Blaine's eyes widened as Santana frantically described the extremely uncomfortable conversation she had just finished with the two inspectors currently standing in his living room.

"They said they needed to speak with you immediately. I tried to block them from the door but they just walked right in. I was tempted to just kick them out because you know I could totally do that. But, I figured that wouldn't help you any, you know with proving your innocence and all that," Santana finished.

"It's okay Santana. It wouldn't hurt to speak with them. They did say they only wanted to talk right?" Blaine asked warily. Santana nodded.

"Alright then, lets go talk to them, but Santana?" Blaine asked.

"Mmhmm?"

"Set it up, just in case." Santana nodded again. She gave him a knowing glance, her eyes twinkling as she headed to the closet adjacent to Blaine's room. After taking many, many deep breaths Blaine exited his room and descended the staircase.

"Hello gentlemen, and what brings you to my secluded home this morning?" Blaine smiled grandly as he welcomed his unwanted guests.

"Diamonds," one of the men, a stocky, red-faced man who went by the name of Foussard, replied. Blaine's smile faltered.

"Diamonds? And why would anything involving diamonds interest me?" Blaine asked innocently. Foussard snorted while the other man, a smaller meeker man named Cotierre, spoke up.

"Mr. Anderson, do you really need to wonder why we're currently in the home of a renowned jewel thief when the subject of missing gems is the center of our conversation?"

"Now, you know I haven't stolen a jewel in years," Blaine protested. At that moment Santana descended down the steps and gave a curt nod in Blaine's direction.

"Bullshit Anderson," Foussard shot back, "These crimes have you written all over it. No sign of entry, no fingerprints or footprints, and even a yellow feather left at every scene." Blaine stared stonily at them both.

"Are you gentlemen here to question me or to sentence me?" he asked quietly, but with an unmatched intensity.

"Now now, all three of you, lets just calm down," Santana began, "Why don't we go out to the patio and talk this out like dignified men." None of them seemed willing to budge. She sighed.

"Fine, let me at least get you some coffee. Best in the area!" she said with a wink as she sauntered away into the kitchen, easily distracting two of the three men with her exit. But, not for long because Cotierre soon spoke up again.

"Listen Mr. Anderson, as much as we would enjoy some…coffee, we would much rather take you to the station for questioning," he stated.

"Of course," Blaine replied. "I understand the situation you two are in. If I were you I would suspect me too. Just let me change into some more suitable clothing. I don't think me in my pajamas would leave the best impression there."

"Sure Mr. Anderson, you can go and change." Blaine bowed his head graciously.

"Thank you sirs." Blaine left and entered his room. He locked his door and slowly let out a breath of air he didn't know he was holding. He had to act quickly. He changed into something more proper for town and glanced at his reflection in the mirror to see if there was anything he could do to his hair. There wasn't. Observing the room, he finally located what he had been looking for: a small pistol. He grabbed the gun delicately and looked toward his open window.

"Thanks Santana," Blaine whispered.

The woman who currently had Blaine's thanks handed the two inspectors some coffee as they waited for Blaine to change. Seconds turned to minutes and Santana saw the men grow restless before her very eyes. When it finally reached the point where they could wait no longer, a loud shout rang out from the master bedroom.

"Oh my god!" Santana shrieked as the men scrambled up the steps and, after a few shoves, slammed the door opened. Expecting the worst, the men were shocked to see a black ring of smoke on the back wall, a small pistol with a string attached to a newly closed window, and no Blaine Anderson in sight.

"That son of a bitch!" Foussard roared as they watched from the window: a sprite individual jump into a vehicle and speed away. They dashed out of the house and clambered into their car, leaving Santana, who let out a loud sigh of relief as she watched the inspectors' car move in hot pursuit of her boss and her dearest friend.

Blaine wasn't that keen on driving. With the winding roads surrounding his home and most of the Riviera, it wasn't a surprise as to why. Nevertheless, Blaine sped on the local country roads as if he practiced on them everyday. As he maneuvered tight turns, Blaine kept glancing in the rear view mirror to see how much of a head start Santana's plan had given him. He thought back to the day Santana showed him that string trick when he first hired her. Now he could add that ruse to the ever growing list of why Santana was invaluable to him and definitely due for that vacation and a raise when he returned home.

"That is if I get the chance to go home," Blaine thought grimly. After five minutes of aimless driving he finally saw a police car in his mirror. He pressed on the gas petal and hoped the police weren't too familiar with the back roads. As he made a particularly sharp turn, he managed to dodge an old man leading his livestock across the road; consequently leaving his pursuers behind herds of goats. This was his chance. Driving his car to a foliage covered area, Blaine hopped out and watched the inspectors' car speed past him. Blaine ran in the opposite direction until he saw what he was looking for: a bus stop. Hopping in the shuttle to town, Blaine glanced to where he left his roadster, only to see it being searched by the inspectors already. Blaine grimaced. He had really liked that car.

