"Call me, okay? Every day?" he asked, standing near the Anderson's rental car. His few bags were packed, the boxes having left the DSS storage locker in a truck the previous day.

"I promise. You're gonna be sick of my voice," Syd whispered back, and then hugged him tightly.

Her parents were speaking with the Andersons, giving the two teens privacy to say their goodbyes.

Since the second grade and the beginning of their friendship, they'd never spent more than a few weeks apart, for family vacations or Sydney's summers at sleepaway camp. Now they were facing an indeterminate period of only Skype and phone calls.

"Thank you so much for everything you've done these last weeks."

"It was nothing," she said.

"It wasn't. You did more than anyone else could have. I mean, Brian was giving interviews to the press pretending he was still my boyfriend or something. Meanwhile, your family took me in and you didn't benefit at all."

"Kid," she said, and they both smiled at the new nickname, "can I be really sappy for a minute, like those rom-coms you always say are going to rot your teeth?"

"Just this once, because you deserve to be cheesy," he said.

"Okay. Then I'm gonna say it: you are the best benefit of all of this."

He clutched his stomach in feigned agony and groaned. "Oh my god, that was terrible. I'm going to be sick, that was so corny."

She slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "It's your fault, kid! You can't set me up with a line like that!"

The gathered adults took notice of the raised voices and took it as their cue to move towards the car and say their final goodbyes.

"It was great to meet you both," James said to Paul and Heather, shaking their hands. "Thank you so much for taking care of our boy."

"It's our pleasure. Pe-Blaine has been a wonderful friend to Sydney. We're glad to have him stay with us whenever he wants to visit."

He ducked his head, blushing slightly. He couldn't quite find the words to say everything he was feeling, and knew it was entirely not enough when all he said was a faint, "Bye."

He was seated in the window seat, with Pam beside him in the airplane. The whole airport experience had been surreal. He had never been to one before, and had expected it to be more glamorous than it really was. There was some confusion at security, because he still didn't have a driver's permit. His only photo ID was his school ID, but that had the wrong name. The police had issued him a temporary ID, but the TSA agent had still looked at him strangely. Or perhaps he had just recognized his name from the news.

After all that excitement, he hadn't expected flying to be this boring. Even with the window seat, there was nothing to look at.

He glanced over at Pam nervously, debating if this was a good idea. Finally, he decided to just do it. Eventually he needed to get answers to his questions and it would be even more awkward to ask after he'd been living with them for several months.

Still unsure how to address Pam, since 'Mom' was still an occupied property in his mind, he simply prodded her gently.

"Yes, B?" she said gently.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, anything!"

"But this is going to upset you. Just - try not to be sad, okay?"

Worry creased her brow, but she quickly recovered. "No, sweetie, you can ask me anything and you don't have to be scared. We're a family."

"Okay. Um, I guess, I'll just go for it then," he said, talking himself into it. "What's my middle name?"

"What?"

Cooper and James turned around from the row ahead, obviously listening in.

"I mean my mo – she always told me that my middle name was Jeremiah. But since I guess I'm not, you know, Peter, what's my middle name then?"

"Jeremiah? She said your middle name was Jeremiah? That name sucks," Cooper joked, trying to bring back some of the jovial atmosphere from when everyone had watched his awe-filled reaction to the first moments of flight.

"It was my grandfather's name. Or, well, her father's name."

"Oh, right," Cooper said, ashamed. "Sorry."

"Devon," James said suddenly, obviously trying to cut the tension and change the topic.

"What?"

"Your name is Blaine Devon Anderson."

He thought about the name in his head for a few minutes, and then looked up again. This time, the Andersons were expectantly waiting for his question.

"And what about your parents? My… grandparents?" The word fell clumsily from his lips. "What are their names? What are they like?"

"Well," Pam said, "my parents - your Grandma and Grandpa - live near us in Westerville. It's actually where I grew up. They're very much looking forward to seeing you again."

"Same with your Nana and Poppop on my side," James added "But they live a little further away, in Pittsburgh. It's only a couple of hours away from our house in Ohio, though. Maybe when you're more comfortable, we can go on a road trip."

