Two Years Later
Summary: Two years ago Kurt's boyfriend was kidnapped and supposedly murdered. Two years ago Blaine was ripped away and brainwashed into believing his captor loved him. Its two years later and they've been reunited, but it's not everything they imagined it would be.
Disclaimer: This disclaimer applies to all chapters of this story. I, most certainly and unfortunately, do not own Glee or anything affiliated.
Warning: There will be violence in this story and like some of my previous works it will have mentions of non-con. However it is rated T (not M) and therefore none of the non-con mentions will be graphic and swearing will be kept to a minimal as per the site's guidelines.
A/N: Another product of my dark mind, I started writing this before Season 3 started and therefore it takes place before the school year starts and nothing that happened in Season 3, happens in this story. Everything canon that happened in Seasons 1 & 2 however, still applies. Also note that this story (and its chapters) will not be nearly as long as Fallout.
Also the family I've written for Blaine is pretty much identical, although I've added another member or two, to how it is in my one-shot "Now You Know" (and therefore vastly different from the family written for him in "Fallout". You will be introduced to Leo Anderson, Joey Anderson, Brianna Anderson and Bianca Anderson sometime during this story.
Dates in Italics are in the past focussing on Blaine.
Dates in Bold are in the past focussing on Kurt (not in this chapter).
Dates in regular text are scenes from the main Klaine part of the story.
Chapter 1: Zero Tolerance
Blaine stood outside the restaurant and plucked his phone from his pocket with a sigh, before dialling his brother's phone number.
His parents had insisted he get a proper summer job, to teach him work ethic. Well if that was their intention, it'd worked. He'd been forced to stay late at work yet again because it was busy, one of the other waiters had called in sick and he'd been too polite to say no. He'd also managed to just miss the last bus.
Unfortunately for him his gig at Six Flags hadn't quite panned out, although working locally had allowed him to spend more time with Kurt. It just sucked that he ended up being a waiter at a singing restaurant of all places. Well, at least it was over now.
The other end of the phone picked up and he heard distant laughing over the line, before his brother's deep voice came over the phone in an abrupt yet amused voice (his brother's favourite tone), "Why are you bothering me Blainers?"
"You have my car, again," Blaine reminded him through the tinny phone. "I missed the bus and need a ride home from work, so you need to come get me."
"No can do Blainers," Joey's voice teased him, "I'm much, much too busy playing video games to do that. This is my vacation," his brother stretched out the word, "so I'm not going to spend it being your chauffeur. You understand. Walk, it'll be good for you." He heard chuckling on the other end and found his nerves starting to fray at his older brother.
"No I don't understand," he growled into the phone, "It's late. It's getting dark and it'll take me at least thirty minutes to walk home-"
"Aww Blainers is afraid of the dark," Joey made a mock 'awing' sound at him through the phone. "Does ickle Blainers need his big brother to pick him up so he doesn't get scared-ed?"
"Shut up Joey," Blaine snarled at him impatiently. "Just come get me. It's my car after all."
"Don't get so pissy," Joey muttered at him, and he heard laughing again. "Call your boyfriend. I bet he's dying to give you a ride."
More raucous laughter came at the innuendo and Blaine felt his chest tighten. He knew Joey didn't really have a problem with him being gay, but those comments always got to him. Joey didn't know it because he'd never, ever admit it, but they hurt. "You know what Joey, screw you. You're an asshole and a shitty brother."
"Aw Blainers don't get mad-" he hung up the phone before his brother could finish and let out a growl. He dug into his pockets and let out a sigh. He definitely didn't make enough in tips to get a cab home and he'd long ago learned to never bring money in with him to work. It would just get stolen by the end of his shift.
Hell today someone had stolen the lunch he packed since the restaurant refused to give out any free food at all. He took relief in that fact that today had been his last day and he didn't have to go in anymore.
He'd somehow managed to convince his parents that he needed a least a couple weeks of real vacation time.
He shook his head and started walking. He would have called Kurt, except it was Friday and it was the Hummel-Hudson family dinner night. Something told him Kurt wouldn't be too pleased with him if he called him just for a ride home.
His boyfriend took those dinners seriously. He didn't blame him either once Kurt had explained the last time he planned to miss a family dinner his father had a heart attack.
Blaine shot a look towards the fading sun and let out a sigh as he trudged down the sidewalk in his work clothes. At least the walk would give him time to think. He'd been doing a lot of that lately, thinking; especially since Kurt was continually trying to convince him to transfer to McKinley for his junior year.
He'd made the decision weeks ago really, before Kurt had even brought it up. He was going to transfer to William McKinley High, a public school with a harassment policy that wasn't exactly enforced, from his highly rated private school, Dalton, which had a zero-tolerance policy. He was going to do it. He wasn't going to run away from it anymore. Dalton wasn't the real world and he figured it was about time he joined it.
