Author note

Hello. This is my first fanfic and I'm a little anxious about it, but I'm kind of excited to share this story.

Although samcedes seem to no longer exist, I still love them and wanted to explore the pairing in this AU story.

I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer- I don't own glee or any of its characters.

I live in your heart as a distant memory. When the things that disturb you are blown away, buried beneath your dreams, deep in your mind, we find ourselves again.

Sam's muscles ached as his feet pounded the tarmac, matching the rhythm of his heart against his chest. The crisp autumnal air barely entered into his lungs, after running for what felt like hours. The crowds were building and his pace slowed as he started impatiently squeezing past people.

"Excuse me .. sorry…thank you" he found himself saying constantly as he edged his way through the mass of individuals.

His head was throbbing again and he could feel he was losing time. The nearer he reached his destination, the more the crowd seemed to swell.

"Oh God please don't let it be too late" he sighed

Steadily manoeuvring his way into the centre he could see the car she would enter into.

She was already there, dressed in a sparkling sapphire gown with a white shawl over her shoulders, signing autographs, waving to individuals in the crowd.

"Mercy! MERCY!" Sam called. It was futile –he was just another fan calling her in amidst the swell of well wishers.

He needed to get her attention. Sam looked at his watch- 7:36 he had three minutes.

.

"MERCEDES!" He shouted again and for a minute, as she was smiling gracefully signing another notebook, it looked like her back straightened and her head turned slightly in his direction before returning the notebook to the enamoured young man wearing a "Forever Mercy" t-shirt.

Sam looked towards the gathering of screaming fans and well wishers, knowing that somewhere hiding amongst them was the person who was about to seal her fate and change history.

7:37 He had two minutes left. Sam didn't care. He broke from the crowds and onto the carpet, aware he would have only seconds before he would be bundled away by her body guards.

There were shouts as he pushed passed her entourage shoving burly men out of the way with unexpected strength and energy he found himself with.

Sam could see Mercedes was startled by the commotion, her eyes looking up in his direction she seemed to pause in recognition at him. Sam smiled as with a final push he was infront of her, he held her hands.

"You- Have- have to get inside...now" he pleaded

She looked at him confused

"I'm sorry?" she was startled by him but her eyes flickered with some distant recognition.

"I know I must seem like a psycho stalker fan... but you have to listen to me… before it is too late"

"Too late?"

"Please you're not safe here… just get inside your car" he began to push Mercedes towards her limousine.

In response to this forceful action, body guards grabbed him holding him back from their charge. In the commotion two shots pulsed through the crowds, Mercedes tumbled to the ground. Screams and shouts underscored the activity and filled the air.

Sam Evans screamed from the vice grip of the two body guards that held him back from her, the rest rushing to Mercedes Jones, the fallen star.

"Noooo! Mercedes! Nooo!" Unable to save her, unable to cradle her, the tears in his eyes blurring his vision.

Sam woke up with his hands clutching tightly to his sheets. He inhaled deeply, loosening his grip, before exhaling again forcefully.

He could never save her no matter how fast he ran or how hard he tried to explain. Sometimes the details were different, the colour of her dress, the style of her hair, how far along the red carpet she had walked, or whether she was surrounded by two body guards or more. But it always, always ended with her collapsing onto the red carpet and him helpless to stop it, feeling like he himself had died.

Yet the truth was: he didn't know her. He had never met or seen her before in his life. Yet this woman it would seem that his mind had created, persistently haunted his dreams.

He threw over his covers and checked the time, it was 4am. Perhaps he could return to sleep, it was a Saturday after all, but he knew he'd probably spend the next few hours tossing and turning anyway.

So he got out of bed, and shuffled to his kitchen, as he pulled his head over his red sweater.