Fanfic: Where There Is Moonlight and Music (Klaine, PG: Part 2 of 2 i.e. COMPLETE)
Title: Where There is Moonlight and Music
Rating: PG
Pairing: Klaine
Word Count: 5,978 (~11,000 total)
Betas: agent_girlsname and perry_avenue
Summary: British Air Force Lieutenant Blaine Anderson is injured in the London Blitz, leaving him temporarily blinded and uncertain about his future.
Read Part 1 first!
---
In the weeks that followed Dr. Humphrey’s departure, Blaine felt more frustrated than ever by his situation. His physical therapy and recovery continued well, but it could not continue fast enough for him. He wanted to be useful again. He wanted to be part of the war effort again. He wanted to live again.
News of his impatience and renewed fervor to fight reached his father, who finally visited him, just a couple of days before Blaine’s blindfolding bandages were due to be removed.
“I hear your mood has changed, these past few weeks,” his father said that day.
“I am impatient to leave this place, father,” Blaine said. “I am impatient to contribute to the war effort - for this war needs all the soldiers we and our allies can muster.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Mr. Anderson replied. “I had feared from earlier reports that you might refuse to fulfill your duties as a good British man.”
Blaine thought his father emphasized the word ‘man’ but couldn’t be sure.
“I have the doctors and nurses here to thank,” Blaine said. “They have seen to it that I will be in a state to contribute, even if it is not as a pilot.”
“Yes I hear you and a young American doctor built up quite a rapport,” Mr. Anderson said. “I assume you are aware that said doctor has returned to his duties in the US Air Force.”
“Yes, of course, Father,” Blaine said, trying to keep the irritation from his voice. “Dr. Humphrey was my primary doctor, but left shortly after the Pearl Harbor attack. I believe his brother may have been killed in that barbaric affront on the United States.”
“Now, now, Blaine,” his father warned, “such emotive language will not help the war effort. We must keep cool heads. Dr. Hu- Dr. Humphrey was just one of many doctors, and the attack on the United States was an act of war, just like every other act of war against our and other peoples in this time.”
“Yes, Father,” Blaine would have rolled his eyes if he could. “How is my brother?”
“He is at sea,” Mr. Anderson replied. “I have not inquired further, and nor should you. Now, have you thought how you may be deployed following your release?”
Actually, Blaine had thought about this question a great deal. He already knew he would not fly again. He had come to terms with that, with Kurt’s - Dr. Humphrey’s, he scolded himself - assistance.
“I have, Father,” Blaine said. “I thought perhaps as I should probably be confined to a non-active role, that I might work in support of our alliances through communications - I have always written well and am an effective communicator.”
“We have women for basic communications functions, Blaine,” Mr. Anderson seemed impatient, “but I suppose you meant as an advisor, which is an officer class position. You are not an officer.”
“I know, Father, I just thought…”
“You thought that I would help?”
“I thought you would be proud of my enthusiasm to remain within the Air Force, to continue fighting in the best way I can, as a man of the British Armed Forces.”
Blaine held his breath. He could almost hear his father thinking.
“I will inquire with some of my colleagues,” Mr. Anderson said finally. “I am proud of your fervour, Blaine. But you must be sure to serve the greater war effort, and not any effort of your own.”
“Of course, Father,” Blaine breathed, allowing his spirits to lift. “I will not let you down.”
Four days later, Blaine sat fully upright as the ageing Scottish doctor who had replaced Dr. Humphrey started removing his bandages for the last time. When instructed he opened his eyes for the first time in over six months.
He had expected this moment to be an awakening of sorts, to have light and life return to him in one moment of startling clarity. Instead, he shied away from the light in the room, dim as it was, not feeling much of the re-connection he had expected and desired. He took in his surroundings. The beds around him held sleeping or unconscious officers not as lucky as he, encased in drab, greying white and green hospital linens. The floor was equally drab and slightly more green, but looked clean. There was a small window behind him but it was grimy with dust and didn’t let much light through. To his unaccustomed eyes, however, it was affronting.
Finally, Blaine’s eyes settled on the figure in front of him, an elderly man with many wrinkles on his face, showing his experience and exhaustion all at once. It wasn’t this face Blaine had been looking forward to seeing while in his forced blindness. He couldn’t help but be disappointed.
The doctor spoke in a thick brogue and Blaine had to concentrate to understand his instructions. There could be some persistent eye-watering and he may require sunglasses to assist his eyes in adjusting for a while, but otherwise they were healthy. Provided everything went well and he continued his physical therapy, he would have near-full movement of his legs within a month. He would be able to return to the outside world within six weeks.
Blaine was glad to have news he would be able to leave, but wasn’t so sure he would feel any less isolated once out of the hospital.
More likely, he thought he would be blinded by the world around him all over again. It was exciting and frightening to have his sight back, but he still felt disconnected. It was now too bright, and also somehow foreign. He had been absent from the world so long he wasn’t sure how to view it any more.
He wished Kurt was there.
---
The doctor proved right about the sunglasses. His father had most definitely not approved when he had first seem them - “You look too American” - but that had only served to make Blaine appreciate them more.
He returned to service, working in the Allied liaison office out of London, and dedicated himself to his task. If he seemed to express more of an interest in their American allies over others, his superiors and colleagues did not seem to notice. More importantly, his father didn’t seem to notice.
Still, he took particular care to ensure visiting American officers were impressed by his work, and was especially attentive to their requirements. He paid particular attention to their documentation and requests, and slowly became an asset to the functioning relationship between the two allies. He also, he hoped, forged useful contacts for the post-war era.
The war dragged on, however, and Blaine started to despair it would never end. The losses continued despite the combined efforts of the allies, and his brother became one of the many when the HMS Achates sank on 31 December 1942. That loss took a particular toll on his father, who was forced to take leave from his position. Blaine also felt the blow deeply, but it made him feel more connected to those soldiers and officers around him, although strangely less connected to his homeland. There was less reason to remain following the war. He worked even harder in his role, but continued to feel the same sense of isolation he had felt in the hospital, even with his sight restored.
His superiors noticed and, thinking his grief worsened by inaction, suggested he return to the field in some capacity. Blaine was hesitant, but agreed in the spring of 1944 when an opportunity came up to work as liaison to what was being called the “United Nations”, an international organisation to replace the “League of Nations” that had failed to prevent world war.
Almost a year later, Blaine was in the United States in the late summer of 1945 when the war finally ended. By the end of October 1945, he had secured himself a civilian position in the newly formed United Nations, telegraphed Command with his resignation from the Air Force, and also telegraphed his father to inform him that he would not be returning to Britain. He refused to look backwards or be shackled by the life he had known prior to the war.
In securing his position at the United Nations, he also negotiated a period of leave such that he would commence in his new role on 2 January 1946.
Until then, it was time to explore a new world. It was time to begin his search in earnest.
