fic: Sugar Spell It Out 2/5

[notfar]

back to part one

Part Two

“Something special today,” John said. It was morning - or at least Kurt assumed it was, since Brittany had been the one locked in the cupboard under the stairs most recently, and that meant it was his turn next. John was alone this time, which was unusual. He pulled the chair out from where it had been pushed against the wall, sitting down in front of the two of them.

“We don’t usually do this,” he continued, “but the two of you are a little different. There’s two of you, to start with, and we’ve had you here a little longer than what we normally would.”

“Been a week already,” he went on, and Kurt clenched his teeth. Somehow, the confirmation of a date just made things all the more real. Seven days since they were taken. Seven days they’d been tied to the pipe. In Kurt’s case, seven days with nothing to eat and only the few mouthfuls of water they’d started allowing him after they were finished having their fun for the night. Which led to… four nights alone with the two men in the basement, with their hands and their threats, fucking his mouth til there were tears streaming down his cheeks and he was left feeling more worthless than ever before.

John smiled, noting the pained expression on Kurt’s face. “Seems longer, I know. But neither of you’ve gone crazy or passed out or nothing yet. So we’ve adjusted our plans a little. No point in stopping a good thing. And maybe you’ve noticed, the concrete floor isn’t exactly comfortable. Not for what we’ve got in mind.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Kurt, the only one keeping eye contact. Brittany was staring intently at her shoes, her hands clenched tightly behind her back. “So we’ve made a few alterations upstairs. A few home renovations. Might as well be comfortable if you’re going to be around for a while.”

He laughed coarsely. “My coffee’s getting cold. We’ll be back real soon, give you kids time to get excited.”

When John returned, maybe half an hour later, the blue-eyed man was with him. He came up beside Brittany, John coming around to Kurt’s end of the pipe. In a matter of seconds, they were both untied.

“Ups-a-daisy,” John said, pulling Kurt up by his still-bound wrists. The journey up the stairs was over quickly - probably a little too quickly for two people who’d spent a week on their knees tied to a pipe. John’s hands on his roped wrists were the only things keeping Kurt from face-planting on more than one occasion. But then they were there, standing on the wooden floorboards of a plain old farmhouse.

It was like seeing it for the first time for Kurt, and really, it almost was; too dark to make out anything more than the furniture the last time he’d been brought in. John didn’t give him too much time to look around anyway, pushing him forwards until he was stumbling into a room at the end of a hallway.

And that explained the strange banging noises they’d heard infrequently over the past few days - the windows were literally boarded up, the doorknob removed and a huge steel bolt fixed to the outside of the door.

“Home sweet home,” the blue-eyed man said. It was a bedroom, plain and simple. A double bed took up the majority of the space. Connected was what seemed to be a bathroom, the door removed.

He pushed Brittany ahead until her legs hit the edge of the bed and she had no place to go but forwards; the blue-eyed man’s hand on her back pressing down until she was folded over, face pushed into the plain blue sheet of the bed.

He held her there for a moment, his other hand settled on the skirt of her uniform, then glanced back at John, who nodded.

“You’re welcome,” the blue-eyed man said, then set about untying the thick binds of rope around Brittany’s wrists. When he was done, John pushed Kurt forwards until he was next to Brittany, mirroring her position. The still-raw skin of his wrists ached with a renewed pain as John tugged on the ropes, but then they were gone and his hands were freed.

“Rest up, you’re gonna need it,” John said. “See you tomorrow.”

Then the door slammed shut and Kurt and Brittany were alone again.

Standing up was so much harder than Kurt expected. His muscles were so stiff that even shrugging was excruciating. There was no way he’d be able to bring his elbows forward and use his hands to push himself up. He compromised, and rolled over onto his back instead.

That action in itself was exhausting and painful, and he lay there for a moment, back against the mattress and feet flat on the floor while he caught his breath. He felt Brittany do the same beside him, and he glanced across at her.

“You okay B?”

She nodded, wincing as she very slowly lifted her hand up to her face.

“My nose has been itchy forever,” she said, scratching furiously.

Kurt watched for a moment, amused despite everything, before deciding he needed to dredge up some energy from somewhere and check out their new room. The bathroom was what he was most interested in, mostly because the main room was empty except for the bed.

And also because bathrooms tended to contain sinks, and jesus christ was he thirsty.

A shower was far too much to hope for.

Slowly, slowly he sat up, and then stood up, taking a few steps and rotating his arm experimentally. Still difficult, and still insanely painful.

Brittany was still scratching her nose.

“Britt,” he called back from the doorway between the two rooms. “Something amazing has happened.”

“Is there a cheeseburger in there?” she asked.

“Better,” he replied. “A bathtub.”

The water from the faucet was cool and clean and if Kurt hadn’t lost all self-control and sense back around the Day 3 point, he would’ve thought to slow down and take small sips instead of gulping frantically at the stream of water.

Too late. The water was refreshing and amazing and totally worth the kind of sick, sloshy feeling he had in his stomach as he stood up again, turning off the tap a good five minutes later.

Like the bedroom, the bathroom had been modified. The door was gone, as was the mirror, the shower curtain, and anything the bathroom cabinet might once have contained. There was a tiny window above the toilet against the far wall. Predictably, it was boarded up as well.

