Weekend breakfasts at Will and Emma's apartment were always fairly extravagant, thanks to Emma's penchant for ornate edible fruit bowls and almost ridiculously complicated baked cucumber boats, but it was a routine they both enjoyed. Mostly Emma, though.

Still, there was usually more conversation between the two of them on Saturday mornings. Today, it was quieter at the table than it had been in a long time.

"You seem preoccupied," Emma remarked, swallowing her last bite of cantaloupe.

Will blinked, his attention brought back down to earth. "Oh, sorry," he shook his head. "I'm just worried about the kids. Nationals is coming up and they just… seem out of sync."

Emma chewed thoughtfully on a grape. "Why, because of Kurt?"

"I don't know. Maybe." He shrugged. "Probably," he admitted. "Right now, it's like they don't care about the competition. Besides Rachel, anyway."

"What songs are you doing?"

Will glanced up at the ceiling for a moment in thought. "Uh, You'll Be In My Heart, Hopelessly Devoted To You, and—"

Emma's eyes widened, and she quickly cut him off. "Wait, wait a minute… is this set list dedicated to Kurt again?"

Will frowned in confusion. "Yeah. Why?"

"Whose decision was that?"

"Mine…" he said slowly. "The kids thought it was great last time, and it won us Regionals." Another shrug. "It gave them a real connection with the songs."

Emma swallowed. She loved Will, to be sure, but he could be the most naïve person in the world so easily. "And did you ever think that they might not want to sing songs about Kurt?" she inquired.

Will blinked.

"I think," she continued gently, "that if they want to dedicate the performance to Kurt, it should be their decision. Let them pick the songs. You can't dictate what they're feeling, Will. Or how they deal with it."

Will sighed. "You're right," he said. "As always."

"Sorry."

"No, no, it's good. Thanks, Em." He smiled tightly, popping a slice of apple into his mouth and chewing it for longer than was probably necessary.

"What's wrong?" Emma prodded, already feeling guilty for having spoken up.

"Nothing, Emma, I just… I feel really…" He trailed off, his mouth pressed into a thin line and his eyes studying the tablecloth. "Useless," he finished.

"Yeah, me too," Emma confessed. She coughed lightly, adjusting her napkin in her lap. "I've actually been thinking a lot about that lately."

"Come to any brilliant conclusions?"

"Maybe," Emma chuckled. "But I think that maybe the reason we feel so incompetent is because we've been trying to do something that can't really be done."

Will frowned, genuinely confused. "Are you saying they don't need support?"

"No, gosh, not at all," she recovered quickly. "No, they definitely need that, but… they don't need it from a teacher. I mean, part of the reason I never spoke to Kurt directly about his problems was that I wasn't someone who had any say in what he did."

Will was still frowning, but now it looked more like indignation than anything else. "You were his guidance counselor."

"Right. Not his doctor," Emma replied. "Not his parent. And I know it seems like it a lot of the time, but there's no such thing as friendship between teachers and students."

At the Hudson-Hummel house, breakfast didn't start until nearly ten, since both Kurt and Finn were late waking up and Burt and Carole didn't feel much like ingesting anything other than coffee. Burt had been checking on Kurt every half hour or so, and Carole was busy making eggs and bacon when Finn finally stumbled downstairs, half-asleep and hungry.

"Morning," Carole greeted him as he heaved himself onto a stool at the counter island, yawning. Burt was sipping his coffee at the kitchen table. "How'd you sleep?"

"Lousy," Finn answered. "Kurt's up too, by the way. He's hogging the shower."

"Oh, good, we were starting to worry about him," Carole said, scooping still-steaming pancakes onto a plate and sliding it in front of Finn. "I have to take the afternoon shift today. I was thinking maybe you and Kurt could go out with some friends today," she suggested. "You know, get out of the house."

Finn frowned slightly, swallowing. "Uh… are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Dr. McManus says it'd be best if Kurt's not stuck around here for the whole weekend," Carole answered, shutting the stove off. "He's trapped in the ward all week; it's not going to do him any good if he feels the same way at home."

"I meant for the others," Finn muttered. "What if he switches?"

"He's on his meds now, Finn. He'll be okay."

Burt stood up from the table to put his coffee cup into the sink, rubbing a hand over his bald head. "Carole's right, Finn. Kurt needs some fresh air."

