Wow, so this is something completely different to anything I've ever done before (which isn't hard because I'm a new writer!) and eventually it'll grow into a multi-chapter fic.

Anyway, this is inspired by the song Hazard by Richard Marx. It's completely AU and I tried to do something a little different with it. I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of the characters, nor do I own Hazard by Richard Marx

People looked at him differently now. They had always regarded him warily, he was relatively new to town, he spoke with an accent and his tendency to break into random impressions had him labeled as a bit of a weird kid. His dyslexia and the fact that he'd become homeless in his junior year of high school certainly hadn't helped any either. People had treated him like he was a charity case, or like homelessness was a disease that could be caught. Not Mercedes, though. She'd seen him and made the effort to get to know him, the real Sam Evans. Mercy didn't care that he didn't have any money, she was content to just spend time with him. They'd often hang out at the park or take long walks down by the river together, just talking and discussing their lives. Sam grew to cherish those hours spent with Mercy, far more than he could ever bring himself to tell her. She'd become his best friend in such a short time, and he hadn't wanted to risk ruining what they had by admitting how much she meant to him. So Sam had kept quiet.

He knew that Mercedes pretended not to hear the things people said about them, about him. He could always tell when someone had said something to her before one of their walks, she would never tell him directly, but he would be able to feel the defensiveness in the way she carried herself, like she was daring anyone to say anything else against him. Sometimes Sam would wish that he was man enough to let Mercedes go, to free her from the derision that her association with him caused. But no matter how much he thought about it, Sam couldn't force himself to give up the girl he cared so much about. It was selfish of him, he knew, but there it was. Mercy had made him feel special rather than weird, she'd made him feel wonderful and alive and absolutely perfect as he was.

And then she had disappeared.

It had been a day like any other. Mercedes had come by the motel where Sam was staying with his family and they'd walked together to the riverbank. The sun was setting over the water and Sam had pointed out how beautiful the colours had looked reflecting off the water. Mercedes had smiled and said that she often thought that sunsets were like God's watercolour paintings. They'd stopped for a while and watched the sun go down as they leaned across the steel railings that separated them from the still waters of the river below.

Sam had thought about telling her then, of admitting just how much he cared for her as the fading stretches of sunlight dyed her hair a dark purple and made her cheeks blush pink. She was laughing at something he'd said and for a moment Sam wondered what it would be like to be with her, to have her as his girlfriend, to be able to take her hand as they walked and put his arm around her when they walked. But then the sun had finally sunk over the horizon and the streetlights had flickered on, and the moment had been lost.

Now Sam wasn't sure if he'd ever get to tell her, and he unconsciously eased a hand over his heart as he tried to fight the familiar pain of not knowing. He'd gone over that night so many times in his head, replayed every second of conversation he could remember trying to find some clue as to what might have happened.

Mercedes had seemed distracted, he remembered that much, there had been a few times when she'd been so lost in her own thoughts that she'd missed whole chunks of conversation and had had to ask him to repeat what he'd said. She'd had a weird look in her eyes too, Sam recalled, it had been… odd. She'd looked haunted.

Sam wished that he could go back and ask her what was wrong, but he'd figured she'd tell him when she was ready and he hadn't wanted to push her. He'd finally left her at around 10 o'clock that night, after begging her to let him walk her home. Mercedes had laughed it off, saying that she didn't need a big strong man to protect her, and that she wanted to stay out a little longer anyway. She'd said she had some things to think about and Sam had left it at that, although he really hadn't been happy about it. Leaving a girl alone at night just didn't sit well with him, but he'd had to rush home to take care of his younger siblings and couldn't afford to spend the time arguing. His brother and sister would have been asleep by then, but his parents had night shifts and none of them wanted to leave the kids alone. Besides that Mercedes had refused to be swayed, so he'd left her bathed in the light from a nearby streetlamp leaning into the railing as she stared down into the water. He'd raised a hand in farewell and she'd thrown him a mock salute in return, and that had been the last time he'd seen her.

The next day he'd waited patiently for Mercedes to show up at his motel, but she never had. Sam had even walked down to the payphone on the corner to try calling her cell, but when he'd finally got through it had gone straight to voicemail. Sam had finally admitted that he was worried enough to borrow the family car and drive over to Mercy's house to check on her. He still remembered the feeling of dread in his stomach as he'd climbed the steps to Mercy's apartment. He'd stumbled over his words a little when Mercedes' roommate had opened the door. Sam didn't think the Latina liked him very much at the best of times, but she'd been extra snippy with him that day.

