Author's Note: HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY! I have deprived myself of sleep in order to get this out today. So yay! Army themed update!

Also, yes, you read correctly. There is now character death in this story. I'm so sorry. It was always my intention for this to happen.

*WARNING* MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. Triggers for deployment, death of a loved one, strong language, mentions of mental instability and life after death.

Again, no beta. All mistakes are my own.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing, nothing. No profit made etc. See Chapter 1 for more elaborate disclaimer.

~C.J.

(Chapter 9)

Kurt doesn't remember opening his eyes. All he's aware of is the pristine white ceiling he's staring at. He's too afraid to look around, to even blink. Can he move? Can he speak?

"Kurt?"

Without even thinking about it, Kurt shifts his glasz eyes towards the sound of his name being called. Neck twisting slightly as the bed dipped next to him, seeing the one who said his name.

"Oh, baby. You're all right. You're okay." He ran his hand through Kurt's hair, sure fingers threading through his delicate locks. Kurt could feel him, the unquestionable weight against his head, and it was wonderful, it was amazing. "Please, Kurt. Please say something."

Soft lips pressed against his forehead, the protective palm cradling the side of his head, and dark curls brushing against Kurt's face as the other rubbed their noses together affectionately. "B-Blaine?"

Blaine laughed a bit, the corners of his hazel eyes growing wet at how emotional he was feeling. So he just settled for nodding, and pressed his lips against Kurt's slightly dry ones. At least they were warm. At least they were responsive. "Oh, thank you. Thank you thank you thank you."

His fingers twitched at his sides, flexing and stretching with the urge to feel and touch. Because he still COULD. "What's going on? What happened?"

The soldier cleared his throat, sliding down so he was on the bed lying on his side, looking down at his husband. His hand was still cupping Kurt's cheek, tracing the alabaster skin. "What do you remember?"

Kurt furrowed his brows, glancing up and searching hazel eyes for an explanation. "I…I'm not sure." He swallowed thickly, racking his brain for the right answer. "I'm-I'm in a hospital."

"Yes, yes you are."

He pressed his palms against the bed, pushing into a sit-up position so he could look more. Kurt only managed about halfway up, before his husband was helping prop himself up against the pillows. "Thank you." Glasz eyes looked around the room, the interior of the room just causing Kurt to become even more confused. "There's nothing here. Not even another chair. Blaine, where is everyone else?"

Blaine smiled softly, brushing a stray strand of chestnut hair away from Kurt's forehead. "Waiting for you to wake up."

"Well, I'm awake. I want them in here now." He looked towards the sliding door, only to find the privacy curtains drawn.

"I don't think you're allowed more than one or two visitors. Hospital policy and all that."

"I don't give a damn about hospital policy." Kurt made a frustrated sound, pouting at Blaine and making to get out of the bed so he could tell the nurse's station himself that his family was certainly allowed in. But then, he noticed something, something off. He stared at his hands gripping the hospital blankets, his flawless non-IV pricked hands. Kurt fiddled with both his hands, tracing and feeling for any needle prick he could find. Nothing.

"Hey, you okay?" Blaine grasped his frantically searching fingers, steadying them and rubbing them gently.

"Blaine, something's wrong." The blue eyed man ripped his hands away and started feeling around his bed, looking for that clippy thing that was always clamped onto his finger or a detached IV. When he found nothing, he eyed both sides of his bed, feeling more panicky by the second when he didn't spot an IV bag or that machine that beeped along with his heart.

"Whoa, whoa. Honey, you have to calm down here."

"No, no I can't calm down!" He ran his fingers all through his hair, fighting the urge to grip and rip. "Don't you see? This isn't right." Then he felt it, that spot right behind his ear. It was like a jolt, a violent flash of déjà vu. "Oh God…"

"What?"

"Oh God…Oh God," Kurt kept rubbing that spot behind his ear, the one that was supposed to have been shaved. It wasn't. "What is happening? What is happening to me!" He pressed his hands over his face, refusing to acknowledge the one explanation that kept revisiting his brain over and over again.