Finn opened his mouth (to argue or agree, Carole wasn't entirely sure), but Kurt walked into the kitchen then, his hair still wet from the shower, and Finn swallowed whatever he'd been about to say. Burt swallowed too, but Carole didn't know what he was holding back.

She smiled at her stepson. "Morning, honey. Want some eggs?"

Kurt's answer was delayed by a yawn, his eyes scrunching shut as he ran a hand through his damp hair. "I think I'll just have some cereal," he said, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

Carole immediately moved toward the cereal cupboard, but Kurt stopped her and told her he could make it himself. "Okay," Carole backed off, retrieving her cup of coffee and leaning back against the counter instead.

Burt moved to get out of Kurt's way, reaching over to squeeze Kurt's shoulder as he passed. But Kurt turned and surprised Burt by wrapping his arms around Burt's torso.

More than anything else, Burt looked shocked, and Carole suddenly felt as if she were intruding on a very private moment between father and son. A quick glance at Finn told her that her own son felt the same way, and as Burt returned the embrace, both Hudsons looked away to allow the Hummels some semblance of privacy.

Artie had been surprised when Finn called him Saturday morning to see if he wanted to hang out at the Lima Bean for a bit with him and Kurt, but he hadn't hesitated to say yes. (Well, okay, he hadn't hesitated for long.) He ended up arriving before Kurt and Finn did, occupying a few couches and squashy armchairs by the window of the coffee shop with Puck, Rachel, and Santana. All of them sat sucking down large coffees and chatting until Rachel sat bolt upright, looking out the window.

"There he is!" she exclaimed, and Artie turned with Puck and Santana to follow Rachel's gaze.

Kurt was just climbing down out of Finn's truck on the other side of the parking lot, jogging slightly to catch up with Finn's long strides. Artie couldn't help but notice that there was no improvement in Kurt's wardrobe since the last time they'd seen him. Not that Artie understood Kurt's wardrobe choices, but he wasn't ignorant enough to think that a grey hoodie and black jeans should be normal for Kurt.

"Jesus, Berry, will you stop bouncing?" Santana snapped, wrinkling her nose at Rachel.

"He looks… skinny," said Puck.

"He's always been skinny," Santana replied.

Puck didn't say anything in response to that, only frowning until Kurt and Finn actually entered the café.

Rachel jumped up and ran straight to Kurt, almost knocking him over as she threw her arms around his shoulders (not an easy task for Rachel, who was easily three feet shorter than Kurt – or maybe Artie's perception was skewed). Artie rolled toward them, followed by the other two as Rachel let go, allowing Kurt to breathe.

"How are you?" she asked.

Kurt gave her a half-smile. "I'm fine."

Puck reached over for a high five, which Kurt tentatively returned. "It's good to see you, dude."

Artie also exchanged a high five, trying not to let it show that he thought Puck was right – Kurt had always been skinny, but now there seemed to be less of him there.

Santana stayed out of Kurt's personal space, instead giving a surprisingly genuine and affectionate smile and saying, "I missed you, Legolas."

Kurt chuckled, and Artie was relieved to hear that it didn't sound forced.

Finn clapped Kurt on the shoulder. "Come on, let's go order."

"Kurt, can I talk to you for a second?" Artie cut in before Kurt could follow Finn to the counter. The others were moving back to the couches.

Kurt frowned, but stayed where he was. "Finn, could you get me just a decaf Earl Grey?" he asked. Finn nodded, glancing worriedly at Artie for a second before joining the line. "Thanks."

Artie's eyebrows rose slightly. "Decaf?" he echoed. "I thought you were a total caffeine junkie."

Kurt shrugged, letting his hands rest in his hoodie pockets. "It messes with my medication," he said. "What's up?"

Artie reached around to pull his backpack off the handles of his wheelchair, setting it in his lap to unzip it. He pulled out a set of three miniature cassette tapes and held them out to Kurt. "I wanted to give these to you. It's all the footage from the documentary."

Kurt's brows knitted in confusion, the shadows under his eyes tightening slightly. "Don't you need them?"

"No, I'm…" Artie shook his head. "I'll find something else to film."

There were only two reasons why Artie was stopping his film project – one, that it really was Kurt's business what happened in his own head, and two, Artie was afraid of seeing any more of Kurt's head than he already had.

