'We have four days left. They are going to be the most perfect four days of your life'

Day One

'Ouch,' Kurt muttered, opening his eyes and glancing around blearily. Someone had kicked him in the head. He moved away quickly, seeing a police officer stood over him.

'Get up, fag,' he said, laughing cruelly. Kurt obediently stood up, not wanting to undergo another kicking. As he glanced around, he remembered everything. He remembered being dragged away, and the anguished look on Blaine's face. He remembered being blindfolded and thrown into a police van. He remembered being pushed into the cell. He remembered banging his fists on the door and screaming himself hoarse. He remembered all the horrors. But there was one good thing in the midst of it all. The memory he clung to the most was the moment when Blaine told Kurt that he loved him. Their love was the most important thing. Their love made all the pain worth it.

Kurt was rudely bought back to the present when the policeman grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and pushed him out of the cell. He was then handcuffed and blindfolded by the man. Kurt became frightened; unable to see what was happening and utterly defenceless, he stumbled forwards and fell, his knees colliding painfully with the ground.

He heard cruel laughter, before being dragged along the floor. 'Let me go,' Kurt begged feebly, only hearing more laughter in response. After several minutes, the policeman stopped dragging him, and Kurt could hear nervous murmurs around him. When he was finally freed of his blindfold and handcuffs, he saw that he was now in a large room with about twenty or so other men, all looking rather dishevelled and anxious. Kurt sighed when he realised that he too probably looked like shit, but there was little that could be done about that.

'You're new,' said a voice behind him. Kurt turned, seeing a man next to him. He was tall, with dark hair, although not as dark as Blaine's - no, don't think about Blaine, Kurt told himself firmly.

'Yes, I arrived last night. Wonderful hospitality isn't it?' he said to the boy sarcastically, who laughed.

'I'm Sebastian. I'd shake your hand, but if we touch each other, we're dead. They really hate us homosexuals' he said bitterly.

'I'm Kurt. And still alive, despite being caught in the throes of sodomy last night,' he told Sebastian, whose eyes widened.

'God, you're lucky to be alive, Kurt,' he said sincerely. Kurt shrugged.

'I don't know about that. This place seems awful. Maybe in a few hours I'll wish I was dead,' he mused.

Sebastian considered. 'You're right. It's hell here. But don't ever wish that you were dead. There are too many people that are dead. They've taken too many lives. You have to hope, Kurt, you just have to,' he told him firmly.

Kurt nodded at him gratefully. 'Thank you. Thank you, Sebastian,' he said. There was a short pause, before Kurt asked, 'hasn't anyone ever tried to escape? I mean, we could just walk out of the door, right now,' he speculated, eyeing the open, unguarded door.

'Oh, people have tried. Believe me. And people will try again, and again. But they will never succeed. Look, speak of the devil,' Sebastian said, gesturing to a smaller boy, who was sprinting across the room towards the door. The boy's face was scared, but there was something so hopeful about it that Kurt dared to hope too, just for a moment. Then a gunshot rang out loud and sickeningly clear, and the boy crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

Kurt gasped, horrified, and felt sick with fear. A tear slowly rolled down his cheek, and he turned, distraught, to Sebastian, who was showing no emotion at what they had just seen. 'Don't - don't you feel anything?' Kurt asked incredulously. Sebastian shook his head sadly.

'Torture, abuse, death. You get used to it. Seeing so much of it, every day; it hardens you, makes you immune. This place...it changes you. Soon enough, you won't feel anything either,' he told Kurt.

'I can't imagine being like that. I can't imagine seeing someone murdered before my eyes and not feeling anything. I can't imagine it,' he said.

'I'm angry that they made me this way. My first few days here, I was crying. All the time. Then one day I just stopped. I'm not quite sure how, or why, or even when, exactly. But one day, they shot four boys right in front of my eyes. Two of them were my friends. And I just stared into their faces as the life drained out of them, looked right into their eyes as they glazed over. Watched the blood pouring out of their still hearts. And I felt nothing,' Sebastian remembered.

