Blaine was happy to be back on campus after the tension of being home for the holidays. His father had not been pleased when Blaine showed him his grades. It was not the grades themselves than Mr. Anderson had found displeasing but the classes in which Blaine received said grades. Luckily, Cooper was there and backed Blaine's lie about freshman not being allowed to take core classes for their major. His father had huffed around complaining about the school wasting his money with silly filler classes like Creative Writing. The tension hadn't let up the rest of his time there.

Blaine had made it out to Lima to visit Mrs. Hudson again. She seemed to appreciate his presence in the absence of her own sons. Blaine just felt an even deeper longing to see Kurt and make sure everything was all right.

Kurt's letters had done little to sooth him since his arrival in Vietnam. Blaine tried to do what he could to help from half a world away. Sending words of encouragement and love, sending food that Kurt could carry with him on patrol or keep by his bunk, were all he could think to do to help even a little bit.

The stress of having someone he loved in constant danger, of never knowing when or if he would hear from Kurt again were taking its toll on Blaine. He wasn't sleeping and what little sleep he did get was interrupted by soon forgotten nightmares. While he might not have remembered their content, the feeling of dread and heartache connected to them lingered as he tried to will his body to sleep. Being in a new set of classes and getting to spend time with Judy again were helping. He could confide in Judy, he knew she understood like no one else. He knew he could have talked to Puck or Quinn but he couldn't bring himself to go to the farm again without Kurt there.

Blaine lived for Kurt's letters. He did things to occupy his time as he waited. It was worse than when Kurt was merely in boot camp, or stationed in Texas, now each letter was filled with some horror that had happened. Blaine held his breath each time he tore open a letter, only releasing it after he understood Kurt was not the one hurt. In between, he tried to busy himself with varying degrees of success. Judy helped a lot; together they distracted their minds from the fate of their loved ones. They found a small group of like-minded individuals, others who disagreed with the war. Both Blaine and Judy were quick to defend those fighting, knowing all too well that just because you donned a uniform didn't mean you agreed with the cause, that sometimes you just didn't have a choice.

They were leaving such a meeting one night in early March. Blaine was telling Judy in hushed tones that it had almost been a year since he had met Kurt. She was laughing at the goofy love struck look on his face and pushing his shoulder as they stepped through the door to her dorm room. Blaine was about to retort when he saw confusion cross her face, he turned in the direction and saw an older man standing at the dorm mothers desk.

"Dad?" She asked as she walked towards the man. She stopped though after a couple of steps and her confusion turned to concern. "What's wrong? I know that face, I know you better than anyone does. Something is wrong what is it?"

Mr. Rudd could only open his mouth before shutting it quickly. He was clearly loathed to say whatever had brought him here. "Is it mom? Is it Howard?" Judy's voice broke with the second question and her father closed the distance taking her in his arms. From his spot still frozen near the door he could hear Mr. Rudd whisper, "oh god, I'm sorry baby"

Judy's cries filled the room. Later they found out that Howard had been shot while on patrol in a small village but died in flight to the hospital. Later they learned he took the shot trying to save a small child's life. Later they learned the child was unharmed but her whole family had been killed that day. They learned all this later but in that moment all they knew was that a brave young man who never wanted to fight, who dreamed of being a teacher, died far away from those he loved.

Judy insisted that she stay on campus until the morning to inform her teachers of the reason for her absence. Blaine argued he could do that for her. Her father argued that her mother needed her home. Judy however could not be dissuaded.

Time crept by as they waited for Howard's funeral. Kurt's letters were taking longer to arrive, a postal strike hampering all mail service. Judy remained stoic when she returned to campus after spending a week at home with her parents. Her laughter was harder to come by, but she refused to cry, at least in front of Blaine. Even at the funeral, with Blaine by her side the tears stayed at bay. Blaine stood in front of the flag draped casket of a man he only knew from stories tears flowing down his face, not caring what others thoughts of his unmanly display, unable to keep from imagining another figure sealed away forever. He held Judy, as she stared dry eyed while her brother was lowered into the ground and her mother was presented with the flag. Judy begged him to go back to school as the large group of people mingled around the grave, not sure what to do with themselves now that Howard Rudd was buried in the ground.

"Please Blaine, go home, and write to Kurt. Tell him how much you love him, please for me." Judy said her voice breaking but her eyes remaining dry.

Blaine gave in and climbed in his car. As he drove, music playing in the background, his mind was filled of another funeral. He could see Mrs. Hudson clutching a flag as a casket was lowered in the ground, he saw Puck and Quinn holding each other, little Beth between them, saw people met briefly long ago in varying states of distress. He couldn't clear his image of this waking nightmare, his thoughts spiraling out of control. A voice, a phrase broke through the storm in his mind, "Let it be."

