While 600,000 people marched on Washington to protest the war, two college students huddled together in the lobby of a dorm building in Ohio awaiting a letter. Blaine knew the mail usually arrived on Saturdays between noon and three, but couldn't pull himself away from the building until Kurt's next letter arrived. He had promised to write, and Blaine couldn't even begin to ponder the letter not arriving that day. He knew it usually took a few days for their correspondences to make their way to each other. He knew that some letters took longer than others did. He knew that even if Kurt wrote him the day after posting the last letter, (and he knew Kurt well enough to know he wouldn't break a promise) it didn't guarantee that the letter wouldn't be held up somewhere along the way. Knowing all this, he still couldn't face leaving until he had the letter in hand; he couldn't bring himself to think it wouldn't be here today. He couldn't, because if it didn't come today, without mail service on Sundays, it would be Monday before he would have Kurt's words in his hands.

All night the image of Kurt's tear stained face drifted in and out of his dreams. He just needed to know that Kurt found some peace. He could find hope again, if only he didn't have to think about Kurt in the state that he was in while he was writing that last letter. After a fitful night's sleep, Blaine had made his way down to the lobby of his dorm determined to sit vigil until the mailman came. He was relieved to find Judy waiting for him already, a stack of plain toast and black coffees in hand. He stomach churned at the thought of putting anything into it, but Judy insisted he had to eat; finally resorting in telling him Kurt wouldn't want him making himself sick before he relented and nibbled on one slice.

They sat in silence all morning as other students flitted in and out chattering happily, unaware of the turmoil in their midst. Blaine rang his hands, anxious for something to do. His guitar sat upstairs in his room, silent. Blaine didn't want to play music, didn't want any excuse for others to draw near. Judy sat beside him, one gentle hand resting on his back, a silent reminder that she was there and she understood as best as anyone he knew what he was going through. A clock ticked overhead, counting down the seconds that passed. Blaine's eyes kept drifting to his bag that lay at their feet. Inside a letter was nestled in an envelope waiting only for one more response to be added. Blaine knew that Kurt would be waiting to hear from him, but he needed to read the promised letter before he could send it off. Blank paper and a pen joined Blaine's letter in the bag, ready to be used.

Around lunchtime, Judy began to speak, only to be cut off by a sharp shake of Blaine's head. The lobby was free of most students by that point, off with friends or in the library. Still the clock ticked and the two waited. Each time the door opened two heads would shoot up to spy the new arrival. Eventually one head continued to hang though, mind filling with words tear splashed across a page.

Blaine soon lost himself, mind turning to Kurt, wondering what he was doing at that moment. He envisioned him, dull eyed, working mechanically through some task or another or sitting in a classroom, eyes bloodshot a puffy, tears leaking unbidden. He longed to reach out and hold the man, who should always be smiling and bright. He wished them back to the loft. It would be cold now; no longer would they have the excuse of the heat to strip themselves. Instead, the chill would lead them wrapped up in each other to stay warm. He could almost feel Kurt's arms wrapped around him, could nearly hear him whispering in his ear. Blaine would turn around and slot their lips together in a playful kiss.

He was torn from his musing, finally filled with happiness, by a shaking at his shoulder. He looked up to see the mailman dropping a stack of letters on the dorm mother's desk. Before she could even reach for them, Blaine was up in a flash. Mrs. Johnson looked up in surprise as Blaine's hands smacked down on the desk as he tried to keep himself from toppling over his own feet in his haste. She had just opened her mouth to chastise him when Blaine spoke. "I'm sorry. I just... I've been waiting... Please is there a letter for me?"

She looked him over, clearly trying to recall his name before she gave a soft smile, "Anderson, right?" She asked.

"Yes ma'am, Blaine Anderson." He told her as she flipped through the stack in her hand. He couldn't see the envelopes well enough to know if it was there. He bounced nervously on the balls of his feet, silently willing her to go faster. Her smile was answer enough before she handed over a familiar looking envelope.

"Thank you, thank you so much." He hastily told her as he greedily snatched the letter from her hand. Heading without much thought back up to his dorm room. Mrs. Johnson had seen him sitting in the lobby for most of the day, saw Judy offering comfort though Blaine hardly acknowledged her, she recognized the army issue envelope having seen many pass through her hands in recent years; so when Judy rushed up the stairs after him his bag thrown over her shoulder, she didn't say a word. She didn't think the two were going to get into trouble, not while worrying about a friend.

Blaine registered the fact that Judy was following him up the stairs and waited for her to enter before closing his dorm room door behind him. For once, he didn't just rip open the letter but rather weighed it in his hand contemplating it for a moment. He jerked his head up when Judy asked, "Do you want me to open it?"

