Author's Note:

Warning: Allusions to violence in this chapter. Please try not to hate me...

I don't own Glee.

Chapter 9

"Kurt 3 Lima? On your feet, let's go."

Kurt squinted up at the sudden rush of bright light that streamed in through the open door. The tiny cell only had a single, twelve inch square window of thick, bulletproof glass near the top of the outward—facing wall. It was still in the early morning hours, so the room had been very dark before the guard came to release him. Well, release wasn't the right word; Kurt knew there was no hope of that happening.

Kurt slowly climbed his way up from the hard ground. The guards had provided him with a thin mattress, blanket and pillow, but he might as well have had none of it. All three items were too thin and flimsy to really do their jobs.

He'd been held in the cell for nearly a week. Two meals a day, a bucket changed out three times a day for his waste and no hope of escape. Walking down the hallway for the first time since they'd come to arrest him in his room, his legs felt like jelly and it was the only reason he was glad to have a guard at each elbow. He wasn't quite sure he'd make it on his own.

Exiting the building, the guards shoved Kurt roughly into the back of a police cargo van. He thought about clamoring on to one of the benches nailed into the sides, but why bother? The floor was just as comfortable (or uncomfortable) and it saved him the hassle of been thrown repeatedly to the ground when the guard in the driver's seat slammed on the brakes or took a sharp turn, laughing as he did. That had been his experience on the ride over, so he didn't expect any different as they headed to the commons.

The commons. Kurt's final destination. He knew what the various punishments were for gay affairs. Anywhere from public humiliation, Scarlet Letter style, all the way to death. Kurt wasn't sure which end of the spectrum he'd find himself, but the odds were stacked against him.

A week earlier, he'd been laying in his bed asleep in the middle of the night when he was awoken by footsteps barging down the Infertile barrack's hallway. They'd grabbed him roughly out of bed and when Kurt screamed, one of them punched him hard in the mouth. He was startled into silence.

"Kurt 3 Lima," the one who'd assault spoke as they dragged him out, the other Infertiles gathering in their respective doorways to watch. "You are under arrest for the sexual assault of Blaine 2 Westerville, a fertile male, contrary to the laws and the good order of the New Reality."

"But—"

"You are not permitted to speak. If you continue to violate procedure, charges will be added."

Kurt obeyed. He didn't speak again, save for two occasions in the cell when he was spoken to by a guard and a direct answer was required. Now, as he headed to the commons, he wondered if he'd ever get the opportunity to speak again.

As they approached, Kurt could hear the tell-tale sirens, beckoning the citizens to gather in the commons. If there had been windows in the back of the van, Kurt would have seen them funneling obediently into the large area, Fertiles on one side, Infertiles on the other. Santana would be there, forced to stand with Blaine and the thought of that brought tears to Kurt's eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time that week.

All of the sudden, the van slammed to a halt, and since Kurt's hands and feet were shackled together, he had no choice but to topple over from his sitting position and roll until he slammed hard against the metal wall dividing the front from the back. He could hear the guards snickering and felt his own face heat up with embarrassment.

The front doors opened and slammed shut and within a few seconds, the back doors were thrown open wide.

"Move it, Lima," one guard barked, and as it was evident that they weren't going to assist him out of the van, Kurt began scooting his way to the edge. When he finally reached and swung his legs over the side to try to stand up, the other guard grabbed him by the arm and yanked him up, not noticing or caring that Kurt hadn't gained his footing yet. He tripped and slammed to the ground hard, face first, unable to put his bound hands out to break the fall. It took everything within him not to cry out in pain.

"Damn it, Lima, on your feet!" the first guard yelled again, and the two guards hoisted him up. This time Kurt made sure his feet were on solid ground. He could feel bits of gravel in his cheek, but he couldn't reach his face to brush them off and he knew better than to ask one of the guards to do it.

Looking up for the first time, Kurt saw that just about everyone was already gathered. The van had been parked right at the southwest edge of the commons and Kurt was being marched straight to the center where the Officials council sat at the table that was set up there. The guards brought him to the front of the table and dropped their grips, although they remained standing so close to Kurt that their arms brushed up against him.

