CHAPTER ONE
A young man sat in a window sill, looking out at the cloudy noon sky, ignoring the factory rumbling beneath him on the floor below. He had just turned 18 the week before, but he didn't feel any different now than he had then. He had brown hair that he tried to keep tidy and out of his glase colored eyes.
He sighed, stood and, grabbing a box, headed out of the attic. As his feet slipped down the creaky, wooden stairs, he could hear screaming outside. By now he had grown use to it. Someone was taken every day and it wasn't long before his family, per se, was taken as well. All he could do was pray that he could live another day.
As he entered the shop, his step-brother gave him a smile. His brown hair hung in his face, in a bad need of a cut, and over brown eyes. "When do you think that will be us?" he asked, taking the box from the young man. The young man didn't answer. "Kurt?" The brother set the box down on the counter. "Kurt, what's going through your head?"
The young man stared out of the store shop window, where two uniformed men were, moving steadily toward the store. His brother's eyes followed his gaze and then went back to the one called Kurt.
"Just act calm. They're not here for you," the brother assured weakly. "How could they know?" The store's bell rang as the uniformed men entered through the door. "How can I help you?" Kurt sunk back, behind the counter, and slightly behind his brother.
The uniformed man to the left was that of an Ortsgruppenleiter, or local group leader, of the party. And Kurt couldn't help but note the Ehrenwaffe, or pistol that was slightly concealed under his jacket. The man also has a rucksack for outdoor activities. The one on the right was of a member of the Reichsarbeitsdienst, or the labor corps. They both sent chills through Kurt.
"Can I help you?" the brother repeated as the uniforms looked over the store. The Ortsgruppenleiter stepped up to the counter, his arm resting on the wooden top.
"We need more arms," he sighed.
"Kurt, would you please take this gentleman to the back?"
Kurt looked up at his brother, his heart halting. He nodded a buzzing in his ears. He led the uniformed man into the back room and helped him find the ammo and arms. Without much talk, he paid Kurt and left him in the back room to try and calm his unstable heart.
"Kurt?" his brother asked, glancing into the room. "You OK?" He stepped into the room.
"Finn, I can't live like this anymore," Kurt muttered, falling back into a corner. "I'd rather be in one of those camps than-"
"You don't mean that Kurt!"
"Yes I do, Finn!" Kurt shouted. He jumped at how loud his voice was and lowered it. "Those Nazi's are going to be the death of me."
"Not to worsen your day, but they already were going to be the death of you," Finn said quietly.
"But this fear is worse than physical pain. It goes mental…" They were both silent for a moment. "How long have Dad and Carole been gone?"
"About a month," Finn answered. Kurt sunk to the floor and Finn sat beside him. "They'll come back."
Kurt snorted out his laughter sarcastically and nodded his head. "Yes, because our parents could survive one of those camps for a month, on their own, without us to help them."
"Maybe they can." Finn gave a shrug. He wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulders and gave them a squeeze. Kurt smiled. "And maybe we should go out tonight."
"Go out?" Kurt asked, horrified. "Curfew's at nine o'clock. We'll be arrested."
"If we get caught," Finn beamed evilly. "I know my way around this city at night. Don't worry." Finn stood. "Now, come on. There are still more boxes in the attic."
"It's clear," Finn whispered, running across the street. Kurt raced after Finn, so he wouldn't get lost. Night made everything different, and Kurt wasn't about to get lost and found by someone other than his brother. He slipped on the ice covered ground, but seized his balance quickly.
"Where are we going?" Kurt whispered, his breath floating deadly in the winter sky.
"Somewhere warm, and fun," Finn replied with a smile Kurt couldn't place. It worried him slightly and he wondered why he had agreed to this in the first place.
Finn led him down several more streets, narrowly avoiding Nazis. Finn stepped up to a building and pulled Kurt inside. There was a chatter that filled the small, warm room. A fire blazed in the west side of the room, and there were tables, with people around them. Kurt looked at Finn, who was now at the counter to a bar, flirting with a girl that was no doubt Jewish from the star on her chest. She had brown hair and brown eyes. Kurt made his way over to Finn.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"A bar," Finn replied. "Rachel, this is Kurt, my brother." He motioned to Kurt, and then to the girl. Kurt nodded. His brother shouldn't even be talking to her. He could be taken to a camp just for being friends with a Jew. "Get him a shot, he'll like that."
