Disclaimer: I don't own glee or WW II or the pink triangle, Hitler and his Nazi's own that one.

Okay, sorry for any historical discrepancies in this chapter. I tried to do a little bit more research and hopefully I'm not moving to fast. I think for the next few chapters they'll be a little bit slower. I have quite a lot more that I want to add and of course we are not yet near D-day. So we'll all just have to wait and see what happens in the next few chapters together.

Please Review, or message me if there are any large discrepancies I can clear up for you. Or you could just review and let me know if I am moving to fast, or you are simply enjoying the story.


The next day, Blaine was shoved awake by his bunk mates getting down on the other side and clambering over him. Blaine looked around and realized people were getting up, but the guards hadn't called them yet.

Learn to anticipate. Blaine thought as he crawled off the hard wood of the so called bunk and hopped down onto the floor. As he got down he looked over to see Kurt's angelic face still resting on his 'pillow.'

Blaine reached over and gently placed his hand on Kurt's shoulder. His eyes popped open and looked a little red from his crying last night. Other than that he looked as disheveled and tired as anyone else.

Blaine attempted a smile which seemed to come out more as a grimace, and Kurt tried to smile back, although it didn't really reach his blue-gray eyes.

Kurt sat up and pulled his shirt back on then hopped off his own bunk and followed Blaine outside with the others.

They were given another bowl of the same 'soup' from the night before and were sent to the same project of digging. Blaine didn't know why they were digging. He was sure it wasn't really for anyone's grave. He was not innocent or naïve enough to believe that anyone would actually be buried here. Rumors circulated about a furnace of death on the other side of the wall but no one who went on the other side ever came out to confirm the rumors except a few forced laborers who never said anything. Blaine could only guess at it's purpose. He assumed there was an influx of prisoners and that there were not enough jobs with a practical purpose so they had been put to work digging.

Kurt and Blaine worked alongside each other that day, and as they worked, Blaine noticed an odd shape and color against Kurt's gray shirt.

It was a pink triangle. It was rather large and was sewn onto Kurt's shirt pointing down like an arrow. Underneath it was a 4-digit identifying number.

Blaine wondered curiously what this was, then he recalled his father saying something about a pink triangle on the way here.

It was during the long, hot train ride. His father had been quietly talking to another man about the Star of David and the man had shown his father a pink star like the one Kurt was wearing. He didn't yet have numbers but he had been told to wear the pink triangle everywhere.

Blaine's father had been fascinated, until he heard what the triangle meant. He had pulled back and tried to move away from the man as much as possible muttering something about liking other men.

Blaine had ignored this scene at the time, his mother had been laying on the floor with a slight fever. Now he recalled what the triangle meant and almost immediately felt shame at his father's reaction. He didn't understand why he was ashamed, probably because he liked Kurt. He seemed so innocent and pure in this place full of evil and malice.

He made a mental note to talk to Kurt about it and continued digging the hole. He didn't know how deep it needed to be, or how wide so he just continued to stay on the same level and width as the others.


After Blaine had been there about a month, the hole was declared finished and two SS men came over to the group. One of them shouted, "I need two...volunteers!"

Everyone just stared at them quietly, while others shuffled their feet and looked at the ground. No one wanted to dig anymore, but no one knew what they would be assigned to next. The unknown was frightening and unnerving as a group. It would be worse if it were just two of them.

Blaine glanced around at the others and met Kurt's exhausted gaze for a moment. Then he looked back up at the Gestapo and stepped forward firmly.

Beside him he felt Kurt tentatively step forward as well and Blaine smiled inwardly to himself.

The men nodded and motioned for Kurt and Blaine to follow.

One of the men motioned at Kurt and drew a triangle in the air on his chest, then he pointed at Blaine and laughingly said to the other soldier, "You think he's one too?" The other man looked at Kurt uneasily but said, "Maybe they like each other in their sick and twisted way." They laughed and Kurt turned slightly pink. Blaine clenched his jaw and kept quiet with effort. They didn't need to say those things to about them and who Kurt like was his own business.

As for himself, Blaine had come to like Kurt Hummel. While he appeared pale, fragile, and weak, Kurt was strong in his own way. He handled his beatings patiently, like he'd been conditioned to do since coming here and even before when people found out he liked other men. Blaine could see the raging fire behind Kurt's eyes when people, more often guards, insulted him. However he held himself in check, which Blaine thought, took enormous strength.

Maybe Blaine had started liking him a little too much. He thought about Kurt quite often, but for now he pushed those thoughts away and focused on what his next task would be. Blaine could work with his hands to keep his thoughts busy and he figured if this next job was as strenuous as the last it would keep his mind off of Kurt and the feelings and thoughts that were beginnging to confuse him.

They lead them towards the fire and the wall that it was behind.

The men lead them straight to the building with the fire. They were taken to a room with a furnace, something like what pizza is cooked in, but with a rack that pulls in and out of the furnace.

The soldiers stopped and one of them said, "We need one of you to hold the door open and keep the fire going while the other loads the bodies and pushes them in.

Blaine and Kurt were stunned. Although it did not show on their faces, which appeared almost trance-like.

"Tell no one about your work. Your punishment will be severe if you do."

"These are the vermin who did not survive. You will be watched closely, so make sure the work gets done."

With that one of the guards left and the other stationed himself at attention near the door, waiting for them to begin. "The bodies are in that room, there." He pointed to a doorway, connecting to the furnace room. It was full of skeletons. There is no other word to describe them, they were almost void of flesh and Blaine was sick at the sight.

