So here it is, chapter six! And finally we're really getting into all the complicated goodiness! I hope you enjoy it, please don't hesitate to read and review, and I shall now leave you alone before I start rambling more than I already am! Enjoy!


Chapter Six

'Love, whether newly-born or aroused from a death-like slumber, must always create a sunshine, filling the hearts so full of radiance, that it overflows upon the outward world.'
-Nathaniel Hawthorne, 'The Scarlett Letter'

The cafeteria was crowded, faces and people moving quickly to find a space to sit. Blaine followed meekly behind Kurt, holding his tray at waist height. 'Where are we sitting?' he whispered, leaning forward so his lips were near the other boy's ear.

'The others are over there. Good, they saved a spot for you.'

They ducked and weaved between tables, dodging around a group of boys who really should be forced to wear deodorant, and slipped into chairs at the table Quinn had snagged for them. Both she and Rachel were already seated, and glancing around, Kurt caught sight of Santana, roughly pushing a small freshman out of the way to reach them.

'Santana,' he warned, but she only shrugged nonchalantly, slamming her tray down on the table.

'So this is Blaine,' she said, raising an eyebrow. 'Wanky.'

Blaine shot her a quizzical look, but Kurt was blanching and he reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. The older boy pushed it off.

'Not here, Blaine,' he hissed. 'You too, Santana.'

'What?' was her reply. Blaine only stared dumbstruck. Kurt was never like this, never harsh or blunt when he was with him. It was a new side of him he'd never seen before.

'What are you staring at, Blaine?' Kurt asked, and he shook his head gently, dispelling the thought. It was only because he was at school, because he couldn't be himself. Right?

A hand snaked under the table coming to rest against his leg and he looked up to see Kurt smiling warmly at him. The expression was much more like what he was used to. I love you, he mouthed, and Kurt returned the words gently.

I love you, too.

It was mesmerizing.

'I thought you said 3rd Level would be horrible, Kurt,' Blaine said, moving his gaze around the cafeteria to dispel the image of the movement of Kurt's lips. No use dwelling on things that shouldn't be a thought in his mind anyway and especially not here, at school. A 3rd Level school, no less.

'I said you would have no freedom. Not that it would be horrible.'

'You said I shouldn't come,' Blaine countered. 'But it's nice, having lunch with you… guys.'

Kurt raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smile curving the corner of his mouth, but he only pierced a piece of lettuce with his fork and attempted to swallow it down.

'Kurt.' The voice was Rachel's and she was leaning across the table, motioning for him to meet her halfway. 'I thought we should meet at my place tonight. Blaine's welcome of course, but I thought we should start planning this little revolution of ours.'

Each member of the circle raised an eyebrow at her and she leaned back into her seat, crossing her arms indignantly across her chest. 'Sorry for suggesting we actually do something rather than talk about it all the time.'

'Talking is necessary, Rachel,' Quinn argued. 'It allows us to determine what each of us are comfortable doing and what we want to achieve. If you're running a marathon, you don't just run straight in, you train first.'

Blaine nodded. It was a viable opinion, and definitely something that made sense.

But again, Rachel countered it, her voice annoyed and angry, to the point that it annoyed and angered everyone at that table. 'We're not running a marathon, Quinn. We're planning a revolution.'

'Keep your voice down!' It was Kurt that hissed that, and his hand reached across the table to grab Rachel's arm, shaking her slightly. 'There's no meeting tonight, alright? Another time.' He turned to Blaine pointedly, shifting in his sheet until they were facing each other directly. 'Blaine, would you care to talk about your experience at a 2nd Level? If I hear another word out of Rachel's mouth, I think I might snap and throw something.'

'Certainly,' Blaine said, and he smiled.


'I just got a whole heap more keywords.' Room 25 was suddenly filled with a crowd of people. The cameras in the cafeteria at William McKinley 3rd Level Education Institute were all trained on one table, surrounded by five people.

'What do I do?' the Officer asked.

Another Officer from down the hall, Room 23, Pennsylvania, pressed his lips together, glancing at the screen and running a thumb along the length of his upper lip. 'I've never seen anything like it,' he breathed in almost a whisper. 'I mean, anyone else and I'd be raising the alarm straight away. But they're kids.'

'They all raised flags, though.'

'Even the fifth kid?'

The Officer from Room 25 nodded. 'He just got downgraded yesterday. And less than three months ago he'd been getting straight As.' He tapped a few buttons on his keyboard absently, an anxious tic that he had been performing a lot over the last five hours. Even when he'd gone home, over the night shift, he was still jumpy. Nothing like this every happened in Ohio. He was one of the youngest Officers there, and he'd been given this room because nothing ever happened. That was the point.

'Do I call it in?'

