December 1918 - Düsseldorf, Germany

Kurt

Kurt was ecstatic when his father agreed to his idea of starting up his own tailoring business out of the storage room of the shop. Even though Kurt knew that mostly Burt's reason for agreeing was to get Kurt out of the house and away from his sister in hopes he wouldn't kill her, while keeping Kurt from going crazy at the same time.

When he had first established his business Kurt only had a handful of customers, all of which were family and friends that had wanted to encourage Kurt. However, through word of mouth and people actually beginning to wear his clothes, Kurt found his clientele growing rapidly. Soon over half the neighborhood came to him for his sewing expertise, which kept him busy and kept his mind out of the trenches.

It was on a rainy day that Kurt allowed his mind to wander back into a muddy shell hole, and dwell on a certain British soldier. He wondered what Blaine was doing now, and if Blaine was even alive. Kurt had never told his family about Blaine; it was a sweet memory that he kept to himself to protect it from being tarnished.

Kurt sighed and tucked the gold regiment pin, which hung on a matching chain around his neck, into his shirt. These days, Kurt found himself thinking of Blaine often. Wondering what had happened to him, daydreaming about their impossible reunion.

Shaking the romantic thoughts from his head, Kurt returned to work on the quaint dress he had designed for Anna. He scolded himself for letting his mind wander back to Blaine when he knew nothing would come of it. He didn't know the man, and he wasn't even completely sure Blaine was gay! It seemed quite likely, but Kurt didn't have any experience with British people, it was possible that he was just overly affectionate.

He had decided a week ago that it was time for him to find a nice girl and settle down, forget his preferences for men and do what was expected. Kurt had decided that Lena's wedding would be the opportune time to begin such a search, since there would be plenty of women looking for exactly what Lena was getting.

Kurt had told his father of his intentions the previous night, and Burt had only looked at Kurt with anguish written all over his face. Burt assured Kurt that he would be able to find someone that he could be close to all the while being secretive so no one else would be aware.

Kurt was sick of having to hide, and the thought of finding someone so secretly was daunting. So instead Kurt decided to take the easier path, whether it was what he truly wanted or not.

February 17th, 1919 - London, England

Blaine

The small brownstone where Jeff lived had seen better days, much better days. The edges were crumbling and jagged while frozen weeds were poking through the cracks in the concrete steps that lead to the paint-chipped door. 

Blaine walked up the foreboding steps and set down his suitcase before knocking and waiting politely until a rather large and hairy man opened the door in only his trousers and soiled undershirt, a fag hanging sadly from his pursed lips.

"Yeah?" he barked, looking at Blaine in his clean clothes and slightly scuffed shoes like he was some kind of pariah. Blaine just smiled weakly in return and tried to ignore the familiar sting of smoke in his eyes as the man carelessly blew out thick smoke.

"I'm here to see Jeff Sterling." The man paused and looked at him a second longer before moving to the side and waving a hand for Blaine to enter. Blaine heaved a sigh of relief, happily grabbed the handle of his pack and scrambled inside.

"He expecting you?" the man asked once everything was in the door and he had kicked it shut. The inside was much worse than the outside, with grimy, flowered wallpaper pealing at the top and an ancient staircase which probably hadn't seen a bucket of water since the last decade. Blaine sniffed, his face crinkling at the musty smell that permeated every inch of the first floor but quickly waved it off. Beggars couldn't be choosers and he had lived in much worse places.

"Not exactly. I didn't get his letter until this morning and I'm leaving tomorrow so I thought I'd just drop in and say goodbye. Didn't really get to last time."

The man was staring at him with a mixed expression, half suspicion and half pity. Blaine figured he had realized they had served in the war together.

"Well, up the stairs. First door on the right."

Blaine smiled and gave his thanks before cautiously starting up the stairs, wincing at the deep shudder it gave, silently praying that he didn't fall through and die. That would be very upsetting.