"Kurt, please." Blaine guided his husband's face back towards him, urging him to lower his hands. "Don't hide from me. Come on, baby, look at me."

It was only with Blaine's patient insistence that Kurt allowed his husband to reveal his face, sniffling pathetically as he felt like bursting into tears at any moment. He looked to Blaine with his glassy glasz eyes, "Am I dead? Is this me…dead?"

All Blaine could do was give him a sympathetic expression, lovingly rubbing his thumbs under Kurt's eyes to stop any droplets from spilling out. "You still don't remember, do you?"

"Remember? Really? You still want me to remember things that don't fucking matter anymore?!"

"Who says they don't matter?"

"I do! What's the point of a memory to a dead person!?" Kurt was breathing heavily now, hyperventilating with the notion that this was it. He's reached his end.

"Memories are precious to anyone, dead or alive."

He still felt like he couldn't get enough air, but the bizarreness of that statement distracted him a bit. "W-What?"

"Because in the end, it's the only thing we have left. The only thing that we can hold onto, that we can take with us."

"I don't understand." Kurt breathed.

"That's because you don't REMEMBER. You have to try to remember." Blaine pushed, placing a palm over Kurt's fist, the one gripping the sheets white-knuckle tight.

"I don't know how." He was shaking now. Kurt didn't know what Blaine wanted, how to recall something his mind didn't freely give him. "Can't you just tell me?"

"No, I can't. That wouldn't do you any good." Blaine got on knees, kneeling in front of Kurt who was sitting cross-legged on the bed. When the paler man downcast his eyes, his husband caught his chin before he could fully look away, a half-smirk on his lips. "But I can help you."

"I don't—"

Blaine cut off any more protests, kissing his husband desperately and passionately. Kurt only made a half-noise of confusion before giving in to the soldier, letting the other cup the back of his head and angle their mouths this way and that. The blue eyed male didn't even flinch when calloused fingers grazed against the supposedly shaven portion of his hair. Instead he reciprocated, pressing forward almost immediately, the plunder and frenzy of their kisses making Kurt's mind settle, and his frantic heart rate slow down. 'Dirty' wasn't the point of the kiss, it was the love Blaine tried to portray in it's depth. When they finally pulled away, Blaine pressed their foreheads together, pecking Kurt's nose cutely while he tried to catch his breath. "Are your eyes closed?"

"Uhuh."

"Keep them closed for me?"

"Kay…" He didn't know where Blaine was going with this little experiment, but he knew him well enough to know that the sergeant was only trying to help him. Kurt took one more steadying breath, taking comfort in the thumb rubbing soothing circles just below his ear. He trusted Blaine.

He would always trust Blaine.

Do you remember

Flying high above the waves?

Past a dozen amber moons

To an island of lagoons

With magic shores and endless caves?

"Peter Pan?" Kurt laughed breathlessly, already feeling his eyes water. "My favorite."

Do you remember

How the sun would stain the sand?

How still the time would stay

Golden arrows point the way

To that close but far off land

"Just think to before."

"Listen to the sound of my voice."

"And let it come back to you."

Tell me you remember

Kurt nodded obediently, leaning his forehead forward a bit more to rest more of his weight against his husband's. "I'm scared."

Tell me you remember

Blaine moved his free hand to grip one of Kurt's, squeezing it reassuringly. "There's no need. Not when your soldier boy is right here, beside you."

Do you remember

A pirate's hand of steel?

How one day you learned to trust

That a pinch of fairy dust

Isn't make believe

It's real

"My soldier boy…"

Tell me you remember

Remembering isn't like a switch. It doesn't just start to happen because you've decided that you want it to. It's gradual, and steady, a stream of recollection. But once you've allowed it to come forth, there's no choosing which memory is being withdrawn.

Tell me you remember

The memories were slow, unhurriedly bleeding through his consciousness. It was the emotions Kurt felt first, a crippling sensation that nearly had him collapsing against Blaine.