'You've rung them up before. Nothing more has technically happened,' 23 commented.

'Yes, but they've grown in numbers.'

'It doesn't mean a thing.'

The Officer from Room 25 spun in his chair, eyebrows high against his forehead and mouth hanging open. 'Can't you see that sentence there. That one I've highlighted? We're planning a revolution.'

23 bit his lip. 'I see that it is a bit worrying, but it's not something that's going to affect the Heads. It might be a worry for a bit, but the Upper Officer told you yesterday. They're tight strung with this thing in Japan. Five kids in Ohio aren't going to do much.'

'I'm going to call it in.'

'It's on your head, Officer. Personally, I think they're not going to like it.' He stepped backwards, heading towards the door. He opened it one handed and slipped out, shooting a final sarcastic smile and wave in 25's direction before closing the door behind him, calling out, 'Your call.'


'Santana!' The voice came from the other side of the bus shelter and the latino paused, ID in hand and poised above the swiper to pay for the bus.

She turned her head only slightly until she could catch, out of the corner of her eye, a long blonde ponytail and she scowled.

'Santana!'

She ran her ID card through the scanner, taking the first step onto the bus. It was that simple, a single step, but she hesitated, rocking back on a foot and as she regained her balance, a hand caught around her upper arm.

'Sanny!'

She sighed, but stepped back and Brittany released her, her mouth open to speak but no words coming out. Her lips only moved in silent speech as Santana pressed a hand into her hip, rocking it to the side.

'Was there something you wanted to say, Brittany?'

The blonde stared, observing every line of Santana's face before breathing out, 'Are- are you angry at me?'

'Of course not.' The girl's voice was laced with sarcasm, oozing and dripping off every word. 'You're my best friend, and I'd never be mad at you for longer than an hour.'

The smile that broke across Brittany's face was filled with relief. 'Oh, thank God, because I thought-'

'Freaking hell, Britt. It's sarcasm! Learn to recognize it.' She spun, moving to step back onto the bus, but her spot in line had been taken and the door had already closed. As she reached out her hand to bang on it, motioning for the driver to open up, the wheels started moving, the engine accelerated and the bus pulled away. 'Shit!'

Santana stomped her foot, and snarled, continuing her movement away from Brittany and resettling her bag on her shoulder. Her polo shirt was crumpling together at the top of the sleeves and the hem was riding up around her hips, revealing a thin sliver of tanned skin, but she was too frustrated to even consider fixing it or pulling it down. Instead she just walked, quickly and in the most pointedly opposite direction from Brittany.

'Sanny! Wait! Come back!' There were heavy footfalls behind her and then Brittany was stuttering to a slower pace at her side, drawing her hands up to hook into the straps of her backpack as she walked. 'Why are you sarcastic-mad?'

Santana frowned, mulling over her words for a moment. She almost considered not replying, but then considering that option involved a long walk home with Brittany by her side, refusing to stop talking until she got an answer, an answer was easier to give.

'You don't care about me.'

'I care about you!' And yes, she had expected that answer, but it still brought her to her feet, turning ninety degrees to face the person whom she'd once considered her best friend.

'No, you don't. Not really. Not like I care about you.'

The blonde girl's eyebrows furrowed, her lips pursing as she tried to think it over. Unlike Santana, she was much less successful. 'How do you care about me?'

'God.' Santana let out a breathy sigh, letting it escape onto the wind and disappear before it had barely reached Brittany's ears. 'I care about you like you're the only thing in my world. You mean more to me than my mom, or my wank job dad. I would break rules for you, Brittany. I'd do anything for you.' She paused, turning again to walk and hooking her own thumbs through the straps of her bag so their actions were mirrored. 'And you may care about me, but it's not the same. Not when I'd do anything for you, and the most you would do is hold my hand during lunch time or maybe kiss me when we're alone.' Her voice was bordering on way too loud for a public place, but since the bus had left, the street had been pretty much deserted.

'I'd do anything for you, Santana!'

The girl smirked. 'Would you go against the Regime? For me?'

That put her into silence. She stared straight ahead, not speaking until Santana prompted her. 'Well?'

'You know that's impossible, San. You can't just go against something that's been there our whole lives!'

'Kurt and I are. And that Quinn girl, who was sick last year. And that midget with the loud voice and too many opinions? Raquel? Is that her name?'

'Rachel,' Brittany corrected and glanced at Santana, but the girl was smiling, a sad sort of smile.

'We're going to do this, Brittany. And I don't know what it will mean, but I can't be around you if you won't help me.'

The blonde pouted, making her bottom lip jut out in a way that she knew usually left Santana agreeing to anything. This time, however, she only shook her head, almost imperceptibly.

