Hello guys and girls! Here's a nice new chapter for all of you. It got rather long, but that's always a good thing.

Anyway, I figured it was important to know about Neal and Blaine's past in order to set the mood for the upcoming chapters, so this is all a big flashback. Or more like several flashbacks. Writing some of them was like pulling teeth, so please be nice and let me know what you think of it.

Chapter 3

After arriving to the airport in New Heaven, the first thing to do was ditching his old identity and starting a new one. That was as easy as dumping his license on the trashcan and taking out the one he had gotten a couple of months ago. It had taken him several trips to Columbus, but he had finally gotten a perfect ID with the name of Neal Caffrey, from St. Louis, Missouri, complete with a social security number and a high school diploma. Just like that, Cooper Anderson ceased to exist.

He figured he should go as far away from the place he was supposed to be as possible, so he bought a ticket to Los Angeles. If all else failed, his good looks could surely make him a Hollywood star. The only problem with that was the disadvantage of managing a public life.

Even so, in LA the easiest part to play was that of a starving young actor. He managed to rent a tiny room in Compton, and just for the heck of it he signed up for acting classes at the community theatre. It wasn't a complete waste of time, because soon enough the lessons about improvisation came very handy. He also met Claire, an adorable high school senior student who was his first sort of real girlfriend and the first lesson that having a relationship while on the run was a bad idea.

He dedicated his first months to get a hang of the city, what places to go, what contacts where the best. He practiced how to pick pockets every day on the Hollywood Walk of Fame just because he liked the irony of it, learned how to charm his way to a free meal at the best restaurants in Santa Monica, but mostly he learned to act wealthy. Appearance was everything, and although he had grown up in an upper-middle class family, it was nothing compared to what he found here. He learned how to distinguish the snobs from the wannabes, the new money from the old money, the truly rich from the posers. He learned how to act all of them.

When his "relationship" with Claire went to the rocks because of his lack of shearing, he decided he had enough from LA. He moved to San Francisco for a while, enjoying the liberal and eclectic atmosphere of the city. From there he moved to Las Vegas, where casinos became his best teacher. His poker face became perfect, he learned to cheat in almost every card game known to mankind, and became acquainted with the dodgiest men he ever met. That part wasn't so great when Neal discovered he hated violence, having had to face it once or twice. He became an enemy of guns, but learned how to shoot one just in case.

He learned to hide any kind of objects in his body and clothes. He learned how to take them out and back in without anyone noticing. He also learned the best ways to dodge security cameras. After managing to con ten grand from a poker game at the Bellagio he decided he was done, and moved east.

He travelled by land, stopping every time he felt like it and staying anywhere as long as he wanted. He perfected his Spanish in New Mexico and learned how to open safe boxes in Denver. He learned that every little town in the country usually had a Big Man, aka a person who was the richest and most influential, and he conned his way through most of them. He learned that crushing on the Big Man's daughter was usually a bad idea, except if the girl was a rebel, in which case it was the most fun. He even learned that having a pretty face was not always on his best interest, and if you meant to hit hatch through the country, better to do it only in family cars, or in broad daylight through well-transited roads. After that time though, he preferred to just buy a bus ticket to the next city.

Eventually he found himself back in Ohio, where thanks to a contact he got a job in Columbus, where he stayed a couple of weeks and learned about working on a team. It was so weird to be close to home, yet so far away. By this time almost three years had passed, and he was a completely different person. But no matter how much he had avoided thinking about Blaine in that time, he couldn't lose the opportunity to see his brother.

He rented a car and drove to Westerville as soon as the job was done. He got there in less than an hour, and made it through the familiar roads to the house where he had grown up. He parked a few streets over and walked the rest of the way, marveling at how he could be so different yet this town was exactly the same. In the Anderson house the doormat had changed, but apart from that everything was exactly as he remembered it.

