Finn came back from a cafeteria run to find Karofsky standing just inside the door of Kurt's room, and instinctively prepared himself for a fight. "You can't be in here," he said in lieu of a greeting.

Karofsky glanced back at Kurt nervously, and Finn could immediately tell that whatever had happened in this few minutes he'd been gone had opened Karofsky's eyes to who Kurt really was.

"You need to leave," he pressed. "Now. You have to go."

Karofsky still didn't move, though Finn couldn't tell whether it was just from shock or because he didn't want to leave. Kurt sent his former bully a look that said Sorry, not my problem, confirming Finn's suspicion that Kurt wasn't even there.

Finn decided to take control of the situation. He grabbed Karofsky by the arm and yanked him into the hall, shutting the door tightly behind him. "Okay, look," he said, shoving his old teammate further down the corridor so as to be out of earshot. "Whatever friendship that you and Kurt have now that you're at another school? It's gone. Forget it."

"What?" was Karofsky's eloquent response.

"Kurt can't have you around him," Finn said forcefully. "You make him stressed, and stress makes him switch."

"I-I… I don't understand," Karofsky stammered. "How long has he been like this?"

Finn sighed, pulling his fingers through his hair. "A long time. Look," he said again. "You— What Kurt does… it's to protect himself. And, yeah, Kurt's forgiven you for all the crap you put him through, but the alters? They haven't. Frankly, neither have I." Finn crossed his arms, his face hard. "And his dad definitely hasn't."

Karofsky shook his head. "No," he argued. "No, I've changed; you—"

"I don't care if you've changed or not," Finn cut him off sharply. "It's not about you. It's about how what you did affected Kurt."

"But that was a long time ago—"

"I know. That's the point; that's what this is." Finn let out a heavy breath, knowing that Karofsky wouldn't leave until he had more of an understanding of the situation. "Kurt's trapped, okay? He's stuck in all this crap that happened years ago, and you being here is only going to make it harder for him to get better."

"Why?" Karofsky protested. "I mean, Kurt told me himself – we're okay now."

"What Kurt told you doesn't matter," Finn countered, shaking his head.

Karofsky frowned. "What, he lied?"

"No. Kurt didn't lie – he's just not connected. His brain is not going to let go of everything you made him deal with, because hecan't deal with it," Finn insisted. He stepped aside for a second to allow a nurse in purple scrubs to pass by and enter Kurt's room, presumably to change the bandages on Kurt's arms. "He might not even remember what you did to him – whatever he was feeling has been pushed into some other part of his brain because that's what his brain is. It's just pieces."

"This is insane—"

Finn nodded. "Yeah, it is. It's crazy. But there's nothing we can do about it right now except try to keep him from getting stressed, which is why you have to go."

"I still don't get why—"

This time, Karofsky was cut off by a scathing yell from Kurt's room, and Finn whipped around, not really caring that Karofsky had lost all the color in his face in less than a second.

"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME, YOU FUCKING WHORE."

Not leaving any room for himself to think, Finn broke into a run and rushed back into the room. The nurse who'd entered a few moments before yelped, leaping away from Kurt's reach. His reflexes taking over, Finn bolted to the bed and grabbed his stepbrother around the torso just as the smaller boy was about to lunge at the nurse.

"Can we get some help in here?!" Finn shouted, struggling to keep Kurt down. The nurse whimpered and scurried out and down the hallway.

Kurt legs kicked and his fists beat at Finn's chest, but Finn couldn't let himself acknowledge just how much it hurt. He gritted his teeth as he tried to control Kurt's arms, but (he couldn't be sure where it had come from) the skin was suddenly slick with blood and his palms were slipping, coming away wet and red. Kurt's hand somehow worked itself free and his fingernails whipped across Finn's throat.

Ignoring the searing pain radiating from his neck, Finn grabbed Kurt's free arm and pinned it against the bed. "Let Kurt out," he snarled. "Whoever you are, let him out. Come on, Kurt, wake up."

"Out of the way!" a doctor just running into the room ordered, pushing Finn aside.

Exhaling slowly and trying to stop his nerves from feeling like they were charged with static, Finn gratefully stepped back and let the doctor and nurses try to handle it. He ran the back of his hand over his face, heading back to the door. He didn't want to be here for this.

In the hallway, Finn found Karofsky still standing there, just staring through the ward window as Kurt was jabbed in the leg with a syringe. Finn let out a breath and leaned back against the wall by the door.

"He's not always like this," Finn said, closing his eyes for a minute. He was tired – in his head, in his body, in his bones. "In case you were wondering."

Karofsky's gaze didn't waver. "I thought you said he's been sick for a long time."

"He has, just… not this bad," Finn clarified. "He's dealing with a lot of crap."

"Whoa," Karofsky said, blanching. "Why's he bleeding?"

Finn glanced at his palms, which bore a few smears of blood from when he'd grabbed Kurt's arms. "Must've ripped his stitches."

