Point of Origin

By: RavenHeart101

Disclaimer: By putting that word here I am disclaiming ownership of anything Glee related. Besides what I've bought. Cuz, you know, if I owned the show, Plaine would be canon.

Summary: Puck's been waiting for that big case for ages. Only now that he's got it, it may turn out to be more than he expected when he must confront murderers, thieves, and a corrupt District Attorney while balancing a romance with her very attractive ADA, Blaine Anderson.

A:N – Yeah. It took so long for me to get this chapter up. I would apologize but... yeah.

"Back up!" The police yelled at the gathering crowd, strict and professional for the moment since they did not know who had been in the accident. Not yet. They weren't allowed close enough by the paramedics just yet. The same paramedics that were keeping them as far away as was possible because if they knew things would go crazy. Puck was already going crazy.

The paramedics had tried to push him away from the scene for a while, until they realized that there was no where that he could go without possibly causing more damage than was necessary. And that was why Puck was crouched beside the drivers side door, his hands holding Blaine's neck as straight as he could, like all the cautionary tales told him to. There wasn't as much blood as Puck had expected, but there was still plenty more than he wanted. It was the closed eyes and unresponsive behavior and shallow breathing that were worrying him the most, though. "Wake up, wake up." Puck muttered, shifting into a more comfortable position, his legs trying not to crumple underneath the weight that was placed on them. "Come on." He encouraged, pressing his hands tighter, reveling in the small, steady, and strong enough beat of a pulse under his finger tips.

He let out a relieved sigh, letting his shoulders slump forward some and his forehead fall against the leather of the drivers seat. His eyes flicked open and surveyed the crowd surrounding the scene. News anchors were reporting, people were snapping pictures or talking rapidly on their phones, the paramedics were rushing to work on both Blaine and the person who had driven into him. And there, right at the steps of the court house, was the District Attorney Shelby Corcoran with her arms crossed over her chest and a very agitated Detective Anderson standing in front of her. He was saying something, yelling really, that much was obvious. He looked downright hysterical and Puck took a moment to consider that he may actually know what it was his brother in this car. That it was his brother that Puck was holding on to.

That it was his brother who was unfairly targeted...

"Damn it." The paramedic opposite him cursed, wiping a shaking hand across his sweat covered brow and narrowing his eyes in concentration as he tried to fit the brace around Blaine's neck only for it to fall onto the car's floor again. Puck never remembered it taking so long to put on a neck brace. It must be the guy's first day on the job or something. "Still no reaction?" The paramedic asked him with a small tremble to his voice.

"No." Puck shifted once more, murmuring a swear under his breath when his leg muscle began to shake against the exertion. He had been kneeling here for, what, half an hour? Maybe longer? And there was only so much the paramedics could do without hurting Blaine farther. The entire right side of the car was smashed in, curled in on itself and the front of the car had collapsed a bit. With Blaine unresponsive it was impossible to know if anything was broken or not. "Not yet."

"Shit." The paramedic cursed again, sliding out of the car easily enough and pushing Puck's shoulder a bit to kneel down beside him, his eyes drawing down to where Blaine's legs were under the steering wheel and the gash on his forehead. "Hey- hey Blaine? Can you hear me, bud?" Puck looked at him for a moment, his eyes betraying his look of confusion as the blonde paramedic hit Blaine's cheek lightly and kept talking as though Blaine could hear him. "I'm going to get a bed over here for you, okay? And we're going to move you over onto it and check you out. It'll be okay, I promise."

He was signaling behind him for something and another paramedic – a female this time – slid into the backseat of the car and placed the neck brace over Puck's steady hands, nodding at him when it was okay to move them out of the way. Blaine's eyelashes fluttered against his cheek and Puck held his breath. A hand pushed him backwards and Puck had to stand up – nearly falling over in the process. His legs were as close to jelly as they could get, floundering underneath his weight for a moment before settling out. His eyes drew up towards Shelby Corcoran and Anderson, the detective's hands waving in front of him as he spoke in a harsh whisper to the District Attorney. The brown haired woman said nothing in response, nodding towards the car and a look in her eyes daring Anderson to do something. But he shook his head, his lips moving in a definitive way that Puck was pretty sure meant "screw you" before he took off in a jog down the stairs of the court house and through the crowd. Puck lost sight of him for a moment, his attention being stolen by a tiny groan and the blonde paramedic's huff of victory and relief.

"It's okay, bud, we got you." He smoothed back Blaine's hair. Puck blinked because that was such an intimate moment... and Blaine had told him earlier that day that he didn't have a boyfriend. Maybe this guy was an ex?

Of course, the guy had just been in a pretty bad accident and all Puck could think about was whether he had lied to him about being single or not. He didn't have a one track brain at all.

"Sterling!" Detective Anderson pushed through the crowd, finally, running over to the paramedic's side, his eyes frantic and worrying and Puck had to hide back the scowl that crossed over his face. Something nagged at him, something that he couldn't exactly place. "How is he?"

