A/N I'm so happy you all seem to be liking this story so far! I was worried I'd get some negative responses, but so far so good! Thank you!

Because this story is so complex and the chapters longer, it may take longer to update than my other three stories. Thank you for your patience!

Reviews are always appreciated.

…

Learning Curve

The dark haired boy let out a choked sob as sweat beaded on his face. "Please! No more! I did what you asked me to!"

He cried out as another wave of sensation rippled through him, every nerve ending over stimulated. The voice that responded to him was distorted, warped by the effects of the drugs as much as the electronic filter. "Yes, you obeyed nicely, my perfect boy. But your job isn't finished yet."

The boy whimpered. "I gave him the sedative, as you asked me to. What else do you want from me?"

"All will be revealed in time. For now, you only need to remember that obedience is everything."

The boy sobbed again, hating himself, hating how much he enjoyed what was happening to him. His body didn't care that this was so wrong, didn't care that the drug coursing through him robbed him of his will power and self preservation. It craved the sensations being forced upon it. He craved the praise of the Overseer.

…

Kurt woke up the next morning, his head pounding with a headache, nausea roiling in his stomach. He barely made it to the bathroom before he collapsed to his knees, and vomited. Just great, my first day at a new school and I'm sick.

He hadn't slept well, either, he'd kept having weird dreams, though he couldn't recall any of them now. He'd had nightmares almost every night since The Incident. All of them had left him feeling a sense of dread.

"Kurt? Are you okay?" Blaine asked from the doorway. Kurt glanced up at the curly haired boy, resenting the fact that the other boy looked so perfect, despite having just rolled out of bed.

"Migraine," he managed to mutter before another bout of vomiting.

"I'm sorry. I have some medicine for that, if you want." Blaine went to the sink and dampened a wash cloth with cool water, and filled a glass, before grabbing the bottle from the medicine cabinet.

"Thanks," Kurt moaned, as the wet material gently wiped his face.

Blaine smiled softly at him. "I think my candle made you sick, I'm sorry. Lavender helps me sleep. I should have warned you."

Kurt frowned at the memory. Yeah, lavender was soothing, but it seemed to him that the candle had something else mixed with it. He'd never felt like that before. Before he could think about it further, another sharp pain lanced through his skull, and he heaved again, though there was nothing left in his stomach to throw up.

"Here, take this, and lay back down for a while. You have an hour before it's even necessary to get up." Blaine helped him take the headache medicine, holding the glass steady, because his hands were shaking so bad. The curly headed boy then helped him back to bed and tucked him in. "Go back to sleep for a little while, and I'll bring you breakfast. Hopefully by then you'll feel well enough to go to classes."

Kurt sighed, closing his eyes.

…

Surprisingly, when Kurt woke up ninety minutes later, he felt much better. There was still a dull ache in his head, but it was no where near as bad as it had been. He sat up slowly as Blaine set a breakfast tray down on the table between their beds. The shorter boy smiled. "Better?"

Kurt smiled sleepily and nodded. "Hungry."

"Good. I hope you like blueberry pancakes and fruit salad. I didn't want to bring you anything too greasy that might upset your stomach again."

"Sounds perfect, thank you."

"No problem, and don't feel like you need to rush, your first class this morning has been canceled, so you have time to get ready."

"Why was it canceled?" Kurt asked, taking a bite of pancake.

"The teacher, Mr. Jensen's wife went into labor this morning."

"Oh. What was my first class supposed to be, anyway?"

"English. You have AP History next. Wes will stop by to get you before to show you where to go. I have to leave in a little while to get to Calculus."

Kurt felt a little self conscious as the other boy watched him eat. "I'm sorry about earlier. I really haven't made much of an impression here, have I? First I have a panic attack, and then I get a migraine and wake you up with my retching."

The other boy sat down on his own bed and just smiled at him. "It's okay, it's not your fault."

"I still feel bad, though. I'm not usually so...helpless." His voice broke a little as a flash of memory flitted through his mind; cold, hard metal digging into his back, rough hands, unwanted kisses...

No! He wouldn't fall apart again. He set aside the remains of his breakfast, no longer hungry. "How long until I need to be ready?"

Blaine glanced at the clock. "You have a little over an hour. I should be heading off now. I'll see you at lunch time."

Kurt nodded as he slipped out of bed and gathered up his uniform and headed to the bathroom to shower. As he shampooed his hair, he noticed a tender spot behind his left ear, like a small bruise. He must have bumped it sometime between yesterday afternoon and this morning, though he didn't recall doing so. He shrugged it off and finished rinsing.

By the time Wes arrived to show him to class, he was moisturized, dressed, and impeccably coiffed, ready to go. "How are you feeling? Blaine said you had a bad migraine this morning."

"I'm doing better now. Still have a little bit of a headache, but it's bearable." He finished tying his tie and picked up his satchel. "So, off to AP History?"

The Asian boy smiled kindly at him. "Yes, and then afterward David will show you to French, which he has with you."

