For all that Robbie inhabited Kurt's body twenty-four-seven, he really didn't understand Kurt very much. He'd been dealing with the cramped space in Kurt's head for years, sometimes having conversations with him while Eleanor or Craig were in control and Kurt and Robbie didn't really have a choice but to sit back and wait. Right now, Eleanor was pissed and Robbie had taken over the body for no other reason than to stop her from doing anything she might regret. After all, they were in a hospital, and hospitals were busy and easy to get lost in and had a lot of things that could be potentially harmful.

The nursing staff on this floor had explained to Kurt and Robbie individually that cuts this deep took months to fully heal, and Kurt would always have the scars to show for it. When Kurt didn't, Robbie asked why his hands were shaking, and a nurse told him that the nerves had been cut pretty badly and it would take even longer than the actual wounds to repair themselves.

Kurt was hiding, and that irked Robbie, but Kurt was his own person (no matter how big the stack of evidence against him was) and so Robbie grumblingly took the reins and sat through visits from Burt and Carole and Finn and several of the other kids from Kurt's school. He was protecting Kurt so that he could protect the body. He wanted to live, damn it.

When Kurt wasn't there, Robbie spent the majority of his energy pushing Eleanor and Craig back into their compartments. Having either of them around would do absolutely no one any good, and he was fairly sure that Craig's intent was to hurt the body since Robbie had heard violent mutterings and oaths from that part of Kurt's mind. Aside from the occasional shriek of protest as he suppressed her, Robbie heard nothing from Eleanor for days.

It was during a visit from one of Kurt's school friends that he became too emotionally stressed and Robbie stepped up to take the wheel, letting Kurt breathe with relief in the back of his own head. It had been a while since he and Kurt had been awake at the same time, and it was a strange feeling for Robbie to experience, even though Kurt still had no control over what his body was doing. He was still awake. He was still there, taking up space.

Kurt's friend noticed that he'd changed and had set about nervously tidying up the windowsill, which at this point was cluttered with flowers and cards, and shakily humming under her breath as she worked. Robbie had seen this girl only once before, when he'd emerged during some sort of music class and somehow managed to not make it obvious that he wasn't Kurt.

"What's your name?" he asked, digging halfheartedly at the watery hospital jello. The only reason he was eating right now was that he needed the nurses to believe that Kurt was okay enough to go home, and then he could get back to his old dietary routine.

The girl turned around in confusion at the question, her brown eyes wide and her mouth set in a very straight line. Robbie felt Kurt flinch.

"Um," she said, still staring at him in uncertainty. Robbie was used to this kind of response, though.

"Um?" he echoed distastefully. "You're not making an Alice In Wonderland reference, are you? 'Um from Umbridge'?"

Be nice, Kurt ordered.

I'm always nice.

Please. You're a pit bull.

"No, of course not," the girl said, oblivious to Robbie's inner conversation. She sighed and sank back into the chair by the bed. "It's Rachel." She fiddled with the charm bracelet on her wrist. "I'm sorry, I'm just… this is very strange."

Can you ask her how Mercedes is doing? Kurt requested.

Robbie relayed Kurt's question to Rachel, and her mouth fell open.

"He's – Kurt's awake right now?" she whispered. "Can he hear me?"

"What he can't hear is whether or not Mercedes is okay," Robbie told her dryly. "Why he wants to know about a car is beyond me."

Kurt huffed in the background. Mercedes is not— Never mind.

Rachel swallowed, blinking back tears, and Robbie seriously hoped that she wouldn't break down crying because he really didn't want to put up with that. "Sh-She, uh…" Rachel started, looking down at her hands as she twisted her fingers together. "I don't think she's handling it well."

Robbie rolled his eyes. "Well, it's Kurt who's in the hospital, not this Mercedes person."

"She knows that," Rachel said, her tone abruptly forceful. "But she's your best friend, and—"

"No, she isn't." Robbie dropped the now-empty jello cup onto his tray, feeling disgusting as the cherry-flavored slop was dissolving in his stomach.

Robbie, Kurt warned.

Rather than argue back, Rachel simply clamped her lips shut and remained silent for a long time. It was quiet enough to hear the steady drip… drip… drip… of the AB-positive trickling into the IV tube attached to Kurt's collarbone.

Robbie wasn't all that concerned with keeping Rachel happy – or at least not terrified – so he stood up to take a leak, dragging his IV pole with him. He didn't bother to close the bathroom door, and he was sure that Rachel was blushing beet red and deliberately turning away, but, again – not his problem.

Do you really have to shove your differences in her face? Kurt asked.

Robbie didn't answer him, because Kurt knew exactly why Robbie strained to be such a polar opposite.

On his way back to bed, Craig suddenly surged against the walls keeping him contained, and it hurt.

"Shit," Robbie hissed through his teeth, staggering and using the IV pole for support (which wasn't very smart, considering the fact that it was on wheels, but he was still upright). He put a hand to his head, where the pain was already beginning to fade – he'd managed to push Craig back again, but the space surrounding the compartment still dully ached.

