Disclaimer: I'm only going to do this once, here at the beginning: I do NOT own Glee, or anything involving it. I make no profit off of this little story of mine.

Warnings: This fic will contain bad language, adult themes, violence, character death, and maleXmale action. If this isn't your kind of thing, this is your chance to leave. Flames will be shrugged off and laughed at. Possible trigger warnings too.

For BiSciFiGuy

You're awesome, dude ;)

Chapter 1: A Brave New World

The weather was grey and wet. The deep pine forests surrounding the two large buildings were slightly hazy as Kurt looked out the window and through the rain, his arms folded over his chest. He found it strange that he would find such beauty here, and ironic since the beauty and freedom shown around him was merely an illusion. Not twenty feet into that forest was a high wall and guards patrolling at all hours. It was essentially a prison, of sorts. And he wasn't going to be getting out of it any time soon. He was doomed to this place; surrounded by blindingly white walls and white tiled floors. Immaculately kept potted plants and overly sterile counters and tables. Bright florescent lighting and false smiles.

A slight sigh escaped his lips, his warm breath condensing against the cold window. He always knew he would get out of Lima, Ohio, but he didn't think it would be to this place, in Washington, effectively locked away from the world.

A shadow passed over him, and he tensed up as someone came to stand near his shoulder, his expression becoming icy.

"How are you holding up, dude?" a quiet voice asked him, and he visibly relaxed. It was just his step-brother, Finn. One of the only people in the world that he still trusted and cared about.

"As well as can be expected." Kurt replied in a clipped tone. He hadn't meant to be snippy, but almost everything he said came out that way, and Finn had learned that it wasn't anything personal. "I don't suppose you've come to tell me that the bastard has changed his mind, and is going to take me back home?"

Finn sighed, wrapping an arm around his step-brother's shoulders. "No. I wish they would, though. I don't like leaving you here, Kurt. You've been getting so much better lately, so I don't get why they had to bring you here."

That was a blatant lie, and they both knew it, but Kurt appreciated Finn's attempt to make him feel better. "Yeah. I don't know what I'm going to do without you. You and Mercedes are the only people that keep me calm and feeling like myself. How am I going to cope here?"

A note of pleading desperation crept into Kurt's voice, and his eyes prickled with unshed tears. Finn tightened his grip around him. "You're strong, Kurt. Strongest guy I know. You can make it though. And I'll visit you every chance I get, I promise. I'll bring Mercedes, too."

"I know you will, Finn. I guess…" Kurt's voice trailed off.

"What?" Finn asked, nudging him slightly.

Kurt's gaze dropped to the white tiles, so clean that they all but sparkled, and he had the urge to drop something filthy just so someone would have to clean it.

"I'm scared, Finn. I'm scared of this place."

"I know what you mean, dude." Finn replied, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Like some horror movie, where they're gonna, like, experiment on you. Sort of like Area 51 or something. Maybe they want the secret to your fashion sense!"

Kurt giggled, nudging Finn in the ribs. "I somehow doubt that, Finn."

"I can totally believe it! They'd like, take samples of your blood, trying to see what makes you so good at fashion and music and stuff." Finn replied, his eyes wide. "It's like one big discrepancy!"

"Conspiracy." Kurt corrected absently, his expression becoming icy again and his shoulders tensing. Finn felt his brother's body become stiff and knew that their parents must be approaching them.

"Stay strong, man." He whispered. "Don't let them see that they're hurting you."

Kurt nodded slightly, keeping his eyes focused anywhere but on the bastard.

"You're all booked in." Burt Hummel announced in a falsely cheery tone as he reached the two boys. "You ready for all of this?"

"Drop dead." Was the only response Kurt gave as he inspected his nails calmly.

"Kurt, you know why we –"

"Fuck off."

"Kurt Hummel, I'm still your father." Burt said angrily.

"Go home." Kurt replied. "You don't want to be here, and I certainly don't want you here. If it wasn't for Finn, I'd be praying to the God I don't believe in that you'd crash on your way back to Lima. Just go, Burt."

Burt's eyes widened and his chest puffed out as he prepared to yell at his son, but Finn stepped between them. "Let's just go." He said wearily. "Kurt doesn't need this right now. Things are already bad enough without another fight."

