Chapter One

'It's just too hot!' Rachel exclaimed.

Jesse laughed at his girlfriend. 'Why don't we sit down over here? I'll get us some juice,' he said, as Rachel smiled at him thankfully. He leaned in to kiss her gently.

'You are a wonderful boyfriend,' she told him as they parted. Rachel sat down under a large, shady tree. The park was one of her favourite parts of Berlin. She glanced around at the countless children running, jumping, laughing. Sighing, Rachel wished that she could be a child again. Innocent and blissfully ignorant.

Jesse returned holding two cups of orange juice from the refreshment stall. 'Thank you,' Rachel said, leaning into his shoulder. They sat against the tree, sipping quietly for a few moments. 'I need to tell you something,' she said.

'I'm listening,' Jesse said.

'I got a letter this morning. It said that we won't be attending the same school next term; I have to go to a different school. It says that - that I'm not allowed to go to our school anymore,' she told him.

'What do you mean? Why?' Jesse asked, already fearing he knew the answer.

'Because I'm Jewish, Jesse,' she told him sadly.

They sat in silence, Rachel suddenly feeling cold despite the scorching heat. 'It's starting, isn't it?' she asked him, trying not to cry.

Jesse pulled her closer. 'I'm not going to let them. I won't let them get to us,' he promised, but inside he was doubtful he would be able to stay true to his word. He sighed. 'I just don't see why your religion should matter. Why should it be a reason to treat you differently, to treat you like you're less of a person than everyone else?' he wondered.

Rachel shrugged. 'I don't know, Jesse. But that's the way it is,' she said.

'It shouldn't. It shouldn't be like this,' he said firmly.

The package arrived a week or so later. Kurt took it into his room excitedly, assuming his aunt had finally remembered his birthday present. They boy ripped the brown paper away quickly, letting the contents fall onto his bed. He gasped, shocked at what he saw. It was a triangle. A pink triangle, made of cheap cloth. Alongside it was a letter and instructions. Kurt read them in horror, tears filling his eyes. He had to sew this triangle onto his clothes and wear it, everywhere he went, so that he could be 'identified' by others.

Kurt went over to his window, where he could see Blaine at work, cleaning the windows of the apartments opposite. 'Blaine! Blaine!' He managed to cry out before the tears overcame him. The boy turned, seeing Kurt. Kurt could no longer speak, but Blaine saw his boyfriend shaking with tears and that was enough. He climbed down the ladder and ran across the street, narrowly avoiding hitting a cyclist. Blaine pounded up the stairs, two at a time, arriving at Kurt's front door within moments. Kurt's father answered and allowed Blaine to come into the apartment. He was under the impression that the boys were just friends. Quickly muttering his thanks, Blaine walked down the hall into Kurt's room.

His boyfriend was curled up in the corner, tears streaming down his face. Blaine immediately crossed the room to hold Kurt. The boy whimpered, clutching Blaine close to him. 'What is it?' he asked softly. Kurt pointed wordlessly to his bed. Blaine raised his eyebrows, surprised. 'Erm, I don't think that's such a good idea, not whilst you're in this state. Besides, your father is just down the hall,' Blaine said.

Kurt laughed weakly in spite of his tears. 'No, silly,' he murmured, reaching over and picking up the triangle, passing it to Blaine, who took it and sighed sadly.

'Ah,' he said in understanding.

Kurt frowned. 'You know what this is?' he asked.

Blaine nodded. 'Mine came two days ago,' he confessed.

'Why didn't you tell me? And why aren't you wearing it?' Kurt asked.

'I didn't want to worry you. And I'm not wearing it because I don't have to,' he said defiantly.

'Are you insane? Of course you have to wear it! Look,' Kurt said incredulously, grabbing the letter with its official Reichstag seal. 'I'm pretty sure the Fuhrer ordered this himself,' he told Blaine.