---
“Humphrey, you say?” The small woman with horn-rimmed glasses asked.
“Yes, Kurt Humphrey, doctor with the US Air Force, stationed in Pearl Harbor up until mid-1941 and then a volunteer on loan to the British Air Force in the United Kingdom until after the attack.”
“I’m sorry, but there’s no record of a Humphrey in the Air Force from this district. Perhaps you could try in the next county?”
Blaine repeated this exchange in what seemed like every county, every town and every city in the United States.
When the US Air Force centralized records had proved inadequate, he had gone to Pearl Harbor. People there had been sympathetic, but they had misunderstood. They thought he was searching for someone who had been there during the attack (and in a way he was too, for if he found Kurt’s brother Finn or at least information about him then that would help), but even then the only ‘Humphrey’ on the record was a Peter Humphrey, 42 years old. He’d met Peter Humphrey but the lead was a dead end.
He had then started to journey across the mainland United States. He thought the doctor had mentioned being from ‘the Midwest’ but couldn’t recall the name of a town. All he could do, was travel east, and hope for some luck. In every town he stepped into the records office or city chambers or armed forces station to inquire about Dr. Kurt Humphrey. Every time he received the same response as he had from the woman with the horn-rimmed glasses.
No record.
He tried not to be discouraged. He didn’t know where Kurt had enlisted but each stop further east he became a bit more hopeful despite himself that even if Kurt had not enlisted, he would be known to the person - even though it was unlikely given the great distance between most American towns, and even though he couldn’t even offer a description of him.
---
He arrived by train into Columbus from Indianapolis, early one crisp December evening of 1945. The main businesses in town were just beginning to close up, and Blaine hurried to find the city chambers or war office before they closed; rather than be discouraged about how far east he had come with no luck, he was excited that he must be getting closer.
“Humphrey, you say? This time it was a man, but he had horn-rimmed glasses like most of the people who checked records.
““Yes, Kurt Humphrey, doctor with the US Air Force, stationed in Pearl Harbor up until mid-1941 and then a volunteer on loan to the British Air Force in the United Kingdom until after the attack. His brother, Finn, was also with the Air Force in Pearl Harbor, but wasn’t so lucky.”
There was a pause, or did Blaine imagine it? Ultimately, though, the man’s response was the same: “I’m sorry, Mr. Anderson, but there’s no record of a Humphrey in the Air Force from this district. Perhaps you could try in the next county.”
Blaine felt more deflated than usual. He had come so far, what if he never found him?
“That’s ok,” he said softly, leaning against the counter for support. “Hopefully I’ll have more luck there tomorrow. Maybe I’ll try Westerville, or head north-west to Lima.”
The man’s face suddenly snapped up.
“Lima?”
“Yes,” Blaine stopped breathing.
“And his name is Kurt, and he has a brother, Finn?”
“Y- yes?” Blaine managed to say, still feeling like the air had been taken out of his lungs. He held his poise there just waiting, as the main rifled through some papers.
“Could you be referring to Kurt Hummel and his brother Finn Hudson?” the man pulled out a piece of paper with a list and thumbed down until he found something. He then turned to one of the small drawers behind him and started rummaging in it.
Blaine was gob-smacked. Had he had Kurt’s name wrong all this time? But he was sure he had said Humphrey? That’s how he had introduced… suddenly Blaine realized that Kurt had been very careful not to introduce himself as Dr. Humphrey. In fact, Blaine’s whirring thoughts took him back to a very distinct moment. A moment that had been punctuated by pain and confusion, but a moment that had also been the first time he had heard Kurt’s voice. When the nurse had seemingly corrected him as he was saying his name.
“I… I guess I could,” Blaine said, licking his lips as a sense of excitement started to well in him. “I knew him in England in the earlier stages of the war, and ‘Hummel’ is a rather German name, isn’t it? Perhaps he adopted a pseudonym to avoid any unpleasantness?”
“Hmpf, sounds like something you stuck-up Brits would require,” the man responded. “Ah HA! Here we are, yes Kurt Hummel.” He pulled out a card with a grainy photo and some basic information. “Is that him?”
“Y- yes,” Blaine squeaked, his eyes blinking rapidly. He had never seen Kurt before, but he wanted it to be him so badly. It must be him. He tried to capture and record the image in the small browning photograph. “Oh my thank you so much sir! You cannot know how grateful I am!”
“Hmmm,” the man was reading the file, “yes, Kurt Hummel enlisted with his step-brother and next of Kin, Finn Hudson. As far as I can tell, Dr. Hummel is still with the Air Force, but as you will know operational whereabouts would not be expected to be on this file. You say Finn Hudson passed away in the Pearl Harbor attack?” The record keeper looked up at Blaine.
“Um, well I assumed so, but since I’ve been using the wrong name maybe not?”
The man reached back into the drawer and pulled out a second card. “Ah indeed not, records here say that Hudson was awarded an honorable discharge in 1943, last known address is in Lima. Would you like me to give it to you?”
Blaine didn’t think he could speak and just nodded. He lifted his hand to take the address written on a small note-card and tried to stop it from shaking quite so much as he took the card in his fingers. He nodded and even bowed to the man in front of him, tears coming to his eyes. Finally he managed to say thank you, and then just kept saying it in one long stream. The man started to look suspicious and Blaine turned to leave as fast as he could, wondering how quickly he could get to Lima the next day.
---
He was in Lima just after lunchtime, after paying decidedly too much for the fare, as only first class seats had remained. He quickly left the station and walked towards the main shops, where he was assured he would find Hummel’s Tires and Lube.
He thought his pace would quicken as he approached, but instead it got slower and slower. What if Kurt was there? What if he didn’t even know who Blaine was? What if he did but didn’t care to see him again - only considered him one of many patients in a long war? Blaine had no idea what Kurt had seen or done once the American allies had entered the war effort. He’d tried to look out for him but since he’d had the wrong surname all along it was little wonder he had not been successful. He wished he’d known the correct name from the start. It would have been so much easier, one way or the other.
Blaine realized he had stopped and was just a couple of feet from the garage entrance. A figure appeared, apparently looking for someone on the street, and looked at him, confused.
“You ok there mister?” the young man had a stronger American accent than Kurt had, and looked to be ethnic of some type. Blaine didn’t think this was Finn.
“I… I am looking for Finn Hudson, or Kurt Hummel,” Blaine nearly faltered saying Kurt’s name.
“Ah the boss is away,” the man, practically still a boy, said.
“Oh, I see,” Blaine wasn’t sure which person the man was referring to. “Do you know when he will return?”
“Who are you talking to Puck?” A rougher, older voice rang out from inside the garage, and was soon followed by a bulky greasy looking man.
“This English fella is looking for Finn,” Puck responded. “I said he was away.”
“Why you lookin’ for Finn?” the greasy man said.
