of grief just waiting for him to stand still long enough for it to fall and crush him. He can't let that happen… not here, not yet, not in front of these people. Not in front of Kurt. He can't think about this. Already, he can feel the emotions beginning to bubble and lurch and rise within him like magma on its way to an eruption.

He needs a distraction.

Over the sounds of the road, Blaine can make out Mercedes and Kurt, speaking softly to one another. His entire world becomes a concentrated effort to make out their voices. Eavesdropping is terribly rude…

"…Blaine is not useless," Kurt whispers.

…but so is talking about people behind their back. So, really, he's simply balancing the etiquette books, so to speak.

"I'm not saying it to be mean," Mercedes sighs. "And I did not say he was useless. But even you have to admit that he can't do much right now."

"He's a Firebender," Kurt states simply. "That's a whole other element he adds to our mix. Think of all the things he can help us do! Cooking will be a breeze now. We can start fires even in the soggiest, most miserable environs."

"You're a Firebender, too," Mercedes points out.

"I'm also an Earthbender and a Waterbender, but I still need you and Finn. And Artie, I suppose… besides, I'm not a very good one. I'm still firmly in the ember stage of the learning process. Blaine fans my flames," Kurt says.

"Got that right," the Earthbender adds.

Fantastic. Kurt is depending on Blaine to teach him something that he may or may not even be able to do anymore.

…she's right there in front of him, completely off-guard, and he just loses it. The animal inside of him takes over and he roars as he attempts to reduce her to ashes.

Nothing. Not even a spark.

His fire has abandoned him…

He doesn't exactly envy the Avatar. Defending the presence of a defenseless sack of dead weight can't be terribly easy. But then Kurt makes a fairly decent point.

"…even if he can't do it himself, he can still instruct me."

Kurt's right. Even if Blaine himself is as flammable as a moist log, there's no reason he can't use his knowledge to help Kurt. That's exactly what he'll do. As soon as they get a chance, Blaine will resume Kurt's training. It's a silent promise to himself.

"You don't have to defend him, honey. What'd you think, I was gonna say 'he's dead weight, let's dump him?' I'm just saying—we all have our roles in this little traveling circus. He's the odd one out, and there's not much we can do about that right now," Mercedes says softly.

"Then we'll just have to help him find his role when he's better. He'll have time," Kurt says lightly.

"Honey, have you even bothered to ask him if he wants to come with us?" Mercedes says.

Kurt seems offended. "He needs us, Mercedes."

"And when he doesn't? When he's all better, do you think he'll want to leave his home behind? His people? 'Cause you know we can't stay here anymore. Even if the whole damn country wasn't out to kill us…"

"I know," Kurt sighs. "I just… I haven't really had the chance to think about it."

Neither has he, Blaine realizes. Is there… is there even a place for him in the Fire Nation anymore? Can he leave his entire country in the hands of a madwoman? And if he can't… how can he possibly expect to win it back from her if he can't even fight? If he can't even Firebend?

"I guess we can worry about that later," Mercedes sighs. "I'm sorry, boo, I don't mean to throw dirt on your dessert, but I just don't want you to get your hopes up and have to watch you get crushed again when it doesn't work out like you thought."

Kurt's voice is tight when he speaks again. "Finn was…"

But Mercedes is quick to cut him off. "Let's not talk about that right now. We've got enough new mud to shuffle through to worry about the old stuff."

"Okay," Kurt sighs, sounding almost thankful.

"So, what's the latest gossip from the Spirit World?" she asks, and now it sounds like she's smiling. "Avatar Gaga have anything good to say?"

"As usual, yes and no. She managed somehow to be extremely helpful while clarifying absolutely nothing," Kurt says. "I have to learn the Four Elements and the ways of their people before I can fight the plague."

"She said that?" Mercedes asks, plainly not buying it.

Kurt sounds a little embarrassed when he speaks again. "Well, not in so many words…"

The previous Avatar sits on a rounded rock in the twilight haze of the Spirit World, eying him through her glimmering facemask, her strange, feathery, fantastically impractical outfit sparkling brighter than the world should allow. "The World lays spread before you, Avatar Kurt," she says, her voice low and seductive. She spins around and reclines so that she is laid out on the rock, still facing him. "She waits for you, yearns for you to explore…"

She puts her hands on her hips.

"…her every…"

She runs them down her thighs.

"…inch."

At this, she spreads her legs wide, and Kurt is caught between scandal and sheer horror.

