The beaten front of the building seemed a little less scary with the morning sun slanting across its front. The light overtop of the door was flickering out, welcoming the light of the new day. Kurt was observing the building, his steps in time with Blaine's, and Blaine noted that it wasn't just the dawning day that made him feel safer-it was the boy next to him, giving him courage.

Kurt raised his head, his expression taking on one that Blaine had never seen. He could only imagine this was how he'd look when he normally worked. His eyes were calm and yet his features were serious, ready and prepared to follow orders. 

His eyes flickered to the door and Blaine nodded, pressing his body just against the surface. As he did so, the suit sprouted from the back of his neck, sliding over his skin. He could just see Kurt watching him from the corner of his eye, a slight awe turning his mouth slack and relaxing his muscles as he watched Blaine let the suit free so naturally. His own hands were resting over a gun-another thing that seemed foreign to him when associated with Kurt. 

Blaine pressed one hand against the surface of the door, pushing lightly, and grabbed the handle carefully with the other. Giving it a sharp twist to see if it as unlocked, Blaine threw open the door forcefully, tumbling inside the warehouse-like room.

Kurt slipped inside behind him, pulling the door closed quietly. Blaine was on alert, scanning the room for movement, but when he saw nothing, he started towards the opposite ends of the room, sticking to the walls. He assumed that they'd be able to get to the offices where he'd overheard Sebastian the first time through the back, and was right in finding a row of doors on the other end of the room. 

Pausing in front of each door, Blaine willed the suit to improve his hearing, listening for some sign of life beyond the outer frame. He turned to Kurt after each one, shaking his head, before he finally heard something-a ragged breath on the other side of the second last door. Nodding to Kurt, he checked to make sure the very last door held nothing to be surprised by, and then stood in front of the one where he'd heard the sound.

Before opening the door he raised his head to look at Kurt. There was a fear twisting his stomach as he recalled the words he'd once heard from the back of his mind. This was the man who'd wanted him squashed, who'd crazily flung breakable objects at walls, who had been in charge of manipulating genetics to create creatures that were partly human and partly destructive monsters meant to destroy him. He wasn't ashamed all too much to be scared, but it was fear after all, taunting him and telling him that this was a bad idea, just as most fears did. Kurt seemed to read this in his eyes and the serious expression broke a second to give him the smallest of smiles of encouragement. 

Just as before, he rested one hand against the door and one on the handle. When he twisted at the doorknob, however, it didn't bust open, so in the instant he saw that turning it just wouldn't work, his other hand pressed against the door. Willing the suit to take on his strength and multiply it, Blaine felt the door give in and caught himself just as it broke down.

Kurt's hand brushed over Blaine's side as he hurried to stand next to him, gun raised in a manner that made it apparent that Kurt had done so a thousand times. His eyes were scanning the room so quickly it made Blaine dizzy to watch. Turning his attention to the tiny office, Blaine took in a small bookshelf, a few chairs pushed against the wall, a second door, and a number of marks against the walls where paint had been chipped or on the floors where the wood had been scratched. From the loud smash he'd heard that night, he assumed that these marks would too have been from a mis-thrown breakable. 

It took him a second to notice the man sitting on the desk. Wisps of silvery hair sticking messily out of his head, wide eyes, a lopsided grin, and eyebrows knitted together, the man sitting on the desk was as chilling as Blaine had pictured him to be. As his eyes moved, though, Blaine realized that he was holding something in his hand, and he extended it towards him lazily. The exact weapon that Kurt had shown him nearly a month ago was right in his hands, aimed right at his chest.

"Silver," he breathed, his mouth seeming to stay just as off-angle even when he spoke in that soft voice. "Or...what was it Sebastian had said? Blaine?"

Just hearing his name spoken sent chills up his spine. 

"And I'm guessing this must be Kurt, correct?" he continued, his eyes trailing over Kurt who was pointing his gun at the man, his arms held stiffly. "The infamous dept to your troubles? Leader of the hero, bringer of his downfall as so many else. Love love, like a sting to the heart, making it bleed and then fall apart."