He nodded, mentally making notes of the specific names for his grandparents. "And we lived in Philadelphia when I was a kid, right?"

Pam seemed hesitant when she answered, as if she was anticipating what his next question would be. She probably wasn't wrong, either, he figured. "Yes."

"So why did you move?"

There was a long silence, for once not entirely caused by him.

"Well, after you were - after you were taken," Pam began carefully, "it was really hard for us. Everything reminded us of you. We didn't have family close by, so when your dad got a job offer in Ohio, we moved."

He wanted to ask, But what if I'd remembered your address and came looking for you? but he could see the dread in each Anderson's eyes. They'd all had that thought, they'd all been plagued by worry that they had abandoned their child. He didn't need to bring it back up.

"Ohio's great, though," Cooper added, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "My school - I'm sure that's where you're going to go - was seriously great. I met some of my best friends there. Plus, the house in Westerville is way bigger and has a better yard than the one in Philly did."

He'd needed to know all that, but the tension from asking such basic questions, of trying to file away information about himself still remained after they deplaned. Paired with the expectancy of the grand return "home," and everyone was on edge, not just him.

When the cab pulled up to the house in Westerville, it was swarmed with curious neighbors and news crews alike, and he felt his eyes widening at all the attention he garnered.

"Are they all here be-because of me?" he asked, even though he knew the answer. He thought the frenzy had died down in the month since the news broke.

"Don't worry," James said. "The police are taking care of the crowds. They'll die down soon enough, and then we can get back to normal."

He snorted. "Normal. Right."

"Squirt," Cooper scolded slightly, but it was Pam who stopped him with a soft, "Not now, Cooper."

When they entered the house, everyone seemed to become anxious, expectant. He looked around at their faces, but they were impassive, impossible to read. "...What's going on?" he asked.

"There's something we want to show you," Pam said, and the three Andersons walked over to the staircase.

Together they walked down a hallway, past two bedrooms that looked lived in and a bathroom, before stopping at the last door. "This is your room," Pam said quietly.

He looked up at them, confusion spread across his face, biting his lip. "But – I – we lived in Philadelphia back then. Why do I have a room here?"

"We wanted to always have it ready for whenever you came home."

He stepped forward and pushed open the door. The room was sparse, but still decorated and filled. But what caught his eye was the red racecar bed in the corner. He slowly approached and bent over to touch it, to make sure it was real.

"I remember the day I got you that bed," Pam said, a sad smile on her face. "I took you with me to the furniture store because we needed a new couch, and I figured you wouldn't get too bored with an endless selection of chairs and couches to climb on. But you found that right away and refused to get up."

"I came home from school and it was in my room," he said faintly, pulling memories from the darkest corners of his mind.

Cooper, Pam, and James exchanged excited looks. He didn't have the heart to tell them that it was probably a fluke.

Dalton's 9th Annual Hope for Blaine fundraiser had been their biggest yet, and they had already progressed far into the planning process for the 10th Anniversary event when the news broke. The planning team scrambled to figure out how they would adapt when they got the news that the Andersons had contacted the Dean.

Blaine Anderson was coming home and would be enrolling in Dalton Academy, following in his brother's footsteps.

Though school wasn't in session, the Dalton community was still tight-knit, and whispers spread far and wide.

Less than a week after the Andersons had returned to Ohio, all four of them were seated in the Dean's office. He thought it was a bit odd that there was so much pomp and circumstance around every little thing he did. He didn't need an entire posse each time he went somewhere or did something new, but the family apparently didn't get the memo.

"Well, Blaine, on behalf of everyone here at Dalton, I'd just like to say that we are thrilled to welcome you here. Everyone who steps through Dalton's doors becomes like family, and we are pleased that part of our family has returned safely," the Dean announced. He seemed like a nice enough man, though perhaps had an ego larger than that of most high school principals.

"Now, all your records were faxed over to me from your old school, and everything looks good. We should be able to enroll you in the same classes that you were slated to take back in Sacramento. Dalton's curriculum is certainly strenuous, so if at any time you are feeling too pressured, you can always come to us and we will make sure to help you out."

