Hello!

I don't normally write Glee (this is my first) but I love Quinn and Fabrevans and decided I needed closure on them because as far as I know (admittedly I may have missed a couple of episodes 'cause I'm not diehard) we never got any on the show. I have nothing against Samcedes but I had to get this off my chest and out of my head or else I wouldn't have been able to get back to my other stories.

Fair warning: There is no happy ending to this story; it's about all the things they never said, not getting them back together. If there's call for it and I get inspired I could write a sequel (as much as I like angst I also like pay-off) but I won't guarantee anything. That being said, I hope you'll still read it and I hope you enjoy :)

This takes place at the end of 3-13 while they're still at Breadstix.

I DO NOT OWN THE CHARACTERS OR THE SHOW - I'M JUST GIVING MYSELF WHAT THE WRITERS WON'T

Quinn pushed through Breadstix' door and into the chilly air, cinching the belt of her coat tighter as she scanned the darkened parking lot.

"You take up smoking again or are you checking up on me?"

The proximity of the sound made her want to jump; years of discipline allowed her to suppress it. Taking a steadying breath she turned to find Sam leaning up against the building, partially shrouded in shadow. "If there was ever a day…" she joked, unsmiling. It wasn't a coincidence she'd made her way back to the God Squad this week of all weeks; just because she'd decided to focus on herself (again – she'd get it right eventually) didn't mean she couldn't use the distraction. Granted she hadn't anticipated a week of delivering sappy love songs for disgustingly happy couples…

Sam noticed she hadn't answered the question but he hadn't really expected her to; if there was one thing she was good at it was not making you feel like a charity case even when you knew you were one. "Everybody still partying?" It was closing on midnight and he just wanted to go home. Well, not home home – his temporary home at the Hummel-Hudson's. Though home home was beckoning, too…

Moving to hold up the wall next to him Quinn crossed her arms to burrow her hands in the opposite sleeves, gazing off into the distance. "Yeah – Mr. Motta might not be mafia but evidently underage drinking isn't a big concern for him." Even if she hadn't been driving she would have abstained – her and alcohol didn't mix at the best of times and she was hoping to avoid instigating a fight and/or dissolving into a blubbering ball of weak. It was a little harder to fake being poised and perfect three sheets to the wind…

He nodded but didn't volunteer an opinion; the events of the day had taken their toll, leaving him numb and beyond caring.

"Did you want me to give you a ride home?" she offered, certain he wouldn't ask. "You know Kurt's not going to leave Blaine's side without a crowbar and Finn and Rachel are too busy celebrating their ill-advised yet fully-supported pending nuptials to tear themselves away…" She had no idea what the heck their parents were thinking but apparently she wasn't the only one suffering from random bouts of temporary insanity. The thought wasn't as comforting as it probably should have been.

"No. Thanks." The last year had been the worst of his life for a lot of reasons and this was just one more to add to the growing list; it wasn't going to send him running.

Quinn let the faint echoes of music envelope them, knowing he would speak when he was ready to. Or go back inside if he just didn't want to speak to her. While it would probably be awkward for him to talk to his ex-girlfriend about his other ex-girlfriend their relationship since the break-up couldn't exactly be considered conventional…

It was a good ten minutes before Sam broke the silence to tell her, "You don't have to stay, you know…" She wasn't dressed to be standing outside – as evidenced by the way she'd put her sleeve around her nose and mouth and blown into it – and he didn't want her to be uncomfortable just because he couldn't stand to partake in the festivities.

That it was phrased as a suggestion, not an instruction, wasn't lost on Quinn. She was cold though so she decided to get the ball rolling. "I'm proud of her, you know?"

Sam took his attention off the passing traffic to glance at her.

"Mercedes," she clarified, seeing his confusion out of the corner of her eye. "I guess proud is the wrong word – I have no right to be proud of her…" Putting her thoughts in order she started again. "What I mean is that I admire her."

"Admire her?" he repeated incredulously. Was it some kind of cruel joke? It wasn't like Quinn to come outside just to rub it in – not the Quinn he'd started dating anyway – and he hoped she had a good explanation.

Well aware he'd taken offence she dropped her voice to a soothing decibel. "Here the rest of us are making terrible decisions based purely on emotion, but she's taking a step back and actually looking at the reasons behind it before she does more damage." She focused on the lights of a retreating plane, avoiding his gaze. "I wanted Beth back because I thought she could somehow heal me; make me not feel dead inside. Rachel thinks getting married now will somehow negate the fact that they're too young to even know what they want for the future much less that it will be the same when they do. And you… you think getting Mercedes back is going to somehow justify how you got her."

