A Thank you and AN: Hi everyone!

So, this is SO hard for me to write WITHOUT getting emotional. Lol

I'm sorry if this is terribly long but I wanted to share my emotions.

This is the very last chapter to this WONDERFUL ride!

I AM SO GRATEFUL TO EVERYONE FOR THEIR PATIENCE AND KIND WORDS.

I know I take 87 years to update lol BUT I am so glad you all have stuck by me through this. I am going to truly miss this story.

I started out writing fanfic back in 2014 because I was going through some TOUGH things in my life. I wanted to become a fanfic writer because other stories have HELPED me through the pain and heartache in my life. And I wanted to do the same for people going through some stuff too. I have met the KINDEST most loyal people on here. People that kick my ass into gear even when I feel like giving up. I know this is corny but imma say it anyways, I wouldn't be able to do this without you all!

I started this story because besides the obvious that Kurtofsky is my ship. I started it because I had a dream about this particular story. Who knew this would lead me here today. :)

This is the first story I am finishing BUT its NOT my last. Far from it. :)

Glee has helped me through hard times and I am SO grateful it did.

Ok, now that I got all mushy lol!

On to the story, I won't spoil it BUT I hope you all enjoy! So for the very last time... Please review. Please be kind. Have a great day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3

Chapter 29

His eyes opened.

He could see his clothes laid out for the day on a nearby grandfather rocker. There were some dust bunnies floating around the room in the early morning sunshine. He reasoned with himself whether he should clean his house, do chores around the barn, join a cult, or cut off his arm. But his dark, smarmy, personal jokes didn't really help. In fact, they made it worse.

Almost immediately, he felt nervous. This was going to be a momentous day. Not necessarily good or anything, but he just didn't know.

He turned on his side. Across from him was that ugly yellow Edwardian wallpaper he always hated. Why his dad would choose that was beyond him, but it was even stranger that he didn't replace it himself.

So in the end, Dave rolled to a sitting position. He had that yucky taste in his mouth from sleep, his eyes burned in the light, his back, legs, hips, pelvis, shoulders, and fingers hurt, and he was afraid to stand up. Sure he was afraid to stand because he could easily fall over. At least when he first woke up. But he was scared for another reason.

He had a mission that day.

But bravery took over and he immediately thought of Quinn. She had survived so much in her life and Dave almost smiled. He considered her beautiful, feminine smile, and the way she always seemed to get him to do whatever she wanted. And yet he never felt taken for granted. Instead, he had finally heeded to her advice (albeit helped by Azimio, Dave Jr., and Kevin) and was going to do what he needed to do.

With sudden determination, Dave stood up and began his day – a quick visit to the bathroom, a whorebath, and dressing in his finest Wrangler jeans and flannel shirt. After that, he took the stairs one at a time. Morning hips just don't work all that well. And then, he saw the damage in his living room and tried his best to ignore it. But it can be difficult to bypass when you have to leap over broken records and furniture.

He entered the kitchen and prepared his breakfast. Instead of having something quick, he had a full breakfast – five scrambled eggs, four sausage links, hash browns, and whole milk. A meal suitable for a Russian. He chuckled to himself as he ate his food. The milk was nearly sour be he didn't care. He'd probably go to the store after his mission.

But all too soon, he was done with his food. He sat back and let his food settle for a few moments. Dave refused to look into the living room. It's not like he needed a reminder of the Karofsky temper. His mind drifted back to the times when Kurt would houseclean.

Kurt was quite the dictator. 'Dave, move this couch!', 'Stop working in the barn and help me!', 'Get that cat out of this house, Dave!, 'If you're real good to me, I'll make Spanakopita.'

Dave closed his eyes. Memories can be wonderful but they can be devastating as well.

Forcing himself up, he grabbed his dirty dishes and began loading the dishwasher. After placing the dirty pans in there as well, he wiped the countertops, stove, sink, and even the refrigerator. Dave huffed and puffed as he went along while his acne-laden throat itched like mad. And that's when it hit him.

He was procrastinating.

With a heavy sigh, he lumbered over to the sink and dropped the washrag in it. A strange hum filled his ears then when he stood there. His eyes closed once again and he found he couldn't move. The sound resonated within his brain and saturated the parts that weren't Agent Orange-infected. He felt like he was in a huge, dark warehouse and couldn't see through it. Dave's breath became erratic and his teeth clenched. Life and death were no longer the same, museums could never be warm, you could definitely fish with concrete, and polka dots really do go with orange…

Dave snapped his eyes open! Immediately, he had to hold onto the sink for balance. He was out of breath and clutched his heart out of habit. Dave realized he couldn't continue to do this. He had to finish this. Or start this over. But he had to do this. He just had to.