'Hi Santana,' he remembered saying, 'sorry to bother you, I just wanted to see if Mercedes was ok, she's not answering her cell and she was supposed to meet me tonight but she didn't show…'

Sam had trailed off, not knowing what else to say as Santana had fixed him with an accusing glare.

'I don't know where the hell she is.' The girl had explained, crossing her arms across her chest in a way that was probably meant to look aggressive, but actually betrayed the young woman's obvious concern.

'She didn't come home last night.' Santana continued, 'I actually found myself hoping that she'd hooked up with you or something.' Her shoulders tensed as she hugged her arms closer to herself, 'I couldn't get through to her either.'

The protective instincts in Sam made him want to reach out and comfort his best friends roommate, but something told him that Santana wouldn't appreciate it. This was a girl who prided herself on being tough, even if in that moment she appeared far from it.

'I called the police,' Santana announced after a while, 'but they said they can't do anything until she's been gone 24 hours. What kind of bull crap is that?' Santana's ponytail bobbed angrily as the girl shook her head. 'As far as I know, no one's even seen her since last night.' The brunette narrowed her eyes as she regarded Sam again, 'Did you do something to her?'

Sam could still feel the stab of shock in his gut even though he was just reliving the memory. Santana had been the first person to look at him like that, with suspicion, like maybe he'd done something to Mercedes, maybe he was the reason she'd disappeared. Sam didn't know how to say that he could never hurt Mercy, that he would never want to. It felt wrong to him to tell everyone else about how much you loved a girl before you told the girl herself. Sam didn't even consider the fact that people might truly believe he'd done something to hurt Mercy until he was sitting in the police station.

Sam had been quick to assure Santana that he had nothing to do with Mercedes' apparent disappearance, even pointing out that he'd hardly come looking for her if he knew what had happened. Santana had looked vaguely appeased, but not convinced. Sam hadn't taken it too seriously then because he'd truly expected Mercedes to walk through the door at any minute. He'd even been preparing his 'We were all worried sick!' speech, but when Sam still hadn't heard from her by the following morning he'd gone down to the police station himself only to find that Santana had already filed a missing person's report.

He hadn't realized he was a suspect until the police had led him into a separate room with a one-way mirror spanning the length of one wall. He'd been left on his own for a while before a couple of detectives had walked in. One of them, a athletic looking white guy with curly hair who looked to be in his thirties was clutching a file. He dropped it onto the table as his partner, a tall blonde woman in a dark pants suit, slid into the chair opposite Sam.

'Good morning, Mr. Evans.' The woman said, eyeballing him as her partner sat down next to her.

'I'm Detective Sue Sylvester and this is my partner Detective Will Schuester.'

Schuester dipped his chin in what Sam supposed could pass for an acknowledgement before he spoke.

'From what we understand, Sam, do you mind if I call you Sam?' he asked, interrupting himself but not waiting for an answer.

'From what we understand, you were the last person to see Mercedes Jones on the night of the 16th, is that correct?'

Sam bit his lip and clasped his hands together on the table. He'd just wanted to file a report, but this was beginning to feel like an interrogation.

'I guess so,' he answered finally, 'I mean, I left her at around 10 at night so I guess someone could have seen her after me. Why? Is she ok? Did you find her?'

Sam couldn't keep the note of panic out of his voice as he realized that these officers might know something more than he did. What if Mercedes was hurt? Or worse? Sam didn't want to think about that. Mercy wasn't dead. He wasn't sure how he knew that, but he did. Either that or he just really didn't want to believe that anything could have happened to her. Truth be told, Sam was having a tough time wrapping his head around the fact that Mercedes was even missing.

'We'll ask the questions, if you don't mind, Evans.' The detective named Sue interrupted and Sam raised his hands up in a gesture of apology.

'Can you describe the last time you saw, Miss Jones?' Schuester continued, and Sam dutifully described his last walk with Mercedes, including how he'd left her by the river.

'Can anyone verify that?' Sylvester had queried, and Sam had had to admit that actually, no one outside his immediate family could. His parents had been there briefly when he'd gotten in, but his siblings were asleep, and there was no one to verify that he hadn't gone out again.

'But I don't understand,' Sam had said quietly, 'do you know if something has happened to Mercy?'

The two detectives had exchanged a look and Schuester had finally sighed and tapped the binding of the manila folder on the table as he explained.

'No, we don't know what happened yet. At this point in time, Miss Jones is a missing person. We're just trying to piece together the facts so we can try and figure out what happened as soon as possible.'

Sam looked between the two detectives, taking in their somber expressions and their unwillingness to meet his eyes.

'You think she'd dead, don't you?'

Schuester opened his mouth to say something but Sylvester stopped him with a hand on his arm.

'We don't know what happened, but we do know that the first 24 hours are critical when someone goes missing.'