'No, I'm serious. If we succeed, and the world is changed for the better - and I'm not saying it will, I definitely have no high hopes with that Rachel girl in our crew - then I want you to know that I love you. And I want you.' She paused, leaning forward to wrap her arms around Brittany's shoulders. It was a hug of goodbye. A hug of promise. A hug of never wanting to let go. 'But not like this. When it's better, you will be mine,' she whispered.

And then she pulled away, finally fixing her shirt and stepping quickly down the sidewalk towards her neighbourhood.

Brittany didn't follow.


In the tall metallic building, three floors above Room 25, two men and a woman were crowded round a single computer screen, observing its contents.

'It's curious,' the woman said, running her eyes again down the words. 'I was the one that took his call yesterday and I wasn't that concerned, but with more key words like that - and these are much more specific than the ones we picked up the other day - we could have a real issue on our hands.'

One of the men glanced at her. 'It can't be that bad, can it?' He was a portly man, his pants slightly too tight for him, cutting into his round belly. Beneath his arms were large sweat patches and there was a smear of tomato ketchup caught in his mustache.

'It may not be a big issue at the moment,' the other man commented. In contrast to his workmate, he was tall and thin, clean shaven and with hair cropped tightly around his ears. 'But we've seen before the work a few teenagers can do, especially when they have a reason to do it, and these kids all raise flags.'

'Personally,' the portly man said, 'I feel that five kids and a few key words aren't enough to do anything. They're in Ohio, for God's sake. What can anyone do in Ohio?'

'They can convince others to join them.'

'Join them in what? A picket parade?'

The woman frowned. 'You never know. You don't know their true reasons. All you know is what's on their flags, and even that isn't very comprehensive when it comes to explaining the motivations of people. Haven't you read the history books? It's always the youth, the people with new views that go against the norm.'

The portly man didn't respond, not even nodding or shaking his head. He only leaned further back in his chair, a scowl ever present on his face.

'So what do you suggest we do?' the thin man asked the woman. 'If we ask for a public disobedience, they might just raise the alarms and have all the kids in that school jumping to join them.'

'I agree. We need something small, quiet, that can be put into place using only a few Officers. I wouldn't trust the school Leaders with this kind of thing.' She paused running her teeth along the swell of her bottom lip. Then she reached for the keyboard, typing in a quick command. 'I'm going to send in a group of five Officers, one for each of the individuals.' She pressed a few more buttons, then turned to her comrades. 'They'll go in tomorrow, during school hours, so we'll be sure to get each of them. But I've asked for class hours, so no one should spot the event.'

'Where are you having them sent?'

The woman pursed her lips. 'What choice do I have? The Heads.'


'We're doing this,' Blaine whispered, leaning against the headboard of Kurt's bed and pressing his skull firmly into cool wood. 'Heck, we're doing this.'

'Mhm.' Kurt's own head was slightly higher, the wood instead biting into his neck, and he turned slightly to face his boyfriend, holding out a hand in front of them. Blaine grasped it and he smiled. 'I love you.'

'I love you, too.' They were words familiar to the two of them, but every time they were spoken, something more seemed to pass through the air, an assurance that this was another day, and they were still together, and they would be for a long time coming if they both had their way. There would be nothing that could make their relationship better, not even an overturn of the stupid Regime.

The silence in the room was warm and comforting, and the small contact between their shoulders that heated beneath their skin and boiled in their blood made Kurt shiver slightly.

'Are you scared?' It was Blaine that said it, and in a careful whisper, turning his head to gauge Kurt's reaction.

The older boy pursed his lips, leaning closer and wrapping his arm around Blaine's waist. 'Sometimes. Are you?'

A small laugh sputtered from his throat. 'God, yeah. All the time. Not about what it will be like if we succeed, but about what it will be like for us if we don't. All of us, you, me, Rachel, Quinn and Santana. We'll be outcasts. If we do anything major, we could be fugitives. Perpetually on the run.' He took a deep breath, and with his head on his chest, Kurt could hear the hint of a gasp in it. 'And what if they send people after us, and somebody gets hurt. What if you get hurt, Kurt?'

It was a hurried whisper, a fear that Blaine had never put into words before. But Kurt had felt it brewing beneath the surface since he'd first mentioned the idea of a better world, one where you could be who you wanted to be without the pressures and rules of the Regime. And he could feel it in his own stomach too, the pain lingering there with a promise of coming in full force if Blaine ever got hurt.

And he knew there was no certainty, no assurance that none of them wouldn't get hurt, that both he and Blaine would survive this intact.

But he still spoke the words, with as much strength in them as he could. 'We won't get hurt.'

Blaine frowned as if making to argue, but he only leaned closer into Kurt. 'I trust you.'

Don't.

