Burt yawned as he sat down at the kitchen table for breakfast the next morning, his eyes shadowed and his face drawn. Carole gave him a mug of coffee before sitting beside Finn, who was halfway through scarfing down a plate of scrambled eggs. She told him to slow down; the food wasn't running away from him.

"You going to be okay today, Carole?" Burt asked.

"We'll be fine," she replied, sipping her tea. She didn't sound like she believed it.

Finn swallowed his last bite (or rather shovelful) of breakfast and grabbed his backpack off the coat rack by the door. "I'll see you after school," he said, shrugging on his coat and heading out to his truck.

Carole drank her tea in silence for several minutes, studying Burt and trying to tell if he was handling his distress well or if he was only hiding it. "Burt, did you get any sleep last night at all?" she prompted, setting her mug on the table.

As if on cue, he yawned again, rubbing the back of his neck. "I got about an hour, I think."

Carole didn't have to ask what was keeping him up. Her legs were still sore from sitting in an uncomfortable position for hours yesterday, with Kurt's weight on her lap, and seeing Schism emerge was never a pleasant experience for anyone, especially Burt. One of the things Carole had come to love most about her stepson is that his thoughts were always written on his face, though he was probably not aware of it. Even when he was daydreaming or zoning out, she could always tell what the weather was like in his head. Schism was the exact opposite, and she wasn't even sure if Schism had any thoughts at all. He was just… a vacuum. And Carole would prefer even Craig to nothing.

"Last night," Burt said, staring into his coffee mug. "Craig came down and talked with me for a minute."

Carole frowned. Burt wouldn't have brought a conversation with Craig up unless Craig had said something strange.

"He still thinks Kurt's his kid."

"Well, we've always known that, Burt. Dr. Goldberg says that probably won't change," Carole reminded him gently. "Did Craig say anything else?"

Burt's forehead was knitted very tightly as he spoke. "He said… that I've never protected Kurt. That it's my fault Kurt's the way he is."

Carole immediately reached across the table and placed her hand over Burt's. "Honey, you know that's not even a little bit true."

"I'm not so sure it isn't," he said quietly.

"No, Burt—"

He cut her off firmly. "Look what happened last year with that Karofsky kid. I had no idea that was even going on until I saw it for myself," he said. "I didn't protect him."

"Burt, stop—"

"I'm not saying that I'm the one who's entirely to blame, Carole," Burt said, shaking his head and laying his hands flat against the table. "But what if there's something else that Kurt's trying to tell me?"

Carole frowned. "Like what?"

Burt swallowed, studying the backs of his hands. When he spoke, it was in a low tone that Carole didn't like. "What if Goldberg's right about the flashbacks?"

"There's no way to tell if those are anything more than dreams."

"But what if they are?"

Carole sighed and sat back. She hated this entire situation. She felt useless and ill-equipped, and there were too many 'what ifs' involved to know anything for certain. "Well, what should we do?" she asked. "Kurt's going into the hospital soon."

"I know," Burt ran a hand over his face.

"Maybe…" Carole started, biting the inside of her cheek. "Maybe we should just put all of our energy – for the time being – towards making sure the transition into the hospital is as easy for Kurt as we can make it."

Burt exhaled heavily, clamping his mouth shut as if he was trying not to yell. He looked as if he were about to say something, but a voice from behind him interrupted.

"Dad?"

Kurt was standing in the kitchen doorway, dressed in plaid pajama pants and a grey t-shirt, his face blotchy and worn. He seemed to be trying to curl into himself even as he stood, his arms hugging his torso.

"Are you okay?" Burt asked. The question was so much heavier than it would have been in any other circumstance, and Carole felt it suck the air out of the room.

Kurt didn't respond, instead unfolding one of his arms to hand a scrap of paper to Burt. "Appalachian," he said, his voice hoarse. "I want to go to Appalachian."

Burt took the paper to see that it was the list of hospitals he'd tried to give to Kurt the night before: Twin Valley Behavioral Healthcare. Summit Behavioral Healthcare. Heartland Behavioral Healthcare. Belmont Pines Hospital. Appalachian Behavioral Healthcare. Northwest Ohio Psychiatric Hospital. Aside from Belmont Pines, they were all state hospitals – affordable.

"You…" Burt started. "You decided?"

Kurt looked down, scuffing his bare feet against the kitchen floor. "I was up all night looking at the websites," he said tremblingly. "Appalachian looks best."

"Okay," Burt replied. "I'll call them to set up an interview."

Kurt nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He turned to leave, but his knees suddenly gave out and he crashed to the floor.

Burt and Carole jumped to their feet, rolling Kurt over and trying to get him to sit up. His eyes were open, but he wasn't responding to their calls, nor was he sitting up on his own. His head lolled back against Burt's arm.

"Come on, Kurt, wake up," Burt repeated, shaking him slightly.

"Burt, stop," Carole said, squeezing Burt's shoulder. "You know Schism doesn't just leave when we ask him to."

Burt forced himself to take a deep breath. "Okay," he said a moment later. "I'll take him over to the couch."

He stood up and then, with a grunt of effort (Kurt was eighteen, after all – already physically a man), carried Kurt into the living room and put him on the couch. Kurt's eyes stayed fully open, blank but awake. Carole draped a knitted blanket over Kurt's shoulders that he didn't notice and planted a kiss on the side of Kurt's head.

Wrapping one arm around Burt's lower back, Carole nudged him affectionately. "Hey," she said.

"Hm?" He pulled his eyes away from his collapsed son to look down at her.

"He'll be okay," she promised. "He will."

Burt nodded, exhaling slowly. "I hope to God you're right."

Schism stayed right where he was for the entire day, which made easy work for Carole. Burt had been forced to go into the office to start to catch up on some of the work he'd been leaving to his assistant, and so Carole had agreed to not go into her own work until Kurt was situated in the Appalachian Behavioral Healthcare center in Athens.

When Finn got home, Carole was upstairs cleaning the bathroom.

"Mom?" he called.

"Yeah, honey, I'm up here," she answered, scrubbing some grime off the base of the faucet.

A minute later Finn appeared in the bathroom doorway. "Has Schism been out all day?" he asked.

"Since breakfast," she said.

"Jesus. What happened?"

"He settled on a hospital. It… wasn't easy."

Finn nodded understandingly, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. "Hey, are you free tomorrow night?"

Carole glanced up, dropping her sponge onto the counter next to the sink. "Sure, what's going on?"

"Well, Rachel's dads are having some sort of dinner for all of us."

"The Glee club?"

"No, you, Burt, and me."

Carole's eyebrows shot up. "Really? Why?"

Finn shrugged. "Rachel gave me an explanation, but it was kind of wordy," he said, and Carole chuckled. "As far as I understand, her dads figure that since she and I are going steady the families might as well get to know each other."

"Well, that sounds wonderful," she said. "But, um… only I or Burt can go with you. One of us has to stay here with Kurt."

"I know that," Finn replied. "That's why I asked you if you were free."

"You want Burt to go with you?"

"Uh, no? You're my mom," Finn said. "Burt's an awesome stepdad, but I'd rather you came, since I have to choose."

Carole beamed. "Well, in that case, I am absolutely free."