Finn couldn't really remember the last time he'd felt this tired, not just in his body but in his brain as well. He was emotionally exhausted and physically fatigued, and the only thing he wanted was to be able to take it one thing at a time, but it seemed the universe was determined not to let that happen. He didn't have the space left in his head to deal with all the different layers of problems weighing on his shoulders, so when Quinn approached him at his locker just before last period on Friday, he didn't wait for it to turn into an argument before he snapped at her.

"Finn, can I talk to you?" she asked, cradling a stack of textbooks in the crook of her elbow.

"Whatever lecture you want to give me today, can it wait until after school?" he responded almost flatly, shoving his books into his backpack. "I have physics now."

Truth be told, he didn't have the space in his head for physics class either, but he'd rather deal with numbers and equations he didn't understand than deal with Quinn. At least he knew the equations made sense to someone.

"I wanted to apologize," Quinn said quickly as he zipped his backpack shut.

Finn glanced at her for a second in confusion, unsure of how to react. He shut his locker, hefting his bag onto his shoulder. "Okay," he said. "For what?"

"For being such a bitch over the past couple of months. I didn't want to…" She trailed off for a second, searching for the right words. "…to make Kurt upset, or hurt your feelings."

Finn raised his eyebrows, not really sure if he believed her. "So… you don't think Kurt's faking?"

Quinn shook her head. "I never thought he was faking his problems, Finn," she clarified. "Whatever he went through, I'm sure it was horrible, and I… I feel so bad for making things worse." Finn noticed her fingers tightening slightly around the stack of books in her arms. "I still don't believe anyone can really have more than one personality—"

Finn's defensive gears immediately snapped back into place, and he opened his mouth to argue, but Quinn kept talking.

"—but what I think doesn't factor in," she said. She took a deep breath. "So, from here on out, you have my word – no more arguments or contradictions or obnoxiously stated opinions. You have my full, unconditional support."

Her lips pressed together like she was waiting for him to refuse, but after a few moments' consideration, Finn nodded. "Okay," he said, more because he didn't have the energy to fight with her anymore than anything else. "Apology accepted."

Quinn nodded as well, a hesitant but relieved smile spreading over her features. "Good," she said, then patted his arm and walked off down the hall as the bell rang for last period.

And Finn wasn't sure, but he thought she might've looked lighter on her feet.

Blaine's heart was thudding almost painfully in his chest as he caught up with Finn in the midst of the other Glee kids filing out of the choir room after rehearsal. "Finn! Wait up!"

Finn stopped and turned around, telling Rachel that he'd meet her at the parking lot.

Blaine waved to Rachel, then reached into his inner vest pocket and pulled out an envelope folded in half. He held onto it for a few extra seconds, still not sure if its contents were just right. He'd re-written the letter at least ten different times last night, only giving up and settling on his last draft when his father had banged on the door at one in the morning and told him to go to bed.

"Is that it?" Finn asked.

Blaine nodded, feeling a little light-headed as he gave the envelope to Finn. "He doesn't have to write me back. Just… let me know if he reads it."

Finn tucked it into the pocket of his letterman jacket. "Okay, I will."

"And… if he's there," Blaine said, shifting his weight to his other foot. "If he's there tomorrow when you see him, say hi to him for me."

"All right. Guess I'll see you Monday."

As the hands of the pendulum clock on the wall of Hiram's study rounded to seven in the evening, Hiram was immersed in legal research regarding child abuse and extreme emotional aggrievance. (He hadn't been named first chair for prosecution yet and so far the case wasn't even going to trial, but fortune did favor the prepared.) The folder with the photographs of Kurt as a child lay open on the desk beside him.

He jumped slightly when the phone rang next to his elbow. Dropping his glasses onto the desk, he picked up the receiver on the second ring. "Hiram Berry speaking."

"Mr. Berry, this is Chief Novacek from Toledo. I've got some bad news."

"Oh?"

"John Truman asked for a lawyer."

Hiram's gut twisted, his hand clenching around the phone. "Has he gotten one yet?"

