Disclaimer: We don't own any part of Glee, or else we'd be chilling with the cast right now.
Warnings: This might get graphic. Mentions rape and kidnapping.
A/N: We thought of the title of this story first. Murphy's Law. Anything that can go wrong will go wrong. Doesn't that sound like a collection of fanfiction oneshots? It does to us. By the way (we'll reiterate this every chapter) if there's a particular story you want to see written (that fits the Murphy's Law thing) just drop us a line and we'll see what we can do.
Summary: Kidnapping is something that happens in books and tv shows, not in Lima Ohio. Definately not to Kurt and Blaine. Takes place season 2, when Kurt is still at Dalton.
"You're looking at Act One, Scene One, of a nightmare, one not restricted to witching hours or dark, rain swept nights." The Twilight Zone
"Kurt, will you turn that down?" Finn griped from the kitchen counter where he was honestly trying to grasp the concepts of trigonometry. After football and Glee, he had precious few nighttime hours in which to do his homework, eat, and have some semblance of a social life. And Kurt and his obsession with watching the news was killing him.
"No, wait a second," Burt said, glancing up from the stove long enough to see the story coming up. "Turn that up, Kurt. Just for a second, Finn. I need to see what they're doing about this guy."
As the volume got louder, the words became more defined. "…police now saying is the work of a serial kidnapper in northwest Ohio. Dylan Marks with the story." The female voice gave way to a serious-sounding male, and now even Finn turned in his chair to stare at the television.
"The victims so far have been all male, ranging in ages from eleven to sixteen. So far five boys have been taken, starting with one in Toledo and working down south throughout the state. Yes, it does seem that the alleged kidnapper is working his way up in ages. Yes, the last time there were two boys taken at once. Er…yes, it's hard to give advice on this situation. We're not sure if it's the work of one man. He chooses his towns randomly, his victims randomly. No pattern has emerged. We can only advise young boys to be extra vigilant and to report any suspicious activity to the police."
The next segment was the latest on a celebrity love triangle, and Kurt snapped off the television with a press of the button. "Wow," Finn said, still staring at the blank screen. "So this guy has been picking up kids all over Ohio?"
"For the past three or four weeks, yeah." Burt said, wiping his hands absently on a dish towel. He looked concerned. "You two, don't take any risks, okay? These things are just a story on a news until it happens to you."
"Why would a kidnapper come to Lima?" Kurt huffed, then put up his hands when his father rounded on him. "But we'll be careful anyway, dad. Buddy system, no dark alleyways, the whole shebang." He smiled, crossed his heart. "Scout's honor."
"Finn?" Burt rounded on the other teen, who'd turned back to his homework.
"Yeah, no risks, Burt. I promise."
The story was mostly forgotten after that, until a week later when Blaine's father called the Hummel household, asking if they knew where his son was.
The first six hours after Kurt and Blaine went missing were the worst.
In the end, the police figured out that they must have been taken between four and five, when walking from a bus stop to Kurt's house after Warbler's practice. But they weren't declared as missing until five hours later.
Burt had looked up at the clock at six when Finn stumbled in after football practice. "Shower," the teen muttered, making his way up the stairs.
"Dinner's in half an hour!" Burt called over the slam of the door. It was then that he began to wonder where Kurt was – sometimes he stayed late at Dalton, but usually he was in before six on days he was bringing Blaine home for dinner. Burt got the feeling that his son's boyfriend didn't eat a lot of home cooked meals.
By the time dinner was almost done, Finn was moving down the stairs, wincing with every step. "I got some frozen peas if you want them," Burt said, "And some hot water if you want the heat."
"Cold," Finn muttered, leaning against the counter and lifting his shirt so Burt could just see the edges of an ugly bruise.
"Hey, will you text Kurt for me?" Burt never was good at manipulating the tiny keyboard, and the speed at which Finn and his mother could text was frankly terrifying. If Carol hadn't gone to visit her sister for the week, he would have asked her. "He was supposed to be here an hour ago."
Finn grunted and slid his cell phone out of his pocket, sending off a text with one hand as he used the other to hold up the peas. "He probably just lost track of time."
"That's been happening a lot more often since he and Blaine became a 'thing.'" Burt muttered, feeling the beginnings of annoyance creep on him. "I'll have to talk to him about it."
Finn shrugged. "I wouldn't sweat it. It's his first relationship. That can be pretty crazy." He frowned at his phone. "Huh. Usually Kurt's freakishly fast at responding."
