Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

His head was hurting as hell when Kurt finally came to. He blinked and looked around. Where the hell was he? One thing was clear: He wasn't at the lodge anymore; he was in some kind of storage room. His hands and ankles were tied to a chair and thanks to the tape glued to his mouth, he was unable to speak, or call for help.

Great.

If only his head wasn't hurting so bad and made it hard for him to focus, he would try to get help mentally. Vince and those people must have used some kind of drug on him so that he didn't wake up that soon and he still felt kind of numb.

Kurt looked around in the storage room. He needed to find a way to cut open the ropes so that he could escape. But apart from the paper boxes and a couple of chairs, there was nothing sharp he could use to free himself. Unless…

He scooted closer to the corner of the wall behind him and started rubbing his hand bondages against the sharp corner. Maybe he could damage the ropes so that he could rip them apart.

Yes, sounded like a plan.

The paparazzi in front of Tina's apartment complex just wouldn't disappear, and it was kind of getting annoying now. Seriously, didn't they have own lives, or other people to stalk?

It's been less than twenty-four hours since Tina revealed who she was, and now, those reporters were camping in front of her home nonstop in hopes to get an interview with that bestseller author. Now, she knew how all of those celebrities must feel.

Artie who had refused to leave her side since her coming out peeked out of the curtains of her living room. "Those people have no lives", he stated with a frown. "Seems like you will be trapped in here forever."

Tina sighed deeply. "I knew something like that would happen if I told the entire world who I am. That's why I invented Vivian Kennedy in the first place."

At that moment, someone rang her doorbell, and she flinched.

Artie retrieved his baseball bat from his bag. "Now, those creeps even dare coming to your apartment? As far as I know, that's a criminal act."

"Tina, it's me, Mike", Mike said through the door.

"Mike?" Artie skeptically cocked one eyebrow. "Mike, the same guy who published your novel against your will, thus dragging you into this mess?"

"Tina, please, I'm sorry about what happened", Mike went on. "And I'm here to help you, okay? Please just let me in so that we can talk about everything."

Artie threw her a warning glance. "You still trust that guy, after everything he has done?"

Instead of answering, Tina unlocked the door and let Mike enter, a blond guy followed him.

"Who's that?", Artie asked him immediately and nodded to the guy behind Mike.

"That's Spencer Porter", Mike introduced him solemnly. "He already worked for the FBI and was in the Navy for one and a half years."

Artie eyed him up and down with a frown. "So?"

"From now on, he will protect Tina wherever she will go. And of course, I will pay for it, that's the very least I can do for you after I have dragged you into that situation."

"He is supposed to protect Tina?", Artie exclaimed incredulously. "Just look at him! He's still a kid!"

"Hey!", Spencer complained "I'm twenty-one! Well…almost…"

"Aha!" Artie crossed his arms victoriously. Mike threw him a killing glance. "Do you have a better idea?", he snapped at him.

"Guys!", Tina hissed sharply. "Get your act together, okay?" She looked back at Mike "I appreciate that you want to help me, but I don't need a babysitter."

"Yes, and besides, there have been a couple of bodyguards that raped their female clients", Artie deadpanned.

"Maybe in your dreams", Mike scoffed with a scowl. "Spencer is an exceptionally gifted martial artist that takes his responsibility more than serious."

"So?", Artie huffed "He still has something called libido."

"But I'm not even into women", Spencer spoke up.

"Shut up, Spencer!", Mike and Artie snapped in unison while they were glaring at each other in a hostile way.

"Enough!", Tina suddenly yelled irritatedly, and the guys flinched. She turned to Spencer with a smile. "So you can keep away all those annoying paparazzi from me?"

Spencer nodded shortly. "I will do everything that is necessary to keep you safe, Miss."

"Fine", Tina nodded. She tugged Spencer after her when she walked to her entrance door. "I'm in the mood for a latte, so let's go to Starbucks and drink some coffee."

"But I don't drink caffeine while on duty", Spencer pointed out.

"Now, you do", Tina barked, and he flinched slightly. With a smile, she chirped: "Oh, Spencer, that's the beginning of a great friendship." With that, she and her new bodyguard left her apartment, leaving two dumbfounded guys behind.

"Did she just ditch us for a gay kid?", Artie finally spoke up.

