"I'm afraid that… what we're dealing with here is a primitive."

There was a long pause in which the very air felt compressed. Burt, Finn, and Kurt were all seated on the couch while Carole occupied the extra armchair, having been called in from the waiting room for a quick conference.

"What does that mean?" Finn asked.

Dr. Goldberg's beard twitched. "A primitive is an alter that displays only the most basic emotions, if any at all, and their language skills are minimal. Most of the time they're animalistic—"

Kurt flinched at this, swallowing as he studied the carpet.

"—but occasionally a robotic primitive will form instead, and I think that's what Schism is."

"Is that a bad or good thing?" Burt wanted to know.

"Depends on the situation. My guess would be that the role Schism plays in Kurt's head is to block the neural pathways to the emotional centers of his brain if they become too overstimulated."

Kurt swallowed again, his eyes going glassy, but he said nothing.

"Can you say that in English?" asked Burt.

Dr. Goldberg sighed, crossing one leg over the other. "In layman's terms, if Kurt becomes so emotional that his brain can't process it, Schism will emerge so that he doesn't have to."

"But… why? I mean, he's been real upset before, but this alter hasn't come out 'til now."

The doctor shook his head. "I'd be willing to bet that he's emerged more often than you realize." He pursed his mouth in thought, his beard twitching. "During the hypnosis, once Schism left again, Eleanor said that Schism's been present forever. Based on that statement, I'd expect that Schism was in fact the first alter to develop. He most likely appeared during the first few days after the accident."

Burt frowned. "You said just a little while ago that alters took a long time to develop."

"If the personality is extensive and detailed, yes. Unemotional alters are a bit of a different story." Dr. Goldberg shifted in his chair, scratching thoughtfully at his beard. "What we know about Schism so far is very little, because he does very little. The only thing he really seems to draw on is Kurt's language abilities, and he uses language minimally at best. I'm not sure I'd go so far as to even call Schism a personality."

"Then what is he?" Finn interjected, completely confused.

"A state of being?" Goldberg shrugged.

"It's not enlightenment, Dr. Goldberg," Kurt said, speaking up for the first time. "I'm not conscious when S-Schism is awake." He tripped slightly over the name, still unused to it.

"The fact remains that Schism doesn't have many characteristics other than a lack of characteristics," Dr. Goldberg replied evenly. He glanced at the clock and stood to go to his desk. "Well, I'm afraid that our time is up for today. Roseanne can give you the receipt at the front desk, and let me book you for next Tuesday, same time."

"Well, wait a minute," Burt protested. "What are we supposed to do now?"

Dr. Goldberg looked up from his schedule with a frown. "With what?"

"Kurt's not allowed back to school, everyone knows about his condition, and all you've said is that this new alter is a some kind of robot."

"What have I told you all along, Mr. Hummel? This is not an overnight process."

"That still doesn't give us anything," Burt retorted dryly.

"Take a week off," Dr. Goldberg said, scribbling into his appointment book. "Just relax, de-stress, get used to the idea of having Schism around even if he's rarely in control. We'll talk in further detail next week about strategies for dealing with it."

Kurt exhaled heavily, standing up and stiffly walking out of the room with his arms crossed. After a moment of hesitation, his family followed.

Kurt didn't stick around for very long after his therapy appointment had ended. Robbie emerged before they even got home, and he immediately disappeared into his room as soon as they walked into the house. A few minutes later, punk rock blasted through the ceiling, rattling the light fixtures and acting as a clear Do Not Disturb Or I Will Fucking Snap sign.

Carole sighed and picked up Kurt's jacket from where he'd tossed it on the floor, then told Finn she had some errands to run and returned to the car, leaving him to scrap together lunch for himself. Finn managed to heat up some tomato soup, then went upstairs to knock on Kurt's door.

"Robbie?" he called, yelling to be heard over Ha Ha You're Dead (a song that was usually played repeatedly whenever Robbie was around and feeling more irritable than usual). "Robbie! Open the door!" He banged on the door again until Kurt unlocked it.

"What do you want?" Kurt shouted, leaving the stereo at its maximum volume as a blunt point of showing that this conversation wasn't worth his time.

"Can you at least turn that down?"

Kurt mockingly put a finger behind his ear. "What? I can't hear you!"

Finn rolled his eyes, flapping a hand at him. "Screw this. There's soup in the kitchen if it's possible for you to be hungry." He turned around and stomped downstairs to have lunch, retrieving his earplugs from the bathroom as he went.

Half an hour later, Finn was sitting at the kitchen island, skimming over a Men's Health issue and draining the last of his soup from the bowl. Kurt strode into the kitchen, shirtless and wearing only a pair of torn jeans, and began to rummage through the fridge.

Finn took out his earplugs, grateful for the lack of pumping music from upstairs. "Robbie gone?"

"Yep," said Kurt, tossing a banana into the blender along with some protein powder from the cupboard. He pulled a hand through his hair, making it spike up. "Kicked that sucker out. Man, he's depressing – I don't know how you can fucking stand it."

Finn chuckled. "Me? You're the one who's got to room with him." He tapped his temple for emphasis as he dropped his bowl into the sink. "Or is it like a dorm and you all get your own room?"