"I'm not getting drunk, Finn," Kurt objected. "And neither are you. I need a way to get back home."
"Kurt, live a little. No German scum is going to find us here."
"I'm going home." Kurt turned to the door, and braced himself for the cold.
"Kurt!" Finn called with a laugh. "You're going to get lost!"
Kurt ignored him and shoved out into the cold night air. Wind blew into his face, biting his cheeks and turning his nose red. He almost considered turning back, but when that thought came to him, he was already too far away to know where he was. He stopped and looked around, pulling his jacket closer around him.
"Ok," he whispered. "Kurt, you live…" he trailed off. "You're lost." Kurt gave a sigh and went to the nearest building, sitting in the doorway, to get out of the wind. He held his knees to his chest, trying to keep as warm as he possibly could. Eventually, he couldn't hold back his chattering teeth. He let out a breath, wanting to cry.
"Hey!" a distant voice said. Kurt looked up and saw a figure coming toward him. He stood, wanting to run, but was too cold to move away from his wind blocking safety. "What are you doing out? It's past your curfew!" By now, a person stood in front of Kurt. He was slightly shorter than Kurt, with deep hazel eyes that were almost as cold as it was outside. He wore a Nazi uniform, and a hat covered his hair. He looked over Kurt and his regard relaxed. "You look like you're about to freeze. What are you doing out here?"
"I-I…I got lost," Kurt admitted with rattling teeth. He held his arms around his chest in hope of more warmth.
"Where do you live?"
Kurt gazed at him uncertainly. He'd never known a German Nazi to be this…virtually…kind, in a way. But Kurt didn't want to be out in the cold anymore, so he hesitantly answered. "I live in the gunsmith shop."
The young Nazi nodded and took Kurt's arm, pulling Kurt down the street and back into the bitter wind. After a few twists and turns, Kurt recognized where they were. They reached his shop and the Nazi released him, who by now was holding his hand.
"Don't expect help from anyone else," he whispered to Kurt. "And don't be caught out in this weather. You'll catch pneumonia."
"Thank you," Kurt muttered. The man turned to leave, but turned back, shoving Kurt up against the door, with surprising strength.
"I said to stay inside!" the Nazi ordered, as more soldiers passed.
"You need any help?" one called.
"No, I got this one, Jews," the one pinning Kurt laughed. Once the others were gone, Kurt was freed. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, but if you're drafted, you play the roles."
Kurt looked over him, confused. Why was this one, out of so many, helping him? Kurt's hand took the frozen door knob behind his back and he opened the door. He stepped into the shop, not moving his eyes from the man's gaze. Kurt began closing the door.
"What's your name?"
Kurt stopped and looked around the door. "What?"
"What's your name?" the young soldier repeated.
"Finn," Kurt lied nervously tapping his fingers on the door.
"So you're the troublemaker in the bars that I have to clean up after?" The Nazi gave a slight teasing smile. Kurt opened his mouth, but couldn't speak due to the fact that he was dumbfounded. "How about you tell me your real name?"
"What's yours?" Kurt asked, flipping the question.
"Blaine Anderson, at your service," he smiled, pulling his hat from his head, revealing black, curly hair. Kurt felt his heart stop momentarily. "And yours?"
"K-Kurt Hummel," Kurt answered dimly.
"Well, Kurt Hummel, I bid you a good night. Try not to get lost anymore," Blaine joshed, sliding his hat back on and turning. He left and Kurt closed the door, giving a heavy sigh.
"Kurt! Wake up!" a voice yelled.
Kurt opened his eyes and looked around. He sat up and shivered. His fire had gone out during the night. He got dressed and made himself presentable, before heading out into the front of the store. Business was a little quicker today, and by eleven o'clock, both brothers wanted to sit and never move again.
"So, how did you get home last night?" Finn asked, sitting in a chair beside Kurt's.
"I don't truly remember," Kurt replied, thinking back on last night. "I left and sat in the doorway to a home when I lost my way… I don't remember anything else."