The salacious Avatar greets his expression with a smirk. "With the skills you will acquire from the Four Nations, you will come to understand her more deeply with every passing moment. Your skilled hands will learn to manipulate her form in ways indescribable. Only then, may you cleanse her of the sickness that plagues her so. And she will scream your name in ecstasy."

Kurt can do nothing in response to this but blink.

"Or he," she adds with a wink, "if you prefer."

Blaine is glad they aren't looking at him because he's pretty sure he is blushing quite vividly, and sleeping people generally don't suffer from secondhand embarrassment.

"Wow," Mercedes says.

"Tell me about it," Kurt sighs. "I can't help but love it. Even if it is slightly terrifying. So I suppose we're sticking to the plan, for now."

Blaine imagines Mercedes rolling her eyes. "Any help with the Avatar State?"

"The Avatar State is something I must master in my own way, apparently," he says. "She won't tell me how she did it. She 'will not project her life onto mine.' She did say there are people who can help me, but I have to find them on my own. In the meantime," Kurt says, taking a breath, "I'll just have to keep the lid to my proverbial teapot firmly secured, so I don't blow my stack."

"Well, you got it right on the money. Kind of helpful, but clear as swampwater. Oh well," she says, throwing the topic to the wind for the moment. "Talk to any of the other Avatars?"

At this, Kurt's voice becomes positively devious. "Well… I did manage to learn one particularly juicy bit of gossip."

Karmic punishment for eavesdropping in 3… 2… 1…

"Apparently, my dear friend Blaine is a descendent of Avatar—"

And suddenly, there is a chorus of masculine-yet-girlish screams, and the carriage lurches to a stop, dumping the unsuspecting Blaine into an aching pile of useless limbs on the floor.

"Oh my La," Kurt says, clutching his hand to his chest as he leaps down to the floor to attend to the fallen former Prince. "Blaine, are you alright?"

There's a word. Well, it's kind of a word, but not really… more of a sound, or an utterance, that captures his current condition perfectly.

"OW."

That's the one! Who said that?

Oh, wait, that was him.

Finn shields his eyes from the last vestiges of daylight as he scans the world around him. He squints against the setting sun, desperate for something, anything that can act as his trump card. "Okay, I spy, with my little eye, something that is… orange."

"Everything?" Artie asks tiredly.

Finn takes another look around. With the sun going down like this… "Huh. Good point."

"I already told you," Artie says. "'I Spy' is a terrible game to play on the road. Everything we look at is moving. Most of the time, we just wind up passing everything before anybody guesses it right. We need another game."

"Okay, fine," Finn shrugs. "What do you want to play?"

"Twenty questions?" Artie tries.

The taller boy looks uneasy. "Do I have to think of twenty? I usually get stuck around ten or twelve."

Artie turns to stare at Finn. Months he has been traveling with this guy, and it still amazes him sometimes. "Finn, bro, the whole point is to try and get the answer with as few questions as—"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" someone shrieks. A figure dashes out of the woods, directly into Drizzle's path, who greets this obstruction by grinding to a rather painful halt.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" Finn shouts, startled by the screaming and the sudden appearance of the whoever.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" Artie cries, as Drizzle's sudden stop combined with his own lack of attentiveness (and lack of leg strength) sends him soaring gracelessly out of his seat and to the dirt.

"AAAAAH!" Finn yells, horrified as he watches his best non-Kurt buddy fly like a wingless dragon hawk straight into the ground. He immediately tells Drizzle to halt with the reins and leaps down to help his fallen friend.

"HOLY CRAP!" someone shouts. "I am so sorry, I didn't know…"

"GET BACK, YOU EVIL SCREAMING WOODS-DWELLER!" Finn moves to stand between Artie and the jerk who made him fall, this approaching evil jackhat who looks an awful lot like… "Wait… holy crap. Sam!" Finn cries.

"Finn!" Sam cries right back.

Artie plucks his face up out of the dirt, wearing a sly grin. "Star Man? Are you for real?"

The three of them stare at each other for a few pregnant moments, before erupting in a joyous, unified chorus. "Dude!"

And that's why when Kurt opens the window to yell at his drivers… "If we have not run over an old lady who is at least 65 years old, there is absolutely no excuse for this flagrant abuse of brakes. We are not a mixed drink! The last thing Blaine needs is you two brain trusts turning his internal organs into even more of a puree than they already—"

…he is greeted by the sight of a veritable testosterone explosion, a detonation of unwittingly homoerotic hugging and back-slapping and chest bumping male friendship rituals that can only mean one thing.

"…Sam," Kurt drolls, finally recognizing the distinctive blonde mop and allowing his head to flop just low enough to smack audibly (but not painfully) into the windowsill. "La, give me patience. This is going to be even more painful than I thought."