After he recovered, Dave Karofsky strode over to the foyer, grabbed his keys and left his house. Even in that moment, it seemed like he was leaving it for a very long time.

He had memorized the drive there. He had known it for decades. And yet, as he turned his old, beat-up truck onto State Route 65, he didn't flinch like he usually did when he saw those gothic towers. For a moment, Dave thought he would collapse right then and there and get into an accident. But he surprised himself by doing just nicely, parking the truck in the Scarlet Towers parking lot.

Dave cut the engine. He stared at the steering wheel. Fingers roamed the ridges and soon he traced them around and around. Then he made sure the gearshift was in park. He checked the windshield wipers. Yes, they were fine. The turn signals were off. Yes, good too. Headlights? Yup – they were out. The radio? Wasn't even turned on.

"Dammit…" Dave muttered. He was doing it again. Procrastinating. It's funny how easy that happens.

Laboriously, he got out of the truck but kept his head down. Some stiff joints made it difficult to walk through the parking lot but he made due. As he approached the entrance to Scarlet Towers, he could see a few people outside the facility. They were either employees on smoke breaks or family smoking to deal with what was inside. Dave didn't even want to look at them anymore.

He opened the door. He took a breath.

Then, the inner door. Dave's body shook.

He approached the metal detectors. His eyesight went blurry for just a second.

"Name?" a guard suddenly asked, making Dave jump.

"Uh, Dav-…" he cleared his throat. "Dave Karofsky."

The guard looked confused. "Weren't you just here not too long ago?"

"No."

"Huh. Well, put any metal on this conveyor belt. I need to know who you're visiting too." And then, the guard looked at him again curiously. "Are you here to see Kurt Hummel?"

Stunned, Dave said, "Yes." The guard said nothing, losing interest.

Dave removed his keys and trusty Kizylar pocketknife. He dropped them in the little tray and walked through the detectors with no problem. The guard hardly looked at him anymore and silently handed him his things. But when the dumb guard ignored him, Dave was confused.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

The guard turned around. "Yes?"

"Isn't there…" he looked down for a moment and then right back up. "Are there any restrictions on who can see Kurt Hummel?"

"Well," he said, approaching a computer at his desk, "let me see…" He perused the file for a while and then looked back up at Dave. "Nope. None here."

"But…?"

"There isn't, Mr. Krofksy." And then, he took another look. "Oh! There WAS a restriction, but it was lifted about thirty years ago."

THIRTY YEARS AGO. Dave thought he would faint right then and there. After all this time, his pathetic excuse he publicly said was gone. And no one told him! Of course, no one probably knew. Still though, it was not the news he wanted to hear and Dave simply turned and walked forward. His heart felt like it was breaking.

Despite the attempts to visit in the past, Dave had never been there before. He knew the room number. He knew the floor. But finding the elevator in that decrepit old building was a bit of a chore for him. Every single step seemed like more work than operating a compost mixer. Eventually, he found the elevator just as a young girl, not much older than ten, got in the elevator with him. The doors shut.

Dave looked down. Her brunette pigtails were uneven and she was playing with her chewing gum. She appeared to be nervous and looked up at him fearfully. He tried to smile at her, but it just came across as something aghast. So, she simply turned around and stared at the doors. The elevator was very slow and Dave couldn't take his attention away from her.

"Aren't you a little young to be here on your own?" Dave asked. She shook at his baritone voice and wouldn't turn around. "I…I'm here to…to…to…see my daddy."

"Are you?" Dave asked with a softened voice.

"Yeah." She answered, twirling her hair in her fingers. "He's sick."

"Well, my dear, I hope he gets better."

Pause. "He won't." Dave frowned. Then, the doors opened to the second floor. But neither person moved. The girl looked up at him and he could see the sadness in her face.

"Are you getting out?" she asked.

Dave snapped out of it. "Y-yeah. Yeah." He exited the doors, but abruptly turned around, placing his hands on the door. Dave looked down to her and THIS time, warmly smiled.

"Don't worry, little girl." He began. "I'm sure your daddy will come home to you as soon as possible."

"Yeah?" she enthusiastically asked.

"Well, yeah! He's getting good care here. Sometimes people just need to heal."

"Yeah!"

They shared a warm smile and the elevator door started dinging. So Dave let it go and took a step back.

"Bye, little girl!"

