October 28th, 1918 - German Hospital

Kurt

It was the feeling of heavy fog being lifted as Kurt slowly opened his eyes. The pain in his left leg was dull but lingering. Kurt lifted his head and took in his surroundings, dreading the thought that he was still lying in filth, bleeding into the water.

Yet when he fully opened his eyes he saw that he was instead lying on a cot, with a cotton blanket tucked into the sides of his mattress. Instantly his mind relaxed, he was now far from no man's land and secure in a warm bed with a pillow under his head.

Kurt attempted to clear his head with a quick shake but instead was greeted with a throbbing pain. He was trying to figure out how he had gotten to the comfort of a bed when the last thing he remembered was the scent of his own blood mixed with the rotting smell of the battlefield.

It was then that a terrifying thought crossed his mind, what if it was only a dream? What if he still was in that hole waiting for death? Not in a warm bed, but instead hallucinating from the pain?

Gathering some courage Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath as he moved his hand to pinch his good leg, just to make sure it wasn't a dream. Kurt flinched as he dug his nails into the sensitive skin of his right thigh. With a great sigh he relaxed and his mind settled. He was safe from the trenches, at least for the time being.

Kurt tried to shuffle on the cot and find a more comfortable position but he only succeeded in causing himself more pain. Groaning in frustration Kurt gave up, staring at the ceiling as tears started to prickle at the back of his eyes.

"Nurse Fabray, the kid's awake." A voice called from Kurt's right. Swinging his head, he saw a man sitting up in his cot, a book open in his lap, looking at Kurt with a bright smile.

Kurt groaned at the sudden movement, cursing quietly under his breath.

The man let out a hardy chuckle, "Nice to see you're awake, kid. Just take it easy until the pretty nurse looks you over." The man winked as he turned his attention to the nurse that was hurrying to Kurt's bedside.

Following the man's gaze Kurt saw a young woman wearing a white dress coming over to his side, her bright white cap sitting on top of her blonde hair which was styled in the latest fashion. She wore a kind smile and approached Kurt's bed with a look of concern in her eyes.

The nurse placed one of her delicate hands on his shoulder, "Herr Hummel?" Kurt looked into bright green eyes, giving a dainty smile in acknowledgment. The nurse gave a small smile in return, "How are you feeling? Any pain?"

"Well, of course he's in pain. He got shot." the man in the next bed offered the Nurse.

The nurse sighed, giving a pointed look to the other man, "Honestly, Lieutenant-"

"Rolph."

The nurse glared at Rolph. "Lieutenant Kraus," She reiterated, her voice growing stern "now is not the time." She said shaking her head as she turned her attention back to Kurt, all signs of annoyance leaving her face as she asked him again if he had any pain.

Kurt quickly analyzed his tired body, starting from his toes and working his way up to his skull. "My head and my left leg," he slurred, "but it's more of a throbbing than anything else." He assured her as she looked at Kurt with pity in her eyes.

"I can get you some pain medication," she said as she reached for his chart at the foot of his bed marking something down. "And while I'm at it I'll let the doctor know that you are awake." She said more to herself than to Kurt.

She smiled patting his good leg as she placed his chart back at the foot of the bed, then looked pointedly into his eyes "You should get some more rest, Private. I'll be back with your medication in a few minutes."

Kurt gave the young woman a weak smile, as he leaned his head back into the pillow, his eyes growing heavy. It didn't take long for Kurt to lull into a dream about the warm hazel eyes of an Englishman named Blaine.

 Kurt and Blaine were sitting in a green meadow lying in each other's arms as they watched the clouds drift past looking for various figures. The young men would stare into each other's eyes, laughing at the ridiculous shapes that they found. As a silence came between them Blaine looked deep into Kurt's eyes causing a blush to grace his cheek. Blaine gave Kurt a crooked grin as he gently brushed his knuckles across the flushed skin of Kurt's cheek. That smile along with his touch sent pleasant chills down Kurt's spine, as he waited for Blaine to lean forward to plant a soft kiss against his lips.

Kurt was vaulted out of his dream by the firm shaking of his shoulder by a soft hand. A female voice pulled him the rest of the way to awake. "Herr Hummel? Herr Hummel?" Kurt groaned and opened his eyes to see the same young nurse again. A part of him wanted to hate her for interrupting his fantasies, but then he remembered as a flash of pain shot up his leg that she would have the medication he craved.

