Blaine didn't think about the milk carton again for weeks. He immersed himself in his senior year, rehearsing with the Warblers and making sure he got off to a good start with his grades. He spent time with his parents; Blaine helped his dad rake the leaves and helping his mother with packing away the summer stuff in the house while getting the winter stuff out of the attic.

It was on one such attic trip that the milk carton was brought to his attention again. His mother had sent him upstairs with a few boxes of summer clothes to tuck in the corner of the room when he'd caught sight of the trunk in the back. He'd forgotten all about it, his eyes trailed over the wood as he moved closer to it.

There was a large "B" impressed into the wood, and Blaine opened it, smiling. In the back of his head, he hoped he would find baby photos and other things that would make his fleeting doubts about things go away. He found some clothes and some art and a few photo albums, but nothing from before Blaine was around four.

Blaine didn't want to think about that could mean and turned to the trunk next to his. It was oak as well and had a large "C" imprinted on the top. It was Cooper's trunk – filled with the things that his parents had kept after Cooper had passed away. He'd never looked inside it, only asking his parents what it was once when he was younger. The temptation was too good, and Blaine couldn't help himself – he moved in front of the trunk and lifted the lid.

Blaine smiled, reaching inside and pulling out the stuff on top. It was artwork, all done by Cooper; his brother's name was scratched out in a child's scrawl. There was a family portrait and a train and something that might have been a flower. There were some of Cooper's shirts and some blue ribbons and trophies from school. A Dalton Uniform was in the bottom, complete with tie. Blaine hadn't even known Cooper had gone to Dalton. He was just putting everything back in when he saw it. A piece of fabric, tucked in behind the uniform.
Blaine pulled on it, curious and then nearly dropped it when he realized what he was holding.

In his hands was a bowtie. A child's bowtie. The same exact bowtie worn by the boy in the picture on the milk carton.

Blaine felt like he'd been punched in the gut. A moment ago the attic had felt light and homey and he'd been missing a brother he'd never known.

Now it was oppressive and heavy and he was holding this bowtie and he didn't know what to do.

"Blaine?" his mother's voice called up to him. "You okay?"

"I'm fine!" Blaine shouted back after a moment. He shoved the last of Cooper's things into the trunk and closed the lid. He glanced at the bowtie still clenched in his fist and shoved it into his pocket before he could think better of it.

He clattered down the attic steps and brushed passed his bewildered mother.

"Honey, are you okay?" she asked, sounding concerned. "Your face looks flushed."

"I'm fine, Mom," he managed, pausing in the hallway. "I just got hot or something. I'm going to go take a break, okay?"

She nodded and Blaine almost felt guilty for lying to her – almost. Maybe it was her who was lying to him.
He went into his room and shut the door, turning on the fan as a cover. Blaine stepped over to the bookshelf and ran his finger along the titles, stopping on his favorite Goosebumps book, The Ghost Next Door. He slid the book out and opened it up, the flat milk carton sliding out to the floor. He'd hidden there that day when he'd gotten home, wanting to put it somewhere out of sight.

He needed it now, needed to see if it was real or if he was making things up. Needed to know if he was losing his mind or if maybe the world had gone insane and his parents were actually kidnappers. Blaine picked up the milk carton and sank down onto his bed, pulling the bowtie out of his pocket.

He stared at the picture and then at the bowtie.

They were the same one.

There was no mistaking that, the same exact pattern and everything.

Blaine didn't know what to feel. He was sort of numb, just sitting there and staring and not knowing how to incorporate the evidence right in front of his face.

*

"Mama, want," Blaine said in a little voice. He was holding a bowtie in his chubby fingers, his little legs carrying him over to his mother. "Want."

"Not right now, Blaine," his mother's voice said, sounding frustrated. "Can't you stop touching things for five seconds? Julie's shoes aren't going to try themselves on."

"Mama, want." Blaine stomped his foot.

"No, Blaine, go put it back," his mother ordered.

Tears welled up in Blaine's eyes. He wanted it. He scuffed his new shoes along the carpet of the shoe department, sniffling as he walked back to the bowtie rack in the corner where kid's accessories started.

Blaine shot straight up in bed, panting for air.

He was covered in sweat, the warm afternoon air having turned humid. His oscillating fan wasn't cutting it, apparently. Blaine sat up, his hands shaking. The milk carton lay on the bed beside him and the bowtie was in his lap.

He remembered stretching out on the bed, wondering what to do about them; he didn't remember falling asleep.
The remnants of the dream washed over him as he sat there, trying to catch his breath. He'd been talking to someone, someone who wasn't his mother but he'd definitely called her that. And who the hell was Julie? He didn't know any Julies – not even when he'd been in public school.

