The moment after Kurt had been loaded into the back seat of Mr. Schue's car with Finn climbing in behind him, Santana left Mercedes crying onto Rachel's shoulder and stormed through the empty hallways to Blaine's locker. She was pretty sure that there was visible steam blowing out of her ears as she grabbed his combination lock and spun in the numbers of his birth date, yanking the metal door open and not caring that it banged loudly against the adjacent locker. Running a finger down the copy of Blaine's schedule taped to the inside of the door, she determined that if he'd actually gone to class he was in AP Algebra, and she immediately slammed his locker shut again.

Before opening the door to the AP Algebra classroom, Santana had to pause and wipe her face clean of any anger, instead replacing it with her best expression of worry and distress. Taking a deep breath, she entered the room and whispered "Sorry, I need to borrow Blaine – there's some bad news about his friend," to Mrs. Briggs.

Keenly aware of the fact that Blaine (along with several of the other students in the room) was watching her, she went back into the hall and waited for Blaine to be sent out. The door opened a few seconds later, and Blaine emerged, his movements agitated and his face anxious.

"Is Kurt—?" Blaine's head suddenly snapped back so quickly that his neck almost felt broken, and it took a moment for him to realize that Santana had punched him with enough force to make him dizzy and nauseous.

"Wow," said Santana, shaking her hand out. "I really needed to do that. Okay, you can go back to class now." She spun around, about to walk away.

Blaine rubbed his sore jaw, already feeling a massive bruise developing underneath the skin. "Wait, Santana—"

Santana turned back around, her eyes narrowed. "What."

"Is Kurt okay?"

She glared at him incredulously. "How can you even ask that?" she demanded. "I knew you weren't the brightest stripe on the rainbow flag, but Jesus, Anderson!"

Blaine's eyebrows snapped together. "Why does everyone think I'm the bad guy in this situation?!" he cried.

"Because you are!" Santana snapped. "I know you were Dalton's Golden Boy or whatever, but there is a bad guy in this situation and it definitely isn't Kurt."

Blaine at least had the decency to look guilty. "I didn't mean—"

"Yes, you did."

He shook his head, obviously beginning to grasp at straws. "I just… he lied. You're not supposed to do that to someone you love."

"Oh, cut the cheesy sentimental crap!" Santana retaliated. "This isn't a soap opera! Kurt is sick – it's not glamorous, it's not romantic, and it sure as hell isn't going to be easy on anyone—"

"But—"

"I never thought I'd say this, but it turns out that Finn is the one who actually gives a crap about Kurt. You clearly don't."

"Of course I—"

"No!" Santana cut him off by jabbing a finger at him. "Kurt lied to you. Big deal. Get over it. He lied to all of us and if you were in his position, you would do the same freaking thing, so don't even try to act like you're better than him. It's disgusting."

Not allowing Blaine a chance to argue, Santana brushed past him and headed for the parking lot. Screw classes.

It was around lunchtime when Mercedes decided to give up on school for the day. Her head had been spinning ever since the whirlwind (or tornado, more like) that morning, and it still hadn't quite sunk in that her best friend was mentally ill. All day, she'd been going through all of her memories of their friendship, searching for any clues that she might have missed over the years, and now she had a headache and a desire to do nothing more than roll into her bed and sleep for the rest of the week.

It had been her original intention to just go home, but at some point along the way she changed her mind and a few minutes later she was pulling in to park in front of Kurt and Finn's house. She wasn't surprised to see Rachel's tiny car parked behind Kurt's Navigator, but she did a double-take when she noticed that the beat-up blue pickup squatting next to the curb belonged to Puck.

Finn's mom answered the door with a bright smile that barely concealed a layer of distress, offering Mercedes a seat in the kitchen and a cup of tea. Mercedes sunk into a chair at the kitchen table, where Rachel was already sitting with Finn, bandaging one of his hands with the Hudson-Hummels' home first-aid kit open in front of them.

"Finn tried to take care of these himself," Rachel said with an affectionate roll of the eyes.

Mercedes laughed shallowly. "Finn, you know you're not allowed anywhere near medical supplies."

Finn squirmed as Rachel spread disinfectant over the bite mark on his forearm. "It's just wrapping a bandage around my hand – how complicated could it be?"

Carole set a mug of fresh tea in front of Mercedes and sat in the chair next to Finn. "Honey, I came in here and found you with acast on your hand, not a bandage."

Mercedes took a gulp of her tea, her nerves prickling. There were no screams shaking the house, but she didn't know whether that meant Kurt was back or he was still stuck in the deadened state that she'd last seen him in. "So… where's Puck?" she asked. "I saw his truck out front."

"He's in the living room with Kurt," Carole said. "They're watching Phineas and Ferb."

Mercedes eyebrows shot up, and she suddenly had to fight the urge to laugh. "…Really?" she said.

"It's Zack's favorite show," said Finn, scratching at one of the scabs on the hand that Rachel hadn't gotten to yet. His skin looked like it had been put through a shredder and then haphazardly taped back onto his hands and wrists.

Mercedes frowned. "Who's Zack?"

"He's a lot friendlier than Eleanor, that's for sure," Rachel said.

It took Mercedes a second to remember who Eleanor was.

Carole sipped her tea. "Zack's out now, if you want to meet him."

Mercedes hesitated, and then realized that if they had let Puck stay with Kurt alone, then whoever Zack was couldn't be dangerous. "Okay," she said.

Carole stood up and led Mercedes to the living room, where Puck was leaning back on the couch looking more than mildly amused. They were greeted by Dr. Doofenshmirtz's nasal cry of "Curse you, Perry the Platypus!" quickly followed by a giggle from the floor. Mercedes leaned around the couch nervously, not entirely sure of what she was going to find.