Your ears have tiny holes now

There are lines upon your cheek

You take longer than you used to

Before you choose to speak

But Blaine was there to catch him, steadying him so he could look into those glasz orbs that he adored.

Do you still bite your lip

Whenever you feel nervous?

And you twist your hair

When you don't know what else to do

Kurt covered his mouth with his hand, muffling the sobs that burned in his chest. It hurt. He still didn't know what it was, but it hurt.

I remember that

I remember you

Blaine didn't hide his own tears this time, letting them slide down his cheeks as he watched his husband unravel before him.

I remember you

You

"No, I can't." Kurt barely gasped out.

Do you remember

When at last I stole your kiss?

Many children come and go

I forget them once they grow old

You're the only one I miss

He stared at his soldier through his misty eyes, taking in every curl and every unique quirk. In that moment, he realized something.

Kurt never truly forgot.

Close your eyes and see

Somehow remember

Remember me

Flashes of memories flickered before him. His first collapse at the University, waking up in a hospital bed, test after test searching for only Gaga knows what for months on end, the first time he threw his bedpan at Finn, and everything else in between. There were a lot of little memories he became aware of once again, but he knew which one Blaine meant. "You're asking me to remember the worst day of my life…"

"So you're saying you remember?"

"I'm saying I never forgot."

"Well, now I'm the one who doesn't understand."

Kurt's lower lip trembled, hitching breaths coming from him as he began. "Kurt Hummel-Anderson, it is with our deepest regret that we have to inform you—"

Blaine frowned, "What are you doing?"

"Sshh." Kurt quieted him. "—that your husband, Sergeant Anderson, was a victim of an IED."

"Kurt…"

"No, you wanted me to remember. So I am!" he shouted. "Two army guys showed up in my hospital room, told me you…you were KILLED IN ACTION. Why would I want to remember that!?"

"Because denying it won't make it any less true."

"And accepting it doesn't make me feel any less crazy!" When Blaine looked confused, Kurt pressed on. "You've been dead this ENTIRE time. That means I haven't really seen you, touched you, talked to you…it also means you broke your promise." He finished softly.

That hurt on a whole other level for Blaine. "That's not fair."

"Nothing about this is fair!" Kurt cried. "You promised that you would always come back to me, no matter what, and you didn't. So excuse me for not wanting to go through my day knowing that my soldier boy can never come home to me."

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't." The emotional man gasped out, speaking through hitching breaths as he couldn't control his sobs anymore. "Don't be sorry. Ju-Just tell me. Am I…am I dead?"

"Kurt…"

Kurt actually snorted, a pathetic sounding one that got caught on a cry. "Because right now, this, this shouldn't be possible. The only way this is happening is if I bit it on the operating table. Or, and I can't decide if this option is better or worse, I really have lost my mind. I was so overwhelmed by grief that I finally cracked, and the minute I wake up there will be a padded room waiting for me."

Blaine chuckled, a deep and wholehearted one that warmed Kurt from his toes to the tips of his ears. "I can't tell you what to believe. We've never had the same views on things such as that."

"You're not helping."

The solider gave him an empathetic look, reaching a hand out to his husband. "Let me hold you?"

He sniffed, "Why?"

"Because I'm not ready to leave you."

Kurt made a pained noise, letting the other maneuver them until they were lying on their sides, facing each other with one of Blaine's arms hugging Kurt's body close. "Why is this happening? Why did you even come back if you were…you know."

Blaine smirked a bit, "Because you asked me to." Kurt's eyes bugged out, prompting the soldier to chuckle and explain. "You were calling for me, everyday. I could hear you, pleading for me, wanting me there." He grabbed one of Kurt's hands and placed it over his heart. "I could feel how sad you were when I wasn't there, how disappointed. It kills me on the inside knowing I can never keep the most important promise I made to you, but I can't find myself to be angry. I wouldn't change what we had for anything in the world. I love you, so much, and I'm glad I got to tell you that, to be there when you needed me one last time."