“We don’t need to shower,” Brittany said, joining Kurt in the bathroom. He stopped staring at the bathtub and stared at her instead. “I mean, we used to smell bad. But I don’t think we do anymore.”

“…I think we just stopped noticing it,” Kurt replied. Things had gone past the point of rank down in the basement. “I’m going to shower.”

There were 2 towels hanging on the rack, he noticed. It made him wonder about motives, and why they’d been given this new room at all.

It made sense, in a scary way. The men planned on keeping them around for much longer, and it wouldn’t do to let them stagnate in their own filth for weeks on end. Besides, Kurt couldn’t even raise his arms above his head. They really didn’t even have to worry about him using physical force as an escape method.

Screw it, he decided. Motives didn’t matter. “I’m going to shower,” he said again. “Can you keep guard outside?”

“Sure,” Brittany nodded, stepping out of the bathroom.

He turned the cold tap of the shower experimentally. The water that poured out was clear, and didn’t smell horrible, at least. And, turning the second tap, there was even hot water.

Kurt didn’t even bother shedding his clothes, stepping straight in and letting the hot water run down his whole body. His clothes were filthy, frankly, and if they were facing days more of being locked up with no prospect of escape, he was going to do it in clean clothes if nothing else.

Even if that meant sitting around in only a towel in the time it took for his Cheerios uniform to dry.

That alone seemed risky. Kind of like temping fate or something. He just had to trust that the men really weren’t coming back for a full day like John had said. He doubted Brittany would be offended by his nakedness.

There was no soap, so Kurt used his fingers to scrub at his skin and his scalp.

When he was done, he didn’t feel clean. Not in any sense of the word. But he felt slightly better, and marginally less shaky with a stomach full of water. That was something. It had to be.

The water left his wrists stinging, and in the fluorescent light he was able to look closer at them. They were precisely as red and raw and painful as they felt, but they didn’t seem to be infected. And if that was the worst thing he could complain of after a week with the two men, he considered himself lucky. They were capable of much, much worse. But what he wouldn’t give for a toothbrush.

He wrapped the towel firmly around his hips before picking up his wet uniform, wringing the clothing out as best he could before draping them over the sink to hopefully dry.

Brittany had toed her shoes off, sitting in the middle of the bed when Kurt emerged. He smiled at her, tilting his head back towards the bathroom, and she nodded, sliding off mattress and onto her feet with more grace than anybody in their positions could be expected to possess.

Soon, she was showered too, her long hair hanging loose and wet down her shoulders and her towel sitting high across her chest, leaving a lot of leg on display.

“I’m not cold anymore,” she told him.

“Good,” Kurt said, having taken her spot on the bed. “C’mere.”

She came closer, gently pushing him back until he was flat on his back. Then she curled up around him, her head on his chest and her arm curved around his abdomen.

“I miss Santana,” she said softly, drawing a circle on the bare skin above his hip. “But I’m glad you’re here, Kurt.”

“You’ll see her soon,” Kurt said, his hand closing over hers. “And she’ll never let you out of her sight again.”

“Mmm,” she murmured, already sounding drowsy.

Kurt let her sleep, threading his fingers into her damp hair. He was a light sleeper, but he wasn’t going to risk them both being caught unaware, not when the game had been changed and they couldn’t predict what was going to happen anymore. And not when they were both practically naked.

~

The men were back the next morning, and thankfully, Kurt and Brittany’s uniforms were damp, but dry enough to wear. The men hadn’t forgotten the order of things either, John grabbing Kurt by the elbow and leading him into the bathroom. He flipped the toilet lid down, pointing to it.

“You sit there until we’re done. You stand up, move, say a single word and I’ll strangle blondie.”

Kurt nodded automatically, sitting down. John stared down at him for a long moment, then walked back into the main room.

“We’ve missed you, Barbie,” he heard the blue-eyed man said.

It was so much worse without the buzz of the generator to kill the noise.

Kurt spent the rest of the hour with his chin pressed to his chest, fingers in his ears.

It didn’t drown out everything. He was extremely grateful when they left without coming back into the bathroom, slamming the door and shifting the heavy bolt into place. Kurt was very sure that if he had to see their faces after hearing that, he’d be completely unable to hold his tongue.

But he had to. For Brittany’s sake.

He knew he had to go back in to the bedroom and make sure Brittany was okay after they left. Physically, at least, because there was no way she could’ve been okay mentally after listening to the utter filth that poured so easily from the mouths of the men.

He couldn’t, though. Not yet. He had to get his own emotions under control before he saw Brittany. Listening to them choking her throat with their cocks was so much more stomach-turning than when he was the one in her position. Kurt hadn’t realised that was possible.

He made himself stand up, turning around on the spot in an attempt to quell the rage building up inside. Something caught his eye. The window above the toilet. It was boarded up, but the boards didn’t seem as well-fixed as the ones in the bedroom. Probably because the window was so high-up and hard-to-reach; intended for ventilation rather than to provide a view. It was tiny, at the very top of the wall, a few inches below the junction between wall and ceiling.

Carefully, well aware of how weak his arms were, Kurt climbed upon the toilet seat, stepping up so he was standing on the cistern. He kept a palm flat against the adjacent wall for support, reaching up to grab the first wooden board.

It didn’t budge; three nails at each end holding it firmly down to the window frame.

“C’mon,” Kurt muttered, pulling at it again.