Kurt was lying on his stomach, his feet up in the air with his chin propped up on his fists. He was completely absorbed in the television screen, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open, captivated by the karate combat now taking place between Perry and Doofenshmirtz.

"Zack," Carole called. "Honey, another friend's here to see you."

"Okay," he replied, his gaze not wavering from the screen.

Puck snorted. "I don't think he heard you."

Carole patted Mercedes on the shoulder. "Why don't you have a seat," she suggested with a smile, gesturing to the couch. "The episode will be over in a couple minutes."

Mercedes sat on the couch, feeling like everyone was being far too nonchalant about the fact that Kurt was currently acting like a child. Ignoring the TV, she glanced over at the coffee table and saw that it was covered with disorganized sheets of paper, crayons and markers scattered across them. "Were you guys… coloring?"

Puck grinned. "He is so into it. It'd be hilarious if it wasn't so weird." He leaned forward and grabbed one of the drawings from the table. "Check this out," he said, handing it to her. "Finn asked him to draw all of Kurt's personalities, and this is what he did."

Mercedes felt her heart skip from the sheer strangeness of the drawing. If she had found the picture in a house where a young child lived, she would have thought nothing of it, but the context and the fact that it came from Kurt made it surreal and almost creepy. The white field of the paper sported seven stick figures drawn in purple marker, with names written in the uneven and disorganized scribbles of a preschooler just learning to write.

ZACK was a short stick-boy with a big smile and a balloon attached to his hand, and beside him was TRUMAN, a tall man with spiky hair who was dancing to the tiny music notes in the space around him. ROBBIE had his arms crossed and had been sketched with a thinner marker, making him even more stick-like, and TYLER was a small boy crying and holding a stuffed animal, though Mercedes couldn't tell what kind of animal it was. ELEANOR was the only girl, and she had been drawn with a very pronounced frown and her face colored in red. CRAIG was a bald man with a swollen belly, a beer bottle in his hand – his face was colored red too. The only thing really distinguishing the figure labeled KURT from the rest was the bright purple scarf around his neck.

"Weird, right?" Puck said, startling Mercedes back into the present. She'd almost forgotten where she was.

She gave a shaky nod in reply, warily studying Kurt. Or Zack. Or whoever it was. God, how could this have gotten so screwed up in just a matter of hours?

"How long has Zack… been out?" Mercedes asked, stumbling a little over her words.

"About the last hour," Puck shrugged. "When I got here it was Truman. Now that was funny to watch."

Mercedes quirked an eyebrow, not sure she wanted to know the details. "Why?" she asked in spite of herself.

"Cause he kept trying to get Finn to let him blast Lady Gaga in the living room, and he was hitting on me," Puck snorted, trying not to laugh.

"I don't think this is particularly funny," she said slowly.

"Well, that part was."

"No," she snapped. "He's sick. I don't get how you can see anything funny in that."

Puck sighed. "Mercedes, I was just as freaked as you were when Kurt was screaming his head off and trying to attack Finn or whatever, but not all of Kurt's… people… are like that, okay?"

"What, an hour with him – them – him and you're already the expert?"

Puck was about to retort, but Kurt (Zack?) suddenly leapt up from the floor. "Show's over!" he announced. He shut the TV off and turned to Puck with a huge grin lighting up his face. "Isn't that the awesomest cartoon ever?" he said.

"Pretty much," Puck agreed.

Kurt's eyes turned to Mercedes, seeming to notice her for the first time. He grinned again. "Hi! What's your name?"

"M-Mercedes," she stammered, stunned by the complete lack of recognition.

"I know you – you're Kurt's best friend!" he said, obviously pleased that he possessed this bit of information.

"Hey Zack," Puck cut in. "How old are you?"

"I'm four," answered Kurt proudly, holding up four fingers. "I'm hungry, what's for lunch?" He turned and ran, almost skipping, to the kitchen.

Mercedes stared after him.

"He's kinda ADD," said Puck.

"So I noticed." She took a deep breath, trying to steady her quickened heartbeat. "What the hell are we supposed to do now?"

"Well, right now, I smell grilled cheese, so I'm gonna go grab one." Puck sprang to his feet and followed Kurt with almost the same level of excitement.

Mercedes leaned forward and rested her head in her hands, feeling a boulder inching painfully upwards through her esophagus. Her brain couldn't absorb all of this – it was coming at her too fast.

"You okay?"

She looked up as Finn sank onto the couch next to her, his hands and wrists neatly bandaged Rachel Berry-style. "No," she said. "I don't get this – any of this."

Finn shrugged. "Neither do we. Neither does Kurt."

"How are you all so…casual about it?"

"We're not," Finn replied simply. "Look, Rachel acts like she's fine whenever she's freaked out, and so does Puck. But neither of them – especially Puck – would be here if they weren't worried."

She sighed. "Is it possible for him to be fixed?"

Finn let out a long breath, chewing on the inside of his lip in thought. "It's possible. But it's not probable."

Mercedes shook her head, struggling to wrap her head around the entire situation. "H-how does it work? I mean, how do you tell who's going to come out? And when they come out?"

"You don't," said Finn solemnly. "It's not a math problem. Sometimes he'll react one way and sometimes he'll react another." He sighed again. "Mercedes… he's not coming back to school."

"I know," she said absentmindedly, still trying to fight the massive lump in her throat.

"No, I mean… ever."

Her gaze snapped up.

Finn rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Burt's at the school right now talking with Principal Figgins, but there's no point in it because no matter what Burt says, they can't let Kurt back in the school."

"But…that means no degree, no Glee, no NYADA—!"

"It's not just about what Kurt needs any more," Finn interrupted. "He had a serious fit on campus, during school hours. That wasdangerous. And it wasn't something anyone could control."