The real world unfortunately didn't have a zero-tolerance harassment tolerance. It was about time he got used to it.
The only reason he hadn't told anyone about his decision yet, other than his sister, was because he wanted to surprise Kurt. He couldn't wait to see the look on the other boy's face when he strode into the public school to meet him. The very thought made his chest swell in excitement.
There was anxiety too however. He remembered how things had been in his old school, Elida High and how the people at McKinley were somewhat homophobic. He definitely remembered what had happened to Kurt during their prom.
There was also his sister. She was small and shy and totally against going to a private high school, or Elida for that matter, and was therefore destined to join McKinley too; because of him. She wanted to be closed to him, not that he minded.
Brianna was pretty much his best friend, which almost made up for his shitty relationship with his brother.
He bit down on his lip as he slipped between two buildings into the alley (a shortcut he usually only hazarded during daylight hours) several blocks from his house. Being at McKinley was going to take some getting used to, but he knew Kurt and the New Directions would do their best to make his (and hopefully his sister's too) transition as easy as possible.
He stuck his hands in his pocket as he stepped down the alley, his eyes flittering around for safety. It was pretty dark and he listened intently. One could never be too careful. He'd learned that hard way at Elida.
His stomach churned slightly and he frowned, sending his tongue over his lips nervously. He was starting to wish he'd been a little more insistent when he called his brother for a ride home.
Stupid Joey had to leave his car in stupid California and take his whenever he wanted during the summer. It was getting a little ridiculous, especially since the other boy wouldn't even give him a ride home when he had his car.
So now he was here, in this dark alley way while his eyes darted around carefully. He hadn't heard or seen anything, but for some reason he felt his muscles tense up despite himself. Something's wrong, the little voice in his head told him as the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He fought the voice, keeping his pace as calm and steady as possible. So far nothing had made him think anything was wrong. He was just overreacting at being in an unfamiliar place in a dark alley.
That's when he heard the quiet footsteps. He froze for a moment, listening, trying to figure out where they were coming from. He started walking again when the footsteps behind him stopped and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, hunching his shoulders.
As soon as he started moving again, the footsteps started back up.
You should have listened to me, the voice in his head mocked him; you better get moving.
He quickened his pace slightly after a quick glance over his shoulder. Nothing was there that he could see, but he didn't slow down. There was no such thing as being too careful.
There was such a thing as not being careful enough. A hand gripped his shoulder suddenly and whipped him around before shoving him back against the brick wall of one of the buildings. "Hey!" He shouted, earning him a swift backhand to the side of his face that knocked his head back into the brick wall of the alleyway.
Pain stung at his cheek and rocketed through his skull, and he pressed himself against the wall in a vain attempt to make himself invisible. His fists clenched tightly as he waited for the right moment to strike out and make his escape.
If this was some kind of homophobe he wasn't going just to sit back and take it.
A hand curled into the fabric of his shirt near the shoulder and held him firmly in place. "Shut up kid," a growling voice ordered him roughly and suddenly something cool and hard was pushed up under his chin.
His entire body froze as his eyes moved down to take a look at the object pressing into his tender flesh. He could just make out part of the outline of a black gun; some kind of pistol that was pressed painfully against him, twisting his skin. His fists unclenched, the fight draining from him as slowly and carefully he brought his eyes up to the man's covered face. There was a baklava covering everything but the man's mouth and light coloured eyes.
This definitely didn't feel like a random homophobe wanting to beat him up in an alleyway. It felt darker and somehow more violent; most likely due to knowing what that gun could do to him right now as it held his jaw painfully shut.
The man stared at him hard for a moment, as if thinking of what to do with him, before the hand on his shoulder pulled him away from the wall again and pushed him forward before gripping the back of his neck tightly. "Come on, let's go."
He stumbled. "Where are-"
He was cut off as the gun jabbed into the small of his back followed by a curt, "I said shut up. Move it."
He could hear faint sirens in the distance as the man's hand on his neck gripped harder. The man pushed him out the other side of the alley towards an old rusted grey car that was parked on the side of the road. He was slammed hard against it as he heard the door being yanked open.
Without a moment's warning he was shoved inside. He fell onto his stomach onto the beige leather seating and felt something land with a light thump onto his back. He scrambled into a sitting position as the door slammed and the dark green backpack that had been thrown in on him slipped to the car's floor.
His first instinct was to grab for the door handle, but it wouldn't budge. He threw himself towards the other side and tried again, but the door was unrelenting no matter how much he tried to get it open. Child safety locks had never seemed more unsafe to him before as they did at that moment.
'Stupid Joey for taking his stupid car', he cursed inwardly, 'Stupid me for not calling Kurt for a ride.' His breathing turned shallow and he twisted his neck to let his eyes watch the man who was kidnapping him.
