Glee 1. Abduction

**For those reading my other fics: Whoa. I found a computer. I can't believe it. So super excited! I'm on the other side of the world right now and sweating profusely haha. But anyway, while on the long plane ride, I thought of another plot bunny that I simply had to write. So now I'm typing this up as fast as I can and I'll get to "Together Through All Odds" soon! In the meantime, enjoy this new story :)**

**I also have emailed calhoun91. We both happened to have the same idea at the same time. I am not trying to copy her ideas and hopefully our plots will turn out to be different. I haven't read her story in order to prevent our stories from sounding the same. I can't wait to read hers after this one is finished though! I hope you won't judge if mine seems really similar. Thanks.**

**Super shout out to my super pen pal CeciltheGleek for coming up with the title of the story! And another super shout out to all you reading ;)**

**Disclaimer: Glee is not mine!**

Chapter One

_Abduction_

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Rachel Berry sat huddled against the wall in the dark, grimy corner in the attic of the Kleimans' home. The dust that covered the ground was so thick that the floor seemed to be made out of a plush carpet instead of hard wood. Rachel flinched as a spider quickly scuttled across the creaky wooden floorboards, crawling towards its webby home. Her eyes followed the creature, but she soon lost track of it once it disappeared into the shadows. After all, large planks of wood were hastily nailed over the otherwise dirty windows, preventing any source of light from seeping through.

There was a large wooden desk opposite the side where Rachel was sitting; during her hiding, she would often do some schoolwork at the desk so when everything returned to normal, as she knew it would, she would not lag behind in school. Rachel was determined to keep her grades as high as they once were. A little farther right from the desk laid an entrance to a small room that functioned as the family's bathroom. All in all, it was quaint reside but Rachel knew she was lucky to even be alive, not to mention have a secret hiding place.

Rachel's knees were bent and her arms were wrapped around them, pressing them closer to her chest. Rachel hoped that by squeezing herself, she would feel more at ease and secure but nothing could hide the fear bubbling inside of her. Her chest slowly heaved in and out, her breathing shallow as she was trying to be as quiet as humanly possible.

Hiram Berry pulled his daughter closer to his body, hoping that he would be able to calm her anxiety. He let Rachel lean her head on his shoulder, comforting her without even saying a word. Hiram's partner, Leroy Berry, sat by his side, one hand intertwined with Hiram's and another hand latched onto Rachel's. They sat in complete silence, listening intently on the voices coming from downstairs.

"We have reason to suspect that you are illegally harboring Jews in your home," a gruff voice said accusingly.

"I ensure you officer," Mr. Kleiman's unmistakable voice replied with no trace of hesitation, "There are no Jews in this apartment."

Mr. Kleiman. Rachel simply couldn't gush enough about him. Mr. Kleiman was practically her third father. When they first found out about the persecutions, Rachel's dads were at a lost about what exactly to do. Those who the Berrys believed to be their closest family friends had all turned them away at their most vulnerable moment; they had refused to allow them into their homes and warned to call the police if they were to come near them again. But the Kleimans took pity on the little family and worked endlessly to build them a secret compartment, an addition to their own home. Rachel was amazed and so thankful that the Kleimans were generous enough to put their own lives in jeopardy just to help them.

"Then I'm sure you wouldn't oppose a search of your home."

Rachel heard footsteps pounding downstairs, going from room to room. Judging by the loud commotion and the banging of furniture, Rachel guessed there were two soldiers scrambling around the apartment trying to find them. She hoped that the Nazis would forget to check the attic…or better yet, not realize there even was one.

But her hopes were dashed when she heard a voice behind the door leading into the attic. The entrance to the attic was disguised as a bookcase to prevent Nazis from discovering the hidden Jews; however, when one soldier hammered on the bookcase, he realized that it shook a little, revealing a small crack.

"Where does this lead?" He pointed to the tiny sliver between the off white colored wall and the edge of the bookcase.

"Nowhere, it's just a bookcase, promise. It's just a little old that's all."