Blaine tried to lift his shoulders, make himself seem stronger than he was, but his eyes couldn't leave the weapon so casually pointed at him. He'd felt the effects of the poison within, or at least the very smallest of them, and he wasn't too pleased at the idea of facing them again at tenfold.

"Where the hell did you get that?" Kurt's voice rang clearly and angrily through the room.

The silvery man smiled, looking down at the weapon and stroking it silently with his thumb, his head tilted and his eyes wide as though it was something wonderful. 

"Sebastian left it behind," another voice spoke and Kurt's arms moved as quickly as the snap of a whip to trail the gun on the man in the shadows. He lifted his head, arms folded over his broad chest as he observed the scene with interest. "Shouldn't be put to waste, now should it?"

"Especially not when he didn't finish his job," the other man chimed in happily.

Kurt's shoulders were rigid as he looked between the two, his hands tight on the gun in between them. He kept his aim on the second man, though Blaine could see him itching to turn it on the one threatening him. "What purpose does this serve you?" Kurt said, and Blaine could hear him restraining his voice, resisting the urge to scream. He spoke with a furious anger Blaine had never heard in him. 

"You mean killing Silver Spark?" he asked, tilting his head so it nearly rested on his shoulder. His mouth twitched. "Putting an end to his life?"

Blaine's muscles tightened and Kurt sneered.

"We have our reasons," the other man spoke softly. "We have certain connections throughout this city, people who would be considered wrongdoers, that we couldn't have had caught. Silver Spark was just a bit of a, well a threat to business."

"This is a person's life-"

"Casualties," the silver haired man said, waving a free hand. "Just a few bumps in the road."

"You sick, manipulating bas-"

"Sometimes life just isn't fair," the man in the shadows said, cutting Kurt off. "What do you expect anyways? Someone like that can't just walk out into the public eye and not expect to have his life endangered. There're probably hundreds who would love to see the grand fall of Silver Spark-his body laid out across the pavement, blood surrounding his head, people screaming and crying and laughing and celebrating-"

His words were silenced by a loud bang. Blaine flinched, his ears ringing as the suit tried to adapt. With a jolt he realized that Kurt had fired off his gun, the bullet embedding itself into the man's leg. He looked down at the wound with surprise and then his head shot up, anger turning his face red and bringing him to his feet. He wobbled, trying to move forwards on his bad leg, face screwing up in pain, and Kurt struck out, his fist colliding with the man's face before he slumped to the ground unconscious. As soon as his body hit the ground Kurt spun, weapon trailed on the silver haired man who had not moved an inch.

"You've got a bit of a temper," he observed calmly.

"Yeah, well I can put that temper right through your head if you don't drop that gun right now," Kurt said, speaking through gritted teeth. Blaine stared at him, slightly surprised at the fury that radiated from Kurt so strong it was frightening.

The man smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting just so, and then looked over at Blaine. "You're awfully quiet, Blainers."

Just minutes ago Blaine had been prepared to walk into this room and bring hell to the person who was beyond the door, but seeing that weapon, knowing just what it was capable of, sent ripples of fear down his spine. He'd brought danger upon himself so many times before, but the pain from the weapon seemed one too much to bear. 

Wasn't he supposed to be a hero though? What was it about heroes that people admired so much? Kurt had said it before-bravery, selflessness, compassion. Bravery, as in standing up to your fears and facing them head on despite the terror it sent through you. Selflessness-he was aware that this man was putting more than just his life in danger, but Kurt's and his family's and all the people in the city, and he couldn't put his own life before theirs. And compassion, caring for these people, knowing they'd be safer if he just finished what needed to be done.

Blaine raised his eyes from the weapon, gleaming with the anger and darkness of his shadowed world, and looked into those of the man, wide and excited and dancing with craze. All that was keeping him safe was the suit, and he wasn't sure how well it would hold up to the chemicals within. Balling his fists, he leveled his voice and spoke loudly, "If you set the gun down now, we won't have to make things complicated."

The man's grin spread. "But complicated is so fun!"

He took a step forwards, pulling back his shoulders and sucking in a breath. 

"You don't like to chat then?" the man asked sweetly, resting a hand on the desk. He didn't lower the weapon, letting it follow Blaine's every movement. "Because I'm a big fan of social communication."