Although town was not a place that Blaine was completely comfortable with, due to his face adorning even the smaller local papers, it was the only place where he knew he could get some outside help. He couldn't simply have Santana roundhouse kick anyone who showed up to arrest him, no matter how many times she had told him she wouldn't mind one bit. No, he needed to handle this now. He stepped into an elegant restaurant overlooking the ocean and approached the hostess who began to speak without looking up.

"Hello, welcome to Schue's, how many are in your…," the hostess finally looked at Blaine, only to have her eyes widen and quickly narrow.

"You have a lot of nerve showing up here Warbler," the woman sneered.

"Hi Quinn, it's nice to see you too. May I please speak to Will? It's kind of important," Blaine said, trying the polite approach. Quinn's blue eyes only seemed to narrow more.

"I highly doubt that he's willing to talk to you," she scoffed.

"I'm willing to try," Blaine said tightly, his smile plastered on his face. His patience with Quinn had always been small, but today it took everything Blaine had not to lose his temper. He needed her to like him, if only for a few minutes. Quinn eyed his disheveled hair which was almost always gelled, and the dark circles under his tea-colored eyes before she gave Blaine a slight nod and left to find her boss. Blaine's shoulders slumped in relief as he followed her through the corridors of the restaurant.

Shue's office was clearly not made for a simple restaurant owner. With every angle of his restaurant visible from his chair, thanks to the large windows surrounding the office, William Schuester could see anything and everything that walked through his doors for any kind of business. This was exactly why Blaine felt as if he was in a giant fishbowl as his old co-workers glared at him through the glass while he discussed his dilemma with his former boss.

"Why hello Blaine, I'm surprised the police are letting a bird like you free after last night's robbery. Your best one yet if I do say so myself," Will smirked. Blaine gave no response.

"I can't say I didn't see this coming though," Will continued, "It's not long until a thief is itching to get back to their old ways. I am surprised that it took you this long. How long has it been? Six years?" Will asked.

"Yes, and it'll be seven in two months," Blaine replied fiercely. "I haven't done anything since they locked me up Schue. You know you would be the first person I'd contact if I needed a place to hit. Somebody's trying to frame me. Why else would they duplicate my signature perfectly? I don't know why I've become a target but now every newspaper is reporting on my return. One more theft like this and I'll be locked up for the rest of my life. I just... I cannot handle prison again," Blaine shuddered.

Will's eyes softened in understanding and he stared at Blaine a long time before speaking up.

"Listen Blaine, I can't say that I didn't think you were behind these incidents when they were first being reported. But, if there's one thing that I remember about you is that you always owned up to a theft if you actually committed it. Maybe is was fueled by a need of attention, but you always always confessed. So if you say you didn't commit these crimes, I may just have to believe you." Blaine's eye's lit up.

"Really Mr. Schue? Thank you, it means so much to know that you're on my side," Blaine said relieved. Will just chuckled.

"Now, I know you didn't risk being recognized just so you could get a supporter," Will stated knowingly. Blaine gave him a sheepish smile.

"You know me too well Mr. Schue. I was trying to think of a way I can prove my innocence and the only way I believe I can convince the police that I'm not the thief is to catch him myself.

"Sounds like a plan you'd come up with Anderson," Will grinned, "What do you need me for?"

"I know you have connections," Blaine began. When he saw the tiniest nod from Will he continued.

"What I need from you is a list of the wealthiest visitors in the Riviera at the moment. It's necessary for me to know-" Blaine was cut off by Will's laughter,

"Seriously Anderson? First of all, I don't have any list like that. I've stopped with that part of the business. Secondly, do you think anyone would be willing to give you such a list after what you've been accused of?" Will asked.

"I've got to try!" Blaine yelled, "I can't just sit here and watch my name turn into ruin. Have I done things I'm not proud of? Yes! Yes I have but," Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, "But I'm not committing these crimes. I'm not and I just, I have to catch this guy. I have to."

Will sighed.

"Okay Blaine. I think I know a guy who has such a list. He works for a company that insures jewels. I think I have his number stored in a Rolodex somewhere. Let me go look for it." They both stood up.

"Why don't you go talk to your old Resistance buddies while I find that number? I'm sure they would love to speak with you." Blaine hesitated before speaking up, "That's alright Mr. Schue…I can wait in here," Blaine glanced behind him to see the entire kitchen staff watching him through the glass. Blaine was fairly certain that was the last place he wanted to be at the moment.