Blaine ran his hands through his hair and stood up. Clearly, he needed to get some answers. He stared down at the carton and the bowtie and then moved toward his closet. He opened the door and moved a few things around, finding an empty shoe box. He shoved the items inside and then slipped it back up onto the top shelf, before backing out and shutting the door.

He sighed and then picked his laptop up from the corner of his desk. He had to get out of there.

*

It was easy to get out of the house for the afternoon, telling his parents that he needed some books from the library for a paper for school. He only felt remotely guilty when his dad dropped him off outside, waiting until his father was out of sight so he could dart across the street to the coffee shop advertising free WIFI. He supposed he could have actually gone into the library, but he had a feeling that Google and internet searching would actually get him further at this point.

Blaine ordered a coffee from the barista and then took a seat at the nearby table to set up his laptop. He plugged it in (no sense in letting he battery die), and turned it on. They called out his name for his coffee and he went up to the counter, grabbing some cinnamon and a few stir sticks on his way back to the table. He doctored his coffee for a few minutes, putting off the inevitable.

Finally though, he couldn't put it off anymore. He pulled the milk carton out of his satchel and opened up his web browser.

He started with a basic search; he Googled Blane Danvers to see what would come up.

Apparently there was a Blane Danvers who was a ski instructor in Colorado. He bit his lip and narrowed his search, adding in the state to the search bar.

Jackpot.

He tried a few of the links but they weren't quite what he was looking for. He needed details. He went back to the search bar and added in the year that Blane had disappeared. He started by clicking on a link to the Lima Daily News, getting led to a photocopy of an article.

The article was accompanied by the same picture on the milk carton, and Blaine stared at it for a moment before looking at the article. He skimmed it, then sat back and stared at his screen before reading it again, slower this time.

-Lima, OH.

Just before 7pm last night, tragedy struck the Danvers family at the Lima Mall. Elaine Danvers, mother of Julie and Blane, had taken her children shopping for new shoes when the unthinkable happened – Blane wandered off.
"He was there one moment and gone the next," Elaine said, when police asked her what had happened. The mall was shut down for over an hour as part of Code Adam while officers went from store to store, looking for the lost boy. When every store had been searched thoroughly the police spread out, searching the parking lots and nearby neighborhoods for any sign of Blane.

Blane is approximately 40" tall, weighing about 43lbs. He was last seen wearing a black polo shirt with a black and white patterned bow tie and blue jeans.

Police haven't confirmed if someone might have taken the boy, or if there are any suspects at this time.

Michael Danvers showed up as police were questioning witnesses who might have seen anything, and only had this to say as he comforted his distraught wife, "We love our son. Please, if you have him or you know where he is... we just want him home."

If you have information about Blaine's whereabouts, or saw him at the Lima Mall last night, please call the police tip line. All calls are anonymous.

Blaine took a sip of his cold coffee, making a face. The article told him what happened, sort of, but Blaine needed more information. An idea struck him and he pulled out his phone, dialing the number on the newspaper website.

"Hi," he said when someone answered. "I'm not sure who I need to speak with, but I'm trying to get some photocopies of older articles."

Blaine waited while he was transferred to another department, the hold music keeping his attention as he tried hard not to think about what he was doing.

"How can I help you?" a voice on the line startled him.

Blaine quickly explained that he was doing a school project on the Blane Danvers disappearance and wanted to get copies of the articles related to it.

"One of Lima's most famous unsolved cases," the woman he was talking to told him. "We've got tons on it."

"How many articles?" Blaine asked.

"Probably well over a hundred," she replied. "It might be better, cost wise, if you came down here and sifted through them."

He thought about it for a moment. He could probably get Nick or Jeff to drive him. "Yeah, that sounds good. What are your hours?"

Blaine took down the information and then hung up. The archive was only open Monday through Saturday, so it looked like he'd be cutting school to do it. He'd better ask Jeff to take him then, since he would be much easier to convince to miss school.

Blaine packed up his laptop and threw away his coffee cup, heading across the street to the library. His dad was due to pick him up in twenty minutes, and he needed to have a book or two to validate his lie.

*

Sunday night he sent off a text to Jeff.

Skip school tmrw? I need to go somewhere.
-Blaine

U know Im in
-Jeff

Where r we going?
-Jeff

I'll tell you tmrw. Thx.
-Blaine

Np, pick you up @ 7.
-Jeff

Blaine settled into bed that night, almost too keyed up to sleep. Tomorrow he would finally get some answers and put this whole thing behind him.

