Chapter Two: To Where You Are

The first thing that registered when the fog in his mind finally began to lift was pain.  His head ached dully, but the worst pain was in his left leg, sharp like he was being stabbed with a knife.  He struggled to open his eyes.

The surface mere feet above his head was grey and looked soft.  It was familiar, somehow, though he was sure that he hadn’t seen this one in particular before.  He frowned to himself, thinking hard even though thinking hurt.  He wanted to touch it but realized with a start that his arms were bound together.  Great.

It took his mind a few moments, but eventually he was able to orient himself.  He was in a car, lying flat on his back in what must be the back seat.  Gathering his strength, he tried to sit up, abruptly falling back with a loud groan.

“Hey Henry!” he heard a voice exclaim from the front seat.  “Looks like he’s finally waking up!”

“Bout time.  They’re usually not out this long.  Then again, I’ve not seen too many who haven’t gotten through before.”

Gotten through… Blaine pondered this and after a while it all came back to him.  Traveling with Kurt and Burt, crossing the barrier.  Had he not made it across?  Had Kurt not made it?

“Kurt…” he tried, hating the weakness of his own voice when he heard it.

He turned his head and saw a man peering back at him from between the seats, but the face was neither familiar nor kind.

“Who’s that, your boyfriend?” the man taunted him.  “I went to school with that kid, always did suspect he was a twink.”  He inclined his head towards Blaine’s hand, drawing Blaine’s attention to the fact that it was, indeed, naked.  They must have removed the glove that covered Kurt’s name. 

Blaine felt the anger welling up inside of him at the man’s gall, but forced it down.  He couldn’t do anything to defend himself in his present situation, anyways, and right now he needed information. 

“Where is he,” he all but growled out.

The man laughed.  “Don’t know, don’t care.  Maybe he got lucky and was able to cross.  We only found you, and you’d been out for at least a day when we did, from the looks of it.  Maybe someone else picked him up, or maybe he up and left you.”

Kurt would never leave me, Blaine thought.  He must have crossed then, and he was safe.  But why didn’t Blaine himself make it?  He had an idea, but it would do no good to dwell on it now.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Where all homos go,” the man said casually, still sneering at him.  “To see Satan!”

“Gees, lay off the kid, would you David?  Whether he’s that kind or not, he’s about to suffer enough!”

And although Blaine was slightly reassured by the fact that at least the other man (Henry?) didn’t seem to have it out for him, “suffer” did not sound promising at all.

“I only speak the truth,” David defended himself.  “We may have orders to bring him in alive, but I’ve known her for years, and I know what Santana does to her prisoners.”  He turned back to Blaine.  “You better be of use to her, faggot, or you won’t be alive very long!”

Blaine closed his eyes, not wanting to look at this “David” or even worse, allow him to read the fear in Blaine’s eyes.  “How far?”

“We’re about an hour out,” Henry answered. 

“Better enjoy the comfort while it lasts,” David added.

Blaine shut them out, in his mind conjuring an image of Kurt—hopefully safe now in The Olde World—and willed himself to sleep.

*******

A loud bang startled him awake the second time, but he had little time to react before he was yanked forcefully from the car.  He stumbled, without meaning to leaning against the man (David, his mind supplied) who currently had his arms in a vice grip.  Blaine looked around, startled by the sight that greeted him.  They had pulled into a cobblestone driveway framed by well-tended greenery; in front of him was a great stone house.  If Blaine didn’t know better, he’d be tempted to call it a castle—massive structures he remembered from an old textbook he’d read at Dalton.

Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t given much time to stare before he was jerked along, the guard mindless of his injured leg.  Blaine couldn’t decide what was worse: putting weight on it or letting David support him.  Ultimately, the guard’s speed didn’t leave him much choice.

They bypassed the front door, instead moving around the side of the building to a smaller entrance that was nearly concealed.  David pushed through it easily, throwing Blaine to the floor unceremoniously the moment they were inside.  Blaine couldn’t control his groan of pain, noticing at once that this entire room was stone too, and the press of the floor unforgiving. 

Henry came in behind them and shot Blaine a look that was almost pitying, but said nothing.

“You’ll wait here,” David ordered, already moving through to a second door on the opposite side of the large room.  “I wouldn’t try anything.”

As if he could.

