It had become something of a routine since November when Sam had moved in for him to hang out on the floor of Rachel's room for a few hours nearly every weeknight while they completed their homework. He would help her with the science assignments (which she just did not get) and she'd help him with… well, everything else.

Now, Sam was sitting cross-legged on the carpet with his back propped up against the foot of Rachel's bed and his copy of The Tempest open on his lap. Rachel, who had already finished all her work, was at her desk and clacking away at her laptop, already in her pajamas despite the fact that it was only nine-thirty. There was a knock on the door and Hiram stuck his head in.

"You guys chipping away at your little mountain of homework?" he said.

"Slowly but surely, I guess," answered Sam.

"I finished," Rachel replied. "I'm looking up possible songs for my NYADA audition."

"I expect to hear a pre-audition performance of whichever one you choose," Hiram insisted.

Rachel smiled, grateful of her fathers' involvement in her career preparation.

"Rach, can I talk to you for a second before I go to bed?" Hiram requested, nodding pointedly to the hallway behind him.

Rachel frowned, but stood to follow him out of the room, leaving Sam on his own with William Shakespeare. "Is something wrong?" she asked, keeping her voice down.

Hiram replied in an equally hushed tone. "I just had a call from Kurt's dad—"

Rachel's eyes flew open and she tensed up. "What happened? Is Kurt okay?"

"He's fine," Hiram assured her. "At least, as far as I know – I don't think Mr. Hummel would share that information with me." Hiram shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "Anyways, he asked me to stop looking into who this Franklin guy is."

Rachel's frown snapped back into place, deeper than before. "They're giving up?" she demanded. "They can't do that! What about—?"

Hiram quickly lifted a hand, asking her to keep her voice down. Rachel pressed her lips together, remembering that he'd told her about the half-formed investigation in confidence (and Sam was kind of within earshot).

"They're not giving up," Hiram continued. "They're just setting it aside for a little while, until Kurt starts to make progress in the hospital. They want to focus on getting the whole healing process started. I'm asking you not to try to take it any further, or talk to Kurt about it. I'm not even sure he knew Burt was looking into it."

Rachel sighed, swallowing. "…So he's really going, then? They're locking him up?"

Hiram placed a hand on her shoulder. "Mental hospitals aren't prisons, Rachaela. He's not going to be behind bars. It's just a place where he doesn't have to worry about anything except getting better, and from the sound of it he's never really had a chance to do that. So, if you want to help him you should support the hospitalization as much as you can."

She remained silent for several seconds, her arms hugging her chest while she stared at her father's shoes.

"Rachel?" Hiram prompted.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay. I guess I'll call up Finn tomorrow and see if I can see Kurt one last time before he leaves."

"That's my girl." Hiram pulled her into a tight hug and bid her a good night before heading off down the hall to his own bedroom. Rachel tugged on the ends of her hair anxiously before returning to her room.

"Everything okay?" Sam asked, his eyebrows knitted together in concern.

Rachel nodded as she fell heavily back onto her desk chair. "Yeah. It's just... Kurt's going into the hospital is all."

Sam blinked. "That wasn't the plan already?"

"No, it was, but… I guess it's final now."

"Oh."

Rachel shook her head and closed her laptop. "I don't feel like looking for audition numbers any more," she murmured, feeling a sharp stabbing ache in the base of her throat. Her eyes prickled slightly, but she blinked until the feeling was gone.

"You want to head to bed?" Sam asked. "I can study in the guest room."

"No, that's okay," she replied softly. "I'm not tired, and I don't think I could sleep anyways. I'd rather just talk about something else."

"Okay."

She swiveled her chair around, then came over and sat on the floor next to him. "Need any help with Shakespeare?"

Sam grinned. "I don't understand anything he wrote."

Rachel pulled her knees up to her chest, thankful for the distraction. "What part are you having trouble with specifically?"

"The Harpy scene," Sam said, handing his book to her so that she could read the lines herself. "I don't really get why it's happening. Or what a Harpy is."

Rachel quirked her eyebrows. "Haven't you ever read Greek mythology?"