It was barely midday on a Tuesday, so obviously there wasn't anybody home. He picked the lock on the back door even though the spare key would probably still be below the flowerpot, and entered the Anderson house for the first time in three years. On the inside only the curtains had changed.

It was like stepping into Twilight Zone, and Neal felt his skin prickle. The last time he was here his name had still been Cooper Anderson, but that guy didn't exist anymore, and not only because his ID had been destroyed.

He couldn't help but go to his old room, and it weirded him out that it was similar and different at the same time. The bed and furniture were the same, but all his personal belongings had been removed. His books and posters were gone and his replica of Botticelli's Primavera, which had been his final art project on junior year, was not hanging on the wall anymore.

So his family had forgotten him and moved on. Well, he had stolen more than forty thousand dollars from them and left without a word, so he guessed he deserved it, but it still stung.

Feeling uncomfortable and out of place, Neal left the house to hide in the neighbor's yard, waiting for his brother. He waited for more than two hours, but his nerves made it seem a lot less. He kept imagining Blaine somehow figuring out he was there, and confronting him with shouts and tears. The memory of Blaine crying for him at the airport still made him sick.

But when Blaine actually came to view, things couldn't be more different. Blaine wasn't a tiny kid with too big eyes and a mop of curls anymore. He was still tiny for his age, but somehow he didn't look like a kid. He walked like a small adult, his hair now short and gelled to his head, and Neal thought no eleven-year-old should look so… solemn.

Practicing his speed and agility, Neal managed to follow Blaine's movements through the windows after he got home. Not that it was very difficult, because Blaine's steps were slow and relaxed, like it was a routine he followed every day, which Neal supposed it was. He disappeared for a little while up the stairs, and reappeared ten minutes later wearing looser pants and carrying a couple of books. He made himself a sandwich and ate it while doing his homework, cleaned after himself when he was done, and watched some TV until the doorbell startled both him and Neal. It was Mr. Jameson, who apparently still was Blaine's piano instructor, and Neal listened while his little brother tried to master Tchaikovsky. He had gotten good, and Neal wondered why he never sat through a piano lesson with his brother when they still lived together. His Blainey had quite the talent.

Neal wondered about just how many things he had missed in his teenage mad race to learn anything he could before escaping. He wondered how much more he had lost now that he was gone. An hour later Mr. Jameson left, but Blaine remained practicing on the piano until it was dark outside. For the best part of two hours a somewhat sloppy version of Swan Lake was all that could be heard, and although it meant the house was no longer in silence, Neal felt like crying.

He escaped to the closest Starbucks for a while, and although he had barely eaten all day, the idea of food made him nauseous. He got the largest coffee there was, and sipped it until he managed to calm himself.

He went back to the house to find it in silence again, the driveway still missing his parent's cars. The down floor was now dark, and the only light came through Blaine's window. Why the hell had Blaine spent the whole day by himself? Even when Neal was that age he had had a nanny, although to be fair, at that moment there was also one-year-old Blaine to take care of. But even if Blaine seemed to be responsible and behave twice his age, he didn't deserve to spend the whole day on his own. Neal hadn't seen him smile even once, but of course, there was nobody to smile to.

Furious, Neal left for his hotel back in Columbus, his mind racing. Blaine deserved better. He deserved someone who cared about him. Had he really expected their parents would be any different to him than what they had been to Neal? Because Neal remembered spending entire weeks without seeing them, but he had had his baby brother to keep him company. Now, without meaning to, he was forcing Blaine to grow up alone. And even if he seemed to be doing a lot better than Neal could ever hope, it wasn't fair. Neal was ashamed, but he planned to fix it. He would take Blaine with him if he had to.

The next day when he got to the Anderson house, his mind was on the con. He had never done something like this and he wasn't sure how to prepare, but he had made his mind, and he had enough money to support both of them for a while. Still, would Blaine want to scape with him? Would he even recognize him? How long would it take their parents to find out? How hard would they try to find them? Would they know it was Neal (Cooper, in their minds) who took him? Neal needed to observe and plan.