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, leaning forward to bury his head against Blaine's chest. He snuggled closer to his lover, only letting out gasping breaths when tanned arms wrapped around him tightly. The paler male slid a hand up, placing it over the area where his tears had began dampening the shirt. "But I can still feel you though. Your skin is still warm, your heart is beating under my palm, and I can even smell you, that obnoxious scent of aftershave and a hint of hair gel. It's my favorite smell in the world. Why? Why can I smell you?"

The soldier shook his head, kissing Kurt's hair as he cuddled him closer. "All I know is that I was here for you. I needed to be here for you." He whispered.

"Do-Do you know? H-H-How long w-we have?" The blue-eyed man stuttered out, his jaw trembling with his efforts.

Again, he shook his head. "No, but I don't want to waste a second of what I have left with you."

Kurt nodded, kissing over Blaine's heart when he found the strength. "Sergeant Anderson, Blaine Hummel-Anderson. I love you, more than anything in this world, I do. You are a wondrous man, and I'm so happy I got to love a soldier like you."

Blaine closed his eyes, chest tightening at his husband's words. "I'm pretty un-extraordinary actually, it was only with you that I felt like I could be more than what my family expected. I don't know what good I did to deserve you, but I can never express how grateful I am to have had you in my life. You made me better just by being near me."

"Are you saying goodbye?"

"I…"

"Because I don't want to say goodbye."

The hazel-eyed soldier nodded, at this point willing to give his husband whatever he wanted. He cleared his throat, blinking back what few tears hadn't slipped down his cheeks. "What would you rather do? What would you…rather say?"

"Can I know what happened? When that…DI, is that what I said?"

"IED?"

"Yeah, they wouldn't tell me much, or if they tried, I was too distraught to actually listen. But I think I deserve to know how it happened."

Blaine sighed, "Are you sure you want to know? I don't want to cause you more pain."

"My husband died overseas, by himself, a million miles away from me where I couldn't do a thing to help him. I'm already in pain…" He deadpanned.

The soldier conceded, taking a small breath before saying what happened. "I don't remember a play by play exactly. But I will tell you, the place it happened, doesn't matter."

"But…"

"No, just trust me when I say that the acts of a few bad people doesn't mean one persecutes an entire country or civilization. It's what I have learned, and what I hope you understand, okay?"

"…all right."

"Good, good. Well, in all honestly I didn't find out it was an IED until you told me. I just knew I heard an explosion. I was talking with Jeremiah, when we heard it. Some of the soldiers took cover, but I ran towards it. When I rounded a corner, I saw that the supplies truck was overturned. There were people in there, there was medical supplies the soldiers at the post needed, and…the truck was still burning." Blaine trailed off, not sure what to expect from Kurt.

"Don't stop," Kurt grit out. "I said I wanted to know."

Blaine rubbed up and down Kurt's back, trying to soothe him when his whole body tensed. "I didn't think about anything, other than I needed to help. It was stupid, reckless, and a smart person probably wouldn't have."

"But you did…"

"Yeah, but I did."

"Did anyone else at least try to help too?" The paler boy narrowed his eyes, hoping Blaine wasn't going solo.

"I can't remember, not clearly. I think Jeremiah ran with me to help, and a couple others too. I'm not sure." Blaine furrowed his brows, "It was just…all touch and go. No time to look around or hesitate. Just act."

"But what about Wes, and David, and Santana?"

"They weren't in my unit. It was just Jeremiah. We searched for survivors, salvageable supplies, and then…it's a bit hazy. I remember feelings more than anything. It was hot, burning hot, and there was pain. Then, suddenly there wasn't anything." Blaine tried.

"You don't remember anything else?" Kurt asked.

"No, I really don't."

Kurt considered that for a moment, and then curled his fingers over his husband's rib cage. "I'm glad. That shouldn't be your last memory anyway."

Despite himself, Blaine smiled. "One fatal memory can not erase the lifetime of happiness I had with you…I'm just sorry I couldn't finish it by your side."