"Please state your name," the head Official spoke into the microphone in front of him. It was then that Kurt noticed the standing microphone directly in front of himself.

"Kurt 3 Lima, sir."

"Kurt 3 Lima," the Official continued. "You've been charged with sexual assault for pursuing a homosexual, romantic relationship with a fertile male without his consent. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Kurt answered, wishing he could qualify his answer with an explanation of what really happened, but he'd already been warned that he was only allowed yes or no as answers.

"And do you understand that a homosexual relationship, with consent or without is strictly forbidden in our community?"

"Yes."

"And do you further understand that the maximum punishment for such offense is death by firing squad?"

"Y-yes, sir," Kurt answered, his voice wavering for the first time.

"The council has discussed your case at length, and considering the egregious nature of your offense in addition to the fact that your victim is a Fertile while you yourself are an Infertile, the punishment for your destructive and predatory actions has been determined."

Kurt tried to read the Official's facial expression, but it remained stony as he paused before speaking again. Kurt drew in a deep breath and waited.

"Kurt 3 Lima, you are hereby sentenced to death by firing squad, to be carried out immediately. Guards, please obscure his face."

Kurt didn't have time to react before the black sack was thrown over his head and the guards began dragging him backward.

"No," Kurt mumbled quietly, finally finding his voice and gradually increasing his volume as his panic level rose. "No. No! NO!"

This time the guards didn't try to stop him. They let him scream as they tied him to the chair. Someone pinned something on his chest and then they were gone. Kurt was all alone as he continued to scream, unable to hear the murmur of voices in the crowd.

"Guards, stand your mark!"

"No, please—"

"Steady—"

"Please don't, please!"

"Aim—"

"God, please, no!"

"Fire!"

BANG

Kurt shot up from his bed, chest heaving and bathed in a cold sweat. He whipped his gaze around his room, right hand immediately searching his chest for the wound he was sure would be there. When he finally realized it had all been a nightmare, he fell back exhausted in the bed.

It was the third night in a row that he'd dreamt the same thing, only each night, the punishment got progressively worse. The first night, it had been public humiliation. He'd been made to stand on the wooden stage in the center of the commons, holding a sign that listed his crime. The second night it had been lashes. He'd woken the next morning with his back still tingling.

And now…Kurt had to wonder where it would go from there. He'd spent the last three days holed up in his cubby hole. The clinic had advised him to take three days off from work to allow the knot on his head to heal. Now he was going to have to go back to work and he was terrified.

He hadn't heard from Santana or Blaine, but then again, he hadn't expected to. It wasn't like they could just mosey on over to the Infertile barracks and have a chat, it would be too suspicious.

Every sound that came from outside his room caused him to jump and whenever one of the other Infertiles returned to their room, he was convinced the footsteps were those of the guards, coming to cart him away. He couldn't eat, and with the exception of the two or three nightmare-filled hours he got each night, he couldn't sleep either.

Now he was dragging himself out of the bed, pulling on his work uniform and making his way out of the barracks. He thought about stopping by the kitchen first for his breakfast, but he knew he wouldn't eat it, so what was the point?

Trudging down to the first stop on his route, the community bulletin board, he scanned the board for work requests. Housing Unit 43 had a leak in their ceiling. Unit 28 had branches in the yard that needed to be removed.

And then there was the note from Unit 17, Blaine and Santana's house. Kurt drew in his breath as he plucked the card from the board.

"Ants in the kitchen, underneath the sink."

It was Santana's handwriting, and Kurt nearly tore it up. What was she thinking? Kurt thought angrily. Is she trying to get me killed? Kurt knew he'd have to respond to the request, and even if he didn't, his rounds took him right past their house every morning. Collecting all the cards, Kurt shoved them into his back pocket and made his way warily in the direction of Santana and Blaine's house.

Blaine had been sitting on the porch for nearly every hour of daylight those three days, waiting for Kurt to pass. Santana often sat with him, both of them worried at Kurt's absence.