"Okay," Kurt said, sliding the tapes into his hoodie pocket. "Thanks."

Artie hoped that Kurt would understand the first reason without realizing the second.

To Finn's relief, the conversation stayed away from the topics of Kurt's illness and hospitalization. Instead, they chatted about more superficial things – exchanging gossip, making fun of Mr. Schue's lesson plans, the usual. For the time being, Finn felt a little lighter, content to sit where he was and slowly work his way through an extra-large mocha. It was a welcome change to see Kurt a little bit more animated and invested in the goings-on around him, rather than looking like a puppet forgotten on a dusty shelf.

"So Mr. Schue is being a complete tyrant with the song choices for Nationals and not letting me sing My Heart Will Go On—"

Rachel was cut off by a laugh from Kurt. "Rachel, that song is cheesier than the majority of songs Mr. Schue chooses, and that's saying something."

Rachel pouted. "I thought you loved Titanic!"

"I do," Kurt amended. "But that song is not going to win the judges' favor."

"Well, it doesn't matter anyways," Rachel sniffed, smoothing her skirt and reaching again for her cinnamon latte. "Mr. Schue gave the leads to Blaine and Santana, so I'm not singing any solos at all."

Santana's eyes rolled. "Berry, you're making my café con leche taste like sour grape," she drawled. Artie snorted.

"Besides, we all know you're going to that fancy school in New York," Puck added with a shrug.

Kurt's eyes widened at Rachel. "You got in?"

Rachel's face abruptly fell, and Finn couldn't tell if it was from fear or shame. Or both. "N-no, not yet," she stammered into her coffee cup. "I don't find out for another month or so."

"But your audition went well?" Kurt pressed.

"Yeah," Rachel said, her voice a little too high. "Yeah, it did."

"What'd you sing?"

Rachel's mouth pressed together for a moment, her eyes finally making contact with Kurt's. "I did Not The Boy Next Door." She gave a nervous shrug, sticking her nose back into her cup. "Ms. Tibideaux seemed to like it," she finished quietly.

To Rachel's apparent surprise, Kurt smiled. "Congratulations!"

"…Thanks," Rachel murmured.

Kurt sighed, leaning his cheek against his fist. "Okay, why are you acting like someone killed your puppy?"

Rachel swallowed, shrugging again. "I just… wanted to go to New York with you, Kurt," she admitted. "That was always the plan, and I feel bad you didn't get to audition."

The others all shifted uncomfortably in their seats, and Finn stayed quiet, unsure of how Kurt would respond. He'd known about this plan since the moment had entered Rachel's head (she wouldn't stop talking about it, even for a few weeks after Kurt had been expelled from school) and he knew that Kurt had wanted it too. But Kurt's calm reply caught all of them slightly off-guard.

"Rachel, NYADA would never have admitted someone like me," he said.

Finn knew that was true – he always had – and he suspected Kurt always had too, but this was the first time Kurt was acknowledging it. Even without all the chaos that had taken place since January, Kurt wouldn't have been able to handle the stress of a performance school.

"Then why'd you apply?" asked Puck, frowning in confusion.

The corners of Kurt's mouth twitched upward. "Because Rachel didn't want to do it alone."

Rachel froze for a second. Kurt calmly took a sip from his tea, and then Rachel pulled herself to her feet and promptly moved to sit beside him.

The group slowly migrated across the parking lot to their cars almost an hour later, exchanging amiable goodbyes and making Kurt promise to hang out the next time he was home. Rachel was giving Kurt yet another hug (swearing it was the last one) when a voice yelled in their direction from the other side of the lot, making the group look up. Rick 'the Stick' Nelson had been heading towards the coffee shop, but now he'd changed directions and was walking toward them.

Dammit, Finn thought. Not now.

"Hey, Puckerman!" Rick called, and Finn didn't miss how Puck tensed. "Just getting out of a tea party with your little Glee friends?"

Puck rolled his eyes, stepping toward his truck as Rick approached.

Using a very poor imitation of a British accent, Rick lifted his pinky and mimed drinking from a small teacup. "How many sugars do you take, Mr. Noah? Would you like a crumpet?"

"I'm not in the mood to break your jaw, Stickhead, but if you really want, I can take you to the pavement," Puck replied evenly.