"Nonsense," Will said he shooed Blaine out of his office and closed the door, leaving Blaine alone. Blaine gave an audible gulp and turned around to face a room filled with his old friends. No one said a word. Quinn gave him dirty looks as she entered and left the kitchen with orders, Mike and Tina gossiped in the corner while washing dishes, and Sam chopped vegetables with much more force than Blaine deemed necessary. Just as Blaine cleared his throat, a resounding yell echoed through the kitchen. Blaine turned to the source only to have a very pissed-off Noah Puckerman right in front of him.

"My God everyone! Am I the one who is going to have to speak the opinion of the entire group?" Puck questioned. He then turned menacingly toward Blaine. Blaine lifted his head to look at Puck. He first noticed the familiar tired gaze of someone who had spent a number of years in prison. One glance at Puck's fury filled eyes let Blaine know who Puck thought was responsible for his imprisonment.

"Listen Anderson, I don't think I have to say this but here it goes: nobody here likes you, nobody wants you here, You can't just turn into an Egg's Benedict and expect everyone to forgive you seven years later. Honestly, I don't see anyone objecting to me finishing you right here. Your new thefts are ruining our lives! We might get sent back because of you!" Puck roared. Despite Blaine's slight confusion at being called a breakfast dish, there was nothing but terror in his eyes as Puck advanced toward him and backed him into a wall. Puck raised his fist and swung at Blaine, only to have it miss when a sharp "Cut it out!" rang through the kitchen. Puck let out an annoyed groan.

"Dude, seriously. I know you want to lay one on him as much as anyone else," Puck huffed. Nevertheless, he walked away and let the calm and collected Jesse St. James take his place in front. Blaine did not feel any relief.

"Well, well, if it isn't our local canary." Jesse drawled, causing Blaine's eyes to blaze with hate stored away from old grudges. Blaine shut his eyes and prepared for the verbal beating he was about to retrieve. Although he and Jesse might have been close long ago, he was the first to dismiss Blaine and treat him like he meant nothing to The Resistance once he was caught. Blaine always hated him for that. That and the fact that Jesse miraculously escaped prison time while Blaine got a year tacked on for a crime he was fairly sure Jesse committed. Like Blaine would have stolen from a jewelry store. Honestly. Where was the fun in that?

Blaine slowly opened his eyes to see that Jesse was saying nothing. Not a word incriminating him or defending him. He just stared at Blaine like a puzzle he couldn't figure out, which was unnerving. Just when Blaine couldn't take anymore, Will showed up and quickly ushered him inside after snapping at the staff to get back to work. Blaine, physically shaking with anger, slowly sank down in a chair. He placed his head in his hands to calm down.

"Sorry it took so long. I forgot I had at least four Rolodexes filled with names. Here you are." Will handed Blaine the card. Blaine raised his head and eyed the card carefully before speaking aloud.

"A mister F. Hudson, specializing in the insurance of jewels. He's been working for Montral's Insurance for, jeez Schue only three years? How can this guy have any accounts at all? Never mind any rich ones!" Blaine snapped. Will held his hands up defensively.

"Hey, I don't know how this guy does it. Maybe he just turns on that boyish charm that I remember you having one point in your life. All I know is that he has some of the best clients. I'd speak to him as soon as possible if I were you."

Blaine glanced at the card warily. What did he have to lose?

"Alright, how do I go making contact?" Will simply grinned.

"Already took care of that for you. He seemed interested in doing business simply because he'd like to stop paying his clients for stolen gems. Surprisingly, insurance companies don't do well when they actually have to insure. Imagine that. Anyway, he said he would call the phone at the Hotel de Vertaine in an hour or so. You can figure out where to meet then. I'd travel there fast if I were you." Blaine nodded in response. He stood up to shake Will's hand.

"Thank you for this. I certainly owe you one," Blaine stated.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Will replied. At that moment, Quinn entered the office, worry etched on her delicate face.

"Mr. Schuester, the police wish to speak with you on the matter of Blaine Anderson," Quinn said. Will's and Blaine's eyes glanced to the door where the two inspectors from before waited patiently at the hostess stand. Blaine had never been more thankful for Mr. Schue standing exactly where he was at the moment, hiding Blaine from their view. Will eyed Blaine before speaking.

"Quinn, take Blaine out back and find a change of clothes for him. Tell Jessie to find someone who can maneuver his way around a boat. He'll know who I want. Make sure Jesse knows it's vital for Blaine to leave as soon as possible okay? I've got to go handle this. Nice seeing you Blaine. Hopefully the next time we meet it will be under different circumstances."

The petite blonde grabbed Blaine's wrist and dragged him out of the office and through the back rooms. Blaine glanced behind him to see Schue conversing with the inspectors just before one of them made eye contact with Blaine. Crud.