No movement. One hand, impaired by week in the basement, wasn’t going to be enough. Cautiously, Kurt raised his other hand away from the wall and up to the board. He wobbled a little, biting his lip. He couldn’t afford to fall down. Not only would a broken arm be hard to explain, it would also ruin what might actually be their only chance at escape.

Two hands on the board and as much strength as he could muster without toppling backwards and there was movement. He could wiggle the piece of wood in place a little, the nails squeaking almost inaudibly. He kept at it, and in a matter of minutes he could pull the board loose.

Kurt exhaled slowly, prying the board completely free. The brand new hole in the wall let a draft in, cold air breezing in against his forehead. Kurt stretched up onto the tips of his toes, straining to get his eyes high enough to see outside.

He was barely tall enough, but he did it. It was bright outside, some time in the morning just like the men had suggested. There weren’t any trees close by to the window, or any soft hedges directly below from what he could see.

Still, they were only on the ground level. A tumble out of the window would bruise, but it wouldn’t kill.

Kurt couldn’t say the same for what would happen inside the house.

This was it. Their chance. They could sneak out and be home in a matter of hours. Bruised and hungry and traumatized, but nothing some intensive therapy couldn’t fix.

All the anger inside him had disappeared; replaced with a bubbly feeling he thought might be hope.

There were three boards above the one he’d already removed. They looked like they’d come off with a similar degree of force.

This was it.

Then he heard Brittany call his name, and he hurried to replace the board, stepping down from the toilet.

“Hey B,” he said, wrapping his arms around her where she sat on the edge of the mattress.

A big - a massive, enormous, gigantic - part of him wanted desperately to just grab her and run back into the bathroom. Pull off all the wood and make their escape.

The tiny, worn-out, logical voice in his head knew better. It was daylight still, and they had no knowledge of the men’s activities during the day. If they jumped out of the window and ran into the blue-eyed man reading the paper on the front porch, they’d be screwed. They’d be worse than screwed. They’d be dead.

They had to wait til dark. They had to wait til the men weren’t paying attention. Until they were too distracted to notice something was busy.

The bubbles in his chest faded quickly as Kurt figured out what had to happen. How this was going to play out. In a matter of seconds, his mind was made up.

He had an escape plan. But first, he had to do some research.

All too soon it was evening and the men were back. Kurt’s turn. The hours had flown by; Kurt sitting up against the headboard of the bed with Brittany beside him, thinking about how he could make things work. He hadn’t told Brittany about the window yet. He wasn’t ready to, not until he had absolutely everything figured out.

The only advice he gave her, whispered in her ear as they heard the tell-tale grate of metal-on-metal on the other side of the door, was to put block out the noise.

“Don’t listen, B. Put your fingers in your ears. Hum really quietly if you have to. Just. Make sure you can’t hear.”

“Okay,” she replied.

“Promise?”

She nodded, just as the door swung open and the men came inside.

They made use of the bed, taking turns to straddle his chest; the position freeing up hands to force his jaw open. Afterwards, they peeled his shirt off, the blue-eyed man sitting over his pelvis while John kept his shoulders flat at the other end. The blue-eyed man’s hands found their way into Kurt’s pants, but it didn’t go any further than that. They laughed at his impulse reaction, whole body freezing with fear at their touch. Then they both stood up, leaving Kurt lying stiffly, his breaths shallow. They left, and Kurt forced himself to roll upright and rinse his mouth out.

That had sucked, a little more than usual. But they hadn’t gone into the bathroom afterwards. He knew what he needed to know.

Kurt waited until the middle of the next day to talk to Brittany. He couldn’t move himself to block his ears while the men had their turn with her in the morning. They made her take her top off, made her touch them, and Kurt had never hated himself more.

It was for the greater good, he reminded himself over the sick, sick feeling of guilt in his stomach. Just a little longer, and it’d all be over. And while they could’ve made their escape in the dark of the previous night, Kurt wasn’t willing to risk it. It had been pitch black outside, sure, but he hadn’t known what the men were doing. He wasn’t wasting their chance.

So, a few hours after the men had left for the morning, he took Brittany into the bathroom. He climbed back up onto the cistern, prying away all four boards.

The window was small, but not impossibly so.

“Do you think you can fit through?” he asked, and she nodded immediately.

“Yeah. Now?”

Kurt shook his head, making sure she was paying attention as he slotted the boards back into place.

“No. Tonight. When they come back, they’ll take you in here like last time. And you’re going to climb up. Quietly. Silently, okay. Take the pieces of wood off. And then you’re going to climb through.”

She nodded.

“It’ll be dark outside, but you won’t fall far. Then you need to run - there’s a dirt road leading from the house. You need to follow it, but you have to stay in the bushes. Hide behind the trees, just make sure you can see the road still. If you follow that, it’ll take you to the main road, and you can flag down a car or something.”

Brittany frowned.

“What about you?”

“I’ll come after you. The men don’t check the bathroom afterwards. If you go while they’re busy with me, they won’t see you leave. You can run, and you’ll be out of sight before they come out of the bedroom. Otherwise it’s too risky, if we both go together. I can sneak out once they go to sleep.”

She still looked hesitant, so Kurt jumped down from the toilet lid and grabbed her hands.

“B, it’ll be fine. This is our chance. You go first. Follow the road until it meets the main highway. Then you can find somewhere to hide, and wait for me.”

“You’ll come?”

