A.N. I'm sorry, but I couldn't stay away! Glad you guys are enjoying it so far, but it is only getting started. This fic has a bunch of new subscribers which is AWESOME, it makes me feel very happy to know that folk would like to read more. Your kind words have motivated me to write pieces of upcoming chapters early so it's likely there won't be long pauses between updates but I don't want to speak too soon!

For those interested, this may be the last we see of Santana for a while or perhaps altogether. My interest is mainly on Kurt and Blaine but annoyingly to further some plot points we need a little outside help. I've changed some names and I'll be using some fan-creative-license haha! Also, to answer the question of Blaine's background yes I will be sort of sticking to the original background but tweaking points to fit a male villain. Hope it works...

Mr Brown Examined

Santana Lopez sat back in her chair and slid her golden brown legs up on top of her desk. She admired her most recent purchase - black snake skin heels - as she listened to the dial tone from her telephone. For someone who made and took over a hundred calls a day from this desk, she was anxious. Of course, she didn't look like it; she needed to look just as vicious and dangerous as she usually did. It was nearly noon and office interns were likely to charge in at any moment with quivering questions dribbling from their lips:

'Can I get you a bagel, Ma'am?'

'I'm going down to the mail-room, Miss, would you like me to take anything?'

'Would you like to come to my birthday party this Saturday, Ms. Lopez?'

Ugh, she scrunched up her nose in disgust. Each response would be toeing the line between firing them on the spot and tearing them a new hole where they could keep their bagel-mail-room-whatever invitation. If it weren't a legal form of cheap labour, she would have stomped down hard on the idea of 'interns' years ago. Last month one had been so mentally disturbed that she thought she could use her boss' first name during a casual one to one. Santana had her manhandled out the building and instructed the security guard to place one of the woman's desk belongings out on the front step every hour, on the hour. She had listened in satisfaction as the ex-employee screamed colourful and inspirational profanities from the street below. When the woman - who had been sitting outside for a couple of hours by this point - stopped screaming due to her hoarse voice, Santana took the elevator back up to her floor with a smug click of her heels. That was the Santana Lopez she needed to be right now in case one intern walked in and saw her with her guard down.

Kurt was normally very punctual when it came to checking in with her but as he was her weak spot she was deliberately 'forgetting' his lateness. It wasn't vital he check in, despite it being the custom. She'd have given him a couple of extra weeks. However, when Burt Hummel called her that morning just as she arrived in her office, she was confronted with a dilemma: no one had heard from Kurt all week. From her personal calender, Santana had his departure from Silver Creek Lodge set for five days ago. A quick call to the lodge itself confirmed Burt Hummel's statement that Kurt had indeed checked out on the date she predicted. Taking into consideration that Kurt had last told his father he would be driving back to L.A. on the completion of his new book, that meant he should have arrived home three days ago. And yet, no one had seen or heard from him since he walked out of the lodge.

It was now time to calmly prod those mountain dwellers.

'Hello?' She said after hearing a snipping sound cut off the ring tone.

'Yes, ma'am, how may I help you?'

'My name is Santana Lopez calling from New York City.' She paused to frown as the male on the other end of the line gave a long, low whistle. She cleared her throat and continued, 'I'd like to speak to the Silver Creek Chief of Police or the Sheriff.'

'Well, which one do you want?'

Santana gave a short shake of her head, her long hair whipping the back of the seat. She tried to hold the sharpness from her words. 'Whichever one's not busy.' She replied through gritted teeth and held her head in her free hand as the receiver beeped a few times during her transfer. Honestly, those who can't, manage phone lines.

Sixty-three year old Archie Baker hitched up his pants as he stood and stepped up by the windows. His eyes gazed across the ever-present scenery of snow and mountaintops from and his bushy moustache twitched up a little to scratch an itch. Humming, he put his phone to his other ear. As the call connected, he chuckled at the unmistakable sound of a woman tutting. 'Good morning,' He greeted cheerfully. 'I hear you're looking for the Sheriff or Chief of Police - you're lucks in; they're both free. Understandable, you see, as they're both me. I also happen to be President of the Policeman's Benefit Association, Chairman of the Patrolman's Retirement Fund, and if you need a good fishing guide, you could do a lot worse; call me Archie, what can I do for you?'