The wait was long enough for Blaine to get lost in his thoughts, but not nearly as long as he expected it to be.  He tried his best to sit up straighter when someone barged into the room, tried to clear his mind of images of Kurt and blink away the tears he hadn’t been able to stop. 

But to his surprise, it was a woman, dressed casually and carrying a small first aid kit.  She knelt beside him, considering him with sympathy.

“My name’s Terri,” she said, the brightness of her voice startling him a little.  “I came to see if you’re hurt.”

Blaine scoffed.  “What do they care?  I was told I’m to be tortured.”

“It is possible,” Terri conceded, opening the kit before moving to check his injuries.  Blaine flinched away, but she was persistent.  “Ms. Lopez likes her prisoners at their best when she meets them, either way.”

“How kind of her.”

Terri seemed unfazed by his sarcasm and met his eyes.  “She isn’t often kind, and she can often be cruel, but she’s also unpredictable.  It’s hard to say what she’ll do with you, but it might help if you tell me why you’re here.”

Blaine relaxed a little, starting to get a read on this woman.  She was clearly a gossip, and that could prove useful.  “I broke out of prison, tried to escape through the barrier.”  He paused, considering, then added, “with my soulmate and his father.”

It was almost comical, the way Terri’s eyes widened and her surprised gasp.  But she recovered quickly.  “I’ve never met someone like you.  At least, not someone who’s not been rehabilitated.  Is that what you were in jail for?”

“There is that, but my main offense was treason.  I guess now that I’ve run, I’m a second offender.”

“Oh,” for whatever reason, Terri seemed less interested in this.  But she leaned closer to him, almost conspiratorially.  “Santana’s been rehabilitated, you know.  I’ve heard that’s why she’s such a good leader.”

A good thing to know, Blaine thought, but he had no idea what to do with it.

Noting his lack of response, Terri continued.  “I wouldn’t expect that to make her more sympathetic to you, though.  There,” Terri stood, having finished patching up some of his more minor injuries.  “I think your leg might be broken, though not badly.  I’m not a doctor.”

“Will someone be in soon?”

Terri shrugged.  “Santana does what she wants, I don’t know about anyone else.”  She studied him for a long moment.  “She doesn’t usually decide about people the first night, so that’s one more night for you.  You’ll probably be moved to a cell.  Try to find a way to be useful to her.”

“Thank you, but I have no desire to sell myself out to a bigoted, New-World-governmental lacky.”  He held his chin high, meeting her gaze.

She smiled at him sadly, but it soon faded.  “You might if it means seeing your man again someday.”

Blaine watched as she quietly left the room, her words playing on inside his head.

Terri was right: Blaine wasn’t a quitter.  Blaine Anderson was Kurt Hummel’s soulmate, and Kurt was worth fighting for.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, willing the cold, hard stone surrounding him to fade into the comforting warmth of his lover’s embrace.

“I swear, Kurt, I’ll find a way back to you,” he whispered into the darkness, hoping that somehow, wherever he was, his soulmate knew that Blaine would never give him up.

*******

When Blaine woke this time it was to the sharp sound of a woman’s voice and the grating click of her heals. 

“Well, well well… and how is my newest captive?  Eagerly anticipating my visit, I’m sure.”

Blaine opened his eyes slowly, already knowing whose image would greet him.  This could only be Santana.

The woman standing in front of him wasn’t terribly tall.  She was beautiful, her figure the common man’s bedroom fantasy—Blaine could tell that even as a gay man, especially considering her outfit did little to hide it.  Her grin was lecherous, a fitting match for the maniacal glint in her dark eyes.  Shiny black hair fell in waves down her back.  Blaine didn’t have to guess why her nickname was Satan.  She looked the textbook definition of evil.

And now she was looming closer, reaching out to take a stray curl between her fingers.  Blaine’s first instinct was to swat her hand away, but no, his arms were still bound.

“You certainly are a pretty one,” Santana was saying.  “Want to tell me your story?”

Blaine cleared his throat, hoping to find his voice.  “I’m sorry,” he finally spoke with as much coldness as he could muster, fixing her with an icy glare.  “I’m not accustomed to sharing show and tell with strangers.”

Her face darkened at this, but quickly recovered, returning to what was clearly her trademark smirk.

“No need to stay strangers, sweetie.  My name’s Santana.  Yours is Blaine.  See, we already know each other!”

