Some notes since I don't respond on all of the sites I post this to:
For VoyageAsia - The data regression comes from my own background and actually is possible (aside from the fact that someone healing at Kurt's rate isn't possible). I have a degree in math and it is possible to come up with a formula to predict data so long as you have a few data points to base the information off of in the first place and know what kind of function regression you need to do. Where I live, it would be taught in high school in the academic stream of math. Not sure if and where it would be taught anywhere else, but for those fellow math nerds, I envisioned it as an exponential curve where 0 less than a less than 1 when ax^b.
For Charleygyrl - Don't be ashamed about asking someone who Nightwing is. Most people know about Batman and Robin, but only big nerds like me (and potentially your husband), know about the whole "Bat Family". I posted a pic comparing Nightwing to Nightbird on my tumblr for those who follow me there so they knew what the reference was. :)
For sabbypandawan - I just love you. You are the cutest and most lovable German out there. If I didn't already know better, I'd want you to have my babies.
For Jen, Tery, and a few others who mentioned they don't usually get into this kind of genre - Thanks for trying it out for my sake. :) There have been tropes that I usually avoid reading too, but because I loved the author, I took a chance on it as well (Mpreg and missbeizy's Anderson Rose for example). I'm trying to write it so that it's accessible to everyone regardless of their interest in comics. (Though there might be some easter eggs for those that do revel in the graphic art).
As always, thanks to the people that have kept me motivated to write through their consistent kind words and mentions: marrionchan, theatrevicki, frumiousme, blainedirtydancing, and so many sweet anon's and people who repost my updates on tumblr. I have so many kisses for you that's it's probably good none of you live close to me.
Kurt's eyes hurt. They had hurt since he had woken up, part of the burning pain flooding through all his nerves, but now they hurt even more. Blaine had folders and folders of files on his computer all dedicated to information he'd gathered and been given about metahumans. There was a folder all for archived news stories relating to meta's and government action on them, a folder on the science theories behind how metahumans came to be (most of which Kurt couldn't follow with all the technical jargon involved), a folder on how governments had been handling metahumans around the world and throughout history since they had appeared, and a folder on definitions and categorization though. Kurt was going through the last one and it was like reading a textbook, full of diagrams and case studies and examples. Blaine had pointed out that he would qualify for a sub-level code of 256 for religious significance (ironic considering Kurt was anything but religious), and 144 for animal related abilities. He had also said not to try and determine what level he was at because the league would conduct tests to help him figure that out.
Kurt was as suspicious of the league as he was of the government. Any group that stayed in the shadows and seemed to be focused on metahumans so much couldn't be anything but trouble. Blaine seemed like a nice enough guy, but the fact that he was so concerned about what the league thought he and Kurt should be doing made Kurt worried about how much hold they had over non-registered metahumans.
He'd run if he needed to though. Now that his secret was exposed and he had been given the chance to be free, he'd avoid all authorities for as long as he could. Somehow he'd need to let his dad know. He could only imagine how worried his dad must be, not knowing if Kurt was alive or dead, safe or not, and if he looked still as bad as the video footage they had been playing on the news stations - all crispy black and red. By all accounts, that video made him look like he was about to die, and that couldn't be good for his dad's heart. Kurt tried to push that concern to the back of his mind.
"So what can you do?" Kurt asked as he decided it was time for a break, glancing over at Blaine who was deeply involved in a messaging session with someone from the league on another computer.
"Uh… like… ability wise?" Blaine asked, finishing off his typing before looking back to Kurt.
"Yeah. Out of curiosity."
"I… well… it's hard to explain."
"Try."
Blaine shifted a little in place, looking up for a minute as he considered his response before looking again to Kurt. He had a habit of staring at Kurt's wings, and even though Kurt knew the rest of his body had to look horrible right now, something about his wings being given so much attention made him more self conscious than if Blaine didn't look at him at all. The blanket covered up most of him, but unfortunately not all of him, the arch of his wings protruding out of the blanket and the feathered bottoms floating all around him like a dress below.
