AN: Hi Everyone.

Thank you to everyone who supports me. :)

OK, on to the story, as the description says there is a MAJOR character death and this is the chapter. Rated M for graphic voilence. This was REALLY hard to write because I LOVE all the characters involved in this story. This story isn't "ANTI" anyone. As I said I respect and love ALL characters

So if this offends you click out now. You've been warned.

Anyways, thank you to those who have reviewed and supported all my other stories. :)

I hope this ok.

Thank you for reading.-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEXx3

Chapter 2

"Did you get them?"

Blaine sighed as he opened the patrol car door. "YES, I got them."

Dave boyishly clapped his hands just as Blaine sat down in the passenger seat. "Yaaay!"

"Oh shut up."

Dave giggled as he took the Burger King onion rings in his greedy hand. Blaine set aside his tiny burger and fries and handed Dave his enormous, all-meat sandwich. Blaine's nose scrunched up.

"That's gonna give you a heart attack, Dave."

Dave grinned and took an enormous bite. "But what a way to go!"

Blaine shook his head, setting their Cokes in the holders between them. After a few bites of fast food were secured in their bellies, Blaine turned to him.

"What's on the scanner?"

Dave peered at the screen and then back to his food. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yup. Nothing."

Blaine shrugged. "Seems strange."

Dave swallowed. "Why?"

Blaine took a sip of his Coke. "Well, it's near midnight and you'd think there'd be something. Domestic violence, barfight, petty theft, vandalism… But, nothing. It's odd."

"I like it!" Dave enthusiastically said. "That means I get more time with my food."

"Annnnnnd?"

Dave rolled his eyes. "And with you…I suppose."

"You supPOSE?!"

"Well, yeah. I mean… Well, I like working with you." Then he sighed. "We don't get to do this very often."

"That might be a good thing." Blaine said, nibbling a French fry.

"Why?"

"Well, I've heard that people who work AND live together often aren't as happy as other couples."

Dave came to a complete halt. "I'd never get tired of you."

Blaine almost rolled his eyes. "Dave, don't you remember what happened earlier today?"

Dave evilly grinned. "Of course I do."

"That's not what I meant."

"Oooookay. Then, what?"

Blaine shifted in his seat and set his fries on the console. "The curtains."

"Yeah? What about them?"

Blaine looked clearly uncomfortable for a few seconds. Dave consumed the rest of his Whopper and didn't pay too much attention to his partner. But after silence was the only response, Dave placed his full attention to his boyfriend.

"Blaine? What's wrong?"

Blaine sighed. "Well… Curtains are important. Even designers say so and I think the late Alexander McQueen would have loved the ones I wanted."

Dave blinked. "Oooookay, but that-"

"And when you can't agree on anything as simple as CURTAINS, what can you agree on?"

Dave blinked twice. "You're kidding me, right?" Blaine said nothing. "Look Blaine, you could hang up corrugated cardboard for all I care. I don't care about curtains."

"But you should!"

Dave wiped his face with a paper napkin. "Alright. What's going on?"

Blaine gulped his Coke, a delaying tactic that proved to be way too short. "I just… I feel…"

Blaine's head dropped. Dave realized something else was happening here and did what he knew to do – he placed his hand in Blaine's. They sat there for a hot minute, soaking up greasy food, noisy teenagers at the nearby Burger King, and police jargon on the scanner. Out of habit, Dave checked the screen and didn't see any activity. So, they had plenty of time. But still, Blaine wasn't talking and they could get interrupted at any time. So, Dave took the bull by the horns.

"I only mean," Dave quietly began, "that whatever you want for our house is OK with me. Just as long…" he scratched his full jaw, "just as long as I'm there with you."

"And I'm afraid," Blaine suddenly began, "that if I'm around you too much, you'll get sick of me."

Dave's eyes widended. "Y-you're kidding me, right?" Blaine looked morose. "You aren't kidding me. Look Blaine, I love you. I want to be with you as much as I can. I mean, look at us now! We're chowing down on unhealthy food in my cruiser and I'm happy!"

Blaine looked up, eyes slightly glossy. "You are?"

"Hell yeah, I am! In fact…" He looked away for a second and then a wry grin spread on his face.

Blaine cautiously looked at him (as well as deftly seeing that nothing was on the police screen). "David, what are you thinking?"

Dave glanced at him sideways and then fished around his food. Blaine was dumbfounded and just watched the show. But quite suddenly, Dave emerged with an enormous onion ring. But something was wrong with it and he dropped it back in the box. He fished around again and found an even bigger one and grinned like a five-year old. He wiped his greasy hands on his uniform and turned to Blaine, who had a silly expression on his own face.

Dave smiled, took a breath, and said, "Five to four."

Blaine was baffled. "Huh?"

