"Amatuer video from the scene shows…."
"Local student, Kurt Hummel, saves classmates and is revealed as…"
"... Nightbird appeared at McKinley High School following a fire…. "
"Wings man! He had wings! How could we not know he had wings!"
"... a terrorist conspiracy. The government…"
"Senator Adams declined comment…."
"... a reminder from the government that aiding metahumans is against the law…."

Blaine shut off the line of TV's on the shelf over his computer, tired of the constant repeat of the same story over and over. His stomach was making knots of its own volition and all he could think of to do was to check to see if there had been a response from anyone in the league even though he had just checked his messages no less than thirty seconds ago. Yet again, his inbox failed to give him anything that might be able to help settle his stomach and Blaine returned to fidgeting and glancing over at the bed.

This wasn't supposed to happen here. Not statistically anyhow. Blaine was supposed to be the only unregistered metahuman in the area based on probability. That being said, it was clear that math wasn't on his side in this case. Sure, New York had a few dozen, California had produced about twenty that he knew of, but Ohio? Ohio wasn't as populated as either of those places, and yet that guy, Kurt according to the news, was like him.

No one in the league had told him how to handle meeting up with another meta, much less what to do if he ended up saving one. The crowd had seen it first while Blaine was too focused on making sure the guy was alright, but the hush alerted him that something was amiss, and moving his eyes, he saw the wings. Beautiful white wings, like the ones they always painted angels with, springing free from burnt clothing and elastic binding. Once they started to poke out, there was no stopping them either. It was a flood of white feathers springing loose from the tatters on the guy's body, whose own burns were grotesque and a complete contrast to the gorgeously velvet feathers that he had been hiding under his clothing.

The blare of sirens and a rise in the volume of the crowd had woken Blaine up from his stunned stupor then, eyes jumping up to see officers and firemen that were slowly, hesitantly, advancing on them. God… Blaine didn't have a clue what to do. How could he have?

The guy beckoned him to go though, and despite the plea, Blaine knew there was no way he was going to leave him there to be arrested and assaulted and god knows what else the human government did to people like them. Ignoring the plea from Kurt, he had taken him up into his arms, and made off with him, thankful that his powers allowed him the ability to delay the officials that would have otherwise easily caught up to him.

A groan made Blaine turn to look back at the bed where he had set Kurt hours earlier. Blaine was no doctor, and certainly not sure what to do with the burns covering Kurt's body, but he knew enough to strip off the majority of Kurt's clothing and bindings, leaving him just in ash discolored briefs. Then Blaine had 44to check the internet, only finding less-than-helpful suggestions that burns of Kurt's caliber needed to be seen by a professional and that Blaine should get him to a hospital.

Because that was an option.

Blaine rolled his eyes at the idea and tiptoed over to Kurt's side, or at least as close as he could get to Kurt's side. Freed, those wings spread everywhere. One was climbing up the wall that the bed was pushed against and the other was spread over the floor as far as it could reach. Blaine had watched him sleep, fascinated by the extra appendages this boy possessed. They looked like thin, extra limbs, with a layer of skin stretched between the joints. The limbs were covered in smaller, white feathers, while the rest of the wings had layers of the white feathers that were bigger. It was amazing to think that he had managed to hide those things from the world for so long. While he had slept, Blaine had snuck regular glances at them, watching them twitch as Kurt dreamt, not unlike how his childhood dog would run in his sleep. Those wings ached to be free, and how they rustled while Kurt was unconscious was proof of it.

Another groan made Blaine look away from the wing spread over the ground and back to Kurt's face. He had brought a hand up to rub over it, wincing and hissing at the touch of his own fingers. His eyes flew open then, and Blaine's breath caught at the shock of the blue that jumped right at him. He hadn't expected blue eyes, especially ones so bright against the dark red and black on Kurt's face.

"Where am I? What's going on? Am I dead? Is this the government? Is my dad okay?" came all out of his mouth at once without stop for breath, and Kurt shoved himself up to sit, clearly forcing his way through pain as he gritted his teeth, still white under the blacked skin of his lips. The wings were drawn back as soon as Kurt was able, bunched in close to his back, and Blaine marvelled at how he could control them like that before he remembered that those questions were being directed to him.

"You're in my house. I took you here. You're not dead. I am definitely not the government, and I'm sure your dad is fine. They generally don't go after family." Blaine offered as calmly as he could to try and balance out Kurt's panic.

