A/N: Here's chapter 2 for those of you who alerted, favorited, and in one case, reviewed! Thanks so much for the support! I should be working on Because of Me, and I even got a great suggestion for the next chapter, but I can't seem to get past the writers block. You can thank my procrastination on that one for this story. And yes, the angsty mood remains in this chapter.

Reviews = love! (and suggestions for how to continue this story are welcomed. I really am not sure where I'm going with it, so chances are if you share an idea I'll end up using it at one point or another.)

Disclaimer: Glee is mine as much as this story is fluffy

Smith arched an eyebrow. "Drugs? What kind of drugs?"

I focused on my breathing. In, out. In, out. We both knew that if his acting skills weren't impeccable, I was in for it. My pulse continued to quicken and I could feel it. Could they hear it too? I just tried to stay in control as I watched Blaine fidget nervously in the grasp of two 'henchmen' that were pinning his arms. It was easy for me to tell that he kept trying to run a hand through his hair, and every time he tried the grip on his arms tightened. We locked eyes and I saw the steely resolution hiding the panic and terror that threatened to reign at any given moment.

"Stimulants," he finally responded, voice barely wavering.

"Really?" The word was long, drawn out, and I shook almost imperceptibly beneath my captor.

Blaine just nodded, meeting Smith's cold, calculating gaze. He was stock-still, whole body tensed up. I was the same.

"I can't say I believe you. They say that if someone is desperate enough, they will make things up to get out of the pain. I hope this isn't one of those cases."

"It isn't. I wouldn't joke about something so important." His voice was so steady by now he almost had me convinced.

Smith paused for a moment, a frightening smile on his face. "I'll give you two a while to decide what you want to do. I'm not buying any of this, you know," my heart sank as he continued, "And maybe some alone time will help you realize I'm not playing. Just remember that one of you is definitely disposable."

And with that, he left us.

Blaine was released and he ran over to me, stumbling a little bit as he did. He was about to throw himself at me, but stopped. A hug would just hurt me. Instead he gently put his arms around me, crying into my shoulder. And even though it was hard, I tried to comfort him. I didn't have any words to tell him it would be all right, because in all honesty it probably wouldn't. But sitting on the ground with this boy in my arms, it was easier to keep myself together. Because if I fell apart, who else would be there for him? Not his family. Not his friends. And I couldn't let myself, or him for that matter, fall apart quite yet.

"I- I can't lose you," he sniffled pitifully into my now blood-stained shirt. That would be a nightmare to get out.

"You won't. But you need to calm down. Shhhh," I whispered soothingly. I wasn't sure why I suddenly felt so calm, but I did.

"H-h-how?" That word seemed like it took such an effort to get out, and my heart wrenched uncomfortably. As hard as it was to be used as a human punching bag, I couldn't imagine being in his position.

"Just relax. If you don't calm down and think about this logically we'll never have a plan. And we need one to get out of here."

He continued to cry, the sobs slowly dying out into silent tears. He was still shaking, but it was something. I gently removed him from me, wincing when my head throbbed painfully. Instead of just letting go, he clung harder, and I gasped in pain. The soft noise seemed to startle him enough to gather his wits, and I waited a few more seconds before attempting to plan.

"So we realized that playing dumb-"

"I'm not playing! I really don't know anything!" I sighed exasperatedly at his outburst.

"I know that. But if you keep saying that, I'm going to keep getting hit, and I'm not so sure we want that," Blaine paled and I quickly rushed on, "So I think we need a cover. A good cover, though. We can't have any holes."

He just shook his head, and it was almost as if he was looking through me. His eyes were unfocused and I was starting to get a little worried.

Blaine was always the strong one. He seemed unshakeable. He helped me confront Karofsky, he sang to me, and he made me realize that maybe the word wasn't so dark after all. But here he was, breaking to pieces in front of me. And none of it made any sense. Because this couldn't be the same person who told me that I moved him. This couldn't be the person who stood up for me when nobody else would. And this most definitely couldn't be the person who opened the door for me, who asked me to prom, or who gave me the first real kiss that counted. I struggled through the memories and moved on with the plan.

"You said stimulants? Remember that, okay? Unless you want to change it…"

"No. Stimulants are fine. I don't think I could remember anything new," he admitted, "I'm too freaked out. It's like it's all just a nightmare and I'm gonna wake up any second. But nightmares aren't supposed to hurt. And this hurts. A lot."

My voice cracked as I replied, "It does. But we have to get through it. Now, pretend I'm Smith."

"Smith?"

"Evil guy with the creepy smile? The reason we're here? 'This is bigger than you.' Ring a bell?" His smile was watery, but it was there.

"Yeah, got it."

"Okay. What is the name of the ring?"

His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "We never-"

I interrupted him, "It's improvisation. You aren't going to know the answer to every question. Just make something up, and make sure everything you say after that fits in with what you just said."

The look on his face said all I needed to hear. He was lost. Hopelessly lost. I had years upon years of musical theater and acting classes to work with, but he had nothing.

"Again. What's the name of your father's ring?"

He thought for a moment. "Speed."

"Too easy to decipher. It almost sounds amateur. Try again."