Just then the doorbell rang, and both of them looked up. A young man entered, wearing a Nazi uniform, with hazel eyes, and curly black hair. Kurt couldn't place it, but this man didn't frighten him like the others did. He seemed to have a gentler air about him.
"I know this is a long shot, but I was wondering if you carried blank paper, ink, a pen, and possibly a map of France," he said, coming up to the counter. His eyes rested on Kurt, who wore a questioning look. It wasn't from the request of obscure objects in a gun shop, but because of the voice of the young Nazi.
"Actually, I believe we do," Finn answered, standing. "Kurt, would you fetch…I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"I'm Lieutenant General Anderson," he replied, flashing white teeth in Kurt's direction.
"Kurt, would you help Lieutenant General Anderson," Finn said, "while I find a map?"
Kurt gave a nod and led Nazi Anderson into the back room. Kurt went to a cabinet and opened the doors without a word. He pulled down some paper that was rough in his hands. He then grabbed a pen, but stopped with a puff of air. The ink was on the top shelf and only Finn could reach that. He stood on his tippy-toes and stretched his arm out as far as he could, but his fingertips only hit the ink and made it move further back on the shelf. Kurt looked around for something to stand on, and sighed, put out.
"Do you want some help?" Anderson offered gently. "I'm sure if we work together then we'll be able to reach it."
Kurt turned back to look at the man. "How old are you?"
"Almost 18, why?"
Kurt shrugged, setting the items on his hands on the floor, and then proceeded to jump for the bottle of ink. He was younger than Kurt and was already that high of a rank in the military?
"Are you sure you don't want any help?" The Nazi's tone was more or less, mocking.
"No," Kurt answered with a constrained breath. He paused, grumbled something under his breath, and then resumed jumping. Anderson laughed and Kurt turned. "What?"
"Nothing, it's just you. Are you sure you don't want any-"
"I can do it," Kurt assured, mentally calculating how high he'd have to jump for the ink. Meanwhile, Lieutenant General Anderson had stepped to the side of the room and grabbed a chair that was resting against the wall. He placed it beside Kurt, whose face was red with determination. Anderson put a fist to his lips and cleared his throat. Kurt turned, his eyes resting on the chair. At this, his face grew inflamed with humiliation. "Than-thank you."
Kurt took the chair and moved it closer to the cabinet, standing on it. He took the cool glass bottle in his hands and carefully lowered himself back to the floor. Bending over, he scooped up the things from the ground and held them out to Anderson.
"You haven't mentioned anything," Anderson said.
"What do you mean?" Kurt moved back into the main part of the shop and stopped at the sight of the room being empty. "FINN!"
"I'm still searching!" Finn called back in a muffled tone. He must have been up in the attic.
"I mean, aren't you the one I helped bring home last night?"
"Last night?" Kurt asked. "No." He shook his head. "I was home the whole night."
"I'm sure you were, Finn." Anderson wore a smirk. "Do I have my man to take to a camp now? Many of my men would enjoy seeing him out of the bars and off the streets, and where an eye can be kept on him…where a whip could be used on him."
This is where Kurt spotted his cruelty, spite, and malice. He was no better than the rest, and now that Kurt remembered the reason to why this Nazi was so familiar, he wanted the Nazi from his shop more than ever.
"Blaine, I want you out," Kurt said strongly.
"So it was you!" Nazi wore a smile of delight. "I've been wondering when I would run into you again. Amazing how Hitler's little errands could bring back together a knight and a damsel in distress. Of course, you were the knight," Blaine added the last sentence quickly. Kurt just stared at him, mouth slightly open. This is when Finn decided to show up.
"Here's the map…" Finn gave a heavy sigh, holding out the folded paper. Blaine took it, with a nod of thanks. "Kurt, we've got to go through the rest of those boxes."
"Right," Kurt nodded, heading for the stairs.
"Thank you, Mr. Hummel," Blaine called after Kurt. Kurt paused on the stairs, his hand on the rail. He looked down at the solider that stood so proudly below. "I enjoyed talking to you." Kurt ignored him and continued up the stairs.