There was a long silence. Kurt was shocked at his story. He tried to think of something to say to Sebastian - anything - but suddenly the room fell eerily silent, even the police officers stopped talking. A group of Nazis walked in, and Kurt froze in fear.

'We'll take it from here,' said one of them. The policemen hurriedly shuffled out of the room, having lost their bravado and authority the moment the Nazis entered. Kurt didn't know if he should be glad at seeing the back of the horrid policemen, or scared at being in a room with Nazis.

As soon as the door closed, Kurt turned to Sebastian, about to ask him what was going to happen, but Sebastian shook his head in warning. Kurt kept his mouth firmly shut, and listened to the hideous, terrifying silence, broken only by the click-click-click of expensive Nazi boots pacing the floor. Eventually, one of them stopped in front of him, and he fixed his eyes firmly on the floor, too scared to look him in the eye.

'Fresh meat,' whispered a menacing voice in his ear. Before he had time to react, the man was beating him with a club. Kurt quickly curled himself into a ball, trying to protect his head by wrapping his arms around it. It all happened so suddenly. 'I'm going to beat it out of him! He won't be a faggot much longer!' declared the Nazi joyfully, as he continued beating Kurt all over his body, and he blinked back his tears, not wanting them to know that he was hurting. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction. He just closed his eyes and waited for it to be over.

When it had finally stopped, Kurt stayed on the floor, not sure how he ought to react. 'Get up, homo,' the man ordered. Kurt hurriedly stood up. He noticed that the other prisoners were now standing in a line, and he joined Sebastian on the end, limping, and silently wincing in pain. Standing up was hard enough; his entire body was throbbing. But, worse than that, he felt ashamed. No. No, Kurt told himself firmly. They will not make me feel ashamed of who I am, he told himself.

One of the Nazis cast his eyes up and down the line, eventually resting upon someone at the other end, who Kurt couldn't see. 'You. Come here,' he ordered. The boy stepped forwards, and Kurt saw that he had light brown hair and glasses. Suddenly, the boy ran towards the door.

'Fuck this shit,' the boy yelled, trying to escape, and Kurt braced himself for another gunshot. But it didn't come. They didn't shoot him. Instead, two of them grabbed the boy so that he couldn't escape, and then one of them retrieved a particularly nasty looking tool from their pocket. The boy obviously recognised it, and began shouting. 'No, no, God, please no,' he protested, but it was too late. The Nazi grabbed the boy's hand and clamped the tool over the fingers. The boy's cries pierced the air, as he screamed out a stream of curse words. When the Nazi removed the tool, Kurt's mouth dropped open in horror as he saw that the boy's fingernails had been ripped out, leaving behind bloody stumps.

'Does anyone else want to leave?' asked another officer. The other boys in the line shook their heads hurriedly, whilst the poor boy without his fingernails got back in line, crying quietly. The officer smiled. 'Good. Now, I'm sure you all know why you're here. For the benefit of those of you who are new,' he said, glancing at Kurt, who shuddered, 'I'll explain. You are all worthless, disgusting homosexuals. And the Fuhrer has ordered us to get rid of you. None of you are true Germans. You have dirty, filthy blood. You don't belong in this country, hell, in this world,' he told them. 'Heil Hitler!' he called out, which the rest of the Nazis repeated, doing the one-handed salute that Kurt had come to deeply detest.

He felt sick at what he was hearing. And what did they mean, 'get rid' of him? Was he going to die here? Quite possibly. However, he was shaken out of his thoughts by the Nazi officer selecting several boys from the line. They looked pale and frightened. The Nazis swiftly handcuffed the boys, and pulled down the boys' trousers, exposing their backsides, before retrieving a long stick. Kurt was fairly certain that it was once a ruler, but was now rather broken and dirty. He presumed that the boys were going to be beaten with the ruler, but what happened in actuality was much worse.

The Nazi walked behind the boys, and then inserted the ruler into a boy. The boy screamed in pain and horror as he was torn open inside. Kurt could hardly bear to watch as the boy was raped with the broken old ruler. After a few terrible minutes, the Nazi withdrew the ruler, and the boy fell forwards, gasping in pain, tears streaming down his face. Blood steadily trickled down his legs.