Blaine shook his head both in answer and to try to rid himself of his nerves. "No, I can do it," he finally said turning the envelope over. "Just give me a minute."

He sat down heavily on his bed while Judy sat in the chair drawing her legs up under her and glued her eyes on her friend. Blaine grabbed a pillow and hugged it to him, before taking a deep breath and ripping the paper open.

November 9, 1969

Most loved and amazing B,

I wish you were here with me right now. Well not here, I wouldn't wish you here; but beside me, holding me, loving me. I know if I could have had your arms yesterday, they probably wouldn't have sent me to the infirmary. Don't worry, nothing's wrong, not really. The guys were just worried I was having a break down. I have to say, I am better now. I am still not thrilled by the prospect of going to war, but I'm calm.

One of the nurses talked to me, he just got back from his tour a couple of months ago. I think it gave me a little hope seeing him here and in one piece. He is a conscientious objector as well and he gave me some good advice. He said 'Remember, you are going over there to save lives not end them. Keep that as your mantra and you should be fine.' Now I'm not sure if that will work, after all a mantra can't deflect bullets or worse; but I think those are the words I need to remember to keep my mind safe. At least I am over there to do good.

As nice as it was to talk to Curtis, I would have much rather talked with you. I miss hearing your voice; I think it is my favorite sound. I don't care if you are singing, talking or moaning (oh the sounds you make!) I could listen to you all day. I can't wait until I can again. I miss your mind; you are so smart and you don't try and hid that part away, how you make me think about things in a different way, but also how you are not afraid to reanalyze some things when someone shows you a different point of view. I miss you eyes; the way you look at me, how they sparkle when you are happy, how dark they get when you are feeling particularly frisky, how when I look at them I feel like I can see a deeper part of you. I miss your hair; running my fingers through it, watching you shake those beautiful curls out of your eyes when you are playing your guitar, how they brush my face when you are over me. I miss your mouth; that beautiful smile of yours, the way you bite your lip when you are being bashful, they way they feel against mine (or all over my body). I miss your arms; how muscular they have gotten working beside me, how protected and loved I feel when you hold me, the way the muscles and veins shift when you are playing, watching the muscles strain as you try and hold yourself up while hovering above me. I miss you heart; lying with my head upon your chest and listening to it beat, (especially the frantic beat as we lay spent) how loving and caring you are to everyone, how you care what other people think. I miss the more intimate parts of you (which for safety and propriety I will not list, but you know what I am talking about); you are beautiful and perfect and I am so glad you have allowed me to share those parts with you. I just miss all of you; you are the most amazing person I know and I am honored that you let me love you.

I want you to know how much I miss you, because you are amazing and I can't bear the thought that something might happen to me and you not know how I feel. So, I will try to remind you with every letter, just how much you mean to me. I love you for all that you are and all that you will be. I hope to hear from you soon. You are always on my mind.

All my loving,

K

P.S. We got our pictures today. I know I look completely different but being away from you has made me realize that in all our time together I don't remember taking any pictures. I thought you might want to have it. I would love to have a picture of you, your friend Judy too so I can put a face to the name in the wonderful stories you tell about her. I know cameras and film can be expensive, so if you can't swing it no worries, I just miss your face. Love you

Blaine looked in the envelope once more and sure enough, there was a wallet-sized photo lingering there. He pulled it out and tears immediately sprang to his eyes. There was Kurt; the picture was only from his shoulders up, his haircut so short you couldn't even glimpse it under his hat, in full uniform in front of a grey background. The drab green was nothing like the bright colors Blaine was used to seeing him in, and it was too small to see his beautiful stormy eyes, but to Blaine it was precious. He held it to his heart for a minute, smiling through his tears, because here was proof that Kurt Hummel exists. Blaine couldn't keep his eyes off it for long though, he studied ever line, dip, and curve of that beautiful face he knew so well.

Judy sat and watched Blaine as he read. As his eyes darted across the page, a faint blush colored his cheeks. She didn't think he was aware of the smile that bloomed there as well. It surprised her when he pulled something out of the envelope and tears wetted his cheeks though the smile never faded. Finally he spoke. "Do you want to see him?" He asked his voice soft, breaking a bit at the end. Instead of answering, Judy joined him on the bed. "When he left his hair was much longer, down to his shoulders. It was beautiful, golden brown and soft. You can't really tell here, but he has the most amazing eyes; they're blue and grey, sometimes green and gold. His eyes always gave away what he was thinking." Blaine told her as she studied the picture.

"He's stunning." She said, a smile playing on her face. "What did he say?"

Blaine ducked his head and bashfully handed the letter over before moving to his desk to write his newest letter. While Blaine poured out his heart on the page, Judy read.