Kurt slid his hand up Blaine's wrist, toying with the material of his shirt. 'You are so beautiful,' he whispered.

'I'm not that nice. Not in comparison to you.' It was something Blaine said often, no matter how many times Kurt tried to assure him.

'You are the best thing that's ever happened to me. You are amazing, and beautiful, and perfect. Never go anywhere.'

Blaine smiled. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

'Well, good.'

And it was almost as simple as that, to fall back into their normal banter. Their conversation had barely lasted a few minutes, but it still haunted in the backs of both their minds, just like it had for quite some time before. But nothing more was said. They only held each other, laying sweet and gentle kisses against each others skin as the clock ticked over, reaching late into the night.

Nobody mentioned Blaine going home, not even Kurt's dad, who checked in on them on his way to bed.

The pair were curled against the sheets, the blanket pushed down to the end of the bed. Their arms were wrapped each other, and Kurt's father only grinned, stepping into the room to gently cover his son and the boy he couldn't consider anything less.

Neither of them awoke.


A hand caught Quinn's as she climbed the steps to the main building of the school. It slipped out just as quickly, with only the slightest of pressures, and she turned around in line, trying to catch a glimpse of who it had been, but the other line was moving slower than hers. She only spotted Kurt and Rachel, standing one behind the other, and there was no way for her to know which of them it had been who had touched her.

She stepped up to her locker, pushing her unnecessary books into it and pulling out her Geometry textbook. It slid into her bag with only a slight shift of the canvas material, lodging itself between her Rule book and her binder.

'Miss.'

The voice was unfamiliar to her, older, and she didn't turn around. The voice wouldn't be after her.

'Quinn? Quinn52319946?'

That made her spin around and she almost ran into the stranger. He had lodged himself in between her and the girl in line beside her and he was dressed all in thick, matte black.

'Yes?' she murmured softly, hardly loud enough for him to hear her. All she could think of was Beth. They must have found out about Beth.

'You'll need to come with me, Miss,' he said, gripping her arm and pulling her not unkindly out of the line.

Beth.

Beth.

Her eyes darted frantically around the corridor, falling on Santana and Blaine, up one end, being drawn out of their own spots in line. Their own eyes were frantic, and Blaine was pushing against the bulky man who held him place.

'Help!'

Turning, she found Kurt and Rachel. They were in no better state than her and it had been Rachel who had called out.

Oh, god. They were being taken. They'd talked about starting a riot and now they were being taken for disobedience, never to be seen by their families again.

'Help!' she screamed, echoing Rachel's cries. 'Help!'


Two yards up and to the right, in a different line, a boy was watching Quinn with a mix of curiosity and concern.

His name was Noah. Serial number 52919941. And he was pretty sure he knew why the blonde had been off school for six months. And why she was being taken now. Well, at least he had a good guess.

What else would have a girl off school three months after losing her virginity and staying away for another good six?

Yeah, he was pretty sure he'd knocked quiet, pretty Quinn up.

And that was why, for some crazed reason, as she called out for help and no one came to her aide, he felt a compelling urge to. It wasn't like she was the only girl he'd ever screwed, but she was nice, and perhaps he had been a bit hasty in dropping her.

Never mind the reason, he found himself stepping out of line, drawing his arm back and throwing it forward again with such force that it collided with the cartilage of the man in black's nose, splintering it with a loud thwack and a large spray of blood.

The man stumbled backwards, catching himself on the shoulder of a girl who squealed loudly, backing away.

'Are you okay?' Noah asked Quinn, reaching for her hand to pull her close to him. She nodded breathlessly, but he was already looking up the corridor to where Blaine had managed to escape his own captor during the confusion of Noah's blow.

'We're going to have to run,' he whispered into Quinn's ear. The men didn't look as if they were carrying guns, but they definitely didn't look as if they were messing around. They were already encircling Blaine, Rachel and Kurt, the former having rushed to their aide.

He squeezed Quinn's hand tightly and pointed in the direction of the nearest door before picking up his feet and running as fast as he could, dragging the girl behind him.


At the other end of the corridor, Santana was spinning out, kicking her foot with pinpoint precision into the groin area of her own captor. He fell to the ground, curling into a ball and she jumped over him, rushing towards her friends.

Blaine was grappling with one man, kicking him in the ankles and shins and twisting his arm tight up behind his back. Santana grinned and aimed another kick in the area around his groin.

Adrenalin was rushing through her veins, pulsing and glowing red hot in her muscles. Three men were injured and the other two must have been the youngest and most inexperienced, as even Rachel dodged them easily.

The door was in reach, and with that freedom, and Santana ran, only looking over her shoulder for a brief moment to ensure the others were with her.

Blaine and Kurt's hands were tightly entwined and Santana's smile grew.

Freedom.