Chapter Five: Come As You Are

Santana didn’t come to see him that night despite what she had stated, but Blaine was sent a doctor and given a rather elaborate meal, and the rooms he was shown to were far grander than he had anticipated.  It should have made him happy after all that he’d endured over the past few days, but instead it just made him confused… and suspicious.

His anxiety only grew when he didn’t see Santana the next day, or the day after that.  As predicted, the doctor had told him his leg would heal nicely (it was fractured, not broken), but he wasn’t supposed to walk on it for a few days.  He was given no crutches, so that meant he was holed up in his rooms.  Not that he was able to go anywhere, anyway, what with the guard that was always posted outside his door. 

Blaine wanted information and had no way to get it.  He had seen Sandy again on a few occasions, but they guy creeped him out too much for Blaine to give him any excuse to linger.  Terri brought him every meal, but the previously gossipy woman was astoundingly tight-lipped any time he questioned his predicament or demanded to speak to Santana.  Perhaps she didn’t know much herself.

By day four he was fed up.  While he was grateful to be alive, Blaine was a man of action and no act of charity—if that’s even what this was—could bring him to feel indebted enough to become a sitting duck, especially not with Kurt waiting for him and probably worring himself death over where he was.  Blaine was going to get his answers one way or another, and then he’d be getting back to Kurt.

With that intent in mind, he made himself as presentable as possible and limped out the doorway, trying his best to ignore the pain shooting through his leg.  In his arms he carried his bedside lamp—unfortunately the heaviest stand-in for a weapon he could find—fully intending to knock the guard out if necessary or, more preferably, merely threaten the man.

But the guard was asleep.  Blaine could hardly believe his luck! 

It took him some time, but eventually he worked his way back to the dining room he remembered passing when he had first been taken to his rooms.  He only hoped that Santana would be there this morning.  For all he knew, she could be away on business or taking breakfast in bed.

His fears were for naught, though, because there she was, seemingly fixated on her plate of eggs and bowl of cereal while Sandy lurked in the corner, watching her eat.  A shudder ran through Blaine as the older man looked up and caught his eye, but before he could say anything Blaine straightened up the best he could and went marching in.

He tried to march, anyway.  It was the effort that counted.

Santana had already noticed him by the time he was next to her at the table, but he slammed his fists down next to her plate anyways—partly for dramatic effect, and partly because looming next to her had the advantageous side effect of allowing him to rest most of his weight against the table.

“Santana,” he said, his voice carefully confident, but not cruel.  “I want some answers.”

Santana seemed almost bored as she considered him before turning her gaze back to her breakfast.  “Very presumptuous of you, isn’t it, storming in here and disturbing my breakfast when I’ve been kind enough to spare your life and put you up.  You’re either exceedingly brave or exceedingly stupid, but my money’s on both.”

He studied her for a moment, trying to decide where to go with this next.  Perhaps he should have planned things out a little better.

“Maybe I’m just extremely determined,” he offered at last, mentally chastising himself when he sounded softer and less sure than intended.

She looked back over at him, this time looking him up and down as though pondering something.  Finally, she rolled her eyes and set about buttering a slice of toast.  “Sit down, hobbit.  At your height you need every inch of those legs!”

Blaine was taken aback—her tone was almost kind, a little teasing.  Not at all what he had come to expect from this woman.  He sat, pulling out a chair a few down from her, and waited.  But Santana didn’t offer to speak again.

“Why did you decide not to kill me?” he finally ventured.  “I certainly wasn’t cooperative, and I’m everything you’re against.  I don’t understand.”

For a long moment she didn’t answer, but then…

“Sandy, leave us,” she ordered.

Blaine watched in amazement as the other man bowed to her—actually bowed—before quietly leaving the room.

When he was gone, Santana turned back to him with a look on her face that was hard for Blaine to read.

“I’m not a nice person, Blaine,” she began, shocking him with the use of his first name.  “And I’m certainly not a good one.  But there are things that are very important to me, and I believe in integrity.  I believe in loyalty.  I haven’t had many true friends in my life, but those that I have had I’d do anything for.  And that includes putting my personal beliefs aside when my priorities demand it.”

Blaine shook his head.  “You’re still not making any sense.”

“I saw the name on your hand, you must have realized that.  Kurt Hummel.  He’s your soulmate, and back in high school he was one of my closest friends.  I would never do anything to hurt him.”

Blaine didn’t even try to hide the shock on his face, or in his voice.  “Even now that you know that he’s...”

“What, homosexual?  I didn’t know before, but I had guessed.”

“But you’ve dedicated your entire life to the law and to support the regulations against homosexuality! You’re the poster child for ‘show no mercy!’  Don’t even pretend you weren’t about to let them kill me a few days ago, that you didn’t enjoy it, that parts of you don’t hate me and everything that I am!”