"Jesus."

The two of them were silent for a long while, until Finn finally spoke. "Karofsky, you know that it would never have worked out, right?" he said.

Karofsky glanced at him for a moment before returning his eyes to the window. "What do you mean?" he asked absentmindedly.

"Between you and Kurt," Finn replied. "Even if he wasn't sick, it wouldn't have worked out."

This time, Karofsky fully turned to face him. "Why not?"

"Well, your first mistake was coming out to him by assaulting him," Finn responded dryly, not really caring that the statement made Karofsky wince.

"You know about that?"

Finn shrugged. "He's my brother." He straightened up, stepping away from the wall. "I'm going to go clean up. It'll probably be best if you're gone when I get back."

In the waiting area by the nurse's station, Finn was taking a break from being in the same room as Kurt when Burt came over and sat down beside him. Burt had gotten back only a half hour earlier from going home to shower and change, but since Kurt was still out cold from the Haldol injection, there wasn't much of a reason to stay in the room. Finn had made sure not to mention Karofsky's visit – Burt didn't need to be stressing out over anything else, and while Finn didn't exactly like Karofsky, he knew him well enough to know when he was a threat and when he wasn't.

"You doing okay?" Burt asked, adjusting his cap on his head.

Finn nodded, flipping the page of the NASCAR magazine in his hands. "Yeah. Are you?"

"All things considered, sure." Burt yawned widely and rubbed a palm over his face. "I'm going to have to go back to work soon. Linus isn't going to cover my ass for me much longer."

"Every time you talk about your assistant, I picture him with a blue blanket and a thumb in his mouth," Finn remarked.

Burt grinned. "I know, so do I. And I work with him."

Finn sighed and placed the magazine on the low table next to his chair. "You want me to make a coffee run?"

"Nah, thanks," Burt said, flapping a hand. "Had some at home." He paused, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Finn, are we putting too much pressure on you?" he asked abruptly.

Finn frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"You babysit Kurt a lot," Burt replied. "That's a lot of responsibility for someone who's just a kid."

"I'm eighteen."

"You know what I meant, Finn," Burt said sternly. "But I never really thought that you'd say no, and because of that I forgot that you had a right to."

Finn's frown deepened. "Why do I have a right to say no?"

"Look, you're not his brother, technically spe—"

"Yes, I am," Finn interrupted. "But it is too much."

Burt nodded. "Okay," he said. "Okay, so what can we do?"

Finn sighed, looking ahead, towards the nurse's station rather than at his stepfather. "Did…" he started, unsure of how Burt might react. "Did you ever think that maybe… maybe Kurt would be better off in some kind of home? Some place where they know what to do with him?"

Burt let out a long breath. "Yeah," he said. "'Course I did. I mean, you've seen what Eleanor and Craig can do; the messes that Truman's got him into. But… Jesus. I can't send Kurt to a psych ward."

"What if you have to?"

Burt scratched at his jaw. "You have any idea of the kinda people that live in those places? They're… they're scary, Finn. I can't in good conscience send my kid to one of those places."

"Kurt is one of those people, Burt," Finn said. "I don't want him living anywhere except at home, but what if we're only making it worse?"

Burt clenched his jaw and stayed silent for several minutes, and Finn could almost watch the heavy gears spinning in Burt's head. Eventually, he let out a short, heavy breath, and spoke.

"I'll… I'll start looking at some places close to Lima."

Scandals was even less crowded than usual that evening as Dave approached the bar and ordered a beer from Julian, the bartender. He came here often enough to know that Monday nights were always the slowest, but for once he was grateful for the absence of the crowd – he just needed a familiar place to have a drink.

Dave's Heineken bottle was only a quarter empty when Sebastian took the stool beside him. Dave frowned at the Dalton boy. "…There a reason you're sitting with me?"

Sebastian glanced at him for a moment, then ordered a beer from Julian. "We're processing the same stuff, aren't we?" he said, leaning his elbows on the bar.

"How would you know?"

"Please," Sebastian scoffed. "You're the most blatantly obvious person I know. I know you're head over heels for Kurt, and so it makes sense that all… this—" He gestured distastefully at Dave's general shape. "—is Kurt's fault."

Dave frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"There's not a lot of things that could make you this obviously upset. So, unless you were accidentally outed at school or something, I'm willing to bet that you found out about Kurt and his counterparts."

Dave sighed. He knew better than to argue with Sebastian – the kid was a shark. "Yeah, okay. I did."

"How?"

Dave took a long gulp of his beer before responding. "Came face to face with it."

Sebastian picked up his own beer. "Yeah? Me too."

Dave blinked at him. "You mean… that night—?"

The Dalton boy nodded.

"Jesus."

"Yeah."

"Well, here's to Kurt, I guess," Dave said, holding out his beer.

For a few seconds Sebastian seemed like he was debating whether or not he should toast, but then he nodded and clinked his bottle against Dave's. "To Kurt."