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Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
Note: someone mentioned sex... Rape will not be incorporated in the story. That's just... no. When/if they decided to be that intimate, both parties with want it.
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Acceptance
"I'm not wise, but the beginning of wisdom is there;
it's like relaxing into - and an acceptance of – things."
Tina Turner
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A month had passed since Mercedes and her friends, or siblings [one really couldn't be certain], had taken Sam from the dark streets of Lima and brought him to Marshall Hall. They hadn't killed him, he was thankful for that much. But they hadn't let him out of his room long enough to stretch his legs and get some fresh air. He had bathroom breaks and a daily twenty minutes for a shower. Meals were brought to his room by a very nervous Puck, who refused to look him in the eyes.
Sam spent most of his days daydreaming and listening to the trio's interactions. After his second week in captivity, he'd come to accept that no one was coming to save him. Any plan he had to escape had been postponed. He needed something to work with, and he had nothing.
He spent a lot of time listening to the trio talk, trying to understand them, and had come up empty handed. There was no explanation as to why he was still alive, though he suspected Mercedes was behind that. They laughed a lot and teased each other, and sometimes, when the evening called for it, Sam could hear them sing together. Santana had a bluesy voice; raspy and sexy. Puck had a voice that could sing anything from rap to country. Then there was Mercedes. Her voice was soulful and seductive. It called to him, like a siren in the sea.
They seemed normal enough, if you ignored the whole kidnapping and murdering thing. Which, he mused, was a big factor. He wanted to understand, to fix them and escape. After all, he had made his living helping people who were lost. Children, to be exact, but that didn't mean he wasn't able to help adults. There was a sharp knock at the door that brought him out of his thoughts. That would be Mercedes with his lunch tray. He knew it was her because she was the only one who bothered to show some type of respect for him.
"Yep," he said and sighed as the door opened. He frowned when he saw her hands were empty.
"Do you want to join me?" Mercedes asked. Her expression was unreadable, as it often was when he was near her.
"Join you where?" he asked cautiously.
"For lunch, in the dining room."
He stared for a second, waiting for the punch line. When there was none, he chuckled. "This is starting to look like Beauty and the Beast. You know?"
Mercedes cocked her head to the side, one eyebrow raised.
"You've never heard of it?" he exclaimed. "Well, there's this really pretty girl- Belle- who's kept prisoner in this old castle by Beast, a hideous looking man and-"
"Are you telling me I remind you of this... hideous looking man?"
"God, no. Never." Shit, thought Sam. "That's not what I meant. In the movie, Beast asks Belle to have supper with him in the dining room, and never mind."
"Ah, I'm going to pretend this never happened." said Mercedes slowly. "It's better that way. Now, lunch or not?"
Sam didn't need to be asked again. He followed her through the gloomy hallways, keeping his mind on pleasant things. It didn't matter that he'd already been in the house for a month, it still creeped him out. Before long, they reached the dining room. The table was huge, big enough to fit at least ten people. At the end of the room there was a large fireplace. It was a room fit for a king, even if it was in need of some restoring.
"The previous owners loved luxury." said Mercedes, noticing his interest in the décor. "Judging by the amount of attention brought to the kitchen and this room, someone must have enjoyed cooking and hosting diner parties." she shrugged, a sharp jerk of the shoulders. "Sit, I'll be back in a minute."
He did so as he watched her disappear behind a large swinging door near the fireplace. True to word, she was back quickly, holding two plates of pasta.
Lunch was eaten in silence. Mercedes appeared to be lost in thought and Sam had no idea what to make out of anything. She hadn't threatened him at all today, not even when he had unintentionally insulted her. His plate clean of food, Sam pushed it away from him.
"Where are Puck and Santana?" he asked. Puck wasn't that bad, he seemed like a lost kid. It was Santana that terrified him.
"They're out." she said shortly, and set her fork down. "Tell me about yourself."
"Nope." Sam shook his head. This was a risk, but one he was willing to take.
"Excuse me?"
"It's not fair that I have to tell you about myself and you get to be all mysterious."
"Unless you haven't noticed, Sam, we're aren't exactly equals so 'fairness' isn't an option."
"But it is now." he said stubbornly.
It was clear that she wasn't used to getting much back-talk. He saw shock flicker in her eyes before it was replaced with amusement.
"Fine, a question for a question."
"Deal." Sam smiled to himself. He was going to save her and be free. Thank the fucking lord.
"What do you do?" she asked. "and don't lie, I'll know if you do."
"I work at the youth center in Lima. Kids that need a place to stay out of trouble go there. I also do therapy, for kids mostly. Everyone needs someone who'll listen. Do you work?"
"I don't need to." she replied. "We have enough inheritance to last for a while. What made you want to help kids?"
"My parents lost their jobs when I was younger. Recessions suck. I needed to help them, so I did some things I'm not proud of. I grew up too quickly. I figured everything happens for a reason and decided to take that experience and use it to help other people. I'm good with kids." he flashed her a smile. "Why do you live here if you have so much money?"
"I- we- no longer exist. If we turned up in government databases, too many questions would be asked. All we want is peace." she was still guarded, but he saw her soften a bit. "What kind of things did you do that make you ashamed?"