"Five to four!"

"Wha….?"

Dave grinned harder. "Five to four! That was the vote in the Supreme Court. Remember?"

Blaine just looked at him, looked away for a second, and then his eyes went wide. "Da-David, you're not thinking what I think you're thinking…are you?"

"Uh huh!"

Then, Dave wiggled closer and held the onion ring up. "Blaine Anderson, this onion ring is the only ring I have on me right now, but thanks to the Supreme Court, we can be together and I can prove to you how much I love you. I don't want to worry about anything else right now. Only US. And I know that if you'll let me, I'll be the best husband in the world."

Dave extended his finger and placed the onion ring around it. Meanwhile, Blaine didn't quite know how to react. A spatter of jargon on the police scanner didn't seem to matter since it didn't involve them. Instead, Blaine just watched this incredibly goofy guy smiling at him with an onion ring over his index finger.

"Are you serious?" Blaine asked.

Dave's face fell. "Yeah. I am. Absolutely."

Blaine grew serious as well, despite the silliness of what he was about to do. So, without a further delay, Blaine slipped his finger into the onion ring, right beside Dave's. They were equal partners and this odd way of showing it was endearing.

"I have to admit," Blaine softly said, "that this isn't quite the proposal I was looking for, but there's something about this that's soooo…"

Dave leaned forward. "What?"

Blaine did too. "It's just soooo…" Breaths mingled, lips drew closer. "It's…so sweet."

"YOU FUCKING BITCH! YOU'RE MINE!"

Dave and Blaine flipped their heads towards the restaurant just as chatter came from the police scanner. "Unit 529, shooter at Burger King, Route 117, armed and dangerous." The cops leapt into action and neither knew where the onion ring went. Instead, they secured their belts, put their caps on, and marched into the fast food restaurant.

Chaos, chaos, chaos. Customers ducked under seats, employees hid as best they could, the manager was still on the phone with the 9-1-1 operator, and standing there in the lobby was a terrified teenage girl.

A gun was held to her head. The gunman had a wild look in his eyes and he completely ignored her fear. And tears. The officers slowly approached them, hands on their pieces just in case…

"Fuck off, pigs!" He roared.

"What's your name, son?" Dave asked.

"Fuck off!"

"Please, buddy." Blaine intervened. "Look at her. She's terrified."

"She fucking should be!"

Blaine glanced at her and yes, she was clearly shaken, but she was not injured. Dave's eyes never left the gunman's.

"What's your name, buddy?" Blaine asked.

"Fuck off! I ain't yo' buddy!"

"Alright then. What's your name?"

The gunman ignored them and turned his attention to her. "Did you fucking call the pigs, Tara? DID YOU?!" He pushed the barrel of the gun on her temple. And then, he pressed harder. She squealed from the pain, three tears suddenly coursing down her face.

"Sir!" Dave said. "Drop the gun. It'll only get worse for you if you don't."

"How can it be any fucking worse?!" Then he once again turned his attention to Tara. "And you would leave me? When I needed you the most? HUH?! You fucking selfish, spoiled, do-goody, good-for-nuthin' BITCH!"

Suddenly Blaine was only a few feet away from them. "Please, sir-"

"BACK THE FUCK UP, PIG!"

Blaine froze and Dave kept his eye on him.

Tara was now visibly shaking and probably couldn't speak. Patrons and employees were invisible to Dave and Blaine. The cops had their sole focus on the threat and nothing was being accomplished.

"What did she do to you?" Blaine suddenly asked.

The gunman peered at Blaine and didn't like talking to him. He glanced at Dave.

"Yeah." Dave suddenly said. "What's going on here? You've got a lot of people scared right now."

"THEY SHOULD BE!"

"Why?" Blaine asked. "What did everybody here do? You can't be happy right now and you're in a lot of trouble. But did everybody here mess with you?" He took a slow, careful step forward, then he exhaled. "People here just want to eat and leave. And look at Tara. LOOK at her." The gunman finally did. "That's terror, sir. Look at how afraid she is."

The gunman tightened his grip and threateningly said, "She should be."

Blaine took another step towards them and neither Tara or the gunman said anything. Dave rounded them the other way and within a few seconds, they surrounded the young couple.

"Please, sir." Blaine persisted. "Why does she deserve to die like this?"

"Because I love her."

"You love her?" Blaine asked. "And you have a gun to her head at a Burger King?"

"I love her!" He insisted. "And then one day, she left me."

Tara blinked more tears and finally said, "Y-you ma-made my life…miserable."

"Oh, you're just being stubborn!"

Blaine intervened. "Well, she just wants to live. Like you, sir. And we all want to be happy in our own ways." Dave glanced at Blaine and then back on the perp. "And Tara? Let's not talk about this right now. Let's talk about your family. Is there anything you'd like to say to them right now, if you could?"