Kurt was staring at him, looking him up and down until the memory of what had happened must have clicked. "You're Nightbird."

Blaine nodded. He still was in his costume, but the mask was off and the grease paint around his eyes had long ago been washed off as well. "Blaine… my name is Blaine."

"Blaine…. You…" Kurt paused as he looked over the room he was in. It was in Blaine's basement, and far from any grand lair that the superheroes in his comic books had, but it had what he needed - a bed, a mini-fridge, perimeter camera's, TV's for each new's station, and a couple of computers. One corner of the basement was dedicated to his fitness - with a punching bag, weights, and sparring dummy, and another corner hosted a table with some gadgetry he was working on. It was no batcave, but it worked. "... I told you to leave me… you didn't."

Blaine nodded, "No telling what they would have done if they had captured you…"

Kurt seemed to think about that for a moment, and Blaine's eyes debated between looking over those fantastic wings again or looking at those bold, blue eyes. In the end he ended up looking at Kurt's mouth as the next question was asked.

"How bad am I burned?"

"You were very badly burnt… "

"Were?"

Blaine nodded silently, using a remote in his hand to pull up a spreadsheet on the monitor of his closest computer where he had graphed some data earlier. "But after you were here for an hour, I noticed that your burns seemed like they were getting better, much to my relief, … so I measured some of the blisters on you and then again an hour later… and again after that…."

"How long have I been here?"

"Eight hours and some change." Blaine quickly noted before continuing, "Then I did a regression on that data… and you're healing… not instantly like some superhero's in the movies… but much faster than normal humans do."

Kurt stared at the chart on the screen for a moment, eyes dull and void, before looking down at his still scorched arms and grimacing at the blisters covering them. "When will I be totally healed?"

"Uh…. well…." Blaine hadn't thought to make that prediction, and had to zoom into the graph he'd made off the regression formula to see where it intercepted the axis. "Tomorrow morning maybe? You didn't know you could heal like that?"

"No. I didn't..." Kurt looked around again, seeming to purposely avoid eye contact with Blaine. "... do you have some clothes I can borrow then?"

"Oh!" Of course. He was shy about being almost naked. No wonder he was uncomfortable. Generally an almost naked guy would have been cause for Blaine to get uncomfortable too, but with the damage covering Kurt's body, and the allure of the wings, Blaine had barely noticed. "Sure. But you should wait until your skin is healed before you wear clothing… I can get you a blanket to cover yourself with though."

Kurt nodded, and Blaine rushed upstairs to collect one of his softer blankets which he quickly offered to Kurt who took it and wrapped it over himself, taking in a hiss of breath as the fabric hit his skin. "Thank you."

"No problem. Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

Again Kurt nodded and Blaine left again for the upstairs to make a grilled cheese sandwich and a pour a glass of milk for his guest. This he could do. This at least gave him a purpose until the league responded to his calls for support. He delivered the food in much the same manner as the blanket, and sat at one of his computer chairs, watching Kurt quietly.

Kurt was a silent eater, picking at his food in a way that made Blaine worry that it wasn't to his liking. Was Kurt lactose intolerant? Vegan? God. Blaine should have asked more questions. Kurt was his first guest here and he was already screwing it up.

"Do you have anything I could bind these back with?" Kurt finally asked after a long, carried out hush, bouncing his wings up a bit to indicate just what he was speaking about.

"Your wings? Why would you want to bind them…?" Blaine asked, looking at the feathered appendages in question which Kurt had been holding so tightly against his back since he had regained consciousness.

"Well to fit under the clothing for when I go tomorrow once I'm healed up."

"Go? You can't go." Blaine said with a shake of his head.

"Why can't I? You said you're not the government…. why keep me here?" Kurt asked, chin up, suddenly so defiant. He looked ready to fight, to argue, and Blaine briefly glanced over at the monitor, hoping to see a new message alert. He was not prepared to deal with this.

"Because… you're in danger out there. Where would you even go?"

"Back home." Kurt insisted, staring at Blaine now with such intensity that Blaine had to look away.

"It's not safe there."

"It's always been safe there."

