Taken - 1/6
Title: Taken
Character(s)/Pairing: Puck, Quinn, Puck/Quinn
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: Overall, about 7,400. This chapter, 1,397
Status: In Progress
Notes/Warnings: Something I started sometime last year, forgot about, found, and finished. As for WARNINGS, uh...I completely raped medical science, does that count? Oh, and resulting mpreg (not slash).
Summary: One second everything was fine. The next, Puck and Quinn had vanished without a trace. Now, held captive in a tiny room, victims of some mad men's delusions, all they have is each other if they want to survive.
“I need to talk to you,” Puck said, pulling on Quinn’s arm. He dragged her away, out of the concert hall where the rest of New Directions were gathered after their twelfth place loss and out the back door. He didn’t drop her arm until they were bathed in the New York summer sun.
“What?” Quinn snapped, arms crossed over the black dress the girls had worn for Nationals.
“What the hell is wrong with you? This whole year, you’ve managed to turn into an even worse bitch than you were before you got pregnant. You cheated on Sam and you played Finn like a fiddle for a crown you didn’t even win. It’s like you don’t even care anymore. Go ahead and ignore me all you want. Whatever. But do you even remember anything from last year?”
“Of course I do-”
“Really? Because most of the time, it feels like you don’t even remember who Beth is.”
She slapped him, eyes ablaze. “Don’t. Don’t even think that I’ve forgotten her. I think about her every day, Puck! I carried her for months and giving her up killed me, but I had to move on with my life.”
“And acting like last year never happened is how you’re doing it?!”
“I can’t think about her! What do you want me to say, Puck? That I regret giving her up?! I wish I had her, but we couldn’t have raised her! You ended up in juvie!”
“You think I would have done something that fucking stupid if we’d kept her?” Puck snapped.
“I don’t know!” Quinn exclaimed, suddenly deflating a second later as her voice lowered to a whisper, “I don’t know.”
Puck sighed, running a hand over his head. He’d shaved the Mohawk off a month after Regionals. A couple people had asked why, but he’d never explained further than that he’d wanted a change. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure. Maybe it was just time to grow up.
It all went to hell a second later.
Arms grabbed Quinn before Puck could even register they were there, pulling her back and away from him. A hand pressed a damp cloth over her mouth and nose as more hands did the same to her ex. She heard Puck struggling and the sound of a body hitting the ground.
Then...nothing.
---
She woke up, pillowed against Puck’s chest, confused and lids heavy as she rubbed clumsily at her eyes. “What...”
“I don’t know,” Puck said, sounding scared, though he tried to hide it. “I woke up as they were finishing the physicals. Knocked me out again. I only woke up a couple minutes ago.”
“They-”
“Yeah.”
Quinn shuddered in his hold, nauseous at the thought of having been stripped down and examined by whoever had taken them. Puck just tightened his grip on her. She drew her legs up, noticing only then that she was no longer in her dress. Both she and Puck had been changed into mint-colored medical scrubs that looked out of place in the room they were in.
The room was small. There was a stained mattress shoved in the corner with a dirty blanket and pillow. Three buckets sat in opposite corners. One was closer to the door and next to a tray of food. The second, Quinn assumed, was meant to be a toilet. She cringed at the thought. The third was half the size of the other two and had a wash cloth hanging from it. Their shower.
The windowless walls, she guessed, used to be white, but they were ruined now. Water damage stained the ceiling and plaster was falling off here and there. The walls were discolored in spots with things she didn’t want to identify.
But it was the metal door she couldn’t look away from. More specifically, the scratches on it, filled with rust and something she was pretty sure was dried blood.
Oh, God.
A sob ripped through her and she hid her face in Puck’s chest. “They’re going to kill us.”
---
They jumped when the lock unlatched hours later. Scrambled to their feet as Puck hid Quinn behind his back. Stiffened when two men walked in, ski masks on their faces and guns in their hands.
Quinn squeezed Puck’s arm in a silent plea to not do anything stupid and heroic. They’d kill him. She didn’t want to be alone.
“Come on,” the bigger one ordered, grabbing Puck’s wrist. He pressed the barrel to Puck’s back and nodded at his partner to do the same with a shaking Quinn.
They led them down the hall with cocked guns ready to shoot if they looked up from their feet. Pushed them into a dirty medical room where a third man stood in his own pair of dark scrubs. Unlike the others, he was unmasked, leaving his pale skin uncovered. Brown hair was pulled back into a scrub cap and matching eyes made Quinn’s stomach flip.
Neither of them fought as they were pushed onto metal tables and strapped down.
“Please,” she pleaded as their tops were cut away. “Please. My name is Quinn. He’s Puck. We’re only seventeen. We-”
“We aren’t going to kill you,” the doctor said, kind and crazed as he picked up a scalpel. “We’re gonna make history.”
