Hi guys! Fisrt of all, I am so sorry for the late update. School came around and I sort of forgot to get writing. This chapter is different from the rest of the story. It's my personal tribute to those who died or lost loved ones in the tragedy of 9/11 ten years ago today (RIP!). I am sincerely sorry for what you have gone through. 3 Because this chapter is so different, I'm not sure about it and would love to hear what you thought. Thanks! Enjoy the chappie!

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or either of the songs Blaine sings in this chapter. (Where Is The Love by The Black Eyed Peas and Superman by Five For Fighting.)

Kurt sighed and stared at the TV, lost in thought and sorrow. On it were the faces of President Obama, New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg and many other faces he didn't recognize gathered together for the 9/11 memorial. All of the faces were tilted downwards, all with closed eyes, silently remembering what was lost. On the edges of the screen, he could see a few people crying tears of both remorse and happiness due to the bittersweet nature of the event. Happy, almost celebratory music was playing loudly above the clamour, but somehow it seemed cold and distant when the pale boy remembered what- or rather, who- it was for.

Kurt shuddered at the memory of the first time he saw the plane hit one of the towers. Involuntarily, his breath hitched in his chest, and he could feel his throat catch before he registered it. Choking back tears, he ignored the screen and thought hard.

Flashback to ten years earlier:

Fast asleep in bed is a 6-year-old Kurt Hummel on the morning of September eleventh. Little noise is within the baby blue walls of his room, the only sound his soft breaths, evenly paced in his slumber. The well-decorated space is about as peaceful as one could imagine, a safe and familiar place for one to be. There could be no greater contrast between that room and the chaos that had just erupted.

Bee beep! Bee beep! Bee bee- Slap! Kurt smacked his alarm and groaned, rolling over in bed. having forgotten he had a day off from school that day, his clock was still set to wake him up at 8:30. With a deep breath inward, he sat up straight, stretching his thin arms skyward and then out to the sides, enjoying the sensation in his muscles that followed. Heaving himself off of his mattress, he lazily shoved on a tiny pair of slippers and bounded down the stairs. The pitter-patter of his stride could be heard all throughout the house. Luckily, his dad was already out at work and his mother was downstairs on the exercise bike watching television. Realizing this, he leapt into the kitchen for a bowl of cereal.

About ten minutes later, just as Kurt was gulping down the last of his orange juice, his mother walked into the kitchen looking distraught. Her beautiful face was far paler than it should've been and her defined features were smothered over with concern. She was shaking noticeably. It didn't take her son long to figure out that something was wrong, horribly, terribly wrong.

"Kurt, honey," She choked out, he voice almost breaking as she spoke. "There's something you need to see." She continued as calmly as she possibly could, gesturing for Kurt to follow her. She tiptoed gracefully down the stairs, and it seemed for a moment as if she was afraid of falling. Stepping around the end of the couch, she flopped onto it and grabbed the remote, pulling Kurt there with her. Her unsteady hand fumbled desperately for the right button. A press of her fingers on it and the television flickered to life.

"...At 8:46 am this very morning a hijacked American passenger plane was crashed into the World Trade Center. Most of those in the initial hit zone were killed on impact, and those above are in mortal danger and may face getting stuck. We are standing by for further update."

The dark-haired woman couldn't take it anymore. She muted the volume on the television, and without hesitation broke down into great heaving sobs. Kurt was just confused. he sat motionless on the couch, debating what to do. He was sad because he knew something bad had just happened and because he thought he was supposed to be, but he was mostly just confused. What was going on? Was he going to get hurt? The man in the funny suit said people were dying, but who was dying? And why? Mommy is crying, but why? Mommy isn't scared of anything. That big tower thingy is on fire but why? He just wanted to know why.

He averted his eyes back to the screen in search of an answer, his face screwed up in concentration. Analyzing the scene, he realized one more thing: his uncle worked in a building that looked like that. Not just a little bit like that, but exactly like that. He grew scared quickly, and his eyes were shining with tears by the time he found his voice again. "Mommy..." he said, cautiously shaking her shoulder. For the first time in what seemed like hours, she lifted her head up from between her knees and looked at him with equally wet eyes. "Doesn't-" He had difficulty bringing himself to say it. "Doesn't Uncle Harris go to work in a place like that?" Kurt finally finished, wincing at the thought.

His mother just nodded and let herself go once again, releasing pent up frustration into the knee of her workout pants. Upon returning his gaze to the screen, his teary eyes widened. "Mommy! Look!" He half shouted, shaking her shoulder almost violently at this point. "Look look look look look look look look look look look look look look look look!"

"What now?" She questioned, removing her face from her knee at just the right moment to see the second plane crash into the World Trade Center. More and more billows of smoke were pouring from that area on building, and the light of various fires were scattered all around it. Kurt was terrified now by the look on his mom's face alone."NO!" She screamed at the man on the television who had replaced the footage to comment on it. "NO!" She repeated, more streams coming from her eyes.

Kurt curled up into a fetal position, rolled off of the couch and started crying uncontrollably, his near-white skin becoming red with salty tears, his once-sparkling blue eyes rapidly becoming red, his limbs flailing and kicking and hitting anything they could find in order to release his emotions. "It's not fair!" He wailed between sobs. "Why did this happen, Mommy? Why?" He screamed, staring at his mother as best he could for an explanation. From up on the couch, his mother had regained a bit of composure. She sniffled and looked down at him with a heartbreakingly sad smile. "I don't know."

At that, she crawled to the other end of the couch and picked Kurt up off of the floor. Kurt clung to her wordlessly, crying silently and wishing the world didn't have to be so awful sometimes.