Mike nodded slowly. "I kind of start regretting I employed him…"

Whenever some of the guys came in to check on him, Kurt pretended he was still unconscious, just to continue rubbing the ropes on the corner as soon as they left. He had heard them mutter something about chloroforming him soon so that he didn't wake up.

He would still need some time to free himself, but at least, he had made some progress. Hopefully, he would be able to free himself before they would drug him again.

"So Sam…how do you earn your living?", Naomi Jones asked Sam while they were having dinner at their home with him.

As soon as Sam had promised her to have dinner with the Jones soon, he had booked a ticket to California. The first thing he and Mercedes did was kiss each other in real life – which felt by far better than only in their heads.

It was hard for them to not touch each other during dinner, because the only thing Sam wanted was to touch the woman next to him everywhere.

And according to Mercedes' glances, she seemed to feel the same. But sadly, they couldn't.

"No make out sessions while my parents are around", Mercedes had told him when they drove towards her parents' house.

"Not even mentally?", Sam had whined.

"Not even mentally", Mercedes confirmed sternly. "What kind of person would I be if I let you do it?"

So there they were, sitting next to each other and trying NOT to play footsie under the table.

"He is a professional surfer", Mercedes answered for him and put a couple of carrots onto her plate. "He already won a lot of tournaments, right, Sam? You are a great surfer."

Sam blushed a bit. "Let's not exaggerate…"

"Interesting", Conor said and eyed Sam up and down. "Did you already take part at Olympics?"

"Not yet, Sir", Sam answered politely. "The first surf competitions of Olympics will take place next year."

"And what do you want to do once your sports career is over?", Naomi asked him curiously.

Mercedes threw her a strange glance.

Sam, however, answered: "Who knows? Until now, everything goes according to plan, but I will start thinking about how things will continue once the time is ripe."

"I don't think you answered my question, young man", Naomi said with narrowed eyes. "As far as I know, sportspeople are young, maybe in their earlier twenties, or even teenagers. You, on the other hand, are already in your mid-twenties, once you turn thirty, people will watch out for younger talents, and there goes everything you have achieved."

"Mom!" Mercedes threw her a killing glance and her dad a pleading, help-seeking one.

Luckily, Conor seemed to get it. "Isn't your theory one little bit farfetched, darling?", he said to his wife.

"You know exactly I'm right, Conor", Naomi retorted calmly. She turned back to Sam. "Do you have some kind of backup plan? Did you go to college or something?"

Sam could literally feel how close Mercedes was to flipping out. Before he could open his mouth, she hissed with gritted teeth: "Sam is a grown-up man, mom." Mercedes had narrowed her eyes angrily, looking like a volcano that was about to erupt. "He knows what he is doing. Just because people that didn't graduate from college are not good enough for you, that doesn't mean that everyone shares this opinion."

Gosh, that's why Sam loved that woman.

"Mercy, baby, I just want your best", Naomi explained warmly "And I need to know whether your little white boy is on a par with you."

At that, Mercedes got up jerkily. "That's it, mom. I will no longer allow you insult my boyfriend like that. Come on, Sam, we are leaving."

She took Sam's hand and dragged him out of the living room, her parents were staring after them.

"Oh, and thanks for the dinner", Sam said politely before Mercedes dragged him away. "Your pasta was delicious."

Finally, finally, the ropes loosened up a bit, and Kurt was able to rip them apart and free his hands. He hastily freed himself from the bondages of his ankles, carefully ripped off the tape on his mouth, got up and rushed over to the door which luckily was not locked.

Quick, Kurt rushed out of the door, careful not to trip because of his dizziness. Apparently, the chloroform in his system still didn't wear off, and his limbs felt heavy.

Nevertheless, he forced himself to keep running.

When he left the building – he realized he hadn't exactly been in a building.

He was on a ship on high seas. Disbelieving, Kurt stared at the aquamarine blue seawater. That's why the surroundings felt so weird, because the ship was swaying on the waves all the time.

Kurt paled while he looked down the sea. Now, the waves got bigger and more aggressive, the ship was moving around and he almost tripped a couple of times. How was he supposed to escape now? Vince or his men were nowhere to be seen, but it was only a matter of time until they would find him. Whether they were still close to the coast of Seattle? How long has it been since he had been knocked down? Whether Finn, Blaine and the others already worried about him? They certainly needed to know that something was wrong, after all, Kurt didn't communicate with one of them for a while.