"I guess, aura's would be a good starting place to explain. I can see people's auras…. everyone has some bit of color surrounding them… but it's not constant. It depends on what they're saying and feeling. It's not just one color either… it's usually a few, in varying strengths…"
"You can detect emotions…" Kurt provided, trying to see if he understood.
Blaine nodded, "Yeah… more than that though, I can tell if they're lying, if they're hiding something, if they're anxious... If their aura conflicts with what's coming out of their mouth for example. I can also… project feelings, colors, back onto them…"
Kurt tensed up at that admission, watching Blaine's eyes drift up to the peak of his wings. "How?"
"So… for example. When I picked you up and ran, the firemen and the cops were all there and easily could have caught us. I projected confusion to them, yellows and oranges and some brown, so they wouldn't be able to follow us until it wore off."
"You made them feel confused." Kurt uttered, trying to understand how that would work. Was it like a painting where Blaine could just add the color he wanted to the canvas? If so, where did he get the paint to start with?
Blaine nodded, eyes flickering down from the arch of Kurt's wings down to the tips. "Yeah."
"So in a way, you can read minds."
"Not directly. I had to learn how to read the colors I see, and have done a lot of research on body language to help me understand it. There are documented cases of people who could actually read minds though."
"I saw…" Kurt muttered, glancing over to the computer screen again. Those case studies all concluded the same way. The people with those abilities disappeared, never to be heard from again.
"Anyhow…. it should be interesting to see what the limits of your powers are. Can you fly?"
Kurt shook his head, though in fairness he had never tried. There would have been no where he could have made the attempt, and it wasn't like he wanted to showcase the wings anyhow.
"That's too bad… there are all sorts of cool heroes in comic books that can fly… Angel, Hawkman, Falcon, Dawnstar, Wasp…"
As Blaine prattled on, Kurt zoned out. He remembered Blaine from sectionals, remembered his soulful voice and how gorgeous he had been as he danced onstage. He had moved like a dream and sent tremors through Kurt that set his heart aflutter. Never in a million years would Kurt have presumed the heartthrob to be Nightbird, much less a comic book nerd. It didn't exactly make the man less appealing, but Kurt wasn't in a frame of mind where he felt he could feign interest in comics to avoid hurting the guy's feelings. If Blaine truly could read emotions, he'd have to know that Kurt was beyond stressed and that Blaine shouldn't expect colors of excitement to be showing up around him as Blaine waxed poetic about the difference between gliding superheroes and flying superheroes.
"What am I feeling now?" Kurt interrupted.
Blaine blinked and looked back to Kurt, then around the edges of his person, pupils scanning around him for a moment. "Scared… anxious… worried… sad…"
"Huh…" Kurt huffed, turning to look back at the computer. "Do you do that innately or do you have to turn it on?"
"Turn it on?"
"Like that guy in the news last year… he could shoot flames out of his hands but was able to control when and where he did it."
"I see them all the time, but I'm used to them and generally don't pay attention to them unless I need to… and I didn't have to look at yours to know that's how you felt. Anyone could imagine that's how you were feeling given how your day went."
Kurt pressed his lips tightly against one another, staring at some text at the screen like he was reading it even though the reality was he was so lost in his own mind that he couldn't even make out the words on the screen clearly. This wasn't fair. He had never done anything to deserve this fate, and neither had his dad for that matter. His whole life had been that way though, one problem after another. His mom dying, realizing he was gay, the voice that never dropped, the wings. He could never seem to catch a break, and certainly wasn't going to hope for one now.
Eventually Blaine's eyes fell away from Kurt's wings, realising he wasn't going to get a continuation of the conversation, and the computer he was at was switched off as Blaine stood. "If it's alright, I'm going to get to bed… I still have to show up at school tomorrow."
Kurt looked over, one brow cocked high, "And what am I supposed to do?"
"Sleep, rest, eat. A couple people from the league should be here by tomorrow night and we can go from there."