He nodded. “I promise. But if something happens, you wait for me for two hours. And if I’m not there, flag a car. Get somewhere safe, and then you can send help. Tell me what you’re going to do.”

“Climb out the window, hide by the trees,” she recited obediently. “Follow the road. Wait for you for two hours. Then get help.”

“Perfect,” Kurt said, hugging her tightly. “This is it, B. We’re gonna go home.”

~

The men came back. Brittany glanced back at Kurt, slipping off the bed as John waited expectantly. Her fingers twitched, like she wanted to wave, but thankfully, her arms stayed by her sides.

Kurt watched her until she disappeared into the bathroom, John returning soon after.

“We’ve been waiting,” he said, wiping his hands on his pants like escorting Brittany ten feet had been some huge hardship. “Sit down, pretty boy. You seem like you’ve got at least something going on upstairs, so I’m going to explain this for you. You must’ve realised by now that we didn’t go to all this trouble just for a couple’a pretty mouths. Normally we’d get to the point a whole lot sooner. But you know something, they usually lose it a whole lot quicker when we do that. Couple of days and they’re banging their heads against the wall or rocking in the corner or they won’t stop screaming, and they’re no good to us anymore.

“But the two of you, we’ve been treating a little different. Toughening you up, so you last more than just a day or two. And you’re first.”

The blue-eyed man’s lips twitched. “Now, strip.”

This wasn’t part of the plan. Not even close. But he had to stay calm and hope that Brittany’d had time to get out. He could kick and scream and bite later, but not until he was sure she was free.

With a reluctance that didn’t require any acting talent whatsoever, he removed his shirt, and then his pants.

“Everything,” John said.

Kurt took his socks off.

“I hope you don’t think we’re going to have a problem removing your fancy-boy boxers,” John told him.

There was something wrong with his throat, because suddenly it was really, really hard to breathe. This was not part of the plan, not in any universe.

Run, Brittany, Kurt thought, lowering his underwear.

It hurt. It hurt more than anything he’d ever experienced before. And when the blue-eyed man finally sat back off him, lifting his hand from Kurt’s throat, he still felt like he was choking.

Then the blue-eyed man climbed off him completely, and John released his hands, coming around to take his place over Kurt.

They were talking, saying something that he couldn’t hear over the rushing in his ears and the pain. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even keep his eyes open, just wanted it to be over.

And then it was, after the blue-eyed man had come back for a second go.

They left, and for the first time in over a week, Kurt could feel himself crying. Deep, shuddery breaths, his body aching with every exhale.

He couldn’t sit up. He tried, and tried, teeth cutting into his lips as every movement sent jagged knives through him. Finally he got enough momentum up to roll off the bed, landing sprawled on the floor, and when just breathing didn’t make him want to scream, he tried getting up onto his hands and knees.

His clothes were just out of reach, only a few feet away in the same pile he’d dropped them in. He had to get to them. Had to get dressed and get out, because Brittany was waiting for him.

There was stickiness flowing down his thighs. It got worse, hurt more, with every shuffle of his knees. He got his shirt over his head. The pants were more difficult. Kurt had no idea how he was going to stand, much less climb out a window and run miles down the dirt road.

The bolt on the other side of the door shifted just as Kurt was shoving his feet into the legs of the pants and he swallowed back the sob trying to escape.

The door started to open.

Kurt wasn’t going anywhere.

~

It really wasn’t Finn’s fault he fell asleep. Really. It was his homework. Geography was the most boring subject in the world. It was no wonder it only took half a page to put him to sleep.

He woke up with a start, face-down in a puddle of drool. That was kind of gross. He wiped his mouth, the LED-display of his clock-radio catching his eye. It was eleven o’clock, which was okay - he totally had time to play some Halo before he had to go to bed for real. Then his stomach lurched and he realised he promised Kurt he would pick him up from cheerleading practice. Practice normally finished at 8:30pm, maybe 9pm if Coach Sylvester was in an especially bad mood. Kurt was going to be so pissed at him.

Finn upended his bookbag onto the floor, searching through the mess for his phone. He almost didn’t want to know how many missed calls from Kurt he’d have. There would probably be a whole lot. Finn was a heavy sleeper.

He sighed with relief when he finally found it, the display announcing he had 2 missed calls and 1 new text. Both the calls were from Rachel. The text was from Kurt, telling Finn he was getting a lift home.

Thank god. Kurt was scary when he was angry. And now, with the guilt gone, Finn felt kind of hungry. The message from Kurt had been sent over an hour ago, so maybe he’d had time to cook something for dinner, and there’d be leftovers in the fridge.

Kurt didn’t usually eat after Cheerios practice, just drank whatever he kept in his bright red waterbottle, but still. It was definitely worth checking. Kurt was an awesome cook.

Sadly, the fridge was just as empty as it had been the last time Finn checked it. Burt and his mom were out at a movie, and they were going to bring home some groceries afterwards.

He decided to head downstairs and see what Kurt was doing. Usually, he just had to mention pizza rolls and nacho cheese and Kurt would sigh very loudly and march him up to the kitchen and fix him up something healthy.

The lights were off in the basement. Finn stomped down the stairs so he wouldn’t take Kurt by surprise if he was watching a movie or something.

But it was quiet.

“Kurt?”

No answer, so Finn flicked the lights on. Kurt wasn’t there. His fancy leather book bag wasn’t hanging on its hook.