"Génial, j'aime le français. Je suis impatient d'y être!"

"I have no clue what you just said, but you and David will get along famously." Kurt laughed as they walked down the stairs. As they approached the classroom, Wes paused. "By the way, we're holding auditions tomorrow for the Warblers, at four-thirty. I hope we'll see you there."

Kurt smiled. "I'd like that."

The older boy patted him on the shoulder, and then left for his next class. Kurt entered the classroom and took his seat. History was not his best subject, and he wasn't sure how he had ended up in the AP class here at Dalton. He'd barely held on to a 3.0 GPA at McKinley in basic history. It wasn't that he didn't like history, it was just hard keeping all those dates straight in his head.

As the class began, and Kurt took notes, the pain in his head began to increase again, though not enough to make him sick. He did find himself rubbing absently at the spot behind his left ear occasionally, but surprisingly by the end of the class, he had all the dates memorized.

David met him by the door when class let out, and they talked about music as they walked to French. The pain faded out as he engaged in conversation with the teacher in flawless French.

Next he had AP Calculus. He was pretty good at math, but occasionally he would get mixed up. He was erasing a mistake in his equation when the pain in his head returned. Kurt was beginning to worry. He'd had migraines before, but they'd never been like this before. He thought about going to the nurse, but then just put it down as stress. Dalton's standards were much more ridged than public school. Between transferring to a new school, the nightmares from The Incident, and worrying about his dad's heart condition, Kurt thought it was a wonder he hadn't been hospitalized with a mental breakdown.

He was glad that lunch was next. He was invited to sit at the Warbler's table again, and several of the boys asked him if he was planning to audition the next afternoon. The conversation mostly revolved around music, but he over heard a couple boys discussing the fact that Trent had apparently been dumped by his boyfriend. He looked over at the large boy, and frowned when he saw the amount of food the boy had on his plate, obviously comfort eating.

"Trent," Blaine said, sounding worried. "You know what happens when you eat too much."

The other boy took a large bite of brownie, almost in defiance. Kurt wasn't exactly sure what happened next, but it appeared the boy had a small seizure, and blood trickled from his nose. Immediately Wes, Blaine, and David were on their feet, and leading the boy out of the room. The rest of the Warblers seemed to lose their appetites, and the conversation became stilted, none of the boys wanting to look at each other.

Kurt turned to Nick. "Is he okay? What happened?"

The friendly looking Warbler appeared reluctant to answer at first, but then sighed and said, "Trent is on a special diet. When he eats things he isn't supposed to, he suffers. He'll be fine by this afternoon."

Kurt frowned. "You mean like food allergies?"

The Warbler just shrugged.

Wes returned just as lunch finished up, and led Kurt to his next class, AP Science. He did fairly well in science generally, and the teacher was fairly engaging, which made the class more interesting. His next class was Economics, which he enjoyed.

He was dreading his last class of the day; Phys Ed. At McKinley, he had avoided the locker room like the plague. Except for that day...No! Stop thinking about that!

Nervously, he entered the humid environment, keeping his head downcast. He knew the boys here at Dalton adhered to the no bullying policy, but he didn't want to chance giving any of them a reason to hate him. He changed quickly in one of the bathroom stalls, before putting his things in his locker.

"Kurt! Hey!" Blaine called out as he was leaving the locker room. "How you feeling now? I forgot to ask you at lunch time."

"I'm fine, though I've been having minor flare ups through out the day. How is Trent? Does that happen often?"

Blaine looked away as he answered. "He'll be fine. He just needs to remember to stick to his diet."

"I've never seen anyone have that kind of reaction to a food allergy. Must be very severe. What all is he allergic to?"

Before Blaine could answer, a whistle blew, and the Phys Ed teacher called attendance.

"Alright, we have a new boy here today. Mr. Hummel, before we set your regimen, we'll need to do an evaluation. The rest of you know the routine. Ten rounds, starting now!"

The other boys broke up into groups of 4-5 and moved to different stations around the gym; some went to the weights, some began to run around the indoor track, some began doing push ups, sit ups, and chin ups, rotating after a while.

"Mr. Hummel," the instructor, Mr. Higgins, drew his attention. "We'll start with measurements, and percent body fat, and then we'll check your muscle strength. Once we see where you are at, we'll set up your routine for gym class, and discuss your diet."

Kurt frowned at that, but just nodded his head. An aide assisted Mr. Higgins in taking Kurt's weight and measurements, and then asked him to take off his shirt. Kurt hesitated, self conscious of his body.

"Mr. Hummel? I asked you to take your shirt off," Mr. Higgins said, sounding stern. Kurt winced as pain once more lanced through his head, and he shakily removed his shirt. The bruises from the bullying had mostly faded, but the ones on his back from The Incident were still visible. He was aware of several boys staring at him. "Much better. Don't make me repeat myself again, please."