Blaine winced at the sound of his name from her lips.  “I’ll make you a deal.  You explain to me—in full—who you are, why I’m here, and what you plan to do with me… and I might decide to talk.”

Santana scoffed.  “Surely you know you’re in no place right now to be bargaining.  But I like your spunk, so I might be willing to throw you a bone,” she chuckled at this last word, clearly enjoying her own attempt at a joke.  At least it gave Blaine some idea of how much she already knew about him.  “My full name is Santana Lopez, and I’m the Head of Security in this country.  You’re here because you were stupid enough to commit treason and then had the impudence to think we’d let you run away.  As to what will happen to you here… well, that’s pretty open-ended at the moment.”

Blaine met her eyes.  “And what do you want to know?”

Santana’s smile widened.  “You were in prison under Sue Sylvester, right?  She’s a good one, Sue—my mentor, in fact—but what she really loves is to win, which means she won’t even try if she thinks a case is too difficult, a patient too stubborn.  You and your brother, Cooper is it?”

She paused, watching Blaine’s face tense.  He fought to keep his expression blank, but wasn’t quick enough. 

“Hit a nerve there, did I?  Look, I know why you got arrested.  Big brother sold you out to save his own ass, didn’t he?  Betraying you and your cause.  I’ve heard about your little Olde World rebel group, willing to risk so many years of peace and safety over there to screw our system over here.  What I fail to understand is why?  If you’re all so safe and happy over there, then what reason is there behind this almighty, holy-roller mission?”

Blaine met her eyes, projecting his own determination as much as he could.  He remained silent while Santana stared him down, waiting.

“You know I’ve got enough on you to kill you for, if you don’t make it worth my while to keep you alive.  Not that someone in my position really needs any reason at all.  Lord knows it wouldn’t hurt the world any to take out one more buttboy with a hideous fro, as little risk as you are to the gene pool.  So tell me, what are you and your merry band of cronies planning?”

Blaine smiled crookedly—an equal match for hers, he thought to himself—and leaned forward, internally praying he had calculated this right.  “Why don’t you tell me, Santana, exactly what it is that made you so bitter?  Surely your sacred government didn’t screw with your head?  Did mommy and daddy not love you enough to spare you?”

It was slight, but Blaine’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction when he saw her own darken—the barest hint of anger, boiling close to the surface.  Just as quickly, she slammed the lid.  

“The only thing this government ever did for me was grant me the power of life and death over pathetic, whimpering little homos like you.”  Her grin returned, more conniving than ever.  “Mommy and daddy couldn’t be more proud.”

In an instant, Santana had spun around to face David, who was lurking in the corner of the room watching with ill-concealed interest.  Blaine hadn’t even noticed him.  “He’s useless,” she stated dead-pan.  “Go ahead and take care of him.”

Blaine’s stomach twisted sickly as David’s eyes lit up and he advanced slowly, almost like he was stalking prey.  But this wasn’t the wild and Blaine was bound and broken; he would get no chance to run away.  He closed his eyes, trying to picture Kurt’s face, his beautiful body on the one night they had spent together.  He raised his hands—still bound—instinctively to cover his face…

“Wait!”  Santana’s voice barely registered in his mind.  He opened his eyes, lowering his arms and considering her with the barest hint of hope.  His eyes flickered to David, pleased to see that the man looked royally pissed.

“I’ve changed my mind, this one’s too pretty to kill.”  She came closer again and seemed to be examining him, looking over his hands and then his face.  Blaine tried not to flinch away, knowing this might be his salvation and, eventually, his way back to Kurt. 

Santana’s eyes met his, and Blaine was perplexed by what he saw in them—something entirely different than the cold but amused disdain they had contained throughout most of their encounter.  But whatever had changed, it was impossible to read.

She backed off, addressing a second man in the room.  “Sandy, set him up with a room in the West Wing.  Get him some food and a doctor.  I want him ready for me by tonight.”

The man, who was dressed more strangely than anybody Blaine had ever encountered, nodded.  “Yes mistress,” he said with too much complacency, shooting Blaine a glance that could only be described as creepy.

His attention focused on Sandy leaving the room, Blaine startled when Santana sat in his lap, facing him in a straddle, and leaned close to his ear.  “Try to escape and I will cut you, no matter who your soulmate is.” 

With those words she was gone, moving away from him just as quickly as she had come and leaving Blaine more confused—and more hopeful—than ever.