As if reading his thoughts she produced two small pills. Kurt struggled to sit up in his bed, but succeeded with the help of Nurse Fabray once she noticed he was floundering.

Kurt once again was confused as to why he was so exhausted from such a small movement as he became settled against the wall with a pillow behind his back. There was obviously something that he was missing that no one seemed to be telling him.

The nurse poured him a glass of water, from the jug on the bedside table between himself and Rolph. "Here, you are Private." She dropped the pills in his outstretched palm, watching him as he threw the pills back, nodding his thanks.

Smiling, Nurse Fabray handed him the glass. "Slowly." She warned as Kurt began to take large gulps of the water.

When he'd drained the glass, the nurse placed it back on the side table.

"The doctor should be here shortly, he's-"

"Giving one of the nurses a checkup." Rolph quipped. His smile grew at the look of complete shock on the Nurse Fabray's face.

"No, actually, he's in an emergency surgery." She said with a hint of sarcasm before her face grew somber, as she turned her stern green eyes on Rolph, "Your subordinate, private Schuester started to hemorrhage."

All of the laughter left Rolph's eyes. "He better be as good of a doctor he says he is. I refuse to lose another of my men."

"He's doing his best." The woman assured him, giving Rolph a comforting smile.

Without a word Rolph flopped back in his bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Just ignore him, he's moody." Nurse Fabray joked as she began to check Kurt's vitals.

A snorting noise came from Rolph's bed, "Nurse Fabray, let me remind you I lost a leg, not my hearing." He retaliated, turning his body towards them.

Completely surprised by Rolph's words, Kurt turned to truly look at man. Something he hadn't done yet because he was still regaining his coherency.

Rolph was a powerfully built man, who had a head of brown hair cut in a traditional manor. His brown eyes shone with amusement at Kurt's sudden interest. Shifting his eyes lower Kurt saw what Rolph was jesting about; he was indeed missing a part of his right leg, ending just below the knee.

Suddenly feeling awful for staring Kurt turned his attention back to Rolph's face, whose eye's still seemed amused.

"You're a lucky one, Private," Rolph smiled weakly.

Kurt nodded, feeling utterly ashamed that he had been wallowing in self-pity earlier when others were suffering far worse than himself.

"Enough, Rolph." Nurse Fabray said sternly.

"It's fine," Kurt spoke up, his voice sounding hoarse from misuse.

He looked between the two of them, watching as Nurse Fabray gave Rolph an icy glare before turning to look at Kurt's chart. She mumbled under her breath at how he was "the most annoying man she had ever met."

Rolph on the other hand had maneuvered himself into a sitting position once again, while a wolfish grin played on his lips. "Rolph...you know, Nurse, you never call me Rolph."

Nurse Fabray froze, as a small blush started to rise on her cheeks. "I-It was a slip of the tongue." She stuttered turning her bright green eyes back to Rolph, "it won't happen again I can assure you Lieutenant."

Rolph's smile grew at the nurse's unease.

"Now, if only I could know what your name is..."

Nurse Fabray rolled her eyes, "You know very well I can't give you my name-"

A commotion from the far end of the room ended the banter between the two of them. Kurt watched as a gurney was being moved to another room; a body laid on top was covered from head to toe by a reddened blanket.

"Another one." Rolph whispered shaking his head.

Nurse Fabray heaved a great sigh before lowering herself to sit at the foot of the bed.

"It seems like it never ends..." she murmured.

"It won't." Kurt said, startling the two of them from their quite moment. "It won't end until someone wins this damn war or we all die trying."

October, 1918 - British Field Hospital

Blaine

Blaine hadn't really argued at his makeshift trial, in fact he hadn't said anything at all. Not about Cooper, his night in No Man's land or Kurt. Those things, though not actually secrets, were something that he would keep to himself for the rest of his life.