"How the hell could you escape?", someone behind him said sharply, and Kurt flinched when he turned around. A man in his mid-thirties was standing in front of him with a scowl. He recognized that voice, it was the same guy that had knocked him down from behind.

"What do you even want from me?", Kurt demanded to know.

The man laughed at him, and Kurt cocked his eyebrows. "We want nothing from you, young man", he said slowly. "But you know way too much. You know about what we are planning."

"And what is it you are planning?" He still didn't know all the details about their plans.

"We are searching for a group of freaks.", the man said gruffly. "People that have special powers, so called Sensates. We want to figure out how their brains are working. What if there is a way to give those powers to every human being on earth? That's what we want to find out."

They don't know about me being a Sensate, Kurt thought. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"I don't know whether your plans are ethical, Sir", he commented. "But what do I have to do with everything? Why did you kidnap me?"

The man snorted. "You know way too much, easy as that. Our boss is so close, and you can't just interfere with our plans. You are a risk factor that needs to be erased."

E…erased? Were they planning on killing him?

When the guy retrieved his gun, Kurt stepped back, the guard railing was the only thing behind him. In the meantime, the storm got stronger, so did the waves. "Okay, can we sort this out in another way?", he said calmly. "Preferably where none of us needs to die?"

"Actually, I wanted to off you a while ago, but Vincent wanted to postpone it", the man admitted. "And since Slatter is our bosses' lapdog, our boss said yes."

Kurt cocked his head to the side. "Vince tried to save me?"

The guy, however, laughed. "I don't think so, kid. Maybe, he only took pity on you because he slept with you a couple of times."

Kurt clenched his hands to fists. How could he ever be so stupid and think that Vincent genuinely loved him? How was he so stupid to engage to a complete stranger he didn't even know for half a year?

"Vince loved me", he said with narrowed eyes. "I'm sure he had a reason for acting how he did."

"Slatter only used you for our goals", the guy answered him back. "He never loved you."

Kurt had no idea why he was so mad about that this man said out loud what he already knew. "Take that back", he snapped.

"Nope." The guy unimpressedly looked at his gun. "I know Slatter, he is a manwhore that is not interested in long-term relationships. To be honest, I was kind of surprised he held on so long this time. But in the end, you were just one of his trophies. You meant nothing for him. Nothing."

That was the final straw. With balled fists, Kurt lunged at the other guy who didn't see that one coming and dropped the gun that glid right to the edge of the ship – and fell down, right into the sea.

"You son of a bitch!", the guy yelled. "Guys, he broke out! Move your sorry asses and help me, for fuck's sake!"

"Vince loved me, you stupid jerk!", Kurt yelled at him, wiping away the raindrops that fell into his face "I saw it in his eyes. Don't dare telling me otherwise."

The man punched him to his face, and Kurt reeled back, feeling how his nose started bleeding. Dammit, why was he still unable to use his powers?

"He never loved you, he is just an excellent actor", the man sneered.

Kurt ducked down when he wanted to punch him again. "And what if he changed?", he asked weakly while he wiped away the blood. Dammit, the chloroform was still affecting him, and he was afraid he would tip over any moment.

"People never change, you fucking idiot!", that guy roared, and Kurt held on to the railing to get up again. "Especially not someone as rotten as Slatter." He gripped both of Kurt's shoulders and looked him deep in the eyes. "But it won't matter anymore, you are going to die soon anyway."

This time, an exceptionally strong wave hit the ship, and since Kurt was leaning against the railing, he lost his balance – and fell right into the aggressive waves.

The other guy, however, was able to get a grip on the railing before he could fall in as well. "Goddammit!", he yelled loudly when he searched for his captive with his eyes, but it was no use; Kurt was nowhere to be seen.

As if the waves swallowed him completely.

"Shit!", he cursed loudly, bumping his fist in the air. "How am I going to explain this to the boss?" He halted in his tracks and looked down the waves again. The probability of surviving this kind of storm on the open ocean were practically zero percent, even for strong swimmers, right? Especially for someone who had been drugged not long ago.

He rubbed his hands, breaking into loud, diabolic laughter. Problem solved. His boss was going to be so proud of him.

Dun, dun, duuun!