Blaine groaned when he heard his alarm go off the next morning. He buried his head under his pillow, hoping that he could ignore the alarm and fall back asleep. When this proved to be inefficient, he rolled off the bed and stumbled to his dresser, swiping his phone and silencing the incessant beeping. As his phone returned to the home screen, he caught sight of his notification bar, which indicated that he'd missed multiple calls.

He sighed and unplugged his phone from the charger, not even glancing down as he opened his voicemail and headed for the bathroom. He was expecting Rachel's voice on the other end, stressing about her pronunciation of a single word. Before he went to NYADA, he had thought his obsession with perfection was borderline insane. Once he met Rachel Berry though, he quickly realized that compared to her, his practice schedule seemed almost sensible.

You have 8 unheard messages. First unheard message:

"Blaine Anderson! You better hope the newspaper I'm holding in my hands right now is lying or you are in a whole mess of trouble."

Blaine furrowed his brows. This definitely wasn't Rachel. Cady, his PR agent, never sounded that agitated. It was one of the reasons they worked so well together, because she always managed to keep calm in the worst situations. He deleted the next message, waiting for it to play.

Message erased. Next unheard message:

"Blaine, seriously I need you to call me back."

"I'm getting calls from the agency. Call me, ASAP."

"Goddamnit Blaine! If I don't hear from you in an hour, I am coming over. And if you aren't home so help me god—"

Blaine didn't even bother going through the rest of the voicemails. He dialed Cady's number and held the phone up to his ear.

It barely rang once when she answered.

"Blaine!" she hissed, "Where have you been? I've been calling you all morning!"

"I'm sorry, the phone was on silent. I only just woke up."

"I'm assuming you haven't seen anything yet then?"

"How bad is it?"

There was a silence on the other line, and Blaine felt something in his heart drop. It didn't matter that he hadn't done anything to put his reputation or job in jeopardy. Rumors enough could be enough to bring him down.

"Apparently someone photographed you and David doing the deed and sent those pictures to every possible magazine that runs theater news. The gossipy ones didn't even bother checking with me before running the story, but I've got ten editors on hold waiting to speak with me and confirm. Ten editors! I told you to be careful. I told you to make smart choices. You're nearly thirty for Christ's sake! He's married!"

Blaine stood on the line, his mouth gaping as Cady continued to chastise him over the phone. David? As in director-of-the-show-David-Kessler? Impossible. By the time he processed the news, she was absolutely livid.

"Cady, calm down."

"FUCK IF I CALM DOWN BLAINE! You could burn for this!Your entire public image is built around the fact that you're the sweet, lovable, wide-eyed, innocent rising star! Some people can get away with this. Like Santana, she could get away with this. But you?"

"Cady! I didn't do it!" Blaine cut in. "I didn't sleep with him! I never have, he's never even offered. Outside of the one morning where we ran into each other and picked up coffee, I've never seen him outside of a professional setting."

Blaine heard Cady huff, and he could practically see her trying to calm down. "You're positive?"

"Yes I'm positive I didn't have sex with my director. I feel like that's something I'd remember."

"Even if you say you didn't do it, the picture kind of claims otherwise. It isn't clear, and heavily shadowed, but it still looks a lot like you. Given that you're in his show, it gives people enough reason to think it is."

"I swear it wasn't me!"

"Okay fine Blaine, but I need you to come in to the office today. There is damage control to be done."

"But I have a show tonight," Blaine responded, picking up his toothbrush from the holder next to the sink.

"I'll do my best to get you out as soon as possible, but I need to see you in person. We'll need a statement from you, a possible press release from the show, and a few other things."

"Alright, I'll be there in an hour," Blaine sighed.

"Quickly, then. I'll see you soon."

Cady hung up before Blaine had a chance to say goodbye. He set down his phone and started getting ready for what he already knew was going to be a long day.

As Blaine left his apartment that morning, he decided that he wasn't going to get through the day if he didn't have some sort of caffeine in his system. Remembering the place from the night before, he headed in its direction.

He absently made his way down the streets of New York, checking his phone each time it buzzed with a new notification. Text after text appeared from people he knew, asking him if the rumors were true. A couple nasty ones not-too-subtly implied that they weren't surprised with the events. Blaine tried not to let those comments get to him. He knew the rumors weren't true. Why let others shame him for something he hadn't done?

When he found the coffee shop, he stepped inside and was greeted by the typical morning rush. Four baristas ran back and forth, pouring coffee and steaming milk and calling out orders. He quickly scanned the workers: one girl and three guys. None of them resembled the man from the night before.

It made sense. Even if this was a 24- hour shop, the employees wouldn't be here for entire days. Blaine waited patiently in line, and ordered his typical medium drip when it came time. He picked up another scone before paying the cashier and hustling back out the door.

As he approached the agency's office building, Blaine noticed a few reporters milling about the entrance. They were never allowed in, but they often hung around hoping to force a comment out of a celebrity or two about the latest scandal. Blaine grimaced and tried to edge around them while keeping his head down.

He held his breath the entire way in, only letting go of the tension once he was safely inside the building. He nodded at the receptionist and made a beeline for the elevator.