'I know. And that's why I'm not wearing it. I'm not going to let them brand me, I'm not going to let a stupid little pink triangle define me. If someone asks why I'm not wearing it, I'll tell them they made a mistake, I'll tell them I'm not a homosexual. I have a friend, she said that she'd lie for me, you know, say that her and I are together,' Blaine said.

'So you're going to lie about who you are?' Kurt said.

'It's not like that, Kurt. Look, you can't tell anyone about this. I shouldn't really be telling you,' he began.

'Tell me what? And I can keep a secret,' Kurt asked.

Blaine considered, then decided it would be safe to tell Kurt a few small details. 'Well...some nights, me and a few others go to this - well, I suppose you could call it a bar. And we talk, and we hear others talking. We listen to a secret radio. The things we hear...it's awful, Kurt, truly. It's disgusting, the things that the Fuhrer is planning. For us, and for the Jews, the mentally disabled and the gypsies too. It's already started,' Blaine said.

'You mean with these?' Kurt asked, gesturing to the triangle.

Blaine nodded. 'This is just the beginning, for us. The homosexuals have to wear a pink triangle and the Jews have to wear a yellow star. It's to make them stand out. The next stages are fairly uncertain, although I do know that wearing one of their minority markers will make life very difficult. There's rumour that we won't be allowed to go to restaurants, cinemas, cafés. We will probably be barred from riding the trams,' Blaine explained. 'Do you know what Hitler's already started doing? To - to children,' he began, voice shaking in anger.

Kurt shook his head, allowing Blaine to continue. 'He's taking the children who have disabilities and locking them up in so-called hospitals. The parents think they're going to get better, but they never see their children again. He - he kills them, and makes it look like an accident. There was a baby taken last week, just eighteen months old,' Blaine said, his face disgusted at the memory.

Kurt was looking horrified. 'How can he be allowed to do that?' he asked.

Blaine shook his head. 'I don't know. He's the Fuhrer. He's allowed to do whatever he wants,' he said dully.

There was a short pause. 'But Blaine, if they're treating people like that - then what are they going to do to us?' Kurt asked fearfully.

'I don't know. But I think it's going to be worse,' Blaine told him.

Kurt's tears, which hadn't really stopped, began flowing again, and Blaine held him tight, desperately trying to keep his own tears from appearing. He had to be strong for the both of them.

Jesse took Rachel's hand as the couple walked through the street. She was very quiet, which was unusual for her. 'Are you alright?' he asked.

Rachel nodded. 'I'm as alright as I can be,' she said. Rachel looked around the square, full of people. Around half of them had a yellow star stitched onto their clothing, making them stand out. Rachel fingered her own star, which clashed with her pink shirt. Jesse saw this and pulled her into a firm hug. He hated what they were doing to Rachel. It was completely wrong on every level. Just last week, her father's shop had been burned to the ground.

Jesse shook his head angrily. 'That star doesn't make me see you any differently,' he told her, trying to make her feel better.

Rachel gave him a tiny, forlorn smile. 'That's very sweet Jesse, but not everybody thinks like you do,' she said.

'Well they should. And if you ever meet somebody who doesn't, then they aren't worth knowing,' he told her firmly.

'I guess you're right,' Rachel considered.

'I'm always right,' Jesse said. Rachel laughed, and he joined in, happy that she was finally enjoying herself. Rachel leaned into Jesse as they continued down the street, and he gently kissed the top of her head.

They walked silently for a few minutes. 'Rachel, listen to me,' Jesse said as they sat on a bench. 'You can't let it get to you. You have to rise above it all. You are not worthless, or lesser, or different. You are the same as everyone else; you're equal. Don't let them win. If you walk around with your head high and a smile on your face, they'll know they can't get to you. Besides, that would really annoy the stupid Fuhrer,' Jesse told her, whispering the last part very quietly. You never knew who was listening.

