Blaine rubbed his eyes groggily with his left hand as he came back to the world. He wished he had had one moment to believe that his whole world hadn't changed, but as soon as his mind came back to him, he remembered everything with stunning clarity. He felt empty, like all his insides had been ripped out and he was left a hallow shell. His breath hitched at the thought of Kurt out there in the jungle missing, or worse laying dead his body never to be recovered. Tears began leaking from his eyes before he realized he wasn't alone in his room. An awkwardly cleared throat alerted him to his visitor. Cooper was sitting, still in a suit, in the chair next to his bed.

"Hey squirt." He said leaning forward taking Blaine's hand. "Glad to see you're awake again."Blaine couldn't think of an adequate answer so he just gave a small smile and nod. "The nurse said you had kind of a freak out and they had to take you back to surgery to make sure you didn't do more than pop a few stitches. You okay?"

Blaine cleared his throat before speaking. "Um... Yeah, I guess."

" What happened? They say you had a visitor, but by the time they got you sedated and stable, she was gone. Did Judy break up with you?" Cooper asked the concern on his face genuine.

"Judy's not my girlfriend." Blaine said trying to avoid the real reason for his freak out as Cooper called it. If he voiced it, it would make it real and if he talked about it with Cooper, who couldn't know the full impact of the news; he knew it would offer no comfort.

"You talk about her enough, I just figured..." Cooper said trailing off. He looked away from Blaine before steeling himself not to let the topic drop. "But really, what happened? You can talk to me about anything."

" Not this." Blaine said not meeting Coopers eyes knowing the disappointment he would find there.

Cooper's voice was soft when he spoke again, but firm in its quietness. "I'm not dad, squirt. I know what it's like not feeling like you can be yourself because you are afraid to be shunned. Hell, if I had my way I would have been out there protesting with you, if I had my way a lot of things would be different. So you can tell me anything, I won't tell dad, or anyone if you don't want me to."

" Even if I'm a queer?" Blaine asked before he could think about it. With little prompting, Blaine spilled everything realizing he probably had little to lose at this point. Let them lock him up in the loony bin for years to come, nothing really mattered anymore to Blaine. Cooper for his part listened with rapt attention focusing on his hand Blaine had in a death grip, though Blaine did not realize it. He listened as his kid brother talked about meeting a boy and falling in love and losing the boy first to the draft and now to the jungles of Vietnam. For an hour, he listened to Blaine talk about this boy Kurt until his voice grew hoarse and tired from his nonstop verbal barrage.

When Blaine was finally silent, Cooper found his voice to speak. "Oh, Blaine I had no idea."

Cooper looked at him with world-weary eyes, "what, that I'm a faggot?"

" Well that," Cooper said with a chuckle, "but more that you had been through so much and never said a word. You fell in love man, and that ain't nothing."

" So you aren't going to call the psych ward and have them lock me away?" Blaine asked with too much sincerity for Cooper's liking.

"Nah man, I don't understand it, I'm not really sure how I feel about it; but I figure you're not nuts. Perhaps it is better if you didn't share this with dad, he's already fuming, what with the article and all."

" What article?" Blaine asked confused once more.

Copper rubbed his neck a rare sign of insecurity, "The one they wrote after the... the shooting. It wasn't hard for him to miss something like, 'among those injured Blaine Anderson, English major.' It might not have been the best way to find out that your declared major wasn't law."

The little joy he had received from talking to Cooper vanished. "Shit, how pissed is he?"

"Pissed enough mom is having to talk him down from kicking you out of the house. He is taking small consolation that they didn't report if you were directly involved in the protest or not."

"I was," Blaine interrupted.

Cooper shook his head, "no shit, what the hell did they give you some truth serum or something? You can't seem to keep anything to yourself."

Blaine shrugged his shoulder making him since with pain, "Just tired of lying to everyone I guess."