Blaine was back from school at the same time as the previous day, still carrying a backpack that looked bigger than him, still wearing the face of a tiny adult. This time he ate an apple while he did homework, and when Mr. Jameson showed up, he played Beethoven instead of Tchaikovsky. Unlike yesterday, when he said goodbye to Mr. Jameson his voice was cheerful, and once he was alone, instead of going back to the piano, he hummed his way to the kitchen.

Neal watched somewhat in awe as Blaine stepped on a stool to reach the sink better, and started to wash some vegetables. Then he took a knife and started chopping them with such an attention and precision Neal forgot an eleven-year-old shouldn't even use a knife. Blaine kept humming the whole time, jumping from Beethoven to what seemed to be Britney Spears and back, and Neal was so enthralled watching him we would've missed the sound of the engine turning off in front of the house if Blaine hadn't jumped from the stool, racing to the front door.

"Blaine! Baby, I'm home!" Came the sound of his mother's voice, and Neal had tears in his eyes before he knew it. It was unsettling to realize he did miss her.

"Mama! Come look, I started dinner!" Blaine's voice answered.

"Oh honey, this is great. But you know you shouldn't use the knife when I'm not here to help you. You could get hurt."

"I was careful, I promise. And this time I didn't get close to the oven! And look, the carrot sticks are really thin, just like dad likes them."

Maria Anderson praised his son's cooking skills like any proud mother would. She took over dinner from there, but let Blaine help in everything. Blaine talked about his day at school, about the A he had gotten in his math test, and about Maddy Kensington stumbling in gym class and dislocating her arm. Their mother commented in all the right places, laughed at Blaine's jokes, and talked a bit about her day at the office.

It was Twilight Zone all over again, except this time it was his family that changed. Neal couldn't remember a single talk to his mother that lasted this long, or ever helping with dinner. Hell, his mother didn't use to cook unless it was a holiday.

He was in for another surprise when he heard his dad arriving too. He commented on how good the food smelled, asked if Blaine had done his homework, and retired to the living room to wait for dinner. His father never had dinner with them when Neal lived at home.

It was as if they had become the perfect family now that Neal wasn't there. Was it because of him? Had his parents changed because he left? Or was it his presence that had made his family so distant and grey before? Neal had to bite his tongue to refrain from crying at the thought that they were better without him, even if he had been the one to ditch them. Sure, maybe they did stay late to work some days in which Blaine had to be alone, but his brother seemed perfectly fine with the arrangement.

After dinner his mother took care of the dishes, and Neal heard Blaine ask politely to his father if he could watch the news with him. The last image he got through the window was of little Blaine sitting with their dad, his back perfectly straight and his face serious, looking intently into the TV like he understood the ups and downs of the stock market.

His little brother was well on his way of becoming the son their parents had always wanted, and maybe Neal should be happy for him. Instead, as irrational as it was, he felt as if Blaine had betrayed him.

The one time Neal had unexpectedly stumbled with his past, two years after starting his life in New York, things were better than he could've hoped for. He figured there was a reason why his aunt Ellen had always being his favorite, even if technically they weren't related. They had crossed each other in a random street in Manhattan, but after her initial surprise to see him, she had been nothing but nice.

"It's good to know you are safe, dear. It was quite the uproar when you left, but I always thought your parents should have seen it coming. You were never happy in Westerville."

She had insisted on buying him lunch, and told him a brief story about her selling her partnership in the business she used to run with his parents before moving to Roosevelt Island. Neal could see that she was trying to be polite in her tale, but his parents had obviously been the assholes of the situation. He wasn't surprised.

"But you were always mom's best friend," he said when she finished. "Don't you talk to her anymore?"

