Mercedes always hated the cold, antiseptic atmosphere of hospitals. In the past year and a half, she'd seen the inside of the soulless, stark buildings far too many times: during the tenuous days while Burt Hummel lay in a coma, she'd been there. After Dave Karofsky's failed suicide attempt, she'd been there. But neither of those times had felt so real, so cruel, as finding the slender blonde girl she'd once called her "soul sister" lying lifeless beneath the crisp, blue sheets of a sterile hospital bed. It was a private room and everything was as quiet as an empty church except for the gentle, measured breaths of oxygen being pumped into Quinn's body, causing the gradual slope of her chest to rise and fall, and the rhythmic beeping of her heart monitor like strange music signaling the fact that, even after all she'd been through in the past week, Quinn was still alive.

Quinn was indeed alive, but just barely. The cuts on the left side of her face had left deep scars from her temple to her chin when the truck had T-boned her tiny red VW beetle, sending thousands of tiny shards of glass careening toward her beautiful face. A large patch of her chin-length blonde hair had been shaved away to give the surgeon access to the deep laceration that wound upwards jaggedly through her scalp. And what the collision had done to her body-Mercedes shuddered at thought of the impact and the damage it had caused to Quinn's spinal cord. How the delicate girl had even survived the accident was nothing short of a miracle. Mercedes had received word about the horrific crash while she and the rest of the glee club had been waiting for Quinn's arrival at Rachel and Finn's last-minute wedding ceremony. When the news had come, the wedding had been postponed immediately, and the group piled into their cars, shaken and worried, and headed to the hospital to await news of Quinn's fate.

But that was a week ago. Then, there'd been little hope that Quinn would make it through the night, but by some sheer supernatural force, she had survived. Although she'd yet to regain consciousness, Mercedes believed-always-that where there's life, there's hope.

Although there was little reason to suspect that her footsteps would rouse the comatose patient, Mercedes stepped quietly into the room, and planted herself in the chair nearest to her friend's bed. Settling into the uncomfortable seat, she allowed her gaze to linger on Quinn a little longer. The falling afternoon sunlight streaming through the large window cast a pinkish glow, illuminating the sparse hospital room and bathing Quinn's face in rose-colored light. Seeing her friend lying there like an empty shell made Mercedes' catch in her throat. She swallowed hard, as her eyes studied Quinn's face for any signs of life. The girl's expression was relaxed and peaceful and, aside from the bandages and cuts and the oxygen tube that protruded from her mouth, she might well have been simply sleeping. But no matter what was going on the outside, Quinn was a fighting like hell on the inside to keep from slipping away. Of that much, Mercedes was sure. Quinn had gone through so much in the past three years-no way her life was going to end like this. Mercedes had decided in her heart over a week ago, that she wouldn't desert her friend now, not when Quinn needed her so much. No. She would sit and wait and pray as she always did when she was faced with some a problem that was too big for her to solve on her own.

Until Sam.

Mercedes twisted the large resin ring on her index finger as she always did when she was pensive and shook the wayward thoughts of the boy from her head. It had been a couple of weeks since she and Sam had talked and she'd ended the flirtation that made her question who she was at the core of her being but Mercedes still couldn't shake the deep connection she had with him. When she'd broken his heart, Mercedes had broken her own heart as well, and that organ, which had once been full of life and love, hung like a dead weight in her chest. With Quinn's near-death experience adding to her heartbreak, Mercedes felt like she was barely hanging on by a thread. She held fast to all she had left-her faith- and she dug in her resolve, if for no other reason than to be strong for everyone else. But Mercedes had grown tired of always putting on the brave face and of constantly being the one to hold on when others would have readily let go. When would it be her turn to have someone else be strong for her?

She withdrew a bright yellow sprial notebook from her backpack and began working on an honors history homework assignment as she softly hummed all of the soothing hymns she'd learned at church throughout her childhood. They'd always given her some measure of comfort and she hoped that while Quinn wasn't even conscious, their messages of hope and deliverance would reach her friend at some subconscious level. Reaching out to stroke her friend's lifeless hand a few times, Mercedes remained in the room for nearly an hour, alternately writing and stroking and singing and praying, until a tall, thin nurse with an angular face stuck her head into the room to let Mercedes know that visiting hours would be over soon. Mercedes smiled gently in acknowledgment and turned to gather her things. Placing her warm palm upon Quinn's cold hand, she rubbed it one last time, careful to avoid the tubes that were delivering medicine into her friend's body. Mercedes blinked back the two heavy tears that began forming in her eyes, unceremoniously snatching her hand from Quinn's to wipe them away.

Mercedes kept hope alive by clinging to the belief that tomorrow was a new day and that maybe it was this particular tomorrow that would bring her friend back from the gaping maw of an early grave. Renewing her promise to spend a bit of every day at the hospital, Mercedes mentally made a note of her schedule. Nationals was little more than a month away and Mr. Schue had scheduled extra after-school rehearsals to make sure the New Directions stayed on their A game. They'd need every single minute of practice if they were to have any shot at beating Vocal Adrenaline. Her history with the New Directions would be over in a few months and this year was her last shot at being a part of something special. However, Mercedes was honest enough to admit to herself that looking at Quinn lying lifeless in a hospital bed made everything that wasn't life and death seem pointless.

As she exited the room, she cast one more glance over her shoulder at Quinn while her vision blurred with tears.