She waved to him. "By-" The doors closed before she could finish.

Dave was all alone. He stared at the elevator doors and hoped the girl would be OK. But he couldn't help but think of what his own day would bring. With no visitors, nurses, or doctors in the immediate area, David Karofsky was completely on his own for the first time in his life. This was nothing like fighting commies in Vietnam. Or arguing with Quinn. Or yelling at Azimio. Or even reasoning with his grandson and Carrie. No. This was something completely different and out of his realm of understanding.

He turned to the right and saw the sign towards the room number he wanted. And then, Dave began to walk. Each step hurt him, physically and emotionally. He didn't really have any thoughts in that moment as he inhaled the harsh, hospital odors. Instead, Dave just wanted to see him. He missed him. Oh, how he missed him. And all too soon, he saw the nameplate –

223

HUMMEL

Dave swallowed. He even took a deep breath. And remembering how he carried Kurt out of the jungles of Vietnam, he took that moon-landing step over the threshold and into Kurt's room.

Kurt was sitting Indian style on his bed, eating a cookie. He fiddled with the chocolate chips, picking at his three-day old facial hair. Kurt could never really grow a beard and he didn't really like that. He hummed a little to something in his head, non-sensical words coming out of his mouth. His brown and gray hair flopped around and he seemed so happy with his little cookie. Kurt wore a simple orange t-shirt and hospital shorts. Suddenly, his hand twirled in the air as if he were conducting something in the air. He turned to look at it as he smiled for absolutely no reason but his own. Then, he returned to the cookie.

A shadow crossed in front of the sick man. He looked at it, noticing how the shadow seemed so large and then vanished under his bed. Kurt thought about looking for it and even got on all fours to investigate.

Dave simply watched. He knew something like this would happen and didn't exactly know what to say or do. So, he just took the initiative with something simple…

"Kurt?"

The smaller man looked up. A flash of memory seemed to hit him suddenly and he couldn't believe his eyes. His backside flopped back on the bed and he stared at this bigger guy, seeing the ugly scars on his face, the acne on his throat much like his own.

Dave scratched his neck. Kurt then did the same.

Dave let his hand go down towards his heart. And Kurt did this as well.

"Kurt?"

But Kurt was confused. "Y-yes?"

Dave felt like he was having a panic attack. "I'm…I'm here."

Kurt didn't respond. They stared at each other, neither knowing what was really happening. And yet, wheels were turning in their heads and gradually, Kurt recognized who was standing before him.

"Mr. Hummel?" This voice came from afar. A redhead nurse came in and walked towards him. "I need to take your vitals."

"FUCK OFF!" Kurt roared.

"Kurt." Dave calmly said. There was something to Dave's voice that halted Kurt immediately. His eyes never left Dave's as the nurse took his blood pressure and pulse. Hazel eyes and blue eyes met and you'd think there was no one else in the room. Years and years of pain, passion, heartache, health problems, and so, so much love enveloped them.

"120/80 and 85." The nurse stiffly said. "Good, Kurt. I thought we'd have a problem with you today."

"You won't." Dave whispered. She looked at him and saw something was going on between them.

"Excuse me." She said. And with that, she left the room. Dave turned his head to see her leave. And right when that happened, he felt a crushing blow to his chest!

Kurt wrapped him up in his arms! Stunned, Dave fell against him and they held each other in those ugly surroundings. Tears turned to gasps. And then, to anguished cries of years and years of torment. They would've fallen to the floor had they not clasped each other so firmly. They were probably hurting each other with the sudden hug but they so didn't care.

"Oh God, Kurt. I'm soooooo sorrrrryyyyyyy!" Dave wailed. More tears fell from his eyes and Kurt tried to pull back. Of course he was unsuccessful.

"Ohhhhhhh KURRRRRRRT! I've wanted to visit you for sooooooo LONG! I don't know what held me back! I was afraid and stupid and obnoxious! I let others dictate my actions and I didn't want to face you again until I couldn't STAND IT! I can't believe I almost let my pride and fear get in the way of loving you!"

Kurt's own tears matched his own. His fingers dug into Dave's flannel shirt and he could hardly breathe.

"M sry ooooooo!" Kurt tried to say.

Dave held on for a long moment more and then relaxed his grip, but didn't let go. "W-what?!"

"I'm sorry too!"

"What…what for?" Dave asked, wiping his eyes.

Kurt hesitated, stroking Dave's ugly scars. "I…I've been messed up for a while."