His pale neck craned back, a fond expression on his face. "I love you. If nothing else, at least remember that, and take it with you."

"Couldn't forget that little tidbit if I tried. That fact alone has gotten me through some tough situations." He admitted.

Kurt refused to start sobbing again, but it was almost impossible to keep left over tears from spilling over. He didn't want to spend his last moments with his husband crying. "Tell me one." The blue-eyed man rushed out.

"One what?"

"A memory, a memory of us. One of your favorite's, it can be sweet, funny, or kinky I don't care." He chuckled brokenly.

"Any memory with you is my favorite."

He could practically hear Blaine's smirk, so he slapped the soldier's abdomen. "There's another memory of me calling you a cheesy sap to add to your list."

"I cherish them deeply."

Kurt couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh or cry. He as going to miss this ridiculous back and forth him and Blaine always seem to get themselves into. "Honey, please?"

Blaine laid his head back against the pillow, thinking of a good one to share. "I'm not trying to be sappy when I say that they all LITERALLY mean something special to me. Even the smallest ones, the sillier ones, which is all that's coming to mind at the moment, damn."

"It's fine. Tell me."

"Are you sure you don't want me to think of a more romantical one?"

His husband snorted, "Romantical?"

"A memory of epically romantic proportions."

He giggled, Kurt always giggled when Blaine talked utter gooberness. "Blaine Devon, any memory you tell me can never be too small, or too silly. I really, really want to hear it."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

The first time Kurt and Blaine were able to be intimate was the night Blaine first arrived home to his boyfriend waiting for him, and with a big obnoxious—but appreciated—sign to boot. Well, they hadn't officially said they were together per se, but the recently coming home soldier was determined to make that distinction very clear. However, before Blaine could even try to make an attempt at that conversation, Kurt was on him. The two hadn't even made it past the aspiring fashion designer's living room. The taller male had damn near knocked his soldier's bags out of his hands before he kissed him.

Blaine was exhausted, bone-tired even, but once those petal soft lips pressed against his, he was a goner. The soldier was almost invigorated by the kisses, even finding it within himself to grab a hold of Kurt's legs and hike them up around his waist so the lither male had to cling to him. Kurt wrapped his arms around his neck, carding his fingers into the sergeant's curls, knocking off his army cap.

The walk to find Kurt's bedroom was interesting, the paler man's back having been knocked into a couple of corners and Blaine panting out embarrassed apologies. The two were giggling like schoolboys once they collapsed onto Kurt's bed, noses knocking and huffs of laughter being blown against each other's lips. It was strange, and awkward, and silly, but they kind of liked it that way.

"You sure bout this?" Blaine had asked, needing to make sure.

Kurt huffed at him, "I was sure even before you left, but because of my own senseless freak out, I kind of nipped that in the butt, didn't I?"

"It was my faul—"

He cut him off with an open-mouthed kiss before murmuring against him. "Sergeant Anderson, I have waited three hundred and sixty five days to get you into my bed. You make me wait a second longer, we're gonna have a problem. Understand, soldier boy?"

Blaine's lips curved into a smile, "Soldier boy?"

"TAKE OFF YOUR PANTS!"

And he did, being sure to add an enthusiastic 'yes, sir!' just to see the gorgeous man below him roll his unique glasz eyes in response. The salute was probably overkill, but it made the two of them smile. What they both experienced that night was nothing short of amazing. Blaine made sure to catalogue every pleasurable noise, memorizing each of Kurt's gasps and whimpers for future reference. He touched every exposed patch of alabaster skin with his fingers and lips, gripping and tasting because the teasing memory of this body has been driving him crazy for the better part of a year. It was hot, and slick, felt fucking phenomenal, but more importantly, it MEANT something.