Blaine ignored his words, moving carefully forwards. He could see Kurt watching him out of the corner of his eye, an anxious flicker in his steady stare before he turned his attention back to the man he was aiming a gun at. There wasn't much distance between them, but his steps were small, cautious.

"We could talk, Blaine," he said, and suddenly his voice was quieter, softer, and his eyes were dimmed. "I could tell you so much."

He gritted his teeth, nails pressed against palm, his heart racing. He could almost feel a small twitch inside of him, as though the effects of the poison within the weapon were starting to reach him, piercing through the suit. "You have nothing to tell me," he said.

The man shook his head sadly, "That's where you're so very wrong.

"Don't you see the similarities? My creations compared to you? They're manipulations-monsters to the world. I know about the chip Blaine, buried not only in the back of your neck but deep inside of your heart, locked away in the blackest tips of your soul. It manipulated you, took you and twisted you until you couldn't be seen as human. You're just a monster like all the rest." The side of his mouth turned up in a cocky grin, his eyes alight. "They're just like you, Blaine. Breathing in the horror of the reality that proves that everything they touch is below them, easily bent or broken.

"Have you never wondered why you are, Blaine?" he asked, voice dropping to just above a whisper. "Haven't you wondered why this burden was place on your shoulders?"

"You don't know a thing about my life," Blaine replied, but his voice shook. 

"Don't you want to know, Blaine?" he whispered. "Aren't you tired?"

Blaine opened his mouth and then closed it again, unable to reply. He'd thought about it before, of course. When things got dark and he was stumbling home, aching and wishing that he didn't feel as though he was about to pass out, only to get inside and find himself listening to Coop go on and on about responsibilities and behaving appropriately and getting his life together. He wanted to understand, wanted to see why he was chosen to be this hero that he'd become. 

"Y-you don't know," Blaine said, slipping on his words. Flashes of his brother's disappointed face, ghost aches of scars and bruises, lies he'd weaved getting thicker and thicker..."You can't."

"What if I do, though?" he said. His voice was soothing, low and gentle like it was guiding him through a dream. "Don't you want to understand?"

Blaine hesitated. "Blaine," Kurt breathed. He could hear the sadness in his voice, heavy and evident like he knew what Blaine was feeling and thinking and didn't want to disturb it just as much as he needed to. He swallowed, watching the man's steady gaze, his eyes shifting down to his hands gripping the weapon calmly. 

"Of course I do," Blaine said, trying to gather himself. "You-you can't though. You don't know a thing about me."

There was a gleam in his eyes, like a fire flickering, shifting, and Blaine was caught between the steady gaze and the manic and insanity and that need...that need for power...His fingers curled around the weapon, taut and ready and careful. Craving for power, for a control he couldn't have...

"No," Blaine said firmly. 

"You have so much potential," he whispered. "You could become something if you only knew..."

"I'm not going to become someone like you," Blaine sneered, eyes flaring. "I'm not going to use others the way that you do. The reason that I do what I do is so that I can help people, not hinder them."

"You're a monster, you could tear the world apart!" he shouted. "You could burn cities and walk over bodies swimming in blood! Nobody would be able to contradict someone of such power! You have barely brushed the surface of what that suit is able to do! All you have to do is lie down and stop fighting. All you have to do is give in to what you know that you want! A power that you must crave deep inside your heart. Take control and you can have whatever you like."

"It's not my world to tear apart," Blaine whispered. "It's mine to save."

"I can help you-"

"You can't help anyone!" Blaine shouted. "All you care about is power. Power above all else. And all you do is destroy! Break things apart like a child."

"You're sick of lying, Blaine," he hissed, almost desperately. Blaine knew that he was trying to rope him in, trick him. The temptation was there, surely. Knowing why he'd become this, understanding why he had to live this way. It was like waving food in front of one who'd never tasted it in their life. "To your family? To friends and strangers and loved ones?" 

"Stop."

"Because I know," he whispered, mouth twitching, hands curved around the weapon.  "Secrets. Reasons to make sense of things-"

"Stop."

"All of your life, wondering, and its right here-"

"Stop it!" 