“I…” Blaine wasn’t sure why but he didn’t feel at ease with this man. “I was with the British Air Force and trained with him before you Americans joined the war. I only just discovered he survived the horrible attacks at Pearl Harbor. I had thought him dead, you see, but now that I have discovered otherwise and since I am in the USA, I thought I would look him up. We shared quite a lot in those training days.”
The greasy man eyed Blaine warily. “Did you boys train with the Brits before the attack?” he asked Puck, but Puck didn’t’ appear to be listening anymore; his attention was more focused across the street where a young waitress was setting the tables in the window of a diner. “What? Oh yeah, sure,” he replied vaguely, and Blaine tried not to let out a sigh of relief.
“Um, so he is away then?” Blaine prodded tentatively. “May I inquire as to where? Or for how long?”
“Lord knows how long,” the greasy man grumbled. “He ups and leaves me in charge of this dump and of managing Casanova here,” he gestured towards Puck, “all because that fairy brother of his has got into some trouble in New York. Something about a dishonorable discharge - as if people like him should have been let into the Air Force anyway!”
“Oh, so he’s in New York?” Blaine concentrated on the pertinent information at hand and ignored the rest, although his teeth started clenching in his jaw.
“Yeah I figure, probably staying with his old sweetheart and her husband since they’re still on friendly terms. Here, I’ll find their address for you. It’s really swell that you’ve come this way and if you two were friends before the war then he would be unhappy to miss your visit.”
Blaine saw Puck suddenly look surprised at the reference to being friends with Finn and prayed silently that he wouldn’t say anything.
“Thank you very much, Mr. … ?”
“Not a problem, now if you’ll excuse me these cars ain’t gonna fix themselves. PUCK! Stop looking like a love-sick pansy and help me!”
Blaine never did get the man’s name, but he wasn’t sure he minded. He had to get to New York.
---
The train trip to Penn Station in New York City was long, taking much of the next day and early evening. Blaine spent most of the trip oscillating from excitement to fear, and trying to sleep in between. The world around him had seemed so harsh ever since leaving that hospital in Britain, so cacophonous after a sightless and quiet existence in the hospital. It had been too much - replacing isolation with complete sensory overload. The end result was that where he was, sitting on a train rumbling through the American landscape, he felt more isolated than ever. But the long silver threads of the train tracks were pulling him out of his isolation, he could feel it.
Once in New York City, he found his way to the address on the piece of paper. There, he stood outside for some time. What if Kurt was in there? Was it too late to knock on the door? It was nearing 8pm, surely that was too late for a stranger to be knocking on the door? What if this person didn’t want to divulge Kurt’s whereabouts? What if the Kurt in the picture wasn’t the person he was looking for at all?
Blaine shook himself out of his doubt and took a deep breath. He had not come this far to wait any longer. He had not come this far to stop at the key moment. However it was to play out, it would play out, and he was going to play it now.
The door opened quite quickly after he knocked.
“Oh, oh I’m sorry I was expecting someone else… ah can I help you?” A petite woman had answered the door quite enthusiastically, only to retreat in behind the door quite quickly, guarding the interior carefully.
“I do apologize for disturbing you so late,” Blaine removed his hat as he spoke. “I was provided this address by a colleague of Mr. Finn Hudson in Lima, Ohio, who said I might find him here? I have come a long way, you see.”
“Oh, oh I’m so sorry sir but Mr. Hudson left to catch the train this afternoon. You have only missed him by a couple of hours.”
Blaine smiled. “Ah, I fear he must have boarded the same train from which I alighted only a short while ago.”
Blaine didn’t quite know what else to say, whether he should ask after Kurt or not. He didn’t know if this person knew Kurt at all. He shifted a bit from foot to foot.
“Did you travel all the way from Lima, Mr. ...?”
“Anderson,” Blaine supplied. “Former Lieutenant Blaine Anderson.” He didn’t know why he’d added his rank, perhaps to make the woman feel more at ease talking to a stranger in the dark, but the impact of his words seemed great judging by her reaction. She gasped a little and raised a hand to her mouth, her eyes going wide. Quickly, however, she composed herself, social graces returning as she stepped back and opened the door further.
“I am Rachel St James, Lieutenant Anderson, and a close friend of Mr. Hudson’s brother. Would I be correct in assuming you are in fact here in search of Dr. Hummel, and not Mr. Hudson?”
Blaine could only nod, fixed on the spot. The very fact that Mrs. St James seemed to know him caused his spirits to lift significantly, but he felt if he said or did anything that the bubble might burst, revealing the dream for some sort of delusion.
“Please, Lieutenant, come in for a moment.”
Blaine followed her into the house and sat down in the living room as she did. “Is he, is he here?” He couldn’t keep the question inside any longer.
“No,” Mrs. St James smiled. “I am glad that you have come, though, because it gives me an opportunity to size you up. You are quite handsome, aren’t you? I can’t believe Kurt didn’t mention those soft, hazel eyes of yours.”
Blaine tried to ignore the inference that Kurt may have commented on his physical appearance. He hoped Kurt would think of him that way, but didn’t want to count on it. It seemed too close to his fantasy, too perfect that Kurt’s desires would match his own and that he would look upon Blaine as Blaine hoped to look upon him.
“Well Dr. Hummel has never seen my eyes,” he replied, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible, though probably failing to disguise his excitement. “I was severely injured in the Blitz and my head was covered in bandages the whole time he cared for me.”
“So you have never set eyes upon him?”
“No Ma’am,” Blaine shook his head. “Those were difficult months, but made infinitely more bearable by the conversation, care and patience he displayed as my primary physician. We shared some interests and he was kind enough to converse with me, to help the time pass and stymie the isolation that I felt. I was so very sad when he had to leave following the attack on Pearl Harbor, for many reasons. In fact, until only a couple of days ago I had thought his brother killed in the attack.”
“We all did for some months,” Mrs. St James cast her eyes down, “but Kurt insisted on visiting every hospital in the vicinity of Pearl Harbor - even the local ones - and he found him. He was unconscious and almost unrecognizable, but it was him. By then, we were in the war and the Japanese advance in the Pacific was particularly frightening. Kurt was sent to various places in the Pacific Arena. He only returned a little while ago,” she paused, and looked at Blaine with calculating eyes. “The first thing he did when he got back was to look for you, but you are no longer with the Air Force?”
Blaine shook his head and slumped back into the couch, laughing at the irony. “The first thing I did when the war ended was secure a new civilian life here in the United States. In fact, I was planning to leave before the war even ended, in the hope that it would end eventually. Thank God it did.”
“And Kurt?” Mrs. St James’ response was lightning fast, and Blaine realized he was being tested. She knew, and she accepted it.
“Why do you think I chose the United States for my new life?” Blaine cocked an eyebrow. “Most of everyone I know is opting to move to the countryside, or to a Commonwealth country like Canada, or Australia. But I didn’t think I’d find Kurt in any of those places.”