The first door on the second landing looked only marginally better than the front door. The paint was only a little scuffed at the bottom but the numbers that had been screwed in were tarnished and crooked, one was hanging upside down. Blaine knocked loudly and it sounded deafening in the empty corridor. A few muffled curse words reached him through the chunk of wood as things scrapped and clattered about. It all made Blaine smile, but that quickly died when the door opened and a haggard looking head popped out which didn't belong to Jeff.

"Nick?"

A thin smile broke across the brunet's face as he finally realized who was standing outside his door.

"Well, if it isn't Blaine fucking Anderson. Come to finally grace us with your presence?" he joked, straightening himself out and opening the door wider. Despite his joke, he didn't look impressed to see Blaine and that caused the other to start fidgeting, tugging at the sleeves of his coat and shuffling his wet feet.

"I...er..." Blaine paused, taking a deep breath before reaching into his deep pocket and pulling out a crinkled paper bag. "I brought some whiskey."

Nick opened the door and gestured for Blaine to enter, reaching out and plucking the bottle from his hands and holding it close to his face.

"Damn, this is the good stuff too." He muttered, walking into the front room that doubled as the kitchen and sitting room. He flopped down onto a rickety, wooden chair and set the bottle on the scratched kitchen table.

"Hey, Jeff. Get out here. Our favourite crazy man has come to visit!"  

The blond stumbled from what Blaine could only guess was the bedroom. Jeff was blurry-eyed and bare-chested and didn't seem to acknowledge Blaine's presence.

"You can go ahead and ignore him for the next ten minutes until he wakes up. He works nights and sleeps during the day." Nick added, pulling out a fag from the pack that had been lying on the table. He lit it with a flick of the sliver lighter that had been pulled from his pocket. Blaine smiled at that.

"Set down your bag." He took a long drag, blowing the smoke upwards with a content look on his face. He watched with sharp eyes as Blaine dropped the bag.

"You look good, Anderson. New suit." Blaine loosened the tie around his throat and popped open the buttons of his jacket before slipping it and his winter coat off and throwing them over the back of another chair.

"Yeah, had to buy one for my father's service. All my old ones were too small." He replied, taking a seat at the table. Nick cringed, feeling like a prat.

"Sorry mate. Didn't know."

"I know, no harm no fowl. He was an arse."

It was uncomfortably quiet for a moment, and Nick reached out to offer Blaine a fag which he declined and they settled into silence.

"When the hell did Blaine get here?" Jeff was still standing in the kitchen rubbing his eye and yawning but now coherent enough to notice what was going on around him. Blaine grinned and waved, which was eagerly returned with a sleepy smile.

"Glad to see you're not dead." The blond joked, pulling out another chair and spinning it around so he could sit down on it backwards. His arms resting on its high back as he laid his chin down atop them.

"Me too." Blaine responded, causing Nick to laugh and then choke on smoke which urged Jeff to reach out and smack him solidly on the back.  

"So what brings you here?" the blond asked, turning his attention back to the curly haired man seated across from him. Blaine smile wistfully.

"Finally got your letter and thought I'd drop by to say goodbye this time." Nick, finally over his coughing fit, looked over at him confused.

"Goodbye?"

"Yeah." Blaine nodded to himself "I'm leaving tomorrow. Don't know where, probably America. I just can't stay here and be suffocated."

Jeff nodded as if understanding while Nick scoffed loudly, taking another long drag and then crushing the butt onto the table which earned him another smack from his roommate. Blaine sniggered quietly.

"Well then, we've got to celebrate your last day here on good English soil." Nick smirked and reached out, pulling the whiskey from its package and lightly shaking it in their faces. Blaine exchanged a look with Jeff. Both smiled wickedly and set about clearing the table and getting some fairly clean glasses, laughing while Nick tried to open the bottle.

Blaine figured he must have been on his second glass of whatever Nick and Jeff had been able to scrounge up after they had finished the whiskey an hour ago. It was dark outside and pretty obvious that Blaine was expected to stay the night. Nick was still sitting in his original spot only this time around more of his weight was being supported by the kitchen table then the actual chair. Jeff was at the stove, stirring a pot of beans they had found in one of the cabinets, and laughing at the story Nick had been stuttering out.