"I give up," Burt muttered, picking up the phone (this one still had a cord) and dialing his son's number. Kurt had told him that actually getting a call on a cell phone was so 2009 but what was he to do? The food was getting cold.
"He's not picking up." Burt said, and now Finn was standing up straight. This was still early in the game, though. He was looking more confused than scared.
"Wait, I've got Blaine's number in here somewhere." He didn't bother sending a text, he just dialed, tucking the tiny phone between shoulder and ear. Ten rings, fifteen, and he conceded defeat and hung up.
"Why would they both have their phones off?" Burt asked, "I thought that your guys's hearts would stop beating if you didn't have a direct line of communication."
"I'll call Mercedes." Finn volunteered.
But Mercedes hadn't talked to Kurt since the day before, and even though Santana helpfully supplied the numbers of a couple of key Warblers (how she'd gotten those numbers Finn didn't bother to find out) they didn't know much more than anyone else.
"They left in kind of a hurry." David supplied, "Something about a family dinner?"
"I don't know…must have been two hours ago."
Seven o'clock melted into eight before Finn dared to voice the same thing Burt had been thinking for hours. "You remember that story on the news a week ago?"
"They weren't kidnapped, Finn. This isn't a mystery novel."
"You said it yourself." The peas had been forsaken long ago, but Finn still winced when he pushed himself to this full height. "You said that it could happen to us."
"But I didn't think it actually would!" Burt protested. "Not to Kurt and Blaine together. That would be too conspicuous."
"Kurt can't fight to save his life." Finn said, talking fast now, unable to stop the words from spilling out of his mouth. "And Blaine isn't much better. And if they were rushing here from Dalton they would have taken the alley from the bus stop to Pearshall Street. Almost no one goes down there anymore."
"You guys shouldn't go down there, either." Burt growled, "I thought you weren't taking unnecessary risks?"
"C'mon, Burt." Finn said, "No one actually expects to be kidnapped. Like you said, it happens in mystery novels, not in real life."
"Call Mercedes again," Burt said, standing firm. "He wasn't kidnapped."
At nine, when Blaine's father called to see where his son was. At nine, after Finn had called everybody in Glee club, everybody in the Warblers, everybody he could think of at least twice. At nine, when a story about the serial kidnapper re-aired…that's when concern and frustration turned to fear.
A week went by. No one in the Glee club could concentrate on school. They spent most of their free time scouring the neighborhoods, hoping to see something, anything. Hoping for a sign. They never went in anything less than groups of three, and always a football player among them.
Blaine's father was often at the Hummel household. He was a businessman who'd raised Blaine by himself and wasn't exactly keen on the idea that his son might still be around if he wasn't off having dinner at his boyfriend's house. He was a strict man, a serious man, and he was seriously worried about his only son. They'd left things on a bad note – the whole past year had been a bad note. He couldn't imagine not being able to rectify his mistakes.
Cops and media swarmed the house. The other parents of the kidnap victims called or came by, talking obsessively about the case until it seemed like the house was heavy with the names: Billy, Christian, John, Jake, Ryan, and then Kurt and Blaine.
Finn could recite the list in his sleep. Billy was ten, had been taken from Toledo when he was walking home alone from a skate park. Christian, also ten, had been walking to a friend's house. John was twelve, had been bird watching by a secluded lake. Jake and Ryan, fourteen, were best friends on their way home from a swim meet.
What no one talked about is what might be happening to the boys. They talked in terms of dead and not dead. Finn couldn't help but think about the other things, though. The things you read about in grisly news stories. The things that happened, even if you don't talk about them.
And even though most of them weren't especially religious, the Glee club went to their respective churches each night and prayed and prayed for their friends to be alive.
It was something terrible that always happened somewhere else in the world. Now that it happened to them, it felt like a nightmare.
The police got the guy because he was stupid, because he tried to take three boys at once (he was getting greedy) and one of them had looked mild-mannered but ended up being a black belt in karate. By the time the police got to him, he had a broken nose and a fractured wrist.
He'd spilled his hideout easily enough. Partly because someone had told them they could reduce his sentence, but mostly because someone else had told him they could get him into solitary, and the guy knew what happened in prison to people who messed with kids.
Three of the seven boys were still alive. The other four had been buried in shallow graves in the back yard. One of the graves had dandelions growing on it. A police officer had thrown up in the bushes when he saw that.