"What if someone shows up here that shouldn't?"
Blaine turned and tapped a couple black and white screens that were cycling through what Kurt presumed was the outside area. "If anyone parks in the area it'll start to beep and wake me up so I can check it out. The only time it's happened though is someone stopping at the side of the road to pee."
"What about your family?"
Blaine's rosy lips plumped together as he clamped them together and looked back to the screens, deftly avoiding Kurt's curious gaze, "I live here alone. It's safe Kurt."
Kurt knew by the serious tone of Blaine's voice not to question him further, at least not then. He'd eventually have to ask though. Blaine couldn't be any older than he was and living without parents, meta or not, lent itself to concerns. "Alright… not like I have a choice anyhow."
"You won't run will you?" Blaine asked, looking back towards Kurt with sudden trepidation. "I wouldn't want to see you get caught…."
"No…" Kurt shook his head, gesturing to his computer screen. "I've read enough of your documentation to see that would be asking for trouble. That case, with the woman who was a level three with cat looks and abilities… Did she really get enslaved by a drug lord and… abused?"
Blaine nodded slowly, his lower lip rolling into his mouth as he nibbled it over. "Yeah. Guy was a total creep and crazy… thought that having her brought him luck… Kurt, with your wings, I'd be worried about the religious freaks trying something the same with you."
Kurt drew his wings in even tighter against him, reflecting back on the article. The woman had been raped and used in weird rituals to try and please whatever god it was they believed in. As if he couldn't hate his wings more. "I'll stay."
Blaine nodded, and pointed up the stairs, "Just wake me if you need something. Otherwise, help yourself to anything. Bathroom is upstairs too."
Kurt watched Blaine leave and then turned back to the files, going through them until they began to all blur together. Case after case of meta's showing up dead after disappearing, locals beating up on kids who had displayed abilities once puberty hit, meta's who had been shipped to the island to live out their lives if it was decided that they wouldn't have the ability to escape it, and those that were incarcerated, sometimes with extreme measures being taken to keep them from using their abilities - like being kept in chains or constantly drugged.
The league was starting to look real good by comparison. If only because they didn't have so much documentation on them.
After a couple more hours, Kurt returned to the bed he had awoken in earlier, curling up with his wings pressed to the wall to keep them still. He wasn't used to having them free and was finding them to be a bother, his feet tripping over them even though he only had a few steps to make. He would try to sleep, hope that nightmares of his dad, the fire, and what he had been reading would look him over for now, and let him have a moment of peace. His body did one better than that though, letting him drift off the moment he hit the pillow and sleeping devoid of dreams until that soft, sweet voice beckoned him awake.
"Kurt? Kurt?"
Kurt's eyes snapped open and between recognizing that Blaine was waking him, and that his wings were trying to spread out all over the place regardless of how he had tried to push them against the wall, he acknowledged to himself that he had gotten the dreamlessness he had wanted, for a few hours even.
Wings were crunched tightly back against his spine as he sat up with a little grunt, pulling the sheet over him just as Blaine reached over to brush his fingertips over the skin of Kurt's arm, causing a warm tingle to cascade up Kurt's skin and make the newly grown hairs bristle.
"You look… so much better… wow…."
Kurt remembered how he had last seen his arm, red and bubbled, and now glanced down to see that his skin had returned to its natural color and that the bubbles had virtually disappeared. He hadn't looked at his own face since he had come to Blaine's home, and didn't intend to until he knew he was completely fine again. Healing abilities or not, he didn't want to see any disfigurements on top of everything else that had happened.
"Doesn't it hurt to keep your wings against you all the time?"
Blaine's question prompted Kurt to look from where his eyes had become glued to Blaine's fingers on his skin and glance up at Blaine with eyebrows lifting up in question. "What?"
"Well, I just know if I sit in the same position for too long I get sore. Don't your wings get sore being held against your back so much and so tightly?"
Kurt shrugged up his shoulders, looking back down at himself again. Hair was growing back in, as faint and thin as it had been before on his arms and legs. "I'm used to it."