Weird.

Finn dug his phone out of his pocket and called Kurt. It wasn’t very nice if Kurt was spending the night with Mercedes and Quinn without at least asking Finn to cover for him.

The call failed, going straight through to message. The same thing happened when he tried again.

This really was weird. Maybe cheerleading practice was going really late. He called Mercedes to check.

She laughed at him. “I haven’t been on the team in months. I have better things to do in my free time. Like watch Vampire Diaries, and text my so-called best friend who never texts me back. When you see him, tell him I’m gonna kick his ass for bailing on me just to hang out with Brittany and Santana. Seriously. That boy makes some questionable decisions sometimes, but missing our Vampire nights is not on.”

“Okay. I’ll pass that on,” Finn said, a little disturbed. He hung up.

Kurt still hadn’t appeared. Finn checked the bathroom just to make sure. He had a few options. He could call Brittany. He could call Santana. He could keep calling Kurt’s phone until he answered. Or he could wait and talk to Kurt’s dad.

The last one was the most appealing, really. Although Burt was kind of scary, and he’d probably be really mad if he found out Finn lost Kurt.

Santana was even more terrifying.

He called Brittany.

“What do you want Hudson?” It was Santana’s voice on the other end, and Finn definitely didn’t shriek and drop the phone. He did have to double-check and make sure he hadn’t dialled her by mistake. B and S weren’t even close in the alphabet.

“Santana?”

“Yeah, what do you want?”

“Do you know where Kurt is?”

“Sylvester kept him and Brittany back after practice,” she answered.

“Oh,” he said. “Are they still there?”

“I don’t know everything, Finn. Maybe you should try calling him.”

She hung up before Finn could tell her he already had. Maybe Kurt would pick up this time.

“Finn, Kurt?”

Uh oh. Finn jammed his phone back into his pants. Kurt’s dad was home.

“Boys?”

That was his mother’s voice, which kind of made sense. He walked up the stairs.

“Finn, honey,” his mother smiled. “You mind helping with the groceries? Kurt with you?”

“Uh… no,” he said. “Kurt’s not home yet. And he sent me a message, but Santana’s answering Brittany’s phone and Mercedes only wanted to talk about vampires and now I don’t really know where Kurt is.”

Burt eyed him. “You want to say that again? Maybe slower?”

Finn nodded, and explained it all again.

“So Kurt sent you a message an hour ago, saying he’d be home in twenty minutes,” Burt repeated, and Finn handed over his phone as proof. “But he’s not home, and he’s not with Mercedes.”

“He was staying back to practice with Brittany,” Finn said. “But I’m pretty sure they broke up.”

Burt shook his head, dialling Kurt on the home phone and frowning when it went to message. “He’s usually pretty reliable about these things. Give him another twenty minutes, and then we’ll hunt him down.”

“Okay,” Finn said, and headed out to grab the rest of the groceries.

Twenty minutes passed with no sign of Kurt. Burt didn’t seem too concerned, so Finn thought if Burt wasn’t worried, he probably didn’t need to be. He just kind of wished Kurt would come home already so he could borrow his geography homework. Finn had tried, he really had, but he was getting desperate, and he had geography second period on Thursdays.

Burt grabbed his car keys, gesturing for Finn to follow. “We’re just going to drive by the school,” he called out to Carole. “Make sure that crazy coach isn’t holding them hostage there.”

“Bye boys,” she called back, loading up the refrigerator.

The school was completely dark. The gymnasium lights were off, car park empty. It definitely didn’t seem like Kurt was there.

“Call Kurt’s cheerleading friends again,” Burt said, pulling out his own phone to call Carole and see if Kurt’d come back in the meantime.

Finn’s finger shook a little as he scrolled down to Santana’s name.

“What?” she answered this time.

“Uh. Is Brittany back yet? We can’t get on to Kurt.”

He could feel her roll her eyes through the phone. “She doesn’t live with me, so how the hell would I know?”

“You could call her?”

“Remember ten minutes ago when you called her and I answered? She left her phone in my bag, dumbass. And I’m sure as hell not calling her home when it’s practically midnight.”

“Please?” Finn tried, wondering if the word had any power to Santana. “Just. Make sure she’s home? And if she knows where Kurt is?”

“Fine,” Santana sighed, and hung up.

Finn sat back, waiting for her to call back. His phone rang after a few minutes.

“Brittany’s not home,” she said. “Never came back from practice. Never called her sister to pick her up. Her mom’s freaking out. What the hell is going on? Coach Sylvester kicked all of us out at nine. She made Kurt and Britt stay back to run the number another ten times, but that should’ve only taken an hour.”

Finn looked to Burt for help.

“Call me when something happens,” Santana ordered, hanging up.

“What are you thinking?” Finn asked Burt.

“Kurt’s not the disappearing type,” Burt said slowly. “When he says he’s coming home in twenty minutes, he’s home in twenty minutes. I think this is when we go to the police.”

~

By 1am, a group had gathered in the kitchen of Brittany’s house. Finn was there with Burt, his mother staying back at the house just in case Kurt came home. Both Brittany’s parents were huddled together next to the fridge, Brittany’s sister beside them. Two police officers stood in between the two groups. And on the other side, in a bright blue tracksuit, one Sue Sylvester.

