Blaine settled himself quietly next to Kurt, casting a cursory glance around the coffee shop. It was mostly empty, which wasnt a huge surprise given that it was 9:30a on a Tuesday.  He had three drinks with him, the first he placed in front of Kurt, passed the second over to the man across from them, and settled his drip in front of him. Blaine had considered not getting himself anything for proprieties sake, but he knew it would make Kurt feel better if he did. Also, the coffee smelled amazing and he really needed a caffeine fix.

The man across from them shuffled a few papers back and forth, gathering a notebook and pen before glancing over at Kurt through his glasses. He was a reporter, assigned to do a piece on Kurt Hummel. Nothing new, there. Blaine usually accompanied Kurt to interviews because it looked good for the successful designer to have one of his models on hand as eye candy.  Also, it was a chance to get away for a little while and the couple was planning on taking the day for themselves afterwards.

The reporter didnt look particularly happy to be there, Blaine decided. The man wasnt being rude, exactly, but it was clear as he started in on the routine questions that this wasnt the kind of piece hed prefer to be working on. He had sharp, clear blue eyes that radiated intelligence and wore a slightly sardonic smile that Blaine would never admit to Kurt that he found oddly hot. Hed been waiting for them when Kurt and Blaine arrived, the work area in front of him already cluttered.

As the interview wore on, Blaine found that more and more frequently the reporters eyes would glance his way. Sometimes it seemed to him like the man had to force himself to stay on topic.  It wasnt all that unusual, every aspect of Blaines appearance had been tailored to be attractive and desirable, but the man wasnt looking at him with the typical eye-fucking that meant Im picturing you naked on your knees.  Blaine found interest disconcerting and was eager for the interview to be over. Kurt also noticed the attention, deliberately saying things to pull focus back to himself, or on several occasions shifting in his chair to put his body slightly in front of Blaine.

"Mr. Phillips," Kurt eventually said sharply when the reporters gaze had lingered on Blaine too long, not bothering to hide his annoyance.  Blaines eyes were glued to his mug and his body was stiff.  He was clearly fighting against hunching his shoulders protectively.

"My understanding was that we were meeting so that you could interview me, not ogle my slave.  Im well aware that hes a beauty, but if we could complete the interview Id appreciate it."  Kurt didnt want Blaine out of his sight, they were far from the relative safety of their neighborhood, but if this continued hed ask Blaine to wait outside until they were done. Or just leave, himself. That last option was beginning to sound more and more appealing.

The reporter drew himself up abruptly at Kurts words, clearly not realizing what hed been doing. His blue eyes took in Blaines discomfiture, before turning his full attention back to Kurt. "Im sorry, I didnt mean to upset you.  Or him."  He glanced down at his notebook, working out what he had been planning to say next.

"I just...I know you dont give many interviews, Mr. Hummel, and its flattering that you were willing to meet with me. But as interesting as your rise has been, it honestly is not the kind of subject I typically write on.  Im an investigative journalist, fashion has no appeal for me."  He didnt add, and if I didnt have to eat, Id never have accepted this job, rare opportunity or not.

"Clearly," Kurt murmured wryly, eyes the reporters plain plaid shirt and jeans. The reporter chose to ignore the statement, turning his attention back to Blaine.

"Now, the slave on the other hand," the man said, pointing his pen Blaines direction.  "He has my spidey senses tingling." Pitching his voice to be authoritative, he stared hard at Blaine.  "Whats your designation, boy?" 

"A0919," Blaine replied automatically. He silently cursed himself. He didnt have to answer, and it was none of the mans business. Damn conditioning.

"Speak to him again and this interview is over," Kurt told the reporter, warning in his tone, his blue grey eyes turning stormy in anger.

"AO9?" The reporter ignored Kurt. Carson had a lifetimes worth of experience dealing with threats and Hummel wasnt even a blip on his radar.  "Youre a zero?  Is that even legal?  Do you know how old were you when you were acquired? Where are you from?  Do you remember your real name?"  Carson threw out the questions rapid fire, looking for a reaction as much as a reply. The slave didnt answer.