"They go everywhere when you sleep though… like they're making up for how bundled you keep them during the day…"
Kurt sighed and looked back to the appendages in questions, mentally cursing their unconscious rebelliousness. "I usually belt them up at night so they don't do that."
"When do you let them free then?"
"Never."
He could tell Blaine didn't approve by the way one of those bushy, black caterpillar eyebrows shot up and nothing more was said. Blaine was back in his schoolboy costume, all navy, white and neatly put-together. The curls that had sprung free the night before were all carefully hidden under a layer of gel and the scent of musk that Kurt had gotten used to over the course of the last day had been replaced with something distinctly fruity.
"I just wanted to let you know I'm on my way out. I'll be back as soon as I can after Warbler practice. If the perimeter alarm goes off, check the camera's. If it looks suspicious, pull down the board at the top of the stairs, bolt it, and stay down here."
Kurt nodded in acknowledgement, hoping that wouldn't need to happen. His plan for the day was to go back to sleep, then find a shower and use it, and then see if Blaine had anything he could properly wear.
Of course, the instant Blaine left, Kurt couldn't fall back asleep, mind running laps with so many different thoughts he couldn't focus on any specific one, so he ascended the stairs and looked over the board Blaine had spoken about. True, it was a board, but on the surface side there was a rug glued onto it with a table also securely affixed, currently resting on its side since the basement stairs were opened. When closed, it would look like there was no basement entrance, just a table sitting on a rug. Clever.
The rest of the house was just as anyone else's home might look. Pictures on the wall of what must have been a younger Blaine with an older brother and a pair of parents, all of them always smiling toothily in the photos. A fridge with milk that was too old and a collection of take-out that needed to be tossed in the garbage. The bedroom bed was a disheveled mess of blankets, sheets, and pillows, and the floor was a clutter of dirty laundry. Clearly Blaine wasn't worried about someone bursting into the home while he was away because he had his costume strewn over the counter of his bathroom, openly advertising to anyone who might see it that Nightbird lived here.
Kurt helped himself to a thorough shower in that bathroom, letting the remnants of the soot that had coated his body to slip through the drain as he scrubbed and then scrubbed again until he was sure he was free of the last bit of the fire on him. Then he raided through Blaine's wardrobe without guilt, finding more superhero pajamas than he thought could exist, and finally settling on a tank top and a pair of sweatpants. It was definitely not his usual fare, but Blaine was shorter than him, and Kurt already had to buy clothing that was a couple sizes larger to put the wings into.
He also found a few belts and used them to bind his wings against him. Blaine had asked the question earlier, and Kurt ultimately hadn't given him an answer, but it did ache to hold his wings in like that all the time. Binding them back with belts meant he didn't have to focus on doing it consciously all the time.
The rest of the day was spent tidying up. Not because he wanted to, or he felt like he owed it to Blaine, but because it gave him something to do. The washer and dryer went all day, and Kurt had to wonder if Blaine had ever used it before given how pristine it looked and how many dirty clothes he had piled up. The fridge and freezer were cleaned out and wiped down, resulting in a couple bags of garbage being set by the door for Blaine to take out when he got home. The beds made, with sheets straight out of store packages that Kurt found in a linen closet. Everything was dusted, and everything was put straight. By the time Kurt was done, it was well after when school should have ended and he had to give himself another shower to rid himself of the sweat he had collected over his skin from working all day.
He watched the news then, confused as to how he had gone from being the top story the night before, to not being mentioned at all now. One station was talking about how a moose had been found rummaging in someone's garbage, while another station was going on about some government economic policy. He had hoped for some glimpse of his dad again, but it seemed interest in him had gone away overnight in favor of more trivial things.
"Hey. Sorry I ran late. Brought home groceries -" Blaine yelled out when the door opened. Kurt hadn't heard the perimeter alarm go off, and hoped that it was working and just had some sort of exception to Blaine's car. Standing, he went to meet Blaine and take some of the brown bags filled with real food from him while Blaine looked around the main floor with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Did you clean my house?"