She looked so angry that Finn almost hoped something bad had happened, just so Kurt would have an excuse when she inevitably found him and punished the hell out of him for getting her out of bed. Then Finn realised how terrible a thought that was. Kurt could deal with a year of detention. Finn just wanted him to come back already.

The police officers were talking to Burt and Coach Sylvester mostly. They were holding his phone, the last text from Kurt on the screen. Absently, Finn remembered the calls from Rachel. It was too late now, but she was going to be really mad at him for not calling her back.

“Of course I know when they left the gymnasium,” Sue snapped at the closest officer. “What kind of coach would I be if I didn’t have eyes everywhere at all times? Ladyface and Brittany left at eleven minutes past ten. Exactly thirteen minutes before Rocky in the corner there got that text message, strangely enough. They dropped a beat in the second verse of their eighth run-through, but I was going to let that slide.”

“I thought you said you left at nine o’clock,” the female officer said.

Coach Sylvester rolled her eyes. “I have a buddy at NASA. Saved his life back in the forces and he owes me. I have video footage beamed from my spy-camera to my iPhone. Via satellite. Nobody skimps off practice without appropriate retribution.”

She was kind of terrifying, Finn thought, grateful for Coach Tanaka’s slightly more lax methods of teaching. Well, if sitting on the bench chowing down on a triple-decker burger counted as teaching. It wasn’t like the McKinley sports teams had been doing any worse since he gave up actively coaching them.

The police officer was saying something about surveillance cameras and passing patrols of the parking lot. Coach Sylvester was making a lot of exaggerated facial expressions.

Finn turned around to find out what Burt was doing.

He was talking to the other officer. The male one. Burt was doing the shouty-grumpy voice he usually saved for Kurt when he maxed out his credit card, or Finn when he accidentally broke two windows in one afternoon tossing a football with Puck.

“I don’t give a damn about protocol, get your amber alerts and your news reports and your SWAT teams out here and find these kids!” When he spoke like that, Burt could give Coach Sylvester a run for her money. The police officer looked pretty scared.

Finn had watched a bunch of cop-TV shows with Kurt over the summer when there was nothing else to do and everyone else was off at camp or on vacation with their families. He usually wound up falling asleep halfway through, but from what he could remember, the police people usually had to wait 24 hours or 48 hours or something before they’d go chasing after someone who was missing.

That seemed kind of dumb to Finn. Hopefully they wouldn’t do the same thing for Kurt and Brittany. Maybe it was different for kids - although Kurt was more like an adult than a child, really. A short adult, sorta. Or maybe the police would just look for them straight away because Burt was so scary, and Coach Sylvester was angry about missing her beauty sleep.

Burt’s hand closed around Finn’s elbow, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“I’m going to call your mom,” he said. “Fill her in on what’s happening. We’ve got to file a report before they can do anything, so I’ll stay here and do that. They’re going to send some people back to the school to have a better look, and call in their technician person to try and track Kurt’s phone. You need me to drive you home? Or I could get one of the officers to?”

“No,” Finn said, shaking his head violently. “I want to stay. Maybe I can help.”

“Okay, kiddo.” Burt squeezed his arm again, then sighed, picking up his phone.

~

Will Schuester was having a good day. His car had started on the first try, and he was actually going to be early for work, which meant he had time to chat with Emma. Plus, he was wearing his lucky tie. Things were going great.

And then he pulled into the parking lot and saw the two patrol cars parked at the very front of the school. Figgins was standing with the police officers next to them. Sue was there too. She looked pissed.

He sighed. Another case of vandalism meant another mandatory school assembly that even he had to attend. Those things really cut into his paper-marking time.

He decided he didn’t want to know. Sue and Figgins could handle it, and he had to hit the copy machine before Glee met for the morning. He tried sneaking past, taking the farthest path possible past them to get through the front doors, but Figgins saw him, waving him over.

“Staff meeting in five minutes, Schue,” he said. He was frowning a whole lot. Will nodded, continuing on his way. That was... unusual. Staff meetings were even rarer than points at a McKinley football game. He stowed his curiosity away for the moment, making his way down the hall to the staff lounge. At least he could still talk to Emma there.

Figgins’ face was grim when he joined the waiting cluster of teachers in the lounge. Sue looked downright furious.

“There has been an… incident,” Figgins began, after waiting an appropriate length of time for silence. “Perhaps you heard about it on the radio this morning. It appears two of our students were taken from school grounds yesterday evening.”

There was a collective gasp from the staff present.

Wednesday nights were when the Cheerios met. Will knew, because Santana, Brittany and Kurt always had to run off from Glee practice a few minutes early so they wouldn’t keep Sue waiting.

“Who were they?” Emma asked from beside him, her clasped hands held against her chest.

Sue’s expression turned even stormier.

Figgins sighed. “A male and a female student are missing. Kurt Hummel and Brittany… uh. Brittany the blonde Cheerio.”

“My Brittany,” Sue growled, just in case anybody needed further clarification. “My best Cheerio and my star performer. This is sabotage. Someone will pay for this.”

“The police are investigating…” Figgins continued, but Will had already tuned out. Brittany and Kurt were missing. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be true. They lived in Lima. It wasn’t the kind of place where kids just got abducted. Not two good, sensible kids like Kurt and Brittany. Well, two good kids, one of them sensible.

Sue was glaring at him. Will pulled himself out of his head and tried to tune back in.