The woman on the other end seemed to be pacing, or at least that's what it sounded like. Heels on a hard floor. Despite the woman's professional and cool tone, Archie could tell she was hesitant and insecure. It was a sixth sense of his, developed through his many years in the force. 'I'm a literary agent - Santana Lopez - and...and I feel like a fool calling you, but I think one of my clients, Kurt Hummel, might be in some kind of trouble.'

Archie squinted his eyes and scrunched his nose as he thought. 'Kurt Hummel? You mean Kurt Hummel the writer?' The woman answered positively. 'He's your client, huh?'

'Yes, he is.' Ms Lopez confirmed.

Rolling a penny across the back of his hand, knuckles rising and falling expertly, Archie sits back at his desk. It was ridden with crossword puzzles and unimportant paperwork. 'People sure like those Darcy Brown books.' He hummed. 'My daughter can't get enough of them.'

Santana Lopez started talking so soon after he finished that she very nearly interrupted him. 'I'm sure, then, you're aware that Kurt has been going up to the Silver Creek Lodge for years to finish his books.'

'Mmm-hmm,' Archie nodded. He was very much aware of it. His daughter always threatened to go up there when Mr Hummel was next visiting in order to have her first editions signed, much to his dismay. Not that he didn't respect the young man's accomplishments - not at all! Archie was not one who had any issues with the homosexual romance as long as he wasn't personally forced to read it. In fact, the one time he did read a few pages he had been quite impressed and toyed with the idea of casually bumping into the author himself when he heard he was back in town. But he was the Chief of Police - the Sheriff - and it wouldn't do at all to have his men teasing him for being a 'fan boy'. Not at his age... There wasn't much to do up in these parts so they'de have plenty of opportunities to hone their mocking skills. He coughed. ' Been up there the last six weeks, I understand.'

'Not quite,' Ms Lopez sighed. 'I just called; he checked out five days ago. It's strange because he is quite the daddy's boy and his father hasn't heard from him. Neither have I, and he has a book coming out very soon. He normally keeps in touch. So now that there's no word from him...'

'You think he might be missing?' Archie finished for her. The woman stuttered slightly and sounded more embarrassed now that she had voiced her fears. Archie knew not to dismiss them, though. His wife walked into the office carrying a tea tray. She arched a brow at hearing his side of the conversation but remained respectfully quiet.

The literary agent's voice wavered and it sounded like she might be rubbing at her face. 'I hate that I made this call,' she admitted, her guard having fallen more. 'Tell me I'm being silly.'

Archie smiled. Ms Lopez must be in her twenties: she sometimes sounded exactly like his daughter. He shook his head and kindly said 'Just a little over-protective, maybe.' He paused, then slipped a pen from his shirt pocket and took a wad of post-it notes. He wrote out the author's name, followed by a date and a question mark. 'Tell you what, nothing's been reported here but I'll put his name through my system-' He put the note up on his bulletin board - his 'system', 'And if anything turns up, I'll call you right away.'

'Thank you,' Ms Lopez responded, genuinely sounding relieved and a great deal more human than the start of the call. 'I appreciate that.'

After hearing her husband issue a goodbye and hang up the phone, Virginia Baker smiled, her delightfully soft skin wrinkling. 'We actually got a phone call - gosh, what a busy morning!'

'Oh, it's been all go, here. Work - work - work.' He replied in a similar humorous manner before turning out to look at the crystal-white mountains. When he spoke again, his voice was gruff. 'Virginia, when did that blizzard hit?'

'Oh, I don't know...' His wife bustled around the desk, tidying as she went. 'About four - five days ago. Why?'

Archie bit the inside of his cheek and his greying eyes clouded over in thought. 'No reason.'

'So...' Kurt circled his bowl of soup with his spoon. His eyes flickered from the moist cut-up pieces of potato to the young man fixing the curtains by his window. 'You're a doctor?' He meant for it to sound like a statement but it came out as more of a question. Blaine gave a confirming sound, before continuing to hum a tune Kurt did not recognise. It didn't sound like it was a song from the last few decades. 'Don't take this the wrong way but...you look a little young to be a doctor.'

Blaine finally set the material just right so that both sides of the curtains matched perfectly, and he turned back round to face his patient. 'Oh yeah?' His smile was just so...constant. 'And how old do you think I am?'