"He's probably taking a few days to rest after hitting his head," Santana reasoned. It made the most sense, but it didn't do much to qualm their fears.

Now Blaine found himself sitting alone, Santana still in the house preparing breakfast. He stared out into the distance at the houses across the courtyard from his own. There weren't many people out walking about at this time in the morning, but it was the time of day that Kurt was most likely to pass.

Blaine almost missed the movement coming out of the corner of his vision but soon enough Kurt was almost directly in front of him. Blaine shot up from the step nervously.

"Kurt!" Blaine called out, causing Kurt to stop like a deer in headlights. He eyed Blaine nervously, unable to take another step forward.

"Kurt, please," Blaine begged, lowering his voice to keep from startling the boy any further. "I just want to talk, please, I'm not going to do anything."

"I came about the ants," Kurt answered almost robotically, still frozen to the spot.

"The ants?" Blaine asked confused. "Oh, right, the work order. That was just…we just wanted to talk to you, Santana and I."

Kurt finally found his ability to move again and made his way cautiously to the porch.

"Please, sit," Blaine motioned and was glad when Kurt obliged. He sat down across from him, making sure to keep a healthy distance from Kurt, who still looked completely terrified.

"Kurt, just listen to me, please," Blaine began, earning a small slow nod from Kurt. "First, before I say anything else, I would never, never report you to the Officials, especially for something I did without your consent."

The way Kurt's shoulders sagged slightly, as if dropping a heavy weight was encouraging to Blaine and he continued.

"Second, I am so, so sorry for what I did," Blaine said, finding these words among the most difficult he'd ever spoken. "It was completely out of line and I shouldn't have done that. I'm sure you've been nervous about this whole thing—"

"That's a bit of an understatement," Kurt interrupted, taking Blaine aback. For the first time, the fear seemed to leave Kurt's face and he was left looking completely exhausted. All Blaine wanted to do was hold and comfort the boy, but he internally cursed himself for even considering that.

"I know, I know," Blaine answered quickly. "And that's completely my fault. I had no right to do that, and—"

"Why did you do it?"

"Excuse me?" Blaine heard him loud and clear, but he wasn't quite expecting the question.

"Why did you kiss me?"

Blaine paused for a minute while he tried to figure out the best way to answer that question. He could come up with some stupid excuse, but Kurt deserved the truth after everything Blaine put him through.

"Because I wanted to," Blaine answered simply. "Because from the moment I first saw you last week, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. I tried to stop, I really did, but I…there's something about you that's scary—"

"Thanks," Kurt laughed sarcastically, cutting him off. He started to stand up.

"No!" Blaine nearly shouted, startling Kurt and causing him to sit back down again. "No, I didn't mean it that way. You're beautiful, I just meant that it was so scary to think about you in…in the way I was thinking about you, because I've never experienced that with another person, let alone another guy."

"You think that about me?" Kurt asked softly, his eyes betraying a vulnerable half-trust.

"Think what?"

"That I'm beautiful."

Blaine hadn't realized that he'd actually said that part out loud and now he could feel his cheeks grow red and hot.

"Yes," Blaine admitted. "I think you're perfect. And I'm scared as hell."

"This is…" Kurt trailed off, unable to form the right words. "This is crazy, you don't….you don't even know me. Plus you're married—"

"Not by choice."

"Right, but you're still married," Kurt continued. "To my best friend no less—"

"Who wants nothing to do with me."

"It, it doesn't matter," Kurt said, shaking his head and standing up again. "This is crazy, I have to go."

"Kurt, please," Blaine begged again, standing up. "Just be honest with me about one thing."

Blaine was hoping for a verbal acknowledgement, but accepted the way that Kurt cocked his head slightly to the side as confirmation.

"That kiss," Blaine started nervously. "You kissed me back. Are you…do you have feelings for me too?"

A million emotions seemed to flash in Kurt's wide, blue eyes in that instant.

"I," Kurt spoke after what seemed like an eternity. "I have to go. I'll, um…I'll check on the ants later this afternoon."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Blaine alone on the porch trying to figure out exactly what had just happened.

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