"I think leaving was the best thing I could have done to save our friendship." She answered with a kind smile. "The disagreements with your father were becoming too big to ignore. He has always been too proud to take a step back, and lately he's been having the strangest mood swings... Your mother would never go against him, so there was really no other option… I think she was relieved that she wasn't pulled in two different directions anymore. We still keep in contact, of course."

"Are you going to tell them that you saw me?" Neal asked, concerned.

"I don't think stirring that up would be for the best…" Ellen said, choosing her words carefully. "Like I said, your father is too proud, and he wouldn't accept that what happened was his fault too. Everything has settled now… unless you want to go back?"

"That's not even an option," Neal assured her.

She gave him her address and phone number, and pleaded that he called her if he ever needed help. Apparently she knew better than to ask that they keep in contact and Neal was grateful for that. He sort of missed having a family, but maybe he was building one of his own. Mozzie felt like a weird, quirky but loyal older brother, and he was happy now that he had Kate.

Neal gave her his emergency pager number just in case, but he sort of expected she'd never use it. She seemed to understand that Ohio and the Andersons were a thing of his past.

It was almost a year later when his pager beeped with an unfamiliar number. By then his life had fallen apart in a way he couldn't have expected, but was desperate to fix. For a moment he had the flaring hope it would be Kate reaching back to him, so he was rather disappointed when Ellen's voice answered his call.

"It's Blaine," she said immediately, her voice filled with uncertainty. "You were always close, so I thought you'd want to know… he's in the hospital."

"What? What happened?" Neal asked, his blood running cold. "Is he sick? Was it an accident?"

"I'm not sure… it's… I only found out because of my friend on ICU at Westerville Memorial. The nurse, Rosie, remember her? She called me as soon as he was admitted because they couldn't find your parents but she remembered we were friends…"

"When did this happen?" Neal asked, panicking.

"Yesterday. They managed to contact your mother after a couple of hours, so that's good, but I called her this morning and… I don't know, she was behaving strangely. She wouldn't even tell me what happened, but honey, Blaine hasn't woken up. Rosie thinks he was attacked."

He couldn't find a flight back to Ohio until next morning, and even though he reached Westerville by noon, he had to wait until visiting hours where over to get in. He didn't really know what he could do once he managed to get inside, but the needed to see Blaine. He just needed to make sure there was no chance of running into his parents.

He had never impersonated a nurse, but it was just like any other con. Wait, observe, imitate. He managed to sneak a look on Blaine's file a couple of hours later, and was relieved to learn he had woken up that morning and was now out of ICU, even if they were keeping him heavily drugged. He also learned the wounds were believed a result of a fist fight.

It was almost midnight when he managed to sneak into Blaine's room. The sight that welcomed him stole his breath in the most horrifying way.

The boy sleeping in the bed was hooked to more wires than he could count. He looked thin and fragile, his skin an ashen tone, but the worst were the bruises. The whole right side of his face was swollen and purple with a large cut over on his eyebrow, and his left arm was wrapped in a cast. Below that Neal barely managed to recognize his brother.

He took a couple of deep breaths before he managed to walk to the bedside. Who could have done something like this? Had Blaine gotten in trouble, somehow? Neal found it hard to believe that the same boy he saw washing vegetables for dinner years ago would be involved in anything dangerous.

Blaine was sleeping, but it was obvious by the various twitches and whimpers that he was still in pain. Neal fell heavily in the chair next to him, his legs shaking. He was sorely reminded why he hated violence so much, but a bigger part of him felt guilty because he hadn't been there to stop it. Sure, Blaine was no longer part of his life, but he was supposed to be safe. He was supposed to be the piece of his past that he regretted leaving behind, but who was better without him anyway.

He took Blaine's un-casted hand and gripped as hard as he dared, needing to feel his brother alive. For all he thought he had gotten over their parting last time he'd been in Westerville, he realized he was terrified of losing him. Deep inside, he had always thought they would meet again, but he had hoped for circumstances that would give him a chance get back into his life. This he didn't know what to make of. He didn't even know what had happened, but he knew he had to do something to make sure it never happened again.

