Summary: Two years ago Kurt's boyfriend was kidnapped and supposedly murdered. Two years ago Blaine was ripped away and brainwashed into believing his captor loved him. Its two years later and they've been reunited, but it's not everything they imagined it would be.
Warning: Some violence.
A/N: You guys are so great! I can't believe how many reviews I've gotten is such a short amount of time. I'm glad you're so interested in my story, especially since it's a bit different from anything I've ever written before. I'll be honest the formatting with the timeline is totally new for me, but I feel like it works for this story. Thank you so much for your support.
Also I know before I said this chapter was going to be shorter than the others, but somehow my chapters always seem to get longer when I edit them.
Chapter 3: One Week
August 2011
Blaine looked up when the door to the house opened and another man stepped inside. This man was more muscular than the one who'd originally kidnapped him and was also wearing a woollen baklava.
"Good job," the bigger guy growled as he looked towards Blaine, "you brought back a pet."
The word pet set him off. He'd spent too much of his life being treated like a lesser being or an animal because of who he was. He opened his mouth, letting the words spill out indignantly before he could stop himself. "I'm not a pet. I'm a teenager. I don't know if your tiny brain can wrap around this, but there is a difference."
The moment the words finished blurting from his lips he knew he'd been stupid; that he'd made a huge mistake.
"I'm the one with the tiny brain?" The man chuckled ominously and took a step forward to grab Blaine by the hair, shoving a gun against his cheek. "You're the idiot mouthing off to the guy who could cause you a lot of pain right now. Who do you think is the one being stupid here?"
Every muscle in his body seemed to freeze and his eyes widened at the painful pressure against the side of his face. His eyes flickered from Cal to the unnamed man, waiting in terrified silence for someone to speak, or do something. He never should have opened his mouth. "I am," he mumbled desperately. "I'm sorry. I'm stupid. I'm the stupid one."
"Yeah I bet you're sorry." The gun jerked tighter against his cheek. "I bet you wish you'd never opened your stupid mouth, don't you?"
A whimper bubbled from his lips, "Yes." He could swear the pressure against his cheek was going to bruise it spectacularly.
"Just who do you think is in charge here, exactly?" The man asked, his voice lowering to a dangerously quiet tone. "Who do you think gets to choose if you live or die?"
"You," he whispered his answer quickly, droplets welling up in his eyes despite himself. "You do. I'm sorry. Please- please don't- please don't kill me."
"I won't, for now," the man drew the gun away his cheek and moved to tap it gently against his lips, keeping a hold of his hair, "but you listen to me carefully, any more trouble from you and I won't hesitate to put my gun in your pretty little mouth and pull the trigger, got it?"
He nodded his head very slightly, not daring to part his lips to speak.
"You won't," Cal said with a small laugh, a glint in his eye. "You know how much he's worth. Now stop scaring the poor kid, alright? Save it for later."
Blaine let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding when the man let him go and let his head sink downward so he was looking at the floor rather than either of the men who currently held his life in their hands. Somehow he wasn't quite as sure as Cal that this man wouldn't murder him if he felt like it.
He barely watched as the new man shoved a few sheets of paper at Cal. "Considering how much he's worth, I'll agree."
"Wow," Cal muttered, looking between the paper and where he was taped to the chair. "Looks like Blainey-boy's worth quite a bit of money." He paused and let out a snicker. "I almost don't want to wait to call his Mommy and Daddy."
"Are you an idiot?" The other man shook his head and grabbed the papers back. "We should call them now, before they get their lines tapped or something. You really are an idiot, aren't you?" He let out a growl and pulled a pen from his inner coat pocket, before starting to write. He then shoved the papers at Cal, before pulling out his cell phone. "What's the boy's number?"
The man dialled as Cal read out the number on his hand. He then pressed the phone hard against Blaine's face with one hand, and pressed his gun against his temple with the other. His body seemed to freeze again and he bit down on his lip hard as he listened to the phone ring.
When his dad picked up the phone, he sounded irate. "Who the hell is it? Blaine that better be you. You're late, again."
He tried to get out a word, but his mouth just opened and closed silently.
"Hello? Who the hell is this?" He heard his father ask again, sounding even more impatient.
It wasn't until the unnamed man pulled something back on his gun, making it click and mouthing at him dangerously to speak, that he actually managed to get a word out. "D-dad?" Blaine asked; his voice somewhat squeaky. "Dad, it's me."
"Blaine?" His father's voice only sounded slightly less irritated. "Where are you calling from? I don't recognize the number."
"I- I don't know Dad," Blaine murmured in a shaky tone, his voice becoming hoarse and wet as tears formed again in his eyes. "I don't know where I am."
The irritation drained completely from his father's voice, replaced suddenly by worry. "What do you mean you don't know where you are?"
Cal shoved the paper in front of his face and he took the hint. "D-dad," he stuttered in a soft voice, "they- they're going to kill me if-if you don't give them a quarter million dollars." He paused for a short moment. "If you call the police they'll kill me and- and if you take too long with the money they're going to start hurting me- so if you love me you have to get the money in a week." His voice started shaking even harder as he whispered, "I-if y-you don't they'll st-start br-breaking bones. The- the longer you take- the- the worse they-they're going to hurt me."