Blaines silence didnt bother him in the least.  The narrowing of the slaves eyes told him everything Carson needed to know.  He did remember.  Oh, this had potential.  Carson had noticed how the boy turned to his master for support. Slaves curled in on themselves when cornered, trying to be as small and submissive as they could get. This one stayed strong, nervous but not really afraid, and his body reached toward his master when stressed.  He watched as Hummel moved to place himself in Carsons line of site, not to gain attention, but to protect.  Even more interesting.

"Enough!" Kurt announced.  "Blaine, go wait in the car, Ill be along in a minute."  Blaine rose to obey, looking relieved.

Carson stood quickly, blocking the slaves path.  "Look, Blaine. Its obvious that you have quite a story. One that probably needs telling. And thats what I do. I bring the truth to light, even when its uncomfortable or unpopular.  Just think about it, will you?  And dont bother pretending you need your masters permission to talk to me. We both know thats not the case."  Blaine cocked his head, clearly weighing Carsons words in his mind. 

Carson pulled out one of his cards, extending it to the slave.  "My phone and email are on the card. Call me when youve made a decision."  Carsons suspicions about the slaves status were further confirmed when Blaine reached out and took the card without turning to get Kurts permission first.  Pocketing the card, he quickly stepped around Carson and headed for the parking lot.

Hummel got into his space, looking much more forbidding then Carson would have thought possible for the cherub faced young man.  "That is more than enough from you. Blaine has taken more crap in his life than anyone ever should and hes finally, finally, in a good place.  Leave him be.  You should have more than enough information for my article. If you have any other questions about Hummel Designs, email me."

"Dont you think that choice should be up to him?"  Carson asked, raising an eyebrow.

Kurt sighed, glancing worriedly out into the parking lot. After a moment, he left without answering.

As the designer walked away, Carson watched the pair get in the car.  His eyes gleamed with the feverish dedication that made him the crackerjack freelance reporter that he was. He needed to get back to his office so he could start researching. A0919. It was a start.
***************

Days later, Kurt walked into his office to see Blaine casually sitting on one of the cozy client chairs, staring distantly at the far wall as he absently twirled something in his fingers. As he closed the distance, Kurt saw that it was the battered card that the reporter had given Blaine back after the interview.

"Youre quiet," Kurt commented, pressing a soft kiss to Blaines cheek as he plopped down beside him.

"Yeah, sorry." Blaine pulled himself back to the present and the card disappeared into a pocket.  "Ive just been thinking."  He dredged up an honest smile for his boyfriend. Blaine needed to stop thinking about freaking Carson Phillips and focus instead on the beautiful man whod come to take him out to dinner.

Kurt leaned forward and pulled him into a hug. "Whatever you decide, sweetie, I have your back." 

Blaine sighed, hugging back and absorbing his lovers warmth and closeness. "I know."
**************

Carson was frustrated.  More than frustrated, he was getting angry. He plopped his feet up on the desk of his cramped little office, glaring balefully at the screensaver of his laptop. This wasnt supposed to be so impossible a task. But after weeks of digging, he had almost nothing on that zero-gen slave of Hummels except that the boy came out of the Omaha Rookery and was currently the personal property of Kurt Hummel.

The only other information he had managed to dig up on Blaine was that the slave was insured for great gobs of money, and had been issued a gladiatorial license. Which Carson supposed was good to know if he decided to piss the slave off, or his owner, for that matter.  It was a talent of his. 

Getting those licenses was exceedingly difficult. The thousand or so people in the country who were registered to issue a gladiatorial license hoarded the things like gold.  It meant the slave was a trained fighter and had greater leeway if he did end up causing injury.  And he could legally cause a great deal of injury if he perceived danger to his master without fear of ramifications. All of which was interesting, well deserving of investigation, and contributed absolutely nothing towards discerning the boys history. If he didnt know better, Carson would be sure that Blaine had been bred in that rookery.

