Blaine blinked quickly, trying to get past the tears so he could see Kurt clearly. He'd been tortured, there was no other word for it. His face was swollen and his lips were puffy and bleeding. Looking at Kurt's hands, held gingerly in his lap, made his stomach turn. Several of his fingers were misshapen, obviously broken. There were small bits of blood showing through Kurt's pajama shirt and pants at various points. Blaine didn't know what they were from, but he could imagine that the rest of Kurt's body had been just as thoroughly beaten as his face was.

At that moment, Kurt opened his eyes, Blaine supposed he'd probably been unconscious when he'd whimpered as Blaine was brought in. His eyes were mere slits in his face, the blue-green color dull in his face. As he blearily looked around in fear, he found Marco and began shuddering.

"Hey, Kurt, we brought you a friend, you wanna say hi?" Marco said cheerfully.

Kurt's eyes quickly found his and he moaned loudly, his eyes trying to go wide.

"Bane," he murmured painfully. "Bane I sorry."

Blaine shook his head and wished he could comfort him, but the cloth in his mouth was too large to try and talk around.

"So, Blaine, your friend here refused to tell us if Sebastian had been killed; if his heroin had been tampered with. We've been trying to convince him to tell us what your part in all of this was, but as you can see, he hasn't been very helpful," Smythe said, walking over and patting Kurt on the cheek, causing him to cry out in pain.

"You refused to rat on your little boyfriend, didn't you, Kurt?" Smythe continued, walking around behind Kurt. He squatted down until his face was level with Kurt's over his shoulder. "We think having you here, watching what we do to Kurt might make you want to talk instead," he said. "Marco, go ahead."

Marco went over to the table and picked up a long thin instrument. Was that a pickle fork? The large man walked over to Kurt whose eyes were as wide as they could go, tears shining. He was moaning and trying to lean away. How many times had he been through this in the hours he'd been here?

"Come on, Kurt, you know the drill," Marco said, a pleasant smile on his face. He viciously stuck the fork in Kurt's thigh, yanking it out and doing it again in the other thigh.

Blaine began fighting in earnest, making as much noise as he could, trying with every ounce of strength he had to break free so he could get to Kurt. When nothing happened, he stared at Smythe, trying to get his attention. When Smythe looked at him, questioningly, he nodded as if answering.

"Hold on, Marco, I think Anderson wants to chat. But stand by in case he needs some more incentive," Smythe said.

Smythe loosened the gag. "Kurt, I love you, baby," he got out before Marco's fist connected with his jaw. Holy shit, that monster of a man must have bricks for hands. And how many of these had Kurt had to suffer through? He looked at Kurt, sympathy and worry in his gaze. Kurt just stared back, tears trailing down his bruised face.

"You don't get to talk to him. So, Anderson, what was your part in my son's death? And remember, any lies or hesitation, and Marco will have to take it out on Kurt. Not so pretty anymore, is he?" Smythe mused. "Anyway, tell me what part you played and why it had to be my son."

Blaine didn't hesitate. "Your son tried to rape Kurt. He knew Kurt had a history of cutting and after he tried to rape him, he left behind a box of razors and Kurt used them to slit his wrists. He died in my arms and it was only by chance that I was able to revive him," Blaine said evenly. He couldn't think about it too much or he might fall apart and Kurt needed him strong. He had no problem telling Smythe all he knew. He didn't know what the ramifications were going to be, but anything to stop Kurt from further torture was worth a try. He was probably being naïve and they would both end up dead, but he had to try anything he could. "I knew Sebastian had a drug problem and purchased them behind Screamers. I arranged for him to get some heroin that had been laced with other drugs. He shot it up and died," Blaine said, not specifying that he'd been there almost egging Sebastian on through the last minutes of his life. "That's everything."

Smythe stood in front of him, his thin face pale. Suddenly he lashed out, punching Blaine in the face again and again. "My. Son. Was. Not. Gay!" he yelled.

