The weekend rolled in like a tidal wave, taking everyone by surprise. For all the stressful crap that had filled up the week, the days had still gone by quickly. The members of the glee club spent a large percentage of their time talking about Kurt, and yet by the time Saturday came to a close, the only ones who had actually spoken to Kurt (and not his alters) were Finn, Rachel, and Mercedes. Even Mr. Schue had seemed to be stuck with a stunned expression on his face all week.

Quinn, like the rest of them, thought often of Kurt, though it wasn't like she couldn't eat or concentrate on the other things she had to do in her daily life. More than anything, she was annoyed that nearly everyone in the group (except for Sugar, and Quinn wasn't entirely sure if Sugar counted) thought that Quinn shouldn't be allowed to visit him. Even Finn had snapped at her when she'd asked him about a good time to stop by. She didn't understand it. Maybe she and Kurt weren't exactly close, but during her nightmare of a pregnancy in sophomore year he'd been the one to suggest good skincare products and take her shopping for maternity clothes that wouldn't make her look frumpy. Why wouldn't his brother let her do the same for him? Minus the maternity, obviously, and Kurt could always top any advice she'd give him in the skincare field.

She tugged at her short ponytail as she stood in line at the Lima Bean on Sunday afternoon, waiting to put in an order for a low-fat soy frappe and shivering as the coffee shop's entrance opened behind her and let a gust of freezing wind inside. She adjusted her scarf and tugged her too-light denim jacket tighter around her chest, berating herself for choosing fashion over function for the gazillionth time.

"—really uncomfortable being here," a familiar voice from behind her caught her attention. "What was wrong with Starbucks?"

Quinn turned around, about to give Kurt a bright smile and a friendly and supportive greeting, but felt whatever she was going to say vanish from her mind. She nearly did a double-take, seeing Kurt standing at the back of the line with Finn and Rachel. He looked a little shorter, somehow, though Quinn didn't know how that was possible, and the flipped hairstyle he'd been so proud of was gone. Instead of dressing with his trademark fashion flair, he was wearing a drab grey zip-up hoodie and torn black jeans, his hands resting in his pockets. One of his sneakers was untied, though he didn't seem to notice.

Quinn took a deep breath, steeling herself, and quickly sidestepped around the three or four customers between them. "Kurt, hi," she said, forcing the bright smile back onto her face. "It's great to see you out and about."

He blinked at her. "I haven't been chained to a hospital bed, Quinn. But it's good to see you too."

Quinn didn't miss the faltering expressions on Finn and Rachel's faces. Both were clearly unhappy about the fact that she had approached them. "Right," she said. "Well, how are you doing? You've, uh… changed your style a little."

His eyebrows quirked, as if to say, Really? That's what you came up with for a conversation starter? "Yeah…" he replied. "Well, I only woke up in the car a few minutes ago, and I seem to be the only person in me who actually has taste."

Finn made an odd shuffling movement towards the space between Quinn and Kurt, so subtly that she wasn't sure it had been conscious. He was watching her warily, like he was ready to push her away from his stepbrother.

Quinn sighed, focusing her attention back on Kurt. "So… how are you really?"

Kurt shifted slightly, blowing air heavily through his nose. "Honestly? I've got seven extra people rattling around in my head. Not the least of whom is the psychotic eleven-year-old who chopped off my hair and the asshole who chain-smokes and will have sex with anything that moves. I'm miserable."

Rachel chewed on her lip nervously, and Finn's jaw twitched. Quinn paused, unsure of how to respond. After a few moments' hesitation, her reply fell out of her mouth before she could stop it. "Then why don't you stop?"

"Quinn…" Rachel started, casting her an urgent look.

Kurt was curious, though, and he frowned at her. "Stop what, exactly?"

"The switching," Quinn answered. "Playing these characters. You know it's not doing you any good."

Finn interrupted forcibly, taking another step towards her. "I'm warning you, you'd better stop talking right now."

