Standard disclaimer: I don't own Glee or these characters, but gosh golly if I did...

This could not be happening.

Mercedes closed her eyes and stifled a scream as footsteps approached her hiding spot.

As she willed her body to stop trembling, certain that the combination of her thumping heart and jangling of hangers would reveal her location, she heard a voice call out from the other room.

"Get the disks and let's go. We gotta move."

The footsteps stopped their advance and the owner shuffled from one foot to another.

"Nah man, we have to check. You know Nick's broad has keys to this place. She could be here."

The voice from the other room drew closer, joining the first intruder. Both men were now in the room, standing inches from her location in the closet.

"We have to go. Now. You know our orders – in and out. If the bitch is here, so be it. We'll deal with it later. Let's move."

Mercedes held her breath, praying that the first man would go along with his partner.

After what seemed like an eternity, two pairs of footsteps turned and exited the room. She listened as they barreled down the stairs and out the front door, just as they entered.

Mercedes stayed in the closet long after they left, fighting the tears that threatened to fall.

This could not be happening.

Two hours earlier.

"Are you serious right now?"

Mercedes sighed as she flicked on her turn signal and changed lanes.

"Kurt, I'm sorry. I have to go in real quick and then I'll be back. You guys go ahead and order without me."

Silence.

"Kurt?"

"Mercedes, I love you. You know this. So that gives me the right to say what I'm about to say."

"Kurt I-"

"No Mercedes. No. It's your fricken day off. The first, might I add, that you've had since taken this god forsaken job two years ago. Two. Years. Mercedes. Why are you doing this to yourself?"

She was silent.

Kurt sighed, his voice gentler this time.

"Mercedes, honey, please. What are you doing?"

Mercedes closed her eyes, trying desperately to ignore the nagging feeling she had inside.

"Nick needs me to pick something up for him. He's out of town and –"

Kurt sighed, clearly frustrated.

"The man is using you 'Cedes. You got this as a temporary position and he's weaseled his way into your life, effectively making it revolve around his."

"Kurt, you don't know what – "

"We all know," he continued over her protests, "that you're waiting for the day he sees you, but if he hasn't by now, he won't. I don't know why you've convinced yourself that this - that he- is what and who you want, but the Mercedes Jones I know would smack this imposter upside her head if given the chance."

Mercedes was silent as she pulled into the sprawling home that belonged to her boss. She turned off the engine and listened to the silence that hung between her and her best friend.

He was right. As much as it hurt to admit it, he was right. She told him as much.

"I can't do this anymore. This is the last day."

Kurt sighed. "Like the last day last year or the last day last month?"

Mercedes blushed.

"No. The last day for real. I'll leave him a note."

"A 'Dear John'? Cute."

Mercedes smiled, the thinning of her plump lips devoid of humor and full of sadness.

"Something like that." She looked at her watch and unbuckled her seatbelt.

"Look, I've got to go. Let me call you when I'm done, okay?"

"Okay. Mercedes, I care about you and I don't want to see you doing this to yourself anymore."

"I know Kurt. I love you too. Tell the others that I'll catch up with you guys later. Enjoy your lunches."

She hung up before he could respond. She wasn't mad at him or even at herself. More than anything else she was disappointed in what she had become.

As she exited her car and used her key to enter the house through the backdoor, she thought about Kurt's words.

"…the Mercedes Jones I know would smack this one upside her head if given the chance."

He was right. As always. This wasn't the Mercedes who left Lima with lofty aspirations of being a star. When she first got to LA she was giddy with excitement. The possibilities were endless. But as it became strikingly clear that the only time she'd be able to use her vocal chords was as a backup singer or on stage at one of the local lounges, she realized that she needed to have a day job.

That's how she met Nick.

Nick Clemmons was everything that you imagined a big shot LA businessman to be. Suave, intelligent and handsome to boot. She remembered walking into his office with a resume, hoping that this, the tenth cold call she made that day, would be worth it.

"Remember baby girl, fake it til you make it," Mercedes told herself as she approached the receptionist at the front desk.