Kurt put his hand over his mouth and turned away from the room, perhaps remembering his father, wondering what had befallen him.

"Blaine…I can't…I can't…"

Blaine looked at Kurt and then at the soldier waiting for them to begin. "Kurt," he said quietly, "You get the fire started and keep it going. Just hold the door open. I'll do the rest."

Kurt looked terrified, but Blaine pushed him in the direction of the furnace and Kurt did as he was told. Once the fire was ready and hot enough, Blaine took a deep breath and plunged into the room, lugging the first body out and placing it on a metal rack, then he used a fire poker to push the rack inside the flames.

Kurt quickly shut the door, so as to be spared the gruesome sight of the body going up in flames, and Blaine shuddered quickly before turning to get the next body.

They continued like this, each crying silent tears at times throughout the day. When the bell rang to stop, their tear-stained faces looked towards their guard who nodded and gestured toward the door. They didn't need any more permission than that.

The two boys hurried out of the furnace room and were escorted by their guard to the kitchens.

They rushed over to the line and were given a moldy crust of bread for their dinner that night. Then they rejoined their group and were herded to barrack 28 and back to their bunks.

They silently climbed into bed and Kurt tucked his shirt up under his head again.

Over and over in his mind, Blaine heard a repeating phrase. What have I done? What have I done? He fell asleep to this mantra. Thoughts of asking Kurt about the triangle completely fled his mind.


Over the next few weeks, Blaine and Kurt slowly became conditioned to their work. After all, it wasn't exactly murder. These people were already dead. Of course the sweeping of the ashes was the hardest part but, eventually you begin to do a job without even thinking about it.

On certain days, when the guard was in a better mood than normal, the two boys conversed a little. Blaine and Kurt seldom talked to anyone but one another. Holding their tongues about their job.

They spoke of the lives they had had once upon a time and the hopes they had had for the future. It seemed strange to speak of the future though, surrounded by so many whose futures had been snatched from them. So mostly they talked of the past. They talked of their families. How Kurt's father had only been brought here because of Kurt and because he had refused to let his son come alone. Kurt had almost had a stepmother and brother at one point, but Burt and Kurt and felt it best to distance themselves from them so they might have a better chance at surviving in case anything ever happened to one of them. Kurt had troubles remembering his mother, but he had been quite fond of his almost-stepmother, Carole.

Blaine told stories of his own mother and father and his childhood. He always watched for a glimpse of his parents, but since they were in different barracks and had different jobs there was not much time for mingling.

Then one day, while the two boys were working quietly, having nothing in particular to talk about that day. Blaine pulled out a body and paused. He turned around very slowly and carried the body tenderly over to the rack setting it on there carefully. It was a woman whose gray hair had once been black and whose face, you could tell, had once been beautiful.

Kurt gave him a questioning look and Blaine looked up at him, tears forming in his eyes.

He cleared his throat and tried to speak but words wouldn't come out.

Finally the guard noticed the work had stopped. "What are you doing over there? Sleeping? Get back to work."

Blaine opened his mouth again, licked his lips and said, "Kurt, push this one in will you? I'll hold the door for a moment."

Kurt swallowed, but at the look in his eyes couldn't tell Blaine no.

He moved around to the rack and took the poker from Blaine who held the somewhat heavy door open.

Then Kurt pushed the rack in and stood back so Blaine could shut the door.

Only he didn't shut it immediately. He held it just a little longer before slowly letting it shut.

Kurt looked at him curiously for a moment before turning away.

Before him stood Blaine, who walked zombie-like over to the room of bodies and wiped his eyes uselessly for a moment as a single tear began a silent cascade.

Their work continued and that night when the bell rang, Blaine didn't eat anything. He shoved his portion of the soup at Kurt and slumped his shoulders.

Kurt looked at him, worry etched onto his face. "Blaine you need to eat."

Blaine shook his head.

"What's the matter?"

Blaine shook his head again.

Looking around, Kurt snatched a crust of bread up off the ground and stuck it in his pocket. Then while he was climbing into bed that night he leaned over to Blaine.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Kurt asked, realizing how their roles had reversed.

Blaine wiped his continuous tears away as he climbed onto his bunk.

Kurt waited patiently in the silence until Blaine whispered, "That woman from earlier today," he breathed in a deep, shuddering breath, "was my mother."

Kurt swallowed a lump which had formed in his throat and then said, "Blaine, I'm so sorry."

Blaine just wiped his eyes with his sleeve again.

"Would she be worried about you?"

Blaine looked confused but nodded. "Probably. Why?"

"You didn't eat anything tonight."

Blaine sighed. "I couldn't."

"Would she want to hear that?" Kurt asked softly.

"No." Blaine answered.

"Here." Kurt reached over and handed Blaine the bread.

"Thanks Kurt." Blaine said, his voice gravelly and rouch from crying so much.

Kurt just nodded and couldn't help thinking about how helpless he had felt when his father had died.

Blaine knew, as he slowly devoured his crust, that Kurt could understand his anguish better than almost anyone at the moment. They'd both lost parents that they hadn't had the chance or the means to save.

In that moment, Blaine felt connected to Kurt. More connected to Kurt than anyone he'd ever known, except perhaps his mother.

He quietly munched on his morsel of bread and fell asleep, feeling fuller and more comforted than he ever had before. He didn't know it, but that night he dreamed and in his sleep he smiled.


There you have it, chapter two. Sorry if that was bit harsh, but what can I say. World War II was ugly.

Thank you so much for all the helpful reviews and letting me know when I needed to revise. How else do I expect to get any better at my writing. Thank you all so much!

Thankies,
OSK