Rachel cringed as the Nazis began to beat down the portal between the two rivals, using all of their brute force to open what she believed to be a securely locked room. She tensed up and realized her dad must have felt her sudden change in posture as he automatically held her closer, awaiting the inevitable.

The knocking became more violent, turning into thumping and hammering. Rachel wasn't sure if the secret door could hold up much longer. She squeezed her eyes shut, thinking that if her vision disappeared, the Nazis would too. But deep down in her heart, Rachel knew that was all wishful thinking.

_CRACK._

Under so much pressure and after absorbing blow after blow, strike after strike, the bookcase split open, splinters flying everywhere. The books on the shelves toppled over, creating a little mound of crumpled paper and ripped bindings on the ground. The Nazis didn't pay any attention to the mess they had created but instead focused their dark beady eyes on their victims.

Rachel had been right. She was staring straight into the piercing blue eyes of two tall Nazis, both with messy blonde hair. Their army green uniforms were immaculate, perfectly buttoned and without any creases. Both wore a red cloth around their upper arm, a swastika printed in black on each one, the symbol Rachel had come to fear.

She fearfully looked back at the golden Star of David which had been discarded on her desk. She had refused to wear it out of resent for the persecution of her people but now, with danger looming right in front of her, Rachel was afraid. She knew the consequences if Jews were found not wearing the Star, she heard the brutal stories.

"Get up!" one soldier barked.

Rachel felt her legs go weak; she couldn't stand if she tried. Her fathers shakily got to their feet beside her, motioning for her to do the same. They knew that if she didn't follow orders, she would face a punishment so cruel it would have her begging for death. Hiram gently tugged his daughter by the arm and Rachel found the strength to stand though she was still mostly leaning on her dad for support.

One Nazi suddenly ran forward, sharply yanking Rachel from out of her parents' grasp. He pinned her arms behind her back and pushed her so roughly towards the door that she was tripping over her own feet, stumbling across the attic floor. The other soldier grabbed Hiram and Leroy, shackling both of them in handcuffs before shoving them out the door. The Nazi kicked at the two of them, scoffing as he did so. After taking a harsh blow to the ribs, Leroy fell to his knees, buckling down in pain. Hiram instinctively moved to help him, but the handcuffs binding his hands together behind his back made it much more difficult.

Rachel heard an agonizing cry of agony come from behind her and whipped her head around just in time to see her father tumbling over. "Dad!" she cried out, helpless. Rachel desperately wanted to run back to her dad but the Nazi who was restraining her still jostled her forward, not even bothering to look back.

Hiram slowly rose to his feet as the Nazi began shouting orders at him and commanding him to hurry up. Leroy lightly bumped shoulders with Hiram as a way to console him, signaling to him that he would always be there for him. Hiram nodded slightly, giving a weak smile, as the two of them were rushed out the door.

Rachel was drowning in fear, falling head first into an abyss of darkness. She could barely catch her breath as she was thrust through the frame of what was left of the bookcase. Staggering over debris littering the ground, Rachel eventually reached the bottom of the stairs, her dads following close behind. Once at the bottom, the Nazi who had a hold on Rachel dug into the hidden pocket on his uniform, pulling out a shiny new black pistol.

Then everything happened faster than Rachel could comprehend it.

In one swift motion, the soldier raised the gun, aiming it directly at Mr. Kleiman who was making his way down the stairs with his hands held out in an effort to prevent the Nazis from going any farther. His finger tensed on the trigger for only a mere second before a deafening crack split through the air, a bullet sent rapidly spiraling towards its target. Rachel shrunk away on impulse, startled and frightened by the sudden boom. The Nazi, however, stood resolute and unafraid, hard and cold after years of training and experience. Rachel's eyes slowly followed the path of the small yet menacing bullet, and gasped in horror when she saw that it had reached its goal.