It was hard to get upset when her tone was soft and her words were reasonable but he managed it. That she still refused to meet his eyes, even while criticizing him, made it a bit easier… "She was with me first…"

Quinn shrugged, ignoring the hypocrisy. "And I was with Finn first; it doesn't make what I did right. Or Rachel for going after him the second or third or whatever time it was the last time. Or any of the other times our friends have played musical partners…" They really were a sadly incestuous little family. "It takes guts to admit you did something wrong and that it isn't okay just because you have feelings for the person; not to pretend that the other person you hurt doesn't hurt just because you stopped." Finally meeting his eyes she shared, "It takes even more guts to let yourself hurt so you don't hurt someone else more…"

Sam didn't need to see the unshed tears to know she was thinking about her decision to let Beth go, and he was gripped with sudden and horrible guilt. For ignoring the obvious cries for help when he'd returned to Lima; for brushing her off and rejecting her problems as trivial when she'd risked her reputation and her relationship with Finn to help him before he'd left. And because, despite how he'd treated her, she was still trying to help him.

Turning back to the horizon Quinn willed her eyes dry. "You can't blame Mercedes for wanting to be sure the decision she makes is for the right reasons, Sam. Even if it doesn't work out – she doesn't choose you – it still means she loves you enough not to needlessly hurt you while she figures it out."

Her voice was hoarse, almost regretful, but Sam knew if he mentioned it she'd just say it was due to the weather and all the singing she'd done. Still, he couldn't not mention the implication. "And you didn't…"

Quinn thought the more accurate parallel to draw would be that she hadn't loved Finn enough but it was a useless distinction to make, especially since she'd settled for him anyway. "Apparently not," she admitted quietly. As much as she'd hated Santana for it the Latina wouldn't have been able to break them up if she herself hadn't made the first crack with her lies. If she'd loved him enough, loved herself enough, she'd have come clean and maybe they'd have been able to work through it. It was just one more 'what if' to add to the pile of 'coulda shoulda woulda's that made up her life…

"Did you love me at all?" The question was out there before Sam could stop it, though he wouldn't have taken it back even if he could. For all the time they'd spent together before he moved they'd never really talked about them, the only closure he'd gotten the empty victory of being the one to walk away.

The knot in Quinn's chest tightened, making it difficult to breathe. She didn't know which was worse: that he was afraid to ask or that she'd given him reason to doubt it to begin with. Swallowing the guilt she whispered, "Does it matter?"

"It does to me," he assured her, voice low yet forceful. Her jaw tensed but she didn't turn, just kept staring ahead, so he moved to stand in front of her and waited for her to meet his eyes. "'Cause I thought you did and then I found out you were playing me for a fool and then I thought you didn't." More plea than statement he quietly finished, "I need to know one way or the other, Quinn…"

It was on the tip of her tongue that he would know if he had actually talked to her instead of falling at Santana's 'feet' but all the recriminations in the world couldn't change what was already done. "I wasn't trying to play you, Sam," she sighed, burrowing her hands further into her sleeves so she couldn't give in to the need to touch him. "I mistook the satisfaction of Finn pursuing me for nostalgia and I didn't tell you because I was confused and careless." Lifting an eyebrow she added pointedly, "I wasn't half as self-aware or selfless as Mercedes is…"

Sam shook his head, not following her attempt at deflection. "That's not an answer…"

She'd said as much as she was prepared to on the matter. There was no reason to rehash old wounds, not when she was newly independent and he was in love with someone else; nothing to be gained by telling him she sometimes wondered if he'd missed her at all once he'd moved, or if he spoke Na'vi to Mercedes the way he used to her, or if the self-proclaimed diva had given herself to him completely last summer. Why, with all the time they'd spent babysitting together, had she had to find out from Rachel that he was dating Mercedes at all… Looking up at him with affected detachment she reasoned, "That's subjective, isn't it?"

"Seriously, Quinn?" The gross indifference had him clenching his fists in his pockets and choking out, "Do you get how much I loved you? I thought we were going to spend the rest our lives together for God's sake! I loved you so much I convinced myself that stupid gumball story was real… It almost killed me when Santana forced me to face the truth!"

The use of the past tense, the reminder of what she'd thrown away, left Quinn feeling nauseous and her eyes stinging. She immediately replaced the ache with anger. "She helped you get over it pretty quick though, didn't she? No heartbreak a jaunt down to Santana's Village can't cure, I guess…" It was a low blow but she'd been holding that shit in for a year.

Sam blinked at the undercurrent of venom. "That's not fair…" Unlike her he hadn't cheated; well, unless you counted that little sneak peak Santana had given him in the library but he'd already decided to break up with her by then…

Quinn waved a disinterested hand. "You know what's funny? Other than the fact that you left me for Santana only to be played by her? That you're now Finn, doing to Mercedes what he did to me." Except Quinn had foolishly invited it when she'd kissed him and Sam didn't have that excuse. "You think you're being fair to her? You're not."