Rachel smiled, then heard someone approaching the bench, behind them. She turned, seeing one of the many Nazi officers who patrolled the streets looking down at her distastefully.

'Hey, you. You are not permitted to use this bench,' he ordered gruffly.

Rachel sighed. This sort of thing had begun happening more and more. Normally she just nodded and didn't say anything, blindly following their orders, but not this time. 'Why? Why can't I sit here? I've been walking for several hours and my legs hurt. There are people sitting on benches all over the square. So why can't I?' she asked. Rachel knew the answer, of course she did, but she still wanted to challenge him.

The man laughed at her. 'You stupid bitch, you really don't know?' he said.

Jesse's hands clenched into fists but Rachel laid a hand on his arm, not wanting the situation to get violent. 'I really don't know. Please, enlighten me,' she said, speaking calmly, but Jesse could hear a tiny quaver in her voice which he knew masked fear.

'You're not sitting there because you're a fucking Jew, that's why,' the officer told her, then yanked her up forcefully by the arm. Rachel stifled a cry of pain as she was thrown to the ground.

Jesse glared at the Nazi. 'What do you think you're doing?' he shouted.

'Jesse, no, don't,' Rachel begged. She dreaded to think what would happen if he spoke out against the Nazis.

The officer stared Jesse down. 'Listen, boy. You're lucky it's my mother's birthday today, and she'd be sad if I did the things to you that I'm picturing in my head. So you and your filthy little girlfriend are going to find somewhere else to sit. That's an order,' he told him.

Jesse stared back at the man. He wanted to yell at this man, God, he wanted to throw this man to the ground and kick his head in for what he was doing to Rachel. He wanted to shoot this man in the cock and balls fifty times for the way he was making Rachel feel. But he didn't. Because Jesse knew that violence was not the way to fight these people. Real impact, real hurt, real war and real change would happen quietly and slowly. He was better than the Nazis. He would not sink to their level. Never.

So he held the man's gaze for several minutes. Then he spoke very calmly, almost too calmly. 'Come on, Rachel. This man has asked us to leave,' to which Rachel thankfully pulled herself off the ground and took his hand.

She clutched it, relieved, as the Nazi walked away. Jesse turned to look at her. 'Are you alright?' he murmured quietly, for the second time that day.

Rachel nodded shakily. She buried her head in his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. 'Ssh,' Jesse whispered, stroking her, kissing her hair. They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Rachel had calmed down.

'Come on. I'll buy you some ice cream,' he said gently. Rachel gave him a small smile. Jesse always knew the right thing to do. They walked down a side street to their favourite ice cream parlour. It was the place that Jesse and Rachel had gone on their first date, almost two years ago. It had cheerful pink lettering on the front, and people sat on tables outside, talking and laughing as they ate their icy treats.

Rachel finally allowed herself to properly smile. 'Thank you. This...this is perfect, Jesse,' she said, leaning up to kiss him softly. Jesse smiled into the kiss, then took her hand and they stepped inside.

A wonderful smell hit Rachel as she entered and she breathed it in steadily, finally feeling calm. A waitress walked over to her, a waitress they had seen hundreds of times before, wearing a pink candy striped apron and a bright smile. As she approached Jesse and Rachel, the smile faltered. 'I'm sorry Miss, but I'm not allowed to serve you,' she said apologetically.

That was the final straw for Rachel. She felt her eyes fill with tears, and her eyes fell upon a sign above the counter. 'Kein Juden', it read. She looked at the yellow star on the sign, then at the yellow star on herself. She sobbed loudly, not caring what anybody thought anymore.

'I'm sorry, I truly am,' the waitress said, beginning to cry herself.

'It's not your fault,' Jesse said. It was true; the Nazis were behind this. The waitress had no choice.

'No,' Rachel protested. 'No. This isn't fair! This is my favourite place in the city. This is the one place I wanted, the one place I needed. Can't there just be one single place that I can go and not feel defined by this stupid gold star?' she cried.