Mrs. St James, nodded, and stood to approach the desk in the corner of the room. “This is the name and address of the hospital where he now works, as a civilian doctor”, she wrote as she spoke. “He is working there tonight - the night-time shift - so you can head over there now or at about 7am tomorrow when he finishes his shift.” She paused to look at Blaine and grinned. “Don’t worry, the coffee at the diner across the road isn’t too bad.”
“He is a civilian doctor now?” Blaine asked, taking the paper in his hand. “I, um, how did… I mean yesterday I heard…”
“I’m sure I know who you talked to if you went to the tire shop,” Mrs. St James interrupted him, “and take no notice. When Kurt advised he wanted to leave the Air Force there were some ruffles and someone tried to make trouble, but that’s all sorted. Finn saw to that and made sure that that person was exposed for who they were.”
“O- okay,” Blaine was confused, but concentrated on the information and priorities at hand. He had the address of where he could find Kurt right at that minute. The realization hit him with a start and he rose to his feet. “I, um, thank you, Mrs. St James, you have been incredibly kind and helpful and I hope to repay you one day, but I must leave now.”
“Of course,” she led him to the front door, “and please, call me Rachel. I have a feeling we shall see each other again, and it would seem odd to maintain such formality.”
Blaine made a fuss of putting his hat back on in an attempt to hide the tears forming in his eyes, and stepped outside. There, he turned and gave a short bow and a wave to Rachel, who smiled and nodded back at him. He was away.
He searched at first for a taxicab to take him to the hospital, but they were scarce, so he started walking with the help of some directions from a policeman. It was a cold night but he was propelled by his emotions, passing block after block in what seemed like no time at all, barely noticing his surroundings.
Almost an hour later, he saw the lights of the hospital, as three ambulances passed him by, all with their sirens blaring. They all stopped in the emergency entrance and Blaine tried to see from his distant vantage point whether any of the staff exiting the building could be Kurt.
He stopped himself and considered his situation for a moment. It was almost 10pm, some accident had obviously befallen some New Yorkers meaning the hospital would be busy, and after a lengthy day and walk he probably looked a mess.
He considered finding a hotel nearby, but before he could get too far some lights across the road from the hospital caught his eye. The diner. He hurried in and ordered some coffee and food. The waitress looked upon him pityingly, probably imagining him as a relative of a sick person in the hospital, and offered him use of the staff bathroom, including the shower. He accepted and before he knew it, before midnight even, he was fed, watered, washed, and in a fresh set of clothes.
He had no more excuses.
Outside, there was much less activity than there had been when he’d first arrived. The arrival lane was empty at the emergency room, and there weren’t any people scurrying about. Blaine walked through the door and navigated to the general admissions area - he did not want to bother the nurses at emergency.
“Yes?” a bored, overweight woman drawled.
“I- I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Blaine said, “but I was hoping I might be able to speak to Dr. Hummel?”
“Who?”
Blaine’s heart dropped. “Dr. Hummel,” he repeated, “Dr. Kurt Hummel.”
“Oh right, yeah, he’s the new guy isn’t he? Pretty boy all the young nurses are tittering about?”
“That will be him, yes,” Blaine smiled with relief, “I believe he is on duty tonight and I wondered whether I might…”
“Are you ill?”
“What? Uh, no.”
“Well then I’m not sure I can help you sir,” the woman responded, and consulted her ledger. “It has been a busy night and the doctors work very hard with their patients.”
“Oh of course,” Blaine ran his hand through his hair, calming the curls that rebelled against the styling wax. “I am willing to wait until he’s on break. I’ve come a long way you see.”
“I can hear that in your accent,” the woman nodded, “but that don’t change the fact that Dr. Hummel is a doctor here and very busy.”
“I quite understand,” Blaine said, deflated. “Perhaps if you don’t mind I might wait anyway?”
“Suit y’self,” she shrugged.
“Thank you,” Blaine patted the counter in front of him and looked around. “I think I’m going to get a coffee from that diner across the street. Would you like one?”
“Uh… sure,” she looked surprised by the offer.
“Ok then I’ll be back in no time. Would you mind telling him, if you see him, that I am here?” Blaine hoped he wasn’t pushing too far.
“I… I’ll see what I can do.”
Blaine went back to the diner and bought two coffees. The nurse seemed even more surprised when he reappeared with coffees but wasn’t obviously more friendly.
“No promises, Mr. …”
“Anderson,” Blaine supplied, “Blaine Anderson.”
With that, he settled himself into a chair at the end of a bank of four, near the window by the entrance door. There was a small table next to the chairs where he placed his satchel and briefcase, and he positioned his coat over him like a blanket. He supposed he should probably just find a hotel, but nothing was taking him away from that hospital at that moment.
He drifted off to sleep, barely noticing as people came in and out of the hospital at infrequent intervals. Occasionally the bright lights of a car would pierce through his eyelids but mostly he kept them shut, listening for a familiar sound or sounds.
When he heard some, he thought he was still sleeping at first. There was murmuring, a tone of surprise, and then a gasp. Blaine smiled a little with his eyes still closed. He was imagining Kurt discovering him, like he had so many times before, and was going to enjoy the fantasy.
A touch on his leg shocked his eyes open.
“Blaine?”
Everything stopped as Blaine’s eyes focused on the face in front of him. He looked older than in the picture, but so much more vibrant. The picture had not done justice to the small flecks of green in his eyes, to the light peppering of freckles on his cheekbones, to the rich mélange of browns in his hair color, made evident by the cool light of dawn filtering through the window.
“Blaine, is it really you?” Kurt’s voice whispered, his hand now clasping at Blaine’s leg as he crouched in front of him. He looked into Blaine’s eyes with wonder. “I thought I would never see you! After I came back from Britain the war was so horrible and I was in such far-flung locations, and then I returned and I called the Air Force in England and they said you weren’t in the Air Force, and then I called your father and he acted like he’d lost both sons in the war, and I didn’t know what was going on but I was just hoping you’d be out there somewhere and that maybe, and oh your eyes are beautiful and healed, and you don’t even need a walking stick? Oh how I wish I’d been able to see these eyes when I had first known you…”
Kurt trailed off and took a couple of deep breaths. All Blaine could do was blink rapidly, shock having overwhelmed him. He wanted to cry, laugh, hug and kiss Kurt, all at once. It was obvious that it hadn’t been in his head, that their connection had been genuine and that his search had been justified.
“Blaine? Blaine won’t you say something?” Kurt’s voice got tighter with emotion, and Blaine felt tears welling as the emotion hit him with equal force. “Oh Blaine you’re crying, please say something.”
“Oh-” Blaine cleared his throat. “Oh Kurt,” he said, smiling through the tears. “Oh there you are,” he moved his hand to place it on top of Kurt’s and squeezed. “I’ve been looking for you forever.”