Kurt cracked a smug grin. "Yeah, and Kurt's the den mother," he snorted. "But I hate that the others get more screen-time than me. I need room to stretch. Gotta pump my guns!" He curled an arm to show off his bicep. "Also, you've got to get Kurt's ass to the gym at some point, dude, 'cause I cannot keep showing up to find he's out of shape. He gets more muscles and I guarantee you, he'll be getting a lot more dick than he does now."

"First of all, ew, that's my brother and I don't want to think about that," said Finn. "And second, I don't think Kurt really appreciated you hitting on Puck yesterday."

"Why, Kurt's claimed that territory?" Kurt asked through a massive bite of an apple he'd yanked from the fruit basket.

"No. Puck's not gay."

Kurt hoisted himself up to sit on the counter. "Neither am I."

"Yeah, you'll just do it with anything that moves."

Kurt shrugged, as if to say well, you have a point. "Well, you better let Puck or Buck or Fuck or whatever his name is know that a mohawk – or whatever the fuck he's got on top of his head for hair – screams bisexuality."

"I'll pass it on," Finn laughed. "Hey, Truman, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure, whatevs," Kurt said after a gulp of his protein shake.

Finn's eyebrows shot up. "Did you really just say 'whatevs'?" He shook his head. "You know what, never mind. What do you know about Schism?"

"What about him?"

"Oh, so you're not pretending he doesn't exist?"

Kurt shrugged. "Why would I? He's one of us."

"I dunno, when I asked Robbie about it, he wouldn't tell me and he got super angry."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "That's Robbie you're talking about, man. You know, the fucking High King of Sullentown? I swear, that kid is straight out of that shitty vampire book Kurt's so obsessed with."

Finn laughed again. "Don't let Robbie hear that."

"Ah, he probably already did. Not like I give a flying fuck what Stick-Boy thinks, anyways."

"Fair enough," Finn said. "So…you still didn't answer my question."

"'Bout what?"

"About Schism."

"Oh, right." Kurt took another swallow of his protein shake. "Well, he's pretty much a robot. Not much else to know other than he's been here longer than anyone else."

"Why doesn't he come out more often?"

Kurt shrugged. "Doesn't need to. Usually, most of us can handle whatever shit Kurt gets himself into. Well, except Eleanor and Zack… 'Cause Zack's a fucking toddler and Eleanor's fucking… Eleanor. You know how it is."

"Yeah."

"And that's not to mention the fact that none of us like it when Schism's out."

Finn frowned. "Why's that?"

"He doesn't feel anything, man. You have any idea what that's like? It sucks."

Finn considered this for a moment, then nodded. "I guess it would."

Kurt glanced down at his bare torso. "Fuck, Kurt's pale." He sighed. "Let's go to a party tonight."

"Where?"

"Fuck, I don't know! Scandals would work. Probably the only place in Hicksville that has a decent party. Plus, if I fuck any girls, Kurt's gonna get super pissed."

"He'd have a right to be, dude," Finn grinned.

Kurt rolled his eyes and nimbly jumped off the counter. "Please, sex is sex," he said. "Doesn't matter who it's with, and it definitely doesn't matter whether you're forking the front door or the back."

Finn made a face. "Wow, I really didn't want that picture in my head."

Kurt threw up his hands. "Whatever. If it means keeping Kurt from giving me a fucking headache, I'm willing to swear allegiance to the dick." He mock-saluted, then turned and headed back towards the hallway.

"Put a shirt on!" Finn called after him.

Kurt threw his middle finger over his shoulder.

Carole found Blaine sitting in the far corner of the Lima Bean, almost twenty minutes earlier than when they'd agreed to meet, with a medium drip sitting untouched on the table in front of him.

"Hello," was Carole's simple greeting.

He looked up. "Oh, hi." He shifted nervously as Carole took her seat across from him.

"So," she said, wrapping her hands around her warm latte. "How are you?"

Blaine exhaled heavily, looking out the window. Carole realized she'd never seen him slouch before. "I don't know," he said.

"How much do your parents know about what's going on?"

Blaine chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Nothing."

Carole's heart skipped and her eyebrows shot up. "Nothing? You haven't told them?"

"My mom tells my dad everything, and if my dad knew it'd just be 'I told you so' and 'we always knew the homo was crazy'," he said dryly. "Wouldn't help anything."

"I'm sorry, honey," she said softly.

He shrugged, bringing his gaze back to the table. "I'm used to it."

"Just for context, um… how many of Kurt's alters have you met?"

Blaine swallowed, paling slightly. "Uh, just… Eleanor, Tyler, and Robbie." He rubbed a hand over his face. "How many others does he have again?"

Carole bit her lip. "Well, um… he's got seven total."

Blaine frowned. "Wait… wasn't it six?"

"There's a new one."

Blaine looked like he was about to vomit, and he pushed his coffee away from him. He rested his head in his hands.

"Blaine, look…" Carole started. "You and Kurt are not married. Even if you love each other, you're not committed. You didn't sign any contract to keep you with him. If you feel like you need to leave, you have every right to."

"B-but Kurt…"

"Kurt might not understand right away, but it doesn't matter. You have the right to leave or stay or do whatever you want to do," Carole insisted. "We all want you to stay – you keep Kurt grounded, you help him feel better about his life, and a hundred other things. But it really doesn't matter at all what we feel."