The whole thing lasted over two hours. Blaine had been marched in with two intimidating MPs on either side and was forced to stand in the middle of a shabby looking room while stuffy older men in stiff and polished uniforms conversed. In the end he found himself lucky. Not only was he not going to have to face the firing squad but he wasn't about to be dishonourably discharged either. Rather he was being demoted and removed from the front lines for ‘actions deemed to be insubordinate'. It was a slap on wrist and Blaine knew it was the best thing he could have hoped for, so he thanked them with a very straight face only once breaking his stoic composure to flash a smug smirk in the direction of a fuming Sandy Ryerson who cursed and hollered before being subdued by another officer. Blaine was unceremoniously dragged back out the door he had come in.

The ‘stationary hospital', which despite its name was really just a definite field hospital, was located close enough the Somme river that on clear and quite nights the ringing of the guns could still be heard. The place could hold up to four hundred wounded but six hundred could be squeezed in if needed and Blaine rarely every saw less than three quarters of the makeshift beds full. He was now a stretcher bearer, far away from the action but not far enough from the groans and cries of dying men.

Officially he worked under the lead medical officer, a sergeant that he had yet to meet. Unofficially the ruler of the roost was Head Nurse Beiste, a formidable woman that seemed more wrestler then nurse. She towered over the other women but could do twice the work in half the time, still in an orderly fashion. Behind her back everyone, including the multitude of injured soldiers, joked that if not restricted by her gender (which was debatable) Beiste could have won the war herself. The German's would take one look at her and throw down all their weapons. She was a strict woman, who had taken one look at Blaine and demanded he roll up his selves and help hold down one man who was shaking and cursing, so she could jab a sever looking needle into his forearm.

His partner was a short, thin, Irish boy named Rory Flanagan. He wasn't very good at the lifting part of this job but he seemed to want to help in any way possible. After one look at his baby face and bright smile, his regiment had decided to leave him here to aid the wounded rather than have him face the front lines. Blaine was thankful for this. It had been obvious after having spent twenty minutes alone with the boy that Rory had been lying about his age when he told his recruiting sergeants that he was eighteen. The boy was slight and could barely hold up his end of the stretcher. He couldn't have been older then sixteen and he was getting them a reputation as the least-desirable pair of stretcher-carriers in the entire British army.

"Well, you see. There's a girl." Rory had started. They had been partners for close to a month now and Blaine felt that they were at that point where he could ask the hard questions. At that moment they had tucked themselves away into a dusty and dim corner were Rory had relighted a slightly crushed fag and Blaine munched on a stale biscuit Beiste had forced on him earlier. Their stretcher was leaning next to them against the wall. Blaine nodded and made an encouraging hum.

"Her name's Sugar and she's the prettiest thing I've ever seen." The kid had gotten this far-off and dopy look, and Blaine couldn't help but feel warmth spread through his chest. Rory was just precious, like a little brother he had never known he wanted. It was getting to know Rory that made Blaine realize that it was okay for him to be getting over Cooper being dead. It's what his brother would have wanted. However, some mornings when he was still groggy with sleep, the familiar soul-crushing punch-to-the-gut made him want to scream and lash out.     

 "Alright. So, what does that have to do with lying to join the army?" Rory flushed bright red and seemed to find the remnants of his last drag to be very interesting. Blaine pushed for more, kicking the kid lightly in shin with the tip of his newest pair of boots. These ones were now only one size larger than his feet. If he wore two pairs of socks he didn't even notice the extra space.

"She doesn't know me." He confided in a small voice as Blaine sighed, already getting the gist of what this meant.

"Rory, have you ever actually talked to this girl?" he asked, his voice strained. The continual blush that decorated Rory's rounded face answered for him and Blaine had to try and hold back another sigh.

"Let me guess. That's a no. So you joined the army thinking that will get her attention but you've never actually even spoken to her." Rory just nodded and this left Blaine in a state of almost hysterics.

"Oh, you dumb fuck." He choked out "You bloody idiot. You're willing to die in this fucking shit hole so some girl would notice you!"

Rory got redder by the moment, his eyes darting about to make sure that no one was actually paying attention to their conversation. He dropped the remnants of his fag, stepping on the still smoldering end with a huff as Blaine continued to laugh wildly.

"She's not just some girl! She's the girl!"

Blaine tried to get himself under control, finally realizing that he had upset the kid. That hadn't been his intention but the situation had seemed so unbelievable, so ridiculous, that he let the humour of it all get the best of him.

"I get it." Rory didn't seem to believe him but he allowed Blaine to continue uninterrupted. "You're in love with her. So here is what you're going to do."

