Title: Prisoners

Started: 9/10/11 3:23 a.m.

Finished: 9/10/11 5:05 a.m.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or its respective characters.

Preface: A devastating second Civil War is plaguing an America we've never seen. A frightening and powerful dictator has demanded the execution of anyone different from The Superiors, or the 'noble' race. Though a resistance is steadily rising against him, the prisoners residing in so-called Execution Camps can only sit helplessly within their chain-linked walls, praying for their freedom.

March 25th – My first day in this hell. At first I attempted to make friends, because God knows in a place like this the thing you hunger for most is a companion. But the first person I spoke to warned me to never make friends here. Never. If it helps, don't speak to anyone. It keeps you from getting too attached to someone who likely won't be here the next day. I thought of this as a bit harsh. Until the guards rounded everyone up in the square, and picked out several of the prisoners, dragging them all in different directions. Each direction was apparently a different death house. Block A Starvation. Block B Decapitation. Block C…there are fifteen different death houses in all. My mind is reeling at how many fiendish ways they have come up with to wipe us out.

April 5th – Sometimes I find myself wishing that they would just kill us the moment they take us to these horrible places. Spare us the torturous speculation of whether or not we will be chosen today. Of which direction they will take us when they do choose us. Of what awaits us when we get there. But they can't allow us that mercy; where's the fun in it for them? I spoke again to that young man from the first day. He told me that there was another reason I should refrain from making any friends here: if the guards catch you protesting or appearing too upset about someone else being chosen, they'll shoot you on the spot. I almost faked my way to anger the second day, but then two things stop me. The fact that I would be disrespecting someone in their last moments, and that somewhere out there, my little sister is safe in hiding, waiting for me to come home. I thank God every day that I am not chosen, for each day is another chance that I could live to see her again. I know it's naïve, but I'm holding onto the hope that His evil hegemony will come to an end before I am killed in this hellhole.

July 14th – New batch of prisoners today. Many of them looked young and vulnerable. But the moment one of them approached me to talk I gave him the same warning I had received. Though I tried to be more gentle about it. Perhaps I was too gentle; the same young man came to me again not an hour later, smiling about the discovery that he and I would be bunkmates. I warned him, again, that it was a bad idea to make friends. When it was time for lights-out, he started speaking to me again from his place at the top bunk, about the strangest and yet most fascinating things. He's still talking, currently about someone named Finn. I should tell him to shut up, but his voice is too lovely and rare a sound in this place to be silenced.

October 21st – I've made the foolish mistake of becoming his friend. I've told him of my sister and my home and my old school, just in the hope that he would accept my friendship. I've made the even more foolish mistake of learning his name. Kurt. Kurt Hummel.

March 1st – I've fallen in love with him. I've fallen in love with Kurt.

Blaine idly stroked his fingers up and down Kurt's arm, perspiration giving his porcelain skin an exquisite shine, which Blaine could appreciate now that he wasn't being driven mad with desire.

"It's moments like this," Kurt said quietly, his own hand travelling across Blaine's chest as they lay together in the bottom bunk. The air was still thick with the scent of what they had just done, and Blaine pulled the blanket up over Kurt, rubbing his lover's arms to dry him off. They were plenty warm after…that, but anywhere outside of the blanket was freezing, and he didn't want Kurt to get sick with all that cold sweat chilling his skin.

"Moments like this, what," he asked gently, placing soft kisses on the pale face next to his.

"It's moments like this when I forget. I forget what brought us together and what we may face when we wake up tomorrow."

Blaine sighed in pain and he took his Kurt's hand, kissing it before gazing into those beautiful, sorrowful eyes. "Don't be afraid, Kurt. The resistance is growing. Soon this horrible genocide will be over and we'll be free together."

Kurt squeezed back and closed his eyes, a single tear escaping. "I've been here nine months. You've been here almost a year. How much longer do you think we have?"