Once the envelope was sealed and stamped, Judy rode with Blaine to the post office to mail it away. Blaine let her take the letter inside; hoping her more respectable and feminine good looks would ensure the letter was not delayed by any underlying prejudice. As soon as she joined him, they made their way to the five and dime. Not only did they buy a camera and film, they also bought one for Kurt, and the beginnings of a care package. Judy had told him how much they meant to Howard and his fellow soldiers to receive special things from home. Blaine knew that he couldn't get everything he wanted to send Kurt at that one store, but he bought what he could.

Sunday, the pair spent the day together taking pictures to send to Kurt. They went to the different places on campus that they liked best, hoping to show Kurt the places he talked about so often in his notes. Blaine posed with his guitar on the deserted quad mimicking those many days gone by when he tried to distract himself. Before long, one roll was already spent, but Blaine knew he had more things to photograph and send to Kurt. He finally breeched the subject with Judy as they sat in the cafeteria eating lunch.

"I need to go to the farm." He told her bluntly, cutting her off from her rant about her math class. She eyed him for a moment taking another bite of her sandwich before speaking.

"Kurt's farm?" She asked.

Blaine nodded, suddenly feeling nervous though he wasn't sure why.

"And why do you feel that way?" She asked.

Blaine felt like he was being analyzed, as if she were his psychiatrist instead of his friend. "I want to pick up some things to send in his care package and I thought he might like some pictures of Quinn, Beth and Puck or anyone else that may be there."

Judy's face maintained it's seriousness for a moment, "you said you needed; now you say you want. Which is it a Blaine." Then she smiled.

"You're messing with me!?" Blaine exclaimed throwing a French fry at her face. "After this weekend you're seriously messing with me. Geez Judy I thought you were about to tell me I was messed in the head."

"You mean besides..." Judy said indicating towards Blaine in general.

"Yes, thank you Miss Pot." Blaine replied with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

Before heading to the farm together, Blaine stopped at the butchers. Judy gave him another questioning look, "I thought you didn't eat meat."

Blaine smiled a little, "I don't but Quinn and Puck do, so I thought I might sweeten the deal before I asked to take some of their food."

It felt weird driving back to the farm and knowing Kurt wouldn't be there. Blaine grew quiet as they neared the place. The radio played out low, while Blaine prepared himself for the reality that Kurt would not be up in his loft painting. On autopilot, Blaine pulled onto the long driveway, spying the old farmhouse that used to seem like home.

Puck was out the door as soon as Blaine's car was in park, striding over to them with a huge grin on his face. "Anderson! I didn't think we would be seeing you anymore," he enthused before noticing Judy exiting the car. His smile disappeared and he looked sharply at Blaine. "Who's that?" He asked voice cold, "your girlfriend?"

With that one word, the change in Pucks demeanor became clear. "No, man, this is my friend Judy, she knows all about Kurt."

It didn't take long for Puck to soften, but then return to the crass individual Blaine knew and loved. "Since you don't seem to care who he's fucking, maybe we could..."

Judy shook her head and cut him off saying, "sorry you've got the wrong equipment."

Puck didn't seem bothered, "damn, can't blame a guy for tryin'."

Little seemed to have changed on the farm in the three months since Blaine had been away. Puck led them into the house and into the kitchen. Blaine watched as Judy took in the vibrant colors on the wall, reveling in her apparent approval. Quinn was sitting at the table watching as Beth toddled around it clutching the chairs with her hands. Blaine couldn't believe how much she has grown in such a short time. Quinn greeted him with less enthusiasm than Puck, but it was a lot warmer than he was used to from her.

Blaine presented them with the various meats he picked up for them, earning him a bear hug from Pick and a small smile from Quinn. It wasn't hard after that to get what he needed from them. He excused himself from the group, after Judy had taken several shots with them around the farm. He left her chatting amicably with the others.

The loft felt hollow now. No longer was Kurt's life filling the room. It was now silent, a thin layer of dust coating everything showing the passage of time so clearly. Blaine planned to linger, to take in the place that used to be such a huge reminder of Kurt; but looking on the neglected space brought a new ache to his heart. What would it look like in a year when Kurt would finally, hopefully get some leave. Blaine stalled his brain from thinking of the possibility of a longer absence. This wasn't the same pain the space brought him as he waited all those days ago when Kurt first left the farm; there was finality to it that wasn't there before. Instead of taking in everything that spoke of Kurt, Blaine hurried to a box to leaf inside. When he came upon a fairly new sketch pad, he tucked it under his arm. Blaine grabbed a few newer pencils and met his friends outside.

It wasn't long before Blaine and Judy had to go, excusing themselves so they could make curfew. Blaine for once did not look back as he drove away. He didn't feel like he was leaving Kurt or any part of him behind. Kurt was now housed firmly in his heart and in the words splattered across paper.