A/n: hey beautiful readers, i'm trying something new. this inspired by my favorite books 'The Moon is Down' by John Steinbeck. i'm returning to my pirate roots for this one, hopefully i do the most tragically beautiful pairing justice. Please drop me your opinions... the voices stur.
Disclaimer: I don't own glee and this fic doesn't represent real life; past, present or future.
ENJOY!
"Open this door! The leader commands it!" A startling voice demanded from outside his home, Kurt looked at the spilled soup with remorse.
He opened the door to see a small group of large gentleman he didn't recognise, each dressed in a matching military uniform, "Good day sirs, Please come in and out of the snow" he'd heard stories of the invaders taking the coast but knew better than to react subversively, he spoke warmly as a good host always does, "How can I help you?"
One of the men stepped forward, the hulking figure obstructed the kitchen door way, "Thank you for opening your home voluntarily. This town is now under the control of the leader, volunteer your weapons immediately."
"I… no understand so well… uhh, sit?" Kurt spoke remedially in the foreign language, ushering the gentleman into the lounge and invited them to make themselves comfortable, "Tea?"
"May we speak to the head of the house?" One of the soldiers demanded as Kurt hurried around the kitchen. He returned with warm beverages and scones.
"Please… eh, repeat." He said hoping that the man's manner would help him understand the statement better.
"We want to speak to the Lord of this house." The soldier repeated, his manner was impatient and demanding. Kurt thought about his reply to this question carefully, "NOW!"
"I… sorry. My father… he uhh, dead. I live… self." Kurt made sure to keep his answers short, polite and sweet.
"Do you keep weapons?" the first soldier asked, his uniform had 'Lt Prackle' stitched to the front of his uniform. Kurt's face remained blank as he'd trained it to, "dho-dhu dhu-dhh." The man made gun sounds as he made little guns with his fingers.
"No! I no gun!" Kurt stated defensively, bringing fear into his eyes.
The impatient man, Captain Loft, rose to his feet; "Show us all the closets and wardrobes." Kurt stood in place, his face shrouded in confusion till the man grabbed him violently by the arm and dragged him to the hall closet, he pointed to the closet and shouted "CLOSET!"
Kurt got up of the floor which he'd been thrown on and opened the closet door, switched on the lights, stepped into the confided space and shut the door. "No, we want to Look!" the man pulled Kurt just as violently from the closet, raising hand to strike Kurt. Kurt's eyes opened wide with fear, he didn't fear being struck but rather the actions of the large figure that was headed for the pair.
"I apologise sir." His speaking lapsed into proper form for a moment but he countered it by speaking in his native tongue, "Please, turn back and don't strike." The man didn't strike and the figure retreated into hiding. Took the men around the house; he was showing them that there were no weapons, he skilfully searched certain areas thoroughly and allowed them to neglect others like the first floor bathroom. He lead the gentleman to the door, he politely asked them to leave and watched from the front porch as they left.
Kurt was able to breathe easily when he knew that the men had gone, he returned to cleaning the soup spill in the kitchen. Kurt started his soup over; calmly trying his best not to think about how he'd lied to military officials, he was now a criminal but he knew that he wouldn't have it any other way. He carefully and silently ladled the soup into three identical bowls and placed it on a tray as he did by instinct these days, he counted each step as he walked the thirty steps to the first story bathroom. He lifted the bathtub and secured it in place as he carefully lowered the tray into the rocky unfinished basement, he pulled the bathtub back into place as he climbed deeper down into the make-shift bomb shelter his father built during the first Great War. The built part had better insulation and as a result was warmer. Kurt opened the door into the small room; the walls were bare and grey, the only things adorning the walls were the door he'd entered through and the adjoined bathroom.
"Kurt, you've returned!" The petite girl wrapped her arms around his neck, "I hear we had company, are you alright?"
"Rachel, you need not worry about me." He looked to the larger man, "Nor do you David; I can handle a house call from a couple of uniforms."
"I heard you cry out…" the larger man paused and let out a deep breath, "I can't help but worry about you."
Kurt was warmed by the caring soul that lurked within the hulking figure, he looked into the inviting hazel eyes and melted into the larger boys side beside the sleeping child.
"How is Rebekah today?" he approached the little that lay in the lone bed. He had found her in the snow; cold and alone; he had brought her back here a week ago but her health was yet to recover completely, she still suffered from a terrible cough and her skin was still cold to the touch. Kurt had been studying to be a doctor before the universities were shut down. He had reread all his books but he did not know what form of treatment to take, it frustrated him! Rebekah was only eleven years old and had suffered the misfortune of losing everyone in her life, that was a lot for a child to have to go through and maybe her heart did not want her to get better in an effort to spare her a life of solitude. It hurt him to think that the world had turned on a child, his best friend's husband had turned on her and he was expected to turn on the love he'd found; all in the name of The Leader? He cast an eye toward his broken friend and his chest tightened… Rachel was in so much pain, it hurt him to watch her, Sarah and David living like this but survival was primary…