Kurt was forced to watch as the remaining boys were raped too, and, finally, the Nazis left. 'You're tomorrow,' one of them whispered slyly to him, and Kurt whimpered.

Lying in the small, hard bed that night, Kurt finally allowed himself to cry. He'd only been here for one day and it was already a thousand times worse than he had ever imagined. God, he wished Blaine were here. But then he quickly threw that thought away. He was glad that Blaine wasn't here, because this way, Blaine didn't have to go through this abuse and torture. Blaine was safe, and that was all that mattered. Kurt closed his eyes and began drifting off to sleep, tears falling down his face and the screams ringing in his ears.

- I'm sitting here, weeping, while the hours pass so slow -

Day Two

Blaine woke up, gasping, drenched in sweat. He'd had another nightmare. He sat up wearily, trying and failing to ignore the hideous loneliness that crept up inside him. Kurt wasn't here. Kurt was never going to be here again.

'No,' Blaine muttered to himself, quiet but firm. He couldn't think like that. If he began giving up in his thoughts, he would end up giving up in his actions too. So Blaine took several deep breaths, and then turned to look at the empty space next to him, where Kurt belonged. 'I am going to fight. I am going to rescue Kurt. I am going to hold him again, kiss him again, make love to him again,' he said, keeping his voice steady.

He got out of bed and went to use the bathroom, before walking to the kitchen. Blaine glanced at the clock. It was nearly five o'clock in the morning. He knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, not after the nightmare. Shuddering at the all too vivid memory, Blaine headed back to his bedroom. His eyes fell upon Brittany, sleeping peacefully in the room opposite. She was holding her small unicorn that Santana had made for her out of old dresses. He sighed. She may be eccentric and a little odd, but Brittany was an amazing friend.

She was an orphan, and had grown up in a children's home in Lichtenberg, a small town just outside of Berlin. They both attended the same school, and became fast friends. When they were around thirteen, their class took a day trip to Berlin. Whilst the rest of their classmates looked around the museums and played in a small park, Blaine and Brittany ran away. They had walked through the crowded streets, transfixed by the way that the city never seemed to stop moving. It was very different from their small town.

Blaine's parents had given him a few marks for the trip, and he bought pancakes. The two of them ate, sat on the warm, dusty pavement, watching people drinking wine and the trams rolling by. As the sun was setting, Brittany said she wanted to stay in Berlin forever, and it had been such a perfect day that Blaine agreed.

It hadn't always been easy, but somehow Brittany and Blaine survived. In the beginning, they got poorly paid jobs, slept in tiny, freezing rooms and ate rarely. It had been hell, at times. Eventually, somehow, things turned around, and they now had their own apartment and enough money to get by. Blaine didn't regret any of it. All of his regrets came later.

Blaine shook himself out of his memories and threw on some clothes before heading out into the warm night - well, morning. He wandered aimlessly for a bit. There was nobody else around, not even the Nazi patrollers yet, at this hour. However, at one point he came across two girls, both wearing yellow stars, and carrying small suitcases. They were obviously running away, and when they ran into Blaine they looked terrified at having been discovered.

'It's fine. I'm not on their side,' he said, giving the girls a smile to put them at ease. They visibly relaxed. Blaine reached into his pocket, and pulled out several marks. He handed them to the older girl, and then pulled both of them into a hug. 'Good luck,' he said. 'And hurry. The Nazis start roaming the streets at six o'clock,' he said, continuing on his way. The girls scurried off, and Blaine hoped that they'd manage to escape to safety.

He had intended to go back to his apartment after clearing his head, but it was now nearing six o'clock, and if the Nazis saw him walking around, he'd be in trouble. There wasn't enough time for him to get back home. So he turned a corner and headed towards the ice cream parlour, knowing it would be safe there.

