Author's Note: Just want to put out a warning that there's some violence in this chapter. It's not explained in terribly graphic detail, but it's emotionally difficult to read. For me, anyway.

And yes, I did pull a Pocahontas…

Love, love, and more love.

Roses Dipped In Gold

Chapter Twenty-One

After yanking Blaine away from the cameras at the press conference, his father had taken him to a locked room and laid into him.

"Who the hell do you think you are, Blaine? Defying me like that...what gives you that right? This is a horrible mess, you idiot boy. You have no idea what you've done. We just succeeded in banning the Resistance, but you think I don't know they're just waiting for something like this to happen? This is only going to add fuel to their fire. You are going to sort this out."

"There isn't anything to sort out. Just punish me and get it over with. It's just a fine. I can pay." On one hand, Blaine realized how big of a deal this was. The Chancellor's son, a Council member and future leader of the nation, had admitted to willingly breaking one of the most important laws in existence. On the other hand, Blaine thought his father was seriously overreacting.

"True. You can, but maybe the other boy can't," the Chancellor said slowly and deliberately.

"What do you mean by that?" Blaine narrowed his eyes.

"I mean that one way or another, you will pay for your actions. Just...go home, Blaine. I need time to figure out what we are going to do."

Blaine only stared back at him. Was his father truly threatening Kurt? He wouldn't dare. Blaine chose his next words carefully.

"Okay. I'll go home. I'll put out the fires I started, and I won't cause any more trouble. But only on one condition."

The Chancellor looked up warily. He did not understand why Blaine had to be so difficult. "What is your condition?"

Blaine knew Kurt had enough money to pay the fine for breaking the communication law; he had seen to it. There was no way he was going to allow anything else to happen to him, though.

"You can make Kurt pay the fine. But after that, you leave him alone." He had intended for the statement to sound fierce and dangerous, but it came out pleading.

His father sighed. "Fine. He will not pay more than the fine. For this crime. Now leave. This will be the last time you pull a stunt like this."

"Understood." Blaine walked out the door, beyond relieved that Kurt would be safe.

If Kurt was not under arrest, then why did this room feel like a prison? True, he was not shackled, and had free roam of the gray room that was furnished with a small table and two chairs in one corner and a firm-looking couch in another, but Kurt had the feeling that any attempt at leaving would be met with resistance. He was also pretty certain that non-prisoners did not get strip searched upon arrival.

Nobody had come into the room in hours, and Kurt had already looked through the three issues of People that sat on the table in front of him multiple times. He simultaneously hated and was thankful for the clock on the wall. It was a comfort to be able to keep track of the passing time somehow in this windowless room, but watching mundane second after mundane second tick by with no end in sight was not the most preferable way to spend time.

In the span of three hours, Kurt had experienced the gamut of emotions. Fear, hopelessness, anxiety, irritation, and now, restlessness and boredom. At least the horrible sense of dread had left him. For now. He had no idea what was going to happen, but Kurt put his faith in his ability to withstand anything that was thrown at him. He focused on meditating.

Breathe in the positive.

Breathe out the negative.

Easier said than done when a he was about to be questioned about breaking the law...

Eventually, footsteps sounded outside the door, and an older man walked in the gray room. He looked at Kurt as if Kurt's presence alone had made his day. It was sort of creepy.

"Mr. Hummel. I've been dying to meet you."

Kurt shifted, sitting up taller. The hair stood up on the back of his neck as every alarm bell in his body sounded.

"Sorry, can't say that I've felt the same."

The man ignored him and sat down across the table. "You're already such an interesting creature. Blaine has just made you all the more fascinating. Tell me, Kurt, why would Blaine insist that you aren't a whore?"

"Because it's the truth, and Blaine apparently has some kind of misguided obsession with protecting my honor, even when it leads to his own prosecution."

"Ahh, it seems that you know more than I anticipated. This is going to be fun," the man leaned forward in his chair and Kurt balked at the feeling of his hot breath across his face. "But you know what? I knew that you weren't a prostitute. In fact, I know that where you come from, nobody is, even when every other Low Class village out there has to resort to that disgusting crime."

Kurt's eyes widened momentarily at the realization that this man may hold the key to unlocking his secret.

"Oh, yes, Kurt. I know more than you've anticipated as well."

"Where is Chancellor Anderson? I was told he would be here."