End flashback.

Kurt. Hello? Kurt, are you okay? It's Blaine. Kurt?

Whoa! yeah, hi Blaine.

Are you okay? I've been sending you thoughts for the past ten minutes. What's going on?

Don't you remember what day today is?

The tenth year since 9/11 hit back in 2001, I know. I was just watching the ceremony on TV. Did you know they named every single person who died?

They did?

Yeah, it was the first time they've done that in a really long time. It took a few hours to do all of them. Did you lose anyone?

Yes, my Uncle Harris. He was right in the impact zone when it happened.

Oh my god! I'm so sorry, Kurt.

It's alright. It still bothers me sometimes, but for the most part I've come to terms with it. At least he didn't suffer. Can you come over, though? I just need someone to hug me and sing beautifully.

I'll be right over.

As far as keeping promises go, Blaine was very good at it, for not ten minutes later Kurt's doorbell rang. And there was Blaine, his loose curls messy with rainwater but a smile on his face nonetheless.

Told you.

Oh, shut up and come inside! You're soaked, you must be freezing.

Nope! YOUR LOVE WILL FOREVER KEEP ME WARM!

His curly haired lover dramatically held a hand to his heart and lunged forward. Even while stumbling backwards, Kurt couldn't help but roll his eyes. Blaine was more of a drama queen than he was sometimes.

Clichés? Really, Blaine?

MY HEART IS ABLAZE WITH PASSION!

Smack! For the millionth time since he and Blaine had first "gotten their dolphin kisses on", as Brittany liked to call it, his hand was on his forehead in an ever-so familiar face-palm. Blaine smirked. Truthfully, his only reason to rile up Kurt like that was because he was so adorable that way. Settling for a roll of his eyes and pressing a kiss to the shorter boy's cheek, Kurt pulled Blaine down the stairs to the couch. In one swift movement he had both grabbed the remote and pulled Blaine onto the couch with him- in a way strikingly similar to his mother had done to him that day ten years ago. His finger ghosted over the buttons gently, trying to locate the right one. When they did, Kurt dropped the remote and pointed simply to the screen.

Blaine took a sharp intake of breath upon seeing the screen. Everyone had their heads down as the president spoke, and the names of the unfortunate people who died in 9/11 were sliding from left to right across the bottom of the screen. The worst part was that they just kept on coming and coming and coming. Blaine knew how many lives were lost that day (specifically 2,985) but something about seeing all their names made the whole thing seem more real. For every name that popped up, he could imagine a face, a real person with a family who loved them, a person who had hopes and dreams for the rest of their life, a person who died too soon.

Even worse than that, though, was multiple people with the same last names were on the screen, because that could only mean one thing: a family. The death of one family would be awful enough, but Blaine noticed one every couple minutes. he stopped staring at the screen and averted his eyes to Kurt. He could see droplets trailing down the countertenor's face.

You're crying.

YOU'RE crying.

It didn't take any more than that for Blaine to bum-scoot his way to the middle of the sofa and wrap a muscular arm around Kurt, who wasted no time snuggling into Blaine's chest.

I just wish it didn't have to happen that way, you know?

Blaine gave him a sad little half-smile.

Yeah, I do.

All of a sudden, a song made its way into Blaine's head, a familiar one that he could sing in this situation, He smiled softly and began to sing quietly to Kurt, tracing small circles on his back with his fingers.

"People killing, people dying, children hurt and hear them crying," Blaine sang slowly, not wanting to startle Kurt. "Can you practice what you preach, and would you turn the other cheek," Kurt joined in at this point. "Father, father, father help us, send some guidance from above, 'cause people got me got me got me questioning, where is the love?"

Kurt glanced up at Blaine questioningly, so innocent and sweet, like a child asking their mom or dad something. "Where IS the love?" Kurt said pointedly, sighing into Blaine.

Can I sing another song now? I have the perfect one in mind. I dedicate it to all the firefighters and emergency workers and first responders in general who tried to save people when 9/11 hit.
All the heroes.

Please do.

Blaine started not a moment too soon, only after taking a second to make sure he remembered the lyrics.

"I can't stand to fly, I'm not that naive, I'm just out to find the better part of me. I'm more than a bird, I'm more than a plane, I'm more than some pretty face beside a train and it's not easy to be me."

He took a breath inward and continued.

" Wish that I could cry, fall upon my knees, find a way to lie, about a home I'll never see. It may sound absurd, but don't be naive, even heroes have the right to bleed. I may be disturbed, but won't you concede, even heroes have the right to dream, it's not easy to be me."

Blaine smiled at the realization that there are real-life heroes. He just wished it didn't take a tragedy to find them.

" Up, up and away away from me, it's all right, you can all sleep sound tonight. I'm not crazy...or anything. I can't stand to fly, I'm not that naive, men weren't meant to ride with clouds between their knees. I'm only a man in a silly red sheet, digging for kryptonite on this one way street. Only a man in a funny red sheet, looking for special things inside of me inside of me ... inside of me... yeah, inside of me... inside of me... I'm only a man in a funny red sheet, I'm only a man looking for my dream, I'm only a man in a funny red sheet. It's not easy ... ooo ooooo ooooo
It's not easy to be me..."

By the time Blaine finished, Kurt was already fast asleep, a smile remaining evident on his lips.

Please, I beg of you, review! Sorry for the sloppy ending, my mom is nagging me to get off the computer. See you all next chapter, and don't forget to favorite and subscribe and review!

RIP the victims who died that fateful day. 3