“…with any information on their whereabouts should be directed to myself or the police presence as soon as possible,” Figgins was saying. “In the meantime, class must continue as usual. As little disruption as possible. We don’t need to cause unnecessary panic.”

“Screw you, Figgins,” Sue spat. “Someone is stealing my Cheerios from under my nose and I will cause as much disruption as I see fit until they are returned to me.”

With that, she left, blazing through the door and out into the hallway.

Will sighed, rubbing his temples. This was unreal. He had absolutely no idea how he was going to break the news to the Glee club.

He was going to have to figure it out pretty quickly. The bell rang, and he stood up. Mercedes was going to be heartbroken. Quinn too, and Santana, although, like Sue, she was more likely be furious. Finn would be distraught, if he even showed up at school.

One thing was for sure - they weren’t going to get any work done on their numbers for invitationals.

Will shouldered his bag again, walking down the hall.

The kids would already be in the choir room by now. He took a deep breath, trying to steel himself for what was coming.

Then he pushed open the door.

The group gathered in the choir room was noticeably smaller; a third of the club missing. Rachel looked particularly put out, Finn absent from the chair next to her.

“None of the Cheerios are here,” she announced, seeing Will enter the room. “I suspect this is another one of Ms Sylvester’s ploys to destroy the club.”

“Wait a second, girl,” Mercedes said, shaking her head. “You’re so quick with these assumptions. Wonder Boy’s not here either. You think Finn’s in on this plan as well?”

“Of course not,” Rachel said briskly. “I’m sure Finn’s just running late.”

“Finn and Kurt ride here together,” Mercedes replied. “You want to maybe rethink what you’re saying before you go accusing my friends of being traitors?”

“Guys, guys,” Will cut in, hands in the air before Rachel could say anything more or Mercedes could start threatening violence. “Sit down, all of you. I’ve got to talk to you about something.”

“But everyone’s not here yet,” Tina pointed out.

“I know,” Will said, pulling up a chair as well. “That’s what I need to talk to you guys about. It’ll be all over the school by lunchtime, but I figured you all deserved to hear it first." He took a deep breath. "Brittany and Kurt are missing. They disappeared after Cheerios practice last night. The police think they were abducted.”

The reaction in the choir room was similar to what happened in the staff lounge. There was a gasp, and a moment of tense silence, and then suddenly everyone was talking, shouting, staring at him in disbelief.

“No way. No no no.” Mercedes was clutching Quinn’s hand.

“What the hell, Mr Schue,” Puck called from the back row. “That’s a pretty messed up thing to joke about.”

“It’s not a joke, Puck,” Will said, holding up his hands again to quieten them. “I really don’t know much more than that. I just found out myself. There’s nothing we can do but wait for more information.”

At that, the room fell into an uneasy silence. It lasted several seconds, and then Rachel popped up from her chair, striding towards the whiteboard.

“Well, we can’t just sit here and do nothing,” she told them, seizing a marker. “We need to brainstorm! I’m sure if we put our heads together we can solve this mystery. Now, who would kidnap Kurt and Brittany?”

Almost in synchrony, Mercedes and Tina burst into tears.

Artie pulled Tina towards him. Quinn did the same, shooting a glare at Will over Mercedes’ shoulder.

He stood up. “Rachel, slow down.” He took the pen from her hand, guiding her back to her seat. “This is a lot to take in, I know. We’ve just got to trust that the police will do their job and bring Brittany and Kurt back as soon as possible. And until then, you guys have to look out for each other. Can you do that?”

They all nodded.

“Mr Schue is right,” Rachel said. She remained in her chair this time, hands folded in her lap. “We’re a team. We need to stick together. And - oh my god, I have to call Finn and find out how he's coping.”

“I’ll check up on Santana,” Quinn added, pulling her phone from her pocket.

The bell rang, and everyone stood up.

“They’ll be okay, guys,” Will said, watching his kids file out.

Nobody responded.

The story broke by third period, and Mercedes watched Puck earn himself a week’s worth of detention punching Jacob Ben Israel right in the face.

Quinn stayed by her side the entire day, and for that, Mercedes was very grateful. It didn’t feel real. Nothing felt real. She ate lunch with the rest of the glee club; Puck, Mike and Matt even joining, but she couldn’t taste her sandwich.

“It’s just. It’s not right,” she told Quinn. They were sitting behind the stacks in the library. Quinn had dragged her away after the silence became too much to take. “We’re going to class and eating lunch like nothing’s going on. Like Kurt’s just home sick with a cold, or a really big zit or something. We live in Lima. Nothing happens here. You and me and Kurt spent the whole of summer complaining how nothing happens in Lima. And now somebody’s taken him? What are they going to him? I just - I don’t understand!”

And then she was crying again, face pressed into Quinn’s shoulder as Quinn pulled her into a hug again. Kurt always liked to talk about how difficult it was to look attractive while crying, and here she was, losing it in the middle of the McKinley school library. She was getting tears all over Quinn’s dress, the pretty lacy one that Kurt picked out and…

“Oh my god,” she sobbed.

“I know,” Quinn said softly, holding her tight. “I know. C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

They ended up at Mercedes’ place, and Mercedes had never been so glad to see her mom. She clung to her, still crying, and let Quinn explain what was going on. Quinn had long since moved back in with her own mother, but Mercedes’ mom still loved her like a daughter.