"The Chancellor is not precisely aware of your whereabouts yet. Maybe we can keep it that way if you cooperate."

Kurt stiffened in his hard plastic chair. This was worse than he thought. Who was this man? Why did he know things about his village? And why did it seem like he had some personal vendetta against him?

"Excuse me, but I didn't catch your name."

"How rude of me," the man stuck his hand out across the table. Kurt blanched away from it instinctively, and the man dropped his hand, his face growing red in anger. "My name is White."

Ring ring!

Between reporters and anonymous threats, Blaine's landline phone had been ringing nonstop since the press conference, and he had ignored every last call so far. He considered disconnecting the phone entirely, but part of him was hoping Kurt would miraculously find his number and a phone to use to call him. Not having Kurt by his side through this was terrible. He was fighting everything in his body that pulled him toward Kurt, because he knew it would not help either of them to be seen together right now.

His answering machine picked up, and Blaine started at the distinct, vaguely familiar voice that played through his living room.

"Hello? Blaine Anderson? This is a friend from school...I have something to ask you…"

Blaine pinpointed the voice. Leo. The kid from their class who always had the parties in his dorm. Kurt had always been friendly with him. They shared many of the same views, and Leo seemed like a nice guy. Maybe he was calling because he had heard from Kurt. It was a stretch, but stranger things had happened. Blaine picked up the phone, cutting off Leo's message.

"Leo? It's Blaine. Is this about Kurt?"

"What? No...Hi. Is this line secure?"

Blaine confirmed that it was, feeling slightly disappointed.

"I need something from you. I wasn't sure if you were still on our side or not, but then I saw you on TV last night and I knew I had to call you…"

"Of course I still support the Resistance, Leo. That's never going to change. What is it that you need?"

"Do you know about the protest on Saturday?"

"What protest?"

"Really? I was sure Kurt would have told you…"

Blaine thought back to the last real conversation he had had with Kurt that was not focused on their current predicament. "We've been a bit...preoccupied lately."

"Sorry about that. Thank you, by the way, for telling the truth, Blaine. You don't know how much it means to our cause."

"I wouldn't dream of doing it any other way. Tell me about this protest."

"On Saturday, there will be massive march on the Council Building. Massive. People are being bused in from everywhere. It's all been planned underground, of course, since it's technically illegal, plus, that gives us the element of surprise. We're not backing down this time. We won't stop until we make a change. Are you sure this line is secure?"

"A little late for that, you think? But that's great, Leo. What can I do to help?"

"Here's what we need…"

Kurt had been left alone in this awful gray room for twelve hours. He had not eaten or slept, and he had not seen or heard anybody else. He figured White was trying to freak him out, make him panic about what White might know, maybe even formulate a plan to give up information in exchange for his release. But Kurt had been preparing for this moment for years. He had always known his capture was a possibility, and he was not going to give in to their requests for information. Kurt lounged on the couch in the corner of the room, trying to think of happy things to keep his spirits up. He recalled memories of Blaine at Dalton, which were some of the best he had. He remembered their kisses, their late night skinny dips, their escapes to the jazz club, their affirmations of love for each other, waking up in Blaine's arms...he longed for Blaine like he had never longed for anything.

The door creaked open, and Kurt looked up lazily from his reclined position on the couch. A flash of annoyance crossed White's face upon seeing how relaxed Kurt was. His method had obviously not worked, and he was pissed about it.

White dragged a chair across the room and sat down a few feet from the couch.

"It's time to talk, Kurt. Cut the shit. There is some illicit activity going on in your town. You need to tell me about it."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb with me!" White shouted, his anger rising. "You have no idea what I'm capable of, young man."

"I'm not playing anything."

"Listen. You've been convicted of a crime. We have reason to suspect that you have committed another, though we aren't sure of the details yet. For a second offense, the consequences are much, much harsher. But all you have to do is tell me what's going on, and who else is involved, and you'll be let off the hook."

"I don't know anything," Kurt shrugged, flipping nonchalantly through one of the magazines. He could practically hear steam coming from White's ears.

"Let me help you out, then. Here is what I know. Nobody in your town engages in prostitution, yet nobody in your town is dying of starvation. Your market is the most popular I've ever seen. And the clothes you sell aren't from the approved stock patterns, nor are they from any designer I recognize."

