Blaine was running.

He was running for cover, crouching and running so as to avoid any ricocheted bullets. It was the only way, really. His only hope at the moment was that all of the shots flying everywhere would miss him.

But then he saw it. He saw Charlie, one of his fellow soldiers. He was facing away from Blaine, watching something a ways away.

His hands were shaking, the gun in them vibrating along with them.

Blaine knew what was happening before it fully processed in his mind. He knew that, somewhere in the distance in front of Charlie, an opposing soldier, an enemy, was taking aim at him.

Blaine knew Charlie. He was one of the few guys that he actually talked to.

He knew that Charlie had a wife. That he had three kids and a house in Maryland.

Charlie had something to go back to. He had a family who was waiting for him, a family who needed him.

So Blaine ran. He ran towards Charlie, completely forgetting about all the other shots he knew were being taken at him.

As he neared the man, he saw the soldier squatted in the grass, his gun poised and his finger hovering over the trigger.

Almost in slow motion, the finger ever so slightly started to press down.

Blaine launched himself at Charlie, ignoring the shouts and hollers that pierced out around him as he tackled Charlie to the ground.

"Dammit, Anderson," Charlie said, his eyes darting everywhere, searching for a place to hide. "I could have fucking handled that, man."

But Blaine didn't hear a word he said. He was on the ground, his screams so faint that he wasn't even sure anyone heard him.

His shoulder was throbbing, his vision fading in and out with each flare of pain.

"Fuck," Charlie said once he looked down at where Blaine was still on the ground. "Anderson, you are a fucking idiot."

Blaine, if he could have responded, would have said something about how he couldn't just stand there and watch Charlie get shot. But he couldn't talk, let alone form a coherent sentence.

Charlie glanced around again before quickly standing up, effortless scooping Blaine up in his arms and charging back towards the medic's base.

"Man down!" He hollered at their fellow soldiers as he ran. "Man down!"

Blaine groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head a little as it felt like his arm was about to fall off.

"Dammit, Anderson," Charlie groaned as Blaine continued to black in and out. "Just stay with me a little longer, okay?"

Blaine couldn't verbalize his agreement, but he did as Charlie asked.

And as he set Blaine down onto a cot in the medic's tent, there was only one thought running through his head.

I was shot.

Blaine shot up, his breathing heavy and his shoulder throbbing.

It took him a moment to remember where he was – Cooper's living room couch that Vanessa had made up for him. She had promised to clean out the guest room for Blaine tomorrow, and Blaine was more than willing to sleep on the couch for a night.

He should have expected to have a dream about that, really. Being shot isn't something that happens and then leaves a person unaffected.

He glanced over at the iPhone his mother had given him as a welcome home present, knowing that he would need one. It was 12:57, way too early for Blaine to do anything besides lay there.

Messing around with his phone for a bit, he stared at the four contacts currently in his address book.

His mom, Cooper, Vanessa, and Kurt.

Blaine had no idea what he was going to do about Kurt. For all he knew, the boy didn't want to see him again.

But Blaine knew that wasn't the truth. He'd practically told Blaine to call him, telling him that he was welcome back at any time.

He felt bad for Kurt. He'd lost both of his parents not even a year ago, and now he was left alone in his house.

Blaine couldn't even imagine.

He thought back to his brief conversation with Finn – how worried he had been about Kurt, how anxious he was about leaving.

That was a good thing, Blaine thought. As long as he kept Kurt in his mind, he had something worth coming back for.

Deciding on a whim, Blaine opened his phone again and quickly selected Kurt's contact, shooting him a quick message asking if it was the right phone number.

Blaine?

That was all the message said. He sent a 'yes' in return, staring at his phone for a moment as he waited for Kurt to respond.

Why are you still awake?

Blaine ignored his question, quickly asking his own.

You don't think this is weird, right? Talking to a stranger?

No. If Finn asked you to do this, then I can't really bring myself stop it.

It continued on like that for a few more minutes before Kurt said he was going to bed.

Blaine shut his phone off and closed his eyes, once again trying to will his body to go to sleep. He needed to sleep, but he couldn't. His shoulder was throbbing and his mind was racing with his dream.

Charlie was still oversees. He wasn't due for discharge for another year.

Blaine hoped to God that he made it back.

He felt that he needed to get up and do something, but his body was too physically exhausted to even so much as move.

Perusing the App store, he bought a few free apps off of Cooper's account – whose password was coopcoopdodoop – and entertained himself with those for a few hours.

When his brain finally shut off, he gently placed his phone on the ground and hugged his pillow with his good hand, feeling his eyes droop shut in what he hoped would be a peaceful sleep.

The next morning, Blaine woke up to a small commotion.

"Don't wake him up," a voice hissed. "He probably hasn't slept in years."

"Shut up," another voice said. "You're being louder telling me not to wake him up then I was."

Blaine stirred. He recognized those voices – voices he hadn't heard since a week before he boarded the plane.

"David, shut up," the first voice said again. "Look, he's moving. You woke him up, you idiot."

Blaine groaned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with his good hand, slowly hoisting himself up so that he was in the sitting position.

When the two figures in the couch across from him came into focus, Blaine felt a huge smile breaking out onto his face.

"Wes," he breathed. "David."

The two boys launched themselves next to Blaine, being careful not to jostle his shoulder.

"Anderson," Wes said, narrowing his eyes at him. "Why the actual fuck did you not come home for three years?"

Blaine sighed and shrugged, wincing as a small amount of pain shot up his shoulder.

"Don't do that, man," David told him. "God, Blaine, look at you. You're…different."