Silence fell over the room. Blaine breathing heavily, silvery fists clenched at his side. Because maybe he had the chance, the chance to finally understand...But he was a hero. Selflessness. Was he really going to put his desires before the safety of others? Before the safety of his family and Kurt? If it meant that he was clueless to whom he really was, then he would deny it. He would deny his past being handed to him on a plate. Because he was a hero, and that was the right thing to do.

"I don't need your truths or your lies," Blaine said, "because it doesn't matter which they are. I don't need to hear what you have to say. I'm Silver Spark, now and forever."

"Fine then..." he whispered. Blaine's eyes flickered down, mouth suddenly dry as he watched the movements, watched the shift of the fingers, the position of the weapon. He could hear Kurt moving, gun pointed at the silvery haired man. "Don't want to play?"

"Don't you dare," Kurt hissed. 

His eyes danced over to Kurt, looking him over with interest. "Dare what? Dare kill him?" He smiled, glancing at Blaine and running a finger over the body of the weapon. "All I do is pull this trigger...and then poor Silver Spark...dead."

Blaine swallowed. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Blaine-"

"You're going to drop the weapon," Blaine continued steadily, though inside his heart raced quickly, faster and faster, eyes never leaving the weapon and the oozing green liquid bubbling inside. One drop like a poison..."And then you're going to stay still and let us arrest you. There's no point in fighting. You can't go anywhere from here." 

"Is that so?" he smiled. "Are you certain?"

"You are done tormenting people," Blaine said, voice rising with his anger. "You are done with haunting pasts and blaming worlds. You're done."

"Blaine-"

In that moment, two shots shook the room, one in sequence to the other, a soft zip followed by the loud bang of a gun. The sounds rang in Blaine's ears as he fell to the ground, hands clutched to his head, feeling dizzy. The room filled with a thin layer of smoke, hanging above him, and he heard the sound of the man coughing through the buzzing from the guns, hanging in his ears as though bugs were humming into them. Blaine coughed himself, feeling suddenly woozy, and when he tried to stand his legs felt wobbly beneath him. 

"Kurt," he whispered, hoping the sound was still blasting through their ears as well. "Kurt?"

A figure approached through the fog of the shots, reaching towards him, and Blaine blindly grabbed the hand, when he was pushed back to the ground, roughly, and hit his head off of the wall behind him. Stars danced in front of his eyes and his head spun, the room a carousel dancing around him. Blaine reached for the hand again when he saw the silvery hair and stumbled backwards, head spinning.

"Scared Blainey?" he whispered. There was something in his eyes that Blaine could only think to describe as insanity, lust for power, craving for blood splattered over his hands. He could see the weapon held tight in his grip, aimed towards Blaine a bit loosely. 

Blaine's foot shot up, kicking the weapon from his grasp so that it skidded across the floor, somewhere into the distance. They heard it hit a wall and then slide again, Kurt scooping it up into his hands. Blaine reached out, grabbed for his hand, and tried to hoist himself up, but midway standing he threw him against the wall, his head smashing into a light. Sparks rained down around them and Blaine ducked his head, dizzy with the impact.

"Blaine!" Kurt shouted, frantic with worry.

"Shoot!" Blaine called out, blinking away the black spots back again in his vision. 

There was another shot, ringing and booming, and something hit the ground in front of Blaine. Another hit followed, a sharp yelp of pain. Blaine blinked just in time to see the man grabbing for his ankles, fallen to the ground with bullet wounds in his legs, and his fist struck out, catching his face and knocking him unconscious.

"Are...are you...alright?" Kurt said, breathing heavily from the other side of the room.

Blaine nodded but his head was still spinning, the room shifting focus and feeling like he was swaying from side to side. He slid down against the wall to rest. "D-did he...hit me?" Blaine asked, trying to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him a few minutes ago. 

Kurt moved towards him, eyes scanning over Blaine and then the area surrounding him, cautious and calculated, detail oriented eyes familiar with searching. He paused right before Blaine and then squatted down next to him, running his finger over the wall and pulling it back, sticky with the green ooze that dwelled inside of the weapon. Blaine flinched and Kurt got quickly to his feet, moving away. "Sorry," he murmured.

Blaine shook his head. "N-no...I'm fine," he said.