Kurt shrugged and shook his head a little. 'Twenty three, twenty four-'

'I'm twenty seven.' Blaine broke in, his eyes laughing. 'Older than you.' With that he sat by Kurt's side and lifted the spoon and bowl from him. He then scooped up some of the soup and brought it towards Kurt's lips.

'Yeah, but surely you can't be a full doctor,' Kurt managed out before the spoon was sliding into his mouth. 'I mean...' He swallowed. 'It takes years. Then you have to go through residency and internships-'

'Done and done.' Blaine uttered lightly. He offered another spoonful. 'I left my last practice last year. Too much going on in my life, I had to get away for a while. That's why I'm up here. It's peaceful.' Kurt watched him carefully but Blaine seemed genuinely relaxed and comfortable. He even brushed back Kurt's hair, which he had never done before and Kurt noticed very much. 'My parents were both doctors and when my older brother showed no signs of following in their footsteps they set their sole sights on me. Medical school was a breeze after spending my teenage years surrounded by grad-school textbooks and having my parents lecture me every spare moment they had.'

'Sounds awful.' Kurt responded truthfully.

He wondered if he had said something wrong when Blaine stopped gathering up the last of the soup onto the spoon. The older man's brows furrowed and then he lightly shook his head. 'No, it was...surprisingly alright.' He said at last. He seemed to decide against feeding Kurt any more, as he placed the bowl on the bedside table and shuffled forward to wipe Kurt's mouth with a napkin. Kurt lifted his slightly stronger arm to take the napkin from him - he wasn't completely useless, after all - but Blaine resisted. 'I got you.' He murmured. Kurt just avoided eye contact as his already clean face was petted a little more. After a minute, Blaine gathered up the white napkin and bowl and put them on a food tray. He then started his inspection on Kurt's bruising, followed by his temperature and then finally his pulse. 'Stronger, much stronger.' He commended him. Kurt flushed, happy with himself. Awkwardness aside, he was glad to have someone there to confirm his beliefs that he was indeed improving. 'Anyway, please relax because you are in good hands with me. I know what I'm doing. Now, open-' When Blaine leaned back up after collecting two new orange pills, his grin widened when he saw Kurt's mouth already open for him. 'up.' He finished anyway. Kurt looked blankly and took the pills with just one sip of water. He wondered why Blaine was staring at him like that, with his smile and his...his eyes, watching like they knew something he didn't.

Lying back in his bed, Kurt listened to a tap running. Blaine was rinsing the dishes somewhere down the hall. He was still humming some strange song which, the more Kurt thought about it, sounded like it belonged to a 1920s radio. Speaking of which, Kurt made a mental note to request some form of music player or maybe even a television set. His eyes hurt when he tried to read any more than twenty pages of any book in Blaine's library and with his sleeping patterns becoming more normal he was in desperate need of entertainment. He would have to put this across in a polite way, of course, as he didn't want Blaine to feel obligated to hang around him more than he already did. Again, a guilty voice in his head berated him. Blaine saved him and was now feeding and tending to his every need - Kurt should be thrilled for his very existence! Still driven by guilt, Kurt cleared his throat as Blaine entered his room again a few hours later. 'I suppose I am one lucky guy,' He started. Blaine paused at the foot of his bed and tilted his head in question. 'On the one day I have a car crash - and one that would have been fatal - a doctor finds me and immediately starts to heal me.' He offered a grin. 'Thinking about the chances of that happening, of you finding me so soon after I veered off the road, I'm thinking it was one hell of a miracle.'

Blaine laughed softly and rocked his head slightly to the side. 'No, I don't think it was a miracle at all...' Now it was Kurt's turn to tilt his head. Blaine licked his lips and placed both hands on either side of Kurt's feet, before saying something which chilled Kurt to the bone. 'After all, I was following you.'

It took almost the rest of the day for Kurt to finally broach the subject of Blaine's earlier words with his carer. If he was being perfectly honest, the admission chilled him more than he thought appropriate. I was following you. Kurt had been hounded by readers at book fairs and signings and once he even tailed back to his hotel in Chicago by a blue haired individual who resembled neither a man or a woman. He or she was stopped before even entering the reception area. But all of those times Kurt had people paid to look out for him. At first it was just literary personnel who were managing visits but as time went on Kurt was deemed special enough to warrant security during his more high-profile appearances.