Carole, Finn's mother, stepped forward and put a hand on Burt's arm. "He's right, honey. Kurt's stressed enough. Don't say things you're going to regret later."

Burt looked into Carole's pleading eyes, then at Finn's resolute face, then, most painfully, at Kurt's stoic, cold expression. He seemed so devoid of emotion, cold and distant, and it broke Burt's heart.

"You're right." He said, visibly deflating. "Kurt, can I at least give you a hug goodbye?"

When Kurt didn't reply, or even threaten him, Burt took that as permission. It was a small hug, quick and awkward, and Kurt didn't respond. Carole came next, and again he just stood there. Then Finn engulfed him in a lamprey-like hold, and Kurt's arms automatically wrapped around him, clinging to his brother.

"I'm going to miss you, Kurt." Finn muttered into his perfectly coifed hair.

"I'm going to miss you too. Say goodbye to Quinn for me when you see her again." Kurt replied. He didn't really care much for his brother's girlfriend, but as long as she made Finn happy he wasn't hostile toward her.

Burt gestured for someone, and a moment later a curly haired man joined them, smiling at Kurt.

"Kurt, this is Dr Schuester." Burt told him. "He'll take you from here."

"Hello Kurt." The man said kindly. "It's nice to meet you."

Kurt looked him up and down before giving a contemptuous sneer. "Charmed, I'm sure."

Burt and Schuester spoke for a moment, and Kurt ignored them. Then he was watching his family leave, his eyes trained on Finn's hunched, retreating form. One of his only friends. Kurt didn't know how he was going to survive this.

"Are you ready to get settled in?" Schuester asked, his voice sickeningly nice and understanding.

"Whatever." Kurt replied with a deep sigh. "Let's go."

Schuester placed a hand on Kurt's shoulder gently and steered him passed the large, white, sterile reception desk and it's horrible, perfectly kept potted plant. They approached a large pair of glass doors that slid open for them as they neared, and Kurt sighed once more. This was it. He was trapped.

"Welcome to the McKinley Institute, Mr Hummel." Schuester said.

The McKinley Institute. That was the new name. A few decades ago, they weren't so careful with their wording, and it was known as the Washington Mental Asylum for the Insane. Personally, Kurt preferred the old name.

Call a spade a spade. If he was going to be insane, he'd at least like to be called insane.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

His room was as bad as he had expected it to be. It wasn't the same, blinding pure white as the rest of the walls he'd seen thus far, rather an ivory sort of color, but he hated it anyway. He decided that, if he managed to spot any tins of paint that were not white, he'd steal it wand throw it at one of the walls simply to add a splash of color to the room. Kurt snickered inwardly at the joke he had just made while he assessed the rest of the room. There was a simple brown bookcase that was built into the wall, and a brown closet that was definitely too small for Kurt's vast collection of clothing. Admittedly, he hadn't brought that much with him, but Finn had promised to bring some of his clothing with each time he made the trip to see him, so he'd have to find somewhere to stow the clothing. The bed was a single, with a pure white blanket and pillow.

Thank Gaga they suggested I bring my own bedding. He thought to himself as he pulled the bedding off, throwing it in a pile in the corner of the room. His blankets were for a queen sized bed, but he would rather have oversized blankets than the sterile white.

His bags had been checked, of course, when they had sent them up two days ago, as per the rules. They were thoroughly inspected for drugs, weapons, alcohol, or anything that could be considered dangerous. Once his blankets were on the bed, he added three pillows and reached for his bags again. He extracted some photos from inside a book, since he hadn't been allowed to keep the frames, and began sticking them to the wall. The first was a picture of himself and Mercedes, from when they were in high school. The next was a candid shot of himself and Mercedes talking at a party, their hands in the air and their mouths open wide as they passionately spoke about whatever they were discussing that night. Next was a picture of Kurt and Finn that Carole had taken. She had snapped it at the perfect time: just as Kurt rubbed his temples in frustration while Finn excitedly blathered on about something. A few more pictures went up on the wall, until there was only one photo left. This one he stuck on the wall above his pillow. It was a picture that Mercedes' father had taken a few days before he had left. Another candid, it showed Finn, Quinn, and Mercedes all hugging Kurt simultaneously while Kurt smiled. He had known it was the last time he'd see them all together at the same time, and for the first time in a long time since his problems had started, he had felt something. He had felt sad and lost, but he was trying to put on a brave face for their sakes.