However, Kurt didn't look convinced. "Blaine," he whispered, hand held out and then pulled away, staring at the liquid on his pale fingertip. "Just-just stay still a moment, okay?"

Blaine nodded numbly, trying to control the dizzy dance the room was doing around him, feeling slightly nauseated. It wasn't as bad as it had been before, without the suit, laid bare to the poison of the substance right at his fingertips, but he still felt ill and weak. 

Taking a handkerchief from his back pocket, Kurt bent forwards once more and dabbed at the wall, trying to get the worst of the substance off, being cautious to lean away from Blaine, fearful to get too close. Blaine watched with half lidded eyes, the weight of the past few days taking toll on him, the silence in the room making it feel as though it were just he and Kurt and not two unconscious males who had both just been trying to kill him. When Kurt had gotten it off of the wall he rubbed at his hands and then threw the handkerchief onto the desk and turned back to Blaine with wary eyes.

"Kurt, I'll be fine," Blaine said softly, pushing himself further up the wall. A shard of glass slid underneath him, though the suit was able to protect him, too strong to be pierced. 

His eyes darted down to the unconscious body of the silvery haired man, an angry flame burning brightly behind the curiosity that danced in his eyes. He prodded him with his foot before pushing him to the side so as to be able to crouch right in front of Blaine. Kurt's hand reached out to cup his cheek, and Blaine noticed how tired Kurt looked, his face scratched up and deep purple half-moons drooping under his eyes.

"You're a good guy," Kurt said, voice barely above a whisper. "He's just..."

"Full of shit?" Blaine supplied, and was happy when the corner of Kurt's mouth quirked up in a smile. "I know."

Kurt's thumb stroked the side of his face. Blaine could only imagine what he looked like compared to Kurt, even with the suit. He had fallen from a building after all, and a twenty story drop had to make you somewhat of a mess. Kurt's finger slid over the edge of his lip and Blaine winced. His mouth set in a sad frown and he bent forwards, pressing a light kiss to the injured spot. 

"Mm can you say it?" Blaine whispered, eyes closed with Kurt's face so close.

He could almost hear the smile in his voice, "Say what, my love?"

Blaine laughed, a burst that came out of his throat and sounded so strange, so very strange after everything, and Kurt just smiled at him and caught his chin to kiss him gently, moist lips pressed against Blaine's, laughing and smiling. "I love you."

"Again?"

"Blaine," Kurt laughed, pulling away.

"Please?" 

"I love you."

"Mm I love you, too."

Kurt stood, stretching out his arms above his head, and he reached for his phone in his pocket. "How's your ankle?" he asked as he dialed, eyes on the device when he spoke to Blaine.

"Better," Blaine said, "I mean, I'd assume so. The suit seems to have healed it quite a bit."

He nodded, holding the phone to his ear now. "Still broken-or how does this work?"

"Not entirely sure," Blaine replied. "I haven't really broken things too often."

Kurt nodded and started speaking into the phone, turning his back to Blaine to face the other unconscious man whom he had shot earlier. Blaine watched the silvery haired man, watched the rise and fall of his chest, and felt rather bare sitting before him. He looked so human, eyes closed and face bruised and emotionless, just another being, fast asleep in appearance. So human and so very destructive. 

When Blaine looked up Kurt was wandering back towards him, saying their current address into the speaker with a crisp, professional manner, one hand in his pocket, thumbing at his belt loop absently. "Yes...yes, thank you," he said in that serious tone. "Okay...yes, thanks." He hung up and slipped it back into his pocket before speaking to Blaine. "Ryerson is going to send someone out here to take Crazy and Crazier in." He pulled out a pair of handcuffs, a bit of a grin playing on his lips. "You going to be ready to dash?"

Blaine watched him a moment. "What about the others?" 

"You mean Acid and Smash?" he asked quietly.

"I-we can't just-"

"Blaine, I know I said it before, but you're tired and your ankle-"

"And nobody else can match them, except for me."

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest, looking at him with a sad expression. He knew that Blaine was right. He'd watched Silver the entire time, seen him in fights, watched police officers struggle to help because nobody could actually fight them with equal force as Silver could. Every time they seemed stronger, so did he, matching their strength.