But at Silver Creek? The community had always graced him with peace and privacy. He didn't think it was even possible to be followed up in this neck of the woods. How do you follow someone up mountains without some type of planning? Kurt watched as Blaine moved the aeriel of the radio he was donating to Kurt's room. So far it was making only static noises but his host was insistent it would work soon enough.

Kurt cleared his throat. 'Blaine?'

'It won't take a second, Kurt, don't worry.' Blaine called over his shoulder. As if on cue, the radio came to life with the most depressing century old music. Blaine grinned and stood up properly. 'There. That'll do for now. And once I find that old television set in the attic you'll be able to enjoy that.'

'It's not that - although, thank you,' Kurt smiled in gratitude as Blaine turned to look at him fully. 'I was just wondering what you meant earlier when you said...' He paused to momentarily bite his lip. 'you were following me.'

Blaine's eyebrows rose and he gave a short burst of laughter. 'I'm sorry - I made it sound so sinister, didn't I?' Kurt didn't confirm or deny it. Blaine strolled over and pulled up a seat by Kurt's bedside. 'What I meant was that I knew you were in Silver Creek and when I saw you driving away from the lodge I thought 'What has possessed him to go out for a drive with a storm coming?'. So I followed. And a good thing I did.' His hand slid out and caught Kurt's before the younger man could hide it. 'You don't call yourself a number one fan if you don't even know where your favourite writer goes to create his masterpieces. I knew practically the moment you arrived. I drive by the lodge almost every day and a Mustang like yours is hard to miss in that car park.' Kurt grimaced when he thought of his precious vehicle now a crashed wreck somewhere half-covered in unforgiving ice. Blaine continued. 'Sometimes, when it's quiet, I'll just stop outside your cabin.' His eyes grew bright and filled with fondness as he pictured the scene in his mind. Kurt just stared, studying his face. 'When it's dark and the only light is coming from your cabin I just sit back and wonder what that mind and those fingers are creating that very minute. What has Darcy done in this chapter? Has he finally taken over Berack Library, and has Lord Anthony caused more trouble for him or has he at last discovered his true feelings for Darcy?'

Kurt tried to look flattered. Really, he did. But he was never very good at feigning emotion; another reason why he didn't pursue a career in the dramatic arts after conquering the world of bestsellers. It stirred something in his stomach to hear those gruesome names again. At one point the character he had created to clash with his protagonist filled him with awe and pride; a man so arrogant and callous in desperate need of taming and someone who could secretly steal Darcy Brown's heart throughout the series. He recalled the thousands of letters he received after the fourth book when readers were confronted with another suitor for their Darcy Brown - someone who was charming and kind, and a right side better than Lord Anthony. Oh, how the readers hated this new man. How they hated Darcy's instant attraction and, oh, how they roared in celebration when the gentleman was shipped off to Australasia early in the fifth book. Could one of those letters been written by Blaine himself? The very idea that the man who singlehandedly saved Kurt's life was once just a messy scrawl on paper which Kurt rolled his eyes at before tossing to the side in a bag tagged 'recycling'. It was disturbing and Kurt could not shake it off. Still, he took a breath and lightly commented 'Then perhaps it was a miracle that you - my number one fan - happen to live in the area.'

Again, Blaine chuckled. 'It's no accident I'm up here,' He sighed. A quick glance around the room caused Kurt to mirror his eye movements. 'Like I said before...my life last year when I was still working in my practice was all too much. Stress gets to you and you almost need a doctor for yourself. I felt trapped and crowded so I knew I had to get away.' Blaine then shifted a little closer in his seat and his hand squeezed Kurt. His eyes never left his patients. 'That's when I read about your love for Silver Creek. You said in this newspaper interview that it was perfect if you needed peace and quiet - and you were right! I love it up here, although I'd be lying if I said my move had nothing to do with the increased chances of seeing you.' Kurt flushed under his intense gaze, but not out of pleased flattery as Blaine was mistaking it for. Savior or not, Blaine was not shy about his obvious admiration for him. It was more than a little alarming when he considered just how far this admiration had gone.