'But 24 hours has already passed!' Sam's voice rose in frustration, 'You guys said we had to wait 24 hours before we could even report that she was missing!'

'Calm down, Sam.' Schuester advised. 'I know this is difficult, but we're going to need you to co-operate if we want to find her, ok?'

Sam nodded and rubbed his temples.

'Yeah, I know, I'm sorry.' He took a deep breath and let the air out in a long continuous stream.

'But I already told you guys everything I know. I don't know how much more help I can be.'

The detectives glanced at each other and seemed to be communicating something wordlessly before Sylvester slid back into her seat.

'Of course you did, but why don't you tell me again?'

Sam ran his hands through his hair as he once again recounted the last time he'd seen Mercedes. Schuester had left the room, to do what Sam didn't know, but he told the story again, in as much detail as he could remember, just in case something he said would help them find Mercedes.

The detectives made Sam repeat his story at least four times before they finally let him go and the afternoon sun was reflecting off the roofs of the cars in the parking lot when Sam finally emerged from the station. Sam felt emotionally drained by the time he reached the motel, and his worry for Mercedes had his nerves on edge. He'd lie down for a while when he got in, Sam decided. He realized that it wouldn't fix most of his troubles, but he figured that he might feel better equipped to deal with everything after a rest.

Sam had just fitted his key in the lock when, Figgins, the motel owner, stopped him.

'Samuel,' the older man had said to him in his heavily accented English, 'you have messages.'

Sam had practically run to the office when he'd heard that, praying that one of the messages would be from Mercedes, letting him know that she was ok.

Figgins had regarded Sam warily out of the corner of his eye when he'd done that, but Sam didn't want to fill the motel owner in on what was going on just yet. Figgins was a nice enough guy, but his wife was a huge gossip, and Sam knew that whatever he said to Figgins would eventually get back to her, which meant it would eventually be all over the town.

As it turned out, it didn't matter what Sam did or didn't say, Figgins had been fixing a broken sink when Sam's calls had come in, which meant that his wife had taken the messages, which meant that what Sam had carefully decided not to tell Figgins would be common knowledge in a few hours.

Call from Santana Lopez at 10.27am

Sam, a few of us are going to canvas the neighbourhood and see if anyone has seen Mercedes. We're meeting at 1pm if you want to help.

Call from Dwight Evans at 12.33am

Sam, I just got a phone call from a Det. Schuester. Is everything ok?

Call from Santana Lopez at 1.14pm

Where the f [Mrs Figgins had refused to write this word] are you? Do you even care that Mercedes is missing? If you do bother to show up give me a call.

Call from Mary Evans at 1.25pm

Honey, are you ok? Your dad said he got a call from the police station and no one has heard from you since this morning. Give one of us a call when you get this.

Sam checked his watch and ran a hand through his hair. It was 1.45pm, which meant he'd only just missed that last call from his mom. Sam dreaded to think what his parents must have been thinking. He'd fished in his pocket for some loose change as he'd dialed his mom's work number on the corner payphone outside the motel. She'd picked up on the third ring.

'Mercedes is missing.' Sam told his mother after they'd said hello. 'I don't know what's happened to her.' He admitted, feeling the hot sting of tears prick in his eyes as his mom tried to soothe him down the line.

'I was at the police station all morning,' Sam went on, 'I'm pretty sure they think I had something to do with it.'

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone before Mary Evans spoke.

'Why would they think that, Sammy?'

Sam leaned his head against the cool glass of the phone booth and closed his eyes, hoping against hope that when he opened them this whole situation would go away. That he would wake up in their crappy motel room in his stupid camp bed and then go for a walk with Mercy and laugh about how freaky the whole thing was.

'Because I was the last person to see her.' Sam supplied. 'Because everybody but Mercy thinks I'm stupid and weird, because people don't understand our relationship.' Sam let out a sigh that hovered on the edge of becoming a wail.

'I don't know! I just want her to be safe.' Sam's hands had formed into fists and he clenched them so tightly he could feel his short nails digging into his palms.

'They seem to be more concerned with blaming me than they are about finding Merce.' Sam complained, the frustration turning his words sharp and bitter. Sam heard his mom let out a sigh of her own on the other end of the phone and knew she was considering what to say next.

'Well,' Mary Evans began, 'you didn't do anything, and from what I understand they can't actually arrest you for anything until Mercedes turns up.'

Sam found himself nodding into the receiver as his mom continued.

'So, just co-operate with the investigation until then, Sam.'

