The story is mine, the characters are not. They belong to FOX and CP Coulter.

Charlie is alone when he wakes up. No one sits at his bedside. He isn't in a hospital or even on a bed. He's sleeping on the ground under a tarp hung off of the tank and he can hear shots in the distance. He looks down at his arm and judges the injury to be four or five months old.

Blaine is sitting with the twins on top of the tank and they nod to him as he walks toward them.

"Morning sunshine," Evan says as Ethan winks. Charlie locates the sun. It isn't morning.

"Howard came around about ten ago, says we're off in twenty," Blaine informs Charlie. "We were gonna wake you, but I figured you could nap for a bit longer."

Blaine shrugs and Charlie stares blankly. He doesn't remember having to adjust to the "old" memories before. He doesn't even remember knowing about both sets of realities in these memories. Slowly, he remembers where he is. Ferryville. They've been in and out of combat for days, and troops are getting antsy about the Germans surrendering soon.

Charlie knows better to hope it'll happen, but for once he thinks the rumors might be true. He pulls down the tent and prepares to move out.

A day passes and Charlie realizes he hasn't switched back and forth at all. None of his "old" memories last this long.

Two more days pass and Charlie starts to forget the name of his prep school and the sight of boys constantly pulling out little phones.

One more day and these moments now are the only things that are real. His memories are real. His fellow soldiers are real. The German surrender is finally real.

Charlie thinks that maybe this was just the kind of victory that has to feel bittersweet. Maybe the surrender of the Axis troops in North Africa will mean a lot to the grand scheme of the war – Charlie doesn't think so – but it certainly won't mean a lot to his division. Charlie isn't going home. Charlie is going to Italy. The twins are going to Italy. Wes is going to Italy. Blaine is going to Italy.

Justin isn't going to Italy. Kurt isn't going to Italy. Maybe this is why Charlie feels compelled to sit by Blaine in silence. Lots of men here have made best friends of strangers, and lots of men have lost these friends to battle. But Justin and Kurt aren't dead – the qualification yet lingers in Charlie's mind a little too loudly – and that still doesn't change the fact that Charlie and Blaine will probably never see them again.

Charlie doesn't say a word to Blaine and they don't share a silent conversation either. But he guesses Blaine is thinking the same thing and Charlie knows it doesn't matter either way.

Blaine has said goodbye to Kurt a few times already and it's only through their fortune – misfortune by most standards, probably – that they've come back to places they've left. Charlie wonders if it gets easier to say goodbyes or harder. He guesses from the look in Blaine's eyes that it gets harder, so he decides not to ask for Justin's address. It's a decision, and Charlie thinks those are the only gifts you can give yourself. He'll only get one goodbye with Justin. Then he won't have to compare them.

But Charlie never gets any goodbyes with Justin. By the time word spreads that everyone is being sent to Italy, Justin is already gone. No one feels the need to tell obnoxious enlisted American anything about where he went, but Charlie guesses he's been promoted out of the field.

The stars that night are as they always were, but Charlie knows for certain that they aren't the same stars he saw in Beja or Ohio.

For years, Charlie thinks these aren't our stars. He forgets Ohio and he forgets prep school, but he remembers Justin and he remembers kissing him under the Beja night sky.

He thinks of taking a vacation to London. He thinks about finding Blaine's address and asking if he kept in touch with anyone. With the twins, or with Kurt, or… He thinks about writing Justin letters even if he doesn't have an address to send them to.

In the end, he sends Blaine a letter that doesn't even mention anyone outside of Blaine's family. He gets a letter back written in that soft polite voice that Charlie didn't even remember Blaine having. Blaine doesn't mention anyone either except for a small postscript.

I gave him your address.

For a week it haunts Charlie, and he looks up at the stars and knows that they're his again. And then the postscript rings in his ears like a doorbell. Like his doorbell.

Charlie knows before he answers the door and he can't help but realize that he's gotten used to hoping again.

"Hi." Charlie wonders why he can't think of anything else to say to the British man standing in front of him. He doesn't look much older and Charlie thinks that maybe it's hard to look old as a civilian when someone's seen you at war.

"We never said goodbye," Justin offers. It's a funny introduction.

"You came here to say goodbye?" Charlie doesn't ask Justin inside.

"I – " Charlie watches Justin's eyes and wonders if the flash that passes over them is a gift. "I was kind of hoping if I came here, I would never have to say goodbye."

It's no testament to Charlie's supposedly stoic temperament, but instead to his friendship lived only in a year, that the two men smirked at each other simultaneously. Charlie thinks it's a decision he could get used to.