Shit. White had done his research. Most Low Class seamsters chose to use stock patterns to make their clothes to avoid the designer fee. If they made clothes from a designer's patterns, they had to pay more than half of the profits to the designer. Kurt obviously did not have that issue, as he was the designer. Which was illegal since it was a Class-restricted activity.

"So you see," White continued. "I know that something fishy is happening, and I know that you are involved. I just need your help filling in the details."

Kurt sighed and put his magazine down, swinging his legs over the side of the couch to face White.

"You're wasting your time. I won't tell you anything. So please, kindly fuck off."

White bared his teeth. "Then I will have to get someone who can make you talk." He stood up, shoving his chair out of the way. "It might take me a while, though, so I hope you aren't hungry or anything." As White backed out of the room, Kurt caught a glimpse of his malicious smile.

It was torture waiting for the door to close before he let out a laugh.

How funny that White thought hunger would be an effective coercion tactic on a person who had been chronically hungry for fourteen years of his life.

Chancellor Anderson looked up at the man who was knocking on his office door.

"Come in, White."

White sat opposite the Chancellor, fidgeting his hands nervously.

"If you're here to ask about the investigation into the Hummel's village, I promise I will start soon. There has just been a lot going on lately…" The Chancellor motioned to the piles of paper in front of him on his desk.

"Don't worry about that, sir. I kind of...already started."

"Oh good heavens, White. What do you mean?" White was a good Council member. He upheld the laws in the most traditional sense, and would always support him in these matters. But he was rash, and was infamous for making poor decisions.

"I had Hummel brought in to the holding room yesterday and I started questioning him."

The Chancellor closed his eyes, breathing carefully. When he opened them again, he said, "Please tell me you're joking. I just promised Blaine that Kurt would be okay."

"With all due respect, sir, I think it's time you break that promise. He knows something. And it's big. But he won't budge. I need something more."

"Well if he's not cooperating with the investigation, then we have no choice. What is it you need from me?" Blaine was going to be so angry with him. Some things had to come before family, though, and the law was one of them.

"Come with me to see him. Then if he still won't give, we resort to other...methods."

"Agreed. We will go in the morning."

Blaine sat in a Council meeting, doing his best to ignore the glares White kept casting in his direction. He kept waiting for his father to decide his punishment, but it hadn't come yet. Blaine tried to focus on what the speaker was saying, but White kept leaning forward and whispering in his ear.

Kurt is going to get what's coming to him.

Your boyfriend looks adorable in handcuffs.

I know what Kurt's face looks like when he's begging for mercy.

He screams for you to help him.

Halfway through the meeting, Blaine couldn't take it anymore. He knew White was just trying to rile him up, since his father had assured him that Kurt was safe, but he had just had enough.

He stood up, White following suit.

"What's the matter, Blaine? Worried about your little Kurt? Hey, what does that tattoo on his shoulder mean? Is that what you shout when he makes you-"

Blaine shoved White backward into his chair, cutting him off.

"Do not ever talk about Kurt again," Blaine hissed before turning on his heel and storming out the door to hurry back home.

It had to be a coincidence. There's no way White could know about the tattoo. White was very convincing, though. Shit. Could he have been telling the truth about the other things too? Blaine broke into a run. He had to talk to Kurt now.

He wracked his brain as he clutched his cell phone tightly in his hand. He vaguely remembered his father telling him about the directory of mayors in their online database. Blaine pulled it up quickly, locating Naomi Tai's name. With shaking fingers, he dialed her number.

"Ms. Tai, this is Blaine Anderson. I need to speak with Kurt Hummel. It's urgent."

Naomi's response knocked the breath out of him.

"He's been gone for days?!" Blaine sat down on the edge of the fountain outside his house. "Who took him?"

A minute later, he hung up the phone, unwilling to believe what he had been told. Fear swept through him, White's words suddenly seeming like a more realistic possibility.

Where are you, Kurt? Please be all right.

"Is this some sort of good cop/bad cop thing? Because it won't work." Kurt was standing in the middle of the holding room with his arms crossed, looking between the Chancellor and White. The Chancellor had come in, apologizing to Kurt for keeping him for so long, and asking him kindly to please give them the information they were looking for. He had also brought Kurt a couple of breakfast pastries, which Kurt refused to touch, and coffee, which he almost could not resist. He was having an incredibly hard time keeping his eyes open, and he hoped they would leave the drink after they left.

"No, it isn't. Kurt, I have to let you know that failing to cooperate with a government official is a punishable offense," The Chancellor told him.