Mercedes is nice enough to sit with him and gently rub his aching everything while Kurt goes to tear their drivers a couple of new entrance holes and attempt to pour some sense into them. He can't exactly make out what is being said, but it sounds angry.

…well, at first. Then, it sounds exasperated. And then it sounds sarcastic, commanding, and ever-so-slightly exhausted. "…fine, Finn, you can come inside too. Just, all of you shut up! I'm amazed we haven't summoned the entire Fire Nation military with all this shouting… yes, you can—no, put Artie back in the driver's seat first, then come around to the—there you go. Sam, you can put—no don't use the—you're not gonna fit—"

A side door to the carriage opens and a smiling head of blond hair pops in for just a second before suddenly getting caught on something and pitching backwards with an audible flop.

Mercedes and Kurt share a significant glance as the Avatar puts his hand in his sleeve before gently massaging the bridge of his nose. "Give me patience. Give me patience."

A voice comes through the door. "Hey, can I—"

"Put your giant backpack in the front with Artie. It's going to be crowded enough in here without all your… doohickeys taking up space," Kurt orders. There is a short pause, and then the carriage suddenly lurches forward like it wants to tip over.

The other door opens, and Finn hops—literally hops into the carriage looking like someone just promised him a pet dragon for his birthday.

"What happened?" Blaine asks.

Kurt looks uneasy. "We… ran into an old friend."

"Almost ran over one," Finn adds.

The blond from before appears in the other door, managing to make it all the way inside. He's dressed in dirty, travel-worn robes with the sleeves torn off, a small belt of unidentifiable gadgets around his waist. His light blonde hair is held in place by a headband, and he sports a huge grin, made possible by his huge mouth. "Oh, man," he says excitedly. "You guys… you guys have no idea! I was like, at the place, and I saw—you were totally—hey, who's this guy?"

Blaine grins. If he knows anything, it's how to introduce himself. "Blaine Anderson, of the Fire Nation," he says, rising to shake the newcomer's hand.

Said newcomer is very enthusiastic with his handshake. "Awesome!" he smiles. "Sam Evans, of the… uhhh… everywhere, kind of."

Blaine tilts his head slightly, not quite sure what to make of that, but returns the greeting none the less. "Nice to meet you," he says, sitting back down. It is then that he notices Mercedes is eying the other boy with a strange mix of exasperation and fondness… and no small amount of amusement at Kurt's obvious frustration.

The carriage starts to move again as Finn and Sam move to sit on the other side of the carriage. Kurt, slightly annoyed, makes Finn sit on the floor, while he and Sam take the seat.

"Sam is a friend of ours," Kurt says diplomatically. "He used to live up at the North Pole with Finn and I."

"Oh, so you're a Water Tribesman?" Blaine asks.

"Well, not exactly," Sam says. "I was mostly up there with my parents to study the Lights."

"Sam's an astron… an astro… astronaut?" Finn says, turning to his friends for help.

"Astronomer," Mercedes clarifies.

"Star Man!" Artie shouts through the still-open window to the driver's seat, giving a little fist-pump.

"Basically," Kurt says, "he stares at the sky a lot. He and his parents come from a long line of… science people."

"Ah," Blaine nods, not quite sure what to think.

"He and Finn were totally BFFs before he moved away a year or two ago, and we just recently met him again in the Earth Kingdom," Kurt continues.

"Yeah," Sam chimes in. "They totally saved my butt. I got mugged by a bunch of weirdoes, and then they beat me up, and locked me in a basement, and there was this one guy who kept telling me that I had a really pretty mouth, so I think he wanted to watch me eat stuff or something—"

"Okay!" Kurt shouts with a clap of his hands and a slightly panicked look in his eyes. "I think we've all heard enough of that story."

"Dude, man, what's up?" Finn asks with a huge grin. "What brings you all the way down here?"

"Yes, Sam, do tell. Why—for the love of La—are you in the Fire Nation? How do you keep finding us?" Kurt asks, half to Sam, half to the universe at large.

Sam holds up his hands. "Hey, don't look at me!" he says. "You guys just happen to show up everywhere I want to be. I'm here studying Sun Farts!" he announces cheerfully.

Five sets of eyes give him a rather incredible unified nonverbal 'what the fuck?'

"What?" he asks. "You guys have never heard of—oh!" He points to Kurt and Finn. "You guys know what I'm talking about. That's what the Sun Warriors call Spirit Lights."

"The Sun has warriors?" Artie asks.