"No, so far no one's been willing to take his case," Novacek answered. "Even if he weren't a freaking pedophile, there's so much evidence stacked against him that it's not much of an argument. I'm amazed he was too stubborn to just cut his losses and take the fall."

Hiram knew Novacek was right – it probably wouldn't be much of a fight, but all John Truman needed was a lawyer smart enough to find a single foothold, and it would turn nasty.

"I want first chair for prosecution," he said.

"I know, and I can't promise anything. But I'll try to pull a few strings."

It was the most Hiram could ask for.

"Okay, let me know when the defense council's been decided."

"Will do."

Hanging up, Hiram sat back in his chair, silently fuming. This was one of the few times he really hated the American judicial system. Most of the time the equal-rights-for-all-people thing was fantastic, especially where hiring a lawyer when you couldn't afford one was concerned. Unfortunately, the system automatically awarded a lawyer to anyone who qualified as Homo sapiens, not necessarily qualifying as human.

He glared at the sickening pictures lying on his desk top, as if looking at them with enough hatred would change them to a less humiliating subject.

Finally, he sighed and ran a hand over his face. He needed a glass of wine.

Standing up and shutting the study door behind him, Hiram headed for the kitchen. He passed Rachel sitting in the living room, surrounded by open books. "Hi, honey," he called over his shoulder as he pulled a bottle of Merlot from the wine cupboard. "Where's Sam?"

"He went bowling with Mike."

"Oh, why didn't you go with them?" he asked, filling a glass.

"I have this stupid physics test to study for on Monday," she answered. "Anyway, it seemed like more of a guys'-night-out thing."

"Well, let me know if you need any study help. I could always use a break."

He stood in the kitchen for a few minutes in silence, finishing his wine, then placed his glass in the sink and steeled himself to get back to work. On the way back to his study, he halted in his tracks.

The study door was open.

His eyes flew to the couch. Rachel was gone.

No, no, no, no…

Bursting into the study, he found Rachel standing at his desk, frozen stiff.

"Rachel!" he cried, rushing to the desk. He grabbed the photo from her hand and tried to shove it and the rest of them back into their folder, out of sight.

"I…" Rachel said shakily, barely breathing. "I was l-looking for a highlighter— Is th-that Kurt?"

"You shouldn't have been in here," Hiram said, finally pushing the folder into a drawer.

"Is that Kurt?!" Rachel repeated, her voice high and stretched and thin as sewing thread.

Hiram let out a breath, trying to think quickly of how to handle this. "Rachel, listen to me—"

"Oh my God…" Rachel sobbed, both hands clamping over her mouth. Her shoulders pulled in as her chest compressed, and Hiram pulled her into a tight hug. Holding her as she shook and cried and tried to breathe, Hiram waited for several long minutes until she started to quiet.

Her shoulders still trembling, he gently pushed her back, sinking onto his desk chair so that they were nearly eye-level. She hadn't stopped crying but the heaving sobs had finally petered out. Her face was wet and horribly blotchy. Hiram held her hands in his own and he spoke as calmly as he could manage, suddenly remembering just how young Rachel still was.

"Listen to me, Rachel," he said. "Listen. You cannot speak to anyone about this. Nobody. Do you understand?"

Rachel shook her head, her eyes glassy with tears and exhaustion and fear and confusion. "B-But Kurt— He's—"

"Do you understand?" Hiram asked again, more forcibly.

Rachel blinked, a few drops sliding along the tear tracks on her cheeks.

Hiram exhaled heavily. "Look, Rachel… What happened to Kurt was horrifying, and I know how hard it is for you to not let yourself offer some kind of support. Trust me. I know how much you love him."

Rachel's head dropped and another sob forced its way out of her mouth.

"But Rachel, think," Hiram pressed, leaning forward. "Think about it. How do you imagine Kurt would feel if he knew you had seen those?"

Rachel swallowed, attempting to steady her breathing (it wasn't working very well). "I d-don't understand; wh-why do you have them?" she asked, her words cut through by hiccoughs.

"Because they found the man who hurt him," Hiram explained. "The pictures were in his apartment."

A tiny spark of something akin to rage lit up in Rachel's eyes. "He was arrested?"