Cooper left not long afterwards. Neither of his parents visited the rest of the day or the next morning. Judy came by early Wednesday morning spouting apologies for getting him 'involved in this mess' and assuring him his guitar was safe and sound. She held Blaine as he cried about Kurt, her tears dropping unceremoniously on his hair. After Blaine's tears had eased again, she smoothed down his hair and sniffed, "but you shouldn't lose hope, not yet. He's missing that doesn't mean he's dead."

" I know, I just can't believe he's... that he's dead. It doesn't seem real. It can't be real."Blaine babbled.

Judy sighed, "I think you would know, at least deep down if there wasn't anything to hope for."

Blaine decided in that moment that he would be a hopeful optimist, even if he had to force himself. He couldn't bring himself to think about a world without Kurt Hummel in it.

Blaine's reaction to the news of Kurt's disappearance earned him another few days in the hospital, so it was a week after the shooting that he finally made it back to his dorm. He would be taking an incomplete in his classes, unable to write with his right arm still in a sling. He wouldn't be coming back though. After Blaine refused to change his major, his father had adamantly refused to pay for college. His mother had tried to plead his case, but Mr. Anderson would have none of it. He wouldn't even let Blaine back into his house, telling him that if he thought he knew what was best for his life, he had better get to living it on his own. Mrs. Anderson had reluctantly told Blaine that it might be for the best if the two men did not live under the same roof, at least until his father had calmed down. So it was that Blaine was sitting on his bed watching as Cooper packed away his things into boxes to be taken to his house. Mary was more than willing, ecstatic even to take Blaine in, knowing it was a small resistance against the Anderson patriarch.

Blaine leapt from his bed as Cooper reached for the large pile of letters and pictures on his desk. "I'll get those," he rushed to say.

"What are they squirt?" Cooper said giving him a mischievous smile.

Blaine's eyes were wary and his tone cautious enough that Cooper knew he was serious when he replied, "they're from Kurt."

Cooper looked down at the letters, some bound with a ribbon, others held together with rubber bands. His eyes were then drawn to the picture on top of a pile. "Is this him?" he asked.

Blaine stepped behind him to look down at the picture. Kurt was squatting in the dirt his helmet tipped back revealing just a snatch of his now short hair. A bag lay between his legs and it was obvious he had been looking for something. He was looking at the person behind the camera and was laughing at them. Kurt had told him the story. His pal Billings had stolen his camera and told him to look sexy for his girl just before snapping the picture. He hadn't been able to do anything but laugh. Blaine smoothed a finger down Kurt's body a sad smile springing to his face. "Yeah, that's Kurt."

Cooper looked at his brother. He really looked at him. He could see affection and hurt clearly in his eyes. He knew that Blaine was torn up inside by what had happened to Kurt, had seen the tears himself. He also knew that Blaine was trying so hard to keep faith that Kurt would come home. He wanted to tell Blaine again how sorry he was, but knew he wouldn't want to hear it. Instead, he said, "I hope I get to meet him someday soon."

Blaine looked at Cooper relieved, "yeah me too."

Blaine was sitting on the guest bed, reading a book, about the only activity he was allowed to do at this point, with his dominant arm still out of commission. He had retreated more into books, even music couldn't hold his attention for long. Listening to his records, or the radio just made Blaine itch to play, so he whiled away the long hours of solitude while his brother and sister in law were at work reading. He discovered worlds he never knew existed and lost himself in them so he wouldn't have to think about the state of his own world. He didn't listen to the news when Cooper would sit in front of the television at night; he avoided newspapers. He avoided anything that would alert him to news from Vietnam. So he sat in his bed and reading when Mary came in, a pile of letters in her hands.

"Blaine," she said her voice tentative, "a letter came for you."

Before leaving Kent state, he had been sure to forward all his mail. The only person who really ever wrote him had been Kurt, but he thought it better to just in case. He knew from Mary's face two things. One Copper had told her, at least a little of what Blaine had shared; and two, that the letter was not from just anyone, it had to be from Kurt. He stretched his arm slowly towards her. She paused a moment before handing the letter over. "Thanks," he managed to say.

"Do you..." She started, obviously unsure how to handle the situation. "Would you like me to stay?"

