The Proper Way to Be There - Because He Needs Me

For once, the title has nothing whatsoever to do with Kurt...

Not for the first time in my life I woke up somewhere I hadn't taken myself to, though the room itself was familiar by then.

I went through all the familiar motions: pick myself up from the cot, walk to the sink in the corner, splash some water on my face until I no longer looked like a murder victim, dry my skin with a cheap paper towel that was too rough for comfort, grab my backpack off the floor, leave to find my father.

Well, find isn't exactly the right word. I knew exactly where he would be. They called it the Big Computer Room, or the BCR, which was exactly what it was; a bigger-than-fuck room with hundreds of computers used for surveillance and information gathering. It was the room where Logan Knox's first big telekinetic outburst had been documented for all to see. The footage had been taken from the surveillance cameras SIIPA had placed all around the Knox's home, permission for which had been granted by Marissa Knox herself. Just hours after she had given birth to Logan, Knox had been given two options: either agree to have the cameras installed or lose custody of her only son and child. I could see why she had agreed to the cameras. 

The entire facility ran from that room, which was why it was crawling with people. Picture one of the Houston-we-have-a-problem rooms in the space travel movie of your choice-you know, the room that looks like a giant amphitheater for computers, each one of the computers manned by a little bald guy with thick glasses, and that's almost exactly what the BCR looks like. Only, I like to call our mousy computer guys zombies because unlike in the movies, they look skittish and have circles under their eyes that are dark enough to look fake. 

My father smiled when he saw me, a triumphant look that meant he had found Norman Wilkes. He was standing at the highest level of the room, facing the giant screen in the center of the room, which showed a picture of a kind faced, silver haired man, probably in his late sixties-sure enough, the name NORMAN WILKES stood out in bold red at the bottom of the screen, directly under the man's picture.  

"We've got a lead," my father told me, looking excited as he gestured to the screen. "The agency in Maine is sending two teams to investigate. If they find the boy, they'll have to send him to our facility on account of him being a minor, so the case is still well within in our jurisdiction."

I didn't respond, because what was the point really? Nothing I could say would change the fact that in less than twenty-four hours, SIIPA agents would storm into wherever Wilkes was hiding and steal away the child he had been given to protect, probably killing the man in the process if he put up a fight. I couldn't envision a scenario that didn't end up with Wilkes dead. Undoubtedly he would put up a fight-Marrissa Knox wouldn't have left her son with just anybody, but no one was a match for fourteen trained agents with guns, most of them probably with an ability that was useful in combat. They would point their guns and yell our demands and blood would flow. They would traumatize little Logan Knox even more than he already was, ensuring that he grew up to be more fucked-up-crazy than a bag full of cats. And I had helped make it happen.

One day, in the future, some poor soul would find me dead in a dumpster with a bullet between my eyes or worse.

But not today, I told myself.

I swung my backpack forward and unzipped the front pocket. I took out the access card Jenifer had given me and the smile slipped from my father's face. With his neck muscles taught with tension, he took it and handed it off to the computer zombie closest to him. "Grant him access."

The zombie floundered at the command, his hands frozen over his keyboard as he gaped up at my father with wide, panicked eyes. He looked like he might piss himself. These guys weren't known for their kickass social skills. "I-uh... to where.... Sir?"

My father smiled kindly at him, looking like the poster boy for patience. "Relax, son. To Level 5."

The man didn't relax. "I... I don't-I'm new."

My father dropped a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Hey, calm down. Let's see if we can get someone to show you how it's done..." He scanned the crowd and signaled to a woman with a clipboard overseeing the workers. She caught the signal and immediately began making her way over. "There now, see? No harm done. I would show you myself, but I doubt your computer would survive the attempt." He chuckled at himself and the man followed his lead, laughing nervously.

"Something I can help you with, Mr. Anderson?" the woman with the clipboard asked once she was only a few feet away.

"Yes, Susan. We have a computer issue... What's your name, son?"

"Denson, Sir."

My father gave him another reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Do you think you could show Denson here how to alter the access codes on a visitor card? My son, Blaine, needs to get to Level 5."

Have you ever heard of Howard Gardner's multiple intelligences? If you haven't, it's not a big deal because I'll explain. My father has what Gardner calls intrapersonal intelligence. Generally, people who have strong intrapersonal intelligence have exceptional charisma; something my father has an abundance of. He knows how to charm people into liking him; how to get a positive response out of them by molding himself into the shape of someone they would gladly follow. He is a natural born leader-a dangerous talent for a man like my father to have.

The drone turned shyly back to my father to hand him the newly altered key card.