It had been dark, their only source of light coming from the hall Kurt had left on, but they were still able to make out each other's profiles. Blaine went slow, always checking to make sure Kurt was comfortable, and caressed him in a way that made the paler man pull him in tighter, closer, never wanting to let go. Kurt was not a virgin by any means, but the way his soldier touched him, moved with him, it was the physical embodiment of love. All Kurt could do to ground himself was fist the sheets beneath him, or occasionally the rails of his headboard, and throw his head back as he rode out wave after wave of their pleasurable exchange.

Needless to say, Kurt was sure glad he told Rachel to stay somewhere else for the night. Because one wall wouldn't have been enough to drown out the lovers' combined sounds of gratification. Afterwards, the spark was still there. Blaine didn't want to sneak out of the apartment like he had grown accustomed to doing so many times before, having never seen the point of starting something long term when he was prone to trips overseas for years at a time. But with Kurt, with Kurt he wanted. He wanted very much.

The two slept soundly the rest of the night, waking up with the sun only for there to be a repeat performance in the hours before Rachel was due back at the apartment. Blaine had never taken been taken care of like that. He never knew he could be on the receiving end of such caring ministrations. It's everything he never knew he wanted. Kurt is everything he wanted.

Blaine sighed deeply, leaning his head back as he reveled in the feeling of Kurt's long fingers massaging shampoo into his scalp. The confiscation of Rachel's bathtub and bath salts was something her roommate was conveniently not going to divulge. "God, you're amazing. Absolutely amazing."

Kurt giggled, making sure to work the suds into the raven-colored ringlets he adored so much. The soldier in question was seated between his legs, leaning his tanned back against Kurt's pale chest. "I've lost track how many times you've said that tonight."

He hummed, "And I've meant it every time."

Once Kurt was satisfied with his massaging, he grabbed a nearby luffa, lathered it with citrus smelling soap, and proceeded to work the soap over Blaine's hairy chest. "Are you always this charming after a good two rounds of sex?"

"Wouldn't know. You're the first person to stick around long enough for a second round."

Kurt's washings faltered for a moment, picking back up in hopes that his soldier hadn't noticed his stutter. He ventured lower, dipping the luffa into the water before covering Blaine's abdomen in suds. "Well good."

"Good?"

"Yeah." He ventured even lower, washing something that made Blaine squeak at the sudden brazenness. "Because I wouldn't want to share my sergeant with anyone else."

Blaine chuckled brokenly, shaking out the suds in his hair when Kurt kept 'washing' a certain part of him. "Kurt, I think that part of me is clean now."

"Really? Ya sure?" Kurt squeezed, and Blaine squirmed back against him. "Wouldn't want my soldier slacking on his hygiene just because he's little bit distracted by little ol' me."

Sergeant Anderson shook his head, eyeing the coy looking man behind him. "Ya know, for someone who wasn't too keen on me being an army guy, you sure are making a reference to it an awful lot."

"Maybe I've had time to adjust." He shrugged, lifting his hands out of the water to wash Blaine's shoulders and biceps. "And maybe the idea of being with a soldier has become something of a kink for me."

"Has it now?"

"Hmm…" Kurt said, furrowing his brows and putting aside his luffa to trace a particular scar he discovered below Blaine's collarbone. "Blaine, what's this?"

Blaine shivered when Kurt traced his bullet wound, reaching a hand up to still his valid explorations. "Uh…I got shot. It was my first tour."

"Where?"

"Does it matter?"

Kurt shook his head, "No, not if you say it doesn't." Blaine didn't delve any further into the story. The paler boy didn't push, just held onto the hand Blaine had placed over his. His soft fingers brushed over curious slices on the soldier's fingers, fresher scars littering his hand. "What about these?"

The sergeant flinched, nearly jerking his hand out of Kurt's grasp. "Shrapnel cutting into my palms. Could have been worse, ya know?"

"…not really, no."

Blaine scooted forward a bit, leaning down slightly to wash the shampoo from his hair. He ran his fingers through his freshly washed locks; all the while the soldier could practically feel the man wilt behind him. "If it's all right with you, I'd rather not talk about my time away. These stories…they're not exactly light dinner conversation."