*

Jeff honked promptly at seven the next morning and Blaine flew down the stairs, uniform jacket in hand and tie undone.

"Blaine!" his mother called. "What about breakfast?"

"I'll grab something on the way!" he replied, grabbing his satchel. Tucked inside with his school books were directions to the Lima Daily News, the milk carton and the bow tie. He really, really didn't want to tell Jeff the truth, but if he had to he'd need those things. "I gotta go, Jeff's waiting."

"Have a good day!" she shouted behind him as he shut the door. He felt guilty for a moment, but pushed it aside. After all, it wasn't his fault that his mother was a potential kidnapper.

Blaine was startled by that thought and sighed, making his way to Jeff's SUV. He opened the door and climbed in, settling in the seat and pulling the door closed.

"So, where we going?" a voice piped up from the back seat. Blaine jumped, nearly missing as he hooked in his seatbelt.

Nick leaned forward from the backseat and gave him an expectant look. Blaine groaned internally – he should have realized that Jeff would tell Nick they were skipping school. Jeff was looking at him too, as he put the SUV in reverse and began backing out of the driveway.

"Lima," Blaine finally said, staring at his feet.

"What's in Lima?"

"The Lima Daily News," Blaine told them, hoping they didn't ask too many more questions. He just wanted to get this over with.

"So you're driving three hours to get a newspaper?" Nick questioned, giving him an incredulous look. Blaine shrugged.

"Blaine, we're your friends," Jeff added. "You can tell us what's going on."

"Yeah," Nick agreed. "You wanting to skip school and drive to Lima – that's not you."

Blaine sighed again. He was doing that a lot lately.

"Okay, okay," he muttered. "Do you remember when school started, and Sebastian was making fun of the milk cartons with the missing kids on them?"

Both boys nodded, Jeff's eyes trained on the road as he merged onto the freeway, headed north.

"Well – it even sounds nuts to me, I'm not sure I can say it out loud."

"Just tell us," Nick prompted. "We're your best buds. We'll let you know if you've cracked."

Blaine's lips tipped up in sad smile.

"Okay." He reached into his bag and pulled out the milk carton, handing it to Nick.

"All right," Nick said, taking it from him and looking at it. "What's so special about Blane Danvers? You think you seen him somewhere or something?"

Blaine paused and then took a deep breath.

"I think he's me."

*

The SUV was silent for about five minutes while the news of what Blaine told them sunk in.

"Are you sure?" Nick was the first to ask. "'Cause I mean..."

"Trust me," Blaine replied. "You're thinking everything that I've thought." He leaned forward and pulled the bow tie out of his bag. "I dismissed it as someone who just looked like me as a kid... and then I found this in my attic."

"It's the same," Nick said, looking from the picture to the bowtie.

"I know." Blaine tucked it back into his bag. "So I decided that I needed to know more about what happened to that boy."

"So we're going to the Lima Daily News then?" Jeff asked. Blaine nodded.

"I talked to someone on Saturday who said they have tons and tons of articles on it – I guess it's one of their most famous unsolved cases or something."

"Wow," Jeff murmured. He slowed down and took the next exit. "Okay, after all that, I'm going to need sustenance to get through the day."

Blaine let out a choked sounding laugh as Jeff steered the SUV toward the nearest fast food restaurant.

*

The rest of the drive was filled with eating and then Nick and Jeff singing along with the radio. Blaine was pretty sure that both Nick and Jeff were doing their best to distract him from the situation.

It wasn't until they hit the outskirts of Lima that things quieted down. Blaine took out the directions he'd printed and read them out to Jeff. The three of them were silent as they read street signs and looked around the small town. He supposed Lima wasn't really that small – it qualified as a city, but it seemed quiet and nondescript at this hour on a Monday morning.

Finally Jeff pulled up outside the building and found a parking spot, killing the engine. Blaine stared at the building and then back at his friends.

"It's now or never," he said quietly. They slowly made their way out of the vehicle, heading inside. They asked the receptionist for the archive room and the followed her instructions to a quieter part of the building. The three of them stepped inside and Blaine went up to the desk.

"Hello, boys," the woman greeted. "Can I help you?"

"I called over the weekend looking for articles on the Blane Danvers case," Blaine replied. "I was told that it was better to come in a look?"

"Oh, of course, I remember you," the lady said. "Come on back here and I'll get you set up."

She led them into a back room to a computer, starting it up. "We've got a lot of them on here, but there's also some on microfiche that haven't been scanned into the computer yet."