Kurt whimpered and tried to move. "Stay put, Kurt," Marco warned. Kurt sat back and wept silently as Smythe continued to hit him.

Smythe finally stopped, and paced back and forth, his face full of emotions. "Drugs, it had to be the drugs. Why else would he try to hurt a fag? There's no other explanation. My son had a drug problem and it affected his mind, drove him crazy. I'll be back in a moment," Smythe said, distracted.

Blaine could tell he was more affected by finding out that his son was gay than that Blaine had had him killed. Why was this so hard for parents to accept? He looked back at Kurt who looked relieved for a moment.

"Marco, come with me. Let's leave the lovebirds to say their final goodbyes," he said, his voice tired.

Marco followed him. Kurt and Blaine stared at them as they walked out and listened to the sound of them going up the stairs and closing the door.

They finally looked at each other. "I am so sorry, Kurt," Blaine said.

"Don't ee," Kurt murmured, trying to talk through his swollen lips.

"I'll figure some way to get us out of here, baby, I promise," Blaine continued.

Kurt just shook his head, every motion looking more painful than the last.

"Don't lose hope, Kurt," Blaine said, his heart aching to see his love like this.

He could have sworn Kurt rolled his eyes. Then Blaine's own eyes widened when Kurt moaned softly as he hefted himself out of the chair. There was something wrong with his foot, it wasn't quite facing the way it was supposed to. He hobbled toward Blaine, peering through his puffy eyelids.

"Kurt, we don't know when they'll be back, you should probably sit down," he said, though he really just wanted Kurt to be sitting so he wouldn't risk hurting himself more.

"Know what 'm doin," Kurt mumbled. He reached his hand into his waist band and pulled out a small knife. "'arco is a dumbass," he said, with some version of a contorted smile.

"Kurt! You're brilliant. Thank god," Blaine said, proud of his fiancé.

Gingerly, Kurt pulled the blade out and knelt painfully by Blaine's chair. It took him some time and he was panting and whimpering in pain, but he continued to saw through the thick rope. Finally he freed one of Blaine's hands and Blaine quickly took the knife from him and began working his way through the rope on his other hand. "Great job, baby. You're doing so good."

"'ove you, Bane," he said.

"I love you, too, Kurt," Blaine said, quickly working through rope and beginning work on his ankles. Soon he was free and helping Kurt to his feet after he stuck the knife in his pocket. Blaine kissed him lightly and leaned him against the wall before going to the table and picking up the baseball bat. There was a smear of blood across the wooden surface and he refused to think about where it came from. They had to get out of there, first.

"Stay behind me at all times and if I tell you to run, I want you to try your best to run out of here. From what I saw and felt when we were coming down, if we turn left at the top of the stairs, we should be able to get to the front door," Blaine said quietly, helping Kurt limp toward the door. "Stay strong, baby, we'll be out of here soon."

Kurt nodded, trying to pay attention as best as he could. His head was fuzzy and he'd used all of his energy to free Blaine's arm. There was so much pain, too much to function around. He could only hope Blaine was right, that they'd be out of there soon. He didn't think he had much strength left in him to survive much more.

"Okay, here we go. You just keep moving when I tell you to, no matter what happens," Blaine whispered.

He helped Kurt limp up the stairs, both of them standing at the top. Blaine eased the door open. Peeking around the door, he saw the way was clear and helped Kurt through the door.

They crept along the hallway to the left, hoping to see the front door with nobody in front of it.

They weren't so lucky. Rounding the corner toward the door, they walked straight into Marco and Smythe.

"What the hell!" Smythe yelled out.

