Happy Wednesday! How are you all doing?

This is chapter 17. I honestly cannot believe how fast this story is going by. I'm very happy that you're enjoying it and I appreciate your positive comments and feedback so, so much. Thanks for coming with me on this journey.

So much love for Christine, best beta in the fandom, and Sofi, who rocks at reminding me what's next in my WIP list, because I honestly have too many ideas and can't keep track of them anymore.

Time to read! Enjoy!

The espresso Sugar had brought him ten minutes ago in an attempt to help him focus on the pile of financial reports currently residing on his desk was going cold, mostly untouched. Kurt rubbed at his tired blue eyes – he had been staring at the computer screen and reading a million reports non-stop for hours. He hadn't even stopped for lunch today, wanting to get as much done as possible. He was hoping the work would distract him from staring at the phone waiting for news, but he had underestimated just how boring these reports could be.

He hummed a little melody under his breath, a tune from a musical he had seen long ago, when he still had time to go to the theatre, when he made a point to enjoy life, before his sense of duty tried to crush him like a bug.

He wondered if Blaine liked the theatre. Maybe they could take a night off soon, go see a play or a musical. Do something normal, for a change.

It had been a long time since Kurt had longed for normal, but with Blaine… even the most ordinary things seemed extraordinary. He wanted each and every single one of them.

Having a dinner with him every night had probably become Kurt's favorite ritual since they'd gotten married. He hadn't expected to enjoy something so simple that much, but he actually looked forward to it every day. Most nights, Blaine insisted on cooking, saying he was more than capable of taking care of their meals and that they didn't need to bother Santana every single night when she already ran around working for them the entire day. Kurt had tried to make Blaine see that it was more practical to have Santana take care of those things for them, but in the end, he had agreed with his husband. It gave them more time alone, and Kurt appreciated that.

He craved those hours alone with his husband, the bright light at the end of his usually bleak days.

His phone buzzed on the polished desk surface. Santana's name flashed on the screen, and Kurt immediately grabbed it. "Yes, Santana?"

She skipped the pleasantries. She usually did, but now the tone of her voice indicated that things were truly serious. "We have a real problem here. I couldn't find anything on Wally Thorpe, but I did find out that Jacob Taylor had a brother. We just didn't find him sooner because we didn't know where to look. His father had been married before he met Taylor's mom, and had another child. His name is Jeffrey Puckerman. He's serving time for fraud and theft."

"Shit," Kurt muttered under his breath. "So it's Puckerman after all."

"Yes, it is. The only reason I found him is because Jacob Taylor actually went by his father's last name when he was in high school. Jacob Puckerman. I found his academic records. He was a bright but problematic kid."

"This explains how Noah got access to all of Cooper's flight information. They worked together, and Cooper trusted him. He often left him in charge when he was away on business. And he just sold corporate information on the side, for extra profit."

"That's right," Santana confirmed. "What are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to wait for you to get back with all this new information you found, see if there's any more evidence we can add to it, and then we're going to go straight to the police," Kurt replied. He sighed. "Blaine's going to be very upset when he finds out. Go straight to the penthouse, Santana. I'm leaving the office now to pick up Blaine at work. I think it's better if I tell him about this. We might need to take some extra safety precautions while we solve this."

"Yes, sir," Santana said automatically. "I'm leaving now. I should be back in New York before midnight."

"We'll see you then," Kurt said, and hung up.

Kurt didn't want to waste a single second. He grabbed his coat and his bag and got up. He walked out of the office without much explanation to his secretary – he simply told her he was going home and if anything important happened, she could reach him there. Sugar was filing her nails at her desk and didn't have much time to respond before Kurt was in the elevator and going down to the underground garage.

Driving usually cleared Kurt's head, but today it felt too cluttered with information, with concerns, with questions he still didn't have any answers for. He was relieved that it wasn't yet rush hour so the traffic wasn't as heavy as it could be, and he arrived at Extravaganza only fifteen minutes later. He parked the Mercedes in front of the store and strolled inside with a brisk pace.

Tina was behind the counter and she looked up from the book she was reading with a polite customer-service smile that morphed into a bit of a frown when she saw Kurt there.

"Mr. Hummel-Anderson, hi," she said, clearly surprised.

"Hi Tina," he said. "I'm here to see Blaine. Is he in his office?"

Her frown deepened. "Uh, no. He went home like an hour ago."

"What?" Kurt was the surprised one now.

"Yeah, he said he was going home to meet you. He got your message."

Kurt felt as if his stomach was suddenly hollowed. He forced himself to remain calm. "What message, Tina?"