Coughing away some awkwardness, Kurt stole his hand away when Blaine's grip loosened. 'You're very kind for saying that, but I'm just a writer. There's so many greater authors out there who deserve twice as much notoriety as I have but haven't even received half. One of my favourites is T-'

'Kurt, please!' Blaine interrupted, his smile vanishing so rapidly it stunned Kurt into silence. With a gaze so serious it could be considered criminal, Blaine shook his head and placed both hands on the bed as if pleading a case. 'Don't belittle the incredible work you've done. Darcy Brown is more than just a-a character. He's a sign. A symbol.' Kurt blinked. That was never his intention... 'He represents the ideal man on the brink of responsibility and coming to terms with himself in a world that challenges every thread of his existence. He's the personification of homosexual revolution - normalising something still considered despicable even now.' Blaine's tone was becoming anxious and Kurt was a little afraid of how passionate he was being without any prompting. He wasn't angry, no, but he was determined and seemingly blown away by the very concept he was voicing. 'Darcy Brown,' Blaine said slowly and steadily, a small smile returning to his lips as his eyes gleamed in appreciation - appreciation Kurt felt very unworthy of. 'is the man people like me want to aspire to. He's to be admired, desired, even.'

Forced into false analysis of his own creation, Kurt figured if he must listen to such trash he might as well add to the thought. 'Believe me, Blaine, I don't agree.' It was almost humorous how stunned the older man was at his words, and Kurt felt even more obligated to take away some of the undue appreciation his title character had just received. 'Darcy is flawed as everyone is, and in some ways even more stumbled. He threw his own mother out into the cold knowing her only fate was death. He swindled his own relatives out of an inheritance which he then wasted away on elitist parties. He pioneers for acceptance but made Charlie King the laughing stock of the city because he rejected a party invitation because he wanted to go to church the next day.' Kurt shook his head and threw up his good hand. 'He's not evil - I'm not implying that - but I didn't write him to be admired. I wrote him to be normal, even relatable.'

To his surprise, Kurt found his 'number one fan' smiling at this point whilst shaking his head gently. 'You know what I think, Kurt?' Blaine murmured softly as he lowered his chin to rest in his hand. 'I think you don't give Darcy enough credit. I think you can't see how wonderful he is because you don't like to see how wonderful you are.'

Eyes bulging, Kurt blurted out an 'Excuse me?'

'I think you are more like Darcy than you realise and admitting he is admirable is like admitting your own greatness. And you are too humble to do such a thing.' Kurt had nothing to say to that. However, inside he was venting. He was nothing like Darcy Brown. The character was like an annoying, spoilt whining brat banging pots and pans together inside his head. They had nothing in common, to Kurt's knowledge, and he didn't enjoy being compared to the bane of his existence.

Opening his mouth to let at least some of his objections find light, Kurt shocked himself by uttering out a small 'Ahh!' as something deep in his chest pounded in dull pain. It was probably brought on by his agitated shifting but it was no less disarming than as if it were a new injury.

Blaine's eyes widened and he leaned back in his chair. 'Gosh...' He gasped to himself in a hushed tone, 'It's like clockwork. Let me get you your Norvil...' He stood and left the room with a few long strides.

As he waited as patiently as he could, Kurt winced as the ever-spreading achy notions of pain licked at his muscles and ligaments; even his brain felt like it was working around a network of embedded needles. When Blaine's cupped hand caught his sight, Kurt tipped his head up and willed the man closer. A whine escaped his lips as his relief was held off longer as a glass of water was carefully poured. Blaine hushed him gently and his arm snaked under Kurt's shoulder blades to help prop him up. 'Atta boy...' Blaine murmured against Kurt's cheek. Kurt mindlessly swallowed the pills Blaine dropped in his mouth, and drank up the water so fast one might think he was desperately dehydrated. 'There we are...relax. Good boy. Lie back down for me-' Kurt obeyed with his eyes closed and his breathing heavy. Blaine settled him down and took his time in pulling his arm out from under him. 'Atta boy...my perfect, little patient.'

Blaine's free hand thoughtfully hovered over his pants pocket where he carried the Norvil capsules in their bottle. He gave the bottle a self-assured pat of approval.

A.N. Yes, yes, I know. I'm evil; Blaine is getting Kurt hooked on drugs. In my defence, though, that is sort of how the story goes! They are painkillers but as we all know drugs are drugs. Addiction happens. How did you guys like this chapter? Do we enjoy obsessive Blaine? Do we feel pity for Kurt? It's about to get worse, though, so if so I'm sorry. Please PLEASE leave a review or message before you go! :P