The bullet punctured through the flesh of Mr. Kleiman's forehead, blood trickling out in a crimson path, streaming down his face. Rachel saw his eyes roll to the back of his head and watched in dread as his eyelids shut for the very last time. Mr. Kleiman's knees suddenly gave way and his limp body tumbled down the stairs, his bloody head smacking the wall every third step. Rachel recoiled, her hand covering her gaping mouth, as the body rolled to a halt in front of her, his lifeless dull form facing her feet. She struggled to stand as the man's wound became much clearer; the bullet had bulldozed a clear path through his head, producing an exit wound so massive and gruesome that Rachel had to turn away in order to keep the contents of her stomach in place. Blood was now profusely gushing out of his head in rapid torrents, spilling freely onto the ground, creating a growing pool of dark red. A sharp shard of white bone gleamed amidst all of the blood and pieces of loose skin barely concealed what appeared to be the pink squishy remains of brain.

The Nazis gathered close to the body, prodding him with their feet in order to ensure the man was dead and spitting on him to show their contempt and lack of respect.

Biting back tears, Rachel closed her eyes shut with all her might but felt liquid slowly seeping out from the corner of her eyes.

_This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This isn't happening._

She repeated the phrase in her head, hoping to convince her brain that it had all been merely a dream. A dream that she would wake up from any second.

But it wasn't a dream.

It was her worst nightmare come to life.

Before she had the time to mourn or even come to the startling realization of the dark gravity of her situation, Rachel was forcefully pushed out the door and into the cold, suddenly deserted street. People outside had heard the loud gunshot and ran away, praying that they would not meet the same fate as poor Mr. Kleiman.

The Nazi hastily thrust her into the back seat of his car, Rachel bumping her head on the steel frame as she fell in. She felt her fathers toppling in after her and scooted over to give them more room. After hastily removing the handcuffs on Rachel's fathers, a soldier rammed the door closed and left the Berrys to wallow in their misery.

Rachel placed her palm on the side car window, futilely grasping at her neighborhood…her old neighborhood…her old way of life. She knew everything was going to change now. Everything was going to change for the worse. She watched as buildings, some of them secret ghettos, whiz by as the car sped forward. As a group of Jewish castaways lurked huddled under a shadowed cover, unnoticed by everyone except Rachel, she wondered what would happen if she hadn't been at Mr. Kleiman's. Maybe they wouldn't be in this mess...maybe he would still be alive…

Sadness and anger filled every inch of her body, as Rachel squeezed her eyes, tears forming faster than she could help it. She turned and jumped into her dads' open embrace, sobs racking her entire body. Leroy soothed his crying daughter, rubbing large circles on her back, while Hiram lovingly ran his fingers through her fair long hair. They stayed in this position for the whole car ride, savoring what would probably be their last time together.

If only they knew how much worse it was going to get…

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I'm really not sure if this type of story will gel with the public so I'm a little apprehensive about continuing it. I'd rather be cautious than write something that people might find distasteful, you know? Will you please review if you want to read more? :)**


	2. Recruitment

**Thanks for the reviews everyone! This chapter deals with Finn's past. I truly hope you all enjoy it :)**

**Disclaimer: Do I look like Ryan Murphy?**

Chapter 2

_Recruitment_

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Grabbing his neatly folded dark green uniform from his bed, Finn Hudson held it out in front of him, examining every square inch of fabric. He looked over the jacket with a careful eye, observing the golden buckles on the shoulders and the shiny copper buttons running down the middle in a perfectly straight line. Finn delicately stroked the edge of the front pocket in between his thumb and his index finger, carefully handling his most prized possession. As he was unfolding his uniform, he suddenly spotted a silver patch that had been sewed on the collar with a gentle hand. Smiling in a contemplative way, Finn rubbed his fingers over the patch so gingerly that one would have thought it was the most delicate and fragile object known to man. But that little patch represented everything to Finn; after all, it was the very reason he was proud to be a Nazi.

. . .