Pam and James talked with the Dean about logistics for a few minutes while he looked down at his lap. Sure, Dalton was gorgeous and it seemed a bit like Chilton from Gilmore Girls, but… it wasn't the same. There would be no Sydney. No familiar faces at all. The uniforms just seemed so stiff, and everyone knew who he was.

"Blaine? What do you think about that? Blaine? Blaine!"

His head shot up and he smiled weakly. "Sorry, still getting used to that," he muttered, ignoring the pained looks on his family's faces. "What were you saying?"

"I was wondering if you think this will be a good fit," the Dean said kindly. "I know it must be stressful and confusing for you right now, but we all want what's best for you. We don't want school to be another worry on your plate."

Truthfully, he was scared to start school here. Dalton was intimidating. The expectations from the Andersons were intimidating. The pressure from, seemingly, the entire world was intimidating. But he didn't really have much of a choice. "Yeah, whatever. I mean, I'm good. It's fine."

"Alright then," the Dean said. "Your schedule and locker assignment will be mailed to your home by the end of the week, and classes will start next Tuesday. Unfortunately, you missed the new student orientation, but I'm sure your brother still knows his way around Dalton. Cooper, would you like to give Blaine the grand tour so he doesn't get lost on his first day?"

"Gladly. It's been too long since I was last here," Cooper said with a grin. "C'mon Squirt."

Pam and James stayed behind with the Dean while he followed Cooper down large, empty hallways that looked like they belonged in a Victorian manor rather than a prestigious boy's school. He was sure he'd never remember everything that Cooper was saying, especially since he was barely bothering to listen.

"And this is my favorite room," Cooper said, opening a door on a large lounge-like room. There were several comfortable looking couches and chairs, a large piano in the corner, and floor-to-ceiling windows that let in plenty of natural light on the opposite wall. He was about to follow Cooper in when they both noticed, seemingly at once, a flurry of movement as three boys stood up from the table they had been gathered around.

"Can we help you?" the tallest of the three said. All of them seemed slightly suspicious until they looked closer at the brothers.

"Oh - oh my God, I'm sorry. You're - you're -" he stuttered, eyes locked on him.

"Cooper Anderson," Cooper took over before the situation became too awkward. "And this is my little brother."

"I know," the tall boy whispered. Catching himself, he quickly added, "I mean, we've all read the papers and seen the –"

"Yeah, I get it," Cooper said, cutting him off. "Is this still the Warblers practice room?"

"Yeah," the boy said, glad to finally have something to talk about and keep him from rambling. "I'm Sebastian Smythe. This is Nick Duval and David Thompson. We'll be leading the Council this year."

"How have the Warblers been doing lately?" Cooper asked, trying to keep the conversation neutral.

"Well, we haven't made it past regionals in a few years," David said. "But we keep busy with retirement home and school assembly performances. And the fundraiser, obviously, is a big part of our season."

"Are you thinking about joining the Warblers, Blaine?" Nick asked politely. "We're always excited when we get legacies."

"I'm sorry, but what are the Warblers?" he asked, the first words he'd uttered since leaving the Dean's office.

"Oh, right, I can't believe I didn't tell you about them already, Squirt!" Cooper said. "They're the a cappella show choir here. I was a member and occasional soloist during my time at Dalton, though I never made it to the Council."

"Oh."

"Do you sing?" Sebastian asked pointedly.

"Um, yeah, I guess. I mean, sometimes. I was in chorus and stuff back hom- back in Sacramento, but I don't know…"

"You should totally join, legacies get automatic auditions even if we aren't holding any. I'm sure if you're half the talent Cooper is, you'll get in," David explained while Nick nodded eagerly behind him.

"I - um - maybe," he said hesitantly.

"Great," Cooper said, patting him on the shoulder. "Anyway, we should probably head back to our parents, but it was great meeting you guys."

He followed Cooper back through the halls of the school, not really paying attention to his surroundings. Everything was just too strange. He'd thought that he'd be able to handle this. But he was so, so wrong. He just wanted to go back home.

That night, after dinner, he called Sydney. As soon as she answered, as soon as he heard her voice saying, "Hey kid!" he felt the tightness in his chest release. A sigh passed his lips and he smiled slightly. Even though everything was so wrong, this was still right.