---
The End.
A/N: Thanks for reading!
Rating: PG
Pairing: Klaine
Word Count: 5,978 (~11,000 total)
Betas: agent_girlsname and perry_avenue
Summary: British Air Force Lieutenant Blaine Anderson is injured in the London Blitz, leaving him temporarily blinded and uncertain about his future.
Read Part 1 first!
---
In the weeks that followed Dr. Humphrey’s departure, Blaine felt more frustrated than ever by his situation. His physical therapy and recovery continued well, but it could not continue fast enough for him. He wanted to be useful again. He wanted to be part of the war effort again. He wanted to live again.
News of his impatience and renewed fervor to fight reached his father, who finally visited him, just a couple of days before Blaine’s blindfolding bandages were due to be removed.
“I hear your mood has changed, these past few weeks,” his father said that day.
“I am impatient to leave this place, father,” Blaine said. “I am impatient to contribute to the war effort - for this war needs all the soldiers we and our allies can muster.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Mr. Anderson replied. “I had feared from earlier reports that you might refuse to fulfill your duties as a good British man.”
Blaine thought his father emphasized the word ‘man’ but couldn’t be sure.
“I have the doctors and nurses here to thank,” Blaine said. “They have seen to it that I will be in a state to contribute, even if it is not as a pilot.”
“Yes I hear you and a young American doctor built up quite a rapport,” Mr. Anderson said. “I assume you are aware that said doctor has returned to his duties in the US Air Force.”
“Yes, of course, Father,” Blaine said, trying to keep the irritation from his voice. “Dr. Humphrey was my primary doctor, but left shortly after the Pearl Harbor attack. I believe his brother may have been killed in that barbaric affront on the United States.”
“Now, now, Blaine,” his father warned, “such emotive language will not help the war effort. We must keep cool heads. Dr. Hu- Dr. Humphrey was just one of many doctors, and the attack on the United States was an act of war, just like every other act of war against our and other peoples in this time.”
“Yes, Father,” Blaine would have rolled his eyes if he could. “How is my brother?”
“He is at sea,” Mr. Anderson replied. “I have not inquired further, and nor should you. Now, have you thought how you may be deployed following your release?”
Actually, Blaine had thought about this question a great deal. He already knew he would not fly again. He had come to terms with that, with Kurt’s - Dr. Humphrey’s, he scolded himself - assistance.
“I have, Father,” Blaine said. “I thought perhaps as I should probably be confined to a non-active role, that I might work in support of our alliances through communications - I have always written well and am an effective communicator.”
“We have women for basic communications functions, Blaine,” Mr. Anderson seemed impatient, “but I suppose you meant as an advisor, which is an officer class position. You are not an officer.”
“I know, Father, I just thought…”
“You thought that I would help?”
“I thought you would be proud of my enthusiasm to remain within the Air Force, to continue fighting in the best way I can, as a man of the British Armed Forces.”
Blaine held his breath. He could almost hear his father thinking.
“I will inquire with some of my colleagues,” Mr. Anderson said finally. “I am proud of your fervour, Blaine. But you must be sure to serve the greater war effort, and not any effort of your own.”
“Of course, Father,” Blaine breathed, allowing his spirits to lift. “I will not let you down.”
Four days later, Blaine sat fully upright as the ageing Scottish doctor who had replaced Dr. Humphrey started removing his bandages for the last time. When instructed he opened his eyes for the first time in over six months.
He had expected this moment to be an awakening of sorts, to have light and life return to him in one moment of startling clarity. Instead, he shied away from the light in the room, dim as it was, not feeling much of the re-connection he had expected and desired. He took in his surroundings. The beds around him held sleeping or unconscious officers not as lucky as he, encased in drab, greying white and green hospital linens. The floor was equally drab and slightly more green, but looked clean. There was a small window behind him but it was grimy with dust and didn’t let much light through. To his unaccustomed eyes, however, it was affronting.
Finally, Blaine’s eyes settled on the figure in front of him, an elderly man with many wrinkles on his face, showing his experience and exhaustion all at once. It wasn’t this face Blaine had been looking forward to seeing while in his forced blindness. He couldn’t help but be disappointed.
The doctor spoke in a thick brogue and Blaine had to concentrate to understand his instructions. There could be some persistent eye-watering and he may require sunglasses to assist his eyes in adjusting for a while, but otherwise they were healthy. Provided everything went well and he continued his physical therapy, he would have near-full movement of his legs within a month. He would be able to return to the outside world within six weeks.
Blaine was glad to have news he would be able to leave, but wasn’t so sure he would feel any less isolated once out of the hospital.
More likely, he thought he would be blinded by the world around him all over again. It was exciting and frightening to have his sight back, but he still felt disconnected. It was now too bright, and also somehow foreign. He had been absent from the world so long he wasn’t sure how to view it any more.
He wished Kurt was there.
---
The doctor proved right about the sunglasses. His father had most definitely not approved when he had first seem them - “You look too American” - but that had only served to make Blaine appreciate them more.
He returned to service, working in the Allied liaison office out of London, and dedicated himself to his task. If he seemed to express more of an interest in their American allies over others, his superiors and colleagues did not seem to notice. More importantly, his father didn’t seem to notice.
Still, he took particular care to ensure visiting American officers were impressed by his work, and was especially attentive to their requirements. He paid particular attention to their documentation and requests, and slowly became an asset to the functioning relationship between the two allies. He also, he hoped, forged useful contacts for the post-war era.
The war dragged on, however, and Blaine started to despair it would never end. The losses continued despite the combined efforts of the allies, and his brother became one of the many when the HMS Achates sank on 31 December 1942. That loss took a particular toll on his father, who was forced to take leave from his position. Blaine also felt the blow deeply, but it made him feel more connected to those soldiers and officers around him, although strangely less connected to his homeland. There was less reason to remain following the war. He worked even harder in his role, but continued to feel the same sense of isolation he had felt in the hospital, even with his sight restored.
His superiors noticed and, thinking his grief worsened by inaction, suggested he return to the field in some capacity. Blaine was hesitant, but agreed in the spring of 1944 when an opportunity came up to work as liaison to what was being called the “United Nations”, an international organisation to replace the “League of Nations” that had failed to prevent world war.
Almost a year later, Blaine was in the United States in the late summer of 1945 when the war finally ended. By the end of October 1945, he had secured himself a civilian position in the newly formed United Nations, telegraphed Command with his resignation from the Air Force, and also telegraphed his father to inform him that he would not be returning to Britain. He refused to look backwards or be shackled by the life he had known prior to the war.
In securing his position at the United Nations, he also negotiated a period of leave such that he would commence in his new role on 2 January 1946.
Until then, it was time to explore a new world. It was time to begin his search in earnest.
---
“Humphrey, you say?” The small woman with horn-rimmed glasses asked.