"Yes," Hiram nodded. "And I am doing everything I can to make sure he gets exactly what's coming to him. But in the meantime, you have to keep this to yourself." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I know you've never been one for secrets, but those pictures were never meant for you to see, so this is a secret you're going to have to keep. Even from Finn."

Rachel set her jaw, her chin jutting forward slightly, and for a moment Hiram thought she was going to argue. "Let me help, then," she said, still sniffing and hiccoughing but determined. "I-I won't say anything about it to anyone, but let me help you with the case. I can do r-research, or I could—"

Hiram was shaking his head. "No, Rachel—" he said. "Rachel, stop. It's okay."

"Why not?" Rachel countered. "Please let me—"

"No," Hiram cut her off firmly.

Her lips clamped shut, and Hiram let out a sigh, squeezing her hands. "Rachaela, Kurt's not the only one I need to protect."

Rachel's mouth tightened, a fresh stream of tears working their way out of her eyes. "Okay," she whispered.

He pulled into another embrace, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "There's nothing you can do right now, and there probably won't be for awhile," he said next to her ear. She felt tiny. "But for now, Kurt knows you're there for him, and so does Finn, and that's enough."

Finn had been expecting some kind of jail or fortress to loom over them as Burt pulled the car into the parking lot. He hadn't expected the warm-looking brick face of a two-story building with non-threateningly white paneling around the windows and front doors. He hadn't expected the rooms inside to be painted sunny yellow and sea foam green, almost colors one would typically see on the walls in a day care. He hadn't expected any of the doctors or nurses to be smiling.

As Burt checked in at the front receptionist's desk, Finn couldn't fight of a sudden realization that he really wanted his mom. But Carole had been picking up extra shifts every chance she could to make up for the time she'd spent at home with Kurt, and since Finn was visiting this weekend, Burt wasn't in desperate need of her company.

"Where's his ward?" Finn asked as he followed Burt past Reception and down the wide corridor.

"Upstairs," Burt answered, pressing the button for the elevator. "3F. Dr. McManus is meeting us there."

On the second floor, the hallways and visible rooms were still brightly painted, but to Finn they seemed smaller and more claustrophobic. Burt led him down another hallway to a nurses' station, where he had to check in a second time. They waited at the counter for about thirty seconds until a man with greyed-orange hair and an ID badge hanging from a strap around his neck approached them.

"Hi, Burt," he said, then turned to Finn. "And you must be Kurt's brother. Finn, right?" Finn shook his hand. "I'm Ted McManus. I've been working very closely with Kurt since he got here."

"Is Kurt back yet?" Burt cut in.

McManus sighed and Finn's fingertips went cold in the pockets of his jacket. "I'm afraid not. He's been switching fairly regularly between Zack and Truman, with a few appearances here and there from Craig and Robbie," the doctor explained. "Schism was also out for a couple hours yesterday, but things do seem to be steadying themselves."

Finn saw a shadow flit over Burt's face, though he couldn't tell why. "Has he been back in solitary?" Burt asked.

"Only once, on Wednesday, and it was more a matter of Kurt's personal safety than anything else. Zack was experiencing some kind of flashback, but he was either unable or unwilling to tell me any specifics."

Finn thought it was a little weird how casual McManus was acting about this, but he didn't want to talk anymore. "Can we see him now?" Finn requested, nervousness and anxiety chewing away at his intestines.

"Sure," said McManus. "Though, Burt, I'd actually like to talk to you in my office for a few minutes first. Is that all right?"

Burt nodded, and Finn's stomach flipped over.

Don't make me go in there alone.

"Finn, you can either wait here or have some time with Kurt on your own. It's up to you."

Finn swallowed. "Um… who's out now?"

"It's been Zack all day so far, so he's probably still awake. I last checked on him about a half hour ago."

Finn dug his fingernails into his palms. He could do this, so long as he didn't have to face Truman. The thought of it made him nauseous and a little dizzy.

"Okay," he said, probably sounding shakier than he'd intended. "Yeah, I'll go see him."