Half a year ago Finn had been just another guy, wandering the streets alone. He ran away from home after being transferred from rundown foster home to the next. Finn was sick of being just another burden, another mouth to feed. He had to face the truth, no matter how much it hurt: no one wanted him.

He'd known it ever since he was young. Only a week after his fifth birthday, Finn's father was called back by the army and shipped overseas for a top secret classified mission. Finn didn't mind much at the time; he admired his dad for being so brave and strong. The boy took much pride in proclaiming to the world that his dad was a superhero, at least in his eyes.

However, when Finn turned six, he saw his mother Carole sitting in the living room, by his dad's special chair. She was clutching a letter tightly with one hand and furiously wiping away her tears with the other after seeing Finn stumble into the room. He immediately ran over to his mom, curious as to why she was crying because as far as he knew, mothers were not supposed to cry. And then she broke the news to him. His dad was dead. Finn spent hours locked in his bedroom, bawling uncontrollably, asking God to bring his dad back. He pleaded towards the invisible force, folding his intertwined hands into ball and shaking them at the sky, tremors jolting his fragile little body.

"Please," he had begged between sobs, "I miss my daddy so much." After his crying had subsided into hiccups and sniffles, Finn gently climbed onto his bed, curling his body up into a ball, and whispered, "I just want my daddy back. I need you daddy. Please come back."

But nothing had happened. His dad was dead. There was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

And, as if little Finn's life couldn't get any worse, it did.

Carole had been driving one morning with Finn sitting in the front seat, happily munching on some pieces of candy. She had to go run some errands and, feeling unsafe about letting Finn stay at home alone (who knew what that boy could do by himself!), took him along for the ride.

Being the rambunctious eight year old that he was, Finn jostled around in his seat, pretending that he was a superhero flying around the world at lightning speed. Making quick 'whooshing' sounds, Finn raised his arms in front of him and swerved from side to side, spit flying from out his mouth in all different directions. In reality the car was barely cruising above twenty miles per hour but that didn't matter to Finn. He was ridding the world of evil, and eating sweets at the same time! It was the best of both worlds.

As Finn popped another piece of candy into his mouth and began jerking uncontrollably in the front seat, Carole had enough.

"Finn, you stop that now," she warned, "You're going to hurt yourself."

But Finn paid no attention to his mother's admonition. Instead, he continued his reckless behavior, this time making action noises as he fake battled a giant monster terrorizing the helpless citizens of Finnville.

"Finn," Carole disapproved, "What did I just sa-"

Carole was abruptly cut off as another car suddenly came barreling towards them at high speed and slammed into the side of her automobile. She heard the loud crunching of metal and the shattering of glass as the car rammed right into her ribs. Both of her arms were thrown haphazardly over her head and her legs were crushed by the tangled mess of what used to be the dashboard and car engine. She felt like she had been hit repeatedly with a sledgehammer, excruciating pain spreading throughout her body.

Someone's shrill screech rang in her ears, shocking her and alarming her to the situation. Another tormented shriek tore through the silence, and, it wasn't until she saw the damaged, concaved walls of the car that she realized with horror that the blood curdling scream was rising from her own throat. She tried biting back the urge to cry in complete agony but the stabbing sensation was too much. A loud wail escaped her lips as a new wave of pain washed over her.

As she struggled to open her eyelids, Carole glanced over at her mangled lower body which was so mutilated that she couldn't even distinguish her legs from her waist. She was terribly afraid, painfully squeezing her eyes shut in a useless attempt to erase the image from her memory. But, as soon as she thought of Finn, a protective maternal instinct instantly took over. With one great heave, she managed to twist her head to get a good look at her baby boy.

Finn sat silent and still in his seat, completely unmoving except for the small up and down heaves of his chest, almost as if he were in a peaceful slumber. A long gash ran across his forehead, a fresh trickle of blood streaming out in a steady path, coloring his brown hair red. Tiny mounds of various colored candies were scattered around his bruised body; luckily, Finn had finished swallowing at the time of the crash. Broken shards of cracked glass lay embedded in his skin and his left arm was bent at an odd angle. For the most part, however, Finn seemed to have escaped the majority of the impact.