Kurt ignored his stepbrother, giving Quinn a level stare. "You think I'm just acting out?"

Abruptly and inexplicably, Quinn felt slightly nervous. "Well, it… seems more likely than, you know, being multiple people at once."

Kurt only nodded calmly. "I suppose that's possible," he said, earning incredulous looks from Finn and Rachel. "Let me ask you something, though. Two of my alters are left-handed. Now, that's a genetic thing, right? So if they're me, wouldn't they all be right-handed?"

Quinn shrugged. "I'm not a psychologist, Kurt; I—"

"That's right. You're not."

Her mouth clamped shut, her heart suddenly thudding in her chest. Kurt was regarding her with a perfectly even gaze that was somehow far more unsettling than any furious glare he might have given her otherwise.

"Come on, let's leave," Rachel cut in, tugging on Kurt's hoodie sleeve. "We can go to Starbucks instead."

"Rachel," he said lowly. "I'm fine."

"What if you transition?" she hissed under her breath.

"I'm out in public. What does it matter if I transition here or on the sidewalk? Besides, it was your idea to get out me of the house."

"Well, I didn't think we'd run into—" She stopped herself, nervously glancing at Quinn.

Quinn pursed her mouth. "I get it," she snapped. "You all think I'm a cold, heartless bitch." She huffed. "Well, I'm sorry, Kurt. I'm sorry for respecting you enough to not throw you a pity party when you freak out over trouble at school. I'm sorry for believing that you're strong enough to pull yourself out of this. And, really, I'm sorry for—"

"Stop it," Finn snapped tersely, catching Quinn off-guard. He wasn't even paying attention to her, though, as he had turned to scrutinize Kurt instead. He quickly cast Rachel a pointed glance, who seemed to understand whatever unspoken message he'd sent her, and she nodded and began to push Quinn in the opposite direction.

"How about we go to the ladies' room?" she offered, a little too brightly.

Quinn shrugged her off, trying to figure out what was happening. Nothing had changed about Kurt that she could see, so she was confused by the way Finn and subsequently Rachel were acting. Then, upon a second look, she realized that there was something off about his expression. She couldn't quite pinpoint what the difference was, though she could definitely hazard a guess at the cause.

"Come on, let's go back to the car," Finn said quietly, standing between Kurt and Quinn.

The voice that came out of Kurt's throat next made Quinn flinch and take a step backwards, as much by his tone as what he said.

"I'd rather stay here and teach this cheap trailer-trash whore a fucking lesson."

"No," Finn responded immediately, and Quinn was stunned by the fact that he seemed to be taking Kurt's language perfectly in stride. "No, we're leaving. Right now. Come on." He grabbed Kurt's upper arm, but Kurt didn't budge, only meeting Finn's eyes with such a black look that Quinn was sure Finn's head would burst into flames.

"Take your hand off me, faggot," Kurt spat, and Rachel let out a tiny gasp, her hand clapping over her mouth.

"I'll let you go as soon as you're back in the car, and not before."

Kurt reached over with his other arm and seized Finn by the lapels. "You really want to make a go of this, asshole?" he growled, his face only six inches from Finn's. "I swear to God, I will beat your ass to fucking Timbuktu."

Quinn was so absorbed by the alarming behavior on Kurt's part that she almost didn't notice the Lima Bean manager approach them. "Listen, folks, this is a family-friendly establishment, so if you don't mind taking this conflict elsewhere—"

"Yeah, we're on our way," Finn said tightly. "Sorry. Craig, come on."

"Fuck you, dipshit," Kurt snarled. He turned to the manager. "And fuck you too. You might want to change the décor, 'cause it's fucking queer."

With that final observation, Kurt stomped out to the parking lot with Finn close on his heels. Rachel let out a long sigh. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said to Quinn, then hurried outside to follow them.

Quinn stood there for several minutes, speechless. No. There was no way. Kurt was acting out, but the problem had to be a lot deeper than just what had happened at school. But God, how deep did it have to go?