"Tomorrow-"

"May be too late."

"I-I wish I could just..." Kurt cut himself off, running a hand through his hair. "Blaine, I want to be able to help."

"I don't exactly have a spare suit-"

"It's not fair to you-"

"Isn't that part of the job?" Blaine said. "It's practically in the description of 'hero'."

Kurt sighed, bending down over the silvery haired man, eyes hidden from Blaine as he pressed his hands behind his back and clicked the cuffs into place. He paused a moment, keeping his face hidden, before he looked back at Blaine, shaking his head. "I know that you're going to do it," he said plainly. "I know that no matter what you're going to risk your safety to help them. And I know that nobody else can do it."

"So...?"

"So I may as well help."

Their eyes met for a moment, steady gazes staring back at one another, and Blaine's mouth curved in a tiny smile. "Thank you."

Silver's feet moved quickly, the familiar dance a pattern in his head, back and forth, dodging and punching and trying to outsmart but it was always just a chance. Acid smirked, still full of that confident determination despite Smash passed out across the street, being restrained by a group of officers. Panther was crouched in the open second story window of the building behind them, observing with amusement.

"Oh c'mon, kid, I can do this all day long," Acid laughed, little swirls of smoke curling off of her fingertips. "You've gotta get tired."

Blaine threw out his hand, going in for a punch, and she dodged it, but his foot slid underneath her, catching her off guard and sending her down, arms flailing and legs tumbling until she hit the ground, spread out hands burning holes in the ground. Her head lifted, eyes suddenly full of rage, but Blaine was already there, throwing another punch towards her and catching her in the head, right where the thin material of the mask was, and knocking her unconscious.

Breathlessly, he spun around, watching Panther as he shifted his position above.

"Amateurs, weren't they?" he said softly, grinning. He took to his feet, and with a swipe of his hand, the claws extended, glimmering silver reflecting in the light, as sharp as knives and ready to strike. "Now the real fun can begin."

Silver resisted the urge to exhale, exhaustion and exasperation mixing together. His arm still stung where Acid had seared him, gripping tightly until he had winced and pulled away hard enough to be free, and he was sure there was a bump on his head where Smash had managed to get a good hit in, too strong for the suit to take it fully. 

"I don't suppose you've ever been to a party?" Silver asked, eyes following Panther as he paced along the windowsill. "I mean, I don't know what you define fun as but you may change your opinion if you get involved-"

"You're worthless," Panther hissed. "Just a joke."

Silver grinned, a genuine grin, about ready to laugh. "Yeah?" he said, his voice showing his amusement. "Then what does that make you?"

The mouth turned into a snarl and he leapt down from his perch, running forwards, hands poised to strike, and Silver simply stepped out of the way, allowing him to stumble forwards over Acid's unconscious form. Silver stood with hands behind his back, tilted head, watching with amusement as Panther pushed himself to his feet, practically steaming with anger. His hands extended, ready to claw at Silver, but he reached out and caught his wrist, faster than he was, and kicked his feet out from under him.

Panther, furious, pulled Silver down with him, claws digging into the suit just enough that he stuck, and although Blaine tried to pull away he was caught in the grip. The other hand reached for his throat, claws glinting in the sunlight as they neared his face-and razor sharp claws were not something he wanted that near to his face.

Blaine rolled his legs out from under himself, pulling away so much as he could, even with Panther still latched on to his arm. He glanced over, hopeful that he'd be there, and then heard the gun shot firing, and Panther jerking his hand back, a soft hiss of pain emitting from his tight lips.

Kurt was grinning, gun held at arm’s length, as he stood at the sidelines of the fight. 

Panther tried to get to his feet but wobbled and fell over. Blaine could see the scarlet seeping through the suit, see Panther's face paling as he stared at himself, almost too disbelieving to understand.

"They don't want you!" he shouted. "They don't want you now or ever because you are nothing more than a show! You are nothing more than entertainment! You are nothing-"

"If not completely tired of hearing this speech."

Panther was out in a moment, lying on the ground with the others. Kurt rushed over, slipping his gun back away, and crouched down before waving over a pair of officers. They swarmed around his body, calling out to one another in fast, sharp orders, going about with quick movements and disregarding Kurt and Silver standing there, observing.

