Warnings for mentions of cannibalism and dead children.

Thanks to my game master Frank for allowing me to use the term 'streetsweeper'.

And, as always, thanks to my beta voyageasia.

They say it has to get worse before it can get better. Well, it has to get better soon, because if it gets any worse, they'll all be dead.

They are now, officially, starving. Kurt has long since given up on thinking about what it is that he's eating; the only thing that counts is that he's eating. Anything that gives his stomach even the illusion of food is welcome. Everyone in the city is so thin. In combination with the cold that makes them huddle in their insufficient clothes in their mostly insufficient shelters, they look like ghosts, not people. A few babies have been born, weak and malnourished, but they die soon because their starving mothers don't have enough milk to feed them.

Then there are, as always, those who seek to profit from other people's misery. The serving areas where what food they have is distributed are heavily guarded, and smart people eat their share right there and then, because apparently whatever is taken where the militia is not present is fair game.

People fight for everything. The days of comparative peace and quiet in their overcrowded city are definitely over. Guards are everywhere, and Kurt hasn't talked to Blaine in days because he's always working, or sleeping and then going right back to work, trying to maintain some sort of order. The guards' job isn't easy, either. People are desperate, and the guards are just as thin and weak as the rest of them. They are discouraged from using their weapons so as to not end any more lives. Sometimes the threat suffices, but often, they have to get creative.

When one guard uses a broom handle to break up a fight, leaving one or two of the participants with a lump on their heads as a reminder, the militia gets a nickname: Streetsweepers. As they've never been given an official name, the moniker sticks, and soon, everybody calls them this.

Kurt laughs about this for days, but never in Blaine's face. He knows it would hurt his feelings, and he looks worn and tired enough these days. But after a few days, Blaine accepts the name and even sees honor in it: those that keeps things clean. It's as good a job as any, he says.

Kurt himself doesn't do much. People don't really have anything to give anymore, and most are too busy trying to survive anyhow to think about sex.

He still goes on the wall, even though climbing the stairs feels harder every day and, once on top, he feels more fragile than ever, ready for the wind to snap him in two or carry him away.

Sometimes, he hopes for this.

He still is afraid, though. He doesn't stand up anymore when he's on the North side. He crouches, trying to give the wind as little surface as possible.

And then, one day, he can see the ground. At least he thinks so. He has never seen the ground before, not on this side, and as he looks, bending dangerously far over the edge of the wall, he still isn't completely sure. It looks mostly like the rest of the world on this side does, but still, there's a difference – he thinks.

On the second day, he is a little more certain, and on the third day, he is almost completely sure. He can see the ground. Which means that there's less sand and dust in the air, which, in turn, means – it has to mean that the wind weakens.

After a week of watching, hoping and agonizing, he finally has the confidence to tell someone. Not Blaine; he still doesn't know about the wall, and Kurt would like to keep it that way.

He goes to 'his' guard instead. although he has developed the unflattering and rather stupid habit of looking around him when ever he's talking to Kurt, as if to make sure nobody sees them together. As Kurt is not so much of an outcast that people won't talk to him, he can only guess it's because the guard is afraid people might somehow discover what Kurt has done to him.

"Puck," he says when the streetsweeper is finally sure they're clear to talk, "I need you to see something."

He hears nothing, and he hates the feeling that whatever happens is out of his hands now. Administration can't know it was him who saw the wind go down, so he can hardly go and inquire what they plan to do. It drives him crazy. He tosses and turns at night, to the point that his roommates notice. Santana just snaps at him to at least be quiet enough that others can sleep, but Rachel starts asking questions. Most of the time he pretends he doesn't hear.

Then, Blaine comes to him, his arms behind his back, trying and failing to hide a grin. He looks like he has a secret, a good one, that he's just dying to tell, and Kurt doesn't have it in him to act unconcerned for too long. Not when Blaine looks that excited.

"So you know how you're always complaining about suffocating in here and needing to get out?"

Kurt knows. He also knows that there really isn't much use complaining, but he can't seem to stop.

"What would you say if I told you that a few chosen people have actually the chance of going out and that if you wanted you could be one of them?"

"I'd say you better be serious, or I'll give you to Millie and she'll put you in the soup."

He winces; it's the sort of callous joke all of them make but Blaine doesn't like at all (They haven't yet started to eat each other; at least Kurt thinks they haven't, but who knows what's in the soup? But then, they're not too far from that point, either.).

This time though, Blaine doesn't seem to mind; he keeps on grinning and actually bounces a little on the balls of his feet.

"I'm serious. It seems that in the North, the winds have gone down enough that a few brave people can venture outside. It'll be dangerous, but I'll be going, and if you want, you could come too."

Kurt just has to hug him then, he can't help it. He pulls away quickly, though; in general, people don't really like to be hugged by him; although they'd never admit it, they think the touch of a whore only serves one goal.

Blaine doesn't let him go. He hugs back, pulls him closer and actually lifts him off his feet, and Kurt, for just a moment, lets himself enjoy the touch that comes with no expectations.

"It'll be dangerous," Blaine warns again, but Kurt shrugs.

