Monday morning passed in a haze for Finn. He ate breakfast with his mom and sat at lunch with his friends and wasn't avoiding anyone, but he didn't make any effort to fully integrate himself either. The other kids asked him multiple times if Kurt was all right, and he only nodded and shrugged off the questions. Rachel was even more jittery than she normally was, fluttering around him like a moth around a lamp and asking him at least five times an hour if he was all right and if he wanted to talk about Kurt being shipped off to the nuthouse.

He really wasn't in the mood to sit through Glee rehearsal and try to learn the choreography for Regionals, but Rachel managed to get him into the choir room anyway, prattling on about how some rigorous dancing and singing routines would probably take his mind off everything for a little while.

She seemed to have forgotten that they were dedicating the performance at Regionals to Kurt, and therefore it wouldn't take his mind off anything.

Finally, halfway through rehearsal when Finn missed the same step for the twentieth time, Mr. Schue pulled him out of the formation and told the rest of the club to take a break. "Come on," Mr. Schue said, patting Finn on the shoulder and leading him into the tiny office annex attached to the choir room. "Have a seat."

Finn sat, knowing exactly what was coming and trying not to snap at his teacher before Mr. Schue was even allowed a chance to speak.

"How are you doing, Finn?" Mr. Schue asked, sinking into the chair behind his desk.

"I'm fine," Finn said, delivering the standard response that he'd already repeated at least thirty times that day.

"I, uh…" Mr. Schue fiddled with a pen, twisting the cap in his fingers. "I heard Kurt was admitted to the hospital this weekend."

Finn nodded. "He left yesterday."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Finn rolled his eyes before he could stop himself.

Mr. Schue coughed. "Sorry. You've probably answered that enough times."

"What do you want to talk about, Mr. Schue?" Finn sighed, just wanting to get this over with so he could go home and play his mindless videogames and not think.

"Finn, I don't think it's news to you that it's obvious you're having a hard time coping with all this," Mr. Schue said.

"Isn't it Miss Pillsbury's job to talk to me about this?"

"Well, the last time she tried, you yelled at her and stormed out, so…" Mr. Schue shrugged. "Maybe you should take a few days off school."

Finn clenched his jaw for a moment. "Look, I know I've been kind of pissed the last couple weeks, but there's just been a lot going on at home, and now that stuff's done with so there's no point in keeping me there. There's nothing to do there; sending me home won't solve anything."

Mr. Schue nodded, and Finn was almost surprised that the teacher thought his argument was legitimate. "Okay," he said. "But you do need to focus your energies on your schoolwork and rehearsal. We need you for Regionals. We're already missing one key player, and we can't miss two."

Finn's fingers twitched involuntarily at that.

"So," Mr. Schue continued, oblivious to Finn's irritation. "I'm giving you a special assignment."

Finn blinked. "What?"

"You need to vent, Finn, that's completely understandable. Talking with Miss Pillsbury didn't work, you can't focus on rehearsal, and your other teachers have all said that you've been losing track of your classes."

"What are you talking about?"

Mr. Schue sat back in his chair, still fiddling with his pen. "I want you to do a solo," he said. "Not for the club, just for you. Pick a song that really allows you to let out all the stuff you're bottling up."

Finn stared at him.

Mr. Schue twisted the cap on his pen anxiously, like he was waiting for Finn to do something.

"Wow," Finn said at long last. Mr. Schue's eyebrows snapped together. "You're an ass."

"What—?"

Finn stood up and pushed through the door to the choir room, storming straight across the floor and out into the hallway and ignoring the confused glances that the rest of the club members were casting him. The door slammed shut and he headed down the hall toward the parking lot.

"Finn, wait!" came Rachel's voice from behind him.

Gritting his teeth, he stopped in his tracks and turned around, waiting for Rachel to catch up. "Rach, I'm really not in a good spot right now to talk, okay?" he said quickly. He didn't have enough space in his head to be all that concerned about the slightly hurt expression on her face.

"I just wanted to make sure you were—"

Something in the center of Finn's brain clicked like a light switch, and he cut her off with a shout.

"I'm not okay!"

Rachel flinched slightly, her arms crossed protectively over her chest as Finn kept going, his mouth running on autopilot.

"But you know what? I don't have a right to talk about it! Because Kurt's the one with all the problems, not me!" Finn's voice was rising, but at the moment he didn't really care. "And every single time I try to help him, it comes around and bites me in the ass!" he shouted. "I didn't go through any of the crap that Kurt did, but at least Kurt's got an excuse for when he can't control things! Well, good for him!"

Rachel blinked, for once saying nothing as Finn stood there out of breath.