"Cooper?" Came a barely audible voice, and Neal jumped without meaning to. His heart started to beat wildly on his chest when he raised his sight to Blaine's eyes, finding the same golden-brown pools he remembered below heavy lids. Even with glassy eyes and a battered body, it was still his little brother, and Neal felt himself sniffle. "Coop, is it really you? Am I dreaming?"

"Hey there, squirt," Neal replied, trying to keep his voice from shaking. He failed miserably. "How are you feeling?"

"You are really here," Blaine said with what could probably count as a smile, his voice was soft and breathy. "You came back."

"I heard you were on a rough spot, I wanted to make sure you'd be okay." Neal said, feeling a pang of guilt. He needed to find a way to make it better. "Blaine, what happened? Who did this to you?"

And suddenly, Blaine looked scared. He took his hand away from him and curled onto himself like he was trying to be smaller. It made Neal feel sick. Why would his brother be afraid of him?

"I think it was my fault," Blaine answered, looking away from Neal. "I just wanted to feel normal for a bit. I mean, it was just a stupid dance, so I thought, why not? I thought maybe if I showed them that it didn't affect me what they said… God, I thought I was being brave, and I was just so stupid…"

By this time Blaine had tears running down his eyes, and even though he didn't understand, Neal felt his heart shattering. There was no reason why his brother should look so broken, much less over something as trivial as a dance.

"Shhh, Blaine, calm down. What did you do in this dance? Did you fight with someone?"

"It was them who attacked us! We were just waiting on the parking lot and we hadn't bothered anyone. But I guess taking a boy to the dance was the last push, wasn't it? The fags where showing off so better teach them a lesson, right?"

Neal was speechless at Blaine's outburst, his mind barely keeping up with what he was saying. Finally, his brother's eyes came back to look at him, defiance written all over his face.

"I'm gay." He told him with a wavering voice.

It wasn't at all what Neal had expected, and it took him several seconds to realize why that was relevant. By this point in his life, he had met enough gay people to be used to it, and it didn't make any difference to him one way or another. He didn't get why it should make a difference to Blaine either, except the reason was literally shown on his face.

Oh.

It wasn't something he had ever paid attention to when he lived in Ohio, but he did remember people were not accepting. He remembered about the boys in his school who'd get taunted because they were too feminine, the shoves on the lockers, the punches, the tripping, the name-calling. He had never participated because he hated bullies, but he had never intervened either, because it wasn't his problem. How long had Blaine been on the receiving end of it? How much people had ignored his suffering because they thought it wasn't their problem?

Blaine was still looking at him, and Neal felt dread at realizing that with each second of silence, his expression changed more from defiant to panicked, like he expected Neal to reject him. How many people had rejected him to make him believe that was the norm?

"Blainey," Neal started, as gently as he could, "I may not know exactly what happened, but having to live surrounded by homophobic assholes doesn't make this your fault." He said taking back his brother's hand on his. "There's nothing wrong with being gay, no matter what anyone tells you, okay?"

Blaine's eyes got big and watery. He nodded slowly, and although he still seemed rather unfocused, a tiny, real smile appeared on his lips. But it only lasted a second, after which it was replaced by a deep sob. Before Neal knew how it happened, he had moved to the bed to hold his crying brother.

Soon his shirt got wet under Blaine's tears, big tremors shaking his body. Neal had to wonder how long he had been keeping this inside, and if there was really nobody to support him.

"Hey, it's okay, you're okay." He repeated over and over, feeling inadequate for this task. "Blaine, do mom and dad know about this? About you?" The sobs became bigger, and Neal held him closer, already dreading the answer.