"Blaine," his father's voice was suddenly soothing, "don't you worry. Everything will be alright, I promise."
"Dad," Blaine whispered, a tear suddenly sliding down his cheek, "they'll call again in a week."
"Blaine, son," his father soothed again, "just stay strong for me buddy. Everything's going to be okay. I love you, okay? I love you and we're going to get through this. Your mom and I will pay whatever they want and then you'll come home, okay?"
"O-okay Dad," he said with a tight swallow, "I-I love you too. I- tell Mom, Bri and Joey I love them, okay?"
"You'll tell them yourself when you come home." His father's voice was firm, but the firmness was undermined by the slight anxious wavering that was apparent as he added, "I'll get you home son, I promise."
"Dad I-I'm scared," he admitted in a hoarse, faltering whisper, still feeling the cold metal pressed tightly against his temple. Scared was a mild word for what he was feeling. He was so petrified he was sure that with or without the tape he wouldn't have been able to move at all.
The man pulled the phone away from him before his father could form a reply, snapping it shut and stepping away from the bound boy. He levelled a dark stare at him, "You should be scared. You better hope they do what we say boy, or else you're dead." There was a soft chuckle. "As a matter of fact, I think you're dead either way."
Blaine started pulling at the tape binding him hard, "B-but please! I haven't seen your faces. I can't identify you or anything. I-I won't say anything. M-my family and I won't say anything. Please, w-we'll just pretend nothing ever happened, I promise!"
"Aw come on man," Cal spoke up after a moment. "We don't have to kill the kid. I mean seriously, it isn't like he can tell anyone who we are or anything and he's just a kid." Cal looked at Blaine with some compassion in his eyes, "I mean look; he's terrified. He's not going to tell no one anything."
"I won't tell," Blaine promised desperately, his voice hoarse, "I won't. I promise."
"Look man, this isn't what I signed up for. I'm not murdering some kid." Cal stepped between Blaine and the other man as he spoke firmly, "We'll ransom him off and then let him go."
The man raised his gun and squeezed the trigger. Blaine gave a wordless yell, his eyes wide as he heard the gun go off and Cal fell backwards, landing right at his feet. His breathing quickened in terror as Cal became deathly still and the nameless man stepped forward to kick him lightly in the ribs, "Dumb idiot." He turned to Blaine, yanking the wool mask off his face. "Well guess what kid, now you've seen my face and you've seen me commit murder; so there ain't no way you're getting out of this alive."
August 2011
Usually he called on Blaine's cell phone but he kept getting the recording stating that the phone was no longer in service. Nonetheless when he called the Anderson's home line Kurt had been expecting Blaine to answer the phone. He'd been expecting to discuss with his boyfriend whether or not Blaine would transfer to McKinley the following year. He'd been expecting the easy conversations he was used to.
He was certainly not expecting Mr. Anderson to be the one answering the phone. "Hello, Anderson residence." The voice sounded nervous and faltering and not at all like the Mr. Anderson Kurt had met several times before. Kurt frowned; Blaine's father sounded terrified.
"Um hello Mr. Anderson, this is Kurt. Could I speak to Blaine please?" He asked uncertainly.
"I'm afraid not," Mr. Anderson told him, and Kurt could swear he heard the other man's voice choking up.
Something uncomfortable settled in Kurt's stomach. "Can I ask why? Is Blaine grounded or something?"
There was a long pause and the uncomfortable feeling in Kurt's stomach tightened as he awaited the answer. Something just wasn't right here. "Yes," Mr. Anderson told him in a voice that was thick with untruth, "for at least a week. He's- he's not allowed to leave the house, have friends over or- or talk to anyone."
"Oh," Kurt said in a soft voice; at least that kind of explained why Blaine's phone wasn't working. He swallowed thickly before asking in a quiet tone, "Could I just have him for a quick second? If I can't see or talk to him for a week- I'd just like to tell him I love him, if that's okay?"
There was another uncomfortable stretch of silence before Mr. Anderson replied in an oddly choked voice, "I'll tell him for you Kurt. You can try calling back in a week or so, alright?"
"I- okay," Kurt's usually smooth face crinkled at the oddness of the conversation. "I'll try back next week. Goodbye Mr. Anderson."
"I will tell him for you," Mr. Anderson interjected in an oddly croaky voice. "Goodbye Kurt. Do call back next week- I'm sure Blaine will be missing you immensely. He loves you too."
Kurt frowned, a little taken aback. From all his previous conversations (few and far between and terribly awkward) Mr. Anderson hadn't much approved of their relationship; though he never said so out loud. His sudden acceptance of it was just a little disconcerting.
The dial tone interrupted him and he set down his phone, his brows still furrowed in confusion.
Why on earth did Mr. Anderson sound so frightened? And, for that matter, why was he so intent of getting Kurt off the phone?
