Blaine left Plathy's office soon after, and by then it was about time for second session. He didn't say anything as he left the main office, not even offering Ms. Evans a respectful "goodbye" as he pushed open the glass doors once again and entered the empty hallway. The sound of his shoes echoed through the quiet and the noise seemed to reach his ears at an increased volume. He gripped the manilla folder in his hands a little tighter as thoughts raced through his mind faster than he could comprehend them. He shouldn't have been this surprised about the entirety of the situation, considering his background and family, but he was still trying to wrap his head around it. The sheer fact that he had gotten this mission was so overwhelming, he almost questioned whether he was ready for it. Logically though, there was no reason for him to be having doubts, after all, he'd been spending most of his life training for something for like this to come along. He could do this. He was coming up to his second session classroom, but then he hesitated at the closed door, leaning slightly against the doorframe. He didn't think he could concentrate on anything right now, so before anyone noticed he was here, he backed away and continued down to the end of the hallway, where there was a back door that lead to the dorm wing of the school. He had never skipped class before, but he felt like if there was any time to do it, it would be now.

He pushed the door open quietly, peaking his head into the hallway where the long row of dorm rooms was. It was dead silent in the hall, thankfully empty of any students who might be skipping or not in class at the moment. He entered the hallway fully, walking quietly down the hall while making sure to look out for anyone who might suddenly appear. As he approached the front of his dorm room, he reached into the pocket of his bag for the key with the Dalton crest on the chain. He unlocked the door, swinging the door open, and stepped inside. The room looked exactly like he had left it the previous week. The two beds were perfectly made, pushed to the opposite sides of the fairly spacious room. His desk was clean, with only a single black notebook and a lamp on its surface. The keyboard was still up against the wall with a few music sheets on the stand attached to it. He quietly shut the door behind him, remembering to lock it before setting his bag down on the desk chair and the folder on the desk. He went over to his bed and flopped down on his back, staring at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the world before and letting out a long sigh. He just let his mind wander for a while, not really thinking about anything and he closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he realized that he had fallen asleep briefly and looked up at the clock to find that he had slept through another session. At this point, he didn't think that going to class would be worth it, so he just rolled over in the bed and spared a glance around his room. He looked over at his desk with the file sitting on the top. He just stared at it for a moment before he got off the bed, picked it up and brought it back to his bed. He thumbed it open, looking at the contents of the file. Inside was an abundance of things; copies of the letters and pictures of things related to the case, general information compiled by the local police, and information about Burt and his family. Blaine leafed though the papers before stopping on a photo. It was a photo of a boy, presumably of Burt's son. He appeared to be around Blaine's age, but had a boyish look to him. His chestnut blonde hair was combed up into a swish that had Blaine wondering how much product he had to use to get it that way (not that Blaine was one to talk, he practically cemented his hair down to tame his curls). His had these blue eyes that seemed to have accents of green to them, and his pale skin tone seemed to bring them out. He pulled his attention away from the photo to read some general information about him and his family. Soon he had everything spread across his bed, covering the entire surface of it. He had no idea how long he had been looking at it because suddenly, the door was being unlocked and Wes and David appeared, entering the room without realizing Blaine was already in there.

"So anyway, I told Marc- Blaine!" Wes cut himself off as he was greeted with the scene before of him. "Where have you been, we've been worried about you."

"I was sent to Plathy's office… and then I decided I didn't want to go to class."

"And...? You can't just leave it there! What happened?! Since when do you ditch class?!"

"Well..."

"Wait, hold on, no way! You got a field mission didn't you?!"

Blaine opened his mouth to speak as Wes lowered his gaze down to the file spread all over the face of his bed. Blaine quickly piled everything together and stuffed it back into its manilla folder. "If I did, I couldn't tell you. Confidential."

"But you did!" David said with an eyebrow raised and a smile on his face.

"Confidential."

"Yeah, okay Mr. Goody Two shoes."

The two of them took a seat on Wes' bed, dropping their bags on the floor beside them. "How long do you think this'll take?"

"I mean, I fly out tomorrow morning. But after that I have no idea."

"Flying to…?"

"I'll give you all the details when the mission is done." Blaine said as he got up from the bed, reaching for his backpack on the chair to put the file inside.

"You're no fun. I would tell you about my mission if I got one." Wes said, attempting to pull Blaine's signature pouting face but failing dramatically.

"And who has the mission here?"

"You. And you just broke your confidentiality by telling us that!"

"You have no proof," Blaine said with a smirk.

"Ah, but you're not the only one who goes to spy school. It's just a matter of time before someone finds the evidence."

"Right. You think there's evidence to be found. That's cute. You've met me right?"

"Is that a confession?"

"Of course not. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a field mission to pack for!"

And with that, he shoved his friends out the door.

...