"They won't even look at me anymore," Blaine answered, his voice hoarse and barely understandable. "I told them last year because things were fine, and I thought maybe they wouldn't like it but they are supposed to love me anyway, aren't they? That it would take a bit to get used to it but in the end I'm the same person…"

"They don't… mistreat you, do they?" Neal asked, afraid. He had left Blaine with them. If Blaine was in danger in that house, it would be his fault.

"For that they would have to acknowledge I exist first," Blaine answered, with the tone of someone who has resigned himself to his fate. "Dad got mad at first, saying it was unnatural a devious and wrong. Mom cried a lot. Then dad stopped talking to me and mom… pretends, I guess. That I'm still the son she wants and not whatever it is that I am now. They came to visit me today, so I guess they are a bit worried, but they only really talked to the doctors, so… I didn't tell them I was talking a boy to the dance. I don't think they were very happy to find out."

Neal was glad that in the position they were in Blaine couldn't see him, else he'd seen the rage on his face. It wasn't fair, the way Blaine obviously doubted that his parent loved him. It wasn't fair that he had to be so lonely and miserable over a fact about himself he couldn't control.

"I know it must be difficult right now, but don't listen to anyone who tries to get you down because of this. Not even mom and dad. They're just being idiots. They'll have to come around, but there's nothing wrong with being yourself."

Blaine released himself from Neal to look at him, his eyes blotchy.

"Thanks for coming back. I really need someone on my side right now." He said with a small smile.

The smile that was starting on Neal's face was instantly shot down. This was only a visit, and he had too much going on in New York, things that needed his immediate attention. He hated himself because Blaine should be his upmost priority, but he couldn't really act on it. His life was pulling him in too many directions, but staying in Westerville wasn't one of them.

He couldn't help it when his eyes wondered to the door, attentive of the noises outside. He only had half an hour or so between the nurses rounds, and he was sure he had already used most of it. When his eyes went back to his brother, Blaine's smile was gone, and instead there was a sadness that made him feel hollow inside.

"You're not staying, are you?" Blaine asked.

"It's complicated," was all Neal could think as an answer. He couldn't explain that he was a con man now, that he had a frustratingly good FBI agent on his toes, that he had been chasing his lost girlfriend for months, and that he planned to steal a Rafael next week just to get her attention. He couldn't even explain how his name wasn't Cooper anymore.

"Then take me with you." Blaine replied.

Neal was stunned at the proposal, but the wheels on his head started turning at the possibilities. In a way, it was so tempting. Blaine deserved better than what he was getting here, someone who would accept him and love him no matter what. And maybe Neal could settle down. Peter Burke would never figure that one out, being so out of character for him. He could take Blaine and run, maybe go back to the West Coast. He could find a place where Blaine would feel accepted and safe, where they could live in peace and Neal wouldn't have to watch his back every second.

Except it wasn't really an option. The moment he took Blaine, his brother would have to live running too. He would be involved in all the felonies Neal ever committed, not only because he wouldn't be able to hide them from him, but also because that would be the money that would support them. And beyond that, could Neal really leave his life behind? Could he switch the thrill of the con for illegal custody over a minor? Did he even realize the responsibilities that would convey?

Could he stop looking for Kate, and give her up for good?

The answer was obvious, and it made him hate himself for the first time in his life.

"Blainey, is not that simple…"

"Please, Coop, don't leave me," His brother begged, tears running free one more time, and Neal felt a knot pumping on his throat. "I don't want to here anymore. I don't think anybody wants me here either. Mom and dad keep avoiding me like the plague, my friends are too scared of bullies to talk to me, and I just put the only guy who still treated me like a person in the hospital. They all hate me. Please don't make me stay."

"I can't-" he was cut by the sound of steps down the hallway. It was time for the nurses rounds, and Neal knew he only had a couple of minutes before in was Blaine's turn. He lowered his voice. "I can't explain right now, but you don't want to come with me. It isn't safe, and is not the life you deserve."