"What happened to dapper, pristine Blaine? Warbler Blaine?" Wes added, his eyes worried and a small crease in his forehead.

"He's still in here somewhere," Blaine answered. "It's just a matter of finding him again. I'm not sure he'll be around for a while."

Wes took in his appearance, grinning as he saw Blaine's short hair. "Ah, that's why you look so off," he said. "Your long, luscious helmet of gel hair is no longer present."

"Oh, that'll be the first thing I bring back," Blaine said, a small smile on his lips. "I miss my hair."

The three fell silent, Blaine staring down at his hands as he practically felt Wes and David's worried eyes on him.

"Are you okay?" David asked after a moment. "No PTSD or anything?"

Blaine shook his head. "No," he said. "Just a few dreams here and there about…" Blaine trailed off and tapped his shoulder gently, showing his two friends what he was talking about.

"What was it like?" Wes asked. "Is it as bad as it's said to be?"

"It's the worst thing you could ever experience," Blaine whispered hesitantly, but as soon as it was out of his mouth he realized that he needed to talk about it to someone. "It just pierces through you, and the only thought coursing through your head is 'I'm dying.'"

"Even if –"

"Even if you actually aren't," Blaine finished for David. "Because you might as well be. Hell, depending on how much pain you can handle, you might even rather die than go through that."

And again they fell silent, Blaine silently hoping that they wouldn't ask him any more questions about that.

"Cooper and Vanessa left for work a few hours ago," Wes said. "And your mom called me and said that she scheduled you a doctor's appointment today for you arm."

Blaine nodded, checking the time on his watch and noting that it was almost noon.

"Since you can't really drive yet," David said. "Wes agreed to drive you." He glanced at his own watch before standing up. "I've actually got to get to work though," he said. "I just wanted to come and see how you were doing."

Blaine smiled at him and nodded, giving him a soft "Thank you" as he left.

"Alright, Blainers," Wes said, standing up and dusting off his pants. "Let's get you dressed and over to the doctor's, shall we?"

Blaine hated the doctor's. He'd grown so used to medics, who were acclimated with war injuries and didn't even bat an eye at gunshot wounds and dismembered limbs.

But suburban doctor's, especially in a small town in Ohio, didn't get many cases like that.

"Well, Mr. Anderson," Dr. Rinn said as she came back into the room, holding a clipboard. "Your shoulder is not infected. However, it won't be as functional as before, but maybe with a little therapy we could make it a little better…"

Blaine nodded, watching as her eyes scanned him with sympathy.

"Blaine," she said, using his first name this time. She sat down across from him, watching his expression carefully. "I can't help but notice…but you aren't quite acting like what I would expect a man who had just been shot to act like."

Blaine shrugged with his one shoulder – something he'd mastered within the last hour. "I dunno," he said. "I mean, yeah it still scares the shit out of me, but…"

She nodded. "Are you in a relationship?" She asked, and Blaine, in that moment, realized that she was checking him for PTSD, even though the medics had already done a thorough examination for any signs. But he humored her, knowing that it was her job.

"No," he said, not going into details. She didn't need to know that he was gay, or that there were only a small handful of gay boys in Ohio.

"What is your relationship like with your family?"

"I get along well with my brother and mother," he said quickly, hoping she wouldn't catch the fact that he hadn't mentioned his father.

"And your father?"

Damn.

"We don't necessarily get along," Blaine explained tentatively.

She nodded and wrote something down. "Well, Mr. Anderson," she said. "You're certainly stable and don't seem to have any signs of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder."

Blaine nodded, even though he already knew that.

She did a few more quick exams before quickly writing him a prescription for some pain medication.

He quickly exited the building, glad to see that Wes was already outside waiting for him.

"How'd it go?" He asked.

"She didn't tell me anything I didn't already know."

Wes nodded as they drove out of the parking lot. "Cooper told me that you're kind of watching out for someone," he said tentatively as they drove back to Cooper's house.

Blaine nodded his head. "Another soldier came up to me at the airport and asked me to look after his brother," Blaine explained slowly. "Their parents died not even a year ago. He has no one."

Wes nodded, casting Blaine a sideways glance before smirking. "Cooper also tells me that he's gay?"

Blaine laughed, suddenly feeling like he was in high school again, where Wes and David had attempted to set him up with any possibly gay man ever to exist.

"Yes, Wes," Blaine laughed. "He's gay."

"Think anything will happen there?"

Blaine did his one shouldered shrug, watching his fingers toy together as he felt a small blush creep onto his cheeks.

"Blaine!" Wes gasped. "You're blushing!"

"Am not," Blaine mumbled.

"You are!" Wes let out a giggle – yes, a giggle – letting go of the steering wheel for a moment to clap his hands together excitedly. "He's cute, isn't he? Blaine, you should totally go for it!"

"I just got home from war, Wes," Blaine laughed, rolling his eyes. "I barely think I'm ready for a relationship. And I've only seen him once."

"Sometimes that's all it takes, Blaine," he said. "Ever heard of love at first sight?"

Blaine scoffed and shook his head. "Fairy tales don't exist for people like me in Ohio," he said softly.

"Did you ever think," Wes started, "that it's only because you don't believe anything like that could happen to you?"

Blaine remained silent, staring out of the dashboard, willing the car to just arrive at the house already.

"I know you, Blaine," Wes whispered. "And I know you want a happy ending."

"Well so far," Blaine said, his voice soft and forlorn. "My life isn't really going in that direction, is it?"

Wes sighed, but didn't respond for a few moments. "Well you're home now," he replied softly. "So maybe now's your chance to start."