"Is this the part where the hero has to disappear?" Kurt murmured.

Blaine lifted his head. It was just past noon, and he was starting to feel the exhaustion sinking in, heavy in his bones and aching muscles. He looked towards the police, gathered around the criminals, some glancing up at Silver with grateful smiles. He nodded his head, glancing towards Kurt. "Meet me at my house?" he said under his breath.

Kurt nodded again, that same brisk and official manner, but Blaine could see the corner of his mouth twitching. "Of course."

Blaine braced himself against the doorway of the house as he fumbled with his keys to open it. He had to drop the suit to be seen outside of the shadows, and every little cut and bruise and aching muscle seemed to scream at him, a chorus of pain all in harmony. His ankle surely wasn't still broken, but the pressure was still enough to make him bight down on his lip and refuse the urge to gasp. 

The car was still gone from the driveway. Blaine sighed as he pushed open the door, slipping inside and turning on the light. 

The house was empty, just as he'd left it. Light filtered in through windows, piano pressed up against the wall, no music playing, no movement stirring. Blaine reached for the phone on the table closest. As he listened to the buzzing of the phone, waiting for Coop to pick, hoping that Coop would pick up, Blaine allowed the suit to move around his ankle and collapsed on to the couch, stifling a yawn.

"Blaine?"

Blaine was so relieved to hear his brother's voice that he exhaled the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Coop, are-are you okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine," Coop assured him. "B, are you-"

"Good. Y-you can come home," he said. "Thank you, Coop."

"No problem, Squirt," Cooper replied, and Blaine could picture that goofy smile of his stretched over his lips. His brother may have driven him crazy most of the time, but it was a relief to hear that he was safe, and to know that he would see him in a few hours. "You sure you're alright?"

"I will be when you're home-"

"Awe Blainers!" Blaine couldn't help himself-he started laughing. "You really do love your bro! Pretend I'm hugging you, okay?"

"Alright, Coop."

"I'll be home soon, okay?"

"Yeah, Coop. See you soon."

Blaine let the phone fall on to the couch where it nestled in between cushion and arm rest. For a second he just sat there, resting his head on the back of the couch, his eyes closed against the wave of exhaustion taking over. He had to stand to get the door when he heard the knock, though, and dragged himself up, already yawning again even as he pulled the front door open and Kurt stepped inside, pulling him in close.

"I'm so proud of you," Kurt said, voice muffled by Blaine's shoulder.

"Me too," Blaine breathed, holding tight to Kurt, hands squeezing his back, not wanting to let go. "I-I'm so proud of us."

Kurt smiled, pulling back so that he could look Blaine and his many scratches over, before he bent to kiss his forehead, brushing a loose curl away. It was such a small action, but something about it felt comforting, caring. "I am too."

Blaine brought him over to the couch, tugging him by the hand, and Kurt sat down next to him, warm body pressed close to his, hip to hip and ankles crossing. It was a nice feeling, comforting, just to have him so near, to feel him present. Even the pause of silence was comfortable, Kurt twisting their fingers together and pressing the back of Blaine's hands absently to his lips before dropping them to settle between their bodies.

In the silence, with nothing left to do, Blaine finally felt as though he was feeling everything from the past day. All of it came crashing down. His emotions swirled and the memories moved through his mind like a rapid fast slideshow-lying in his room,  the phone ringing, tumbling out of the building, his brother's frantic face, fighting Sebastian, I love you...It all merged together, a single, hectic day, and Blaine was finally able to see it in past. 

His mind kept returning, though, to the conversation with the strange, silvery haired man. Not his fables of power and destruction. Those he dropped easily from his mind, like brushing away a pest. However, he kept coming back to his tempts, to him trying to bait him into hearing his past. Blaine wasn't sure if he'd really known anything at all, but that didn't stop him from pondering on the ideas.

Kurt had his head tilted next to him, staring at the wall with distant eyes that didn't seem to really be seeing. Blaine turned away, covering his mouth as he yawned, and Kurt sighed, rolling his eyes, and said, "Come here." He waved Blaine over when he didn't move and Blaine allowed him to pull him closer and drop his head into his lap so that he was looking up at Kurt. 