"I heard that Trent and Amy huge-knockers got married." Blaine hummed appreciatively around the rim of his glass as he took another swig. They were swiftly approaching war territory, telling jokes about stuffy, tight-arsed captains and poor sods that never made it back to the trenches.

"Ryerson died, you know." Blaine looked over at Nick who blew out a sigh and scratched at the table top with a dirty broken nail. "Took some shrapnel to the face, I heard. Didn't see it myself but didn't really care too. Hated the guy, but still no one deserved to go that way. Not even those damn Huns."

Jeff turned off the stove and dumped the beans into three equally chipped bowls before setting them down on the table, reaching over and patting Nick's slumped shoulder.

"He gets like this when he drinks. Just try to humour him, or ignore it if it makes you uncomfortable." Blaine nodded and downed what was left in his glass setting it out in front of Nick to be filled. The brunet smiled and eagerly poured in whatever was in the closest bottle.

"What happened that night, Blaine?" Nick asked as he slid the drink back to him, leaving a wet trail across the table. Blaine hesitated, turning to look at Jeff who avoided all eye contact and picked at the food in his bowl.

"I think I deserve to know mate! You almost killed me!" The brunet's face was flushed and he looked to be on the verge of anger as he stared Blaine down, demanding the truth while he twirled the shiny lighter between his fingers. It was obvious that this was something that plagued him and even though the war was over, he couldn't seem to move on from that point. Blaine sighed and took his drink, downing it again quickly.

"Cooper's dead." He started, feeling their gazes heavy on his shoulders. "I found out that night. Got hit with some shrapnel." The story that followed was heartbreaking and when he was finished there was not a single dry eye in the room.

"Christ." Nick muttered. It was quickly seconded by Jeff who stared disbelieving down at his bowl before pushing it away. The scrapping sound resounded throughout the silent apartment. Blaine wiped furiously at his red eyes and inhaled in deep shuddering breaths trying to calm himself.

"...and what about this Kurt fellow?" Jeff asked. Blaine shook his head.

"Never saw him again. He left before I woke up. He's probably dead." He replied, hating the way the thought made his heart clench painfully and the bile rise in his throat.

"Don't think like that, Blaine!" Nick suddenly shouted, jumping to his feet before slumping back down into his chair swearing and holding his head tightly. Jeff reached out and smoothed back the dark fringe from his friend's forehead.

"I think it's time you went to bed." He said, swiping his thumb once more across Nick's brow. Blaine suddenly felt as if he was encroaching on a very private moment, so he looked away until Nick's protest drew his attention.

"No, Blaine has to go find that damn krout! Promise me, Blaine, you'll find Kurt and...and..." a loud thump ended that sentence as Nick passed out cold, much to the other men's surprise. Jeff just smiled fondly down and stood up, waving Blaine over to help him haul Nick into the small bedroom just off the front room, where they gingerly laid him out on the bed.

"So, you've got your choice. Take the bed and deal with him all night or take the floor and fear the wrath of the dust bunnies." Jeff snickered at his own joke while Blaine rolled his eyes and stole the quilt off a small steamer trunk at the foot of the bed.

"I'll take the floor. I remember that he kicks in his sleep." Jeff continued to snicker as he hauled himself onto the bed, pushing Nick's sprawled limbs out of the way. Blaine hunkered down and laid the quilt out as nicely as possible only pausing when a pillow hit him on the back of the head.

"Night, Anderson."

"Goodnight, Sterling."

Blaine didn't sleep much that night, ideas and decisions churning around in his head. When he finally did it was to the flailing and quite whimpers of Nick and the reassuring hums of Jeff.

February 18th, 1919 - London, England

Blaine

Nick and Jeff were there to see him off at the Action Central rail station, both looking haggard and hung over in rumpled trousers and long winter coats. At least Jeff had the thought to throw on a cap to hide his case of bed head while Nick's hair was sticking up everywhere. They received more than their fair share of disapproving glances, especially when Blaine reached out and let himself be hugged by them in a very tight and manly fashion, which meant the use of some very vulgar terms that scandalised some of the mothers brushing past with small children.