Blaine looked up into Mary's anguished eyes, he could see how much she wanted to make things better, and she knew she couldn't. Blaine wanted her to be able to help, but he knew he couldn't bring himself to open the letter and read the words if he had an audience. "No thanks," he told her, trying to ignore how the hurt in her eyes increased.

Blaine sat on the edge of his bed looking at the envelope in his hands. He would have recognized the neat handwriting anywhere, the sight if which usually made his heart leap and dance knowing Kurt had written. Now though, his heart sank and thudded dully against his ribs. This was it; possibly the last letter he would ever receive from Kurt. He ran is hands over the intentions Kurt's pen had created in the paper, tracing each letter, every mark. He memorized the imperfection in the postmark; which letters were incomplete and where the lines hitched before continuing again. He could hear Cooper come home, and a quiet exchange between him and Mary, and the envelope lay still sealed in his hands.

Blaine rose from his bed and latched the door, not wanting to be disturbed, not knowing how long it would take him to will himself to open the envelope to reveal its contents. He sat back on his bed, and picked up the envelope once more. When the light began to fade from the room, he lay the letter in his lap and flicked on the lamp. One more deep breathe he picked the letter up and clumsily ran his finger under the flap. Trying not to think too much more on it, he eased the paper out.

My dearest B,
I miss you, I feel an ache all the time because I cannot be with you, but today that ache is so much deeper and I don't know why. I wish I could run away right into your arms. I wish I could leave this all behind and come to you. I long to feel your arms around me and the beat of your heart against mine. I want to taste your lips and know that we are both safe. I miss the happiness I feel whenever you are near. Nothing can compare to the way my heart leaps at the sight of you, how in that moment I feel like anything is possible in this world because you are with me again. I need you to know that no matter what happens here or at home, I will never regret anything between us. The day you stumbled upon our farm looking for help was an important day, it was the beginning of us. Please thank Jeff for not taking proper care of his car for me.

You know if you sit and catalog my life, it hasn't been the best. It is not the kind of life that most people dream of. I lost my entire family before I turned 18, I missed out on attending my dream school even after being accepted, not to mention being born in a way society doesn't approve of. But I can't help but feel I have been blessed. Meeting you, loving you, has been the best thing that has happened in my life. Against all odds we found each other, we took a chance and I have never been happier in my life. But now I am here and I feel like maybe it was all a dream. It just doesn't seem real sometimes. When that happiness dims to a small spark, a letter or package will arrive from you and for just that moment I can feel it again.

It is a true feat to be able to make someone feel so cherished a world away, and you never fail to make me feel loved and missed and like the most precious thing in the world. Your words, I read them and it almost feels like you are here loving and kissing me, they are truly your gift. Thank you for loving me so. I hope that my words here can make you feel a fraction of the love I feel for you. You know that words aren't my gift; I am better with a paintbrush or pencil, heck even a carving knife is a better was for me to express myself than words. That being the case, I have sent along a sketch I have been working on during my downtime this week. I hope you like it and can see what I mean by it.

I love you so much. Just think I am almost half way through my tour, we may be able to do this yet. I can't wait to be back in your arms again, safe and sound. Crap, I have to go, there is an emergency. One of the chopper medics was injured and yours truly has to take his place. So I have to finish up, even though I want to keep writing until my hand falls off. I will be back soon, and please don't worry about me. I should be safe and sound back in my bunk in a couple of hours. God, I don't want to end this letter. I want to keep writing and feeling close to you for a while longer. I love you, I love you, I love you. I want to say it as much as I can before I have to go. You are the most amazing person I have ever met, and I am so lucky you love me to. I love you more than anything else in this entire world. Damn, duty calls. Until I am safe in your arms again, I am sending all my loving to you.