"Stay back, Cooper." And the blonde paramedic – Sterling it seemed – pushed against Anderson's chest, nodding at the others as they began to lift Blaine out of the crumpled car.

"How is he?" Anderson tried again.

"He's alive." Sterling reassured, his hand on Anderson's chest and keeping him in place as the other paramedics rushed to check his vitals and figure out the injuries, one of them yelling out that they needed to get him to the hospital.

"He has a previous head injury."

"I know."

"I'm coming with you." Anderson walked at a fast pace after the stretcher and the crowd of paramedics, Sterling studying him for a moment before nodding slowly and grabbing his arm to guide him through. Camera's flashed and loud news voices called over, asking them who the person in the car was. Puck watched as horrified realization passed over the police officers' faces, one by one their features paling and their eyes widening before snapping back into place.

"Sir?" A young lady tapped his arm, holding out his phone for him. The screen was scratched and his heart picked up speed at the sight of the silver device.

"I believe you dropped this."

"Thanks." He took it with numb fingers, his eyes trailing after the young woman as she walked away, her hips swaying with each step she took. Her lips were painted pink and she looked innocent enough. But Puck couldn't help but wonder who the hell she was. Why the hell she had picked up his phone and returned it to him...

His ringtone startled him out of his thoughts. On instinct his thumb pressed the answer call button, Mike's voice coming out of the receiver louder than was necessary. Puck jumped, turning down the volume of the phone and holding the plastic up to his ear, barking out a hello. "Are you okay? It's all over the news-"

"I'm fine." Puck swallowed passed the lump in his throat at the thought that Blaine was very much not fine and it was very much his fault, whether he wanted to admit it or not. "Do you have something for me, Mike?"

The other line was silent for a moment and Puck had to wonder if he was on speaker because he was pretty sure he could hear Rachel – ever dramatic Rachel – sniffling in the background. "Yeah. I traced the number of the texts."

"Please tell me you have a name."

"I do." Mike sounded oddly proud of himself. "Get this, the phone belongs to a Detective Cooper Anderson-"

Puck's heart leaped into his throat and anger fogged his brain. "Get to Bellevue. Emergency room. Now."

Rachel and the others were waiting for him at the hospital when he pulled up. He payed no mind to Rachel's gasp at the sight of his blood stained shirt, or to Mike's rattled off questions, or to Santana's grim and frustrated face. He payed not attention to the officers standing around in the waiting room, or to the blonde paramedic, or to the fact that Quinn was pulling up a cop car, being escorted by Detective Rutherford. He didn't pay the guy that Blaine had been at breakfast with any mind either. He had eyes for only one person. And that person was pacing around the waiting room as though his life depended on it.

"Anderson!" Puck snapped, a small growl to his voice and the detective in question jumping a bit at the unexpectedness of the private investigator's presence.

Cooper Anderson's eyes were wide and a bit bloodshot, his hands were shaking, his suit shirt was untucked, and he looked, in all senses of the word, like a worried as hell family member. Which, if Puck wasn't so pissed off, he would have believed he was. "Puckerman." Anderson nodded stiffly, standing up to great Puck.

Puck didn't really have rational control over his own body, or maybe he did and he just acted because he was pissed off, but his fist drew back and snapped back forward, hitting Anderson right in the face with a loud clap. The room fell silent and Anderson snapped back up easily enough, a shocked look on his face, but an angry glint to his eyes. He made to reciprocate but Evans was suddenly between the two of them, a stern frown on his face and a warning in his eyes. "What the fuck, Puckerman!" Anderson yelled at him, his hand covering his bleeding lip.

Puck pushed Evans out of the way, ignoring the way Finn tried to grab onto his arm to hold him back, pressing his face right up close to Anderson's. "Why'd you do it?"

"Do what?" Anderson pushed against his chest and, okay, he was strong and Puck may have stumbled back quite a bit.
"You put your own fucking brother in the hospital you piece of shit!" Puck threw his phone at Anderson's head, silently a bit happy that he caught it, his eyes wide and shocked, but anger still shinning in their depths.

"What the hell are you talking about?" His voice was dangerously low, horribly soft, as was the rest of the room.

"Read the messages you sent me, asshole!" Finn grabbed at Puck's arm, pulling him back and pushing him in the corner of the waiting room. "Let me go, Hudson."

"Calm down, dude." Finn pushed against his chest, standing in front of him with that stern police officer look on his face. He really had come far, Puck noted in the back of his mind. For someone who didn't think that he could make it to be anything Finn Hudson had sure proven many people wrong. "You don't want to get thrown out."

And, no, Puck didn't want to get thrown out but he wanted fucking answers. And he wanted them now. He slumped back against the wall, his eyes never leaving Anderson's rapidly paling face as he scrolled through the messages on Puck's phone. The device fell out of his hand after a minute, clanging against the ground and his body falling back into the chair behind him. His shoulders shook in repressed tears and Puck knew a guilty man when he saw one. Anderson was certainly acting guilty...