"The one Sugar's assistant gave him. She said she had asked her to call Blaine and tell him to meet you at home, that it was important. That's all I know about it, Mr. Hummel-Anderson," Tina explained, an edge of concern in her voice. "Is everything okay?"

Kurt knew he should have reassured her that everything was indeed okay, but his heart was pounding in terror – who had called Blaine? Where was he now? What if he was hurt?

He turned around and ran out of the boutique, leaving an open-mouthed Tina behind. He had to get to Blaine.

It required all the willpower that Kurt had to take the elevator to the sixth floor instead of going all the way to the top floor where Blaine was probably in danger. But Kurt told himself that nothing was more important now than choosing each of his steps carefully, so he went into Santana's apartment.

He knew Blaine was here because the doorman had seen him arrive, but he had reported that no one who matched Puckerman's description had entered the building. Kurt knew this didn't mean anything, though: Puckerman could probably find a way to slide inside without being noticed, disguised as a delivery person or any of a number of other seemingly innocent people. He had no idea how he would have gotten the access code you had to enter in the elevator when you wanted to go up to the penthouse, but Kurt was sure a man like Puckerman, who had managed to fool everyone around him for years, would manage. The security system was good, but no system was completely fool-proof.

Santana's apartment was dark when he went in. It was six o'clock and the sun had gone down already, winter quick at their heels. Kurt went straight to the intercom panel and, one by one, started pressing all the buttons, checking carefully every room in his own apartment.

He couldn't hear anything in the kitchen, study or living room. There was absolute silence everywhere. A sliver of crazy hope started growing in Kurt's chest: maybe Blaine wasn't there. Maybe he had come home and, not finding Kurt, had left again.

And then another thought crossed Kurt's mind. Maybe it was all so silent because Blaine was hurt. Maybe he was too late. Maybe he had failed.

No. No, he couldn't think like that. He needed to keep his calm, otherwise the panic would set in and he would be of no help to Blaine.

He took a deep breath and went through the logical process he had gone through since he had left Anderson Unlimited. If Blaine had gotten that phone call, then it meant Puckerman's plan was already in action. So there were two possibilities: either Puckerman had taken Blaine out of the building, which wasn't very simple considering the doorman and the many security cameras at the lobby, or he was upstairs with Blaine, waiting for him.

Kurt knew he was the real target. The idea that Blaine could get hurt because of him was unbearable.

If he got his hands on Puckerman…

He pressed the intercom button that covered the hallways, where he found nothing once more, before he pressed the greenhouse one. He sucked in his breath when he immediately heard Blaine's voice. He sounded indignant, annoyed.

"What did you do with Wally Thorpe?" He asked. He managed to hide the fear perfectly, Kurt noticed proudly, if he felt any.

"He knew too much," Puckerman replied casually. "I made sure he didn't know exactly who he was dealing with, so I handled matters mostly by phone, but after Cooper's plane went down, he started getting cold feet. He was scared, the police were asking too many questions, even your husband showed up to ask questions of his own. I got worried that he might go to the authorities and confess, so…"

He didn't finish his sentence, but he didn't need to. It was perfectly clear, what he had done.

"You're a monster," Blaine said angrily. "You told me you're doing this to avenge your brother, but you don't care who else gets hurt in the process."

"I don't need to justify what I do to you, dude. Shut up."

"Kurt will be furious when he gets his hands on you," Blaine said, a lot more calmly than Kurt expected him to. "He's a very dangerous man."

"He's a dead man," Puckerman chuckled. "As soon as he walks into this greenhouse, you're going to shoot him."

"Anyone who knows me will know I didn't kill him," Blaine said fiercely.

"They'll believe it. They'll tell themselves you lost it when you discovered Hummel married you for business reasons."

"You got it all wrong." Kurt noticed a tinge of desperation along with the rage in Blaine's voice now. "I'm the one who married Kurt for business reasons. He's doing me a favor."

Puckerman snorted. "You believe that bullshit? Hummel is a clever bastard, I'll give him that."

"He doesn't need Anderson Unlimited," Blaine insisted.

"Whether he needs it or not doesn't matter. He wants it. The company is successful…"

While Puckerman talked, Kurt released the button on the intercom. Now he knew where he was holding Blaine. As he took a few breaths, trying to center himself, Kurt removed his coat. He needed a plan. He needed a way to get Blaine out of the greenhouse unharmed.

He left his jacket and tie on the back of an armchair. It wasn't easy to think clearly when he knew Blaine needed him. He would have to get creative if he wanted to save his husband.

Kurt left Santana's apartment and got back into the elevator, this time to make it to the top floor. When he got off, he swiftly moved down the hallway, past the front door and stopped at the side door that opened onto the emergency stairwell instead. He opened it soundlessly.