He let himself in - Quinn had known him for a long time and trusted him with a key - and quietly opened the front of the cabinet, and then began walking down the stairs. When he was at the door, Puck threw it open, startling Blaine. Puck was holding a gun, and Blaine fell backwards in shock, desperately trying to stop him. 'It's me - it's Blaine!' he whisper-shouted, not wanting to make too much noise. Puck sighed in relief.

'Thank God. You scared me,' he said, pulling Blaine up off of the floor and into a hug. Blaine peered around Puck into the room. Quinn was stood there, also with a gun, which she lowered when she saw that it was Blaine.

'What's happened? Is something wrong? What happened?' she demanded all in a rush, concerned. Blaine shook his head.

'Nothing. Just...Kurt,' he said sadly. The other two sighed sympathetically, Puck giving him a one armed hug and Quinn kissing his cheek softly.

'How long has it been?' Puck asked. Blaine glanced at the clock that hung over the bar.

'Two days,' he said. 'And about three hours,' he told them.

'We'll get him back. We will,' Quinn assured him. Blaine nodded.

'I know. But I'm just terrified in case there's nothing left to get back,' he said, feeling his eyes fill with tears.

'You can't think like that,' Puck told him.

'But what if it's true, Puck? What if - what if they kill him? I'm trying to stay positive, but...it's just too hard. I keep having these nightmares where I walk into a room and he's just lying there on the floor, bleeding, but alive. I run over to him, happy and relieved - then I see his lifeless eyes, hear his silent heart, and I realise that he's...dead,' Blaine sobbed into Puck's shoulder.

There was a pause, as Blaine continued to cry, and Quinn and Puck exchanged a concerned look.

'I think you need to go back to bed, Blaine,' Quinn suggested gently.

'No. How can I sleep peacefully when Kurt is probably being tortured right this minute? I want to get him out of there, right now. Let's go, let's break into the police station and rescue him. Come on!' he cried, tears filling his eyes as he reached for one of the guns hanging on the wall. Puck quickly stopped him.

'Blaine, you're not thinking clearly. We can't go there. We haven't prepared, they'd kill us within five minutes. I know the waiting is awful, but I promise, it will be worth it,' Puck told him gently.

'Yes because everything worked out just fine when you waited around for Beth,' he retorted angrily. The looks of pain on Puck and Quinn's faces at his mention of Beth made Blaine feel unbelievably guilty. 'God I'm sorry...I shouldn't have said that. That was out of order. I'm sorry,' he apologised. They nodded stiffly, knowing that Blaine wouldn't have said those words if he wasn't so upset.

'It's alright. Just...go back to bed. That's the best thing for you right now,' Quinn said again.

'No...I can't, Britt will be worried...I can't impose,' Blaine mumbled his excuses.

'It's no trouble. And Quinn will go and tell Brittany where you are,' Puck told him. Quinn nodded in confirmation.

'You look like you really need it,' Quinn agreed.

Puck gently steered him into the room behind the bar, ignoring Blaine's feeble whines of protest. There were several beds - one was Puck's, and was messy and clearly slept in. Then there were several others. Puck gently lay him down on a clean one, and Blaine breathed in the cool, white sheets beneath him. Quinn pulled the blanket over him. 'Go to sleep. I promise you'll feel better in a few hours,' Quinn whispered, smiling. He gave in and closed his eyes, hearing their footsteps leave.

Blaine fell into an uneasy sleep, his dreams haunted by a white face with unblinking eyes and cold lips.

- When your mind's made up, there's no point in trying to change it, when your love...love, love, I'll come running to fight -

Day Three

Jesse hurried down the empty, dark street, running a little late for the meeting. As he hurtled round the corner, he crashed into someone. 'Gosh, sorry - wait, is that you, Santana?' he recognised the girl from the other night. She was wearing a deep purple dress that looked beautiful against her skin tone. Her hair was unbrushed, and hung messily around her shoulders. Once again, she had bare feet.

'Oh...hello, Jesse. Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going,' she said distractedly.

'I can tell. The café is this way,' Jesse said, turning her around gently. Her face looked blank. 'The meeting?' he prompted. Suddenly, understanding dawned on her face and she shushed him wildly.