---
Her stomach felt like it was on fire.
Quinn whimpered, blinking her eyes open. She was back in the room with the metal door.
Oh, God. Puck.
She wanted to spring to her feet, but the pain kept her flat on her back. She searched as far as she could without moving, eyes straining. Found him just barely in the corner of her eye, lying on the mattress. Fear gripped at her, terrified that he was dead. He was pale. So, so pale.
“Puck,” she whispered weakly. “Puck, wake up.”
No reply came and she forced back the tears that wanted to fall. Lifted up her shirt with a soft hiss and gasped, horrified at the stitched up incision on her stomach. It was healing. Looked like it had been for days.
How long had she been unconscious and lying on this floor?
Did the others know she and Puck were gone?
Were they looking?
Were they close to finding them?
“Puck?”
She closed her eyes and prayed.
---
Puck didn’t wake up for days. Or, at least, Quinn thought it was days. She had no way of telling time in this room. No windows meant no sunlight, just the dirty florescent light that flickered occasionally. The men only brought food once every so often, but it was never consistent. They came in with meds, too, but they refused to tell her how often they were supposed to be taken. She’d refused them the first day, but they forced her to swallow them down as they injected something into Puck.
By the time he did wake up, Quinn had healed enough that she could hobble painfully around the room. She still blushed, humiliated, any time she had to use the bucket.
When he finally groaned, Quinn thought she’d finally gone mad from the fear and silence. Dashed over as fast as she was able anyway and gripped his hand.
“Puck? Puck, wake up,” she pleaded, eyes tearing as he groaned again and his eyelids fluttered. “Oh, God. Puck. Puck, I’m right here. Come on. Open your eyes. Please open your eyes.”
She covered her mouth with a hand when he did and brown eyes finally opened.
“Quinn?” Puck grunted, looking confused for a minute, like he didn’t remember where he was or why she’d be with him. She knew the second the memories came back, watched as his face fell and caught the fear that flashed across his eyes before he hid it. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “They did something to us. Surgery. I don’t know what they did, but they keep giving us these meds and they won’t tell me why.”
“Why are you-”
“They made me the first time. It’s not poison or anything. I’ve been feeling better,” she said, just as confused as Puck looked. “I don’t know what they’re doing. I mean, I feel a little weird, like something’s missing, but...” She shrugged. “I don’t know, Puck. I just don’t know.”
The way he sagged against the thin pillow told her he didn’t either.
TBC
Chapter 2 >>
Character(s)/Pairing: Puck, Quinn, Puck/Quinn
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: Overall, about 7,400. This chapter, 1,397
Status: In Progress
Notes/Warnings: Something I started sometime last year, forgot about, found, and finished. As for WARNINGS, uh...I completely raped medical science, does that count? Oh, and resulting mpreg (not slash).
Summary: One second everything was fine. The next, Puck and Quinn had vanished without a trace. Now, held captive in a tiny room, victims of some mad men's delusions, all they have is each other if they want to survive.
“I need to talk to you,” Puck said, pulling on Quinn’s arm. He dragged her away, out of the concert hall where the rest of New Directions were gathered after their twelfth place loss and out the back door. He didn’t drop her arm until they were bathed in the New York summer sun.
“What?” Quinn snapped, arms crossed over the black dress the girls had worn for Nationals.
“What the hell is wrong with you? This whole year, you’ve managed to turn into an even worse bitch than you were before you got pregnant. You cheated on Sam and you played Finn like a fiddle for a crown you didn’t even win. It’s like you don’t even care anymore. Go ahead and ignore me all you want. Whatever. But do you even remember anything from last year?”
“Of course I do-”
“Really? Because most of the time, it feels like you don’t even remember who Beth is.”
She slapped him, eyes ablaze. “Don’t. Don’t even think that I’ve forgotten her. I think about her every day, Puck! I carried her for months and giving her up killed me, but I had to move on with my life.”
“And acting like last year never happened is how you’re doing it?!”
“I can’t think about her! What do you want me to say, Puck? That I regret giving her up?! I wish I had her, but we couldn’t have raised her! You ended up in juvie!”
“You think I would have done something that fucking stupid if we’d kept her?” Puck snapped.
“I don’t know!” Quinn exclaimed, suddenly deflating a second later as her voice lowered to a whisper, “I don’t know.”
Puck sighed, running a hand over his head. He’d shaved the Mohawk off a month after Regionals. A couple people had asked why, but he’d never explained further than that he’d wanted a change. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure. Maybe it was just time to grow up.
It all went to hell a second later.
Arms grabbed Quinn before Puck could even register they were there, pulling her back and away from him. A hand pressed a damp cloth over her mouth and nose as more hands did the same to her ex. She heard Puck struggling and the sound of a body hitting the ground.
Then...nothing.