Blaine turned up the radio hearing those almost familiar words. "And when the broken hearted people living in the word agree, there will be an answer let it be." He knew the voice; for years he had listened to the Beatles, he would know them anywhere. His mind went back in time, to a hand on his face urging him to let be, and his tears eased. He let the rest of the song wash over him as he drove the rest of the way to Kent. With a jolt, he realized that he had known Kurt a year. One year since Kurt had changed his life. In his dorm he sat down and wrote everything to Kurt, the funeral, his thoughts, the song, but most of all his love. Pages were filled before he knew it and the ache in his heart eased a little more.

Weeks passed slowly as Blaine tried to keep his hope alive. He played his guitar more as the weather warmed, 'Let It Be' becoming a familiar favorite of his. Kurt's letters were still trickling in slowly but their presence was enough to remind Blaine that for now he was safe. Late April, another letter arrived.

April 20, 1970
My sweet and beautiful B,
The most amazing thing happened today. We were just coming in from patrol, a fairly quiet one and no one had been injured, so I was already in a good mood. We were heading back to our bunks when this little Vietnamese woman came running into the camp yelling "Doc." The guys were still a bit antsy and raised their guns; I gently placed my hands on Billings and reminded him she had already gotten through the guards. I couldn't really understand her, I have been working with our translator to pick up some of the language, but she was talking too fast for me to catch. All I knew was that she needed help. Billings, Kim and I ended up following her to the village not too far from our base.

Billings walked in to the small house first, sure it was a trap, but when I stepped around I saw her, a girl, maybe our age, probably younger, was lying sweating on a pallet on the floor. It wasn't hard to figure out what was wrong. Her belly was swollen with life. Kim finally got more from the woman than that she needed help, her daughter had been in labor for almost two days, and she was worried something was wrong.

I have never delivered a baby; I wasn't even there when Beth was born, Quinn adamant that there be no men even in the house when she gave birth assisted by Rachel, Mercedes and a friend of theirs who was a midwife. They didn't teach us about this in training either, you don't have to worry about childbirth in combat. But, I was the only one who could help. I had to, of course, look down there, another first for me. It was amazing, if not a bit strange, you could see her opening up for the baby and dark hair pushed against the opening, not yet big enough to emerge. I sat with her, Anh, and tried to calm her down. I talked to her, and surprisingly she knew more English than her mother. She told me the father was a G.I. who had been killed six months ago.

After a few hours she said she had to push, it was too much. It was absolutely amazing, after a few pushes the head began to inch its way out. Two more pushes and the sweetest, if not slightly pointy, head popped out. I helped ease the baby out and then she was there. It was the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. It's a girl. Her name is Be, it means doll, I had told Anh about you, at least what I could reveal. She said it was a beautiful name. So, you have a name sake of sorts here in Vietnam.

For once, I was part of bringing life into this world, not just trying to stave off death. It was amazing, beautiful, and exhilarating. I may have cried a bit, but Billings did too so no one will think less of me. I do feel a little sad that we will never have that. I would love to be a father, but we both know that won't happen, not unless I want to live a lie. In the end, my happiness with you outweighs that desire.

We only have one short patrol next week and then we will have two weeks off patrolling. They have been sending us out more recently because Charlie Company received too many injuries lately and lost quite a few men. They should be up in numbers soon so we will get a break.

Keep safe for me; I need something to come home to. I love you more than you could know.

All my loving,
K

The letter was just the reminder that Blaine needed that there was still good in the world. Yes, young men died fighting for a cause they never believed in, but life still happened. Somewhere a new baby was being born, somewhere two people were falling in love, sometimes two lovers are reunited; Blaine had to remember this and keep hope alive. When he saw Judy the next day, he shared the letter with her, and she gave him her first genuine smile since her father showed up at school.

While Blaine and Judy started finding a sort of inner peace, unrest began building at Kent state. April 30th President Nixon announced the invasion of Cambodia. He had promised while campaigning to end the war, not to invade yet another country. Blaine was not the only student who was outraged by this news. All over campus that night, people were talking about it. They weren't just mummers of dissent, they were plans for a protest and organized demonstration.

The next morning Blaine, Judy and over 500 other students stood on the grassy commons on which Blaine frequently played his guitar. The students were angry. Blaine was one of them, it was bad enough that Kurt was over there, trying to piece together his friends; it was bad enough Howard had died over there, how many more young men were posed to die before Nixon finally obeyed his promise. He began playing protest songs on his guitar encouraging others to join in. Hearing the large group lift their voices in song to his guitar made Blaine feel more alive than he had in months. A man near him pulled out a piece of paper, his draft card, and without hesitation lit it on fire, holding it high above his head. A man across the way held up another paper, he yelled since Nixon had no respect for the constitution so they should just be rid of it and lit that too.