CLEVER, Dave thought. He knew what Blaine was up to. He was trying to get the gunman to see that Tara is a human and not an obsessive object. Still though, the gunman had the clear advantage here and Dave put the palm of his hand on his gun.

"I have a twin sister." Tara softly said.

"Is that so?" Blaine asked.

"Y-yeah… She's pregnant. I just hope…"

Blaine took a slow step towards her just as Dave did behind them…

"You just hope what?" Blaine asked.

"I just hope," Tara softly added, "that when I'm dead, my sister will name the baby after me. And that my new niece will have a guardian angel. Oh! And tell my mom and dad that I love them and will watch over them."

Blaine and Dave had seen quite a lot in the year and a half they were cops. But there was nothing more intense than this. Blaine fought to keep it together as he took yet another step towards them.

"I'll definitely tell them all of that, Tara." Blaine quietly said.

She sniffed back some tears. "Good. Good. Thank you."

"You're very welcome."

They smiled at each other, one fighting back tears and the other not even trying to fight them back.

"Oh yes," the gunman interrupted, "Oh yes. How touching. How fucking sweet! And nothing about me at all?!"

"You made me miserable, Jake!"

His face turned into determined hate. "Well, then. That's it."

Blaine and Dave's eyes went wide. Dave's gun was out. Blaine was reaching for his. Tara closed her eyes.

"See you in hell." Jake said.

There was a muffled sound to Jake's right.

And then, Jake fired.

Everything happened so fast. Dave anticipated what would happen and moved to tackle Jake. But when he did, Jake fired as they were falling to the floor. Screams filled the room and Dave was busy securing the shooter.

"Stay down!" Dave ordered Jake. He had the gunman's arms around his lower back and was securing handcuffs. Dave radioed the station that the situation was under control and that the hostage was fine. But Jake wasn't done fighting.

"Get off me, you pig!"

Dave hoisted Jake's bound hands up and ignored Jake's screams of pain. "Just shut up and stay still."

Dave kept a knee on Jake's back and assessed the situation. The manager had locked the doors and customers were slowly recovering. He radioed back the situation to the station.

"This is Unit 529," Dave officiously said into the little microphone. "Situation is secure and gunman is down." He looked around. "Hostage is safe. People are fine. Manager already reviewing security footage. Officer Anderson is…"

Time stopped. The world around him lost focus. He couldn't understand the chatter around him and the confusion on people's faces. The restaurant manager was saying something to him and he couldn't hear her. Nothing made sense. Nothing could make sense. And time still wouldn't work right.

After a second or two, Dave could understand a few words here and there… "Carotid artery!" … "Too much blood!" … "Do something cop!" … "Stop the bleeding!" And as Dave pulled himself out of his stupor, he realized that a police officer was down.

He was down.

Officer Anderson was down.

Officer Blaine Anderson was down.

Blaine was down.

Blaine.

Blaine.

Blaine.

Jake's bullet traveled through Blaine's throat at hundreds of miles an hour. His body lied on the restaurant floor, ugly, undignified, and bleeding. Dave crawled over to him and reached for his radio. He had to call for an ambulance. He had to call for backup. He had to call to survive. He had to do something! He had to fucking do something! He just had to fucking do something anything to fucking help this fucking something do something help just had to fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK!

Suddenly, Dave felt something on his hand. He looked down and Blaine's bloody hand was touching his own. Dave finally snapped out of it.

"BLAINE!"

But the smaller cop didn't move anymore after that. There was simply too much blood loss. The sounds of sirens could be heard from afar. And Dave refused to let go of the hand.

He plopped down on the floor beside Blaine and wept. He just wept like a two-year-old. Dave let his chin drop to his chest and couldn't comprehend what had just happened. He didn't even try to stop the sobs that heaved his chest up and down like compressions. He struggled to get air in his lungs and it hurt after a while. But he just couldn't do anything anymore. Even when the paramedics had to physically push him out of the way, he just curled up on the floor and stared. They worked on Blaine's body feverishly. Dave knew they were. He could hear them and understood some of the jargon.

But Dave hardly paid them any attention. Instead, he just listened for that god-awful sound – the steady stream of the heart monitor, indicating no heartbeat. It took a second or two for them to setup the equipment, but when they did, there was the sound.

Dave closed his eyes. Blaine was dead. The paramedics couldn't help him. Tara was safe and sound. And somewhere in the recesses of Dave's mind, he oddly thought of onion rings.

.

EN: OK... So I hope no one gets offended. If you continue to trust me I think this will be worth it.

I love Blaine. And this isn't the last you will see of him. If that's worth anything. If anyone has questions, PLEASE let me know. I'll try to answer as best as I can.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and continue to support me.-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3