Fingers playing with his curls, Blaine smiled, closing his eyes, remembering their days of gentle caresses and sweet words exchanged, feverish kisses and soft careful touches. It felt like he'd spent a thousand days with Kurt, each it's only little story, each its own lovely memory.

"What's on your mind?" Kurt asked softly.

Blaine stared up at the ceiling, thoughts dancing back round to his past. "I know that he was probably lying....but that man, when he was saying he knew why I was...well him, I just couldn't help but think about it..."

"I understand," Kurt said. "And I wish I had the answers for you."

Blaine shook his head. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Well, it's only natural to wonder why things are. Everyone does it. You don't have to be hidden behind a metal mask to wonder what brought you to that moment. It's only human to be curious. I wish I could understand, I mean...I really wish I could see-see why I was chosen to be this...this hero that took me so long to understand." Blaine paused, gathering his thoughts, and Kurt brushed away another curl and stroked his knuckle with his thumb. "But...if I do have to live my whole life wondering...it may not be that bad."

"Why's that?"

"Because what's happened has obviously then happened for some reason. I think for now, it's just...easier to accept it. To just understand that it is and forever will be. There's no use troubling myself."

Kurt watched him, tired eyes examining his face, and nodded. "I understand," he said quietly. "I just-I want you to be happy, Blaine."

"I'm happy helping," said Blaine, blinking up at Kurt. "I like knowing I'm doing good."

Just as the suit was part of him, so was Silver. The two had grown into one, Blaine Anderson and Silver Spark, although both had to hide. While one face was in the broad daylight, the other always had to be hidden in shadows behind him, a mask to pull out and switch whenever need be, never actually intersecting but always being the same. Kurt squeezed Blaine's shoulder lightly and Blaine raised his head. He ducked down to kiss him and Blaine's arm stretched up, cupping the back of his head lightly to keep him steady, mouths moving together. 

"So long as I can help," Blaine murmured against his mouth.

Kurt smiled, pulling closer. "My hero."

Blaine's eyes opened and Kurt was so close, his eyes so brilliant in the gentle light, dancing with emotions and crinkled with his smile. His hand brushed over his cheek, almost without thought, and Kurt leaned into the touch. "As you are mine."

The word had always seemed a bit odd in his mind. To be a hero, he always felt it more just a definition of the job than a trait. He didn't picture himself molded in statue like some sort of figure of power, put above others. There was no cape shaking in the wind behind him, no ability to fly and soar through the skies. He was aware that Silver Spark was a hero, yes, but never did he truly hear the word as some meant it. 

To Blaine, a true hero was a leader, someone who aided in times of trouble, someone who you may be able to look up to for guidance. A hero was the type of person that children wrote their journals on in class-My hero is Silver Spark because he helps people. My hero is my mother because she cares for me. 

And by those words, Kurt truly was his hero. In times of trouble he saved him from himself, from the depths of his mind threatening to throttle his neck and take away his sanity. In Kurt's arms safety had always been near, in those arms was care and comfort. In those arms was love.

Kurt moved to sit up again when Blaine yawned, exhaustion taking over again in another wave, crashing over him, making his eyelids droop and his body feel heavy. Kurt plucked the blanket off of the back of the couch and started to shift underneath Blaine. Blaine sat up, moving with him, both knowing one another's movements without saying a word as though speaking by thought, until Kurt was behind him, arms around his waist and chin tucked over his shoulder, the blanket draped over both of them.

Blaine cuddled closer to Kurt, taking in his warmth, sighing in contentment as those safe arms circled him, protecting and comforting.

"Sleep well, Blaine," Kurt said, voice tinged with exhaustion, already drifting to sleep.

The other boy smiled, letting his eyes fall shut, like anchors dropping to sea, leaning back into the warmth of this boy so close and real and beautiful. Half awake it all felt like it was a dream. How could he be so lucky to have someone so wonderful as Kurt holding him so dear? How was it that his life seemed a story, and this felt the happiest of endings to the day's chapter? Blaine smiled, cozy and warm under the embrace, and hummed. "Sweet dreams, my love."