The anger in the group was palpable. Blaine could feel the energy sparking around him. Judy yelled with everyone else to bring the war home, not to kill anymore of our young men. He finally felt like he was doing something, as if his actions were making a difference. He was finally a part of the resistance, and that they would be heard. Blaine for once in is life felt powerful.

They stood there for a couple of hours, raising their voices. When the crowd began to disperse, Blaine heard people talking about protesting again on Monday. As they walked to class, Blaine and Judy agreed they would be there at whatever the cost.

The next morning Blaine woke to talks of an escalation the night before. Drunken men had apparently began throwing bottles at cars and it ended with over a hundred people setting a bonfire in the street before police had tear gassed them to going home. He also heard rumors that many were planning another protest that night. It was after ten by the time they found the group; flames led them to the meeting place. Blaine was horrified to see a building on campus burning. It was the ROTC building. Blaine didn't agree with the war, and he wanted to think of himself as a nonviolent person, but he believed that if a student wanted to be a part of ROTC then he had no say in that. Wasn't that the main problem Blaine had with this whole affair, people choices were being taken from them? He didn't join the crowd in cheering the burning, but watched in silence as the flames rose ever higher. Judy was more enthusiastic though, she cheered along with the others and even threw a few stones when the firemen arrived to quell the blaze. At this point Blaine knew something needed to stop, he grabbed Judy's arm before she could lob another object at the men.

"What?" Judy said in exasperation.

Blaine looked at her with sad eyes, "they are just doing their job, Judy, leave them in peace."

He watched as Judy rolled her eyes before dropping the stone. "They should just let it burn," she mumbled, "for all we know that building is churning out more baby killers."

"Was that what Howard was? Kurt?" Blaine tried to reason with her as his anger rose.

"Of course not," Judy grumbled," but they didn't choose to go, they didn't choose that life."

"And nothing is to say that the men in there will either. Not all soldiers are cold-blooded killers; some just want to keep the country safe. I support the soldiers not the war." Blaine tried to explain.

"I don't think it can work like that. You can support those you know, but not the establishment."

Blaine could only shake his head at her, "I'm going to head back; this is too heavy for me."

Many were arrested that night, the National Guard having made an appearance. He also heard at least one student was bayoneted. Luckily, Judy wasn't one of them, although she refused to say more than a few words to him. After the press conference with the mayor calling the students un-American and many other derogatory things, Blaine decided to let things cool for a bit. On Sunday instead of Joining in with his fellow students, he stayed in his room, distracting himself with homework, music, and writing Kurt.

Monday, May fourth, dawned like any other day, Blaine went to his morning lectures, and grabbed a quick snack before heading to the commons for the demonstration planned days before, his guitar in hand. Blaine had been handed a leaflet that morning stating the demonstration had been canceled, but knew they were just trying to silence them because of the pandemonium over the weekend. When Blaine made it to the commons, he saw he was right over a thousand, perhaps two thousand people were gathered to raise their voices together against the war. The bell sounded across the area and Blaine listened in rapt attention as people began to speak. As the first speaker was coming to his conclusion, Judy sidled up beside him.

Twice they were told to disperse, Blaine winced when rocks were once again thrown, but he knew they had a right to show how they felt. The second time canisters of tear gas landed in the crowd, but to no effect due to the wind. More stones and their own tear gas canisters were lobed back at the men. That began what felt like a game of cat and mouse. The guardsmen would advance and the students would retreat. Soon, they were in loose groups while the National Guard was behind a fence several yards away.

After a few minutes, the guardsmen began to leave and Blaine pulled his guitar in front of him and began strumming a now familiar tune. "All we are saying is give peace a chance," he sang wanting his own opinion to be heard. He didn't see the National Guard poised where they were.

Across the way Dave Karofsky saw a curly haired man start playing the guitar and singing about peace. It pissed Dave off to no end hearing the hippie freak singing about peace just moments after he and his friends were pelting his company with rocks. They didn't want peace they wanted to be free from responsibility. Dave hadn't wanted to go to Vietnam either, that was why he joined the guard, to serve his country while staying far away from that hellhole. He kept his eyes on the figure at the base of the statue so when the shooting started that was where his attention lay.

Blaine didn't notice anything until he heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire. Blaine was standing at the base of a statue and looked up at the noise only to be knocked back by an unseen force. He registered the screams of those around him, and people running before the pain exploded in his shoulder.

He gulped for air, feeling pinned to the statue unable to move or resister what had happened. He felt like a vice grip was on his heart keeping it from beating properly. Blaine blinked rapidly trying to dispel the haze in his eyes. He felt his body slump, his ass hitting the ground, but no pain registering above that of his shoulder. He looked down finally to see his shirt stained red with blood as it seeped ever further down. Judy's face filled his vision, her mouth moving but he was not able to concentrate on the sounds coming out of it. He felt as if he was underwater, his movements sluggish and like he was drowning. He gulped in air, an anguished scream following.