She smiled at him, but Blaine wasn’t sure he liked it.  “I’m not very good at pretending anything.”

“I don’t understand,” he said again, hating the weakness in his own voice.

“You don’t have to,” Santana said, drinking down the last of her juice.  “I don’t need you to, and I also don’t need to explain myself to you.  It should be enough that you’re alive.”

Blaine set his jaw.  “Does this mean you’re going to let me go?  Send me back to Kurt?”

Santana laughed.  “I said that I’m loyal, not stupid.  That would be dangerous for both of us, and you know it.”

“Then what are you going to do with me?  I’m not accustomed to lazing around uselessly, and I don’t prefer it!”

She smirked at him, standing up and pushing in her chair.  “Annoying, isn’t it?  I’m rather enjoying that. “

Without another word, she spun and left the room, leaving Blaine to sit there in stunned silence and contemplate his next move.

*******

Blaine spent some time stubbornly hobbling around the castle (he had taken to calling it that in his head, unable to think of the elaborate building as a house) lost in thought.  To his surprise, the few people he came across didn't stop to question him or even acknowledge that he was there.

When the pain became too much to bear, he made his way reluctantly back to his rooms.  What he found when he reached them shocked him even more.  His guard was nowhere in sight, but there was a sturdy-looking pair of crutches leaning up against the wall in his stead that were just the right height.  Entering the room, Blaine found a fresh set of clothing laid out on the bed along with a note that simply read "because you stink."

Clearly, he wouldn’t be figuring Santana out anytime soon.  But that didn't mean he had any intention of giving up.

He took the remainder of his meals for the day in his room, begrudgingly resting his leg after the strain he had so stupidly placed on it that morning.  But the next day, he dressed in his new clothes and made his way once again to the dining room, slowly growing accustomed to using his crutches and grateful he had continued to put effort into maintaining his upper body strength even while in prison.

Kurt had appreciated that too, he reminded himself with a smug grin.  Then it hit him once again that Kurt was terribly far away right now, and the situation would probably remain that way for the foreseeable future.

The dining room was empty.  Blaine waited for three hours before finally giving up, returning to his rooms to find his own breakfast had been delivered and had long since grown cold.

Fortunately, the day after that brought him more luck.

"Are you planning to make a habit of disturbing my morning meal?  I've never been one to laze about with breakfast in bed, but suddenly the idea has growing merit."

“I’ll show up here every day if I have to,” Blaine told her confidently.  “Until you give me my answers or agree to send me home.”

He expected another witty comeback, but she surprised him again.

“Sit,” she said, gesturing to the chair he had occupied two days before.  “Sandy, please have Mr. Anderson’s breakfast sent here.  He will be dining with me every morning from now on.”

Blaine cocked an eyebrow at her.  “Does that mean…”

“It means, hobbit, that even your company is better than none at all.  Your pathetic ploys to get what you want out of me are amusing, and I’m always up for a challenge.”

He gaped at her until his breakfast appeared, almost knocking over his orange juice because he didn’t notice it was now on the table.

“Eat,” Santana ordered.  “I’ll ask the questions.”

Obediently he sawed off a hunk of sausage and brought it to his mouth, running through a mental list of all the things he couldn’t tell her but expected her to ask.

“First off,” she started, “I want to hear how Hummel’s doing.  We haven’t spoken since early college, I think.”

Blaine gulped as he swallowed, taken aback by her question.  “He’s doing well enough,” he answered cautiously.  “I think he enjoyed the job he had at the prison, but it wasn’t really what he wanted.”

Santana nodded.  “Yeah, I don’t think I ever saw him truly happy.  It was always like he was afraid to really be himself, you know?  He always held his head up and laughed everything off in high school, but those of us that knew him… well, we could see how much he was hurting.”

Blaine found himself agreeing with her insight.  “He’s in The Olde World, now,” he mused almost wistfully.  “I was looking forward to watching him discover himself there.  I hope… I mean, I think I made him happy, but there’s still so much out there for him.”

“That’s probably the best place for him to be,” Santana offered, sounding sincere and a little pensive.  “I’m glad he could get away.”

“What about you?” Blaine asked carefully, putting down his fork and giving her his full attention.  “Don’t you ever wish you could get out of here?  Don’t you wish you’d gotten away, before…”

He was fully prepared for another cutting retort, but Santana surprised him with a small, sad smile.  “What about me?  I have everything I could want here, I’m achieving everything I’ve worked for.  Power is the ultimate victory, Anderson.”

Blaine knew he shouldn’t risk it, but… “What about love, Santana?  You don’t have your soulm…”

Her eyes went cold again in an instant.  “I don’t need a soulmate.  I feel very little desire to be with anyone now, and it’s for the best.  Caring about people sucks, and I’m much better off without it.  I’m much stronger.”