"Hey Syd," he finally said.

"What's wrong?"

"What? Nothing's wrong. Why does something have to be wrong for me to call you?"

"Well, firstly, that was the most defensive response I've ever heard from you. But more importantly, I know you, kid. Just because your name is different doesn't mean you're different. I know how you sound when something's bothering you. So spit it out."

"That," he said. "That's what's wrong. I am different. It's not just calling me Pete instead of Peter or something. Blaine comes with a whole lot of different baggage than Pete did. I mean, they're nice people and all and the house is nice and the school is nice but I just – is it wrong of me to wish everything could go back to normal? I mean, mom was never a bad parent or anything –"

"Other than the fact that she wasn't your mom. She kidnapped you."

"But I was happy with her! I don't know these people and they have all these expectations that I'm going to be their son but I'm not a four year old, and that's what they wanted. I don't know anything or anyone here and I just feel so… so... I feel like I'm an animal in a zoo and everyone is staring at me and I just want to go back to the wild where I came from!"

"Pete…" It was the first time she'd slipped up since the meeting back at DSS in Sacramento.

"And there's that! I don't even know my own name! I don't feel like Blaine and I don't feel like Peter anymore and I just - I need you, Syd."

"Oh, honey, I'm here for you. I mean, I'm still in Cali, but you can call me whenever."

"What's it been like back there? Since I left, I mean?" He knew that while he'd been with the Johnsons, they'd been cut off from much of their lives due to him. Now that he was gone, they must be back to normal.

"Not much has changed. I mean, we don't see reporters at all anymore. I had the Student Council retreat the weekend after you left and they were all asking me about you, but people dropped it once I said I wasn't going to gossip. Even Brian has stopped trying to get his fifteen minutes of fame. Dick."

"I can't believe I dated him. I trusted him and then he turns around and does all that?!"

"God, why is it always the pretty ones that disappoint you?" Syd mused.

He chuckled, and then heard a floorboard creaking in the hallway outside his door.

"Hey, Syd, I've got to go. I think the… my parents want to talk," he said. The words felt foreign on his tongue. He'd never had parents to complain about before, just his mom.

"Sure, Kid. Talk tomorrow?"

"Of course. Love you!"

"Love you more!"

As he hung up, James and Pam knocked on the partially open door, but waited for him to acknowledge them before entering the room. "You didn't have to hang up on our account," Pam said.

"I know."

There was an awkward pause.

"We weren't trying to listen in," James started slowly, and his heart stopped. They had heard his private thoughts, how he missed his mom (Marilyn, you'd gotten so good at calling her Marilyn before) and didn't feel right with them. "But that's actually what we wanted to talk about."

Were they going to send him away? Did things feel wrong to them too? Were they giving up this quickly? It surprised him how much that thought worried him, despite how much he missed how easy everything had been before.

"We know this isn't easy for you," Pam said. "It isn't easy for any of us, and you're the one who's most impacted. We thought that once you're more settled in here, we might start some therapy."

"The social workers back in Sacramento and here all recommended it. They think family therapy would be really helpful. And individual therapy for you as well."

"It's going to be a long process, and we want to be able to help you as best as we can," Pam said. "We love you so much, and we want you to be happy and comfortable."

He sat in silence. He could almost feel the tears coming, but blinked them back. "Yeah," he said. "I'd be okay with that."

"Good. Just let us know when you're ready, and we'll make the calls," James told him. "We're so happy to have you back, son."

Son. There's something, deep in every little boy, that just wants a dad. He'd never had one before, not that he could remember. Marilyn had never talked about his dad, and he'd learned to never ask. Replacing a mom that he'd known with one he didn't, even if she was the real one and the loving one, was tough. But filling a hole, satisfying a longing he'd always had but never vocalized? That was a little bit easier.

First day of school nerves had never been this bad.

He stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom (the racecar bed had been quickly replaced with a normal, adult-sized bed) and adjusted his stiff uniform blazer. His tie sat discarded on the floor in a pile. He'd given up on it in disgust after too many unsuccessful attempts at tying it on his own. He'd only ever worn clip-on ties before, or had someone else pre-knot one for him.