There was a pause. The waitress was looking at Rachel sympathetically, and suddenly an idea flew into her head. The waitress stepped behind Jesse to the small rail of hooks upon which hung hats and coats and the like. She plucked out a small white cardigan, holding it out to Rachel. 'This is mine. Put it on to cover yourself and come sit in the back,' she told her.

Rachel gasped in shocked disbelief. 'Thank you. Thank you so much,' she said, pulling it on and making sure her star was hidden from view.

The waitress showed them to a small, secluded table. 'You are a truly wonderful person,' Jesse thanked her.

Rachel nodded in agreement, wiping away her tears. 'I'm sorry for my outburst back there - it's just, that was the fifth time this week, that I've been told I can't go somewhere, that I can't do something. And I just had a run in with a Nazi,' she said.

The waitress' eyes widened. 'Oh my,' she said, patting Rachel's shoulder comfortingly.

'I'm Rachel and this is my boyfriend, Jesse,' she told her after a pause.

The waitress nodded, smiling. 'I'm Quinn,' she introduced herself.

A different waitress bought their ice creams over. Quinn must have made them, however, because the sundaes were labelled 'Rachel' and 'Jesse', in chocolate sauce, and were truly enormous. They talked as they ate, finally managing to forget about all the trials of today and discussing mundane topics, both of them enjoying the dull normality. It made a nice change.

Jesse reached the second layer of his sundae and frowned, perplexed. He glanced up, seeing Quinn watching him from across the room. He was about to mouth something to her, but Quinn shook her head and pointed at Rachel (who couldn't see her) and put a finger to her lips in warning. Jesse glanced back down at the sundae. There was a message written in butterscotch sauce, which had been hiding under a wafer. He nodded at what Rachel was saying, and tried to read it without being obvious. It said:

Jesse. Come back here at half past midnight. Go to the back door and knock seven times. There's something you need to do. DO NOT tell Rachel; it's not safe. Eat this as soon as you have read it. Quinn.

He quickly memorised the information and then ran his spoon across the message, distorting it, and then swiftly ate it. They left the café not long after. Jesse was happy because Rachel was happy. But he was also filled with a nervous excitement about what tonight would bring.

'So I guess we won't be seeing Snow White,' Kurt said as they left the cinema.

Blaine sighed. He desperately wanted to hold Kurt and tell him everything was alright - but they were in the middle of the city, and not the safe part. The two of them couldn't even hold hands. Kurt had just been told that he wasn't allowed into the cinema. Why? The pink triangle.

Kurt hated it. His father had thrown him out of the house when he saw Kurt wearing it. Kurt couldn't do anything anymore. Along with the Jews, homosexuals were not allowed to ride trams or own a bicycle, so he walked everywhere. They were not allowed to eat in restaurants, drink in cafés or visit museums or shops, and now the cinema had been taken away from him too. But Kurt never showed any sign of all of this bothering him - in public.

In private, when it was just him and Blaine, Kurt would cry and Blaine would usually end up crying too. Kurt hated the way that the triangle made everything change, made everyone see him differently. Blaine hated seeing his boyfriend feel like this. Sometimes, Blaine secretly felt glad that he himself had decided against wearing the triangle. He would never say this to Kurt, and he always regretted thinking it as soon as the thought entered his head.

But in his relief, Blaine felt scared at not knowing what was going to happen to Kurt. He knew something big was coming, he just didn't know what. And if Blaine was wearing a triangle too, he'd always be there with Kurt to find out and be by his side. But Blaine shook these thoughts out of his head as they finally reached the secluded part of Berlin where he and Kurt could be who they truly were. Blaine took Kurt's hand, stopping him from walking any further, and took Kurt in his arms, holding him tightly.

They leaned against the wall, and Kurt nuzzled into Blaine's chest, letting a few tears fall. They stayed still for a few moments, Blaine holding him.