'Are you out of your mind? You can't talk about that out on the street, if someone were to hear you...God, Jesse!' she whispered furiously.

'Sorry, sorry...,' he apologised quickly. There was a pause. 'Well, shall we go? I don't want to be late,' Jesse said, continuing down the street with Santana.

'I think we're already late,' she said, but quickened her pace.

They walked in companionable silence for a moment, when Jesse spoke.

'I don't want to be rude or anything, Santana, but you - you don't, um, look - look...um,' he stumbled, and she rolled her eyes and cut across him.

'I look like shit, yes I know, thank you very much,' she said bitterly. Jesse patted her shoulder a little awkwardly.

'No...well, yes,' he said. They both laughed weakly. 'So...why do you look like - um, like shit?' he asked. His parents were from the nice part of Berlin; he wasn't used to swearing.

'I don't know. I just feel...odd. I don't feel quite right. Today has been just the same as any other - aside from when I had to go and fill out some forms for those fucking Nazis,' she said, whispering the last part and glancing around furtively.

'Forms?' Jesse murmured. She nodded.

'I'm really worried in case they're onto me,' she replied in the same quiet tone. 'I mean, they know I'm a gypsy, and I'm as far from Aryan as you can get, so they have two reasons to hate me already. But they don't know that I'm a lesbian or that I'm in the Swing Youth. Well, I hope they don't. I don't know why they wanted information about me,' she mused worriedly. They walked on in silence for a moment, before Jesse spoke.

'I just want to say - I didn't get a chance the other night - that I don't mind that you're a lesbian. I'd never actually met a lesbian before I met you and Brittany, and I'm yet to meet a homosexual - male, that is - so it's not as if I have a great deal of homosexual acquaintances to compare you to, but nonetheless, you seem like a wonderful person, as does Brit, and I don't have any sort of problem with it,' he said, rushing through the words and sounding much more formal than he'd intended. Santana chuckled.

'Turn off the charm, St James, this isn't one of Mummy and Daddy's cocktail parties,' she said jokingly. They both laughed. 'Seriously, though...thank you, for saying that. There aren't many people that would,' she said sadly and Jesse hummed in agreement.

'I wonder if there ever will be, one day,' he mused.

'What do you mean?' Santana questioned.

'Well, do you ever think that maybe, in the future, it wouldn't matter if a person was heterosexual or homosexual?' Jesse asked.

'I can't see it happening. At least, not any time soon,' she said.

'I don't think it will happen for some years, at least not whilst we have Hitler in charge. But I think it could happen. I know it's hard to imagine now, when we are surrounded by so much prejudice and intolerance. But trust me, one day, things will be different. I can feel it. Whether or not the change comes within our lifetime is another question entirely,' he said.

'Maybe when my children are grown up. Maybe then,' Santana considered.

'You want to have children?' Jesse asked her. She nodded.

'Yes. I always have,' she told him.

'I hope you don't mind me asking...but...how?' he asked, confused.

'Brittany and I have a plan; I mean, we do have various options. One day, when we're older. And this goddamn war is over,' Santana said. Jesse wanted to ask further, but he thought it would be rude. So he kept his mouth shut and they kept walking.

'By the way,' Santana broke the silence, 'you were wrong, before. You said that you'd never met a homosexual male,' she said.

'I know. I haven't,' Jesse assured her.

Santana shook her head. 'Yes, you have. Blaine,' she said simply.

'Blaine? Really?' Jesse asked, surprised. 'He didn't say anything,' he said.

'Blaine and his boyfriend have had some - some difficulties and problems because of the negativity and prejudices that people hold because of who they are,' she told him. Jesse nodded, and she continued. 'And also, Brittany is not a lesbian,' she told him. This revelation left him dumbfounded.

'Wait...what? But she's your girlfriend - she was kissing you - and you're a girl - and you're a lesbian - so she must be a lesbian - but you're saying she isn't - what?' he asked. Santana burst out laughing.

'You've cheered me up, Jesse, I'll give you that,' she told him, still laughing.

'That didn't answer my question!' Jesse said, still trying to figure out this impossible information.