"He's a little touchy around you guys," Finn explained as Blaine paid. "You took our parents, but I don't see why you would care."
"Who were your parents?"
"Carole and Burt Hummel," Finn answered. He looked over Blaine's face and a smile covered his own lips. "You know them. You've seen them. Where?"
"I'm sorry," Blaine said, lowering his head. "The last I heard, they were sent to the gas chambers with the other Jews."
"But, why?" Finn's voice cracked. "We're not Jews."
"They tried to help some of the Jews escape." Finn looked down, unsure of what to feel. "They were successful, though. A great deal of them got out and are now safely in America." Finn's heart lightened slightly at this.
"Maybe Kurt and I should pack up and leave now, as well. Things are getting difficult."
"Why would you two have to worry?" Blaine inquired, confused. "As long as you keep your noses clean, you should be fine. Plus this shop will help keep you alive, as well. We need supplies and you have it."
"It's not me though. It's Kurt," Finn said before he could stop himself.
"And what's wrong with Kurt?" Blaine wore a suspicious look about his face.
"Look, I think you need to leave. I've said too much and you're part of the enemy. Please get out of my shop."
Blaine nodded, heading to the door. "Thank you for your time."
"Ahh…thank you, Anderson," Hitler said, taking the things that Blaine held out to him, the things from the shop. "You said you had something to tell me?" His hands rested on the top of his desk and he looked up at Blaine curiously.
"Y-yes sir," Blaine answered, his hands growing sweaty. "The gun smiths are…how do I put this? Irregular characters."
"What do you mean?" Blaine now had Hitler's full attention.
"I mean, that they're hiding something. I'm not entirely sure what it is, but it's definitely something to look into."
"Well, until they refuse to supply me with what I need, then we'll let them keep their secrets, is that understood?"
"Yes, sir," Blaine answered, saluting, and heading to the door.
"Anderson?"
Blaine turned back to face the man of war.
"Thank you for keeping your eyes and ears open. Continue to do so."
"Absolutely, sir."
Blaine quickly left the room, closing the dense door behind him. What had he done? His job. That would justify it, he had done his job….but now the two owners of the shop would have it out for them. If they got hurt, it was all on Blaine's shoulders. This bothered him slightly and he loosened his shirt collar with his index and middle fingers. Why did he constantly hurt the people around him?
It wasn't true. Finn was lying.
The one person Kurt used to pour out his heart to had died. There were just too many conflicting feelings going at him all at once. Shock. To know that his father was gone and not coming back. Pain. It was as if his stomach was on fire with uncontrollable flames that were consuming his very essence of life gasping for air. Numb, from sadness and depression. Loss. Kurt would never have them near or see their smiles ever again. And finally, a slight acceptance. He knew that the day would come and he would cross over to the other side and be with them. But at the moment, Kurt was stuck on the hollow, sick to your stomach part of the process.
He sat on his bed, staring at the ground, but his mind was blank. There was nothing left, now. What about Finn's promise? He had promised that their parents were alive, but where were they now? Dead. That's where they were.
The next few days, Kurt and Finn both spent silent and just going through the motions. Neither of them had it in them to speak about what had happened, or what would happen to them. Later, at night, about a week later, Fin spoke during dinner.
"Kurt, we're getting out of here," he announced.
Kurt looked up from his uneaten food, with a shocked expression. "What?"
"We're heading to America."
"Why?"
"Because I have a feeling that this is only going to get worse and we have to get out when we can," Finn explained. He stood, taking his dishes to the sink, turning on the water.
"What about the shop? Rachel?" Finn stopped, but kept his back to Kurt. "You like her, Finn."
"Right now, keeping you safe is all I'm focused on. If they find out about you, then you'll be taken to a camp," Finn said, stating information Kurt already mostly knew. "They already know about Rachel, and there's not much I can do to help her, but you….I need to focus on you. You'll be on a ship by Tuesday, and I don't want a fight about it. I'll stay here, close down the shop and then maybe then I'll worry about Rachel. Besides, Dad wouldn't want his only son dead."
"And what about Carole?" Kurt asked. "She wouldn't want you dead either."