"You better write you wanker!" Nick reached out and mussed Blaine's perfectly gelled hair, which earned him a light punch to the arm.

"Even better, you arsehole, I'll visit sometime. Germany ain't that far." The look that crossed both men's faces made it all worth it as Blaine was drawn into another tight hug and even as the whistle blew and the conductor called for all passengers. Blaine lingered, knowing that it might be a long time before he ever saw his best friends again.

The train left promptly at eleven thirty-five with Blaine sitting at a window seat smiling at the two idiots still on the platform grinning and waving at him like two escaped asylum patients. At that moment Blaine knew that this was the right decision so he settled in for his quick ride over to Harwich. From the coast he would take a ferry across to the city of Hook in Holland, something he was generally not looking forward to seeing as the last time he was being shipped across to the mainland it was to kill Germans. Maybe, just maybe, he was also a little nervous about having to get on another boat. Not that he was scared or anything it's just that ships have a tendency to sink with all hands on deck and drowning doesn't seem to be quite a pleasant way to die.

Blaine spent that part of the journey holed up in his small, cramped cabin scribbling in his journal, listening in politely to other people's conversations trying to decipher just what exactly they were saying and praying not to die.

From Hook he jumped another train to Rotterdam from where he switched to yet another one that was taking him to Brussels. It wasn't an overnight train but it would reach the capital at three in the morning which gave him only a few minutes to race to catch his three fifteen train which would finally take him into Germany.    

Blaine spent the majority of that ride confined to his car were he dozed lightly, penned out some rather exaggerated sketches of his fellow passengers and wrote little poems that made him laugh. Luckily, in Hook he had been able to pick up a dime store crime novel written in English but decided to hold off on reading that until this two day ride to Cologne.

It was a sleeper train and thus Blaine would be forced into tight quarters with strangers and told to sleep. Luckily he had perfected such a thing over the past four years and this made him confident that no one would be able to swipe the bag from under his nose.

That last two day push was the one thing Blaine dreaded most of all, even more then the quick hop across the channel. He feared looking out the windows and seeing the same things that haunted his dreams. A raped landscape soaked so heavily in blood that nothing would ever grow again where tattered bodies hung from long strings of barbed wire. 

It was snowing in Brussels when the train arrived and Blaine shivered, not even outside of the heated car yet, remembering years of the biting cold that could tear flesh from bone. Not many people were getting off at this station, most continuing south and someplace Blaine had seen too much of. However, those who did were yawning widely behind fists as they pulled overstuffed bags from compartments and languidly strolled into the warmth provided from the building in front of them.

Blaine just had time to quickly grab his suitcase and race off down the platform, dodging other travellers who squawked indigently in French throwing their fists his way. He ignored them as he scrambled onto the right platform where he slid to a quick stop only to watch the train pulling away at a quick pace. A loud curse left his lips as he kicked at the layer of snow resting on the wooden floor, sending some of it flying. Blaine dropped his suitcase and ran his fingers through his hair, sighing because he could just feel the product washing away from the large fluffy flakes that he could see landing on his shoulders and eyelashes.

"Excusez-moi! Pardon!" A soft squeak broke Blaine from his pouting. He turned his head to see a slender woman bundled tightly in thick wool clothing trying to push a heavy looking pram up some stairs and failing miserably.

"Ne pleure pas" she whispered, trying to sooth her nerves and that of the baby crying inside the stroller as she continued to try and push it onto the platform. Blaine rushed over, grabbing the back sides and effortlessly lifting it up those few inches until the back wheels could find traction on the flat floor.

"Merci, merci à vous!" Blaine shrugged and moved out of her way as she finally made it up the stairs.

"Pas de problem." He murmured, slightly embarrassed over how he stumbled over the French words. She seemed to catch on that he was, in fact, not from these parts and stared up at him with a very quizzical expression, she seemed about to say something but the baby started to cry again.