On the following afternoon, the usually jovial atmosphere of the choir room was more subdued than usual. The whole glee club felt it: a heavy sadness that permeated the air and stifled their joy like a thick, dark cloak. In the familiar surroundings of their favorite space at McKinley High School, the kids were all hopeful that being together with their friends would help them feel a little more comforted. Instead, Quinn's absence-and particularly the reason behind her absence- simply left a gaping hole that Mike and Tina sat hand in hand at the back of the room, Blaine, Kurt, and Puck seemed to stare off silently into space. In the front row, Rachel leaned into Finn, their fingers intertwined, while Artie, Rory, and Sugar seemed to have little to say to each other.

And then there was Sam.

Dressed in the same olive green button down shirt he'd worn when he'd sung that he wanted to be her hero, he sat at the far end of the front row next to Sugar with his head in his hands, blond hair draped over his fingers. Mercedes' heart swelled with pity and she ached to go to him, but she'd given up any right to be his comforter. He'd been infatuated with Quinn once, and although their relationship hadn't lasted long and ended badly, he'd managed to eke out a quiet, mutual friendship with the pretty blonde cheerleader in spite of the fact that she'd cheated on him. That forgiving nature was one of the reasons why Mercedes loved him so much. The question that remained, however, was would he forgive her for breaking his heart?

As though he could sense her eyes on him, Sam turned around and caught Mercedes' stare. He looked like a creature in torment, his familiar green eyes bloodshot and rimmed with red while pale pink blotches splashed across his usually handsome face. Mercedes tried to read what was behind his eyes but in the mere moments it had taken him to find her face among the group, he'd erected a wall so thick and so high that it seemed insurmountable. She gripped her chair, stuck somewhere halfway between crossing the room in a single bound and wrapping him in her arms so they could share their grief, or simply losing her own damn mind.

Oh, Sam. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

She held his gaze for a moment longer until he turned away to bury his head in his hands again. Mercedes willed Sugar to stroke Sam's shoulders, offering him what little comfort she herself could not, but she knew no one else could comfort him the way she could. The way she had when his whole world had gone spectacularly to shit. Mercedes' heart broke under the realization that she had cut herself off from him, that she no longer had any right to be the person Sam could turn to in times of trouble.

Mercedes' thoughts were interrupted when Mr. Schue strode into the room with a little less than the normal pep in his step. Placing his brown leather attache on the shiny black piano at the center of the room, he walked toward the group, his face haggard with dark circles beneath his usually bright eyes and more than a day's growth of stubble. His voice sounded hoarse when he finally spoke.

"Hey, guys-listen up," he began. "I know it's been a rough couple of weeks for all of us with everything that's happened with Dave and with Quinn. And here's the truth: I don't know if it's going to get better any time soon. I talked to Quinn's parents a couple of nights ago and while she's stable, no one really knows what's going to happen moving forward. I can't promise you that everything will be okay but I know as long as we've all got each other to lean on, we can be strong for each other...and for her. If you're feeling overwhelmed, you can always talk to me or to Miss Pillsbury or any of the adults in your life to help you cope with your emotions. That said, Nationals is right around the corner and as much as I'd like for us to take some time to adjust to what's happened with Quinn, we really have to push through to get ready for the competition. She wouldn't want us to quit now."

For once, Mr. Schue was right. She couldn't give up. Not now. Not on Quinn. Not on Nationals. And never-never-on Sam.

She found him at his locker after the brief practice session, unsure and, quite frankly, scared about whether she should approach him or not. It was ridiculous, really. This was the same guy with whom she had grown so close over the summer and shared intimate secrets about their hopes for an unknown future. Mercedes remembered those almost-endless summer nights they'd spent at the lake talking and laughing and discovering they had much more in common than even they themselves could have imagined. But so much had happened between then and now, that deep in her heart, Mercedes knew that neither of them was the same person they were nine months ago. Sam's usual happy-go-lucky smile had been replaced by perpetually pursed lips. Mercedes' memories of kissing that beautiful mouth for the first time came flooding back, unbidden, and the cord connecting their hearts-the one she'd almost snapped several weeks ago-drew her towards him. Just because they weren't together would never mean she'd want to stop being there for him.

Mercedes swallowed hard before speaking. "Hi, Sam."

She couldn't see his face behind the locker door, but she knew he'd heard her alright. He stood still for a moment before closing the short metal door that separated them. He might as well have kept it open because in its place, he'd erected that unbreachable wall again. "Hey, 'Cedes." He hadn't even looked at her, the muscle in his jaw clenching as he spoke, and Mercedes had known him long enough to know that move. It meant either that he had something on his mind that he wanted to say, or that he was annoyed about something. She wondered which one it was.

"How are you doing?" Her fingers, now wrapped around the textbooks she was taking home that afternoon, itched to reach out and stroke his shoulder as a gesture of comfort, but she knew somehow that if she'd even tried, he'd jerk away from her as though she'd tried brand his bare skin with hot iron. He finally turned his eyes turned toward her, his stare icier than she'd ever seen it.

"I'm fine."

Liar.He was most definitely not fine and neither was she. Mercedes remained quiet for a moment, but her mind hummed trying to figure out a way she could comfort him or assuage his fears without asking him to pull down the walls he'd erected between them. She came up empty. She'd hurt him so much that she wasn't sure he'd ever let his guard down around her again.

"I'm glad you're okay," she whispered under her breath. In that moment, he'd had to tilt his head forward to hear her words, and she got a whiff of his scent. The heady mixture of salt and the masculine scent of his favorite deodorant always had an intoxicating effect on her as it did now. She felt a stirring in the pit of her stomach as she struggled to beat the old feelings back. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Turning on her heel, Mercedes strode down the length of the empty hallway, feeling the distance growing between them. She wanted so desperately to burst into tears, but not here. Not now. She'd wait patiently until she was behind closed doors and in the privacy of her own room and only then would she give into the despair that threatened to swallow her whole. She'd cry for Quinn, for Sam, and for everything she'd lost.