"Yes. It was disgusting." Kurt said simply, emptying the bags onto the counter and then sorting the food into what he decided was the proper place for it.
Blaine followed after him with the remainder of the bags, looking the place up and down as if he didn't recognize it and then letting his gaze fall on Kurt, or rather, Kurt's wings. "You didn't have to do that…"
"I needed something to do." was the curt reply given.
"Well.. thanks… I see you helped yourself to some clothes and… belts…" Blaine's voice dropped for that last word, clearly dismayed at Kurt's choice. Thankfully though, he didn't linger on it. "... That's good. I should have shown you where that all was."
"It's okay. I explored."
"Isabelle and Elliott should be here in an hour, give or take. They're coming from New York to meet you. I would've picked them up but there's no room in the Prius for their luggage so they're just going to rent a van."
"How long are they staying that they'll have that much luggage?" Kurt queried, making the assumption that the two people Blaine was mentioning were the league members Blaine had said were coming in the night before.
To that, Blaine gave a shrug in response. "I don't know. Honestly… most meta's I know discovered their powers at puberty and got in with the league through connections they had. You're kind of unprecedented… being able to hide for so long."
"I'm also famished." Kurt said, turning back to the food he had left on the counter and pointedly changing the subject. "Do you mind if I use your kitchen to cook?"
"No! Not at all. I can help if you want. You don't have to cook. I mean, you are my guest."
Kurt wrinkled up his nose, glancing back at the garbage bags and then to Blaine, who was following his eyes, "I see how you "cook". I'm quite happy to prepare something myself."
Blaine nodded, taking the garbage bags out as Kurt had hoped he would, and then excusing himself for a shower and to change. Kurt had been lonely all day by himself, but there was something about being with someone else in such an awkward situation that made him feel even more lonely. He didn't feel like he could talk openly, and wasn't sure what to say. He ached to have his dad close, the only person he had ever opened up to, and only now was realizing how vital his dad had been not only for helping hide his wings, but also for his sanity.
"Oh god.. that smells like my grandma's cooking…" Blaine said by way of announcing himself as he reentered the kitchen and crouched to peek at the shepard's pie through the oven window. "Oh… I haven't had that in years…"
Kurt smiled with the compliment, or at least what he hoped was a compliment as he washed lettuce for the salad. "I did a lot of the cooking at home. Didn't go out much after all, so I became a reasonably good house-son."
"Your dad was clearly spoiled…" Blaine said as he stood back up. "How about I set the table?"
Kurt glanced back to the table, still on its side so the basement was exposed. "Yeah. Go do that."
Blaine was capable though, bringing down the heavy table and adjusting the rug so it looked like there was nothing else there. Four chairs were brought in from a storage room and set around the table, and then he carefully set out the freshly cleaned dishes that Kurt had painstakingly scrubbed that afternoon from where they had been living in the sink.
"This is great… I haven't had a real sit down dinner in… well… a long time." Blaine grinned, teeth taking over the bottom half of his face much the same as the younger version of himself in the photos hung on the wall as he looked over the kitchen with his hands on his hips as if he had just conquered an empire.
"I imagine balancing a life of being a prep school idol and a costumed crime fighter leaves little time for proper nutrition." Kurt noted playfully.
Blaine made a short, stilted chuckle, and then went about grabbing condiments for the table. A casual bit of banter was struck up between them as Kurt chastised him for wanting to put ketchup on his shepherd's pie and Blaine insisting it was the best way to eat it. It was almost reminiscent of the idle chatter between him and his father when they were about to have dinner, but the difference was that his wings were never out and he had never considered the company particularly attractive before.
A chirruping alarm went off though, reminding Kurt that this wasn't the simple meal his brain had momentarily tricked him into thinking it was, and Blaine checked the cameras, letting Kurt know that it was Isabelle and Elliott on their way into the grounds. That brought Kurt's heart rate back up and he resumed silently placing the hot dishes on the table and waiting for their guests to arrive.