My father smiled as he took it. "Perfect. Thank you both for this."

Denson looked at him with relief in eyes, and something else that bordered on admiration. All in under five minutes. It was pathetic.

"Come on, Blaine. I'll walk you to the elevator." He led the way without waiting for a reply. Because he still had my visitor's card in his hand, I had no choice but to follow him obediently. He enjoyed controlling me in small ways, just like I enjoyed pissing him off in others. It was a completion that we had started a long time ago, both of us constantly trying our hardest to remain one small step ahead of the other. We were alike in that respect.

"I don't know why you insist on doing this to yourself each month," he said when I had finally caught up to him. We walked side by side, both of us staring straight ahead. He smiled at everyone who passed by, open and friendly. The tone of his voice was just as friendly and cheery as his easy smiles, but there was a very slight, very subtle pull, one that strained to exert power I would only grant him in the figurative sense. "It's a waste of your time. You're only setting yourself up to be disappointed. You would do a lot better to return to Dalton once your work here is done for the day."

"Work." I snorted. "That's rich."

He sighed in that condescending way adults reserve for children and shook his head, telling me he thought I was being silly. "What else would you call it, Blaine? It is work, and important work at that. You're working to keep people safe. You should be proud."

"Proud that I just ruined two people's lives forever. Right. And work implies the opposite of what this is."

"Really," he said, sounding a fraction annoyed that time. "And what would that be?"

We had finally reached the elevators, the ones that only went down from this point, programmed not to stop at any floors that were above ground. The little red light on the scanner blinked as if begging us to swipe the card that would turn it green, but it would have to wait. He still had my clearance card in his hand and he didn't look like he was ready to hand it over.

He stood looking at me with his arms folded; his body and facial features arranged into a neat, clean cut, I'm waiting expression.

I gave him the truth. "Blackmail. Extortion. Take your pick."

At first he did nothing and we simply stared at each other. Then without warning, his hand was wrapped around my bicep in an instant, squeezing the muscle underneath my skin tightly in his fist.

A tid bit about my father: he and I look nothing alike. He's tall and large, I'm not. I take after my mother, who is soft and petite. I was short when I was sixteen (not that I'm very much taller now) and my father towered over me with an enormity I knew I could never hope to achieve.

"Careful, Blaine," he warned. "I have the power to lock Cooper away in a hole so far down that even the bugs won't find him, much less you."

He yanked me closer to him and I went without a fight and stared into his eyes, but kept my mouth locked tight. He stared back at me with amusement in his eyes at my refusal to drop mine. "Don't forget who's in control here."

"You do realise you've just proved my point," I said in a bored tone.

His answering grin was snide; like how a giant might look at an ant he was about to step on. I was glad he found me so entertaining.

Without looking away from me, he held the card over the detector until the red light turned green and then pressed the card into my hand. He released my arm with a slight push but I managed not to stumble back. I backed slowly into the elevator, refusing to break our stare until the closing doors forced me to.

The pissing contest over, I slumped back to rest against the wall and did my best to ignore the swooping sensation in my stomach as the elevator went down. The back of my head hurt. The inside felt worse, but only minimally so-not an easy feat. Knox should be proud of herself.

I forced myself to think about something else.

I hoped the movie turned out to be as awful as Santana made it sound. I was at the point where it would take something truly spectacular to amuse me.

When the elevator came to a stop I got out and began the familiar stroll through Level 5.

For those of you who are wondering, Level 5 is like a mad house. There are science-y types running around all over the place with clipboards in their hands and lab coats hanging off their shoulders. Personnel people rush from one place to another to put a stop to whatever catastrophe there was that was taking place that day. For those of you who haven't guessed it, Level 5 is where they keep the D5s, or the preternaturals whose abilities are considered to be so dangerous that they have the institutionalized for safety reasons.

As I said before D4s are institutionalized as well, but on reservations. D4s are allowed full mobility so long as they stay within the confinements of the reservation they are assigned to. D5s, however, live in holding cells that are designed to look like small studio apartments, only sans the kitchen aspect of studio apartment living because all meals around brought to their rooms.

Level 5 itself is huge. After going down a long corridor, I had to take a second elevator down to Block E, which was where I would find Cooper.

When I got there, I stopped at the reception desk, where a man I had never seen before sat.

"I'm here to see Cooper Anderson in Room 7F," I told him.

He didn't look up from his computer. "Card," he said, holding out his hand.

I handed it to him and he swiped it and read over the information that came up on his computer, nodding to himself. "I see that it says here you've visited this D5 several times before, but I am required to go through some specifics regardless. According to your card you've got four hours, but you may leave any time before that should you wish. Also, should the D5 in that cell need to be restrained by our staff for any reason, you will have to leave for the day, even if it is before your four hours are up." He handed me back the card. "Go to the door there and swipe the card when I tell you."

