"Code Grey, four fifty-seven. Code Grey, four fifty-seven."

The words from the hospital's PA system earlier that afternoon echoed in Burt's mind as he sat in Kurt's ward, coffee in hand and eyes unfocused. It had been hours since Kurt had been sedated, but Burt was still wide awake despite the fact that it was nearly midnight. He'd come back from the cafeteria around five to find Kurt screaming at the nurses, his hospital gown stained with blood after he'd torn out his IV. He'd been hitting and spitting and showing no signs of calming down until two male nurses were able to wrestle him to the floor and stick a needle in his thigh, leaving Burt with absolutely no explanation for what had prompted it.

Burt had sent Finn and Carole home at eight, and he was tired too but he couldn't allow his brain to realize it just yet. Not until Kurt was home and all the knives and scissors had been locked up. He didn't want Eleanor to get inspired again.

He'd been exhausted for years. A few more days wasn't going to kill him.

Of course, he'd been telling himself that ever since Kurt was eight years old.

Looking at Kurt now, it was hard to believe that the kid ever was eight years old. He'd lost weight (most likely thanks to Robbie), and he looked stretched and worn even in sleep. His buzzed haircut gave him at least ten extra years, and the pallid tone to his skin (since he hadn't quite regained all the blood he'd lost) accented the sharper angles of his face. Kurt twitched in his sleep, which was beginning to look more like actual sleep rather than something drug-induced, and rolled over, facing away.

Burt leaned his head back against the wall, his eyelids scraping against his corneas, and there was an odd rift in time, like a scratched DVD skipping ahead. Burt was sitting up with a stiff neck and a stiff back, and the morning sunlight was streaming in through the windows. He wondered if this was what Kurt experienced every time he transitioned back into himself.

"You snore. A lot."

Burt noticed that Kurt was awake, sitting up, and staring at him. "Yeah, well, nothing I can do about that," he replied, massaging his sore neck. "So, who are you now?" Usually Burt could immediately tell just from Kurt's facial expression, but he wasn't fully awake yet and somehow he felt more exhausted than he had before he'd fallen asleep.

"Robbie."

"Kurt still upset?"

"Yep."

"Have you had breakfast?"

Kurt shrugged, grimacing. "I choked down half a roll. And no, you're not gonna get me to eat anything more. It's not even good food." He made a face and turned his attention back to the book propped up in his lap.

"What are you reading?" Burt asked through a yawn as he stretched out his arms.

"Some crap that one of the nurses gave me. She said she couldn't finish it, and I can tell exactly why." Kurt rolled his eyes and snapped the book shut, tossing it into the trashcan by the bed. He sat back, glaring boredly out the window. "So, are there any more annoying friends coming to visit today?"

"Rachel said she might drop by again."

Kurt made a face again. "Oh, God, not her. She makes me twitch."

Burt surprised himself by chuckling. "Yeah, Rachel's a piece of work," he agreed. "But she loves Kurt, I know that much."

Kurt shrugged. "Who loves Kurt and who doesn't isn't really a concern of mine."

Burt sighed. He'd heard Kurt's alters speak callously about Kurt and the people surrounding him so often that he wasn't even sure it bothered him any more. He supposed it should, though.

"Robbie, can I ask you something?"

Kurt was still looking out the window, but he gave a noncommittal shrug, which Burt took as a yes.

"When Eleanor came out yesterday," Burt said slowly, a little nervous of what the answer might be. "…What was it for? What made her come out?"

"Who knows why the fuck Eleanor does what she does," Kurt snapped.

Burt's mouth twitched. The brusque statement had sounded a lot more defensive than his question should've warranted, so he opened his mouth to try to coax Robbie into answering honestly, but Kurt spoke again.

"Don't listen to Robbie, he doesn't know anything."

Burt stopped short, caught off-guard by the fact that Eleanor had emerged without him seeing the switch. Kurt slouched down against the stack of pillows, his arms crossed tightly. He was watching his father with what could only be described as bitter disdain.

"He's protecting the wrong person," Kurt spat, almost looking like he was talking to himself.

Burt was about to repeat his question previously directed at Robbie, but Kurt's statement made his words catch in his throat. "Wait… Robbie is?"

"He's always mixed up," Kurt said, rolling his eyes. "Got the wrong ideas."

"What… what do you mean?"

"Shut the fuck up!" Robbie's voice suddenly snarled. Kurt's head whipped to the side, almost like someone was pulling it. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

Burt flinched. He'd never seen Kurt switch this rapidly, and it couldn't be a good sign.

Eleanor returned immediately, nearly yelling, "I'm not going to be blamed for all of Kurt's shit any more!"

Burt lurched to his feet and sat on the bed by Kurt's feet, grabbing both of Kurt's hands. They had curled into fists as Kurt's brain conflicted with itself. "Eleanor, shh," Burt said, as calmly as he could. "Look at me."

Kurt didn't seem to hear him, his eyes squeezing shut and his neck tensing. His breath had quickened.

"Eleanor, tell me what's going on," Burt pressed.

"You always protect him!" Kurt cried, his hands clenching under Burt's fingers. Somehow, Burt didn't think that Kurt was talking to him. "You always protect him and you shouldn't!"

"Says the girl who fucking tried to kill him!" Robbie's voice growled back. "We're in here because of you!"

"I didn't do anything!" Eleanor screamed, yanking Kurt's hands away from Burt. "Why are you defending him? He tried to kill you! He tried to kill all of us, and you know it!"

Kurt gripped his head, his spine curled over and his face twisted in pain. Burt felt absolutely helpless. "Eleanor, I need to talk to Kurt," he said, his blood roaring in his ears.

Neither Eleanor nor Robbie responded, and Kurt stayed still, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his head.

"Is he okay?"

Burt turned around to see that Finn was standing in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. "I don't know," Burt replied. He frowned. "Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

"It's Saturday," Finn mumbled.

Burt had been so preoccupied and had only left the hospital to go home and shower, so he'd completely lost track of what day of the week it was. He knew he needed to get back to work – after all, he wasn't just a mechanic any more – but for now, his assistant at the office was covering for him.

He sighed, relieved that Finn had shown up. As much as Burt wanted to be the one that Kurt would run to every time he needed an anchor, Finn seemed to be the only person who (somewhat) consistently had the grounding effect that Kurt needed. And Kurt desperately needed it right now.

Finn edged closer to the bed, watching Kurt warily. "So, what's going on? Why's he like this?"

Burt exhaled slowly. "He hasn't been able to tell me. Maybe you'll have better luck?"

Finn hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I don't know if…" He shook his head. "Never mind." Swallowing, Finn reached out towards Kurt, about to put a hand on his shoulder.

Before Burt could really process what was happening, Kurt uncurled his body and lunged at Finn. Finn yelped and leaped back, a hand to his face. Burt quickly stood up and pushed Kurt back, gripping him by the shoulders. "You okay?" he said to Finn.

"Yeah," Finn breathed, rubbing his cheek. "He just scratched me is all."

"FUCK YOU!" Kurt screamed at Finn, thrashing against Burt's arms.

Burt held him in place, knowing that Eleanor's rage was misplaced, as always.