"Hey man! Long time no see!" was the first voice Kurt heard when Blaine went to open the door. There was a smacking sound followed by a few pats as Blaine must have gone in for a hug with the guy, or vice versa, and then a woman's voice echoing the man's with "It's good to see you my sweet Blaine."
Kurt hung out in the kitchen for the greetings, too nervous to make himself directly known, and excusing himself by means of pouring drinks. He couldn't stay hidden forever though, and, after a moment of shared compliments between Blaine and the league members, Kurt found himself being introduced to the pair.
"Elliott Gilbert. Street name Starchild." The tattooed up man said, grabbing Kurt's hand in a firm shake as soon as he laid eyes on him. He was taller than Kurt, almost as tall as the arch of his wings were, and had deeply dark hair and eyes which were looking Kurt up and down - but most up as he oogled the wings. Kurt returned the handshake with a meek smile and then looked over to the other guest, and finding he needed no introduction.
"You're Isabelle Wright! You came up with the Prima Donna line! I love your work!" Her hand was clutched and shaken enthusiastically while Blaine and Elliott shared a look, both with mirrored eyebrow rises. It was in that split second that Kurt realized he wasn't only meeting an idol of his, but someone from the league, which meant...
"Wait. You're a meta? How? How can you lead a public life and..."
Isabelle was gracious with the flattery and Kurt's fawning over her, gesturing to the table. "How about we talk about that over dinner? It looks lovely."
"I'm a level one meta Kurt." Isabelle explained as they sat themselves down and began helping themselves to the meal. "I'm not a threat to anyone, the economy, or myself, which means the government allows me to lead my life almost normally..."
"Then why..." Kurt sighed, trying to consider his words so as not to offend her or the men at the table with them.
"Why bother to get involved with meta-action if I'm apparently not hurt by it?" Isabelle offered, and Kurt gave her a little nod. "Because what the government says they do and what they actually do are two very different things."
"I gave myself up for registration when it was clear the extent of my abilities were limited to changing the color of my hair and eyes. A very nifty power for a fashion oriented teenager, to be sure, but a meta all the same. They told me that as part of the process they'd run some tests, put in a monitoring device, and that, unless I was given a special pass, I couldn't leave the country. It didn't seem like a big deal at the time, so I agreed to it. I spent a good week woozy and disoriented in a facility of theirs, which they claimed was part of the testing process, only to discover years later that I had my tubes clamped without consent."
"They can do that?" Kurt balked, looking at the other two guys at the table, who had apparently already heard the story and were nodding sadly.
"Yes. They don't tell you, and it's not a part of their official policy. I found out by accident when I got really sick at this dive in Lima called Breadstix and wound up in the hospital getting my stomach probed. The doctor was clearly new or just that unfamiliar with meta's, because he asked why I had gotten my tubes tied so young."
With the direction of the story, Kurt couldn't even force a smile at the mention of Breadstix. It was too hard to consider that the government would castrate its own people, and for what?
"So I sought out other level one's and with the aid of the league, we did testing. Everyone that's submitted to the government for registration has been neutered. It's not enough to limit and throw out our human rights, but they don't even want us to consider procreating."
"I'm... sorry." Kurt mumbled, unclear on what else could be said.
"It's okay. I never intended to have kids anyhow... but they took that choice away from me. There are meta's who had been trying for years to have kids, only to discover that not only are they infertile, but that their doctors have been covering up the knowledge that they have been clamped or snipped because of government interference. It's not right."
"Anyhow, sob stories aside -" Elliott glanced over at Isabelle, who gave him a good-natured wink in return to his interruption before he looked to Kurt. "We brought out all the gear to do tests on you."
"Ah... after what Isabelle said just now... I don't know if..."
"You'll be completely conscious for all of them Kurt. We just want to know the limits of your abilities so that you can know how to handle them." Isabelle offered quickly, reaching over to set a hand on top of Kurt's. It had been a long time since Kurt had been soothed, or tried to been soothed, by the touch of a woman, and for a moment he flashed back to his mother doing the same thing for him as a child.