Blaine expelled a deep breath; he didn't want to think about it. "All I care about is that I'm with you now," he whispered, using his free thumb to wipe away the tear on his lover's cheek.

The brunette looked up at Blaine and searched his eyes. For what, Blaine didn't know. "Promise me something Blaine."

"Anything," he said earnestly, squeezing their hands together even tighter.

"If they take me away—"

"They won't ta—"

"If they do," Kurt said forcefully, and probably a little louder than he should have. He was bordering on tears and Blaine apologetically cupped his face, using his thumbs to caress his trembling lower lip. "If they do," he continued, in a more hushed voice. "I want you to promise me that you won't react."

The older man felt his throat constrict. "Kurt—"

"You saw what they did to those girls two months ago."

He pressed his forehead to Kurt's and closed his eyes, trying uselessly to will the memory away. A young blonde girl was chosen from the line, and a very angry Latina girl about the same age raised hell, kicking and yelling in Spanish as she tried to keep the guards away from her friend. They shot the Latina point-blank.

"I can face my own death Blaine…but the idea of you being killed because you were trying to defend me…my heart can't take it."

Blaine threw his arms around Kurt, squeezing his lover and kissing at his neck to hide his tears. "Kurt, I can't do that. Without you by my side I won't last in this place. I won't last a day. If you get chosen I'll perish."

"Blaine please! If not for me, then do it for your sister. She's waiting for you on the outside; you have to make it home to her," he pleaded, and pulled at his lover's neck, forcing their eyes to meet again. "I know that you'll be in pain but…please."

Blaine swallowed and closed his eyes again, thinking of Kurt, the only love he'd ever known. His heart burned at the very idea of losing him. And then he thought of his sister. His sweet, innocent little sister.

"I promise."

The younger man nodded gratefully and leaned over, pressing their lips together in the sweetest, most passionate kiss they'd ever shared.

"I love you."

"I love you too. More than anything."

The next day, they waited in line. They remembered to stand away from each other to avoid suspicion. But it didn't matter. Kurt was chosen.

Blaine averted his eyes, refusing to watch as the guards prodded Kurt out of formation. His lover didn't speak, his steps crunching the gravel beneath his feet the only sound of his submission to the order.

He clenched his fists, but only briefly, and he squared his jaw, keeping his face frozen with an expression of blandness as more names were called. He had to keep his promise. He locked his legs to keep them from buckling, or worse, running after Kurt. While his heart hammered out angrily in his chest he took steady, even breaths to keep the tears at bay. For just a moment he prayed that his name would be called so he could be with Kurt. Then his sister's smiling face flashed before his minds' eye, and he damned himself before coming back to the present, listening as the last of the prisoners were chosen. He wasn't among them. When the guards finally dismissed the ranks Blaine kept his eyes trained to the ground as he numbly trudged away. He didn't want to know which direction they were taking Kurt.

That night, when he was alone in the bunkroom, free from the scrutinizing stares of the guards, he collapsed onto his bed and sobbed endlessly, and his heart shattered over and over as he smelled Kurt's scent on his pillow.

Two weeks later, the resistance freed his camp. One week after that, he was cradling his precious little sister within his arms, rocking her soothingly and crying silently. And three years later, the heartless dictator was overthrown, and all the Execution Camps were destroyed. Blaine had a job and had found a new home, but every night he slept with Kurt's pillowcase, dreading the day his scent would disappear and the only thing left of their time together would be Blaine's broken heart.

FIN

Okay, this didn't come out as emotional as I'd like, but I'm relatively satisfied with it. Um…hehe…please don't hate me guys! This is what happens when your brain concocts a mix of Sophie's Choice and V for Vendetta! And this is obviously way darker than I normally go, and I'm so sorry if it upset you, but I'm just trying to spread my wings. I highly recommend you go read some fluff now! I promise, it'll help! PS, hopefully have to update for Duets up by tonight.