The boy seemed interested in what Blaine, who was both older and wiser, was about to say. It was obvious that in his mind Blaine was suave and most likely had his own sweetheart, or many, back home. He couldn't have been more further from the truth, but Blaine had caught the boy staring intently each and every time he had been eyeing the smudged sketch of Kurt and let the boy just think what he wanted.

"You're going to go back. You're going to survive and go back to Dublin. Then you're going to tell her that you love her! Do you hear me, kid? YOU TELL HER!" He practically shouted the last bit before reaching out and ruffling the younger man's dark hair, a small smile stretching across his face. Rory groaned and pushed the offending limb away.

"Anderson, Flanagan! Back to work." Beiste's voice seemed to reverberate around the room, snapping the two out of their moment and drawing in the attention of some conscious and coherent casualties, all who groaned loudly the moment they saw Blaine and Rory reach for their stretcher.    

October 29th, 1918 - German Hospital

Kurt

It was a few hours later that the doctor finally came to Kurt's bedside to talk to him about his injury, he was a dark haired man that was about six feet tall. He was quite handsome, with a strong jawline, and large brown eyes. But the poor man looked as if he hadn't slept in days, his uniform was wrinkled and the sleeves were spotted with blood.

The doctor smiled sweetly at the nurses as he walked by earning himself a number of shy glances and blushing cheeks from the women, and it seemed that Nurse Fabray was no exception.

She blushed as the doctor came up to her side placing a hand at the small of her back talking quietly into her ear as he glanced over Kurt's chart.

Rolph, however, didn't seem so enthused with the situation and cleared his throat to gain the attention of the two medical personnel. He glared at the doctor while he moved to sit up, frowning at Nurse Fabray as she turned her attention to the frayed blanket covering Kurt's feet.

"What happened to Private Schuester?" Rolph asked sternly, his eyes returning to the doctors.

The doctor sighed as he ran a hand through his dark hair, "I'm sorry but I did what I could, he was already too far gone to do anything more."

Kurt turned to look at Rolph, who had closed his eyes, leaned his back against the wall and was taking some deep, calming breaths.

Nurse Fabray moved to sit on the foot of Rolph's bed placing a hand on his good leg in comfort. "I'm so sorry, Lieutenant-"

"Miss Fabray, do you mind fetching me some new linens for Private Hummel?" the doctor asked leering at Rolph. "I would like to have his wound redressed."

"Of course, Captain." She said giving Rolph's leg one last squeeze before she left in search of bandages.

"I'm Captain Carl Howell" the doctor said as he moved to stand on Kurt's left side to inspect his leg. He carefully stared to remove the bandage, revealing an angry wound that was stitched together with a skilled hand. "Well, you're a lucky one, Private Hummel. The bullet nicked your femoral artery, causing you to lose quite a bit of blood, but we were able to stabilize you pretty quickly once you were sent to us."

Kurt just stared at the man as he began to ramble about Kurt's injury, nodding and humming at the appropriate times. But Kurt only half listened, his mind was running around with the notion that he may be injured enough to get sent home. Something he hadn't dared to think about for months.

"-you were unconscious for a few days because of your blood loss. Which is normal, but unfortunately during your move you developed a mild infection in the leg and we had to remove a small amount of flesh. We caught it early enough that there shouldn't be any permanent damage and your body seems to be clearing up the rest very well." Doctor Howell continued, stopping to accept the bandages that Nurse Fabray offered him, before he began to rebound his leg.

"Now with the injury to your leg, you may have a slight limp," Captain Howell finished tying the cloth. "I can't determine whether it will be permanent. And since I can't say whether you're walking will be affected I'm going to sign the papers for you to be discharged..."

Kurt stopped listening after he heard that one word. He was never going to have to live in the trenches again. He could go home and sleep in his own bed. He could see his family, and begin his life again.

"Private?" Captain Howell asked with a raised eyebrow. "Are you alright?"

Kurt observed the doctor in confusion. "I'm sorry?" He asked, looking at Rolph for clarification.

"You're crying, kid." He stated simply, a look of understanding on his face.

Raising a hand to his cheek, Kurt felt the tears that were falling from his eyes. He glanced back at Rolph then the doctor and Nurse Fabray, "I-I'm sorry, I just-"

"I understand, kid." Rolph said, giving him a small smile.