"Hi," she began, "My name is Mercedes Jones and – "

"Look hun, I'm gonna stop you right there because I've heard this story before." The woman looked up and Mercedes could see the game of solitaire reflected in her designer lenses. "You're looking for a job and are wondering if we happen to have any openings."

Mercedes' smile faltered slightly. "Yes, ma'am."

The woman chuckled softly. "Oh honey, don't 'ma'am' people here. It implies that you think someone is much older than you and in LA, that's a no no. Where are you from?"

"Lima, Ohio."

"Cute." She paused, sizing Mercedes up. "Okay, look. Tell ya what. Leave your information here and if something comes up I'll give you a call."

Mercedes flashed her a smile and thanked her as she handed her the piece of paper that contained the list of odd jobs she had done in the twenty-five months since landing in the city.

"Thank you so much. Have a wonderful day and I look forward to hearing from you."

As she turned and prepared to walk back to the elevator, she heard a deep voice that stopped her in her tracks.

"Gwen, I need you to do something for me."

Mercedes turned to see who the voice belonged to and inhaled sharply. Approaching the reception desk was the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life.

"Can you call one of the temp agencies and have them send someone over?"

"Again?" Gwen laughed.

The man let out a grunt.

"That idiot hung up on Donovan. Again. For the third time this week."

"Yikes."

"Yeah, yikes. I can't miss out on closing this client because some idiot doesn't know the difference between putting someone on hold and hanging up on them. So call the temp agency. Now."

The receptionist looked up and saw Mercedes standing there, watching the exchange.

"Actually, we have someone right here." She motioned for Mercedes to come to her.

Mercedes stared at her for a few seconds, silently wondering what was happening. The man cleared his throat, breaking her daze and she met his eyes, blushing slightly.

"Here goes nothing," she thought as she put on a smile and strode over to the desk.

"Hello sir, my name is Mercedes Jones, nice to meet you."

"Mercedes," the man repeated. "I'm Nick Clemmons."

She reached out and shook the hand that was extended to her. She drew in a sharp breath as they connected, feeling a spark run up her arm. As she looked from their joined hands up to his eyes, she noticed a myriad of emotions – humor, interest and… something else. She couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Mercedes shook her head, bringing herself back to Nick's kitchen. She closed the door and stepped into the house she knew like her own. Over past two years, she quickly became Nick's right hand man of sorts, their relationship as close as it could be on a professional level. But that's where it stopped. No matter how much she tried to deny it, she went to work each day hoping for more. She felt something for the man. Not quite love, but something. Whatever it was, it wasn't returned, a fact that she finally forced herself to acknowledge.

As she moved through the room and entered the hallway heading toward his office, something outside the window caught her attention.

A black sedan pulled up to the curb and two men exited the vehicle. Mercedes stood rooted in her position as they crossed the street and approached the house. For some reason unknown, Mercedes' feet began propelling her up the stairs to the second floor. She had one thought and one thought alone – hide.

As she ran into one of the guests rooms, she heard the doorbell ring.

After a few more rings, the door opened and she heard Nick's voice.

"What the – "

The next sound she heard was that of a gunshot and the door closing.

Mercedes screamed as the door to the closet she was hiding in opened.

"You're fine. Ma'am I'm with the LAPD. You're fine. Everything is okay."

The tears that she had been holding back escaped as she let out a sob.

The officer held out his hand and helped her out of the closet, walking the shaking Mercedes to sit on the bed.

"Ma'am, I know this is a lot right now, but we need you to tell us exactly what happened."

Mercedes, who had been staring silently at her clasped hands and lifted her eyes to his.

"I got a call this afternoon from my boss, Nick –"

She stopped.

"Nick! Where is he?" She jumped up from the bed, only to be stopped as she ran towards the doorway. She shrugged the officer off and ran to the top of the stairs, immediately wishing she hadn't.

The scene below her was one out of a movie.

There was blood on the walls and a gurney in the middle of the foyer.

"Miss, I'm sorry, but –"

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. This didn't make any sense.

"No." This time the single syllable was stronger. "He's not dead. He's not even in town. He –"

The officer gently led her back into the room.

"Miss, please. Tell us what happened from the beginning."