Slightly at ease that her son was mostly unharmed, Carole let out a huge breath of relief—one that she didn't even realize she was holding. Oh, how desperately she longed to reach out to Finn, to stroke her son, to comfort him! But she could barely feel her arms let alone move them. She felt her limbs suddenly fall limp, her body tingling with a strange numbing sensation. She could even make out sirens blaring in the background though they were significantly deafened for some reason.

As the seconds ticked by, Carole struggled to stay awake. Her eyelids fluttered weakly, and slowly began to close. In a vain effort to sneak in one more peek at her son, her only son, Carole Hudson unwillingly gave up, succumbing to Death, and was completely enveloped in darkness for the final time.

Finn woke up in the hospital later that very day, uneasy of his new surroundings. Footsteps pounded against the hard wood paneled floor every couple of minutes as nurses came to check on the boy who, unbeknownst to them, was feigning sleep. When Finn dared to open his eyes, he noticed that the walls were streaked with pasty white paint, giving the place a strange, empty feel. These giant walls were the only things that confined him to a rather large room with only a few windows where light could seep through. Luckily, Finn's bed was located right under one. He would stare out of the window constantly, counting down the seconds until his mom would pick him up. He was, after all, just visiting, right?

There were other child patients staying in the same room as he was. Lining the edges of the walls were different sized cribs and mattresses, some holding crying infants, others squashed under the crushing weight of jumping kids. He had never seen so many children before in his life, all bottled up in the same room, all wearing the same itchy white clothing with the same annoying casts holding their arms taut.

Hours passed, then days, and even weeks. Finn felt like a lost little bird, waiting for his mom to show up any moment to comfort him and take him home.

But she never came.

Instead, after his small wounds had finished healing, Finn was transferred to a new home, with new so called parents. A foster home.

Finn absolutely hated this new life that complete strangers carved out for him. Having lost both of his parents at such a young and tender age, he wasn't open to new people like the other children. He stayed close to himself, never saying a word to anyone. Growing increasingly isolated, Finn distanced himself from all of the other children and adults both physically and mentally. After being unwillingly catapulted into this new environment, he was not open to anyone who even tried to talk to him. The deaths of his parents took a devastating toll on the young boy, turning the fun loving and usually reckless kid into a mute and abandoned child. It was as if someone had flipped the switch on him and changed the very basis of who Finn Hudson was.

But what frustrated him the most was that no one ever even acknowledged his real parents anymore—it was as if they had never even existed. Didn't they get it? He didn't want to be trapped in another stupid foster home! He wanted his parents back! And these substitute parents were nothing, absolutely nothing, like his _real _mother and father. They were just wannabees, Finn thought, nothing more than scummy low lives who were intent on ruining the rest of his life.

So here he was, desperately running away from his past and leaving it all behind. Now seventeen years of age, Finn Hudson strolled down the street with merely a backpack full of essentials to satisfy his needs. His head was down, his hands were stuffed in his pockets, and, all in all, he looked awfully glum to everyone who walked past him, echoing his inner emotional state. Muttering incoherent phrases about his last foster home under his breath, Finn strutted along the edge of the sidewalk, with no idea where he was going. And to be honest, he didn't care. At all. He simply wanted to get away.

Finn kicked at the dirty gray pebbles scattered on the ground, a plume of dust erupting in the air with every strike. Quickly bored with scuffing up the tip of his shoes, Finn focused his newfound attention on the bustling streets of Germany. Cars zoomed past him at lightning speed while businessmen roamed the streets, lugging around briefcases as they went.

Finn's eyes landed on a man roughly in his thirties, standing in front of the curb, ready to dash into the traffic in order to get across the street. There was something about the man that caught his attention-maybe it was the cleanly pressed uniform or maybe it was the way he stood, tall and in control. Either way, Finn found himself staring at the man who did not realize he was being watched.