Not that he was going to quit, of course. Carson Phillips didnt do that.  But perhaps it was time to go back to the source and push a little.  If Hummel even let him in the door, that is.  A knock on his office door made him jump. Carsons little hole of an office, sadly on the exact opposite end of the country where hed expected to end up, wasnt exactly public.   He didnt normally to get visitors unless he had planned meetings.

Before he could call out, the door opened and Prince Charming made flesh walked in. Well, then.  "Hello," the man greeted politely, flashing Carson a Hollywood ready smile. Which of course, was where Cooper Anderson belonged.

"Hello Mr. Anderson, welcome. Have a seat."  Carson cleared some files out a chair for the actor, beyond intrigued by the visit.  "What can I do for you?  Can I just say that Chasing Neal was brilliant?  I"ve all but memorized it." 

Cooper took the offered seat.  "Thank you. Please, call me Cooper. Not many have seen that one, though it was a pleasure to shoot."

"Plenty have seen it. Which wouldnt be the case if you hadnt shored up the leads weak spots.  Rough casting, there." 

"Tim actually did really well. It was a tough character to play." 

Carson snorted, but didnt want to persue the subject.  "Back to the point. What can I do for you, Cooper?"

Cooper leaned back a bit in the chair.  "Ive heard that youre investigating a potential story about a slave." 

Huh. Whatever Carson had been expecting, it wasnt that.  "I am, indeed."

"I have a...special relationship with Kurt Hummel. He designs all my best suits, for one thing.  And Blaine is very dear to me." 

Carson raised an eyebrow at that.  If Hummel allowed clients to use his boy the way Cooper was alluding to, then Carson had completely misread the situation.  That sat poorly with him, Carson rarely made mistakes like that.  "If you are asking me to let it go, thats really not..."

"What are you going to do with this story?"  Cooper interrupted.  "Say you find out that there is something there, maybe something big, and you get all the facts youre looking for.  Then what?  Im familiar with your work, by the way, and I know its good."

"Thank you.  And to answer your question, if I actually find something, Ill finish my piece, and try to talk Blaine into allowing me to publish it."

"What about Kurt?  And what if the answer was no?" Cooper pressed.

It was actually something Carson had spent some time considering.  The official laws and the specific dynamic were at odds in this circumstance and Carson needed to get a firm feel for who really mattered to him, permission-wise.  "If Hummel said no, that wouldnt necessarily stop me.  But without Blaines agreement, Ill bury the whole thing. If theres a story there, that means something terrible happened to someone who didnt deserve it and Im not going to heap the potential fallout from this type of story on a victim." 

"Good to know. Your instincts are sound, which Im sure you know. There is a story there." 

Carson leaned forward eagerly.  "I take it you have something for me?"

Cooper stood and handed over a card.  "This is the number to a PI.  She has some information you can use.  Plan on bribing her. She likes good coffee."  Carson accepted the card, a little disappointed.  It wasnt nothing, but hed really been hoping for something more concrete. And he didnt love PIs, preferring to do his own research.

"What else would you like?" Cooper asked curiously, seeing the reporters less than thrilled response.

"Oh, I dunno. A name, address, a school if he ever even attended one, a social security number would be great." Carson grinned.

Cooper raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow.  "Do you think an address would be all that useful?   People do move, you know.  Well, I didnt.  I lived in the house I was born in right up until I moved out to Hollywood.  But lots of people move. And if it helps, I can tell you that Blaines last name was Anderson, once upon a time."

Carson slunk on his desk dejectedly. "Fantastic. Thats only about a fifth of the population of the country.  But at least its not Smith. Cooper laughed softly.

"Come on, now.  Its not as impossible as all that. Im certain someone as clever as yourself can follow a trail from there." 

"I appreciate the vote of confidence.  And youre correct, that helps a lot. Im sorry Im being an unappreciative jerk.  Let me see you out."  Carson rose to open the door. He took Coopers hand, shaking politely.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Phillips," Cooper told him, his beautiful blue eyes twinkling.