With a sigh, Kurt stepped back and turned to his bags once more, unpacking the rest of the personal belongings he had brought.

The next day was his first appointment with the psychologist that specialized in sociopathic disorders. Dr Figgins was an unattractive man. His eastern accent was infuriating, and he had no dress sense. Kurt tried his best not to look at the man as they spoke.

"Now Mr Hummel," Figgins began, "it says here in your file that you're nineteen years old, and that your problems first began around a year and a half ago."

"Yeas, that's about right." Kurt replied in a disinterested manner as he looked around the room. His eyes landed on the pot plant near the window and narrowed in dislike. He found himself gaining a newfound hatred for the things.

"The previous psychologist that your father sent you to diagnosed you with mild schizophrenia, but he also stated that that was not the only problem."

This was news to Kurt. Finally giving the man his full attention, he raised a curious eyebrow.

"Oh? What else is wrong with me, then?"

Figgins scanned the notes on his lap for a moment before replying. "He diagnosed you with a form of Hypomania, which is what leads to you feeling irritable most of the time. Also, he says that you have a mild case of Bipolar, as well as Depersonalization Disorder."

"Bipolar I know." Kurt replied, remembering the last fight he'd had with his father. After the argument, he had slashed his father's tires and broken his windscreen in a sudden fit of rage. "But what was that last one? Depersonalization something…"

"Depersonalization Disorder." Figgins repeated. "It's a mental disorder that makes you feel either emotionally or physically detached. Sometimes both. Can you relate to that feeling?"

"Detached…" Kurt mused to himself. Yes, that was how he felt most of the time. He felt no connection to the people around him, and often didn't feel much in the way of emotion. When he did feel emotion he felt almost normal again, but it never lasted, and he would soon be back to faking smiles and laughs.

Figgins noticed the look in Kurt's eyes. "I see that you understand what I'm talking about here."

"Yes, I do." Kurt replied. "Anything else?"

Figgins chuckled at the file in his hands. "Apparently you have a superiority complex as well, but only as a defence mechanism."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, glaring condescendingly at the man, who smirked. It took Kurt a moment to realize that he was doing exactly what the file said, and he knew he was caught. He lowered his gaze, and his posture slumped slightly.

"Yeah…" he mumbled.

"It's alright, Kurt." Figgins said. "If that helps you, then its fine. One day you'll have to learn to control that urge, but for now it's alright to keep your defences up."

Unwillingly, Kurt found himself liking the man.

"I'd suggest not using it in here," Figgins continued, "since we both know its fake, but that's what gets you through the day and keeps you sane, then you should continue until you have a better grip on yourself."

Kurt snorted loudly. "Keeps me sane, Doc? Really?" he asked archly.

"Bad choice of words, maybe." Figgins said with a smile.

After another half an hour, Kurt was told that he could return to his room or explore the Institute. Not really wanting to meet any new people, he decided almost immediately to head to his room, but while he walked down the insanely clean hallways he had a chance encounter with another patient.

Chance encounter was a mild way to put it. The reality was that he was knocked off of his feet as he tried to turn a corner when someone coming from the other direction ran straight into him.

Landing hard on the ground, Kurt jarred his wrist and cursed loudly as he heard the other person groan in pain. Looking up, he found himself looking at an Asian boy roughly his own age. The Asian guy noticed him too and smiled brightly.

"Hi!" he greeted with breathless enthusiasm. "I'm Mike Chang! Who are you? Hey, are you new here? What are you in for? You must be a bit loopy, if you're here, but there's something else too, right? Because that what this place is for, right? We all have a lot of problems, and most of us are totally insane, which is actually pretty cool when you think about it because it's more fun to be around people that are like you, don't you agree? I mean, it'd be boring if we were around normal people all the time, who can't understand us. It's like being in a whacky cartoon. Hey! Speaking of cartoons, what your favourite cartoon? I love Tom and Jerry, it's hilarious. So where are you from? What's your name?"