'Do you think they'll find her?' Mary hadn't heard her son sound that vulnerable since he was a small child, but Mary had gotten to know Mercedes pretty well herself while the girl was growing closer to her son, and she knew that Mercedes was not the type to run away without saying anything. If Mercedes was gone, Mary was certain that it wasn't of her own will, but telling Sam that would destroy him, so she did what she thought was best for the wellbeing of her child… and lied.

'Yes, honey, I think they will.'

Sam had stayed on the phone with his mom a little longer to talk about who was picking up his siblings and when, so it was quite a while after he'd returned to the motel before he'd actually managed to get into the motel room. He'd crossed immediately over to his camp bed and flopped into it with a groan. He needed to believe that the police would find Mercedes, he needed to believe that they'd find her just as safe and sound as he'd left her. The cops would handle it.

Except that, two weeks later, Santana had called to tell him that the police were no longer investigating Mercedes' disappearance. They'd told Santana that the trail had run cold and that a lack of evidence meant that they had to assume that Mercedes had just run off somewhere. When Santana had pressed them the detectives had just shrugged and said that there was nothing more they could do. The case was officially cold.

Sam lay on his back staring at the ceiling, he'd do this every now and again before he'd realize that he had to keep busy or he'd drive himself crazy coming up with scenarios regarding what might have happened to Mercedes. Despite what everyone had said, Sam couldn't believe that Mercedes would just up sticks and leave like that. He knew her better than that, she wouldn't go without saying anything to anyone, without saying anything to him.

Scrubbing a hand over his face Sam ran a hand through his hair and swept it to one side as he climbed up off the bed, deciding that doing laundry would be as good a distraction as any. He made quick work of stripping the beds of their covers and shoved them all into a large bag with the rest of his family's dirty washing, tossing in washing powder and conditioner before he zipped it up and hauled the whole thing over his shoulder, ready to take to the launderette around the corner. At the last minute, Sam turned and snagged a comic book from his backpack and shoved it on top of the pile, figuring that he could probably do with something to read while he waited, being alone with his thoughts was not a good prospect for him anymore.

Sam had finished loading two machines with laundry and they were spinning merrily, so he hopped up on top of one of the dryers and pulled out his comic, realizing belatedly that it was one that Mercedes had given him a few nights before she'd disappeared. It seemed like everywhere he turned there was something reminding him of Mercy, reminding him that she might not be safe despite what the police said. Sam tried to shake the feeling as he turned to the first page.

One of the things that people didn't realise about Mercedes was that she was an amazing artist. Honestly, she was one of the best Sam had ever seen, but she didn't like to tell anyone. Instead it had become something between the two of them, a shared secret, especially when Sam had admitted that he was a massive comic book geek. Mercedes had laughed and shyly admitted that she drew her own comic book series, and had eventually given in when Sam had begged her to let him read it. Mercedes had been reluctant at first, she'd said that she hadn't shared her comics with anyone else, which made Sam feel extra special when she'd let him read them. He'd been overwhelmed with how good the comics were, and he was so vocal with his praise that Mercedes had started leaving him little clues and references in her comics that only he would get as a thank you, waiting patiently for him to spot them and delighting in his joy when he did. Sam tried to batten down the pang of fear he felt when he considered the fact that Mercedes might never draw another comic. He made a concerted effort to enjoy this one, to study it even harder in her honour. It would probably seem dumb to anyone else, but Sam knew that Mercedes would appreciate it.

That was probably how he spotted it. He knew he would have seen it eventually, but it was only because he was concentrating extra hard that he saw the signs, the clues that Mercedes had woven into her comic just for him to find. It was something she'd do sometimes, incorporate words and symbols into the artwork so you'd have to look extra hard to find them. Easter eggs, she'd told him once, and his face had split in a grin when he'd realized what she meant.

'Like on a DVD?'

'Yup,' she'd nodded, 'only these ones are just for you.' She'd added, winking at him.

He'd spent hours poring over her comics in the past, and even now he could pick one up and see something new that he hadn't even noticed before.

Sam smiled at the memory and then frowned at the image in front of him. He could swear that there was something off about that first frame.

Sam studied the comic with increasing determination when he realized what he was seeing, and he was so engrossed in piecing this little puzzle together that he completely failed to notice when both machines had finished their cycles. There was a message hidden in the first frame of Mercedes' comic book, it took a while, but after Sam had finally picked out all the hidden elements he sat back and put them all together in his head.

Sam felt a chill run down his spine that had nothing to do with the temperature in the launderette when he realized what the message said. It wasn't like the others Mercedes usually left him, those were usually in-jokes and dorky pop culture references, but as Sam stared down at the first frame he realized that although they had been close, there must have been an awful lot that Mercedes hadn't beentelling him, because the message read:

'Sam, I think I'm in trouble.'