"Don't think anything of it, Kurt." He replied, stroking Kurt's hair. "This place was supposed to help you." Then, his voice darkened. "Was SUPPOSED to."

Kurt looked up at him. "I think they have."

"Really?"

Kurt sniffed. "Yeah. I think so."

Dave didn't really believe him but felt so wonderful in Kurt's arms. So he let it go.

"You didn't really think," Kurt heartily said with a smile, "that I'd let my big Russian go, did you?"

Dave laughed. "Hell no!"

Arms were entwined around waists. Smiles were still shared. And eyes met in a glorious way that only true couples could share.

"I knew you'd come back…" Kurt whispered. "I knew it. I knew something happened a while ago." He looked away. "I don't really remember everything but I knew, I KNEW I'd see you again."

Dave smiled and stayed silent.

"And…" Kurt continued. "I don't feel so…agitated like I used to."

Dave looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, sometimes, I just get lost in a fog. It comes and goes…" He looked back up at Dave. "Oh! I saw Quinn. And someone named Azimio. And CARRIE! Oh, I can't wait to get back home and see her!"

Dave's smile fell apart. He stared down at this suddenly happy man who had a slice of hope and Dave would have to dash that. Kurt realized something was wrong and looked at him oddly. But the bigger guy just watched him, sad expression on his face. And just like true couples do, Kurt immediately understood.

"Oh… I see…" Kurt said.

"Kurt, I'm sorry! I know you want to come home but you're-"

"Sick. I know."

Dave couldn't stand this and tightened his grip a little. "But Kurt? You don't seem so sick to me."

Kurt thought for a second and said, "Not now. I mean, sometimes I can feel it coming on. It's like I smell something funny. Or I see some flashing lights. Like those goddamn mortars in Nam."

Dave closed his eyes. He didn't want Kurt to talk anymore.

"Or," Kurt said, "remember that time we saw 'Star Wars'? I don't. And I don't remember Carrie very well at all. I think I saw her not too long ago…"

"You…you did." Dave painfully said. "You did."

They finally separated. Kurt slowly turned and walked back to his bed. Dave didn't move at first and then sat on the edge when Kurt lied down. The smaller boy looked at his cookie and immediately threw it in the basket. Dave didn't understand the significance of it and let it go.

"But Dave?"

He scratched his neck. "Yeah?"

"Will…" Kurt began, also scratching his neck, "will you stay with me? All day?"

Dave breathed a sigh of relief. "Do you really need to ask?"

Kurt smiled and couldn't really take his eyes off him. And thirty-plus years of pain began to finally drain from Dave's body. He no longer felt pain and hadn't felt this comfortable in a long time. They were just like those two young boys in Vietnam who had their whole lives ahead of them and didn't know what the hell to do.

Suddenly, an idea struck Dave. "I still listen to the '1812 Overture'!"

Kurt chuckled. "Of course you do."

Dave didn't say he broke the record. Instead, he suddenly stood up. "Well?!"

Kurt looked at him dumbly. "Well…what?"

Dave's voice softened. "Get up, Kurt."

"What?"

"Get up. Please."

"Oh, alright you stubborn Russian."

Dave laughed and helped Kurt up. They were in their sixties then and they would sometimes need assistance like this. Kurt walked up to him and abruptly, Dave snatched Kurt's hands in his own.

"What are you doin'?" Kurt asked.

"Dance with me."

"W-what?!"

"You heard me, Hummel." Then, his voice dropped velvety. "Remember the '1812 Overture'? Remember how it goes?"

Kurt looked at him like he was the crazy one and then smiled. "Yes. Yes, I do, Mr. Karofsky."

They didn't even have to hum. Instead, they could hear the gorgeous opening strings, the lone French horn player, the stunning swooning of the symphony. Dave and Kurt slowly spun with a newly rekindled love, like eighth graders at their first dance. Kurt rested his head on Dave's chest and they slowly swung in a lazy circle. Arms encircled each other, Dave stepped on Kurt's foot once, and there was no way they could get interrupted.

"I love you…" Dave said, squinting his eyes shut, "soooo muchhhh…"

Kurt tightened his grip. "I love you too."

They slowly rotated there in that hospital room, cocooned in their own little world. Agent Orange couldn't tear them apart. The Vietnam War couldn't either. Despite everything that happened to them, they were so, so happy to be a part of each other's lives once again. And when you finally are happy, a truly happy person, you can't help but feel gratitude for those minute moments in life when you're thankful for your dumb, little life.

Sure, it took time. But they were dancing. They were happy. And they were in love.

.

AN: Thank you all for reading!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3