"The Sun has gas?" Finn queries, looking disgusted.

"How do you know about them?" Blaine asks.

"And why would you want to study something that sounds so disgusting?" Mercedes asks.

"Whoa, whoa!" Sam says. "One question at a time."

"Me first!" Kurt jumps in. "Okay—Sun Warriors. Let's get that out of the way first. Who are they?"

Sam opens his mouth to answer, but the ex-Prince beats him to the punch. "The Sun Warriors were the first Firebenders. They're the ones who first learned the art from the Dragons. But they died out thousands of years ago… what do they have to do with anything?" he asks, turning to Sam.

"Dude," Sam shrugs smugly, "my parents freaking love space, okay? And nobody knew more about space than the Sun Warriors. It's actually kind of freaky how much they knew. Here, I'll show you…" He reaches around behind him, only to discover that his backpack is gone. "Artie! Dude, hand me the thing in the side pocket," he says, sticking his head out the front window.

Shuffling.

"No, the other side pocket."

More shuffling.

"No, dude, not the pocket on the other side, the other pocket on this side. Careful! Don't touch that one! That's where I keep the viper-rat traps. You've gotta—it's the one with the—that's it!"

He reaches out and comes back with a large, rolled-up sheet of parchment that looks like it was etched from a carving of some sort. All sorts of strange symbols decorate the surface, surrounding a large, circular chart that appears to be some sort of calendar.

"…wow," Blaine says, moving in so he can get a closer look at the thing. He isn't exactly sure why he feels compelled to do so—it's not like he can make out anything it says. But still, it's amazing to be in the presence of something so ancient, even if it's a secondhand copy. "What is this?"

"It's a slab of a carving from a Sun Warrior ruin. Well, an etching of a slab of a carving from a Sun Warrior ruin. Actually, it's a copy of an etching of a slab of a carving from—"

"We get the idea," Kurt deadpans.

Blaine is still in awe of the thing. "How did you get it?"

"Dude, would you believe someone sent it to my parents?" Sam says, incredulous. "The Fire Nation Historical Preservation Society or something found it and asked us to translate it. This super-awesome carving from a Sun Warrior ruin, and they just, like, mail it to my folks. But yeah… it's like a calendar, or a chart. It talks about lights in the night sky, during times when the Sun is uneasy."

"You can read Sun Warrior?" Blaine asks, growing more incredulous by the second.

"Dude," Sam grins, nudging him a little. "I told you, my parents are space nuts. I could read Sun Warrior before I could read normal writing."

"Yeah," Finn agrees. "He actually kind of sucks at reading normal writing because of it."

Sam frowns and decks Finn in the shoulder. "Dude, not cool! Nobody needed to know that."

"Sorry," Finn winces. "I didn't know you were sensitive about it."

"Anyway… yeah, this thing has all sorts of info on the Sun Farts—"

"Do we have to keep calling them that?" Mercedes asks. "Are you sure you're reading that right?"

"Look," Sam says, turning the chart towards her. "It says right here. This little squiggly circle-dot thing is basically 'of the Sun.' So 'Sun' or 'Solar.' The one before it, wavy-lines, depending on the context is either 'farts,' 'burps,' or 'bad breath.' And 'Solar Burps' just sounds weird."

"Why don't we just go with 'wind?'" Kurt suggests. "It seems a little more elegant."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Well, if you want to be inaccurate… fine. We'll call them 'Solar Winds.' Anyway," he says again, pointedly trying to finish. "This thing has all sorts of info on them. It's actually kind of a method of figuring out when and where they're going to happen using a series of equations with variables to account for lunar positioning, time of year, shifts in the Earth's gravitational field, the polarity of—"

"Sam, you're deafening us with science," Kurt says evenly. "Get to the point."

"Sorry," he grins sheepishly. "Anyway, you guys saw the lights last night, right? That's why I'm here. I came to look at them and see if the chart was right. It totally was, so not only did I get all kinds of brownie points for confirming that, but I got all sorts of other cool info, too. Like… okay, uhhh, the thing. The thing that always points this way," he says, pointing outwards. "While the Solar Winds were blowing, it totally pointed this way instead!" At this, he shifts his arm wildly, wobbling it in all directions.

It takes a second for them to decode what he's talking about. Kurt is the first to arrive at a conclusion. "You're talking about a compass, right? It wasn't pointing North while this was happening?"

"Nope," Sam says, excited. "It was pointing, like, every other way. And that's just the beginning. Some of my other instruments were doing weird stuff, too. And I'm pretty sure they have some kind of effect on Firebenders too, judging by how everybody went crazy last night."