Once the words were spoken the floodgates seemed to open as Kurt no longer held back his tears of relief. He was going home.

"You will need to stay for at least a few weeks, so we can get you walking again." Captain Howell explained quickly, "But you will get to go home, as soon as I feel you're able."

Nodding his understanding, Kurt wiped at the tears with the back of his hand. "Thank you, Sir."

"No need to thank me, Private, I'm just trying to do my job." The Captain said, as he turned on his heel and walked towards another bed.

Nurse Fabray walked up to Kurt's bedside, holding out a couple of pain pills for him.

He smiled and accepted the pills offered, waiting patiently for the glass of water she was pouring. "You're doing quite well." She remarked as she handed him the glass.

Kurt hummed the affirmative, "I just wish the pain would stop." he mumbled, swallowing the pills.

"You are pushing yourself too hard." She half-heartedly teased.

"I have to otherwise I'll never get to leave this place." He said, with a sigh, looking around the dimly lit room.

"You will, Private." She whispered, helping Kurt further into his makeshift bed.

Kurt grimaced as a flash of pain shot through his leg. Once he was situated with his back to the wall and the borrowed book spread open in his lap he scanned Nurse Fabray's face, trying to better understand her. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" She asked, glancing up from her task of tucking Kurt in.

"How do you handle this?" He gestured with his hands to the room around them, where forty makeshift beds lined the two opposite walls. The injured men slept in beds made of boards and crates, with handmade straw mattresses laying on top for some comfort. And the noises of the men groaning in their sleep echoed against the stark white walls.

A small pained smile touched her lips, "It becomes normal, I guess."

Kurt snorted, shaking his head. "So, you're telling me your normal is basically blood and death."

She smiled slightly. "Unfortunately, yes. But sometimes I get to see some of the men get better, like you and the Lieutenant-"

"But then you see some get better only to be sent back." He countered.

Her smile wavered, as she stood shielding her body with her folded arms. She observed Kurt for a moment before she spoke again her voice barely a whisper. "What's it like?"

Kurt stared at her in confusion, "I'm sorry?"

The nurse looked torn for a moment before she grabbed a stool that sat at the edge of Rolph's bed, moving it to sit close to Kurt's head. "What is it like?" she whispered again, glancing around the room to make sure the rest of the men were sleeping around them.

"I really have no idea what you are asking me."

She sighed, obviously growing frustrated with Kurt's lack of understanding. "The trenches, what are the trenches like?"

Kurt stared at Nurse Fabray with wide eyes. She sat patiently waiting for him to respond, her green eyes shining with enthusiasm.

Shaking his head he began to fidget with the lose threads of his blanket. "Why?" he whispered, slowly closing in on himself.

She shrugged. "Because no one will tell me, and how can I help you men if I have no idea what I'm even dealing with."

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Kurt turned his blue eyes to look at Nurse Fabray. "Hell."

He watched as her eyes widened for a moment before a frown grew on her lips. "Hell?"

He nodded. "It's the only way to explain it." Continuing to play with the loose thread of his blanket, "There is nothing like it."

Feeling a dip in the bed, he glanced up from his hands to see Nurse Fabray leaning forward to place her elbows on the mattress.

Letting out another sigh, Kurt turned slightly, which was met by an encouraging smile from Nurse Fabray. "All you need to know is it's hell, the smells, the sounds... No one should have to experience it, but we did..."

Glancing around the room, he listened to the sounds of sniffling and groans of pain from the sleeping men, and they were the lucky ones. Fixing his eyes back on Nurse Fabray he continued, "We would rather die than go back to that place, and most if not all of the men that do get sent back will die in that place."

Kurt watched as her expression turned regretful, "The men don't fight for Germany anymore, we fight for our lives."

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have asked." She quickly mumbled wiping a stray tear from her eye. "I've made you remember things that you want to forget."

"It's fine." Kurt said simply, watching Nurse Fabray stand and attempt to remove the wrinkles from her uniform.

"I never should have asked..." she mumbled as she replaced the stool, before excusing herself to get back to her duties.

Leaning back against the wall, Kurt let his head fall back as he closed his eyes murmuring to himself, "No, what never should've happened was this damn war."