Maybe he could get away with just not wearing it. Certainly the school wasn't that anal about their uniform policy.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Cooper stepped through.

"Hey, Squirt," he said. "Ready for your first day?"

He nodded stiffly.

"You're lucky. My first day at Dalton was halfway through the semester and it sucked. I was so confused and the classes were studying different things than I'd been studying at my old school. And I didn't have a famous big brother to give me a private tour."

He snorted a little at Cooper's comment. Cooper always seemed to know what he needed to hear to ease some of the tension in his shoulders.

"Anyway, you better come downstairs now before mom drags you down. She loves any excuse to celebrate special events and made, like, enough pancakes for the entire city."

He nodded and picked up his backpack and tie from the floor. Cooper's eyes traveled from the backpack to the tie, not commenting on either.

The backpack had been a bit of a point of contention in the family – nearly becoming the first argument since he'd returned. It was old, and it was a relic of his time as Peter. Though he and Marilyn had never traveled by airplane or gone on elaborate, expensive family vacations, they had managed to go on several memorable road trips when she'd gotten time off of work and saved up enough money. The backpack reflected those happy memories with patches from the cities and parks they'd visited sewn all over it. He loved it, because the places were still the same even after his world had been rocked. It was a testament to the fact that some things were constant in his suddenly ever-changing life.

The Andersons hated it because it was a reminder of everything they'd missed out on doing with him.

"You should ask dad for help with your tie," Cooper said, not dredging up the backpack conversation. "I think he'd really like that."

He appreciated that Cooper didn't tease him for not knowing how to do it. And he loved the warmth that flooded through his body as he and his father stood in front of the hall mirror, learning to tie a tie. This was such a simple moment, one he was sure every boy got with his own dad. And now he got it too.

Unfortunately, the calm warmth quickly evaporated as he stepped out of the safety of the Anderson's car in front of Dalton Academy. If it had been intimidating while empty, it was ten times scarier with boys of all ages running and shouting and generally just taking up space.

Pam and James were both sitting nervously at the kitchen table. The tension in the room was palpable as they stared at the cell phone resting in the middle of the table.

"It's too soon," Pam said finally.

"Pam, he's a grown boy. He'll be fine."

"But what if the other boys tease him?"

"Dalton has a zero tolerance policy, remember?"

"What if he gets scared?"

"He has his phone. He knows he can call us or Sydney or go to the counselor."

"James, I can't do this."

"Blaine's been going to school and coming home every day for years, Pam."

"Yes, but that was with that woman. What if... what if he doesn't come home again? I don't ... I can't –"

"Shh, honey, I know," James said, getting up from his chair and walking around the table to comfort his wife. "This is terrifying. But we can't crowd him. We're scaring him. We need to let him trust us at his own speed."

"We're his parents. He shouldn't have to learn to trust us."

"There's a lot of things that shouldn't have had to happen. But we just have to make everything work as smoothly as possible with the cards we were dealt. Just remember to be thankful that we have him back."

"You're right," Pam said faintly, eyes drifting to the pile of boxes in the corner that were filled with memories of a life her son had lived without her.

He could feel the stares on his back in the hallway, but no one approached him. He'd actually managed to make it through the entire morning without speaking to anyone. There had been a slight hiccup in his first class of the day, when the teacher taking attendance had called out, "Blaine Anderson!"

No one had responded.

"Blaine Anderson?"

It wasn't until he noticed the other students staring at him that he remembered. That's him.

"Oh, right – sorry. Here," he'd said, turning red in the face.

After that, he'd made sure to pay extra close attention during attendance so that he wouldn't draw attention to himself or slip up again.

Now it was his lunch period, and he was grateful that Pam had packed him lunch to bring from home, because he didn't want to deal with waiting in the line and bumping shoulders with the other boys in the dining hall.

He found an empty table and sighed. Was he going to be this lonely for the rest of his life? He couldn't imagine being able to trust anyone enough for a long time, if ever.