'Brittany is a homophile,' Santana told him. Jesse frowned.

'A what?' he asked. 'I've never heard of that,' he said.

'I'll explain. A homophile is someone who has relationships with men and women. Brittany doesn't love me because I'm a girl, she loves me because of who I am. Regardless of whether I have cock or cunt down below,' she said. Jesse looked at the ground, embarrassed by her language. 'Sorry. I didn't realise you were such a child,' Santana teased.

'I am not a child!' he retorted, but they were laughing again. Jesse had never had a friend like this before. He had friends, sure, but not like this. With Santana, it was so free and easy and he didn't have to think. 'So...a homophile. I'll have to look this up,' he said thoughtfully, his eager brain already desperate for this new chunk of knowledge.

They continued walking, then Santana stumbled, grabbing onto Jesse's arm for support.

'Are you alright?' he asked. Santana shook her head, frowning. 'What's the matter?' Jesse asked again, but before she could answer, Santana bolted down a side alley and vomited noisily. When it was over, she walked shakily back to Jesse, who looked at her with concern. 'Do you want to go home?' he asked, but Santana shook her head quickly.

'No. I have to be at the meeting,' she said, reaching down the front of her dress. Jesse looked away pointedly. 'Oh, don't be so silly, I'm not getting them out. Besides, they're only breasts, you've seen them before,' Santana said as she pulled out some mint leaves and chewed them to take away the vomit aftertaste. Jesse decided not to tell her that he hadn't actually seen anyone's breasts before.

They continued on towards the café, now extremely late, Santana still walking unsteadily, and vomiting twice more before arriving. As he stood next to her, trying to tune out her retches and groans, Jesse looked up at the stars, which always made him think of Rachel, his star. They had used up three days already. He sighed, hating how quickly time seemed to pass.

Jesse took Santana's arm to guide her down the street; she was now quite weak. As she told him that she 'needed a fucking drink', Jesse smiled at how different his life was becoming. How different his life was becoming. The smile slid off his face.

- I'm looking for a sign, in this, a dark uneasy time -

Day Four

'Where are we going, Jesse?' Rachel asked, clutching her boyfriend's hand as they walked through the busy streets. It was early evening, and people were everywhere.

'Tonight is going to be very special. It's your last night in Berlin,' Jesse told her. There was an uncomfortable pause, and he hurriedly spoke again, 'for now, I mean, it's your last night for a little while,' he amended.

'It's fine. I know what you meant,' she said quietly. 'So. What are we doing tonight that is so very special?' she asked, trying to lighten the mood. Jesse smiled, eager to let go of the negativity.

'Well we have several events happening tonight, my dear,' he said, putting on a fancy voice and bowing at Rachel. She giggled.

'Stop being so silly!' she told him, hitting him lightly on the arm. She took his hand again as they continued walking.

'Here we are!' Jesse said. Rachel gasped; it was her favourite restaurant in Berlin. She had only ever been there once, many years ago, but she often came and stood outside, reading the menu and imagining what she would order if she were one of the rich socialites of Berlin. Jesse had eaten here countless times; his family was the complete opposite of Rachel's.

'Jesse...we can't come here, an appetiser costs more than my house,' she said. Jesse raised his eyebrows. 'Alright, maybe not as much as my house...but it costs a lot, too much,' she said.

'You always were overdramatic,' he told her, smiling fondly, as they walked towards the entrance. As they drew closer, Rachel stopped and pointed to an all-too familiar sign hanging in the window.

'They won't let me in,' she said sadly. Even her favourite restaurant was off limits.

'It's not a problem,' Jesse said, seemingly unfazed as he led her around the building, to the back door. He knocked on the door, and after a moment a young man opened it, confused by the knocking. However, when he saw Jesse, his face broke into a smile.

'Mr St James!' he greeted, shaking Jesse's hand happily.

'Hello, Marcus. This is my girlfriend, Rachel,' Jesse said, gesturing to the surprised girl standing beside him.

'Good evening,' Rachel said politely, and Marcus took her hand and kissed it delicately. The whole exchange would have been almost romantic if they hadn't been standing in a dingy back alley.