Nick volunteered to look through that and she pointed him to the machine, bringing him the articles after a moment.

"I'll be at the counter if you boys need anything."

Blaine nodded, waiting for her to walk away. Once she was gone, he glanced at Jeff and then started typing.

*

They worked quietly, occasionally reading things aloud. Blaine took a look at his watch and realized an hour and half had passed. They still hadn't found anything new – The Danvers family had been out shopping and Blane had wandered off, never to be seen again.

The search had lasted for months before the police finally announced they had no leads and the case went cold.
Blain sat back in his chair and bit his lip, deep in thought.

"So this was kind of a bust," Jeff spoke up softly.

"I guess," Blaine said.

"I have a crazy suggestion," Nick said. Blaine turned to look at him. He was stacking the microfiche and putting them back in the box.

"What?" Blaine asked. Nick held up a finger and pulled out his phone, typing something and waiting a minute before turning it to show them.

"They're still at the same address," he replied, pointing to the phonebook listing he'd just pulled up. "Why don't we go take a look?"

*

Dread filled Blaine's stomach as Jeff steered the SUV through the streets of Lima, following Nick's directions. He'd debated about the idea, uncertain. Jeff had suggested they get lunch and then reconsider the idea.

They'd found themselves in a quaint little Italian restaurant called Breadstix (where, ironically, the breadsticks were terrible), talking about Warbler practices and upcoming Sectionals. Finally, once the food had been eaten and the bills had been paid, Nick looked at Blaine again.

"Yeah," he'd agreed. "There's no harm in looking, right?"

So they'd gathered up their stuff and headed to the SUV. Blaine's hands were clenched in his lap, gripping so tightly he could feel the indentations from his fingernails.

Jeff pulled over to the side of the road, turning the car off. Nick pointed to a house across the street. "That's it."

Blaine took in the house – it was white with blue shutters, one level. It looked tiny compared to the house he lived in.

"Anything?" Jeff asked.

Blaine shook his head. The house didn't look familiar at all.

Suddenly a black Lincoln Navigator pulled up into the driveway of the house. On instinct, the three of them ducked. Blaine took a chance and lifted his head just enough to see over the dashboard. A girl with long dark hair was darting across the yard, heading for the door.

"Hey, Julie!" A high pitched voice called. The driver's side door opened as the girl paused on the porch. Blaine's insides churned.

Julie.

From a distance he couldn't quite get a good look at her. She looked about fifteen or so. Then he was distracted by the guy getting out of the Navigator – he was tall and sandy haired and completely gorgeous from where Blaine was sitting. His legs went on for miles.

He didn't know which person to be more shocked about – the fact that Julie actually existed or the fact she was now kissing said guy on the cheek and taking her school bag from him. He waved her off, getting back into the Navigator and pulling out after a moment. Blaine ducked back down again as the Navigator passed them by, and then sat up, shaking a little.

"Blaine-" Jeff started.

"Just drive," Blaine managed. He felt like he was spiraling out of control. "Please."

Jeff started the SUV and eased back onto the road.

The ride back to Dalton was silent. Blaine spent most of it with his eyes closed and his head leaning on the cool glass of the window. Nick and Jeff looked somber when they dropped him off. Blaine stared up at his house and sighed.

He went inside and came face to face with his very irate parents.

"Where the hell were you?" his mother bit out. He'd never heard her use that tone of voice before.

"I was with my friends," Blaine murmured.

"Where?" she demanded. "China?"

"Nowhere special," Blaine told her.

"You skipped school to go 'nowhere special?'" his dad jumped in, voice booming.

"Yeah," Blaine told him, not even caring how awful he sounded. "Yeah, I did."

"Blaine, why-" his mother began.

"You know, I'm tired," Blaine interrupted. "I'd like to go to my room."

"Not until we settle this," his father insisted.

"Settle what?" Blaine stared at them. "I skipped school to hang out with my friends. It's not the end of the world."

He felt awful, but he couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth. Blaine knew how things had been between them and Cooper before Cooper had died. He knew he was antagonizing them, but he was angry because they'd lied to him and maybe even kidnapped him and he didn't even know who they were anymore. He didn't know who he was either, because he certainly wasn't the type to talk back to his parents or skip school.

He brushed passed them and headed for the stairs. "I'm going to bed."

"Blaine!" his father called after him. Blaine ignored it, thundering up the stairs and into his room, slamming the door. He dropped his satchel and then flung himself onto his bed.

Only then did he allow himself to fall apart.