“You seem to care about Kurt,” Blaine ventured, unfazed by her response.

“Not nearly enough to throw my life away for him, as you seem so eager to do.  Don’t tell me you didn’t know when you ran how risky it was, especially for you.  You can’t honestly still believe you made the right choice.”

“There was no other choice to make, Santana.  It was worth it, to be with him… to take him someplace where he can truly be himself.”

“It was foolishness that landed you here, and it almost got you killed,” she shot back.  “And I’m sure he’s worse off now than ever, now that you’re gone and he has no clue what happened.”

“He’s safe and he’s free,” Blaine argued, but his voice broke.

“You really believe that?” she asked, watching as he nodded.  “Then you don’t know him nearly as well as you think you do, loverboy.  There’s no way Hummel’s going to sit around there and wait while you’re missing.  He’s probably finding a way back over here as we speak.”

“No,” Blaine protested, more to himself.  He’d never even considered that before, and he really didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry,” Santana said more gently than he thought she was capable of.  “I’ve heard rumors of your little group planning a coup, but nothing about Kurt.  We can’t know for sure.”

Blaine pushed away from the table and grabbed his crutches, pulling himself up carefully.  “I don’t think I’m feeling very hungry anymore,” he told her, heading for the door.  “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Blaine,” she called out after him.  He would have ignored it except she used his first name, and so he paused.  “I’ll see you here tomorrow morning.”

Choosing to overlook that it wasn’t a request, Blaine nodded.  “See you the morning,” he echoed.

When he got back to his room Blaine collapsed on his bed.  For the first time since his youth, he allowed himself to cry.

*******

True to his word, Blaine showed up for breakfast the next morning and each morning after that.  Given his current circumstances, he couldn’t say that he liked Santana, per se, and he was having an even harder time understanding her supposed friendship with Kurt, but something about her made him almost look forward to their morning conversations.  It also never hurt to befriend the enemy.

They had a sort-of routine now.  Santana would begin every one of their breakfasts with an insult to his person and then practically order him to sit and eat.  Blaine would oblige her and spend the meal questioning her beliefs and life choices, which inevitably led to an argument.  Santana displayed no more insight into his world view than he had of hers, but to his surprise she generally avoided asking him about the resistance and any plans they might have had.  If their discussion didn’t grow so heated as to warrant Blaine storming out (which was becoming easier to effectively accomplish with his leg healing more each day), he would usually end the meal by trying to convince her to let him leave and go back to Kurt.  Unsurprisingly, she always refused.

He was seriously considering running away, but he knew that would be stupid.  Besides, what if Kurt really was here, trying to find him?  As much as he would like to believe that Kurt was safely waiting for him across the barrier, Santana’s concerns (and somehow, he was convinced she truly did care about the other man) made sense.  If, Source forbid, they were true… then there was no way in hell he’d be leaving for The New World without Kurt by his side—preferably tied to his side, so they couldn’t be separated this time.

 To his dismay (and, guiltily, excitement) he received all but confirmation of his fears almost three weeks after his arrival.

“Blaine,” Santana addressed him the moment he arrived that morning, her eyes lacking their usual spark of mischief, instead almost sad.  “Please, have a seat.”

Eyeing her curiously, he did so.  “Is something wrong?”

“I thought you might like to know that my guards have heard rumors that your resistance group is in the country.  Now, I haven’t heard mention of Kurt’s name specifically—or anyone’s for that matter—but…”

“But,” he prompted when she seemed hesitant to continue.

“But, according to my sources, it appears they’re here looking for you.”

Blaine swallowed, the implications of this hitting him immediately.  “That’s…” he didn’t know how to continue.  “What are you doing about it?”

Santana sighed.  “I’m doing my job, of course.  But my men have orders that any suspected members are to be brought here immediately, as unharmed as possible.  That’s the best I can really give you, right now.  I’ll let you know if I hear more.”

Taken aback by her kindness, Blaine tried to smile.  “Thank you.”  He paused, hesitating.  “I don’t suppose you’d let me leave and try to find him, would you?”

“You know me better than that,” she deadpanned, shooting him a dirty look.

Blaine almost laughed.  “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“You, umm… you don’t have to eat here, this morning, if you don’t feel like it.  I’d understand.”

“That’s ok.  I’m not very hungry, but it might do me good to be around a friend.”

Blaine froze the moment the words left his mouth, but it was too late.  Recovering quickly, he looked over and met Santana’s eyes.  “Is that what we are?  Are we friends?”

She scoffed.  “In your dreams, Anderson,” she said easily, turning hastily to her breakfast.

The soft smile she sent him a few moments later when she thought he wasn’t looking told Blaine otherwise.