Now, come on, guys. I know there are people reading and adding this to alerts and favorites! It doesn't take long to type something as simple as a smiley face. Seriously. Please review. They make me happy, motivate me to write, and this week has sucked.

Also, I've just realized that none of the line breaks were missing in the previous chapters. Not sure why, but I've gone back and fixed it. I apologize for any confusion.

WARNINGS: I have completely fucked with medical science. Mpreg (not slash).

Disclaimer: Glee doesn't belong to me.

Taken
Chapter 4

"Would you keep it?" Quinn asked, looking down at Puck while his head lay in her lap. "If we got out of here and the baby lived...would you?"

"Yes," he murmured without a thought.

Quinn nodded, unsurprised, as she kept carding her fingers through greasy curls.

"You ever think about whose it is?"

"Sometimes," she replied as her eyes moved to the stomach that they guessed put him at seven months and them sometime in February.

"Probably your eggs, but for all we know, one of those guys gave a donation."

Quinn grimaced. "Please don't ever say that again. I don't want to think about my eggs being anywhere near their..." She shuddered.

Puck snorted. "Could be mine too."

"I wouldn't mind that," she said softly, meeting his gaze. He stared back up at her, mouthing her name as she bent down. She stopped an inch away from his lips, her eyes on his neck because of their angle. Gasped into the kiss when he closed the distance.

"Britt?"

Brittany looked behind her, smiling softly at Santana before she turned back to the window, head pillowed in her arms. It was snowing outside. Romantic. Perfect for Valentine's Day. Maybe she'd be able to get Santana to take a walk with her later. She could offer to warm up with a hot shower after.

Santana sat beside her on the couch, legs pulled up to her chest as she looked at the snow falling.

"You think we would have won Sectionals? If Puck and Quinn had been there?" Brittany asked.

"Yeah," Santana said, head against the glass.

They hadn't even competed. When the new year started and Puck and Quinn were still missing, it hadn't felt right. Even if they'd managed to find the members. Lauren had left. Sam moved. They went from thirteen members to nine.

Someone—and she'd put her money on Finn or Rachel—had put a picture of Puck and Quinn on the piano on the first day of school. No one ever moved it, though Rachel did sing to it once.

They still had no idea what had happened. One second, they were there and the next, they weren't. The cops had found Quinn's headband somewhere outside, but no one ever came forward with any information and the trail went cold. People disappeared in New York all the time. By now, they were probably dead.

It sucked.

She and Quinn were never close, but she and Puck... She never loved him and he never loved her, but he gave a crap. He listened to her cry about Brittany when the blonde had chosen Artie. He let her stay at his place when her parents' fighting got too loud and things started getting thrown. Neither of them deserved any of this and their families didn't deserve to not know what happened.

Brittany grabbed her hand and squeezed, pushing Santana's legs apart so she could get in between and hug her. "We should give them a duet at the graduation performance."

"Brittany, they're not-"

"They're not dead, Santana," Brittany said firmly, eyes locked on the Latina's. "They're not."

Santana shook her head sadly and wished that Brittany was right.

I'm not stupid. I know he's not okay. He puts on a face and he pretends that it's all fine, but he's wasting away. We're staying clean enough that he hasn't gotten sick, but the strain and the baby are wearing him out. His stomach keeps getting bigger, but the rest of him is just…disappearing. The proportions are just so wrong. I can't even guess where he is time-wise anymore.
I heard the men yelling when he was asleep. Someone messed up. I don't know how, but they're scared. They think the cops might be close. One of them wants to run, but someone said it wasn't safe to move Puck at this point.
Someone, please find us.
We need to get out of here. He needs to be okay. The baby needs to be okay.
I love them both too much to lose them.

"Puck? What's wrong?" she asked, worried as she kneeled on the floor beside the mattress.

Puck shook his head. "M'okay. Kid just kicked pretty hard."

Quinn didn't believe him and Puck knew it, but he wouldn't worry her even more than she already was. She didn't need to know the way his heart was racing or how his vision had blacked out for a few seconds when he sat up. There wasn't anything she could do anyway. He didn't want to chance her getting worried enough that she'd do something stupid and get herself killed. If by some crazy miracle they made it out of this alive, he wanted her to be next to him when they got home.

"I'm okay," he said, even as his world titled sideways.

Gunshots and screams woke them up. Puck sat up too fast and fell back down, dazed and nauseous as Quinn pulled him into a sitting position and moved in front of him. They were both shaking, flinching with every shot that rang through their prison.

Then she heard it.

"NYPD!"

She doubled over, hands over her mouth as a sob ripped through her. Ran to the door and started banging her fists against it. "IN HERE! WE'RE IN HERE!"

"Quinn, get over here!" Puck yelled at her, one hand on his belly.

"They won't hear us if I-"

"They're gonna search every fucking room. They'll find us. Scare them when they burst in here and they're gonna blow you away. Now get your ass over here!"

Quinn did, clutching Puck's hand as she kissed him, ignoring the bad breath the way they had for months. "We're going home."

Puck pressed his forehead against hers as they both looked at his stomach. "Yeah. Home."

The door opened with a bang and they both jumped. Quinn spun around, one hand still holding onto Puck's. The tears started flowing the second she saw the uniforms.

"Please," she whispered. "We..."

One of the cops holstered his gun and walked over to them slowly, palms showing. "It's okay. My name is Detective Riley Harper." He nodded towards the man standing behind him. "That's my partner, Detective Max Peterson. What's your name?"

"Q-Quinn. Quinn Fabray. He's Noah Puckerman. Please, he needs a hospital."

"Okay," Detective Harper said. "He'll be okay."

"He's pregnant."

In any other situation, the bewildered look that overtook both detectives' faces would have been funny, but here and now...

"He's pregnant," she said again. "They did something to us. They...look!" She spun to point at Puck, kneeling beside him again.

"Oh, my God..." Detective Peterson breathed, horrified.

Detective Harper didn't take his wide eyes off of Puck as he reached for his radio. "This is Harper. We need a bus. Tell the hospital to be on standby. We need an OB/GYN...and a surgeon. Make sure nobody's there that doesn't need to be there."

He clipped it back to his side and kneeled down beside the teens. "Noah, can you tell me how far along you are?"

"I don't know," Puck said, shaking his head. "They haven't told me anything. We don't know..."

"Puck? Look at me. What's wrong?"

"Q, I don't feel so good..."

"Puck? PUCK!"

TBC

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