He went up the concrete steps two at a time. At the top, he opened the door to the terrace and slid outside. The stairwell exit was concealed behind the looming structure that housed the building's elevator machinery.

He could see the blue-green glow from the greenhouse, which took up most of the roof. There were splotches of color here and there, flowers blooming on their shelves and on the workbenches. But Kurt looked past his beloved orchids and his eyes settled on the two figures standing right in the center of it all. He could see Blaine leaning against one of the tables, trying to look relaxed and unconcerned, but obviously scared. Puckerman was just a few feet away. Kurt could see the gun he was holding with stark and painful clarity.

Moving slowly to keep out of sight, Kurt crossed the rooftop towards the greenhouse entry. His heart was pounding so hard he was afraid they would hear it despite the New York traffic being so loud, all those floors below them. His hands were shaking when he reached the control panel right outside the greenhouse door.

He wasn't a religious man, but he was ready to start praying for a miracle.

It was difficult not to let the panic set in, but Blaine was trying to do his best. He kept his arms crossed firmly so Puck wouldn't see the shaking of his hands, and he took a few deep breaths, taking in the scent of the flowers all around them. Just being here made him feel closer to Kurt, safer. He was still nervous – he didn't want Puckerman to hurt his husband – but he found that it was easier to stay calm if he focused on that.

The place on his face where Puckerman had hit him seemed to be throbbing. He resisted the urge to touch it with his fingertips.

Puckerman was clearly getting restless. The gun was still aimed at him, but he would check the time over and over again, more and more frequently as the minutes passed. There was a bead of sweat making its way down his temple.

"Maybe Kurt got held up at the office," Blaine suggested with a little shrug. "There's no telling when he'll be home. He works late sometimes."

"That's bullshit," Puckerman retorted. "Ever since he's married you, he's home right on time. I've been keeping an eye on his movements." He ran a hand down his face. "It's fucking hot in here."

Blaine tried to remain cool and collected. "What do you expect? It's a greenhouse."

But, secretly, Blaine agreed that the temperature seemed to be rising. It was hot and humid inside the greenhouse, a lot more than it had been when they first came in. He wondered if maybe something was wrong with the climate system. Maybe Puckerman had pressed the wrong button when he was trying to turn the lights on earlier.

"I can't wait for that bastard to get here. He's going to walk into a trap just like my brother did," Puckerman said. He looked like he was roasting in that heavy leather jacket he was wearing.

"Look, no offense, but don't you think you're going a bit far to avenge your brother?" Blaine asked casually. Maybe if he kept him talking, he could figure out a way to get out of here unharmed and warn Kurt. "He was an arms dealer. It's dangerous. It comes with the territory. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose."

"He was my brother," Puckerman replied. "We grew up with a shitty dad who did the exact same thing. The only thing he ever taught us was how to lie and con and steal. But he was a bright kid. He should have had a different life. We all should have…"

"A little late for regrets," Blaine muttered.

"Easy for you to say. It's always easy when you have a nice family to back you up. You are all born with a fucking silver spoon in your mouth, don't you think that makes it easier to be all high and mighty?"

"My parents were middle class at best. Kurt's were working class. His dad owned a tire shop in Ohio. Do you think he was born a millionaire? Then you know nothing about him. He's had to suffer a great deal to get to where he is now," Blaine said fiercely. "And so did my brother. He worked hard on something he loved, and he didn't deserve what happened to him. Not after how nice he was to you. He thought you were his friend. He trusted you."

"Every single day I had to go in to work for him and smile at him and joke with him and it made me fucking sick," Puckerman said bitterly. "Seeing his face only reminded me of what I lost. I thought that after his plane went down things would be easier, but no, you had to bring in the only person who was worse to be around than Cooper. You had to bring Hummel in."

"It's Hummel-Anderson," Blaine corrected furiously.

"Fuck that," Puck scoffed as he wiped more sweat from his face. "And fuck this heat! Shit, this is so uncomfortable."

He put the gun down on the table right next to him and proceeded to remove his jacket.

At that very moment, the lights of the greenhouse flickered out. Blaine didn't even have time to get used to the sudden darkness when a hard, driving rain started to fall from the ceiling.

He heard Puckerman cursing under his breath. Blaine reacted as quickly as he could. He had one advantage, and that was that he had been in this greenhouse more times than Puckerman had. He slipped under the table next to him and blindly started crawling towards the exit, as the rain kept falling upon them. It was astonishing how much of it there was.