Now outside, Quinn and Blaine were both sprinting toward the docks. Blaine was accustomed to running but he had never felt this panicked. If he was caught now, that was it. Once they reached the boats, a bag stuffed with clothes was thrust in Blaine's hands. He was shoved onto a small vessel and ordered into the cramped captain's quarters.

"Now stay down there and don't even think about coming out before the captain tells you to come out," Quinn hissed.

"How will I know it's the right captain?" Blaine whispered. Peering out of the door, he saw Quinn's mouth turn up ever so slightly.

"Oh, you'll know," she replied. As she was closing the door, Blaine quickly reached out and grasped her hand.

"Thanks Quinnie," Blaine whispered. Quinn only narrowed her eyes in response.

"Don't thank me, thank Schue. Why you are still his favorite I'll never know." And with that, she was gone, leaving Blaine in the dark alone with his thoughts.

Waiting, Blaine decided a long time ago, was the absolute worst part of a job. While some said the thrill lied in the anticipation, Blaine whole-heartedly disagreed. For him, the best part was the picking of the lock and slipping inside a window or door. It was the climbing onto rooftops and ledges and the hiding from the enemy. But, not the waiting. Definitely not the waiting. He sat in the dark for that seemed like hours. Although he realized it was probably a couple of minutes, the antsy feeling never left him. Staring into a pitch black nothing where time seemed to stop, Blaine slowly closed his eyes.

"A Mr. Blaine Anderson," the officer's voice echoed throughout the stark white hall. Blaine felt a rough hand grip his arm and guide him through the hallway. They reached a large unwelcoming door before he was led inside an equally eerie room with a metal table and two matching chairs. One chair was empty while the other held a rather large and foreboding man. Blaine's shackled feet slowly dragged across the concrete floor. He sat down and immediately stared down at his hands. "Don't make eye contact," a voice echoed inside his head, "If you make eye contact they'll believe you think you are superior." So Blaine kept his head down.

"Mr. Anderson, you have now served your entire sentence here. May I ask why you never applied for parole? Your report here says you've been a model prisoner here since day one. So, why no parole?" The warden asked, genuine curiosity seeping through his voice. Blaine licked his chapped lips before responding.

"I didn't think I deserved to be released sir," he answered. The warden stared at him in disbelief and spoke up again.

"Kid, we have proven serial killers here saying they deserve a second chance. Jeez, did they beat the spunk out of you here?" the man chuckled, oblivious to the flinch Blaine emitted. Blaine winced internally as he recalled being slammed into walls. He remembered the impact of fists directed toward his abdomen, his chest, and everywhere else. His small frame might have been useful for thieving, but it was useless in combat. At least he was quick enough to avoid most confrontations. But not all of them.

"Mr. Anderson?" the warden asked, snapping Blaine out of his thoughts.

"Oh I'm sorry sir, What did you say?" he inquired. The warden chuckled again.

"You sure are a meek one aren't you?" the warden muttered.

"Not weak," Blaine thought, "Broken." Blaine mustered up the courage to stare at the warden. He hoped it wouldn't seem to bold. If it was, the warden didn't give any indication of it. Blaine let out an internal sigh of relief. The warden cleared his throat.

"Okay Anderson, I see no reason as to why you cannot be released today. You served all of you time so you deserve your freedom. Let me get an officer to get your things and I'll round up some forms for you to sign." He stood up and left, leaving Blaine in the small white room. He promptly returned with Blaine's possessions, some papers, and the key to Blaine's handcuffs. With the click of a lock, the scribble of a pen, and a fresh set of clothes, Blaine was a free man. A free man who never felt more lost and more trapped.

A sharp rock in the boat jolted Blaine awake. He sunk even deeper into the captain's quarters. The boat suddenly roared to life and Blaine silently prayed that Quinn didn't put him on the wrong boat just to screw with him. A couple of minutes passed before an oily voice called out from above.

"This is your captain speaking. Will the lovely songbird known as Blaine Anderson please come up? Hiding in the dark is hardly the proper way to thank your rescuer. Even if it has been seven years since our last meeting," the voice purred.

Blaine screwed his eyes shut and let out a series of expletives all directed toward Schue. Of course Will would chose him to drive the boat. To help him. Who else, but Sebastian Smythe?


Hello again readers! Hopefully you are enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it! I realized when I posted the last chapter I forgot the disclaimer! (Oops!) So here it goes!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee, Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel or any of the wonderful characters of Glee that I have borrowed for this story. They all belong to RIB. Also, I do not own John Robie, Francis Stevens or any of the plot of To Catch a Thief, directed by the wonderful Alfred Hitchcock.

Thanks again for reading! :)