"All right, I'll have Charlie take you in," McManus nodded. "Can you wait here for just a sec?"

Burt clapped Finn on the shoulder, as if to let him know that he wouldn't be far away, then walked with Dr. McManus back down the hall and around a corner, disappearing from view.

Finn stood where he was, trying to ignore how the floor felt so much less than solid.

"So, what's wrong?" Burt asked as they entered McManus' office.

"Well, I'm not sure something is wrong," McManus replied, circling around his desk and opening a drawer.

Burt frowned. "What do you mean?"

McManus produced a red manila folder (making Burt panic for about three seconds from the memory of the last red manila folder he'd opened). "Zack's been drawing."

"Zack always draws."

McManus shook his head, handing the folder to Burt. "No, I mean he's been doing the same drawing over and over again."

Burt's heart skipped when he saw the thick stack of sheets inside the folder, each of them marked with a horribly familiar series of four Chinese symbols. "Oh my God…"

"Does that mean anything to you?"

"He scratched this on my bedroom wall with a letter opener," Burt said, not bothering to mention that he fell asleep every night staring at the scratches and exhausting his brain trying to think of what the hell it could possibly mean to Zack and to Kurt.

McManus' eyebrows shot up. "How long ago was this?"

"A few weeks," Burt answered, still leafing through. "Finn got one of his friends to translate. It says 'man is beast' but I have no clue what that's supposed to mean."

"Well, he's definitely trying to tell us something," McManus said, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "I've been trying to work with Craig but he says that Zack's being extremely resistant and uncooperative, and Zack's been refusing to speak to me directly."

"But why?" Burt slapped the folder closed and dropped it back onto the desk, exasperated beyond his mental capacity.

McManus huffed a breath, planting his hands on his hips. "I think he's afraid of what Truman will do to him if he talks about anything regarding Kurt's past experiences."

Burt ran a hand over his mouth, images flashing through his mind of Schism staring back at him through a beaten four-year-old boy's eyes. "God…"

McManus took off his glasses, letting them fall on top of the folder containing Zack's drawings. "Burt, that's actually not the only thing I wanted to talk to you about."

That wasn't enough?

"What is it?"

"I don't think Kurt's the only one who's been attacked."

Burt's lungs briefly stopped what they were doing. "What?"

McManus' voice was tight. "Truman's been bragging about killing Eleanor and Tyler as well," he said. "And none of the others have seen them."

For a long time, Burt didn't speak, at a loss for how to react. Personally, he would be happy to be rid of Tyler and Eleanor, but not if it meant losing Kurt too, and if Truman wasn't just targeting Kurt there was no way it could be a good thing.

"How worried do I need to be about this?"

There was a terrifying pause before McManus replied. "I don't want to frighten you, but I'd be pretty worried," he said, resting his hands in his pockets. "Alters attacking each other is never a great sign – especially when the predominant is missing –and from the looks of things it seems that Truman is trying to take control and become the new dominant. Which is why we need to get Kurt back as soon as we possibly can."

Burt took a deep breath, trying to make sure that the floor beneath his feet was still there. "What's our time frame for this?"

McManus sucked air through his teeth. "It's impossible to say for sure. There will always be a chance that Kurt or the others could return, whether or not they do so on their own. But… the longer Kurt is gone, the harder it will be to bring him back."

Finn shifted from foot to foot next to the nurses' station, his heart thudding against his ribcage like a boxing bag. He felt awkward, too tall for the low-ish ceiling, and like he shouldn't be there. Finally a guy in his thirties who reminded Finn a little of Sam walked up.

"Hi," he said. "I'm Charlie; I'm the head nurse for 3F."

"I'm Kurt's brother."

Charlie nodded. "Yeah, Dr. McManus told me. You want to see him now?" Finn nodded, gulping and hoping the movement wasn't obvious. "Okay, come on. I'll let you guys hang out in Kurt's room – I already made sure he was up. Zack's out now, but he's waiting for you."

Charlie pulled open the door to the ward, leading Finn into what looked something like a dormitory. There were a few couches and armchairs, a couple of tables, and aside from one youngish guy who was sitting in an armchair and muttering something about Beelzebub, none of the people here looked crazy.

