Hello,

here is chapter four. This chapter was pretty difficult for me to write. Nevertheless, here it is!

Disclaimer

Action and reaction, ebb and flow, trial and error, change - this is the rhythm of living. Out of our over-confidence, fear; out of our fear, clearer vision, fresh hope. And out of hope, progress.
Bruce Barton

Blaine waited with bated breath as Burt talked on the phone with a Detective. He could hear Burt's voice rising twenty octaves and he knew it wasn't good. "You can't be serious!" Blaine wanted to stick his head around the corner but Carole shook her head and motioned for him to sit at the kitchen table. "No! I am not happy. You have no leads and I'm sick of waiting around. Kurt is not going to waltz through my door of his own account and you know that! Yes, we will be in touch."

The silence rang through the house. It wasn't normal. This wasn't normal. After a few minutes, Burt came into the kitchen and went to the stove to put their lunch on plates. He didn't talk and he didn't make eye contact with Carole or Blaine.

Carole waited one more minute before getting up from the table and going to stand by Burt. He knew she was there but he spoke with his back to her anyway. "It's been three days, and they have no leads." His voice shook and he hated that he couldn't look at his wife. It was all wrong. He wasn't supposed to feel like a stranger to her. He wasn't supposed to get up from bed in the middle of the night because he couldn't sleep next to her soundly knowing that Kurt wasn't in his room down the hall. But as he laid on the couch, he realized that he couldn't sleep at all.

Carole put her hand on his shoulder, relaxing when he didn't shake her away. "Who did you speak with?" she asked softly.

"Some Detective named Sam Taylor." He finished shoveling the chicken fingers onto three plates-Finn was taking a walk-and took a seat across from Blaine.

Blaine looked at the food in front of him, his meager appetite now vanishing as he thought about what Burt said. Kurt was out there and here he was, sitting at his kitchen table for God-sakes eating a plate of chicken fingers!

He couldn't do this anymore.

He pushed back from the table and was able to reach the door before Burt called him back to the table. He thought about his options: he could keep going and walk like Finn, or he could sit back down and talk with Burt.

He made his way back to the table and sat down roughly, avoiding the eyes on him.

Burt took a deep breath. "Tell me what you're thinking, kid."

Blaine glanced up from under his lashes. He could tell Burt was struggling to keep calm and be strong for him. Why? Was it because Burt knew how much he cared for Kurt? It must be because although Burt's gaze was unwavering and he was sitting with his hands crossed on the table in front of him patiently, Blaine could see the tears welling up in his eyes.

Blaine decided to spill, after all, if Burt didn't want him to tell the truth, he wouldn't be sitting across from him now. "I'm angry! I'm pissed off that Kurt is with some psycho and the FBI agents are probably on their lunch break right now!"

Carole reached across the table and grabbed his hand. He could feel her thumb running circles across his palm and he was grateful for the contact.

Burt gave him a empathetic look and nodded. "I know."

Blaine bit his lip. "So what do I do?"

Burt leaned forward in his chair and gave Blaine a serious look. "Keep talking about how you feel. It's important that you don't keep this stuff inside, I'm learning to talk more too, and it does take time and patience. Secondly, don't think about what the agents are doing, that will only screw with your head and make it harder for you. We're here for you, and we all understand what you feel."

Blaine could taste his grief and anger; it was eating him up inside. He swallowed down his tears and asked, "Why did you invite me for lunch?"

Burt shared a knowing look with Carole who replied, "We wanted to know where you are with all of this and help you in anyway we can."

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Get up!"

Kurt jumped at the gruff voice. He had fallen asleep. What? How had he fallen asleep? This whole kidnapping thing must be getting to him. He slid off the bed, wincing as he did, and followed the sound of the voice out into the hallway.

"Let's go, it's time for lunch."

Kurt stopped dead in his tracks. The man had on the biggest smile on his face as he waited for Kurt at the bottom of the stairs. What was going on? Kurt half expected the man to pull a knife from his back pocket and charge at him. But he didn't. He just stood there waiting for Kurt to walk down the stairs.

"What do you mean?" Kurt could feel his heart pounding and he hoped his rib cage could hold it in place. He wanted Blaine. He wanted to be back at home where he could put the most amazing outfits together and read vogue. But he had to face facts, it didn't seem like he would be doing those things again.

Tentatively, he stepped down the stairs until he was standing beside the man. He motioned for him to go down a small hallway and Kurt tried not to shy away as the man put his hand on the small of his back.

Kurt was being led into a kitchen. To his surprise, it was warm and bright with butter-cup walls and a deep burgundy trim. He was scared by how normal this house was turning out to be.

"Come, let's get some food in you." Kurt frowned but his heart began to pound again as he saw food on the small table. The man wasn't going to poison him was he? Oh, God! He was going to be poisoned to death!

He was half-pulled half-pushed to the empty seat in front of his lunch. It didn't smell like poison and for some reason, that scared him even more. The man handed him a fork and still smiling, pulled up a seat next to him.

"I don't-I'm not hungry."

"Nonsense, you need to eat." The man continued to smile, as if Kurt was a small child that needed careful guiding, and he pushed the plate towards him.

Kurt swallowed down the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him and when he went to take the fork from the man, he touched his skin and cried out.

"I can't do this," he sobbed. "Please, don't make me! I won't tell, I promise!" He was sobbing so loudly and he wished that the man would stop with this slow torture. Just stop and kill him already. He didn't want to do this anymore.

Blaine! Please help me!

I'm here.

The man broke through his fantasies and whispered in his ear, "You will eat your lunch. Now." Kurt's sobs ended just as quickly as they began because there was something in the man's voice that frightened him. His voice was threateningly-patient and he picked up the fork with shaking fingers and struggled to pick up his food. The fork dropped, clattered to the floor and Kurt froze. The man sighed and picked up the fork, brought it to the sink and dropped it in with a clang.

He walked back slowly and sat down without speaking. Was he going to hit him again? "That was your only fork." He said with an edge of disappointment in his voice. "Now, you have to eat with your hands."

Kurt looked at him pleadingly but the man nodded and gave him a look that said it could be much worse.

Kurt sobbed again as he picked up a strand of pasta and brought it to his mouth. He could taste his own salty tears. The man nodded, "Good boy!" and clapped. Kurt cried again as he continued to eat.

"Do you want some cheese?"

Kurt shook his head and tried to see through his tears. This was humiliating. The man smiled. "I think you want some cheese."

Kurt shook his head again. "No, please, no cheese."

The man laughed. The sound reverberated across the room and Kurt flinched. "What? Are you on a diet? You'll have some cheese." He stood up and walked to the fridge, humming to himself as he pushed aside various condiments in search of the cheese.

Kurt struggled to breathe and swallowed another mouthful of pasta. He wanted to jump up and leave. The door was right there! Why was this happening?

"Well, it looks like there will be no cheese. I swore I put it on the door." He sat back down beside Kurt and smiled. Kurt was so humiliated. His fingers were covered in pasta, sauce, and tears. He wanted to throw up. It was all he could do to keep eating.

When he finished his plate the man stood up and clapped his hands. Maybe he would kill him now? Kurt hoped it would be quick. He felt disgusting. He closed his eyes and cried some more. How could he have that many tears? How could he still cry?

"Are you full now?"

Kurt didn't speak. He hung his head as sobs wracked his bruised body.

"Well, since you aren't speaking to me, I'll assume you are. We have work to do."

Why were his eyes shining like that? He doesn't really have a knife does he? Blaine.

"I'm going to make you into a man."