"Oh, no, I get it." Kurt inched forward hesitantly, taking his time to wrap his arms around Blaine's body, hooking his chin over the other's shoulder to gently nuzzle against his cheek. "But just so you know, you can talk to me about anything. I meant what I showed you at the airport. I love you, Blaine Anderson. And I realize that comes with the added bonus of loving a soldier, a sergeant no less, but I don't want you to worry. I'm not going anywhere."

Blaine closed his eyes, letting the feeling of Kurt's secure arms wash over him. "I love you too, Kurt Hummel. And I'm gonna hold you to that, but first, will you…erm…would you do me the honor of being exclusive, to me, just me, as my…um boyfriend?"

Kurt kissed the side of the tanned man's cheek. "It's about damn time!"

This time, Kurt did remember opening his eyes. The white lights hurt, and there was something stuck in his throat making him choke. He tried to cough, spit the thing in his mouth out. The man shook his head and jerked his body, screaming behind the plastic thing until he felt hands on him. It took a few minutes, people telling him to calm down as they held him still and the thing was removed from his throat. "All right, there you go. It's out."

He wheezed and coughed, the corners of his eyes tearing up at how rough his and dry his mouth was. The pale man was vaguely aware of a straw being pushed to his lips, but he just turned his head away, refusing it. "Kurt, buddy. Come on, the water will make ya feel better."

Kurt turned his glassy blue eyes towards him, Burt halted by his intense gaze. He felt his body literally shaking, the memory of his dream, or limbo, or whatever hell that was still burning within him. The young man didn't acknowledge when his other visitors came in the room, just stared down his father. Without the aid of liquid, all he could do was mouth 'Blaine.'

Burt didn't know what to say, other than, "What about Blaine?"

"STOP LYING TO ME!" His unused voice broke out.

It was grating to hear, to everyone in the room. They winced at the harsh sound. Burt let his shoulders sag, "Kurt, you already know—"

"No! NO!" He shouted, not caring how he looked in front of everyone as tears tracked down his fair face. "I'm not gonna believe it, not until you tell me."

"Bud—"

"Dad…" Kurt chocked out, sniffling terribly when it sounded like his dad wasn't going to sugar coat it. "Daddy please, I need to know." He whispered.

Burt never wanted to be the one to deliver such devastating news to his son, especially not the second he woke up from surgery. It was hard enough when everyone had to keep repeating it during the days Kurt kept forgetting, but Burt knew it was different this time. This time, there was no forgetting. "He's gone, son. Blaine died a couple months ago. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry."

Nothing.

Not a sound.

Kurt just kept staring at his father, watching as the mechanic's eyes grew sad, grief and genuine distraught in his features. He wasn't lying. This was the truth. Blaine was gone. His husband was dead. The shocked man could hear sniffles and muffled cries. The scene of his family and Rachel's mourning for his fallen soldier could be heard happening to his right. But he couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't feel. He doesn't know how long he remained still, time nearly frozen as his mind finally believed what his father had to say.

He's gone.

Blaine died a couple months ago.

Blaine died.

"…Blaine died." Kurt finally whispered. The room, the hall, the entire hospital floor had suddenly grown silent. He craned his neck back against the pillows, and let the pain flood every part of his senses. No one was immune to it, not when Kurt's scream was so heart wrenchingly agonizing. The very sound hurt your heart…hurt your soul.

Kurt Hummel no longer had a tumor.

But he didn't have a husband either.

A/N: Just to be clear, I've set it up so anyone reading can view Blaine'a presence as Kurt's hallucination or as Blaine's spirit. Both theories work for the story. You choose to believe what you choose to believe. The song was 'Do You Remember?' by Pasek and Paul. I read that it was a rejected song from a Peter Pan prequel musical, I may be wrong.

This is not the end of the story. There are still a few more chapters, and I have a sort of bittersweet ending planned. As of now I don't think there will be any more flashbacks, but just in case a chapter calls for one, are there any specific flashbacks you guys want to see? Leave a review and let me know!