Kurt just stared at the boy, Mike, in bewilderment. His mouth and brain seemed to work at a mile a minute, and while he normally found chatty people utterly irritating he couldn't help but find the boy's enthusiasm slightly endearing.

"There you are, Mikey." A new voice said, sounding exasperated.

Mike turned around and grinned, if possible, even more widely. "Dave! There's a new guy here! And how come you aren't in therapy? Isn't it time for you to be with Dr Beiste? I wonder where she is. Did you escape? Oh, I bet you did!"

Ignoring Mike, Dave turned to Kurt. "Hey, I'm Dave." He greeted.

"Kurt." Kurt responded shortly, still fixated on Mike. He was actually starting to worry if he might be having a seizure or something.

Following his stare, Dave grinned. "Don't worry, he's always like this. He's got Euphoric Hypomania, so he's always happy. And he's got a severe case of ADHD, so he's got the attention span of a gnat as well as being permanently hyper."

Kurt frowned as he processed this while Mike continued to babble, seemingly unconcerned that no one was listening. "How does he –"

"They sedate him." Dave replied before Kurt could finish. Kurt glared at him, and Dave shrugged. "Everyone always asks that."

"Asks what?" Kurt asked with a haughty expression.

"How Mike gets to sleep."

Kurt huffed, not willing to admit that it was indeed what he was going to ask.

"Hypomania, you say? He asked instead. "Figgins said that I have Hypomania as well, but a kind that makes me irritable."

Dave nodded. "Anyway, I'd better get Mikey here down to the cafeteria before he forgets that he actually needs to eat. Hey, do you wanna come with? You can meet some of the others."

Kurt shook his head. "No thanks. I have unpacking to do." Dave shrugged nonchalantly and turned back to Mike.

"Race you to the cafeteria." He said, and that was all it took before Mike was careening down the hallway at breakneck speed. Dave laughed, gave Kurt a parting wave, and followed after the boy. Kurt shook his head, a slight smile on his lips, and headed for his room. He passed by several other patients, none of whom spoke to him. He was still reeling from his encounter with Mike and his incredibly active mouth when he came across another patient that stopped him.

"Hey there." A tall male greeted with a sly smile. "You're new here, aren't you?"

"What's it to you?" Kurt shot back, instantly dislike this guy. He practically oozed arrogance, and for some inexplicable reason his face strongly reminded Kurt of a meerkat.

"Oh, feisty." The guy said with what Kurt assumed was meant to be a seductive look. If meerkats could look seductive, that is. "I'm Sebastian Smythe. And you are?"

"Leaving." Kurt said, stepping around the boy and continuing down the corridor. He dodged the various staff that were doing things along his way, and occasionally took the opportunity glance into people's rooms as he passed them. Most had been made more personal, displaying that they intended to be staying here for a while. The walls were often painted to suit them, and they had a more 'lived in' look, almost cosy. Kurt began to worry. He knew that he would be spending more than a few weeks in this place, but he didn't realize how permanent of a residence this became for a lot of the patients. He would have to talk to Figgins during his next session and try to figure out the time frame for his stay. Finally reaching his room, he threw himself on his bed and stared up at his roof. The excuse he had given Dave had been fake, of course. He had finished unpacking before his appointment with Figgins. He wanted to be alone, not mixed in with all the crazy people.

He snorted. I AM one of the crazy people. He thought to himself. Still, he wasn't ready to go and meet new people just yet. For now, he just wanted to be alone.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was approaching dinner time, and Kurt's stomach was growling. He didn't want to have to go to the cafeteria, though. He wanted to stay as far away from everyone else as he could, even if Dave and Mike had seemed likable. That other one, the meerkat, was a not likable at all, though.

Kurt just wanted to go home, mental illnesses be damned. He didn't care if he couldn't function in society. He didn't care that he couldn't make friends, or find a boyfriend. He just wanted to be alone in his bedroom, and not some mental ward in Washington.

There was a knock at his door. Growling to himself, he got up off of the bed and dragged his feet toward the door, fully intending to tell whoever was bothering him to get lost. When he opened the door, though, he found himself looking at a young, pretty nurse with long blonde hair and an infectious smile.