We continued patiently until facts had been established. Every so often one of us would fall into tears, and the other would hold us tightly. We said meaningless nothings, but we never said it would be okay. We had no proof that it would.

When we finally had the basics down and Blaine's improv was slightly less awful than it had been before, we just talked. And I knew why Smith had left us alone. Every second we were together was a second closer to not being able to let go. Not even if it meant dying together, which we would never be given the luxury of. We would be easy, so easy to crack. And as I looked at Blaine laughing, talking about some story or another and gesticulating in his wild way, I knew I wasn't letting him go.

Xxx

"Well then, I assume you remembered everything you needed to remember?" The question was directed at Blaine, but I answered instead.

"He's ready."

Even as I said it, the statement seemed to contradict the evidence. Blaine was quite obviously shaking, looking directly at me. I gave him the smallest of smiles, hoping it seemed reassuring in a way. He seemed to calm himself down somewhat, and for a moment I believed he was fine. Then I noticed his hands clenched into fists at his sides, and they were shaking with a huge amount of intensity; I was surprised they didn't move more than they already were.

"First question, I suppose. But before we begin, let me make things very clear. This boy," with a sense of disgust I realized he didn't even know my name, "is by no means important to us. When we finish with him, he will be disposed of. But his condition when we do so is completely controllable. Why, he can be perfectly unharmed if you comply with our demands. Is that understood, Anderson?"

But Blaine was frozen. After a few painfully long seconds, he replied, "D-disposed of?"

In all honesty, that had been my first thought, too. But had I really expected any different? I'd been dragged into all this mess unwillingly, and now I knew things I'd never wanted to know in the first place. That didn't make it any harder for them to hit me.

"Well, naturally. We aren't going to let someone privy to this much information and then let him go. He'd tell everyone about this. And this is to be kept secret."

"Then why did you even bring him here? Why didn't you just bring me? I would've answered you! You didn't have to do this! You didn't have to any of this!" His tone had become murderous and I cringed away at the sound of it. It was the angriest I'd ever seen (or heard) him.

"You already know the answer to that. And you wouldn't have because we couldn't hurt you. We could ask you all you want, but bring someone you actually care about into the picture and we have a party, don't we? Now, I believe I'm the one asking the questions? Unless, of course, you'd rather I spoke with him," he gestured towards me and the anger was immediately replaced by fear.

"First question, then?" A pause. "When did you find out your father was in a ring?"

"Two years ago." Good, very good. I found myself about to nod approvingly until I realized that would give us away. We were being watched.

"How did you find out?"

He took a deep breath before answering, "I walked in on a meeting."

"Where was the meeting?"

"In our family room."

The questions went on and on, invariably growing more complicated. Somehow Blaine managed to keep his cool and answered each one with near perfection. In this case, though, near perfection wasn't good enough. About an hour or two in, the tactic suddenly changed and the look in Smith's eyes shifted just a little bit.

"What did you say the man's name was?"

"Martin."

"Really? Because an hour ago you said it was Madison. I'm starting to doubt that anything you said was true."

Blaine paled. It was a miniscule error, but any error could be fatal.

"I'm sure you don't want this," the breath left my body as I was swiftly kneed in the ribs, "to happen again."

I curled around my side, every shallow breath inflaming the pain more. I didn't know how long I stayed there, but the room was quiet. Every so often I would hear a sob coming from him (who else) and it wrenched at my heart. But this was the way it was. It was hard to focus on any one thing, though, because of my side. It felt like it was on fire, and I dimly remembered breaking my arm when I was thirteen. The pain was comparable, but then I knew I was going to be fine. I knew it wasn't going to end badly. I knew I'd survive. Without meaning to, or even realizing why, I burst into tears. I cried for the pain. I cried for the direness of the situation. I cried for my friends and family who I'd never see again.

After what felt like an eternity, the pain started to subside. I tried to get up, but wasn't able to. Helpless, I just lay on the cool, dusty floor and waited for someone to do something. I didn't have to wait long before Blaine spoke up.

"What do you want to know? Please, please just tell me so this can be o-ver!" His voice cracked harshly on the last word and the desperation was almost tangible. I could feel the panic in the air and wondered, not for the first time, what I'd done to get myself into this mess. And why I'd had to drag Blaine into it with me.

"I want the truth," Smith growled, looking at him with murder in his eyes. "And if you aren't willing to give it to me, we can just get rid of this kid and move on. Your parents would pay quite a pretty ransom for you, boy."

"I-I can give it to you. And no, they wouldn't. They always hated me anyways. They'd probably thank you for getting rid of me," he said bitterly.

"You know what? I'm sick of you. And I'm tired. I'm giving you the night to make up your mind. Just know that your friend here screams awful pretty." And with that, he left the room for the night.

My face was still pressed up against the cement, side aching, when he came over to me. He helped me up, ignoring my weak protests.

We ended up sitting in silence, me resting my head against his shoulder. I assumed he was deciding what to do by the look on his face, and I let him think in peace. No matter how skewed the logic, I felt it wasn't my decision to make. Maybe it was my life, but it was going to end anyway. With this grim thought I slowly started to fall asleep, my tired muscles slowly loosening.

Just as I was on the brink of unconsciousness, I heard a broken whisper ask, "What are we gonna do?"

I had no answer for him.