"…I saw Hercules once…"

"A Harpy's a creature that steals good things from bad people," Rachel explained, trying to think of the simplest way to describe it. "It's a divine punishment thing. Look. After Ariel transforms into the Harpy, he says 'for which foul deed, the powers delaying, not forgetting, have incensed the seas and shores. Yea, all the creatures against your peace… Lingering perdition shall step by step attend you and your ways.'"

Sam gave her a blank look.

Rachel huffed through her nose, well used to Sam's slow processing. "It means that no matter how long you wait, you alwayshave to pay for your sins."

Burt's throat was still sore when he knocked on Kurt's bedroom door at ten-thirty that night. They'd finally gotten home around eight, but Kurt had disappeared upstairs and no one had heard anything from him since. On Burt's way to bed he'd noticed that the light in Kurt's room was still on.

"Kurt?" he called softly. There was no response from the other side of the door, but since they hadn't heard anything from Kurt's room all night, Burt was hopeful that Kurt hadn't done anything too worrisome. "Kurt, I'm coming in." He twisted the handle and swung the door open hesitantly.

Kurt was lying on his bed, curled with his back to the door and his hands over his ears. Burt sighed, closing the door behind him and circling around the foot of the bed to sit by Kurt's feet. Kurt's eyes were squeezed shut and he was breathing steadily through his nose, a rhythm that Burt had figured out years ago to be one of Kurt's very few calming methods that actually worked.

"Kurt," he said, placing a hand on Kurt's leg.

Kurt started, his hands lifting and his eyes snapping open.

"Hey, you okay?"

Kurt blinked, swallowing audibly. His eyes were watery and every muscle was tense, as if he was afraid that Burt was going to do something bad. He didn't move.

"Are you okay?" Burt repeated.

Staring back warily, Kurt drew a shuddering breath. "Are you going to hit me?"

Burt mentally kicked himself for not realizing that Kurt wasn't even there, then frowned at the question. "Why would you think that?"

Kurt's lip trembled. "Be-because Craig tried to kill you."

"Tyler," Burt said firmly. "That wasn't you. And it wasn't Kurt, either. And no matter what, I'm not like Craig, all right? I'd never hit you."

"Craig says you will," Kurt sniffed. He'd sat up by this point, but he still hadn't relaxed and seemed to be drawing away from Burt's hand.

"Don't listen to Craig," Burt said. "Craig's a bully."

Kurt looked… offended? He shook his head. "No, he isn't. He helps us."

Confused, Burt frowned and cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

Kurt shrunk back, looking away and speaking in a whisper. "He keeps the bad man away."

Burt's eyes widened, and he seized the opportunity. "Tyler, who's the bad man?"

"I can't tell you."

"Do you know who it is?"

Kurt's face contorted as he swallowed a whimper. "Yes."

"Then tell me."

"NO!"

Burt jumped back as Kurt drew his leg back and kicked him hard in the chest. He stared for a long moment as Kurt pressed himself back against the headboard of his bed, glaring back at Burt through unshed tears, clearly terrified that Burt would do what Craig predicted.

Before Burt could say or do anything else, though, Kurt's shoulders slumped and his head lolled for a split second before he sat upright again. He coughed and blinked. "Dad?"

Burt let out a breath and smiled as steadily as he could. "Hey, kiddo. Welcome back."

The tears that Tyler had been holding back suddenly rushed back and Kurt curled his arms around his torso, needing the physical support but afraid to ask his father for it. "Dad, I'm so sorry—" he choked out. "I—"

Burt immediately leaned forward and grabbed Kurt firmly by the shoulders, forcing his son to look him in the eye. "Kurt, none of this is your fault, okay?" he said. "None of it. I don't care how often the alters tell you it is. They're wrong. And I don't give a flying rat's ass how many times they punch me. I am your father, and I'm not going anywhere. You got that?"

Kurt seemed to be too emotional to speak, so he only gave a shaky nod.

"I'm gonna stay in here with you tonight, okay?" Burt said, still gripping Kurt's shoulders but loosening the hold slightly.

Kurt sniffed, his face blotchy and his eyes bloodshot. "But you snore…" he hiccoughed.

Burt shrugged. "Tough luck, kiddo. I'm staying."