"What the fuck is going on?" Puckerman screamed angrily. He probably couldn't see Blaine. "Where are you, you little asshole? Get back here."

Blaine crawled a little faster, but was careful not to knock anything that might giveaway where he was.

"You're going to die too, you stupid shit. I'm going to push you over the fucking edge of the rooftop. I'm going to enjoy all of it very, very much…"

Blaine realized that the greenhouse door was open. He hurried the last few inches and crawled outside, only to be immediately grabbed by a pair of strong hands that pulled him up to his feet. He was drenched, head to toe, and he shivered slightly as the cold November air hit him.

"Blaine," Kurt's voice was soft and it cracked a bit.

"Kurt," his relief almost made him want to cry. He wanted to throw his arms around Kurt's neck and move closer and never let go. "He's got a gun. We have to…"

"Listen to me," he said urgently, cupping his face. Blaine thought he saw a flash of anger go through his blue eyes when he noticed the bruise on his face, but there was no time to deal with it now. "I need you to go outside. Count to ten and turn the lights back on. It's the right hand side of the panel, remember?"

"I remember. But Kurt, you can't…"

"Blaine, please," Kurt said firmly. "Do as I say. We don't have much time."

Blaine could only nod and stumble his way to the panel, shivering, as Kurt slipped inside the greenhouse quietly.

"It's you, isn't it, Hummel?" Puck was screaming in the darkness. "I'm going to find you. I'm going to kill you, you bastard."

With a shuddering breath, Blaine pressed the button on the panel that brought the lights back on and lifted his head to look at the greenhouse at the exact time Kurt launched himself at Puckerman.

Blaine bit back a scream as he watched Puckerman trying to aim the gun, but it was hard with the rain still falling steadily on them. Blaine couldn't see clearly either, even from a distance, so he guessed it was even more confusing in the middle of it.

Kurt was just as drenched as him within seconds, his crisp white shirt pasted to his skin. It was a blur of hands as they struggled, Kurt trying to reach for the gun while Puck tried to point it at him. Blaine felt his heart pounding – he wondered if he was supposed to run back in there, to help, to go call the police, but all he could do was stay there, completely frozen.

The whole thing didn't take longer than two minutes, but it seemed as if time had actually slowed down. Blaine could swear he was able to count each individual drop of water as it rained down on them in slow motion. But then a shot rang out across the greenhouse, glass shattering, and time wasn't only slow: it just stopped existing.

Blaine ran back into the greenhouse, unable to breathe, needing to see if Kurt was alright. Puckerman had shot and missed, but Kurt had taken the opportunity to knock him against one of the shelves. They were now on the floor, and Kurt landed a punch on his face, just in case, to make sure he stayed down. Blaine hurried to kick the gun away, putting it out of reach for Puckerman, who groaned and didn't move again.

"Is he… is he dead?" Blaine asked, voice shivering as badly as the rest of him.

"No. He's just unconscious. He got a pretty bad hit to the head when we fell," Kurt murmured, as he stood up. He turned to Blaine, frowning, hair falling on his face and dripping into his eyes. "Blaine…"

"Oh Kurt," Blaine threw himself right into his husband's waiting arms. "Oh god, I thought something was going to happen to you. I thought… I'm so glad you're okay."

"I'm glad you are okay," Kurt murmured, and he sounded bewildered, like he still couldn't believe Blaine was safe and sound in his arms. He gently touched the bruise on Blaine's face with the tips of his fingers. "He hurt you…"

"I'm fine," Blaine reassured him, but the smile didn't come easy to his lips. "I promise."

Kurt didn't look convinced, but he let it go for now. He glanced down at Puckerman, who remained unconscious and unmoving. "Come on. We have to go call the police."

He grabbed the gun from underneath one of his workbenches and made sure to put the safety on. He then reached for Blaine's hand and pulled him out of the greenhouse.

"Kurt, your orchids…" Blaine murmured, looking around as they walked out. The rain kept pouring down, filling the pots and making huge puddles on the floor. "They're all ruined."

"It doesn't matter," Kurt said in a low voice. He didn't look back.

Blaine clung to him, and let him guide him away.

When I first started writing this story, Noah Puckerman wasn't in it. Cooper's assistant was Mr. Schue instead, because it seemed to make more sense and I don't like him :) But I needed someone with a brother for obvious plot reasons, and Puck made a lot more sense. I always loved Puck as a character, so I was a little reluctant to make him into such a villain. But I think it worked out alright in the end. Hope you agree. There'll be a bit more about him in the next chapter.

And I also hope you all enjoyed this update. Can't wait to hear your thoughts on it.

Have a great week! See you next Wednesday!

Love,

L.-