"And I deserve this?" Blaine asked, his voice desperate while he motioned to the bruises in his face. "I'm not safe at school either, and I don't even know if mom and dad care. I don't know how to survive this anymore, Cooper. Wherever you are leaving to, it can't be worse."

Neal had tears running down his cheeks too, but it didn't change anything. There were steps on the hallway again, this time closer, and Neal knew it was time to run.

"You have to be strong, Blainey, okay?" He said hurriedly, bending down and posing a quick kiss on his forehead. "You are strong, and you'll get through this."

"No, don't go," Blaine's pleads followed him while he walked away from the bed. "Cooper please, don't leave me again. Please stay."

"I love you, baby brother," Neal choked. "I hope you know I am sorry."

"Please don't–" was as far as Blaine said before his voice broke in sobs again. Unable to stand it, Neal left the room as quickly as he could, knowing there was no going back after this.

He had never cried like he did that night. He thought he'd known real regret when he realized Kate had left him, but it wasn't even close to this.

He felt that in abandoning Blaine when he needed him he had abandoned a piece of his soul. But really, what other option did he have? Blaine was hurt and vulnerable, yes, but that was only another reason why he couldn't just take him, expecting that Blaine would accept everything in his life. For all he knew, Blaine would be repelled when he found out what he'd been doing ever since he left home.

His brother was better off staying, much as it pained him. Still, Neal needed to find a way to make things better, because if he left just like that, he knew the weight of shame would be unbearable.

His parents weren't something he could fix. Actually, he knew that trying would only make things worse, no matter how much he wanted to confront them about everything they were doing wrong. Is not like he had the authority, seeing he was screwing Blaine over as much as them. But Blaine's school situation, well, that was something he could work with.

For a while he entertained they idea of blackmailing someone, the directives, maybe, because they were obviously doing a shitty job if this kind of things happened. But the directives, while part of the problem, could never solve all of it. Moreover, it would be torture to make Blaine go back at all. No, he needed a new school for him; somewhere he'd actually be safe.

Next morning, he began searching. He left out all public education because they obviously couldn't be trusted, which actually left him with very few option that didn't require Blaine having to go out of town. There was St. Clark, which seemed too religious for his liking, and Dalton Academy, which looked a bit too snobbish.

St. Clark had bible classes every week, and Neal didn't think they'd be too forward of accepting gay teens. Dalton Academy had a zero tolerance bullying policy, and that's how it became the instant winner.

He'd thought getting Blaine there would be trickier, but it was actually fairly simple. He had enough money to spare now, and he knew making large donations did wonders on school boards. He immediately called Ellen to explain the issue, and she was more than willing to help with his parents. She had a soft spot for Blaine, but then, everyone had a soft spot for Blaine.

By the end of the day Neal had already broken into Blaine's school to steal all his files, and mailed them to Dalton Academy, complete with a formal request with his father's fake signature, explaining Blaine's situation and his need for a safe environment. Early next morning, once he reached New York, Neal wired the donation to the school board only with the name Anderson as a reference, and waited.

Ellen did his part by phone. She called his mother to talk about Blaine's future, and sneaked the idea of the new school. After that, a much more effective move was to call most of his father's investors and directives, with whom she was still friends, to 'catch up' and randomly mention that James Anderson, being such a concerned father and worried about his son's future, was thinking of transferring him to a private school. She didn't fail to mention, of course, about the amount of great connections young Blaine could make in that place. After all, not everyone was admitted into Dalton's halls.

The grapevine did the rest of the job. Whatever the Andersons thought about it, they would never risk their good name and reputation. They had been trying to keep the attack in the dark as much as they could, but when rumors got around about Blaine's new academic future, they didn't even try to discredit them.

Ellen let him know a week later when Blaine was discharged from the hospital, and once again the next month, when he started attending Dalton Academy.

So when Peter Burke caught him soon after, it really didn't matter. He had helped him find Kate, and had given him enough time to make sure his brother was safe.