Okay, I need to stop writing new stories without finishing old one's... it's a bad thing. :/ oh well.

I wrote this on an airplane, with my iphone, on Notes. So if it's not too great, my bad. haha

Hope you enjoy! And this is my first Glee Fic, so constructive help is greatly appreciated. Be gentle with me ;_;

Song- Missing Children by Maurice Davis. He's AmAziNG!


"Yuck!" Finn coughed and spat as dust exploded all around him. "What the hell?" he growled.

"My bad..." Puck said, frozen. "I told you I wouldn't be any help, didn't I?"

"I thought," Finn rubbed his eyes with the clean part of his sleeve, "I thought you were just trying to get out of it."

"I was." Puck shoved another cardboard box onto a shelf. "Step-Dad really hasn't been up here in a long time. Why do you have to clean it? It's not your job," Puck growled.

"First of all, as my best friend, you can't get out of it. Second, Burt just asked if I could clear some room up here so we could put stuff from my old house." After that both boys were quiet, preoccupied with their work, Finn determined, and Puck slow and grumpy.

"Hey Finn, what's this?" When Finn turned to look, Puck tossed the biggest roach carcass he could find in his friends direction. Finn barked out a scream and flung himself backwards, arms flailing, knocking over several boxes that landed with him on the ground.

"Puckerman!" Finn growled angrily from the floor, already brushing debris from his shirt. Puck was doubled over in silent laughter, unable to control himself. Finn was about to lift himself up when he saw what surrounded him.

"Dude... You should have," Puck tried to suck in more air, but he was laughing too hard, "seen your... face."

Finn ignored his friend and lifted one of the photos so he could see it in the dim light. It was a young, smiling Burt with a sleeping little boy in his arms. In another photo was the same boy, bright eyed, brown hair sticking out in every direction, standing on Burt's knees with both hands in the air. "You just... fell like a... like a girl..." Puck wiped tears from his eyes. "Uh, Finn, you alright bro?" Puck launched over a pile of boxes and landed silently next to his friend. "Who's this?" he asked lifting a school picture of the boy that had a large '3rd grade' written across the bottom.

"I don't know." Without consulting one another, they began separating the things that obviously fell out of a different box and put the photos, videotapes, and envelopes into another that they could carry downstairs. Burt and Carol were both at work still, so they wouldn't have to worry about them showing up for a few more hours.

As Finn set the box on the table, he started dumping everything out. Most of what filled the box was photos. School pictures, baby photos, and a few that looked like dance photos. The little boy smiled in most of them, but even when he didn't, he looked happy.

"You don't think Burt's some kind of pedophile, do you?" Puck asked.

"No, but did you see a VHS player up there anywhere?" It didn't take long to find about five tape players and grab the one that looked in its best condition.

"If this is something gross or creepy-" Puck started, but was silenced by a pillow to the face.

On screen, the blurry faces of two boys came into focus wearing all black, long sleeve leotards. The boy on the right was the boy in the pictures.

"Kurt, are you nervous?" Burt's unmistakable voice asked from behind the camera. The boy looked like he was thinking very hard before he answered.

"No!"

"Why not?"

"'Cuz we're gonna be... Fantastic!" although it came out more like 'fanastic.'

"Okay, good luck." The camera cut to an auditorium and focused back on the boy, Kurt. For over an hour Puck and Finn watched the home videos and met Kurt Hummel as a baby, his first steps, random birthdays, and unimportant moments.

"Hey Finn, check this out," Puck muttered from the table. He handed Finn an opened envelope and an article cut from a newspaper.

Second page, second line. Continued from the front. Tragedy: another missing child. Authorities confused.

Headline: Local Mother kidnaps son from Father. Finn sat and read the story about Elizabeth Hummel just up and taking her 7-year-old son away from his father.

"If he was seven here, he's about our age..." Finn muttered.

"He'll be seventeen in a few months." Puck and Finn jerked back at the new voice. Burt was leaning against the doorframe, eyes glued to the home video on the screen. 5-year-old Kurt was doing cartwheels around his mother.

"I ought to get home. See you at school." Puck made a run for it, grabbing his backpack off the counter. Though nobody was talking, the undertone of Kurt singing on the television kept the room from an awkward silence.

Without a clue, without a trace, of a smile and face I remember on a cold day in December. White T-shirt, blue jeans, and a jacket. Have you seen her?

"Does Mom know?" Finn asked, the first question he thought of that might keep Burt from being angry with him.

"She knows, but not about all this stuff," Burt sighed. He picked up picture and Finn swore he saw tears in his eyes.

"If you're not looking for him..." Finn didn't want to finish that. To Finn, Burt didn't seem like the type that would stop looking if there was a chance Kurt could be alive.

"They found his mother, dead, in a shack. She'd kept him and she locked inside. They think she locked him under the floorboards for God knows how long. She'd been so sick... That's why she left. The day she left I was going to take her to a hospital, but when I got home, they were gone. When they found her dead, they didn't think a seven-year-old would last long after, especially in the condition he was in. He's probably somewhere in foster care. They say he might not even remember me." Burt sat down next to his stepson, face burrowed in his hands, and cried. Finn put a hand on his shoulder and tried to comfort him.

"Burt, I know I've never even met him, but if it's that kid," he pointed to the TV where a 7-year-old Kurt had his arms wrapped around his fathers neck lovingly, "there's no way he could forget you."

And it's too much to see; I'm too distraught to sleep, so tonight I'm down on my knees. Oh Lord, listen to me when I pray for the missing children, and that no one hurts them, and that you will find a way to bring them home. To their loving daddy's arms, and their momma's hearts won't have to break anymore. Oh, I pray for the children.


Next chapter, Kurt. ;)