“Yes, Kurt Humphrey, doctor with the US Air Force, stationed in Pearl Harbor up until mid-1941 and then a volunteer on loan to the British Air Force in the United Kingdom until after the attack.”
“I’m sorry, but there’s no record of a Humphrey in the Air Force from this district. Perhaps you could try in the next county?”
Blaine repeated this exchange in what seemed like every county, every town and every city in the United States.
When the US Air Force centralized records had proved inadequate, he had gone to Pearl Harbor. People there had been sympathetic, but they had misunderstood. They thought he was searching for someone who had been there during the attack (and in a way he was too, for if he found Kurt’s brother Finn or at least information about him then that would help), but even then the only ‘Humphrey’ on the record was a Peter Humphrey, 42 years old. He’d met Peter Humphrey but the lead was a dead end.
He had then started to journey across the mainland United States. He thought the doctor had mentioned being from ‘the Midwest’ but couldn’t recall the name of a town. All he could do, was travel east, and hope for some luck. In every town he stepped into the records office or city chambers or armed forces station to inquire about Dr. Kurt Humphrey. Every time he received the same response as he had from the woman with the horn-rimmed glasses.
No record.
He tried not to be discouraged. He didn’t know where Kurt had enlisted but each stop further east he became a bit more hopeful despite himself that even if Kurt had not enlisted, he would be known to the person - even though it was unlikely given the great distance between most American towns, and even though he couldn’t even offer a description of him.
---
He arrived by train into Columbus from Indianapolis, early one crisp December evening of 1945. The main businesses in town were just beginning to close up, and Blaine hurried to find the city chambers or war office before they closed; rather than be discouraged about how far east he had come with no luck, he was excited that he must be getting closer.
“Humphrey, you say? This time it was a man, but he had horn-rimmed glasses like most of the people who checked records.
““Yes, Kurt Humphrey, doctor with the US Air Force, stationed in Pearl Harbor up until mid-1941 and then a volunteer on loan to the British Air Force in the United Kingdom until after the attack. His brother, Finn, was also with the Air Force in Pearl Harbor, but wasn’t so lucky.”
There was a pause, or did Blaine imagine it? Ultimately, though, the man’s response was the same: “I’m sorry, Mr. Anderson, but there’s no record of a Humphrey in the Air Force from this district. Perhaps you could try in the next county.”
Blaine felt more deflated than usual. He had come so far, what if he never found him?
“That’s ok,” he said softly, leaning against the counter for support. “Hopefully I’ll have more luck there tomorrow. Maybe I’ll try Westerville, or head north-west to Lima.”
The man’s face suddenly snapped up.
“Lima?”
“Yes,” Blaine stopped breathing.
“And his name is Kurt, and he has a brother, Finn?”
“Y- yes?” Blaine managed to say, still feeling like the air had been taken out of his lungs. He held his poise there just waiting, as the main rifled through some papers.
“Could you be referring to Kurt Hummel and his brother Finn Hudson?” the man pulled out a piece of paper with a list and thumbed down until he found something. He then turned to one of the small drawers behind him and started rummaging in it.
Blaine was gob-smacked. Had he had Kurt’s name wrong all this time? But he was sure he had said Humphrey? That’s how he had introduced… suddenly Blaine realized that Kurt had been very careful not to introduce himself as Dr. Humphrey. In fact, Blaine’s whirring thoughts took him back to a very distinct moment. A moment that had been punctuated by pain and confusion, but a moment that had also been the first time he had heard Kurt’s voice. When the nurse had seemingly corrected him as he was saying his name.
“I… I guess I could,” Blaine said, licking his lips as a sense of excitement started to well in him. “I knew him in England in the earlier stages of the war, and ‘Hummel’ is a rather German name, isn’t it? Perhaps he adopted a pseudonym to avoid any unpleasantness?”
“Hmpf, sounds like something you stuck-up Brits would require,” the man responded. “Ah HA! Here we are, yes Kurt Hummel.” He pulled out a card with a grainy photo and some basic information. “Is that him?”
“Y- yes,” Blaine squeaked, his eyes blinking rapidly. He had never seen Kurt before, but he wanted it to be him so badly. It must be him. He tried to capture and record the image in the small browning photograph. “Oh my thank you so much sir! You cannot know how grateful I am!”
“Hmmm,” the man was reading the file, “yes, Kurt Hummel enlisted with his step-brother and next of Kin, Finn Hudson. As far as I can tell, Dr. Hummel is still with the Air Force, but as you will know operational whereabouts would not be expected to be on this file. You say Finn Hudson passed away in the Pearl Harbor attack?” The record keeper looked up at Blaine.
“Um, well I assumed so, but since I’ve been using the wrong name maybe not?”
The man reached back into the drawer and pulled out a second card. “Ah indeed not, records here say that Hudson was awarded an honorable discharge in 1943, last known address is in Lima. Would you like me to give it to you?”
Blaine didn’t think he could speak and just nodded. He lifted his hand to take the address written on a small note-card and tried to stop it from shaking quite so much as he took the card in his fingers. He nodded and even bowed to the man in front of him, tears coming to his eyes. Finally he managed to say thank you, and then just kept saying it in one long stream. The man started to look suspicious and Blaine turned to leave as fast as he could, wondering how quickly he could get to Lima the next day.
---
He was in Lima just after lunchtime, after paying decidedly too much for the fare, as only first class seats had remained. He quickly left the station and walked towards the main shops, where he was assured he would find Hummel’s Tires and Lube.
He thought his pace would quicken as he approached, but instead it got slower and slower. What if Kurt was there? What if he didn’t even know who Blaine was? What if he did but didn’t care to see him again - only considered him one of many patients in a long war? Blaine had no idea what Kurt had seen or done once the American allies had entered the war effort. He’d tried to look out for him but since he’d had the wrong surname all along it was little wonder he had not been successful. He wished he’d known the correct name from the start. It would have been so much easier, one way or the other.
Blaine realized he had stopped and was just a couple of feet from the garage entrance. A figure appeared, apparently looking for someone on the street, and looked at him, confused.
“You ok there mister?” the young man had a stronger American accent than Kurt had, and looked to be ethnic of some type. Blaine didn’t think this was Finn.
“I… I am looking for Finn Hudson, or Kurt Hummel,” Blaine nearly faltered saying Kurt’s name.
“Ah the boss is away,” the man, practically still a boy, said.
“Oh, I see,” Blaine wasn’t sure which person the man was referring to. “Do you know when he will return?”
“Who are you talking to Puck?” A rougher, older voice rang out from inside the garage, and was soon followed by a bulky greasy looking man.
“This English fella is looking for Finn,” Puck responded. “I said he was away.”
“Why you lookin’ for Finn?” the greasy man said.