"And you as well, Mr. Anders..." Carson froze. No. Fucking. Way.  Cooper winked before turning and quietly closing the door behind him.  The stasis landed for about 13 seconds before Carson threw himself into his chair and began frantically typing. Blaine the slave had virtually nothing to track; his slave number was a dead end.

Cooper Anderson, rising star, however...Carson clicked over to IMDB.  It was all right there, Coopers age, town of origin, and yes, even where he went to high school.  And if hed been in the same house his whole life, anyone else in that house most likely wouldve attended the same school. Carson opened a second tab to book a ticket to Ohio.
**************

"Kurt?"  Blaine poked his head around the door to Kurts office, finding it empty.  That was fine, hed be along eventually. Blaine started moving random things around on Kurts desk, more to annoy Kurt then for any other reason.

"Hey, Blaine," Dani called, walking into the office.  "This came for you."  She handed him a thick manila envelope before quickly trotting back to her station and the ringing phone.

Blaine plopped himself in Kurts chair and opened the envelope, expecting photos from his latest shoot. Hed photographed a few summer-dresses and was expecting initial images any time.  Blaine blinked down at the desk as he poured out the envelopes contents. While there were indeed photos in the envelope, he hadnt taken any of them.  They were all of him.

Blaine stared at a much younger, painfully innocent version of himself grinning for all he was worth at the camera wher he stood in front of some risers. There were other images of him actually performing.  One showed him playing the piano, his gaze focused intently on the keys. There were even a few headshots from his junior high yearbook as well as club photos of him with other kids from his class.  Most of those were shot the year before hed been taken.  There were even a few high school photos, though he hadnt been a freshman long.  Those would have been taken just months before he disappeared.

And then there were the after shots.  The three standard slave images of full frontal, side, and rear nudes that were placed online to show off the merchandise were there. He looked...blank, maybe even broken. He was definitely skinnier then hed been in the school shots and that carefree joy was gone.  Then there were hotel shots. Pics of him in the black outfit on his knees, there were even one or two of him with clients, Blaine realized distantly.  He looked so jaded, his eyes wary, skin pale bordering on sallow, and he was so very thin.

God, what had Kurt ever seen in him?  The broken, terrified sex slave in the photos bore no resemblance to the confident, healthy and happy person he was now.  It awed him a little, that Kurt had looked at that hot mess of a boy and considered anything about him worthwhile. The runway shots that had also been included in the envelope reflected what love, care, and a fully stocked kitchen had done for Blaine; he looked strong, sexy and beautiful as he posed for the cheering crowd.

The pictures werent the only things in the envelope.  A stack of neatly typed pages stapled at one corner bore his name on top.  There was also a copy of his slave paperwork, as well as an IRS contract formally consigning him as government property in exchange for release from any and all debts and legal charges concerning James and Evelyn Anderson. His parents signatures filled the two lines at the bottom.  With shaky hands, Blaine picked up the finished article and began to read.

When Kurt found him a good hour later, Blaine was curled into a tiny ball in Kurts chair, staring blankly at the wall with dried tear tracks running down his face.

"Blaine? Honey?" 

When Blaine didnt respond, Kurt stepped out long enough to tell Dani to clear his schedule for the day before quickly returning. He tugged firmly on Blaines arm.  "Come with me now, Blaine."  Kurt had no idea what had set his boyfriend off this time, but after years of handling a traumatized Blaine, Kurt knew what was needed to help him.  First thing, he needed to get Blaine to the safety of their home.

Moving by rote, Blaine rose to follow Kurts orders.  He was nearly out of the room before he suddenly tugged away from Kurts grip and spun back to the desk, loading a bunch of papers into a large envelope.  Clutching the thing against his chest, Blaine hurried back to Kurt, allowing himself to be guided the short walk to the house.