"Bien maintenant, darling." She cooed while reaching into the pram and pulling out a small bundle of blankets, in which Blaine assumed there was a child, hopefully.

"English?" She asked, her accent very thick. The baby was settling down now, she held it close to her chest and patted softly at its back, while lightly bouncing at the knees.

"Yes." He replied watching the mother and child interacting. He could see the tiny pale face poking through the quilt but he couldn't tell if it was a boy or girl and the woman didn't seemed inclined to talk anymore so they stood there quietly waiting for the next train. The silence was ringing in Blaine's ears and making him feel twitchy again, his hands fidgeted with the ends of his sleeves and he shuffled his feet about.

"w'at brings ‘ou to Brussels?"

Her quite voice startled him and Blaine hesitated before answering truthfully, carefully watching the woman's face.

"I'm visiting a friend...of sorts." He didn't know how to categorize the relationship between himself and Kurt. They weren't exactly friends; he had tried to kill the boy the first time he saw him but they had gained some form of camaraderie and left not entirely as enemies.

"I didn't think that there was much friendship between the British and the Germans." She stated, not harshly or venomously but as a matter of fact. Blaine laughed to himself a little.

"It's...complicated." He replied. She looked up at him and smiled a sad smile.

"It always is, isn't it?"

Blaine nodded and watched as another train pulled into the station and the woman readied herself and the baby, jiggling it from arm to arm trying to place it back down in the pram without it crying again.

"I could push that in for you." Blaine offered, reaching down and grabbing the handle of his suitcase. The woman looked him up and down carefully before nodding and moving to make her way to the stairs that would lead inside the cars. Blaine followed obediently, knowing that to fellow passengers they might look like a happy little family taking a trip into Germany.

"I'm Blaine, by the way. Blaine Anderson."

He pulled the pram in tight to the side of her seat and watched as she started to pull off her fur lined cap. A cascade of bright ginger hair fell down her shoulder and she paused to push it out of her eyes before continuing to remove her jacket. Blaine helped, holding the collar as she pulled her thin arms out.

"Merci."

She waved to the seat across from her, offering Blaine a place with them for the beginning of the trip.

"Emma." She relied, carefully pulling the blankets away from the giggling baby she had cautiously placed down on the seat next to her "and this is Wilhelm."

Blaine nodded, realizing that most likely the father was German but didn't feel comfortable questioning her about it.

"Thank you Emma. For letting me sit with you and Wilhelm." She smiled at him, picking the little boy up and once again holding him close to her chest.

"Pas de problem." She joked.

February 22nd, 1919 - Düsseldorf, Germany

Kurt

Wandering towards the train platform Kurt pulled the collar of his tweed pea coat closer to his neck protecting him from the brisk breeze. He smiled, it was a sunny day (a nice change from the weather they had the last few weeks), and it truly was the perfect day for a wedding.

Kurt had to chuckle to himself at how Lena had decided at the last moment that she wanted to pull up the wedding before anything else came up with the German government. So she pulled some strings and was able to wiggle her way into a beautiful hall for the wedding to be held in.

She had decided that they would have a Jewish wedding, since the Hummel's weren't overly religious, and Noah's family was. So Noah's rabbi would be doing the service, while Kurt was in charge of the party that would follow, which he had to admit might be the talk of the town for a number of weeks.

Glancing at the clock on the wall he smiled, Quinn would be arriving any minute and he couldn't wait. Kurt had been on a high for the last couple of days getting everything ready for when she arrived.

He gripped his cane tighter as a whistle blew, glancing down the track he saw Quinn's train pulling into the station. Kurt tried to contain his excitement as the train slowed to a stop, the last few clouds of steam escaping the engine.

When the train stopped moving Kurt moved along with the groups of friends and family, hoping to find Quinn in a timely manner, so they could arrive on time for the wedding, or otherwise face the bride's wrath.

Kurt adjusted his grip on his cane, his anticipation growing as he heard another whistle, indicating the train on the opposite track was arriving. He ignored the other train and moved further towards the engine when he didn't see Quinn vacate any of the cars at the end.