Finn realized Charlie was still talking.

"—you'll have to keep the door closed for some privacy from the other residents, but I'll keep Kurt's roommate in the common room and if anything happens – if Truman wakes up or Zack gets upset; anything – you can just stick your head out the door and call for Lenny." Charlie gestured to another guy that had to be an orderly.

Finn only nodded.

"Here we are," Charlie said, stopping in front of the last out of three doors leading off from the common room. He opened the door and stepped aside to allow Finn through. "Go ahead."

The air felt thinner and harder to absorb as Finn steeled his nerves and walked past Charlie, already having forgotten the nurse was there. The door shut behind him.

Kurt was sitting on the floor with his back propped against the side of the bed that presumably belonged to him. Chewing on his thumbnail with one leg tucked under the other, Kurt glanced at Finn's feet for only a brief moment before turning his gaze back to the frosted-over window. His limbs and neck were tense.

Finn swallowed, stepping closer. Hesitantly, he sank onto the edge of the other bed, his hands still in his pockets. "Hey, Zack," he said.

Kurt didn't respond, tearing a hangnail off his index finger with his teeth. Finn winced.

"How are you?" he asked, feeling incredibly stupid for saying it. He was almost grateful when Kurt seemed to ignore it. Finn coughed lightly, studying the thread count of his jeans. "We all really miss you at home," he said softly.

Silence.

"Zack?"

Finn moved to sit on the floor in front of Kurt, as close as he dared to get. Kurt purposefully turned his head to the side, his eyes examining the blank wall.

"Zack, please say something."

The tendons in Kurt's neck were rigid, his hands tightly curled in his lap.

Why is he acting like this?

"Okay, you don't have to say anything," Finn said, just wanting Kurt to stop behaving like he thought Finn was about to hit him. "But can you at least look at me? Zack?"

No response, no reaction. Finn couldn't tell if Zack was refusing to talk because he was afraid or because he was angry.

"Zack?"

Nothing.

"Kurt?" Finn leaned a little closer, praying for the first time since Burt had his heart attack. "Kurt, are you there?"

He waited, but Kurt only pulled his knees up to his chest, his head turned away.

"Please come back."

For a long time, the only sound in the room was Finn's breathing, though it was hard for him to hear it himself over the sound of his pulse pounding in his eardrums.

"Kurt, I don't know if you can hear me…" he started, swallowing again and completely failing to keep his voice even. "Maybe you're really gone, but—" He stopped to cough and clear his throat. "Kurt, I'm so sorry I didn't say goodbye. I'm sorry for everything. I'm so…"

He trailed off, letting out a long breath. Kurt gave no indication that he'd heard anything Finn had said.

Desperate for some way to get through to the seemingly impenetrable wall Kurt was trapped behind, Finn forced himself to abandon all previous reservations. He pushed himself onto his knees, then reached forward and pulled Kurt into his arms, sending another prayer skyward.

"Please come back," he repeated.

And then, with an almost painful sense of relief, he felt Kurt lean very slightly into the embrace.

He pulled back, searching his stepbrother's face for any sign of Kurt. But even though he was finally, finally looking Finn in the eye, there was no visible trace.

"Kurt?" he said, hoping that Kurt would blink and straighten up and be Kurt again.

Kurt stared at him for several seconds, his expression nearly blank, then uncurled his arms from his abdomen and silently held up his hands, palms out. Finn's heart skipped.

Scrawled across each palm in slightly smudged black marker were the same four Chinese symbols Zack had carved into the wall at home. Finn couldn't read them, but he knew what they said.

"Zack, what is this?" Finn asked gently. "What does this mean?"

Kurt was silent, and Finn wasn't sure anymore if he wouldn't speak or if he couldn't.

"It's okay," Finn said. "You don't have to talk."

Finn moved to sit back against the bed next to Kurt. Kurt closed his hands, pulling them close to his torso again.

After a few moments, Kurt curled into Finn's side, just as tired and heavy as Finn felt. Finn released a breath of not-quite-relief and waited.

And waited.