Rachel had lurched to her feet and come over, clearly with the original intent of putting her arms around him, but she held herself in check an arm's length away. Peering at him with an odd blend of confusion, worry, and fascination, she asked him if he was all right.

Robbie didn't know her well enough to deliver an honest answer, so he told her he was fine and climbed back into bed and waited for her to leave.

Because of the severity of the attempt on himself, Kurt was kept for longer than seventy-two hours. The doctors wouldn't give him a definite deadline for his release, and the head of the psych ward upstairs made time to visit him personally. The man had assured Kurt that it was just a friendly check-up, but Kurt could feel him studying and evaluating, and that made his teeth grit and he had to work to keep Craig locked down.

His dad almost continuously ranted about how he wished Eleanor had a body of her own so that he could kick the crap out of it for hurting his son. Kurt only shrank and turned away each time Burt brought it up. He hadn't mustered up the courage to admit to his father that Eleanor had actually done nothing to him (this time), but Burt hadn't exactly thought to ask, either.

Carole was constantly bustling around him – adjusting the blankets, making sure he ate, checking the bandages, talking to the doctors, and anything else that presented itself to her. Finn, on the other hand, had seemed to be silently fuming from the moment Kurt had woken up on Wednesday morning. Kurt wanted to speak to him, but he could tell that whatever was on Finn's mind, he didn't want to say in front of Burt or his mom, so Kurt was waiting for the right moment.

Dr. Goldberg stopped by on Friday afternoon, carrying a teddy bear from the hospital gift shop. "I thought Zack or Tyler might like this," he said, placing it on the foot of the bed. It was brown and fluffy and it wasn't Raleigh, so Kurt knew that Tyler wouldn't touch him, and Zack had always preferred Hot Wheels to animals.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm not really ready to have a discussion, if that's what you mean," Kurt replied.

"Okay," Dr. Goldberg nodded, bracing his hands against the plastic footboard. "But we do need to discuss it at some point."

"We are not in your office."

Dr. Goldberg clicked his tongue against his teeth. "You're right. I'll talk to you at your next appointment. Hope to see you there."

Later that day, when Burt had gone to the cafeteria to get coffee and Carole had been forced into an extra shift at work, Kurt seized the chance to talk to Finn. Finn was sitting quietly in the corner, flipping through the Men's Health and NASCAR magazines that he'd smuggled from the waiting area by the nurse's station, and he had said very little for the past three days.

"Finn, why aren't you talking to me?" Kurt asked, figuring it would be better to start bluntly. Finn had never been one for subtlety.

Barely glancing up from his magazine, Finn responded that he had been talking, but it was far too flatly spoken to be believable.

"Finn, would it kill you to look at me?"

"Would it kill you?"

Kurt's words caught in his throat. Finn was still turning the pages of Sports Illustrated like he hadn't said anything.

"What do you mean?" Kurt forced himself to say. His voice sounded wobbly and not like himself at all.

Finn's magazine clapped shut and he set it aside, his jaw tense. "Kurt, I thought you were dead," he said. His tone was still flat, but he was glaring at Kurt with more rage than Kurt had previously thought possible.

Kurt didn't know what Finn wanted him to say, so he didn't say anything.

Finn raked his fingers through his hair (which was already sticking up in all directions) and continued. "Do you have any idea what that was like?" he demanded. "To walk in and see you like that?"

"Finn, I—"

"I thought you were dead."

The blood drained from Kurt's face as he realized that Finn's eyes were threatening to spill over. "I…" he faltered. "I don't know what you want me to—"

Finn interrupted, his voice now graveled and forced. "I want you to tell me what the hell you were thinking."

Kurt swallowed. "Finn, I wasn't there—"

Finn cut him off a second time. "I was covered in your blood, Kurt. It took me a half an hour to clean it off, and Mom can't get the stains out of the carpet in the hallway and we're going to have to live with them now, and—" Finn paused to sniff and pull at his hair again. "Every time I walk upstairs, I'll be reminded of that."

Kurt took a long, deep breath, feeling Robbie tug at the reins. He pushed Robbie back, though. He was going to handle this himself, damn it.

"Tell me what the hell you expect me to do," Finn said. He sounded tired. "'Cause I really don't know. And if this was because of Eleanor or Craig or whoever, I don't care. I won't go through that again. You tell the people inside your head that they might not be my brother, but you are. And this is not what I signed up for."

Kurt stared at Finn for a long time, watching him watch the floor. Finally, Kurt mustered up the courage to say, "Finn, I'm sorry, okay? I'm so sorry. But I'm not in control of myself, and I need you to help me with—"

"I'm sick of helping you!" Finn snapped, and Kurt flinched. "I've been helping you, and all I've been able to get out of it is abuse and this!" He was on his feet now, gesturing wildly at Kurt and his bandaged arms.

"Finn, these people… they're not me—"

"I don't care!" Finn shouted. "You're insane!"

Finn turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him and leaving Kurt feeling like he'd been sliced in half.