Rick laughed, crossing his arms. "I'd like to see you try, Nancy."

Santana interrupted then, stepping up to Puck's side. "Okay, you really do not want to piss me off, Nelson," she threatened. "Either you walk away with your tail between your legs, or I crack one of your nuts and have Artie film it so we can show all your figure-skating buddies just how high your voice can go."

Rick laughed again. "I think I can handle a dyke just fine."

Santana's lip curled, her eyes narrowing, and Finn braced for her fist to collide with Rick's nose.

"How dare you—" Rachel cried.

Santana was suddenly pushed back as Kurt stepped forward, his shoulders slightly hunched as he glared at Rick (Rachel gasped).

Rick grinned, immediately recognizing Kurt. "Hey, it's Hudson's crazy brother! Whatchya doing outside the asylum?" he asked. "Did you outgrow your straitjacket? Or did you chew through the walls of your padded cell?"

Finn's stomach curled as he saw Kurt's fists clench by his sides. Puck, Santana, Artie, and Rachel all seemed to be at a loss for what to do, and to be honest, Finn wasn't coming up with any ideas.

"Listen up, Mullet," Kurt snarled, his voice abruptly deepened and rough. Finn's eyes widened, his heart lurching to a stop. Rachel's hand was over her mouth, and Puck and Santana had both flinched back. "There are a lot of people rattling around in this head and right now, they all want to beat your faggot ass."

Rick's smug grin had begun to fade, slowly being replaced with unease.

Finn was stuck. His muscles were rigid as his stomach flipped over and over. Something was very, very wrong – this wasn'tnormal, even for Kurt.

"Eleanor likes knives and knows exactly where your arteries are," Kurt continued, edging toward Rick. "Truman knows his way around a crowbar. Me, I just like a good old-fashioned fist fight, but believe me when I say you wouldn't walk out of that in one piece."

Rick gave a nervous chuckle. "The hell are you supposed to be now, Hummel? A biker dude? Freaking schizo," he spat, drawing himself up to his full height.

Every one of Finn's muscles tightened.

"Wrong diagnosis, dipshit," Kurt growled. "My name is Craig, and I'm going to snap you in two."

Kurt lunged, making Rick leap backwards, the bravado dropped. "Jesus!" he cried. "Put your brother on a leash, Hudson!" He strode quickly back toward the coffee shop.

Finn's heart was pounding in his ears as Kurt turned back around. All five of them were staring at Kurt in shock.

Kurt let out a huff, straightening up again. "Well, I doubt he'll be bothering any of you again for awhile," he said. His voice had returned to its regular pitch, and Finn suddenly felt like vomiting.

No one moved.

"You can all close your mouths now," said Kurt.

Puck was the first to speak. "What the hell was that?!" he demanded.

Kurt frowned. "What? I just got rid of the biggest Neanderthal at McKinley, who just happened to be attacking you. No big deal," he snapped.

"I don't need you to fight my battles for me," Puck argued. "And not like that!"

Kurt crossed his arms, his jaw tensing. "You know, Puck, a little bit of gratitude wouldn't go amiss here."

"You want us to be grateful for you scaring the crap out of us and acting like a douchebag?" Santana cut in, and Finn was having a difficult time not raising his voice to agree with her.

"I did it for you," Kurt insisted, but not even Artie and Rachel opened their mouths to support his case.

Santana stepped forward, and slapped Kurt soundly across the face.

Finn flinched (Rachel gasped again) as Kurt's head whipped to the side with the force of the blow. A hand to his face, Kurt glared at Santana, saying nothing.

"If you give a single crap about any of us," Santana spat, "you will never do that again."

She turned on her toes and stormed back to her car, shoving her hands into her pockets and not looking back. Slowly and silently, Puck and Rachel walked to their cars, Artie rolling after Rachel and leaving Finn and Kurt alone in the parking lot.

Kurt rubbed his cheek, letting out a heavy exhale and glancing toward the coffee shop windows, where several of the Lima Bean patrons had turned to watch.

"Kurt, why would you do that?" Finn asked, unable to keep his voice entirely steady. "You really want to call that much attention—"

"People are always staring," Kurt retorted harshly before Finn could finish. He swallowed, throwing his hands up. "Might as well give them something to look at!"

Finn blinked.

Kurt brushed by him, walking toward the truck. "Let's just go home."