"Can we talk.. more... first?" Kurt asked finally, pulling his hand away from Isabelle and her soft, nostalgia inducing skin. He couldn't be prone to making rash decisions because someone brought out the softie in him.
"Of course. What would you like to know?"
Kurt glanced across the table at Elliott after Isabelle posed the question. "What about you? What do you do?"
"By day? Or do you mean abilities?"
Kurt shrugged, catching Blaine watching him out of the corner of his eye as he ate quietly. "Both I guess."
"By day I'm a student at NYU. I teach yoga at a gym part time, and I'm trying to find a band to join. By night I'm a level two wannabe crimefighter named Starchild. I can generate multi-colored energy plamoids at will which I can use to shock, disrupt, or light up an area."
"Multi-colored... plas...moids...?" Kurt repeated, glancing to Blaine for what he hoped would be a more clear explanation.
"Like Jubilee before she went all vampire in X-men!" Blaine offered, which really didn't help Kurt at all, so he turned to Isabelle in hopes that she would provide better clarity.
"Our dear Starchild shoots fireworks out of his hands." Isabelle offered, smirking to herself as she looked at the other two boys at the table and shook her head. "You get used to the technical terminology after awhile Kurt... I personally think they use it to make themselves sound cooler than they really are."
"Fireworks?" Kurt snorted, and then couldn't help but let out a chuckle which he promptly shushed by clamping a hand over his mouth as he glanced guiltily at Elliott whose nose had wrinkled up and lips had clenched together.
"It's right out of the comics Kurt." Blaine noted, apparently to offer credence to how cool Elliott and Blaine thought Elliott's abilities were.
"Uh huh..." Kurt turned to Isabelle then, deciding that if he wanted any straight answers it was going to be best to ask the woman who clearly spoke his own language. "What does the league do?"
"Our goals are primarily to push for our human rights, since, abilities aside, our DNA is otherwise completely congruent with that of "normal" humans and as such we should get the same rights. We also try to demonstrate to normal humans that we can do more good than harm by means of the crime fighting whenever we can, and we offer a help and support group to other meta's. In my case, my abilities don't really allow for fighting crime, so I help more with organizational efforts."
Kurt nodded slowly with everything Isabelle said. In his head it sounded good, and he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for her to tell him that by agreeing to be tested that he'd have to commit his life to the league, or maybe even pay some kind of monthly tithe. She was silent though after giving Kurt a response, going back to eating the salad on her plate and looking up at him periodically to see if he had more questions for her.
"How are you funded?"
Isabelle swallowed her mouthful of food and licked over her teeth, as any vanity conscious individual would do to ensure there was no food on them before speaking, before giving reply this time. "You're worried we're some cash cult? No... we have benefactors. Meta's who are so high up the economic food chain that they fund us to ensure they have somewhere to go or someone to help them if they're exposed. Some just give because it ensures they have someone to talk to about their abilities. We also offer counselling in that way... if you're interested."
Kurt quickly shook his head. They might be meta's, but they had no idea about what he had experienced. For starters, they all still looked human at least. They could still hide in plain sight. He'd never be able to do that, especially since he had been publicly exposed.
"So here's the plan." Elliott said, whatever offense he had suffered by Kurt's earlier laugh at his expense forgotten. "We run the tests, spend a few days getting to know one another, and then you can stay with Blaine here and decide what your next steps are."
"What kinds of next steps are we talking about?"
"Well, you could move to one of the bigger cities where we have more of our people. We have our own rather large plot of land in northern Canada where some meta's have moved to that want to stay out of human involvement… but for you…."
"Yeah?"
"I personally think you're best to stay here with Blaine for as long as possible."
"What?"
"Why?" Blaine asked, forkful of food hovering outside his mouth where it had been ready to go in until Elliott started talking.
"Because, dear boys,..." Isabelle broke in. "You two would compliment one another perfectly."