Kurt nodded, his face flushed with embarrassment. They measured his percentage of body fat, and Mr. Higgins murmured in approval. "You're a dancer, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. A little work on your muscle tone, maybe a slight change in your diet, and you should be perfect. I'll speak to the nutritionist. For now, why don't you finish out the period doing sit ups and pull ups? Blaine can work with you."

Kurt nodded and hurriedly slipped his shirt back on before going over to the area where the boys had just moved into their final round of physical training. He was still feeling self conscious as Blaine smiled at him.

"Are you okay, Kurt?"

The pale boy wouldn't look at him, feeling like he was on the verge of tears. "My headache is coming back, I think." It was the truth, his head was beginning to throb again, though still not nearly as bad as that morning, but that wasn't what was bothering him. He felt humiliated at having to take his shirt off in front of everyone.

Blaine patted him on the shoulder. "It'll be okay. There's only about ten minutes of class left. I'll hold your feet for the sit ups."

Kurt nodded, still not looking at the other boy. He did a set of twenty sit ups, and then twenty pull ups, but his arms felt like noodles by the time he finished. Fortunately the bell rang then. Kurt just grabbed his things, not bothering to change, and rushed back to his dorm as quickly as he could without running. He just wanted to lock himself in the bathroom, take a hot shower, and cry.

He was just drying off when he heard Blaine calling his name. He quickly dressed and stepped out into the room. The curly haired boy gave him a concerned look. "Headache worse again?"

"Yeah, a little."

"I'll get you some more medicine for it. Why don't you lay down until dinner time? Don't worry about your homework right now, I'll help you with it later."

Kurt nodded and got back in bed while the shorter boy went to get the headache medicine from the bathroom, along with a glass of water. He took the pills and had just laid down when his phone chimed an incoming call. He glanced at the screen before he answered.

"Hey, dad."

"Hey, kiddo. How was your first day?"

"Okay, I guess, except I woke up with a killer migraine this morning."

"A migraine? Are you okay now?"

"Yeah, I think the stress just got to me. I'm going to take a nap before dinner and see how I feel then."

"Okay, bud. I won't keep you on the phone long, then. I just wanted to know if you are still planning on coming home this weekend?"

"I think so. I'll call you Thursday after classes if things change."

"Good. Get some rest, then. Love you, kid."

"Love you too, dad."

He hung up the phone, and closed his eyes.

…

Blaine was sitting at his desk an hour later when he heard a disturbance behind him. He turned around and saw Kurt thrashing on the bed, whimpering in fear. He heard the boy cry out, "No! Don't touch me! Stop! Please, stop!" And then Kurt sat up with a scream, panting for breath and covered in sweat.

It took the boy a moment to realize where he was, and then to realize he wasn't alone. "I'm sorry," he said, voice cracking. He had to clear his voice before he could speak again. "Bad dream."

Blaine studied him for a moment. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Kurt wouldn't look at him. Blaine made a decision and then went to sit beside the pale boy. "How about I tell you what happened to me, and then if you want to, you can tell me your story? You don't have to, but if you want to, I'll listen."

Kurt settled back against the headboard, and nodded. Blaine sat beside him, getting comfortable. "Last year, I came out at my old school. There was another boy, Victor, who was also out. He and I were friends. Not boyfriends or anything, just friends. We both got picked on, pushed around, but it wasn't that bad. And then some friends invited the two of us to join them at the Sadie Hawkins dance. We went as a group, and we had fun, we all danced together. Victor and I didn't even do anything that would make anyone think there was anything between us.

"After the dance, he and I were waiting for his dad to pick us up, when several boys in a pick up truck jumped us, and beat the crap out of us. I mean it was bad, I thought they were going to kill us. Victor tried to cover me. I ended up with a concussion, two broken ribs, a broken collarbone, and had to have my spleen removed. Victor had a major skull fracture, and lost the vision in one eye. He also had a broken arm, four broken ribs and damage to his kidney.

"My parents decided to send me here, not for my safety, but because they didn't know what else to do with me. They just want me to be normal, like my brother. They figure by sending me here they don't have to deal with it anymore."

Kurt felt bad for the boy. "I'm sorry."

Blaine just shrugged. He was used to it by now. "So, do you want to talk about what happened to you now?"

Kurt hesitated, picking at the blanket. "It was my fault. I shouldn't have followed him."

"Start from the beginning. Who did you follow, and where and why?"

Kurt sighed, and put his head down on his knees. "His name is David Karofsky, he's a jock who has spent the last two years making my life a living hell. One day he slapped my phone out of my hand and slammed me into a locker. I got fed up and chased him down in the locker room, confronting him. I yelled at him, calling him pathetic and a scared little boy. I thought he was going to hit me. He didn't. He kissed me.

"I was in a state of shock, I froze up. He shoved me up against a locker and began groping me. I finally came out of my shock and shoved him away. He got angry, threatened to kill me."

"Oh god, Kurt! I'm so sorry!"

Kurt let out a soft sobbing laugh. "I guess we're both kind of messed up, huh?"

Blaine looked sad. "You have no idea."