'Can we go inside?' Kurt murmured through his tears, pointing at the small guest house opposite. Blaine nodded, and they entered. The landlady recognised the boys, and she gave Kurt a sympathetic pat on the shoulder when she saw his triangle, before passing Blaine a key knowingly. They thanked her and began to walk up the stairs, which creaked painfully with each step they took.

As they found their room, Blaine unlocked the door and Kurt immediately collapsed onto the small bed. Blaine made sure the door was locked before joining his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around Kurt and planting small kisses in his hair. He didn't ask Kurt if he was alright because he knew that Kurt wasn't alright, not at all.

After a few minutes, Kurt began slowly removing his shirt.

'We don't have to, not tonight,' Blaine whispered. 'Don't feel as if you have to,' he told Kurt.

'I want to be close to you - I need to be with you, I need to hear your heart beating, I need to feel you all over me. I just...please, Blaine,' he whispered.

Blaine consented, pressing his lips to Kurt's. Kurt closed his eyes and felt nothing but Blaine. He sighed, tasting his boyfriend as Blaine slipped his tongue into his mouth. Somehow they were both naked within moments, and Blaine prepared to enter Kurt, as he had done countless times before.

'Wait,' Kurt said softly, putting a hand on Blaine's arm to stop him.

'What's wrong?' Blaine asked, concern in his eyes.

Kurt looked up at his amazing, beautiful, perfect boyfriend and smiled. 'Blaine...I love you,' he told him, gently moving his hand down Blaine's arm so they could clasp hands.

Blaine smiled back at him, feeling a lump in his throat. 'I - I love you too. So much,' Blaine returned, leaning forwards and placing a clumsy, happy kiss on Kurt's lips. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment, hardly daring to believe that this was happening.

'Resume?' Kurt requested after a moment, smirking a little, to which Blaine chuckled.

'With pleasure, my love,' he said, loving the way the words tasted in his mouth.

Afterwards, Kurt was sleeping, and Blaine was anxiously lying awake, waiting. Tonight was the night.

After waiting for what felt like a very long time, he quietly crept out of bed and checked the tiny clock that hung on the wall. It was a few minutes after midnight. Blaine's heart jolted and he silently pulled his clothes back on. He couldn't leave a note for Kurt; if discovered, it would be too dangerous, on so many levels. Hopefully he would be back before Kurt noticed he was gone.

Blaine walked quickly through the streets, a hat tugged over his head, and he made his way to the place.

There were a few Nazi officers around - but there were also many people walking through the streets; it was Berlin, after all. So Blaine was hardly alone in taking a midnight stroll. Nonetheless, he kept his head bowed all the way.

Finally, he turned down a small side street, and saw the ice cream parlour at the end of the street. Blaine checked his watch; nearly half past. Glancing over his shoulder, he went to the back door and knocked seven times.

--- moods that take me, and erase me, and I'm painted black ---

What did you think? I hope you liked it...?

A few things you need to know about this chapter

1. the Reichstag is the German congress/parliament

2. the Fuhrer is Hitler, the leader

3. the gold stars and pink triangles and the Nazis on the street etc is all true, as is the barring of certain people from cafes, restaurants, cinemas, trams etc - all of that happened in Nazi Germany

4. veganism was practically unheard of at the time this is set, so Rachel is vegetarian. I normally hate it when people write fics and say she's veggie, not vegan, but as this needs to be historically accurate, she honestly wouldn't have been vegan in 1940. vegetarianism was very rare too, but for the purposes of this story, she's veggie. I have nothing against veganism - I'm vegan myself - and in my other stories that feature Rachel, she's vegan (except Brokeback Blesse because of the time that is set) so please don't be offended or anything that she ate ice cream. if this was a contemporary fic she'd be eating soy ice cream but that didn't exist back then

5. I have a rule that I don't make it a priority to update unless there are some reviews, so if you want more then you'd better REVIEW!