“I…” Blaine wasn’t sure why but he didn’t feel at ease with this man. “I was with the British Air Force and trained with him before you Americans joined the war. I only just discovered he survived the horrible attacks at Pearl Harbor. I had thought him dead, you see, but now that I have discovered otherwise and since I am in the USA, I thought I would look him up. We shared quite a lot in those training days.”
The greasy man eyed Blaine warily. “Did you boys train with the Brits before the attack?” he asked Puck, but Puck didn’t’ appear to be listening anymore; his attention was more focused across the street where a young waitress was setting the tables in the window of a diner. “What? Oh yeah, sure,” he replied vaguely, and Blaine tried not to let out a sigh of relief.
“Um, so he is away then?” Blaine prodded tentatively. “May I inquire as to where? Or for how long?”
“Lord knows how long,” the greasy man grumbled. “He ups and leaves me in charge of this dump and of managing Casanova here,” he gestured towards Puck, “all because that fairy brother of his has got into some trouble in New York. Something about a dishonorable discharge - as if people like him should have been let into the Air Force anyway!”
“Oh, so he’s in New York?” Blaine concentrated on the pertinent information at hand and ignored the rest, although his teeth started clenching in his jaw.
“Yeah I figure, probably staying with his old sweetheart and her husband since they’re still on friendly terms. Here, I’ll find their address for you. It’s really swell that you’ve come this way and if you two were friends before the war then he would be unhappy to miss your visit.”
Blaine saw Puck suddenly look surprised at the reference to being friends with Finn and prayed silently that he wouldn’t say anything.
“Thank you very much, Mr. … ?”
“Not a problem, now if you’ll excuse me these cars ain’t gonna fix themselves. PUCK! Stop looking like a love-sick pansy and help me!”
Blaine never did get the man’s name, but he wasn’t sure he minded. He had to get to New York.
---
The train trip to Penn Station in New York City was long, taking much of the next day and early evening. Blaine spent most of the trip oscillating from excitement to fear, and trying to sleep in between. The world around him had seemed so harsh ever since leaving that hospital in Britain, so cacophonous after a sightless and quiet existence in the hospital. It had been too much - replacing isolation with complete sensory overload. The end result was that where he was, sitting on a train rumbling through the American landscape, he felt more isolated than ever. But the long silver threads of the train tracks were pulling him out of his isolation, he could feel it.
Once in New York City, he found his way to the address on the piece of paper. There, he stood outside for some time. What if Kurt was in there? Was it too late to knock on the door? It was nearing 8pm, surely that was too late for a stranger to be knocking on the door? What if this person didn’t want to divulge Kurt’s whereabouts? What if the Kurt in the picture wasn’t the person he was looking for at all?
Blaine shook himself out of his doubt and took a deep breath. He had not come this far to wait any longer. He had not come this far to stop at the key moment. However it was to play out, it would play out, and he was going to play it now.
The door opened quite quickly after he knocked.
“Oh, oh I’m sorry I was expecting someone else… ah can I help you?” A petite woman had answered the door quite enthusiastically, only to retreat in behind the door quite quickly, guarding the interior carefully.
“I do apologize for disturbing you so late,” Blaine removed his hat as he spoke. “I was provided this address by a colleague of Mr. Finn Hudson in Lima, Ohio, who said I might find him here? I have come a long way, you see.”
“Oh, oh I’m so sorry sir but Mr. Hudson left to catch the train this afternoon. You have only missed him by a couple of hours.”
Blaine smiled. “Ah, I fear he must have boarded the same train from which I alighted only a short while ago.”
Blaine didn’t quite know what else to say, whether he should ask after Kurt or not. He didn’t know if this person knew Kurt at all. He shifted a bit from foot to foot.
“Did you travel all the way from Lima, Mr. ...?”
“Anderson,” Blaine supplied. “Former Lieutenant Blaine Anderson.” He didn’t know why he’d added his rank, perhaps to make the woman feel more at ease talking to a stranger in the dark, but the impact of his words seemed great judging by her reaction. She gasped a little and raised a hand to her mouth, her eyes going wide. Quickly, however, she composed herself, social graces returning as she stepped back and opened the door further.
“I am Rachel St James, Lieutenant Anderson, and a close friend of Mr. Hudson’s brother. Would I be correct in assuming you are in fact here in search of Dr. Hummel, and not Mr. Hudson?”
Blaine could only nod, fixed on the spot. The very fact that Mrs. St James seemed to know him caused his spirits to lift significantly, but he felt if he said or did anything that the bubble might burst, revealing the dream for some sort of delusion.
“Please, Lieutenant, come in for a moment.”
Blaine followed her into the house and sat down in the living room as she did. “Is he, is he here?” He couldn’t keep the question inside any longer.
“No,” Mrs. St James smiled. “I am glad that you have come, though, because it gives me an opportunity to size you up. You are quite handsome, aren’t you? I can’t believe Kurt didn’t mention those soft, hazel eyes of yours.”
Blaine tried to ignore the inference that Kurt may have commented on his physical appearance. He hoped Kurt would think of him that way, but didn’t want to count on it. It seemed too close to his fantasy, too perfect that Kurt’s desires would match his own and that he would look upon Blaine as Blaine hoped to look upon him.
“Well Dr. Hummel has never seen my eyes,” he replied, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible, though probably failing to disguise his excitement. “I was severely injured in the Blitz and my head was covered in bandages the whole time he cared for me.”
“So you have never set eyes upon him?”
“No Ma’am,” Blaine shook his head. “Those were difficult months, but made infinitely more bearable by the conversation, care and patience he displayed as my primary physician. We shared some interests and he was kind enough to converse with me, to help the time pass and stymie the isolation that I felt. I was so very sad when he had to leave following the attack on Pearl Harbor, for many reasons. In fact, until only a couple of days ago I had thought his brother killed in the attack.”
“We all did for some months,” Mrs. St James cast her eyes down, “but Kurt insisted on visiting every hospital in the vicinity of Pearl Harbor - even the local ones - and he found him. He was unconscious and almost unrecognizable, but it was him. By then, we were in the war and the Japanese advance in the Pacific was particularly frightening. Kurt was sent to various places in the Pacific Arena. He only returned a little while ago,” she paused, and looked at Blaine with calculating eyes. “The first thing he did when he got back was to look for you, but you are no longer with the Air Force?”
Blaine shook his head and slumped back into the couch, laughing at the irony. “The first thing I did when the war ended was secure a new civilian life here in the United States. In fact, I was planning to leave before the war even ended, in the hope that it would end eventually. Thank God it did.”
“And Kurt?” Mrs. St James’ response was lightning fast, and Blaine realized he was being tested. She knew, and she accepted it.
“Why do you think I chose the United States for my new life?” Blaine cocked an eyebrow. “Most of everyone I know is opting to move to the countryside, or to a Commonwealth country like Canada, or Australia. But I didn’t think I’d find Kurt in any of those places.”