Blaine frowned, slowly reaching for the giant remote he had programmed to work on all the TV's and then turning them on one by one. Each one dedicated to news, each one showing the story that had resulted in Blaine and Kurt being forced into each others lives. Kurt watched them all wide-eyed, paying particular attention to a newer story where his father, Burt, was asking reporters to get off his lawn and otherwise refusing to answer questions about his son. The man looked like he had just had his heart ripped out, and Blaine certainly felt bad for him just by looking at him. Another station had gotten ahold of a school photo of Kurt since Blaine had last watched, and Blaine found himself looking between the photo on the screen, and the scarred, red, blistered man who came to crouch near him in order to watch the story unfold with the media.

"I… I can't go home…." Kurt finally choked out as Blaine tried to figure out where he had seen Kurt before. The school photo had given him pause, as Blaine had realized that he had seen Kurt somewhere. Maybe he had passed him on the street, or seen him at one of his school's open houses… wherever it had been, Blaine was sure Kurt's unburnt face was not one that could be forgotten and was sure, than in time, he'd remember where it was that he had seen him before.

Right now though, that face was a medley of blisters, with despair so set in blue eyes it reminded Blaine of pictures he'd seen in textbooks of children displaced by war. "No… at least not anytime soon."

"What am I supposed to do then?"

Blaine didn't have an answer, and given the lack of alerts still on his computer screen, neither did the league. He understood they all had regular day jobs, but he was having a difficult time believing that none of them had seen the news from Ohio and thought to maybe check in with the only league member they had in Ohio.

"You can stay here… and once the league responds to me -"

"The who?" Kurt cut him off, the place above his eyes where eyebrows had been singed off arching up questioningly.

"The league. It's a group of underground meta's…. like me…"

"Uh huh… and let me guess, Batman commands you all from a satellite in the sky."

Blaine pursed his lips into a tight, thin line. He didn't even need to use any of his skills to determine that Kurt was mocking him with the tone he was using. "No. We all have regular jobs or day-to-day activities, like school for me, and try to show the world that we're not a threat whenever we can."

"Dalton Academy is your day-to-day cover?"

The question, more for seeking confirmation than anything given how Kurt was looking at Blaine so intently, took Blaine aback. Kurt recognized Blaine as well, and knew from where. "Did you… have you gone there? You know who I am?"

"You're the lead singer for the Warblers."

Blaine swallowed the air in his mouth deeply and nodded, racking his brain as hard and as fast as he could to try and figure out where they had met before. His blank eyes being met by Kurt's cool ones, he saw a glimmer of light in Kurt's eyes as the other man realized Blaine couldn't figure it out, and then supplied it for him.

"A lot of my friends are in the New Directions. I come to cheer them on at competitions."

"But you don't join them….?" Blaine asked, more a means of stalling as he rooted around in his brain for memories of his competitions while also trying to determine if Kurt knowing his identity was at all cause for concern.

"I like to sing, but because of these things - " He puffed his wings up a bit. " - I can't move that much… not enough to dance fluidly anyhow."

"But… they have a guy in a wheelchair…" Blaine stammered, thinking back to sectionals… The boy who came to congratulate the New Directions when they had tied with the Warblers. The boy, whose face lit up the stage when he had ascended it and Blaine couldn't look away until Wes had slapped him on the back. That was the boy in the photo, on the news.

In his basement.

"Yeah. But Artie can at least roll around and move his shoulders. I have to be careful about how I step and breathe…."

Blaine's gaze lifted to those magnificent wings behind Kurt. "That's a shame…."

There was silence again. Uncomfortable, heart pounding, eye averting, silence. Then Kurt glanced up. "How'd you get me here? You have a plane… or a Nightbird armored car… or a -"

"Prius."

Kurt blinked a few times, and Blaine could see the sprigs of new lashes growing where they had been burned off earlier in the day. "A Prius? I got rescued in a Prius?"

"It's better for the environment."

"Yeah… but… aren't you guys supposed to have special super vehicles?"

Blaine laughed at that and quickly shook his head. "No. I drive the Prius to school and back…"

"But Dalton's in Westerville… and you showed up so fast…"

"Er…" Blaine tugged at the collar of his costume. "Well the house we're in… it's an acreage that's between Westerville and Lima. It gives me privacy even if I have a longer drive to and from school. As for showing up quickly… that fire actually gave me an excuse to get out of bad date at The Lima Bean."

Kurt made a small snort of laughter. "Really now? Is there any other kind of date but bad at The Lima Bean?"

Blaine chuckled in turn, looking down at his fidgeting hands. He had tried to make the best of the date, but he couldn't help himself, and saw what others couldn't see. Jeremiah was cute, that was certain, and why Blaine had asked him out for coffee in the first place, but he was deceitful, and Blaine had a hard time seeing past that whenever the guy opened up his mouth.