"What's going on?" He didn't tear his eyes away from Anderson. He didn't recognize the voice but he didn't bother paying it any mind. Someone would answer the guy who had asked. Only the guy was standing directly in front of him, a frown on his face and a very stern look in his eyes and, oh, hello it was the guy Blaine had been having breakfast with before. The guy Rutherford was engaged to...

Puck didn't answer him still because the question wasn't actually being posed to him, it was being posed to Finn. Finn who looked even more lost than anyone else in the room. Finn who knew next to nothing about what was going on besides the fact that Puck had punched Anderson and Blaine was in the hospital and somehow all three incidents were related.

"You got them too..." Anderson said quietly, despair in his voice.

"What do you mean?" Puck snapped, glaring at Finn when he pushed him back against the wall.

"The messages..." Anderson picked his head up, not bothering to wipe at his cheeks, red with tears, and visibly swallowing. "I've been getting them too." He dug his own phone out of his pocket and tossed it over to Puck. "They started weeks ago."
Puck looked down at the phone in confusion, his finger automatically opening up the message folder. He furrowed his eyebrows at the familiar message format. Corner of 39th. 5pm.

Back out and she's dead.

Run.

Marathon. 10am. Be there or you know the drill.

Don't test me.

I know who matters to you most.

Leaving her doesn't change things, Cooper. Times Square, 12pm.

If you don't show up he's gone.

Puck's eyes were wide as they slowly raised to meet Anderson's, his jaw slack and his hand starting to shake. Quinn's hand was gentle on his arm and her face held a similar sheen of shock, her blonde hair pooling down her shoulders, Santana's hand gripped tightly in her own. "You too?" She whispered and Puck felt as though he were going to throw up.

"This is some kind of sick game." He looked over at Rutherford's fiance, noting how his pale face was even paler, his own hand gripping his phone tightly. Rutherford was looking down at the device in something a kin to horror.

Puck couldn't take it anymore. With a growl he was pushing out of the emergency room and sprinting towards the exit, his lungs screaming for air and space and freedom. His brain screaming at him to connect the dots because this was making absolutely no sense what so ever and there had to be some connecting point. "Wait!" He skidded to a halt, turning to face Rutherford's fiance, the pale man's eyes wide and a frown stitched across his face. "You have to know what this means."

He thrust his phone at Puck but Puck didn't take it. He didn't want to take it. He wanted off this case. "Go to a detective."

"I'm getting married to a detective. My brother's a detective. I'm going to you." The man pressed again, his voice probably the calmest and yet sharpest thing Puck had ever heard.

"There's nothing I can do."

"That's crap." The man's eyes flashed dangerously and Puck momentarily was struck by some thought that this wasn't someone he wanted to piss off. "You were dragged into this. I was dragged into this. Cooper was dragged into this. That blonde girl was dragged into this. But, most of all, Blaine was dragged into this and I am not leaving you alone until you tell me what the hell is going on."

Puck was being selfish again wasn't he? But what kind of person would he be if he wasn't a bit selfish? He wouldn't be himself, that much was for sure. "I don't know what's going on."

"Then figure it out." The man stepped closer to Puck, shoving his phone under Puck's nose. "Because I want to find this guy and punch their face in." Puck blinked at him. He didn't seem like he was the violent type. He seemed as though he were more like Rachel – pacifist through and through, taking the high road in every situation, violence solves nothing Rachel.

"And who are you to tell me what to do?" Puck asked with barely contained aggravation. Because, even if this guy was a bit not like Puck thought he was, he didn't take orders. Especially from random people.

"Kurt Hummel." The man didn't bother offering him a hand to shake, which was a good thing because Puck wouldn't have shook it.

"And why should I do what you want me to?"

"If you want to keep your private investigator's license you will find the guy who attacked my best friend and then take said best friend out on a date like you said you would." How did he know that? How did he know about that? Puck hadn't mentioned anything... But Blaine had. Vaguely he remembered that Blaine had been on the phone with someone before the accident and that was why he hadn't moved his car out onto traffic. "Understood?"

Puck blinked at him, swallowing and nodding a bit, his hand taking Kurt's offered phone and his eyes soaking up the words in front of him. McDonalds. 52nd. 7pm.

"So what now?" Kurt asked him hesitantly, all venom seemingly disappearing from his voice when it was clear Puck was going to work with him.

Puck shook his head as an answer, pushing his way back into the waiting room and grabbing Quinn's arm, nodding at Anderson to follow him. He pulled his blonde friend into the hallway, staring her in the eye and making sure his expression stayed stern and serious. "You've been getting these too?"

"For over three months." Quinn nodded in an affirmative, her lips set in a thin line.

"They threatened you with Beth?"

"And Santana."

"This has to do with the case you were working on?"

"Yes."

"Tell me everything."

"It's a long story."

Puck traded looks with Anderson and Kurt, his face in a grim line and his expression mirrored in the faces of the other two – though Anderson's eyes did hold more worry than his did, but that was to be expected. "We have until seven."

A: N – Yaaay chapter 4! Chapter five will be up probably – hopefully – this weekend. If not then next thursday or friday since the school year is waning down and I have no school those days.