"Surprise, surprise. Fine. Punish me all you want, but you'll never get any information out of me."

The Chancellor threw up his hands in defeat, but White looked excited. He looked to the man standing next to him. "Hummel is charged with interclass communication, is somehow involved in this little operation, and was a known supporter of the Resistance while at Dalton. I propose a public lashing. As many as it takes until he speaks."

"That is primitive!" Kurt shouted. Then, as if daring the Chancellor, "You wouldn't…"

The Chancellor surveyed Kurt for a moment before speaking. Kurt tried not to rearrange his features to avoid letting on how appalled he was. "I think that would be appropriate for the offenses presented. Kurt, are you sure you have nothing to tell us?"

"I'm sure." Kurt held Mr. Anderson's eyes. "What would Blaine say? If he knew you were planning to torture me for information? If he knew you were abusing your power like this?"

"This is not an abuse of power, Mr. Hummel. This is standard procedure. It is perfectly within the law."

"That doesn't make it okay. Think about it. What about Blaine?" Kurt persisted.

"Blaine has made some poor decisions lately, and he needs to face the consequences of his actions."

"By taking it out on me?"

"This is not up for discussion, Mr. Hummel," The Chancellor scolded.

White approached, a gleam in his eyes and metal in his hands. "Now, Hummel. Are you going to come willingly, or do you need to be handcuffed?"

Kurt had put up one hell of a fight, but in the end, they handcuffed him anyway. Now, unbelievably, he was standing, tied and stripped of his shirt, against a whipping post. A small crowd had gathered in the square with the Chancellor at the center of the group as White happily stood out in front and read aloud Kurt's offenses.

"This is your last chance, Kurt," White said to him. "All you need to do is agree to tell me."

Kurt did not respond. He looked straight ahead with a blank expression, not focusing on anything in particular. White gave a nod to the executor, who raised his arm. Kurt held his breath and tensed, bracing for the blow.

The lash came down across Kurt's back.

Holy fucking shit.

It was the worst, most intense pain he had ever felt. He tried to internalize the pain, determined not to cry out or let any weakness show.

White smirked evilly. "Changing your mind yet? You know what you need to do…"

Kurt just stared at him defiantly. "Never."

The executor brought his hand down again. This time, it took everything Kurt had not to yelp in pain. The sting spread across his entire back now, with no sign of ever letting up.

"Still no?" White asked, a laugh in his voice.

Kurt swallowed hard. "I'd rather take everything you have to give than talk. Is this all you've got?"

White practically jumped with glee. "Oh, no...I have much worse. I thought you'd never ask." He snapped his fingers and two large men emerged from the Council Building with another man between them.

No. No, no no.

Kurt squeezed his eyelids together and clenched his teeth, hoping that when he opened his eyes, Blaine would not be standing there, forced to watch him be beaten.

"Bringing me to another public lashing, father? I thought you'd gotten over trying to make me more manly a long time a-" Blaine stopped where he stood, eyes finally making it to the whipping post and realizing it was Kurt tied up there. The two men on either side of him tightened their grips on his arms in preparation.

Kurt opened his eyes and looked into Blaine's, allowing a solitary tear to roll down his face. How fucked up was Chancellor Anderson that he would do such a thing to anyone, let alone his own child? Kurt tried to shake his head at Blaine, to tell him not to react, but it was too late.

Blaine lost it. He turned absolutely feral in that moment, clawing and screaming and kicking at the men holding him back, desperate to get to Kurt. His screams inhuman, the movements of his limbs uncontrollable. It was terrifying. Kurt never wanted to see Blaine like this again. Ever. He closed his eyes tightly and braced himself once more as the next lash came down on a new place on his back. Blaine's wails and thrashing increased in intensity upon seeing Kurt hit. It was a miracle that the two guards still had a hold on him.

A murmur ran through the crowd, people scared by Blaine's reaction, questioning whether the punishment should stop.

"Isn't this an appropriate punishment, Blaine? Your father told you you'd be sorry," White taunted.

Lash after lash rained down on Kurt, who fought to stay on his feet. Tears fell uninhibitedly down his cheeks, his eyes locked on Blaine.

Blaine had stopped fighting, realizing the futility of his actions. He was on his knees, watching Kurt and looking like he was in unimaginable agony. Through their eyes they communicated love and strength and apologies and consolations. Kurt focused all of his energy on Blaine, trying to feel the love and power radiating from him, giving him strength to withstand the punishment he was receiving.