"Hi there." She greeted, offering a hand. Kurt shook her hand gingerly, unsure what the nurse wanted.

"Er, hi…"

"Dr Schuester asked me to keep an eye on you, and help you get to the cafeteria for dinner." She told him. "I'm Nurse Holliday, but you can call me Holly."

Kurt cursed inwardly. "Um, could I have a minute to get dressed? Sweatpants and an oversized jersey isn't really dinner material."

Holly scoffed, taking his hand and practically dragging him into the brightly lit hallway and shutting his door behind him.

"This isn't fashion week in Paris. Trust me, you're dressed appropriately. In fact, we occasionally need to enforce the rule that clothing needs to be worn at all down there."

Kurt blanched at that, the idea of eating dinner with a group of naked Neanderthals terrifying him.

"Don't worry." Holly reassured him as they entered an elevator and descended to the ground floor. "It doesn't happen often, and usually only with one or two of the patients."

"Okay…" Kurt whispered, his voice higher than usual.

When they reached the doors leading to the cafeteria, Kurt began to panic. It was like his first day in high school all over again, except that this time the bullies really were psychotic. It was going to be exactly like his first day of high school. He would walk in, get his food, sit alone in the corner of the room, and be ridiculed. The most he could hope for was that he could get out quickly.

"It'll be okay." Holly told him, giving him a slight nudge. "Just go for it."

Kurt sighed and placed his hands on the doors, pushing them open.

Inside the large room were roughly fifty or so patients and a handful of staff to monitor them. Paintings adorned the walls, and there was more color to the room than the hallways.

No one looked up when he opened the door, so Kurt quietly slipped into the line to receive his dinner. He felt awkward and his stomach was in knots. He was on the verge of turning on his heel and heading back to his room when someone tapped his shoulder, making him tense up instantly.

He spun to face the offender, his mouth open and ready to let loose a string of insults, when he found himself looking at Dave. The caught on the tip of his tongue, and he quickly snapped his jaw shut, opting to give the other guy a questioning look.

"Hi Kurt." Dave said casually. "I know you're new here, so I was wondering if you'd like to join Mike and me at our table. It sucks to sit alone, even here."

"What makes you think I'd be sitting alone?" Kurt asked with an arched eyebrow, but his mind went off on another track. Shit Kurt, why'd you say that? The only person that's being nice to you, and you mouth off like a bitch? Great start, there.

Dave's expression faltered. "Oh, um, sorry. I didn't know you had someone else to sit with. I'm sorry, I'll leave you alone."

As he turned to leave, Kurt sighed and looked at his feet. He was about to apologize when the lady that was dishing up their food asked for his tray, and by the time he looked back Dave was already gone. He a heartfelt sigh he took his tray back, thanked the serving lady, and meandered off to find a table. As he moved through the room, he expected someone to yell and call him names, like high school, but no one seemed to be paying much attention to him. In fact, the few times he dared to look someone in the eye he found that while their stares weren't openly friendly they were far from hostile. Eventually he found an empty table next to a large, leafy pot-plant. Glaring at the offending shrubbery, Kurt took a seat and began pushing his food around with his plastic fork. When he dared to look up again, he saw Dave look at him from across the room, and immediately dropped his gaze back to his plate. He scooped up a forkful of mashed potato and stuck it in his mouth, surprised to find that the food wasn't half bad. Pushing the meat to one side, he ate the mashed potato and the vegetables before standing up and taking his tray back to the serving counter. He thanked them again and walked out of the cafeteria, heading back up to his room. He felt like a complete loser, having to eat alone. Now he missed Finn and Mercedes more than ever. Hell, he'd even take Quinn.

I didn't realize just how bad I am at making friends. He thought miserably. This place is going to be total torture.

When he reached his room, he turned the bedside lamp on and switched the main light off, grabbing a book and curling up under the covers. He flipped thought the pages until he found where he had last left off and let himself fall into the book's world, letting reality fade away into the background. Someone must have come to check up on him at some point, because when he woke up a few hours later needing the bathroom, his bedside lamp was off and his book was resting on the table with a blank piece of paper marking where he was.

"I hate this place." Kurt muttered as he climbed back under his blankets and closed his eyes once more.

~XoXoX~