Pulling a hand from his pocket Sam ran it through his hair in frustration. "You think I don't see what you're doing? Turning it to Mercedes every time I try to talk about us?"

"There is no 'us,' Sam," she informed him with a sad shake of the head. "We're barely even friends anymore…" There was a disconnect between them ever since he'd gotten back, though whether it was because of Mercedes or that they didn't have Stevie and Stacy around to bind them she didn't know.

The words cut like a knife even though there was at least some truth to them. Trying to hide the hurt he breathed, "Then why'd you come out here?"

Where he got off being insulted when he'd so swiftly dismissed her and her 'rich white girl problems' Quinn had no idea… "Because Mercedes and I may have our issues but she will always be my girl – she took me in when I had nothing and she was with me for the most difficult moments of my life… I don't want you to hate her for this; she doesn't deserve it."

The near-hate Sam was feeling wasn't aimed at Mercedes; he couldn't deny he was still drawn to Quinn – he still watched for her reactions and valued her opinion above most everyone else's – and the thought that he was nobody to her was agonizing. "So it has nothing to do with me at all…"

Quinn had seen him struggle to wrap himself up in the anger; heard the crack in his voice signaling he'd failed. "I didn't say that," she placated softly. She'd spent the last year trying to make it up to him any way she could; if that meant consoling him when someone else broke his heart then she sucked it up and dealt.

"Can you stop talking in riddles and just say what you mean?" he huffed, resisting the urge to shake some honesty out of her. "I'm not Batman and I can't read your mind!" Normally he found her flair for the enigmatic charming but right then it was just maddening.

Batman? It took Quinn an instant to make the 'Riddler' connection. Cocking an eyebrow both amused and mocking she 'tsk'ed, "Then you're a sorry excuse for a superhero, Mr. Evans…"

Sam fought to stay serious, keep the conversation on track, but was ultimately undone by the husky tone and mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Washboard abs count as a superpower!" he protested haughtily, lips twitching into a smile.

The familiar goofy grin had Quinn's heart skipping a beat, and for a split second she was transported back to before everything had gone to hell. The return trip had a horribly painful landing.

"Q?" The light in her eyes had died, replaced by glossiness, and Sam's smile died with it.

"Don't," she warned, putting out a hand to halt his advance. "You're just upset about Mercedes and it's making this all weird." A half-hour internal debate and she'd still made the wrong decision in coming out there…

Sam captured her hand mid-air, moving forward until he was holding it against his chest. "Please don't tell me how I feel…" Brushing her bangs away with his other hand he confessed, "You are a very hard woman to get over, Quinn Fabray. And every time I think I've succeeded you do something to remind me why I fell in love with you in the first place."

"Sam…" Her fingers curled around his of their own accord, even as she half-heartedly tried to put some distance between them.

"You risked everything to keep my secret – put me before Finn – and I can never tell you how much that meant to me." Giving her a charmed smile he admitted, "You kinda lost me on the whole Beth thing but in true Quinn fashion you regrouped and overcame. At the homeless shelter I saw my girl again, a little worse for wear but still fighting. Always fighting…"

Quinn bit her lip to keep from crying, the sincerity in his voice scaring her as much as it was tearing her apart. "You were …"

Sam covered her mouth before she could bring up Mercedes again. "When you sang that J5 song I couldn't take my eyes off you, and I felt like I'd gotten caught staring at the most untouchable girl in the school again. Like in the beginning, when you were saving me from slushies and schooling me in astronomy; before I managed to win you over…"

This time she couldn't keep the tears from escaping, the evoked memories too raw to suppress. Moving his hand she found her voice to argue, "But it's not the beginning; too much has happened since then. I've done too much…" This little foray down memory lane wasn't accomplishing anything. It wasn't what she'd come out there for.

"I don't care. I still love you, Q," he promised, brushing his thumb over the wet tracts that said everything she wouldn't allow herself to. "I don't think I ever stopped, and I don't want to say goodbye…"

Quinn swallowed the sob that was building in her throat. Placing a tender hand on his cheek she summoned all her courage to whisper, "Sam, we said goodbye a long time ago. You love Mercedes and I'm leaving in a few months."

He shook his head, opened his mouth to object, but her nimble fingers were lightly pressed against his lips.

"We were never meant for forever," she admitted painfully, tears streaming freely down her face. "We just maybe ended sooner than we were supposed to…"

"Quinn, no." Sam wouldn't accept that. He couldn't.

"I'm so sorry..." she whimpered, ignoring the shattering of her heart to gently disentangle herself from him. The last thing she'd wanted to do was hurt him again but things never turned out the way Quinn intended. Hurrying back into the restaurant she couldn't help but think, Everything I touch…

I'm sorry, too :(