Despite Kurt's strong front, he was growing weak. Whimpers were starting to escape his lips when he was hit, and the pain was so great he was on the verge of blacking out.

One more lash came down, and Kurt couldn't hold back anymore.

"AAARGHHH!" He screamed, sliding down the post to his knees.

A rustle in the crowd caused heads to turn.

At seeing Kurt break, Blaine had lost his mind. He kicked out, jumping to his feet and somehow, miraculously, breaking free of his guards.

Faster than he knew he could move, Blaine was at the front of the crowd, throwing himself across Kurt.

"STOP! STOP!" He cried. "Jesus Christ, stop!"

He positioned his body so that he was shielding Kurt from any further blows, but so that he was not touching any of the open wounds on Kurt's back. His beautiful, smooth, flawless skin was lacerated beyond belief. Blood ran from the gashes, staining the pale skin around them and saturating the waistband of his pants. Blaine whimpered at the sight, breathing deeply so he would not vomit.

Quietly, so nobody else could hear, he whispered in Kurt's ear, "Baby, please tell me you're okay. Please. Kurt." His broken sob cut raggedly through the air.

"Blaine," Kurt responded.

"Oh, thank god." Blaine gripped Kurt's arms and helped pull him up. He knew the last thing Kurt wanted was to be on his knees in front of his executor. He knew Kurt would never want to seem weak.

White stepped forward, addressing the executor. "No, no, don't stop. This just got so much more fun. Anderson is obstructing a government punishment. He should be punished as well." He squealed with delight. The executor complied and raised his arm once more.

"Stop," the Chancellor commanded before the executor could move. "Don't hurt Blaine."

Blaine felt Kurt heave beneath him in relief, a change from his quick, shallow breaths. He struggled to control his own breathing, and instantly transformed into the most powerful, intimidating version of himself that he had ever been. But not before placing a kiss on Kurt's sweaty temple.

Blaine turned toward a woman in the audience. "Get a doctor to my house right away." He then turned on his father, who actually cowered.

"Did you honestly just say that? You don't want to hurt me?! Don't you realize that what you've just done has hurt me beyond repair? You forced me to sit here and watch my boyfriend be brutally whipped for no reason other than to teach us both a lesson. This is not a game to see what it takes to make me see the wrong in my actions, father...this is my life, and Kurt's life. He could have died. You may not have been the one wielding the lash, but you are equally responsible for what happened.

"Your little game was pointless anyway. I will never apologize for loving Kurt, even if it means losing my career, my Class status, or you. Kurt is a hundred times the man you will ever be. He's strong and caring and supportive and everything you've never been for me. You attacked Kurt to get to me, and that speaks volumes about the man that you are.

"So don't worry about hurting me and Kurt, because we can get through anything together. But don't think that physical pain is the only way to hurt us. Every time you discriminate against other classes, that hurts me. When you try to pass laws that further separate 'us' from 'them,' that hurts me. When you treat someone differently because of what they were born into, that hurts me. And every time you turn a blind eye to or perpetuate the injustice in the world, that hurts me. Think about that.

"Now. You will let Kurt go and never touch him again. If you do, you can say goodbye to me and to your legacy. Do you understand me?" Blaine looked up and realized everyone was watching him in awe. He wished he could have read Kurt's emotions in his eyes, but they were closed while he tried to breathe through the pain. Blaine combed Kurt's hair back off his face. A corner of Kurt's mouth twitched upward in thanks. Blaine hated his father for what he had done. Kurt would have permanent physical scars because of this, and both he and Blaine would forever face the residual emotional trauma.

"I said," Blaine repeated, more sternly this time. "Do you understand me?"

The Chancellor looked pale and afraid. For the first time in Blaine's life, his father looked like he was out of his depth, lost without a clue what to do.

Mr. Anderson gave an almost imperceptible nod. "Yes."

Blaine glared at White while he unlocked Kurt's handcuffs.

"I never want to see you again. Leave here or I'll make you disappear," Blaine threatened. White backed away quickly and vanished into the crowd.

Blaine turned back to Kurt, who was leaning against the post for support. He tried to take a step toward Blaine and collapsed into his arms.

The last thing he remembered was Blaine stroking his hair and repeating the mantra. "It's over now. You're okay. I love you."

Then he blacked out.