Deep in his own thoughts, the man had looked only to his left before he began to cross the dangerous street, unaware of the oncoming car speeding towards him on the right. As the man recklessly took a step forward, Finn immediately sprung into action, his legs taking long strides, his arms whipping back and forth by his side. He moved faster than he ever had before, his mind not even thinking of the possible consequences. Dashing towards the street, Finn abruptly shoved the shocked and slightly oblivious man aside, his elbow merely scraping the metal frame of the car rapidly racing by. The man crumpled to the ground, using his hands to soften the blow. As the car whipped past, almost smacking him in his head, he turned around to see Finn towering above him and sat there in a stunned silence, wide eyed at this young boy's miraculous save.

Brushing his sweaty palms on his pants, Finn reached out a hand to help the man, who was still a little dazed and disoriented, up.

"Oh thank you young man," the stranger said, shaking Finn's hand violently as if Finn had won the Nobel Prize in order to express his immense gratitude.

"It's no big deal," Finn replied, shaking his head.

"Of course it's a big deal!" the man exclaimed, frazzle and yet strangely excited. He stood there for second as if he was pondering something. Finn raised his eyebrows in suspicion, clueless as to why the man suddenly turned mute. But then the man spoke again in a soft voice, "You know, we could really use your sharp reflexes in our party…"

And before he knew it, Finn was enrolled in the Nazi Party. It turned out that the man he just saved was actually a high ranked general who was looking for more recruits. After learning that the man was General Arthur Fritzsche, one of the many concentration camp commandants, Finn found himself enveloped in the new and bizarre world of being a Nazi.

Being in the party, it gave him a purpose, a sense of belonging, something he felt that was always missing. Over time, Finn got used to the constant degrading of the Jews, the unremitting jeers and snide remarks. Because he was always in an environment where these so called Jewish cretins were abhorred and disgusted, Finn felt no shame in joining in the fun. Why should he not? After all, he didn't believe in a god anymore. Not after how he tore his parents away from him. Thus, Finn devoted his life to the party because it was the only thing he had left. Even beating the pitiful little worms to a pulp didn't break him down. In fact, on bad days, Finn derived most of his pleasure from his job. Guilt was practically unheard of as the weeks and months rolled by. And then sooner, rather than later, Finn received his silver trimmed patch which to him officially signified his entrance into the SS.

He was a bona fide Nazi.

And proud of it.

. . .

After he finished examining his uniform, Finn hastily threw it over his body while running over to the other side of the room to gather his polished boots.

"Come over here Finn!" General Fritzsche called to him, waving the boy over. The general had taken a rather fond liking to his young protégé, so much in fact that Finn knew everything there was to know about being a Nazi from him.

The young soldier eagerly ran towards the general, "Yes sir?"

"Now, I don't say this often but I've taken a liking to you."

Finn grinned, already aware of the general's attitude towards him.

"Well needless to say you've been improving tremendously and I'd like to give you a challenge. You're going to be deported to help maintain those concentration camps. More specifically, the area of the camp for the delinquents. I think you can handle it. You've already proven yourself worthy. So what do you say boy?"

Finn could barely contain his delight when he realized that he was actually considered to be good at something. Beaming with pride, he knew he had the ability to keep the filthy Jews in line. Eagerly rising to the challenge, Finn bellowed out with sheer confidence,

"I'm ready for whatever you give me sir!"

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**I hope you were okay with conflicted!Finn. Don't worry, he'll slowly evolve into that goofy Finn we all have grown to love. It will just require some time and one very special person. ;) ****I don't particularly like how I structured this chapter to be a flashback within a flashback. I can only hope it came across okay. :) And apologies in advance for any historically false information. **

**Oh and since I feel extra, extra sorry about the delay, here's a little sneak peek of the next chapter!**

**The title you ask? "_Degradation_".**

**The plot? It may or may not involve some sass coming from a certain Berry. ;)**


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Glee, Angst, Tragedy