"Kurt, your secret will get you killed. I'm not taking that chance."
"I don't see why people care so much that I'm homosexual," Kurt grumbled, irritated slightly. His hand rested against his cheek. "It's like just because of that, I'm different than everyone." Finn stepped over and rested a hand on Kurt's shoulder, giving it a squeeze.
"Don't worry, America is said to have streets paved with gold. You can be yourself there."
"That's a bunch of crap, Finn," Kurt argued. "None of that's true."
"You don't know that. You've never been there," Finn smiled.
"Yes well neither have you!" Kurt hissed.
"Then we'll both keep an open mind, won't we?" Finn smirked.
"I can't go! I need to stay here and run the shop!"
"No, you just want to stay so you can see that Nazi boy again."
Kurt wore a shocked look, that was slightly offended. He then quickly changed his facial expression. "Yes, well, I don't have any plans to see him again so it shouldn't be a problem."
"Don't hide that from me Kurt," Finn laughed. "I've lived with you for the last year, I think I know when you're in love."
"Love!" Kurt snorted, "Please Finn. Where did you get that idea?"
"From my head. Believe it or not, I do have a brain, even though Einstein would argue."
"I'd like to argue that," Kurt grumbled, folding his arms over his chest. "Finn have you ever thought about what you're saying, while you're saying it?"
"No," he replied. "I probably should though, right?"
"It'd be a good idea," Kurt nodded.
Against Kurt's will, he was forced to pack. Finn made sure to enforce that this place was no longer safe for Kurt. Soon came the day that Kurt was going to leave. He was loading his things into a Chevy, with Finn's help. One of Finn's friends, a man by the name of Mike Chang, was taking Kurt to the bay to where a ship was waiting. It might be a few days travel, though, and sleeping in a car was not something Kurt looked froward to.
As the last bag was loaded into the car, Kurt turned back to his brother, and was seized into a hug. Kurt was released and smiled weakly at Finn. "When will you be coming?"
"When I can close up the shop," Finn answered.
"So next week?" Kurt was hopeful.
"Possibly." Finn wore a smile. "I promise I'll come out as soon as I can."
"You two going somewhere?" a voice asked. Both of the brothers looked up, and Kurt bit his lip. "I was kind of hoping to get some more things before the store closed."
"Absolutely, Sir, Anderson. I'd be glad to help," Finn replied.
"And what about Mr. Hummel?"
"He's about to go see one of our relatives," Finn explained. "If you'd come with me, I'll get you what you want." Finn started to the store.
"I'd personally like it if Mr. Hummel would kindly help me before he left," Blaine wore a slight smile. Finn and Kurt traded looks. "Unless you're in a hurry, but I assume that family would understand."
Without much of a choice, Kurt headed back into the gun shop, Blaine following with Finn close behind. "What is it that you need?" Kurt questioned.
"Apparently more ink and paper," Blaine answered. "Hitler goes through it quickly." Kurt went into the back room, Blaine again following him. "Thank you...might I ask where you're going?"
"Like my brother said, I'm visiting some family," Kurt replied, handing Blaine the paper. He then got the chair and stood on it to reach the top shelf.
"And he's not going with you?"
"No, someone has to run the shop. Why do you care?"
"I'm the eyes and ears for the army, I just ask the questions."
"Then why did you need my help?" Kurt asked slowly, getting down from the chair. He turned to face Blaine, who was standing a little closer than Kurt expected. Kurt stepped back, and held out the bottle of ink.
"Because I like talking to you," Blaine shrugged, taking the bottle. "And you're a really bad liar, Kurt. I like that you're truthful."
"Of course you do," Kurt muttered.
"I didn't mean it like that. So where are you really going?"
"I'm not about to tell you," Kurt replied, quickly adding: "even if I did lie."
Blaine wore an easy, natural grin that was purely simple, and Kurt couldn't help but feel like the smile was just for him. "You're very...interesting Kurt."
"I'm glad I could create something in your life wroth while." Kurt moved past Blaine and to the door.
"But you have," Blaine called after him. Kurt turned back. "You have so many secrets that I just want to understand."
Kurt felt slightly uncomfortable at this. What did Blaine know, and what would he tell Hitler? "Wh-why would you say that?"