Yours in heart, mind, body, and soul,

K

Blaine sat shaking on his bed and let the letter fall from his hands. It hurt to read the words of longing and love written moments before Kurt would disappear, to read how little danger Kurt thought he was in. Blaine cried out in renewed despair, the sound rising out of him without warning. More tears followed. Blaine wasn't sure how Judy was able to reign hers in for so long when even the mere thought of Kurt could bring Blaine's to the surface. Blaine wasn't just crying; great body aching sobs wracked his frame, making his sore shoulder ache and his chest burn with the force of them. He was unaware of the words that flew from his mouth as he rocked his body trying to find some form of comfort in a cruel world. He was unmindful of the frantic pounding at the door, or Coopers panicked calls trying to get Blaine to admit him. Blaine was lost to his grief that he had been trying valiantly not to face, since making his mind up to hold out hope. He needed to know how Kurt was; needed to know one way or another if he would ever see Kurt again. This limbo of not knowing whether to hope or grieve was slowly etching away at him in his week home but he hadn't acknowledged it until now.

A splintering of wood sent Cooper careening into the room. He rushed straight to Blaine and unmindful of his injuries pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, holding him tight as if the action could keep Blaine from falling apart. Blaine couldn't hear the words Cooper was saying, not over his racing thoughts and continued cries. He wanted to fight against the hold, they weren't the arms he wanted to have around him, he only wanted Kurt, he needed Kurt. He wanted to fight, but he found he had not strength for that, he only had the energy to finally release his pent up feeling.

It broke Cooper's heart to hear Blaine wailing, "It's not fair, I love him, I need him, Kurt." Over and over again. all he could do was hold him and whisper "I know" hoping Blaine would calm down enough to talk to him. For over an hour he sat holding Blaine as tightly as he could, as Blaine voice grew hoarser from overuse. When Blaine's voice was quiet and his body only shaking with silent sobs once more, Cooper finally spoke. "Blaine, it's okay, everything is going to be alright."

"I don't think it is Coop." He managed to say, halfheartedly pushing at his brother to be released. Once Cooper let go, Blaine rolled over on his side, no caring that it put too much weight on his shoulder, at least the pain made him feel something beside the empty space Kurt had left in his heart.

"Blaine," Cooper said with a sigh, feeling completely out of his element. "I know you want to hope that he is still out there alive. But it has been two weeks and I don't know how much of a chance he has out there. Maybe it's best if..."

"No," Blaine said forcefully, summoning all his remaining strength. "I can't give up Cooper. I just... I can't."

"Alright," Cooper sighed again, "Get some sleep." Cooper lingered at the door watching Blaine's back moving with each breath. He wanted so much to take all this hurt away from him; he wanted to take the pain and suffering away. He knew that he couldn't though, only Kurt could do that, or time. And deep down inside, Copper was sure time was the only possible answer.

Once Blaine heard the thump of the door against the frame, he gathered the envelope and letter in his hands again. Turning onto his back, he pulled another piece of paper out. With determination, he unfolded it to reveal the drawing Kurt had mentioned in his letter. It was two figures, entwined together facing each other, naked. The detail was exquisite, Blaine marveled at how well Kurt was able to capture each of them from memory alone. Surrounding them were tangling vines and tall trees reminiscent of the clearing back at the farm. However, instead of just being in the clearing, the clearing was encroaching on them, entwining with them, protecting them.

Blaine propped the letter against his alarm clock and traced each line with his eyes until the drifted closed and he fell into a fitful sleep. Blaine stayed in his room for the next week writing frantically. He found Mary's typewriter and peck away endlessly with his left hand. He refused any visitors and only left the room to grab a quick bite to eat. He wrote of how his and Kurt's life could be if things had been different. He wrote of their love and happiness. He wrote until he thought he would collapse. It was nothing like the novels Kurt had hidden in the barn loft; there was no shame, just pure unadulterated love.

He had just typed the last word when he heard raised voices drifting down the hall. He tried to ignore them and focus instead on the small bit of happiness he felt for having completed his work. The words however couldn't be ignored, and he couldn't decide how he was to react when he heard , "Mrs. Hudson, I think it best if you leave. I don't think Blaine needs to be disturbed at this time."

He slowly stood and made his way closer in time to hear Mrs. Hudson say, "the found him."