He unpacked his lunch and began slowly munching on his sandwich. He didn't remember ever talking to Pam about this, but somehow she had known that peanut butter and banana sandwiches were his favorite. Underneath the sandwich was a folded piece of paper:

Hope your first day is going well, Blaine. If you have any trouble, just call me, your dad, or Cooper. Love you!

Marilyn had rarely packed him lunches and never left little notes for him.

It was all too much.

These people barely knew him and they loved him so much.

He couldn't finish his sandwich. He shoved everything back into his lunch bag messily, and got up. He couldn't get out of the dining hall fast enough. He rushed through the halls until he found an empty alcove in a quiet hallway, and he pulled his phone from his pocket.

Syd picked up before the end of the first ring.

"Hey, kid. You okay?"

"How are you so calm?"

"Right now? I just spent an hour painting in Ms. Darnell's 90-degree classroom, so I think the fumes might have gotten to me."

"No - about all of this."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you find out your best friend was kidnapped when he was four and is actually someone totally different, he moves away and has an existential crisis, and you're just … you."

"Do you need something else?"

"What?"

"You need me. You need me acting like me. Believe me, I am freaking out plenty with my parents, but I'm trying to support you. So I can't very well freak out because then you won't let yourself freak out and you definitely need to freak out. I'm the only person you're sure you know, so I'm the one you'd freak out to."

"Oh."

"I told you I know you."

"...Thanks."

"Anytime, kid."

They talked for the rest of his lunch period, about nothing and everything. Minutes before the bell rang, he heard footsteps approaching.

"Sorry, Syd, but we're not supposed to be using our phones. I've gotta go!"

"Of course. Call me later!"

He was just sliding his phone into his bag when a teacher rounded the corner.

"Now I know you know cell phone use during school hours is restricted since I just heard you say that to whomever you were talking to. So do you have a really good story for me?" the teacher asked.

He sat in muted shock for a moment. The teacher wasn't staring at him like he was anything special. He was just a normal student.

"I - uh - I was nervous because it's the first day?" he said, uncertainty in his every word.

"That's no excuse," the teacher said not unkindly. "Now I know it's the first day, but I'm still going to have to confiscate your phone. You can pick it up in the main office at the end of the day."

He placed his phone in the teacher's outstretched hand as he stood up. "Thank you," he said softly.

The teacher looked shocked. "I think that's the first 'thanks' I've ever gotten for taking a student's phone," he mused.

"Yeah, but you treated me like any other student," he pointed out. "Not like some special kid who might break or disappear again or needs to babied or whatever. So thanks."

The teacher chuckled lightly as the bell rang. "Need any help getting to your next class?"

His last class of the day was computer sciences. When he walked into the classroom he was pleasantly surprised to see the teacher that had confiscated his phone. He felt like this was someone who was on his side entirely, and he thought back to Laura the social worker's "team Peter" pep talk back in the police station before everything had turned upside down. Maybe he needed to build a team for whoever he was now.

After the final bell, he went to collect his phone from the front office and met Cooper outside. He was actually surprised to find that Pam and James hadn't insisted on coming along to pick him up from school.

"Just a warning," Cooper said, "mom gets super into first days of school."

He nodded. "Yeah, the mountain of pancakes this morning kinda gave that away."

"Oh, that? That was nothing. I mean she gets really excited. I have lived every first day of school of my life at least twice because she demands a play-by-play analysis. She's not, like, a helicopter mom usually, so I don't know why school gets her so frenzied. I mean, even in college, she called me every semester. She nearly recruited my roommates to take 'first day' pictures of me."

His jaw dropped a little thinking about trying to tell Pam everything. His mom had cared enough. She would ask how his day was, if his classes seemed hard, if he would see his friends enough during the day. She would remind him not to go wandering off after school. And then that would be it. Maybe ten minutes tops.

He wouldn't tell Pam about forgetting his name.

That first week of school was both agonizing and liberating. He knew his parents worried about him constantly when he was out of the house, but they weren't smothering him as much by the end of the week. Plus, they were both scheduled to head back into work, so they'd at least have something to occupy their minds during the day. Cooper helped, but he was going to have to go back to LA soon.