Heart pounding he watched in silence as the front door of the car opened and the man scrambled inside before closing the door and starting the car. The man pulled out so quickly he was thrown back and to the side. His hands were shaking badly, but something told him it would be a good idea to buckle his seatbelt. He did so, despite that it took him several tries to secure the buckle due to the extent of his trembling.
Cursing internally wasn't getting anywhere so he ventured to speak up softly, "E-excuse me-"
"Didn't I tell you to shut up kid?" The man asked with a growl, his eyes flickering to the rear window to look at him.
"Please," he whispered, pushing his hands into his thighs nervously, "I'm sorry. I just- I just want to know what's going on and- and go home."
"Well you're not going home, that's for sure," the man snapped at him, pulling a sharp turn. "But I'll tell you what's what if you promise to shut up."
He nodded his head quickly, opening his mouth only to whisper quietly, "I promise."
He saw the man's eyes flicker to look at him through the rear view mirror before explaining in a low, rough voice, "I need a hostage and you were at the wrong place at the wrong time. Now shut your face before I decide to shut it for you." The man's voice became somewhat calmer, "Look, if you do what I tell you, I'll let you go once I don't need you anymore, understand?"
He nodded his head cautiously, not vocalizing this time in fear of angering the guy anymore and willing himself to believe the man was telling the truth.
He took a few deep breaths and used his hands to clutch his knees tightly. He sincerely hoped this man didn't need a hostage for long. He didn't know how long his heart could keep beating at such an accelerated pace before it gave out.
Yeah, the world definitely didn't have a zero-tolerance harassment policy. Apparently it didn't have a zero-tolerance kidnapping policy either- at least not one that was enforced.
Blaine bumped into the man purposefully, his fingers acting nimbly and undetected, before apologizing profusely with a small smile on his face. Almost immediately he went on his way, before turning a corner and walking straight into Pierre. He lowered his head submissively and immediately held out the wallet.
"Pickpocketing still are we, Blainey?" Pierre asked him with a soft laugh. "When will you ever learn that that is the weak man's way of making money? You're supposed to move up to bigger and better things." He cuffed the nineteen year old boy over the head.
Blaine kept his head down, not mentioning that Pierre had screwed up the ransom drop two years before. He never dared to mention it. He valued his life too much for that. "I'm sorry," he mumbled softly, "I-I just can't hurt anyone. Besides it's pretty much the same profit as mugging someone- it's just, less scary for them, right?"
"That boy," Pierre ignored Blaine's stuttered explanation and pointed out a fashionably dressed man around Blaine's age, one who was obviously not without money by the state of his clothing. He only caught a glimpse of the backside of the man as he ducked into an alley way as Pierre continued speaking, "Take this and go in there after him." He pushed a serrated knife into Blaine's hand. "You're going to take his money and anything valuable he might have on him, do you understand me?"
He swallowed thickly and nodded, before quickly following the man into the alley. He always hated it when Pierre directly ordered him to mug somebody. He could never disobey a direct order from the man; it only meant pain- or possibly death.
He grabbed the slight man by the back of the neck, pushing him into the wall and pressing the knife against his ribs. If he didn't see the fear in the guy's face, then maybe he wouldn't feel so bad. He forced his voice to be low and gravelly, "Give me your money; all of it and that fancy watch of yours."
The man fumbled for his wallet and opened it and Blaine frowned, asking roughly, "What do you think you're doing?"
"Please," a high, soft, much too familiar voice begged him desperately, "It's just a photograph. Take whatever you want but please, just let me keep the photo."
"Pass it back now," he said in a much quieter, softer voice, the familiarity of the man's voice had piqued his curiosity, and his fear.
The man didn't turn his head, just gave a soft whimper and passed the wallet back. Open in the wallet laid a photo worn by constant folding and unfolding of two teenage boys hugging each other and wearing navy blazers with red trim all while grinning goofily into the camera.
The picture fluttered to the ground as the wallet dropped. Blaine whipped his victim around and took in the familiar face. His mouth dropped open softly and the knife slipped from his fingers in shock. "Of all the people in New York," Blaine whispered in a quiet voice, "It had to be you."
A/N: Well that's the first chapter. I'll be updating this story on Fridays. I'm also working on another story that I'll be starting to post soon called "Desperate Measures" but I'm waiting until I have a few more chapters ready before I post. I wasn't actually going to start posting this story right away, but I figured since it's pre-Season 3 I should post it before Season 3 ends.
I'm sorry for the previous errors. They aren't in my original document on my computer, but I had some trouble with the document uploader so I'm assuming it dropped some words from the document. I've since gone back and corrected all the ones I've noticed.
Please leave me a review. They're much appreciated.