Blaine shrugged. "Because it's the truth. Coming to this shop on errands is something that I look forward to because...that's when I get to see you."
Kurt stared, shocked. He wasn't sure what to say to this. This Nazi had to be crazy. "Do they brain wash you when you enter the military?" Kurt finally asked. "Do you understand what you just said?"
"I know what I said," Blaine nodded. "And I'm glad I was able to tell you before you left for America."
""How did you know I was going to America?" Kurt asked suspiciously.
"I didn't, but I now I do." Kurt shrunk back at this. He would get in trouble for sure. Blaine seemed to understand. "Don't worry, I won't tell him. Your secret is safe with me. You might want to hurry though. The ports aren't going to be open for very much longer."
"How can I trust you?" Kurt asked cautiously.
"You'll just have to," Blaine answered softly. "If you'd like, I can get you an escort to keep you safe as you travel."
"And why would you do that?"
"Because, I'm here to try to show that not all Nazis are ruthless like everyone believes."
"Is that so?" Because the last I heard, you were part of the people that helped kill my family!" Kurt yelled, finally losing his calmness, while swinging his arms around like a bird that couldn't seem to fly. "Get out!"
"Kurt, quiet," Blaine hushed. "You'll get in trouble, please don't yell."
"Why do you care?!" Kurt pressed.
"I'd be glad to help you get to where you're going, but I need you to stop yelling, or some one's going to hear you."
"You'd help my brother get to America?" Finn asked from behind Kurt. Kurt jumped and turned to face Finn. "Why?"
"You helped me, right? I'd like to return the favor."
"I'm sure you would," Kurt grumbled, folding his arms.
"And we'd appreciate it," Finn shot harshly at Kurt.
Kurt gave Finn a killer look and stormed from the back room, yelling: "I GIVE UP! NOTHING I SAY MATTERS ANYMORE!"
"Does he get like this a lot?" Blaine asked.
"You caught him on one of his better days, actually," Finn admitted with a slight smile. "I want you to know that if anything happens to him, like what happened to my parents, I will find you and use your own piano strings to hang you, do I make myself clear?"
Blaine wore a blank look, but slowly nodded. He moved out of the back room and handed Finn some money. As he stepped outside, he could see Kurt in the car, his head in his hand with a troubled expression. Blaine sighed. What had he gotten himself into? He was in charge and was going to leave. He'd get in so much trouble for this. What would he tell his war leader? Hitler would have Blaine's head long before Finn would, and defiantly if he knew the reason that Blaine was so eager to go with Kurt. But that was Blaine's secret and he wasn't about to let it go.
"Just for a fair warning," Finn said, standing beside Blaine, " don't say anything that's...well, just don't talk to Kurt. You'll just make him mad. And he's not a secret telling type, so don't pry. And, thank you. You're different than the rest, and I know that you'll keep my brother safe."
"I promise that not a soul will touch him," Blaine nodded.
Finn sighed and headed back to the shop, but stopped. "And make sure he knows that I love him. He's my only brother and I'm not keen on losing him."
"I'll be sure to tell him," Blaine nodded, moving around to the car. Finn had already told his friend that Kurt had a driver and that he could go home. His friend didn't have a problem with that, one because it was freezing and two, because it was bound to start snowing soon. Blaine stepped into the driver's seat and rested his items in the back seat. He started the car, and put it in gear. "You're brother said he loved you."
Kurt was silent, staring out at the shop he had grown up in, the shop where his biological mother had died and where he had been taught to shoot a gun. Where his dad would sing him to sleep, loudly and very off key. Where he had met Finn and they had become friends after his crush on Finn had worn away. This shop was where Carole and Burt had gotten married, making Finn and Kurt brothers. It had so many memories and Kurt wasn't sure he would ever see it again.
"I just have to make a quick stop to drop off these things and then we'll start heading for the bay. Is that alright?" Blaine asked gently as he pulled away, leaving Kurt's home in the background. Kurt turned in his chair, not answering, but trying to see the last of his childhood that was slipping away. Blaine sighed, pulling his hat from his head. This was going to be a long and quiet ride.