Weaving his way through the crowds of people he smiled at the scenes of loved ones reuniting, parent's hugging their children, lover's embracing, friends shaking hands and giving chaste kisses and a bushy haired man looking absolutely lost.

Kurt paused, A bushy haired man looking lost? Doing a double take, he looked at the man in detail, and his jaw dropped as he was sure he was gazing upon Blaine. It couldn't be, his mind was playing tricks with him, or he was daydreaming again.

Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, to ensure he wasn't dreaming, he searched the crowd again for the familiar face praying to anyone that would listen that he wasn't going crazy. But no matter how hard he searched he couldn't find the man again in the growing crowd.

Sighing, Kurt turned his efforts back to finding Quinn. He really had to let go of this fantasy he had. Kurt scanned the crowd again for Quinn, but instead caught a  full on glimpse of Blaine standing no more than fifteen feet in front of him, staring at him with wide eyes.

Kurt's breath caught as he looked at Blaine hardly believing it to be true, his suitcase hung loosely in his hand. He wore tan trousers and a black pea coat. His hair was wild and curly, and his eyes were just as Kurt had remembered.

"Kurt!"

He turned his head towards the voice calling his name to see Quinn running towards him with her suitcase in hand. Once she was within arm's reach, she dropped the bag with a loud thump flashing Kurt a quick smile she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

Making Kurt stand there completely flabbergasted and even a little traumatized.

February 22nd, 1919 - Cologne, Germany

Blaine

Blaine had spent the two day train ride in the company of Emma and her adorable little boy Will, the dime store novel entirely forgotten. By the time they had reached Cologne, Emma had deemed Blaine clean enough to hold her son, and the two spent the last two hours of the trip giggling and playing and intense game of peek-a-boo while Emma watched on with a smile.

"So why are ‘ou going to Düsseldorf?" She asked. Blaine paused and let Will clutch at his fingers, watching as the little boy tried to get his tiny hands all the way round.

"My...friend, we met during the war and...I just want to see him again." Emma smiled knowingly, reaching out to smooth down her son's dark hair.

"Oui, many German men ‘an make ‘ou feel that way."

The two got off at Cologne and Emma bid Blaine goodbye, but not before giving him a tight hug. Emma went as far as giving him a chaste kiss to the cheek before reaching out and rubbing the germs both off his cheek and her lips with a freshly pressed handkerchief which she then stuffed into the front pocket of Blaine's dark coat.

"Prenez soin, Blaine." She said softly dragging the pram along behind her. Blaine waved a hand, clutching the address she had given him in hopes of staying in contact.

"Vous aussi."

From Cologne to Düsseldorf was smooth sailing until he had actually arrived and scrambled off the train onto the busy platform and realized that he hadn't really thought this plan all the way through. It wasn't as if he knew where Kurt actually lived. He only that his father owned a garage, that he lived near the river and that his last name was Hummel.

Yep this was going to go smoothly. Blaine who had never been to Düsseldorf and hadn't, before knowing Kurt, even realized that there was a river, was about to embark on some grand adventure through the city with only knowing a handful of German words. Most which were very colourful and very offensive.

He pushed his way through the growing crowd, everyone barking off harsh words in loud German, and looked around for any exit. It was while he was standing there stupidly being jostled about by passengers and cheering family members that he spotted someone familiar.

For a moment, he didn't believe his eyes.

Standing maybe fifteen feet away was Kurt Hummel, dressed tastefully in a thick black pea coat with the collar pulled up to protect himself from the cool February wind and leaning on a sturdy cane. Blaine blinked and then reached up to rub his eyes, thinking that he must have gone crazy. For a second it seemed as if Kurt had seen him, had recognized him. Blaine couldn't believe his good fortune and was about ready to raise his hand and call to the other man, but the words died quickly when he spotted a beautiful young blond woman rush towards the German man, launching herself into his arms and kissing his cheek.

Blaine felt the world come to a complete stop.