Blaine cried when he saw his father. He cried until there was no noise, then no tears. He kept crying, burying himself in his father's arms. He was filthy, and naked except for the loose pants a kind officer had thought to bring in the building with him. He had a broken arm, and cuts all over his body. No one had the heart to take him away from his father. And he kept crying.
Kurt didn't cry. He was murmuring softly to Ryan even as police swarmed the house. "You have to let him go, Ry. Your parents are outside, and they'll be so happy to see you. It's okay now."
"Jake's dead!" Ryan snapped, hugging his friend's body closer. "Would everything be okay if Blaine had died?"
Kurt left then, because he was too numb, because he'd spent the last week in misery, because he needed to see that Blaine was alive and well and mostly whole.
He didn't cry when his father hugged him. He didn't cry when he saw the whole Glee club on the other side of the police tape, all with tears of joy running down their cheeks. He didn't cry when someone hugged him and pressed hard against his broken ribs.
He cried when Blaine turned around and opened his arms. He cried, because even though everything was awful, and terrible, and wrong, he still had Blaine, and they were still alive, and somehow that made everything a little bit better.
Here's what Blaine and Kurt told their parents, the Warblers, and New Directions. Here's what never got published, because they were still minors which meant HANDS OFF to the press, who never got to publish the juicy parts of the story.
After glee rehearsal, they'd gotten lattes at the café and caught the bus into the heart of Lima. At the bus stop, Blaine had kissed Kurt for thirty seconds, a minute, and someone had driven by and honked at them.
"That's not why we were taken, though." Kurt said, "None of the other boys were gay."
They'd wandered down the alley more out of habit than actual premeditated thought. They were laughing together at something one of them had said, and their laughter had echoed off the buildings. They barely noticed the car until it stopped in front of them.
"He got Kurt right away. Just grabbed his arm and stuck a knife under his neck." Blaine shivered at the memory of the drops of blood trailing from where the knife pressed too hard. "Said that if I didn't get in the car he'd kill Kurt."
"I told Blaine to run." Kurt said, touching Blaine's arm. "But of course he didn't. You're such an idiot." He kissed Blaine's fingers, the ones that weren't wrapped up in the cast. "Such an idiot."
Their audience was silent, though Burt was shaking with barely controlled rage and some of the girls were already crying. Puck, Sam, Finn, and most of the other guys there were just praying for five minutes alone with the monster who'd done this.
"Billy and Christian were already dead when he got there. That's why he took us, we think. He wanted to restock." Blaine ran a hand through his hair, looked at Kurt helplessly.
"What you think happened next happened." Kurt said listlessly. "Except that Blaine fought the guy tooth and nail, which is how Blaine broke his arm. He only took me three times, though. Blaine got in a couple of good hooks, and I don't think the guy liked having to work. So he'd just take Blaine instead. How many times?"
"I didn't count." Blaine said offhandedly, as if being raped was something you could forget that easily. He was proud of the fact that he'd saved Kurt (well, mostly, and those three times had been hell for Blaine, who would scratch at the walls and scream Kurt's name the entire time he was gone. And they'd done something the first night, because Jake and Ryan had told them in whispers what happened when one of them got taken from the tiny room, and Blaine and Kurt didn't want their first time to be with someone who didn't love them. So they did something that first night that made it so that getting raped wasn't their first time, and whenever Blaine got taken from the room he thought of Kurt.)
"He'd kill the boys if they cried. I don't think he was sane for most of it. If you cried, he just knifed you. If you were lucky, you died fast." Kurt shuddered at the thought of John, who hadn't been lucky and hadn't died fast. In the end, Kurt had put his head on his lap and he and Blaine sang and sang and when they finished the song the light had gone from the boy's eyes.
"We lived because whenever we wanted to cry we'd sing instead." Blaine said simply. But that wasn't the truth. They'd lived because they'd wanted to live. They'd lived because Kurt needed Blaine to be alive and Blaine needed Kurt, and though dying would have been easier they couldn't let the other one down.
Do ya'll get the plot of this story? There is no plot. It's a collection of unrelated, AUish one-shots that all revolve around "what would happen if the worst happened?" We might revisit the chapters in the future, we might not. It honestly depends on what you guys want. Do you like it? Hate it? Hate it so much you never want to see it again? Tell us. We know it's strange and rough and off-center. We also know that sometimes you just want to read something like this.
Or write it.