"We're dying, Blaine. It can't really get more dangerous than that, can it?"

There's six of them, in the end. Kurt will never understand it, but there haven't been more volunteers, even though Administration had wanted at least ten to go. It seems that most people prefer the known suffering to the unknown, even if it might be an improvement. Kurt for one can't wait to go; he sits through the prep meetings mentally shuffling his feet.

Kurt doesn't bother to learn the names of his fellow explorers. He has no doubt he will get to know them eventually, not that he cares. Blaine is with him, which is enough; so is Puck, who demonstratively starts making out with a girl also with them every time Kurt as much as glances in his general direction. It's highly awkward, and Kurt just hopes he will have more important things to do once they're actually on their way.

On the morning of their departure, they are given protective eye wear that has been assembled from god knows where. Glasses tinted in any color imaginable that make the world look pink or green, things fit with elastic bands that are so snug it hurts, but that will probably be most effective against the sand that will blow into their faces. A pair of colorless glasses that make Kurt's vision blurry and that they pass around until the girl Puck has been making out with triumphantly declares to be able to see through them.

Then, just like that, they are leaving. They aren't giving an official goodbye or anything; despite the search for volunteers, Administration has managed to keep the whole thing more or less secret. No sense in getting people's hopes up, they said, when it all might come to nothing. Kurt isn't sure he agrees. Hopes may be disappointed, that's true, but the nearly complete hopelessness that has the city in its grasp now can't be better.

Someone from Administration opens a tiny gate in the North wall, and out they go. Without the protection the wall offers, the wind nearly knocks them off their feet, and quickly they draw shawls and scarves over their mouths and noses. They stagger forward, and as they get used to it, walking against the wind becomes easier. Kurt feels small, vulnerable; without realizing, he has grown accustomed to the confined spaces of the city. Even high up on the wall, the city's always there, threatening him with imprisonment and reassuring him with protection. Now, without the city, without the wall, he feels strangely exposed. And so small against the world he can almost see.

They walk, almost blindly, for a mile or so, every now and then stumbling over something. No one looks closer; all of them are aware that they will probably find decayed, half-eaten corpses at some point, but none of them is eager to start early.

Then, the wind dies down. It doesn't stop completely, and there is still enough sand in the air that they keep their goggles and their scarves, but they can see – for the first time, they can actually see where they are going.

It isn't pretty. As a matter of fact, it is complete devastation. They are standing in what must have been a village once, but not much of it remains.

Their mission leader rallies them, reminds them that their first priority is to find anything eatable, and then divides them into pairs. Kurt quickly slips to Blaine's side and is relieved when they are, indeed, paired together. He has no wish to do this with anyone else.

It turns out that he's not as cynical and realistic as he thought. Despite his assurances of the opposite to Blaine, he has imagined this trip as more of an adventure instead of the hard, disgusting and often simply sad work it is.

The village is close to the city. People haven't had far to run, most have probably made it, and yet, they find the remains of people killed by fallen beams or buried in their own homes when the roof broke down. They clear away stones and wood, occasionally calling others for help with something they alone can't lift. They drag corpses to what must have been the town square, where they will be burned. Blaine single-handedly digs out the broken body of a little girl and reverently carries her to the pyre, biting back tears the whole time. Kurt stands at his side, not knowing how to help. He doesn't understand how Blaine still isn't numb to all of this, how he still feels so much, but then he wouldn't want him to change.

They find some food. Not a lot; it's been so long that most of it has gone bad. But they're not picky, so they just shake most of the bugs out of the grain they find and take it anyway. Some potatoes, a little smoked meat and fish. They bag everything to take it back to the city.

At the end of the day, sweaty and tired, they gather in the square and watch the bodies burn. Kurt hesitantly puts an arm around Blaine's shoulders when he starts sniffling and is pathetically grateful when he doesn't pull away, but lays his head on his shoulder and seems to find comfort in it.

Their mission leader sends them off to sleep.

"Back tomorrow," she says, and Kurt is sure he has misunderstood.

"Aren't we going to explore? Or even clear up more? Maybe when the wind dies down more we could expand, send people out to live here, maybe plant things, so we wouldn't be so crowded and could actually grow some food?"

"No," she says matter-of-factly. "We're just here to find food. Orders from Administration. First and only priority."

"But -" Kurt follows her until she rolls out her blanket and settles down on it, arguing the whole time. She mostly ignores him, only occasionally offering a short "no". It is soon obvious she won't budge, doesn't even see anything wrong with her orders. Kurt only leaves her alone when she finally feigns sleep.

On the way back the next morning, he walks next to her, arguing the whole time. He is aware he is annoying her, and Blaine tries from time to time to get him to drop the subject, but Kurt is adamant. He can't believe they've only ventured outside for a few bags of potatoes when to him, everything is full of potential. And god knows the situation in the city needs relieving, badly. But apparently, Administration sees nothing wrong with the status quo.

When they arrive at the city, they are greeted by a small delegation who collect the food for redistribution.

Their mission leader is talking to one of them. She nods in Kurt's direction, then indicates him more openly, until the other person nods.