Mrs. St James, nodded, and stood to approach the desk in the corner of the room. “This is the name and address of the hospital where he now works, as a civilian doctor”, she wrote as she spoke. “He is working there tonight - the night-time shift - so you can head over there now or at about 7am tomorrow when he finishes his shift.” She paused to look at Blaine and grinned. “Don’t worry, the coffee at the diner across the road isn’t too bad.”
“He is a civilian doctor now?” Blaine asked, taking the paper in his hand. “I, um, how did… I mean yesterday I heard…”
“I’m sure I know who you talked to if you went to the tire shop,” Mrs. St James interrupted him, “and take no notice. When Kurt advised he wanted to leave the Air Force there were some ruffles and someone tried to make trouble, but that’s all sorted. Finn saw to that and made sure that that person was exposed for who they were.”
“O- okay,” Blaine was confused, but concentrated on the information and priorities at hand. He had the address of where he could find Kurt right at that minute. The realization hit him with a start and he rose to his feet. “I, um, thank you, Mrs. St James, you have been incredibly kind and helpful and I hope to repay you one day, but I must leave now.”
“Of course,” she led him to the front door, “and please, call me Rachel. I have a feeling we shall see each other again, and it would seem odd to maintain such formality.”
Blaine made a fuss of putting his hat back on in an attempt to hide the tears forming in his eyes, and stepped outside. There, he turned and gave a short bow and a wave to Rachel, who smiled and nodded back at him. He was away.
He searched at first for a taxicab to take him to the hospital, but they were scarce, so he started walking with the help of some directions from a policeman. It was a cold night but he was propelled by his emotions, passing block after block in what seemed like no time at all, barely noticing his surroundings.
Almost an hour later, he saw the lights of the hospital, as three ambulances passed him by, all with their sirens blaring. They all stopped in the emergency entrance and Blaine tried to see from his distant vantage point whether any of the staff exiting the building could be Kurt.
He stopped himself and considered his situation for a moment. It was almost 10pm, some accident had obviously befallen some New Yorkers meaning the hospital would be busy, and after a lengthy day and walk he probably looked a mess.
He considered finding a hotel nearby, but before he could get too far some lights across the road from the hospital caught his eye. The diner. He hurried in and ordered some coffee and food. The waitress looked upon him pityingly, probably imagining him as a relative of a sick person in the hospital, and offered him use of the staff bathroom, including the shower. He accepted and before he knew it, before midnight even, he was fed, watered, washed, and in a fresh set of clothes.
He had no more excuses.
Outside, there was much less activity than there had been when he’d first arrived. The arrival lane was empty at the emergency room, and there weren’t any people scurrying about. Blaine walked through the door and navigated to the general admissions area - he did not want to bother the nurses at emergency.
“Yes?” a bored, overweight woman drawled.
“I- I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Blaine said, “but I was hoping I might be able to speak to Dr. Hummel?”
“Who?”
Blaine’s heart dropped. “Dr. Hummel,” he repeated, “Dr. Kurt Hummel.”
“Oh right, yeah, he’s the new guy isn’t he? Pretty boy all the young nurses are tittering about?”
“That will be him, yes,” Blaine smiled with relief, “I believe he is on duty tonight and I wondered whether I might…”
“Are you ill?”
“What? Uh, no.”
“Well then I’m not sure I can help you sir,” the woman responded, and consulted her ledger. “It has been a busy night and the doctors work very hard with their patients.”
“Oh of course,” Blaine ran his hand through his hair, calming the curls that rebelled against the styling wax. “I am willing to wait until he’s on break. I’ve come a long way you see.”
“I can hear that in your accent,” the woman nodded, “but that don’t change the fact that Dr. Hummel is a doctor here and very busy.”
“I quite understand,” Blaine said, deflated. “Perhaps if you don’t mind I might wait anyway?”
“Suit y’self,” she shrugged.
“Thank you,” Blaine patted the counter in front of him and looked around. “I think I’m going to get a coffee from that diner across the street. Would you like one?”
“Uh… sure,” she looked surprised by the offer.
“Ok then I’ll be back in no time. Would you mind telling him, if you see him, that I am here?” Blaine hoped he wasn’t pushing too far.
“I… I’ll see what I can do.”
Blaine went back to the diner and bought two coffees. The nurse seemed even more surprised when he reappeared with coffees but wasn’t obviously more friendly.
“No promises, Mr. …”
“Anderson,” Blaine supplied, “Blaine Anderson.”
With that, he settled himself into a chair at the end of a bank of four, near the window by the entrance door. There was a small table next to the chairs where he placed his satchel and briefcase, and he positioned his coat over him like a blanket. He supposed he should probably just find a hotel, but nothing was taking him away from that hospital at that moment.
He drifted off to sleep, barely noticing as people came in and out of the hospital at infrequent intervals. Occasionally the bright lights of a car would pierce through his eyelids but mostly he kept them shut, listening for a familiar sound or sounds.
When he heard some, he thought he was still sleeping at first. There was murmuring, a tone of surprise, and then a gasp. Blaine smiled a little with his eyes still closed. He was imagining Kurt discovering him, like he had so many times before, and was going to enjoy the fantasy.
A touch on his leg shocked his eyes open.
“Blaine?”
Everything stopped as Blaine’s eyes focused on the face in front of him. He looked older than in the picture, but so much more vibrant. The picture had not done justice to the small flecks of green in his eyes, to the light peppering of freckles on his cheekbones, to the rich mélange of browns in his hair color, made evident by the cool light of dawn filtering through the window.
“Blaine, is it really you?” Kurt’s voice whispered, his hand now clasping at Blaine’s leg as he crouched in front of him. He looked into Blaine’s eyes with wonder. “I thought I would never see you! After I came back from Britain the war was so horrible and I was in such far-flung locations, and then I returned and I called the Air Force in England and they said you weren’t in the Air Force, and then I called your father and he acted like he’d lost both sons in the war, and I didn’t know what was going on but I was just hoping you’d be out there somewhere and that maybe, and oh your eyes are beautiful and healed, and you don’t even need a walking stick? Oh how I wish I’d been able to see these eyes when I had first known you…”
Kurt trailed off and took a couple of deep breaths. All Blaine could do was blink rapidly, shock having overwhelmed him. He wanted to cry, laugh, hug and kiss Kurt, all at once. It was obvious that it hadn’t been in his head, that their connection had been genuine and that his search had been justified.
“Blaine? Blaine won’t you say something?” Kurt’s voice got tighter with emotion, and Blaine felt tears welling as the emotion hit him with equal force. “Oh Blaine you’re crying, please say something.”
“Oh-” Blaine cleared his throat. “Oh Kurt,” he said, smiling through the tears. “Oh there you are,” he moved his hand to place it on top of Kurt’s and squeezed. “I’ve been looking for you forever.”
---
The End.
A/N: Thanks for reading!