'Ah, she is even more beautiful that you described!' Marcus exclaimed, and Rachel blushed.

'Well, I couldn't ever do justice to this girl with only my words,' Jesse said, making Rachel blush even more. 'Do you have what I asked you for?' he asked Marcus, who nodded and disappeared back inside.

'What's going on?' Rachel asked.

'It's a surprise,' he said mysteriously. After a moment, Marcus returned with a large, brown paper bag, and a bottle of wine.

'Enjoy, my dears,' he said, before closing the door.

Rachel turned to Jesse, beaming in delight at what he had done for her. 'You...you bought food from my favourite restaurant? For me?' she asked.

Jesse nodded. 'Anything for you,' he said, leaning forwards and capturing her lips. She kissed him back, and then they walked towards their favourite part of Berlin - the park. They walked past the throngs of people in the busiest part, then through the trees and finally arriving in a clearing, empty of people and practically silent. It was their place.

Jesse opened the wine, and reached into the bag, retrieving food. Rachel still couldn't quite believe it. 'I know these paper trays are a little informal,' Jesse began, but she stopped him.

'No, this is perfect. I can't believe that I am in our place, eating my favourite food, sitting right next to the man I love,' she said. Jesse looked at her, his mouth slowly curling into a smile.

'You - you love me?' he asked her. Rachel nodded. 'I love you too,' he whispered, before kissing her deeply. Rachel returned the kiss, curving her body into his. She needed to be close to Jesse, closer than ever before. It was their fourth day, their final day. She didn't know what was going to happen tomorrow. She could only control the here and now.

Rachel tentatively took Jesse's hand and moved it to rest upon her breast. He looked at her, confused, and she undid a few buttons on her blouse, exposing herself a little. Jesse's hand drifted across slightly, gently caressing her chest. Then, never breaking eye contact, reached forwards and undid a few buttons on Jesse's shirt. Rachel slowly lay back, Jesse helping her. Finally, she spoke.

'Jesse, I love you. I love you so much, I can't even explain,' she said, a little breathless.

'I love you too, Rachel,' he whispered.

There was a short pause, and then Rachel took a deep breath. 'Will you have sex with me?' she asked nervously.

'Are you sure?' Jesse asked her gently. She nodded.

'I'm absolutely certain. I want to make love to you, and I want you to make love to me. This is going to be the last time we can be together,' she said, trying to keep the tears at bay.

'Don't cry,' Jesse said, kissing her cheek softly. They were quiet for a moment. Then Jesse spoke. 'I want us to make love, too,' he confessed. Rachel smiled, and they kissed again.

He held her close, cracked her wide and shivered inside of her, feeling her body quiver in pleasure, both uttering little moans of delight at this beautiful sensation. They were everything. For this last night.

- Take this sinking boat, and point it home. We've still got time -

What did you think? PLEASE REVIEW!

a few things about the chapter:

1. in case you forget, Jesse said the whole 'four days' thing to Rachel in the previous chapter

2. the beating and the raping with broken rulers etc; all happened in Nazi Germany to gay male prisoners. sadly, it is all very true

3. 'marks' is the old German currency. so 'a few marks' is like a few euros/dollars/pounds/rupees or whatever

4. yes, in this story, Santana is a gypsy. in case you didn't know, the Nazis also persecuted gypsies and travellers as well as Jews and homosexuals

5. again, Aryan is the term for the 'master race' that Hitler promoted; people with blonde hair, blue eyes, slim and muscular. you can google it for more info.

6. 'homophile' is the old term for bisexual. they didn't have the word 'bisexual' back then, so I've described Brittany as a homophile. it means exactly the same thing as bisexual, you can google it if you want. the term 'homophile' is not used anymore.

7. the whole thing with Santana and the forms and the vomiting...it will all become clear soon

8. I know you're probably wondering why Rachel is so excited about getting takeout - just remember that there was no such thing back then. it would have been unheard of, thus, why Rachel found it deeply romantic and special and amazing.

Ok, so, REVIEW or I won't update! REVIEW!