---
She woke up, pillowed against Puck’s chest, confused and lids heavy as she rubbed clumsily at her eyes. “What...”
“I don’t know,” Puck said, sounding scared, though he tried to hide it. “I woke up as they were finishing the physicals. Knocked me out again. I only woke up a couple minutes ago.”
“They-”
“Yeah.”
Quinn shuddered in his hold, nauseous at the thought of having been stripped down and examined by whoever had taken them. Puck just tightened his grip on her. She drew her legs up, noticing only then that she was no longer in her dress. Both she and Puck had been changed into mint-colored medical scrubs that looked out of place in the room they were in.
The room was small. There was a stained mattress shoved in the corner with a dirty blanket and pillow. Three buckets sat in opposite corners. One was closer to the door and next to a tray of food. The second, Quinn assumed, was meant to be a toilet. She cringed at the thought. The third was half the size of the other two and had a wash cloth hanging from it. Their shower.
The windowless walls, she guessed, used to be white, but they were ruined now. Water damage stained the ceiling and plaster was falling off here and there. The walls were discolored in spots with things she didn’t want to identify.
But it was the metal door she couldn’t look away from. More specifically, the scratches on it, filled with rust and something she was pretty sure was dried blood.
Oh, God.
A sob ripped through her and she hid her face in Puck’s chest. “They’re going to kill us.”
---
They jumped when the lock unlatched hours later. Scrambled to their feet as Puck hid Quinn behind his back. Stiffened when two men walked in, ski masks on their faces and guns in their hands.
Quinn squeezed Puck’s arm in a silent plea to not do anything stupid and heroic. They’d kill him. She didn’t want to be alone.
“Come on,” the bigger one ordered, grabbing Puck’s wrist. He pressed the barrel to Puck’s back and nodded at his partner to do the same with a shaking Quinn.
They led them down the hall with cocked guns ready to shoot if they looked up from their feet. Pushed them into a dirty medical room where a third man stood in his own pair of dark scrubs. Unlike the others, he was unmasked, leaving his pale skin uncovered. Brown hair was pulled back into a scrub cap and matching eyes made Quinn’s stomach flip.
Neither of them fought as they were pushed onto metal tables and strapped down.
“Please,” she pleaded as their tops were cut away. “Please. My name is Quinn. He’s Puck. We’re only seventeen. We-”
“We aren’t going to kill you,” the doctor said, kind and crazed as he picked up a scalpel. “We’re gonna make history.”
---
Her stomach felt like it was on fire.
Quinn whimpered, blinking her eyes open. She was back in the room with the metal door.
Oh, God. Puck.
She wanted to spring to her feet, but the pain kept her flat on her back. She searched as far as she could without moving, eyes straining. Found him just barely in the corner of her eye, lying on the mattress. Fear gripped at her, terrified that he was dead. He was pale. So, so pale.
“Puck,” she whispered weakly. “Puck, wake up.”
No reply came and she forced back the tears that wanted to fall. Lifted up her shirt with a soft hiss and gasped, horrified at the stitched up incision on her stomach. It was healing. Looked like it had been for days.
How long had she been unconscious and lying on this floor?
Did the others know she and Puck were gone?
Were they looking?
Were they close to finding them?
“Puck?”
She closed her eyes and prayed.
---
Puck didn’t wake up for days. Or, at least, Quinn thought it was days. She had no way of telling time in this room. No windows meant no sunlight, just the dirty florescent light that flickered occasionally. The men only brought food once every so often, but it was never consistent. They came in with meds, too, but they refused to tell her how often they were supposed to be taken. She’d refused them the first day, but they forced her to swallow them down as they injected something into Puck.
By the time he did wake up, Quinn had healed enough that she could hobble painfully around the room. She still blushed, humiliated, any time she had to use the bucket.
When he finally groaned, Quinn thought she’d finally gone mad from the fear and silence. Dashed over as fast as she was able anyway and gripped his hand.
“Puck? Puck, wake up,” she pleaded, eyes tearing as he groaned again and his eyelids fluttered. “Oh, God. Puck. Puck, I’m right here. Come on. Open your eyes. Please open your eyes.”
She covered her mouth with a hand when he did and brown eyes finally opened.
“Quinn?” Puck grunted, looking confused for a minute, like he didn’t remember where he was or why she’d be with him. She knew the second the memories came back, watched as his face fell and caught the fear that flashed across his eyes before he hid it. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “They did something to us. Surgery. I don’t know what they did, but they keep giving us these meds and they won’t tell me why.”
“Why are you-”
“They made me the first time. It’s not poison or anything. I’ve been feeling better,” she said, just as confused as Puck looked. “I don’t know what they’re doing. I mean, I feel a little weird, like something’s missing, but...” She shrugged. “I don’t know, Puck. I just don’t know.”
The way he sagged against the thin pillow told her he didn’t either.
TBC
Chapter 2 >>