Kurt Hummel had a lot of plans for his summer…his Pip-Pip-Hooray musical, his job dressing mannequins at a local boutique, and coffee dates with Blaine. (Actually, any dates with Blaine.) However, none of these plans involved sitting in the frigid Lima County Hospital, shivering in a short-sleeved blouse, and trying to shake the small lump slowly rising in his throat. "Not here, not now…" Kurt told himself. He was not going to cry in this distastefully decorated waiting room, surrounded by strangers with problems much bigger than his.

There was a long history between Kurt and this hospital, not much of it happy. There was his dad's heart attack and coma the past fall, an event that still made him shudder, and his mother's slow death from cancer when Kurt had been nine. (That event still made him cry.) Now, he was waiting to visit Quinn Fabray, of all people. The two had never been close, and had only grown apart since the painful Finn and Quinn breakup. However, as Mercedes had told him over the phone "Quinn needs everyone she has right now". As Kurt sat in the psych-ward waiting room, hoping to visit a clinically depressed Quinn, who had tried to kill herself with sleeping pills, he knew that Mercedes was right.

The nurse who had searched Kurt upon his arrival showed him down a long hall. There were no doors, and Kurt caught glimpses of plain white rooms. Everything was cloth or plastic. People sat in chairs, or slumped on beds. Some were awake, some were asleep. Some people were reading, writing, or drawing. Others merely gazed into space. Kurt was struck by how harsh everything seemed. The nurse seemed to notice his expression, as she smiled gently at him, and started to explain his surroundings.

"This is the section for heavily depressed individuals. Those who could be a danger to themselves. I know it seems un-welcoming, but these precautions are necessary for safety."

Kurt nodded vaguely, still mulling over the first part of the nurse's explanation. "Quinn…is still suicidal?"

The nurse paused, tilting her head to think. "Well, yes and no. Your friend is keeping everything inside. She's not responsive to counselors, and won't answer our questions. She isn't giving much indication of anything, so we're not sure how to medicate." The woman let out a sigh, and shrugged "In this case we have to assume the worst…and silence-in this case- is hardly ever a good sign."

This made sense to Kurt, but it also petrified him. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Talk to her like nothing was wrong. Smile. If she won't talk, just sit. She needs her friends now." The nurse tapped a doorframe "Here you go…I'll be back soon. You've got half an hour, okay?"

"Okay…" Kurt's voice trailed off as he peeked into the room. Plain, empty. Cold. A beat up mattress on a very safe looking bed frame took up most of the room. A plastic chair was located by a small stack of possessions…a bible, and a few photos, from what Kurt could tell. Everything was nailed to the floor. The room was windowless, and track lighting cast a bright, industrial beam on the figure in the chair. A girl who couldn't be Quinn. Her feathery hair was matted, and her face was slightly ashen. She appeared washed out in the harsh light, and she wore the most unflattering ensemble since Rachel's plaid-and-argyle-shapeless-sweater-sets phase. Quinn's delicate figure was hidden under ugly green sweatpants, complete with a few suspicious marks from a prior wearer, and a Strawberry Shortcake hospital gown.

The girl looked up. She fixed her deep eyes on Kurt. He avoided her gaze, and walked in hesitantly. "Quinn. Hi." The words came out too loud and too fast. Kurt blushed a little, and picked at his cuticles, wondering what to do next.

"Hi."

Quinn's voice was shaky, and strangely stiff, like it hadn't been used in days. (And, as Kurt remembered, it probably hadn't.)

This was a good sign, Kurt decided. He walked closer to Quinn, and smiled at her. Although Kurt was seldom at a loss for words, he found himself struggling to continue the conversation. "How are you?" didn't seem like a good choice. He settled on "What's up?"

Quinn shrugged, and was silent. Just as Kurt was about to give up on a response, he got one. "It sucks here, Kurt. It really, really sucks." Tears hovered on her eyelashes, and Kurt suddenly felt such empathy for the girl…she looked so lost and young, and not just because of that ugly hospital gown. He took her hand in his, and squeezed it.

"I know. I know."

"I never get any privacy. I can't even use the bathroom in peace! And no one here cares about me, only my "psychological issues", and I know I look like crap, but there are no mirrors…and…" Quinn's outburst dissolved into sobs, leaving an overwhelmed Kurt awkwardly stroking her matted hair. Kurt was not used to being on the receiving end of breakdowns, and he wasn't quite sure how to deal. When the hair-stroking seemed to help, he hummed a bit as well- odd snippets of songs, mostly lullabies he remembered from long ago.

Time passed. Nurses walked by. Kurt continued to hold Quinn, till her tears ceased. As he gently pulled away, she wiped her eyes. Kurt broke the silence.

"I brought you something" He opened his satchel, and pulled out a makeup case. "We're going to make you you again."

When Kurt left (much past his time slot) Quinn looked more like her old self. She had even smiled when she'd seen her improved reflection in Kurt's compact mirror. Her eyes were still dull, but there was a tiny spark of hope in them now. Most encouraging to Kurt was the promise Quinn had made to him as he departed.

"I'll talk to them, Kurt. I will."

As Kurt walked into the sunshine, remembering Quinn's words, he couldn't help but sing a little. The words that passed his lips didn't matter to him at the moment. All that mattered was the joy behind them.