I nodded silently and waited for his signal, though I already knew the procedure. The door buzzed to signal the lock's release and slid open. I walked through.

Coopers room was on the right, third door down. One of the two guards let me in-I recognized neither-but only after instructing Cooper through the glass to stand on the opposite side of the room, which he did immediately. I walked inside, the guard closed the door behind me, and I saw my brother for the first time in 30 days. Standing with an easy going smile in a crisp, cool-gray, three piece suit, he looked completely out of place in the small, boring room I had stepped in.

"Hey, little brother." Cooper grinned easily at me, as if we weren't surrounded by locks and guards and white washed walls, standing in a room with zero personality.

Cooper shook his head, chuckled. "Okay, that's just not true." His grin widened. "We me standing in it, this room has all the personality it can handle."

I grinned despite myself and rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

He laughed and pulled me in for a hug, easily tucking his chin over the top of my head. He grabbed a fistful of my T-shirt in one hand and hugged me tight with the arm attached to the other. "I missed you."

Missed you, too, I thought, partly because I didn't trust myself to speak at that moment and partly because I knew he would just read my mind anyway, whether he wanted to or not. He didn't have the choice.

He let me go with an audible sniff. "So. What did you and Santana find for us to watch this time?" he asked with his back towards me and his voice a little thick as he fiddled with the television that was bolted to the wall, like everything else in Cooper's room-the bed, the desk, the furniture, everything.  

I didn't bother answering because he undoubtedly already knew, having heard my automatic mental response to the question as soon as he asked.

He turned to look at me confusedly. "Have we seen Troll 1?" he asked. Then a second later, "Ah." He nodded. "Interesting. Can't say I've ever seen the sequel to a movie that doesn't exist. Make sure you tell Santana the next time you see her that she's amazing." He paused. "Well, tell her again, then. This time tell her it's from me, of course."

Talking with Cooper was exactly how you might imagine talking to a mind reader would be. It felt a little pointless because he instantly knew exactly what you were thinking, which was extremely frustrating sometimes because eventually you got to the point where you just wanted to scream JUST LET ME FUCKING TALK ALREADY in his face, but Cooper had never been one to apologize for himself. He was a lot like Kurt in that way, which was of course a very stupid thing to think about in that moment.

"Kurt? Who's Kurt?"

My mind gave Cooper a very extensive answer as to who Kurt was and Cooper's eyes widened. "You told him that much already?" he asked, surprise all over his face. "How long have you known-four days? Jesus, Blaine. You're like the most socially handicapped person I know. You never open up to people that fast."

I shrugged and refused to meet Cooper's eyes. I busied myself with unzipping my backpack and pulling out the DVD inside.

Cooper studied me closely as he took the case from my hands. "Do you... like him?"

I sighed and Cooper's eyebrows went skyward at the onslaught of mental images I couldn't stop myself from picturing. Each and every single one of them was sappy, right down to how beautiful I thought each individual color of his eyes was. It was pretty mortifying.

"Wow... I-Blaine, I really don't know what to say to..." he struggled to find a word, "...all of that."

I sighed again. "Don't make a big deal out of it, alright? I'll get over it eventually. Like you said, I've only known him for four days."

"Hey, don't knock love at first sight, little brother."

I scowled at that. "Don't be stupid."

"Who's being stupid? I'm completely serious."

"I know-that's what's stupid."

Cooper scoffed. "Love at first sight is real, Blaine. It's in the movies," he said with a straight face, but I could see the amusement in his eyes.

I snorted. Typical Cooper Response.

"But seriously," Cooper said. "I've never seen you picture someone that way before. For once, it sounded calm and content in that crazy mind of yours..." He smiled a small, sad smile. "It was a nice change."

I didn't know what to say to that.

He sighed. "You don't have to say anything. It's just..." He frowned and looked down at the DVD case he had staring turning over repeatedly in his hands. "I-I need you to be happy..." he said softly. I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off. "‘Alright' isn't happy, Blaine. Alright is just alright."

I didn't say anything. There wasn't any way for me to argue.

Cooper let out of soft huff, shook his head at himself. He looked up at me finally. "How's your head by the way?"

I shrugged. "It hurts."

"A lot?" he asked, and I grimaced.

He nodded sadly and suddenly it was his turn to stay silent.

"We gonna watch that, or what?" I asked, trying to get us out of the hole we had dug.

"Y-" he stopped, took a breath, tried again. "Yeah."