“Oh. Oh my,” Mrs Jones said, and any question of why they were skipping school fell forgotten. “We better sit down.”

~

At some stage throughout the night, Finn remembered that he needed to call Santana. He’d lost track of his own phone after even more cops arrived, so he asked Brittany’s big sister. She pointed to a piece of paper stuck on the fridge. It read Santana and then a number, held up with a magnet shaped like an ear of corn.

“Britt always forgets,” her sister said with a teary smile. “We probably should just put it on speed-dial by now, y’know.”

“Yeah,” Finn nodded. “Thanks.”

Santana showed up fifteen minutes later. She walked into the house without knocking, and Finn almost didn’t recognise her with her hair loose, dressed in jeans and a jacket.

“Any news?” she asked Finn, sitting down beside him at the counter after hugging Brittany’s sister longer than Finn had ever seen her hug anyone.

“Not since I called you,” he answered.

“Okay.”

They sat there in silence for another hour.

Finn’s mom showed up at some point, kissing Finn on the temple and honing in on Burt. Then she put a pot of coffee on, and spent a lot of time holding hands with Brittany’s mother and talking in a hushed voice.

Finally Burt came over, clearing his throat. He felt Santana jump, startled beside him.

“Your mom’s going to take you back to the house for a while,” Burt said.

“You need to get some rest,” his mom added, her arm around Burt's waist. “Burt’ll call if there’s any news.”

“Okay,” Finn said, and slid off the stool. Santana stayed where she was, staring at her fists, and Finn wanted to tell her something comforting. Say goodbye, at least.

He couldn’t find any words in his mouth. Instead, he patted her on the back, kind of awkwardly, and followed his mother out of the room.

He was tired, but he couldn’t imagine getting any sleep.

“Mom, do you think Kurt’s okay?” he asked as their car pulled into the drive.

His mother sighed, turning off the car and looking him right in the eyes. She reached over, taking his hand. “I hope so, Honey. Finn, I know you and I have never been very religious. But we’re going to pray. We’re going to pray, and Kurt’s going to be okay.”

That rhymed, but Finn couldn’t find the energy or the desire to point that out.

“Right," he said, and followed his mom into the house.

~

The invitational was cancelled indefinitely. Nobody wanted to stand up and sing when the choir group was short two members. Nobody wanted to sing, period. Somehow, glee club had turned into a support group, hanging out together almost every day after school.

The police had no leads. They wouldn’t admit it, but they had no leads. Quinn had made the mistake of looking up missing-person statistics online, back in the first few days after Kurt and Brittany went missing. The chances of being found dropped radically with every passing day. The chances of something really, really bad happening increased exponentially. Kurt and Britt had been gone almost two weeks, and, although nobody would ever say it aloud, belief that they’d be found at all, let alone alive, was fading just as quickly.

Quinn kept the statistics to herself. Mercedes needed her. Santana needed her. And she needed the whole glee club.

Almost every afternoon, Mr Schue would straddle a chair, sitting amongst the group, and ask them all how they were feeling, staring with a big, earnest expression on his face. He wanted them to spill their souls, sing how they were feeling, but nobody wanted to sing. Nobody was prepared to stand up and open themselves up when they were barely keeping it together as it was. And singing as a group was out of the question. They couldn’t practice one of their old pieces, not with two voices missing. Trying something new as a group of ten just felt like betrayal.

Instead, they sat together in silence, closer than ever, and with more hugging and teary eyes and chair-kicking than the choir room had seen in all of their first year as a group. They all felt the same misery and terror and irrational anger. Everybody was falling apart at the same rate. Some people were just more obvious about it.

Finn and Santana had both returned to school after the weekend had passed with no new leads, no development, no news, nothing. Santana was bitchier than ever, snapping at everybody for the smallest thing, but Quinn's time with the Cheerios, in close, constant contact with Coach Sylvester had given her a certain immunity. She thought that she and Puck were probably the only ones who could see through the spiky front Santana was putting up.

Santana was terrified. She was hurting, and she was lashing out. Her best friend was gone, leaving her alone to deal with the fallout, and she didn’t know how to deal with it.

Nobody did. Mercedes and Tina were teary-eyed almost constantly. Rachel too, once the gravity of the situation set in. Something that couldn’t be solved through song. She spent every moment by Finn’s side, baking him sugar cookies and making sure he was still eating and sleeping.

Finn had a haunted look in his eyes that hadn’t disappeared since he returned to school. Quinn couldn’t imagine what it would be like, living in the same house as Kurt’s dad. Kurt’s things everywhere. Waiting by the phone for news.

But outside of the choir room - and the Cheerios squad, because Coach Sylvester had never been this riled up ever - things were mostly the same. There was an increased police presence at the school, sure, but after the first few days of shock and conspiracy theories whispered in every hallway, things had settled considerably.

Police and detectives and forensic teams had been brought in from all over the state and beyond, and newspapers and TV stations were still running the story, but these days it was less breaking news and more ... in other news, the search is still on for the two missing teenagers who disappeared last week. Police are appealing for information from the public on their whereabouts…

It was almost like everybody had accepted that Kurt and Brittany weren’t coming back. Everybody except the glee club, but to them, it was an ache that got worse with each passing day.

And then, two weeks after they went missing, Brittany was found wandering down the middle of a road in the middle of nowhere, dazed, hypothermic and still wearing her uniform.

And things exploded.

part three