He was so focused on getting to Cady's office as quickly as possible, that he didn't notice there was someone else getting on to the elevator with him. He hit the button for the fourteenth floor and began nervously tapping his foot, griping on to his coffee with more force than he should have.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Blaine jumped at the sound, spilling some of his coffee on his shoe. He cursed silently and turned to see a sandy-blond haired man. A guitar case was leaning against his side, and he was tall enough that Blaine had to tilt his head slightly to make eye contact. He couldn't help but think he'd seen his face before, but couldn't pinpoint why he was so familiar.

"Um, yeah. I'm okay," Blaine answered and averted his eyes.

The other man shrugged. "If you say so."

There was a slightly awkward silence as the elevator climbed higher and Blaine tried his hardest to keep himself to nervously fidgeting again.

"You're Blaine Anderson, right?" the other man piped up.

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, that's me."

"No way! I saw you during your show last night!"

Blaine's eyebrows raised in surprise and gratitude. "Really? You saw Laila? You don't seem like th Broadway musical type."

The man shrugged, "Who says there is a type? Anyway, you were amazing. At the end when you had that solo," he whistled. "I wanted to stand up and belt that last note with you. It was so. Good."

Blaine looked at the ground and smiled, "Thank you. I spent weeks trying to get that right."

The elevator slowed to a halt and gave off a soft ping as Blaine reached his floor. Unexpectedly, the other man stepped off with him and began walking in the same direction. Blaine gave him an inquiring look when they approached the door to the PR offices.

"What did you say your name was again?" Blaine asked.

"Sam Evans. Up–an-coming country star who decided it's time to get a PR agent."

Blaine nodded in understanding and opened the glass door in front of him, "Well then Sam Evans, your future awaits..."

Blaine gestured dramatically through the doorway, and Sam laughed as he entered. "Thanks,"

"My pleasure," Blaine smiled. It was short lived, however. The second Cady noticed he was there she stormed over to Blaine and grabbed him by the collar.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, Anderson," she growled.

Blaine gave Sam an apologetic smile as Cady pulled him away, hoping Sam wouldn't be to disgruntled with his sudden departure.

Not twenty seconds later, Cady had all but thrown him into the chair across from her desk and started shuffling through her papers. Her office looked like a disaster, and the blinking red light on the phone indicated that she had someone on hold.

She pulled together a stack of papers and magazines and dropped them in Blaine's lap before sitting in her chair with a huff.

"Now, you say it isn't you, so tell me who it is then?"

Blaine squinted at the picture splayed across the front of the gossip magazine. It did look like him: short, compact stature, and curly hair. The face was indistinguishable, only a fraction of it even turned to the camera. It wasn't him. Blaine knew this for a fact.

He looked at Cady, who—at only nine in the morning—looked like she was ready to get back in bed. "I don't know what to tell you other than what I already said. I know I didn't do it, and this isn't me."

She laid her head on the table and took a few deep breaths. "I know, I know. The problem is that not everyone else does."

"The only people who've printed it are the gossip magazines. No one believes those anyway."

"That's the problem. If it was only you, and only the gossip magazines, it wouldn't be a big problem. But..."

"But what?" Blaine asked when Cady trailed off.

She swiveled around in her chair and picked up a newspaper from the top of her filing cabinet.

The New York Times

"Flip to the Arts section. Front page."

Blaine quickly found the page and scanned the article.

"Dear god please no."

Cady looked up at him, nodding solemnly. "I'm afraid so. She went behind her manager's back and spoke directly to the reporter. As long as she claims it's true, it's taken as is, and it makes your problem a lot more plausible.

Alice. There in the world's most published paper she decided to give an exclusive interview about how she landed the lead role of Laila even if she'd been a lowly ensemble member just a few months before.

Sleeping around, bribing. Apparently the guilt was "eating her from the inside," and she had to tell someone. So she chose to tell everyone.

"I had no idea," Blaine said, letting the papers slump down in his lap. "No idea. She didn't have to do it. She was good enough without it."

"I know, Blaine. We can't worry about her right now, though. I need to get a statement out about you and your lack of involvement."

Blaine nodded, "What do you need me to do?"

"I just need you to read over what I've written, make sure it's accurate, and sign it. We'll release it in an hour or so."

"Alright. I only have about thirty more minutes before I have to go to the studio, though."

"About that Blaine..."

Blaine froze as Cady paused, knowing what she was going to say before she uttered another syllable.

"Laila is being put on a forced hold until this can all be sorted out. You have three more nights and that's it for now. Once there is a new director, production will start again but... I'm already hearing mutterings of a total recast. Everyone has to re-audition, and it looks like they're going to try and replace all the main actors."

"But... they can't. It's my first show. I—" Blaine cut off and felt his face grow hot. "They can't."

"I'm sorry, Blaine. I know it isn't your fault." Cady circled around the table and leaned down to hug him tight. "You're talented, I'm sure we'll find something for you."

Blaine took a moment to collect himself, breathing deeply when Cady let go. "So what about Alice? The next three days?"

"This is what understudies are for."

Blaine bit his lip and nodded. Of course.

Cady gave him one last pat on the shoulder, "I'm going to grab the statement from the printer. I'll be right back, okay."

"Okay," he answered, not feeling okay at all.