"So… can I at least call my dad? He's got to be so worried… he doesn't know if I'm alive or dead or safe or not..."

Blaine looked back up, nibbling his lips over in turn with his teeth as he considered it. "They'll probably be watching your dad pretty close for the next little while… I wouldn't… I could try to get a message to him though if you really want."

Kurt nodded emphatically, "Yeah… please… he's… All we have is one another."

Blaine offered Kurt a small smile, hoping it was enough to stem his discomfort, though knowing well enough that it wasn't. In a matter of a day Kurt's world had been turned upside-down, and though he seemed to be handling it well enough, Blaine knew people well enough to know when things were boiling just under the surface and Kurt looked ready to spill over.

"Why Nightbird?"

Blaine shook his head, blinking a few times. Of all the questions he expected next, that was not one of them. "Huh?"

"Nightbird. Why Nightbird? It was a topic of conversation just at lunch today for some of the kids I eat lunch with. Do you have bird powers?"

Blaine let out a soft chuckle and reached back with one hand to rub the back of his neck. "No. It's an homage to Nightwing."

"Nightwing?"

"Y'know… Dick Grayson."

Kurt shook his head, eyes blank. Hadn't Kurt just used Batman as a reference? Or was that just a lucky coincidence?

"The first Robin?"

Another head shake, and the same blank look.

"Oh… okay then…" Blaine stood up and shook his own head then. The benefit of going to an all-guys school was that comic book references were generally picked up on pretty easily. It wasn't often he met a guy his own age that didn't know the Batman mythology, yet he seemed to have one in his midst now, and could only address Kurt's lacking knowledge in the best way he knew how.

Blaine walked over to a closet and pulled it open, grinning from ear to ear as he presented his collection of long boxes. "Ta-da!"

The lack of excitement in Kurt's face was more than evident as the winged boy stepped cautiously over to Blaine and looked over the rows and rows of boxes, so meticulously labeled with the comic series they held within them, and then looked at Blaine as if he was waiting for more.

"Oh jeeze…." Blaine grunted, realizing the comic storage wasn't having the desired effect on Kurt and went to the N's, where his collection of Nightwing comics were carefully boarded and covered in individual plastic. Picking a few, where Nightwing was featured prominently on the cover, he held them out to Kurt.

"Oooh…" Kurt said quietly, scanning the picture of the costumed crusader. "So… is his power looking buff in tights?"

"What?! No!" Blaine gawked, letting his jaw hit the floor before he scooped it back up and stammered. "He was Batman's first Robin! When he got older he took on the super-identity of Nightwing! He was even Batman when Batman was dead for awhile! He doesn't have powers. He's just kickass! He's the best gymnast in the world, and he's been trained by Batman as a sleuth, and he can fight in a few different styles, and uses escrima sticks, and -"

Kurt's eyes got a little wider, and Blaine instantly recognized that look. It was the same one his mother had given him when he had gone on a similar tirade several years ago, though at that time it was about Green Lanterns. Kurt thought he was insane.

"Look… just… you're stuck here for awhile anyhow… you can read them if you want… Just make sure they go back into their covers!"

Kurt nodded slowly, eyes still locked on Blaine. "So… you don't have an ability then? You just mimic this guy and have a hero fetish?"

Blaine sighed and rubbed the heel of his palm against his forehead. "No… I do…"

"But it's not a bird related one…"

"No…" Blaine shook his head and looked back up at Kurt. "I'm a level five."

Kurt was quiet at that, looking over Blaine calmly for a moment without the shock or awe that Blaine had almost expected. "Can you read my thoughts?"

Blaine shook his head, "No… I'm not THAT kind of level five."

"But your power is something mentally invasive though… that's what level five's are supposed to be right?"

Blaine sighed, glancing up to the corner of the ceiling for a moment before looking back to Kurt. "Maybe instead of comics, I should let you read the documentation I have about how they determine levels… might help I guess. Not all level five's are mind readers…."

"All things being equal…" Kurt said with an apologetic shrug, "... I think I'd prefer to read that documentation to understand a little bit more about myself. The government is so tight lipped about it all that all I've ever known has been based on rumors."

"That's fair." Blaine said, pushing down a sigh as he took back the comics and carefully put them back in their place. The first person to see his collection since he had moved here and it had to be someone that didn't even appreciate comics. Figured.