I lead my troops forward down the street as people cheer around us. We've alerted the President that we have eliminated Karofsky's troops, and they threw our troops a parade. A freakin' parade. Kurt is cold and alone somewhere or, God forbid, dead, and I'm at a parade. I'm a terrible person.

We walk in a straight line, David at my right and Wes at my left as I lead my men forward. Something is distracting David in the crowd. I shouldn't look, but I peek my head out in front of my friend nonetheless. A strong, tan man with a mohawk is pushing people out of his way in an effort to stay parallel to me. He keeps waving his arms frantically, and I somehow know he's trying to get my attention. We make eye contact, and his eyebrows raise in surprise as his waving increases in pace. "Blaine!" he begins calling out. "Blaine, please!"

"I'll alert security," Wes mutters, exasperated. He motions for a man in a blue suit to approach him, and he quickly whispers in the man's ear before he nods and runs over to the guy with the mohawk. "Blaine," he is still calling. "Kurt needs-!"

The sound of his voice is cut off by Wes, who inhales sharply. "What did that man just say?"

I shake my head and continue walking, but now I'm shaking and can't help but feel like I need to talk to this man at all costs. I glance over at David, who's staring at me with his dark eyes. Something tells me David was my real friend all along. "Go," is all he needs to say. I take off running, and I can hear the people around me muttering to one another. The tan guy gives me a cocky grin and starts running away, but I have the good sense to follow him.

His legs are much longer than mine. It takes all of my effort to keep up with him, but I somehow manage. Finally, he stops beside a small blue station wagon, barely panting. "He's in there," he says, opening the passenger's side door for me. I glance inside and see a small man sitting in the driver's seat, his face masked by the oversized hood that is shrouding his features.

"Blaine." My eyes grow wide. I know this voice.

"Kurt! Kurt, I knew you would-"

"Shh! I'm not supposed to be alive, remember?" I sputter, but I nod and do as he does. We are both staring out the front window, our lips barely moving as we speak to one another.

"What do you need? Money? I can get you anything, if you just wait here until the parade is done."

"I'm here to tell you something, Blaine."

"Tell me what?" I furrow my brow slightly, but it would be unnoticeable to anyone passing by our car. "And where did you get a car, anyway?"

"Puck stole it for me," he said, gesturing with one finger over to the large man I had been following. "But that's not the point. Karofsky and his troops, they survived. I don't know when they're going to get here, but it won't be long now."

"Wait, hold on a minute-"

"There's no time, Blaine! You need to get together as many troops as you can and defend the city!"

I have a hard time believing what Kurt is telling me. My mind goes into autopilot and I call Wes, telling him everything I know without saying who gave me the information. Wes is skeptical but takes my words into account and assures me that we will be ready when the time comes. By the time I get off the phone, Kurt has removed his hood and I can see a small tear trickling across the expansive of his pale cheek.

"Hey, come here," I say soothingly, turning towards him and pulling him into a tight embrace, not caring who can see. "Everything will be fine."

"No, it won't!" Kurt suddenly sobs into my shoulder. "This is the last time I'm ever gonna see you, isn't it?" I frown, but I can't answer that question because I truly don't know. He can see it in my eyes, and I can hear his sadness in his cracked words. "Just be safe. Please."

I lift his face to mine and nod so he can see me. Kurt gives me a small smile and I duck down low so that no one outside the car can see me kiss his cheek. "Stay here. Whatever you do, don't get out of this car. Drive off if you really have to, but for the love of God don't get out."

"I- I..." Kurt purses his lips and gives me a solemn nod. "I promise."

"Good." I kiss his forehead, my fingers lingering against his cheek as I open the car door and climb out without another word. Puck is still standing there like nothing was wrong. I keep my head low and start walking, but he reaches out to me.

"You really love him, don't you?" The question is asked innocently, and I can tell Puck isn't being judgmental. He's trying to understand. I wipe off a tear that suddenly forms in the corner of my eye and walk faster, wishing everyone could just give understanding a try. But right now, I have bigger problems.