Judy's voice then broke through the haze, "Blaine! You are going to be all right you have to be all right. I can't lose you too. Just hold on for me, for Kurt."

Tears slipped down Judy's cheeks, whatever damn had held them in for weeks finally breaking. He looked down again, trying to understand what was happening to him. Judy's hand was clutching his right shoulder as blood oozed between her fingers. He tried to bat the hand away, didn't she understand she had blood on her hands. He looked further down and saw more blood staining the guitar strap Kurt had given him. He couldn't let it be ruined, no matter what, that was part of Kurt. He began fumbling with the strap, mindless of the pain his movements caused trying to take the guitar off. Seeing what he was doing, Judy rushed to help. "Keep it safe," he managed to mumble before everything went black.

Blaine woke to bright lights but feeling numb and lethargic. He felt simultaneously like he had slept a week and hadn't slept in weeks. His mind was a blur; he looked over to the side of his bed and saw his mother sitting in the chair reading a book. "What happened?" he croaked.

She quickly stood offering him a drink saying, "just relax." He looked at her face and saw that she wore no makeup now, a rare occurrence and her eyes were red and tired.

"Please tell me what's wrong." He begged.

As she began telling him about what happened, the events came back to him. He wanted to chuckle at the irony that even with Kurt in Vietnam, he was the first one to be shot; but the amusement died away when he thought of having to write Kurt and tell him of his injuries. His mother swiped his hair off his brow gently, "the doctors say you were lucky. The bullet missed any major organs. They had to give you blood and repair your shoulder blade. They say with lucky you should retain almost all of your movement on that side."

Blaine's upper arm was strapped tightly to his chest, restricting any movement. A large bandage covered his shoulder as well. He looked over at the clock it read ten; looking out the small window he saw the sun shining brightly outside so he figured it was the next day.

"Where's dad?" He asked his mom.

She looked down at her book, "oh, you know him; he is probably around here somewhere."

Blaine knew his father all right, and if he knew him like he thought he did he was probably back at the office again, if he ever came to visit him at all. After all, business doesn't stop for just anything.

Just before lunch, Blaine finally convinced his mom he would be okay for her to go. The doctors wanted him to spend a couple more days under observation before releasing him. He was just thinking about how he could get a hold of Judy to tell her it was safe to visit, when a knock sounded at the door. He called a greeting before looking over. He expected to see Judy or perhaps Jeff; who he wasn't expecting to see however was Mrs. Hudson, carefully pushing open the door.

"Mrs., Hudson, you didn't have to come here..." he began before her tear stained face stopped the rest of his sentence from forming. She wrung her hands around an almost disintegrated tissue, her clothes were wrinkled, and her hair disheveled as if she had been running her hands through it.

"No..." Blaine whispered. There was only one thing that would bring her here in this state. She seemed to like Blaine well enough from their two meetings, but not enough to elicit this kind of reaction. She had others closer to home to comfort her if it was about Finn. No, the only reason she would be standing here now was if it had something to do with Kurt.

She looked at him with sad eyes, "I tried to find you at school, as soon as I could, but they said you were here."

"No," Blaine whispered again a little louder.

"I...uh...they came by this morning..."

"No, no no," Blaine repeated like the mantra could change the past.

"Kurt was flying in an evac helicopter... they said something about the radio, but I don't really understand. All I know is they said... They said he was shot down... He's... he's missing and they don't have much hope."

Blaine felt like he was going to be sick, his stomach clenched and his heart dropped. "No, no, no...NO! It's not true it can't be true." He cried trying to free himself from his confine of blankets and sheets. He needed to move, he needed to run and find Kurt; he couldn't leave him out there in the jungle alone. He needed to get to him. If the army wasn't going to look, he would.

Carole Hudson stood in the door, tears once again streaking her face as she sobbed apologies at the young man who seemed to be breaking before her eyes. The noise attracted a few nurses who began struggling with Blaine as he tried to fight his way out of bed yelling no and Kurt in equal measure. She saw blood bloom from under the bandage on his shoulder and the nurses yelling for sedation and about popped stitches. All she could do was to try to apologize for turning this man's world upside down while her own was spiraling out of control. Hands attached to unseen bodies ushered her from the room and all she could hear was Blaine yelling as if his heart was breaking. When the door shut in her face she collapsed on the ground unable to move further.

Blaine fought against the bodies trying to keep him from Kurt, from finding the man he loves more the anything. He didn't see the needle in one of their hands but he felt the snakebite as it struck his arm. Try as he might his movements became more lethargic and with a final no, he fell into nothingness.