He still hadn't really made any friends at Dalton, but he'd started talking to people at least. His lab partner in chemistry invited him to eat lunch with him and his friends, so he didn't need to rely on Syd at noon anymore. Mr. Hoffman, also apparently the Warblers advisor in addition to the computer teacher, extended an invitation for him to audition for the Warblers when the audition sheet was posted. He wasn't going to, but it was nice to be asked.

Of course, things couldn't fall into place that easily.

While school was starting to become more normal, home became a source of anxiety.

It didn't make sense. He'd never lived here before and all the memories of a home with the Andersons, if they existed at all, were in Philadelphia. But something about this home kept him up at night. And when he did sleep, it was shallow and interrupted by nightmares that he could never quite remember.

The days bled together, routine and lack of sleep causing him to barely be able to differentiate one day from the next. Until one day, he found himself surrounded by his family in the living room and they were all giving him concerned, expectant looks.

"Sorry?" he said.

"We asked if you've been talking with Syd lately," Pam said softly. "Paul and Heather said that she's worried about you."

"Who isn't," he muttered under his breath.

"Your mother and I have been talking," James said, "and we think it would be a good time to start looking into beginning therapy. If you're ready?"

He didn't know if he was, but he was too tired to start that discussion so he just nodded.

The first couple appointments were the easiest because both therapists, the individual one just for him and the one who had to deal with the whole family, were just trying to gather information. It was harder than he'd thought it would be, to try to sensibly describe his family and friends – because he still felt like he was floating alone between two different worlds. But at least that was just based in fact, on concrete evidence. It was when the therapists finally had a good base of knowledge and really wanted to get to know what you're feeling that it became difficult.

He didn't always know what he was feeling, and if he could manage to put it into words, he certainly couldn't say why he was feeling that. But that seemed to be all that the therapists wanted to know.

And then, of course, when he could manage to put it all into words, all it seemed to do was hurt his parents.

Therapists didn't like to shy away from the tough topics, he quickly learned. The family therapist had quickly picked up on how uncomfortable names made him.

"Why don't you like to be called Blaine?" he asked one session.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"If it's so obvious, why don't you tell me?"

"I dunno…"

"I think you do know."

He'd sighed deeply, rolled his eyes, and tried looking to the others for help, but they weren't going to jump in and save him from this.

"It's just - I was Peter for a really long time, you know? And it's hard to just suddenly switch. I'm trying, but there's a part of me that's … scared, I guess. I know you guys really wanted me back and everything and she did kidnap me, but I was happy there. And I don't really know what I'm doing anymore."

Pam had looked like she wanted to cry when he said that.

"This isn't my home," he admitted quietly. "At least not yet. And I miss my home. Everything here is so perfect, and you guys are great, but it's just not what I'm used to."

"Getting used to change takes time," Dr. Wolfe said. "No one is asking you to change overnight, or to be a different person. Your parents want you, just as you are. And they want you to be happy."

Pam reached over to grab his hand at that, smiling and nodding. Even if he couldn't think of her as mom yet, he held on to her grip like a lifeline. It felt like love.

Then Dr. Wolfe had shattered the moment by asking why he never talked about his parents, at least not directly.

"I don't want to say. Can't you pick on someone else today?" he'd complained.

"Why do you think I'm picking on you?"

"Because you're only talking to me!"

"Blaine, we all know why your family is here today. I think you know why I'm asking you these questions."

He pulled his hand from Pam's and slumped back in his seat. "It's just going to make them more sad," he finally said in a small voice.

"They can take it, squirt," Cooper finally chimed in. "They've got thick skin. Me, I'm an actor, I need everyone to love me. So go easy on me. But mom and dad just want what's best for you."

"I guess… that's it, though, isn't it? I – I know you guys are my parents. I know it. But I just – I can't think of you as mom and dad, especially because –"

"Because she's still mom to you?" Pam finished.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking down and nodding.

"Honey," she said, lifting his chin. "I will never forgive that woman for taking you from me, but it's not your fault. You were so young and so scared, and you did what you had to do. I'm glad that you were able to grow up happy and I don't blame you at all. You are not the bad guy here."

"I just don't know if I can think of her as the bad guy either," he admitted. "At least not yet."