"You saw all that?" Finn asks, looking slightly traumatized.

"OH YEAH!" Sam shouts, suddenly remembering something. "That's what I was gonna tell you guys. I totally saw you last night!" he grins. "Through my telescope. I was on this big rocky hill outside of town, and I saw Kurt looking for you, so I decided to try and help."

"…you what?" Mercedes asks, something low and dangerous in her voice. Artie suddenly shifts in the driver's seat so that he is looking at Sam. Finn still looks slightly sick, but now he's looking at blond boy as well.

"Yup," Sam continues to grin, oblivious. "I figured I could help him find you, so I got out my flare gun and shot it. I tried to get as close as I could, but all the smoke made it kind of hard to spot you guys after that. Did it help?"

Finn, Artie, and Mercedes share a significant glance, before Finn sighs and gets up from the floor, walking over to Sam. "So, that was you?"

Sam looks up at the taller boy, oblivious to Mercedes approaching him from the front. "Uhh, yeah. I just said that."

The waterbender grimaces. "I was afraid you'd say that. Sorry about this."

Sam looks confused for only a moment before Finn hauls back and punches him in the shoulder. He stands up in shock, which just makes it easier for Mercedes to slam her open palm right into his gut. The barrage of blows is finished by a sizeable rock flying in from outside and pegging Sam in the back of the head, courtesy of Artie.

"Owwwwww," Sam grimaces. "What… what did I…"

"You almost got us killed, fool!" Artie shouts.

"You seriously fucked us over, dude," Finn agrees, reluctantly.

"Do you ever stop to think?" Mercedes asks with her arms crossed.

Sam, for his part, looks genuinely apologetic. "Gosh… I'm sorry, guys. I didn't mean to—"

"Wait," Kurt says, holding his hand up. "Actually, believe it or not, he did help me find you. I might've run right by you guys if it hadn't been for that flare, so…" He pats the battered astronomer gently on the shoulder, as if to try and make up for the beating. "Good job… sort of."

Meanwhile, the cogs in Blaine's brain have been steadily turning for this entire conversation. The gears are grinding, and Blaine doesn't like where they are taking him. Nevertheless, he has to ask… "What did your family do with the translation after you finished?"

Sam shrugs. "We sent it back with the slab. We had copies of it, and it was technically a Fire Nation Historical Artifact anyway."

"So," Blaine continues, not really looking at the young stargazer. "Theoretically, anyone with these translations could figure out when the Solar Winds were going to happen."

"That's the idea," Sam nods.

Blaine takes a calming breath. "Who sent you those?"

"I already told you. The 'Fire Nation Historical Preservation Society'—"

"Okay, I've never heard of them, and I have lived here my entire life. Was there a name? Were there any names listed?" Blaine continues, growing more frustrated by the second.

"I can't really remem… wait," Sam says. "I think… it might have been… S… something. Ssss… Seb Salamander… Scott Scholastic…"

"Sue Sylvester?" Blaine asks.

The astronomer breaks into a huge smile. "That's it! How'd you guess?"

The ex-Prince responds by calmly rising to his feet, moving over to the wall of the carriage, and casually beating his head against it. Over. And over. And over.

"Blaine," Kurt says, appearing suddenly at his back and gently pulling him away from the wall. "What's wrong?"

Blaine turns instead to Sam. "Did it say anything else?"

"I don't remem—"

"Think!" he shouts, and suddenly everyone in (and out) of the cart is staring at him, a little shocked, and more than a little worried. "I need to know!"

"Dude," Sam says, holding up his hands. "I only translated part of it. There was some other stuff on there, yeah, but I only took care of the chart. Why?"

Blaine swallows, unconsciously moving closer to Kurt, who might need to hold him up in the increasingly likely case he collapse. "Don't take this the wrong way," he says thickly. "But I think you might have just helped a psychopath take over an entire country."

A/N: For those of you who might not know, the 'Spirit Lights' are my Avatar!Verse name for the real-world phenomenon known as the Aurora Borealis. Auroras are commonly seen in far northern and southern latitudes, and are caused by 'solar winds,' a term referring to a stream of charged particles that the sun is constantly exuding. During times of increased solar activity, (such as solar flares, which is what 'Sun Farts' probably really refers to), Auroras sometimes increase in frequency and intensity and can be seen more towards the central latitudes. They have been seen as far south as Texas before, and believe it or not, a recent solar flare might actually cause them to be visible in the continental US again this year. Do a Google Image search on 'Aurora Borealis' for some pretty amazing pictures. So now you know! :P