Kurt's stomach tightened again, remembering how intent Mr. Anderson was on not letting Blaine talk to him even more a moment. He picked up his phone again and dialled the number.
"Hello, Anderson residence?" The faltering, terrified worry of Mr. Anderson's voice came through the phone again.
"Mr. Anderson, has something happened to Blaine?" Kurt asked quickly. "Something you can't tell me about? Is he hurt or something?"
"I don't have time for idle conversations right now Kurt," Mr. Anderson told him tersely. "I will tell Blaine you called. You can call back next week but in the mean time I have serious business to attend to so I would appreciate it if you didn't tie up my phone lines."
"I-I'm sorry," Kurt stuttered softly, "I'll- I'll just go now." He hung up the phone and stared at his wall. Blaine's father's defensive reaction had spoken what his words couldn't. Something had happened to Blaine. He chewed his lip and grabbed his pillow squeezing it.
Something in his heart told him that something had happened to Blaine and something else told him that there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
September 2013
Kurt slumped in Blaine's arms and was pulled from them abruptly. Blaine didn't fight as Pierre shoved the unconscious boy into the wooden chair and started tying him down with rope. Instead he sat huddled on the floor, tears slipping helplessly from his eyes.
"Stop crying fairy," Pierre snarled at him and Blaine immediately started wiping at his eyes furiously with the backs of his hands. Pierre sent him a glare. "Go get something to gag him with, now."
He rose to his feet with a soundless nod and walked down the hall to the closet. He opened the door quietly and pulled out a scarf, before knotting the center and returning to Pierre. He held out the scarf hesitantly, but Pierre just chuckled at him.
"Go ahead and gag your little boyfriend Blainey," Pierre smirked at him, pulling Kurt's lolling head back with a hand in his hair.
"Please, just let him go," Blaine whispered, wringing the scarf in his hands and biting on his lip. "We can go somewhere else."
"I don't think so," Pierre growled, pressing the gun to Kurt's cheek tightly.
Blaine winced. It looked like Pierre was pressing that gun hard enough into Kurt's cheek that it might bruise. "Then let me deal with him, please."
Pierre chuckled softly and let Kurt's head fall forward. "Fine, he's all yours. He's your responsibility. If he escapes, I will track him down and kill him, then you will be punished; do you understand?"
Blaine nodded his head vigorously, stepped forward with the scarf and gently tying it around Kurt's mouth so the knot was nestled between his lips. He took a deep breath and carefully probed the wound on Kurt's temple with his fingers.
He swallowed thickly and looked up at Pierre. "C-can I clean him up, please?"
"He's your responsibility Blainey," Pierre reminded him with a shrug. "I'll be napping on the couch. Take his belongings and put them on the table. Afterwards I don't care what you do with him as long as he's still tied and gagged when I wake up."
Blaine nodded, biting his lip silently. He carefully removed Kurt's cell phone from his pocket and placed it quietly on the table. It was all he could find in his pockets, the wallet having fallen forgotten in the alleyway when Pierre had interrupted their reunion.
Once Pierre was lying down on the couch he stepped over to the kitchen sink and wet a napkin slightly. He pulled a chair in front of Kurt and started carefully wiping the blood from the other boy's temple.
Kurt's eyes blinked softly and looked up at him, letting out a muffled groan through the gag.
"Hey, hey," Blaine whispered softly with a weak smile as he continued to dab at the wound. "Just stay calm baby. I'm going to take care of you, I promise." The term of endearment just slipped out. He had no idea if it was appropriate or not, but it just felt right.
Kurt's eyes flickered to his arm and he followed the gaze. Dried blood was crusted over the cut and was still oozing a little fresh blood out onto his arm.
"I'm fine," he promised him with a weak smile. "I'll fix myself up as soon as I'm done looking after you, okay?"
Kurt tried to say something, but it was muffled through the scarf gagging him. He gave Blaine a pleading look, but the boy just shook his head.
"I'm sorry babe, I'm not allowed," Blaine told him tenderly, grimacing as Kurt winced when he wiped the bruising cut again. "I'm sorry. I know it hurts." He carefully tilted Kurt's face up by his jaw and pressed a gentle kiss to the boy's cheekbone, which probably wasn't very appropriate either considering their situation.
Again he couldn't help but not care. This was Kurt, the boy, or man he supposed was now a more accurate description, who he'd missed so desperately and still loved even after two difficult, terrifying years of separation.
Kurt stared at him, tears welling up in his eyes.
It was enough to make Blaine want to cry himself to see those beautiful glasz eyes shining wet with tears. They were finally together again, but everything was so wrong. "I'm sorry Kurt. I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do. He'll kill me; worse, he'll kill you. I have to do what he says. I just have to."
Sobs started breaking from his throat and he leaned over, pressing his forehead into Kurt's lap.
A/N: Was anyone else totally pissed that the Warblers just walked away when Blaine was screaming on the ground in pain in the Michael Jackson episode? I expected some of them to at least try to see if he was okay. Some friends… yeesh. Anyways, that's my mini-rant. Chapter 4 will be posted on Tuesday February the 7th.
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