The time between receiving his mission and leaving for Lima was refreshingly uneventful. He was thankfully excused from going to any of his sessions (which didn't matter because he had already missed most of them anyway) and spent the rest of the afternoon with his friends at Dalton who he wouldn't be seeing in a while. He packed his bags, said goodbye to his friends (who threw a totally uncalled for but very thoughtful party in his honor), and even visited his parents later that night, who were back from another long but top secret mission from the CIA. It was nice to see them before he had to leave, and knowing that he couldn't tell them anything killed him. Now he was just waiting for the plane that would take him to his new life for the next who knows how many months.

The airport wasn't particularly busy, which wasn't too surprising considering that it was an early Tuesday morning. He glanced around his surroundings. There were only a few people roaming the gate he was currently at. A woman and her baby girl were playing with an iPad, laughing at a cartoon or something on the screen. Another man was sitting in a far corner with his face buried in the hat that was slipping onto his sleeping face. Blaine sighed softly and slouched down into his chair. As he waited for his flight to arrive, he couldn't help but wonder about the boy he was supposed to befriend. He had read as little as possible about him from the file. He figured that if he was supposed to be gathering his own Intel on him, then it would be more efficient to go in with minimal prior knowledge and learn as much as possible through his own observations. It was weird to think that within hours, he would be getting on a plane and starting a new life in another state. He would have new friends, a new bed to sleep in every night, and a new school to attend, while at the same time trying to reveal a psychotic stalker. Man, sometimes he wished he had a normal life. But then again, where was the fun in that?

"Flight 807 to Columbus, Ohio is now boarding. Please allow all first class flyers to board first."

Blaine glanced over to the now open gate and saw a few passengers getting up out of their seats to approach the boarding area. He slowly rose out of his seat, allowing his fellow passengers to board first before taking his spot behind them. He handed his boarding pass to the young woman who was scanning the passes with a nervous glint in his eye. He tried to let it go unnoticed, but he was still in his own world, his mind wrapped around what was to come after he boarded that plane. She smiled at him with a knowing eye.

"Enjoy your flight, Mr. Anderson," she said as she handed him back the ticket. He sent a small smile and a nod in her direction. "I hear Ohio is an interesting place."

"Yeah," he said as he gripped the handle of his suitcase just a little tighter. "So have I."

.0.0.

"Mercedes, I think think something is seriously wrong."

Mercedes Jones turned away from the desk she was sitting at to turn to her best friend, Kurt Hummel, who was spread across his bed in the opposite side of the room. She raised an eyebrow at him and simply crossed her arms. "Explain."

"Everything in this magazine is a total disaster! I mean these colors don't mix well together at all, and there isn't a single thing I would actually wear! And to think, that extra birthday money is burning a hole in my pocket and there isn't a single thing to spend it on," he replied, flipping through the magazine in his hand before tossing it into the pile with other ones on his bed and plopping his face down into his perfectly soft comforter.

"Well, you could buy something for your best friend in the entire world. I hear its her birthday coming up soon too…" she said with an oh-so subtle tone in her voice.

Kurt picked his head up just enough to roll his eyes at his best friend with a sarcastic laugh. "We'll see."

Mercedes just smiled back and returned to her computer on Kurt's surprisingly clean desk. Not that Kurt wasn't an organized person, but when it came to anything Vogue, his desk began to look a little like a fashion designer's wildest fantasy. At one point you could have sworn that he owned every copy of the magazine in every published edition if you looked at the cluttered pile on his desk. He always stayed on top of his fashion, and that gave the knowledge of anything he might ever need to stay at the top of his game.

Kurt tore his eyes from the pile of magazines and went back to his notebook, where his motivation to do homework had completely abandoned him. He was already a good portion of the way done, but his flow of creative juices were slowly trickling to a stop, and he figured that forcing something down on paper would result in a glob of words that wouldn't make much of an impression. "I'm burned out."

"Me too, Larsons' essay is killing me," Mercedes replied, snapping her laptop shut and leaning back into the chair, "Which is why I'm giving up."

Kurt hummed in agreement but before he had the chance to say anything else, a knock on his door silenced him. "Kurt?"

"Yeah dad?" he replied. The door was pushed open to reveal Burt Hummel at the entrance. "Dinner's ready. Mercedes, will you be joining us? Carole's made enough tots to feed an army."

"You had me at tots," Mercedes said with a smile as she spun the in the chair to greet the familiar face.

"Alright, I'll let her know," Burt said as turned to walk down the hallway.

"Wait dad- anything for me?" Kurt said as he motioned to the mail Burt was holding.

Burt hesitated for a moment, sparing a glance at the fistful of letters in his hand. "Ah- no, not this time"

Kurt watched his father's expression change slightly, but it was gone as quickly as it came. "See you downstairs."

Kurt's father left the doorway and proceeded to walk back down the hall. Kurt wondered for a moment about his dad's strange expression. "Huh, that was.. odd."

"He's probably just stressing about the bills. C'mon, I heard there were tots," She said as she rose from the chair and held a hand out to Kurt, who then rolled his eyes but couldn't resist smiling. He graciously took her hand and pulled himself off the bed. Besides, he knew he wouldn't want to keep her from Mercedes from her tots.