A little color had come back to his face during the walk, to Kurts relief.  He casually talked to Blaine, not expecting interaction, just chatting about his day, trying to orient his lover back to the here and now.  Once he had them in their bedroom, he stripped off Blaines business attire, urging him to change into a pair of lounging jammies.

After a little thought, Kurt decided to have Blaine sit on the living room couch with him for a while.  He was still blindly following commands, which didnt surprise Kurt all that much.  Kurt made them some hot chocolate, then curled up on the sofa with Blaine tucked up against him and turned the TV on.

"Im right here, my love," Kurt murmured softly, running his fingers through Blaines soft curls.  "Come back to me when youre ready."  Blaine didnt answer, but he reached his arms around Kurts lean body and tucked himself in close.
*****

Blaine woke to a pitch-black living room pressed up against a softly snoring Kurt.  Why were they on the couch?  Then he remembered.  His eyes darted to the coffee table where the envelope rested.  Blaine slowly stood, stretching out the kinks from too long a time spent curled up.  He gently pushed a mostly asleep Kurt down the hall to their bedroom, the envelope firmly clutched in one hand.  He reluctantly set it on the nightstand, then pulled down the sheets.  Kurt crawled into them and was snoring again by the time his head hit the pillow.  Chuckling softly, Blaine curled up next to him, falling quickly back to sleep as well.

The alarm clock blared to life, signaling the too-soon arrival of morning.  Blaine quickly turned it off before Kurt could blindly swat at the thing and potentially knock it behind the nightstand onto the floor. Again.

Blaine rose and quietly left to make coffee.  He returned to see Kurt sitting up in bed, regarding him cautiously.  Blaine handed him the coffee and leaned in for a quick kiss.  Before Kurt could say anything, he plopped down onto the bed next to him.  "Sorry I flaked out on you," he apologized, nudging Kurt gently with a shoulder.

"Dont even, hun.  Weve established that who you were meant to be sometimes clashes with who youve become and you need check out for a little while to let that process.  And this wasnt even a bad one, anyway.  You were responding a little before we even fell asleep."  Kurt hesitated.  "Any idea what in particular might have set it off?"  Sometimes there were reasons, and sometimes a date or an image, some random thing could rock him.  Blaine didnt always know, himself.  It helped when he could talk about it through, though.      

Blaine nodded slowly.  He reached over for the envelope hed been clinging to the day before and handed it over. "Look at this."  

"Oh my god," Kurt gasped softly as he dumped out its contents.  He had barely made it through the pictures before he was tearing up.  By the time Kurt was done with the article his eyes were blazing.  Anger, sadness, and above all love chased each other across his features, reflecting the internal battle.

"There was a little handwritten note in there from Carson Phillips," Blaine told him. Hed sat quietly, hugging his knees while Kurt read. "The note said that its up to me.  If I dont want him to, he wont publish it.  His card is in there and he asked me to call him with a decision."

"Do you know what you want to do?" Kurt asked.

"Uh, yeah. I think I do, anyway. What...I mean, do you have a preference?  This will probably affect you. Maybe even more than me."

Kurt shrugged. "I think its not that simple.  Its your story, your life.  If you want to call him right now, you know Ill support you. But maybe, if youre still on the fence, we could send a copy to Cooper and my parents? This could affect a lot of the people around us." 

Of course they needed to do that. Blaine still wasnt thinking clearly.  There werent any specific names mentioned besides his, but it wouldnt be that hard for people to figure it out if they really wanted to.  Maybe he should just let it go, happy endings all around.  But if that IRS lady had gone through all the effort of acquiring him, there had to be a market for that sort of thing. The type of people who had wanted him would be looking for others, other kids. Maybe this article could stop what happened to him from happening again.

"Lets talk to our families," Blaine decided. "See what they say. But if...if theyre willing, I want to let him publish it."

"Of course you do, you brave idiot," Kurt told him fondly, not looking even a little surprised.  "But maybe we can wait on making those phone calls until after a shower..."

Blaine grinned.  "You have the best ideas." He jumped up and tugged his lover behind him towards the bathroom.
***********************