Blaine shoved Kurt behind him and swung the bat as Marco came at them. Marco blocked the blow with his arm, but the force of it broke his arm, the loud crack echoing the room. Blaine danced out of the way as Marco tried to punch him with his other arm; Blaine's boxing experience coming in handy. Kurt watched, amazed and impressed, as Blaine swung the bat repeatedly, never missing a single part of Marco's body. At one point, Marco grabbed the bat and started to pull it away. Blaine put a stop to it by giving Marco a swift kick to the balls. Marco squealed and fell to his knees. Blaine took the opportunity and began swinging the bat again and again.

Kurt saw Smythe edging towards his phone on a table nearby. Spying a vase close by, Kurt took it, wincing at the pain in his hands and he hurled it at Smythe, hitting him squarely in the face.

Suddenly the door slammed open, Jason and Puck running inside with guns at the ready. A large team of men followed behind and started going through the house. Puck grabbed Smythe, holding his arms behind his back. Jason went to Blaine who was still slamming the bat into Marco's unconscious body.

"Blaine, Blaine, come on buddy. He's down for the count," Jason said quietly, reaching out to try and take the bat.

"Did. You. See. What. He. Did. To. Kurt?" Blaine grunted, accentuating each word with another hit.

"And he'll get what's coming to him. Kurt needs you to help him right now, he looks like he's about to collapse," Jason said, sending a sympathetic look towards Kurt.

Those were the magic words that got through to Blaine. He dropped the bat and hurried to Kurt, who was slumping against the wall. "Someone call an ambulance," he commanded. One of the men immediately pulled out his phone.

"And the police," Jason said.

Blaine looked at him in surprise. "Are you sure you want them to get involved?"

"Oh, absolutely. We just happen to have a taped confession of Mr. Smythe here admitting to having his son murdered because he's gay," Jason said with an amused grin.

"What the hell?" Smythe bit out. "I did no such thing!"

"Yeah, well, it wasn't just you who had Blaine being kept under surveillance. Thanks to all of your recent conversations, we were able to piece together your voice and your confession," Puck told him.

Blaine was impressed. "Nice work, Puck."

"All in a day's work, bro," Puck said with a grin.

"How did you guys find us by the way?" Blaine asked.

"We put a GPS unit on your car a long time ago. How the hell else are we supposed to keep your dumb ass alive. We had an idea that Smythe might contact you and we were right. I wish you had let us know where you were going. That might have been helpful in getting us here sooner," Jason said, glaring at Blaine.

"Well, we're all alive and that's the point," Blaine said, cradling Kurt gently in his arms. Kurt hadn't said a word since they were in the basement and Blaine was sure he'd reached the end of his strength. He was so proud of him. He'd made it through a complete nightmare, one of many he'd survived, and he'd kept his strength and wits about him. Managing to get that knife without any clear idea of how he might use it to free himself. Kurt suddenly collapsed and Blaine caught him up in his arms.

"Jason, check his breathing," Blaine said, lifting him gently.

Jason came over and listened to Kurt's chest and took his pulse. "He's okay, just unconscious. What the holy hell did they do to him?"

"I'm not sure what all was done, but I know they used the baseball bat, and stabbed him with a fucking pickle fork. His fingers are broken and maybe even one of his ankles. Who knows what else. I just wish the freaking ambulance would get here," Blaine said.

Jason was staring at him, horrified. "How the hell is he still alive?"

Blaine looked down at Kurt, kissing his forehead. "Strength. He is so much stronger than any of us could ever guess. So much stronger than me. Did you know he stole a knife from that Marco guy and hid it? Then when they brought me in and left the room, Kurt got up and managed to cut through the ropes holding me. He got through that rope with broken fingers. I can't even imagine the pain he must have been in, that he's still in. Where is the damn ambulance?"

"Should be here in less than five more minutes, sir," the man who called reported.

"Thanks," Blaine said, truly appreciative.

In the remaining time, Puck took Smythe out of the room and Jason told him what the story would be once the police got there. Blaine listened closely, knowing this was vital to his future.