Raking a hand through his hair, Finn shook his head and walked away.

In the middle of the night, Carole woke to find Burt sitting up in bed, wide awake and staring out the window at the moonlit snow covering their back yard. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she pulled herself up against the headboard next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder and clasping one of his hands in her own.

"Can't sleep?" she said softly.

He didn't look away from the window, but his cheek rested against the crown of her head. "I can't get rid of the feeling like I did something wrong."

"Oh, Burt…" she sighed, her thumb brushing over the back of his hand. "If anything, you've done everything right. I'm so proud of you."

Burt was quiet for several minutes, and Carole could practically hear the gears whirring in his head.

"When Kurt was ten, he… he got into a fight at school with another kid," Burt said eventually. "It wasn't anything major; just kid stuff. I think he stole Kurt's snack or something. But the school called me up and asked me to come down for a talk with the principal and the counselor, and at first I didn't really get it because they just seemed more worried than they should've been. And then… then they told me what Kurt did."

Carole could feel Burt's shoulders tense up and she wasn't really sure she wanted to know the details of what Burt was talking about, but she remained silent.

"The other kid was in the hospital for a week," he said. "He had five broken ribs and a cracked skull."

"Oh my god," Carole whispered. "Kurt did that when he was ten?"

"I think… that might've been the first time Craig really showed up, but I…" He shook his head, sniffing. "Kurt had to switch schools after that. I had a real serious talk with him about it, and he… he didn't remember a thing. He kept saying he didn't do it. I thought he was lying so I'd go easy on him, so I doubled the consequences. I should've seen it."

Carole swallowed, squeezing Burt's forearm. "Burt, you didn't know what was going on. That was eight years ago."

"I know."

Sighing and glancing at the tendrils of frost creeping up the windows, Carole snuggled closer to him. "He'll be okay," she said. "And so will you."

"Carole, I'm so sorry I got you and Finn mixed up in all this. I know it's too much."

Carole's head snapped up. "Burt, I swear to God, I'm going to slap you in the face."

"No, listen to me," he said, unfazed. He'd shifted so that he could look her in the eye. "I love Kurt, but he's not in control and I knew that when I asked you to move in with us. I put you and Finn in harm's way, and I'm so sorry."

"You should have told us about the DID before asking, I'll give you that, but…" Carole argued. "What Kurt did to Finn wasn't anyone's fault, and it definitely wasn't yours."

Burt shook his head, seeming at a loss for the right words to say what he wanted to say. "No, Carole, you… It's happened before."

Carole paused. "Truman's… done that to someone else?" she asked, not entirely sure if she was understanding Burt right.

"I didn't know it was Truman at the time," Burt clarified. "It was six years ago." He drew a shuddering breath like he was trying to let go of something he'd held too tightly for too long. "He… he snuck up behind me in the kitchen, and…"

As Burt trailed off, Carole felt bile rise in her throat. "Oh, Burt…" she whispered. "Kurt doesn't know about this?"

Burt shook his head. "Dr. Goldberg knew, but you saw how upset Kurt was over what Truman did to Finn. How do you think he'd react if he knew he did the same thing to his dad?"

Carole set her jaw. "Burt, you can't keep secrets like that."

"I know, but Kurt… he can't know about that. It'd destroy him."

"I meant from me, Burt. At the very least, Finn could've had some warning that that might happen," she insisted, sitting up to look him hard in the eye. It was rare that Carole had to be harsh with Burt, but this was absolutely one of those times. "You… Look, I understand that you need to protect Kurt as much as you possibly can. Of course I understand that. But Kurt is my family too, and Finn and I are sharing the weight of this as much as you are. You cannot be trying to protect Kurt from his own family. That's not fair – to us or Kurt."

Burt nodded silently, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Is that the only thing keeping you up?" she asked, her voice softening.

"No, I… It's just that Kurt's never been away from home for this long." He shook his head, a hollow laugh escaping from his throat. "It's funny. The first time Kurt had a sleepover? He was seven, and Linda was fine but I was a mess. She always said Kurt was really independent and could take care of himself, but I—"

Burt froze, the fond, nostalgic smile melting off his face in half a second. His eyes widened in the dark.

Carole frowned. "What is it? What's wrong?"

His hand slowly rose to cover his mouth, and he looked like he was about to vomit.

"Burt, talk to me," Carole pressed.

"I… I know who it is."

Carole felt her heart lurch to a stop. "You—"

Burt's face contorted, as if he were collapsing from the inside out. "I know who it is," he repeated, stammering. "L-Linda had a friend from college, and we… we left Kurt with—"

He choked on his own words, gritting his teeth.

"Oh my God… I left him."