The ambulance got there followed by the police. Chaos ensued for several minutes as Jason and Puck handled the telling of the story. Kurt was taken away immediately. Blaine wanted to go with him, but the police insisted on getting his side of the events first. Marco was also taken away in an ambulance, though there wasn't much hope that he would survive. Nobody admitted to who had beaten him, the bat mysteriously having disappeared. The police listened to the tape and didn't hesitate to take Smythe into custody. They left the car door open for a moment and Blaine slid over to stare Smythe in the eyes.

"This is over. Here and now. You got your revenge. Unless you want the rest of your family involved in this, then it ends here and now," Blaine hissed, his golden eyes glowing with hate.

Smythe stared at him for a moment before nodding slowly. "It's over."

Blaine nodded back and walked away. He hurried through his report and signed the necessary forms before rushing to his car. He'd found his wallet, phone, gun, and keys right where they'd been left, thankfully. Speeding through town, he made it to the hospital in record time.

Dashing through the doors to the desk, he demanded to know where Kurt was. He was shown back to a room, but was told to remain in the hall.

Minutes later, a doctor came up to him.

"Are you with Mr. Hummel?"

"Yes, he's my fiancé," Blaine answered. The doctor didn't even blink an eye and once again, Blaine was grateful to live in New York.

"Mr. Hummel is in very poor condition. I understand he was the victim of a kidnapping?"

"Yes. He was kept in a basement and tortured for at least eight hours, maybe more," Blaine said, his stomach turning.

"Tortured is definitely the right way to put it. Let's have a seat," the doctor said, pointing to nearby chairs.

They sat, Blaine nervous at what he was about to hear.

"Mr. Hummel has sustained severe injuries. He has four broken fingers, a broken wrist, ribs, ankle, and several toes, and a broken cheekbone. He has multiple stab wounds, from what we have no idea," the doctor said.

"Pickle fork," Blaine whispered.

"A pickle fork? Dear god. It makes sense though. He was stabbed all over his body, but those just need simple stitches and cleaning. He needs surgery because his spleen was ruptured and he may have internal bleeding from other injuries from some blunt object," the doctor continued.

"Bat," Blaine said.

"How the hell is that boy still alive," the doctor muttered.

"I don't know," Blaine said honestly.

"Anyway, on top of that, he's a bit dehydrated. His mouth is burned, his tongue is actually blistered. Any idea how that happened?" Blaine shook his head. "Well, we'll get him fixed up, but he has a long road of recovery ahead. Physical therapy and such. He's also going to be dealing with the emotional aspect of it. PTSD and that sort of thing. We're going to be keeping him heavily sedated, even after the surgery. Just for a few days until the majority of his pain eases up."

"Can I see him?" Blaine asked, tears falling down his face. "Please?"

The doctor nodded and patted him on the knee. "He lived through the beating. Now is the easy part, though it'll take the longest time. Come on, let's get you in to see him. Just for a minute though, we need to prep him for surgery."

"Thank you, doctor," Blaine said sincerely, shaking the man's hand.

He walked into Kurt's room. He looked so tiny and helpless, his face pale beneath the swelling and bruises. It made him flash back to the day he tried to kill himself. This time though his entire body was an injury. How the hell had his tongue and mouth been burned? He leaned down to lightly kiss Kurt on the forehead, there was really nowhere else to kiss him that wouldn't cause him pain. Needing to see what damage had been done, he pulled the blanket down and lifted up the hospital gown. He moaned aloud at the bruises and stab wounds coloring Kurt all over his torso and legs. Blaine had to swallow back the bile that was rising in his throat. He was more glad than ever that he got to beat the crap out of Marco. He prayed the man would die.

"I love you, Kurt Hummel. You get through this surgery and come back to me, you got it? I love you so much," Blaine whispered next to his ear, his voice breaking on the words.

"Uh you too," Kurt mumbled.

Blaine smiled. His Kurt was in there and hopefully would make it out of this in one piece. He would be there every step of the way.