"Stripped. I stripped for two years. Silly to be ashamed today, but I hated it. It was easy money though, and we needed it. It was my secret. Are Santana and Puck really your siblings? You look nothing alike."
"No," she shook her head. "At least, we aren't blood related if that's what you mean. But they are my family in every other sense of the term. You say you work with kids, that you're a shrink, but your hands aren't soft." she glanced at his hands. "They're worker hands."
"I play the guitar, and I build things when I have free time. For the center." he smiled again, this time nervously. "Why haven't you killed me yet?"
"I think you're interesting."
"But you kept me locked in a room for a month."
"Twenty-five days." she corrected. "You aren't the only one who needed to adjust. I need Santana to warm up to this situation. The only one keeping you alive is me. You have something I want and until I get that, you can't leave."
Sam frowned. He had no idea what she was talking about. "I don't-"
"Yeah, you do. The thing is, people like you don't realize how lucky they are. We watch people. We've seen happy people throw love away for a quick roll in the sheets. We've seen people let fear consume them. We've seen hate burn bright in eyes that should only see beauty. You people don't understand how lucky you are to have the opportunity to love, to fear, to hate. You can never balance out those emotions. So while we're here, unable to feel, you just take advantage of your them. You make up silly reasons to feed the hate in your hearts, to ruin the joy of love and you build cities based on fear. I want that luxury, Sam. I want to have so many emotions burning in me that I can afford to be careless with them. If I knew how to love, I'd never let anything outshine that feeling."
Sam shook his head, still slightly confused. Now that he was being given the chance to help her, he was nervous. "What can I do? I mean, do you want therapy? What? Why me and not the only people you've killed."
"You weren't supposed to ever come across us. We don't just kill anyone, it's complicated. You aren't our type. But you do have something special, something that shouldn't be wasted. Teach me to be human, and I'll let you go. You'll never see us again." she smiled sadly. "It would be a shame to kill you, but I will if you won't help."
"You don't need to threaten my life all the time, Mercedes." Sam glared at her. "I'll help. But I want to be free after, no changing minds."
She nodded. "Perfect, but we do things my way."
"Meaning?"
"You don't get to sit on a chair scribbling notes while I go on and on about my life. That's just stupid." she took a breath. "And we never speak of this when the others are here. Santana wants no part in this... experience and I don't want to upset Puck. He's been through to much already."
Sam shrugged. He wasn't planning on scribbling notes in the first place. He knew he wouldn't have been helpful to her, following that method. As for talking to the others, he never really had an opportunity to do so and he said as much.
"Yes, well, you'll be dining with us as of now. I've cleared it with them."
"Great."
"Can you play something for me?" asked Mercedes abruptly. Though, he noticed that when she asked something she was merely commanding someone politely. "Puck has a guitar-"
"Just show me where it is." he grinned, despite her glare.
"I really hate being interrupted, Sam."
"And I really hate being kidnapped, Mercedes." he countered, much to her surprise.
"I can't tell if you're stupid or brave." she mumbled, shaking her head and standing. "Wait."
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She back a few minutes later, holding a guitar that much resembled his own. "Puck has a few, is this one okay?"
"Perfect." He took the guitar from her as she sat in her chair. Sam wasn't prepared. He didn't know Mercedes, or the type of music she wanted to hear. Was he supposed to try to impress her? Or just play because she was curious? He chose to play a song for himself; not too upbeat, soft and sweet enough not to offend even though the lyrics were somewhat sad and wistful.
If I could leave this town, I'd bolt
Enjoying the lost and found, And start all over
I crib the open road, Like birds in summer
A chance to break the mould, Is all that I'm after
Can you offer anything, doctor
Help me start again, Moving forward
Without awkward moves, I would be brave
The moment he began, Mercedes felt herself soften. He had a sweet voice, but it was the emotion behind it that touched her. For a second, she scolded herself for having part in making him feel like that. But if he was singing for himself, then she guessed his home life wasn't going very well either. That wasn't her fault, but it interested her. Sam wasn't like anyone she had ever met, for the simple fact that she never met someone who could be her equal. Santana, as much as Mercedes loved her, argued and complained but there was no denying who was boss. And Puck, well he was an entirely different story. Yet, Sam had sat at that table and actually challenged her. That was new and she wasn't certain she liked it.
And if I could just escape this body
I know I wouldn't fake for just anybody
I claw my heart for you
And keep it until I was okay with what I do
That's all that I'm after
"Sam." Mercedes placed a hand on his to stop him. "I think it's time for you to go back to your room."
"You don't like my voice." he said. "Nothing like yours, but it's not that bad."
"You have a great voice." she admitted. "But Santana and Puck will be here soon."
Sam nodded slowly. There was something in her eyes that he had never seen before. It wasn't sadness, it seemed more like confusion. Well, he'd succeeded in making her feel something. He still wasn't certain how a person like her was unable to feel. She had rage in her, didn't she? Unless she wouldn't feel the need to murder people.
He left the guitar on the table and followed her back to his room.
"Hey, Mercedes?" he asked as he sat on his bed. "You can feel. You just don't know how to deal with those feelings."
"I don't-"
"When are you happiest?"
There he was, interrupting her again. However, his question caused her to hesitate. "I'm only happy when I see people die." she said finally. "That's what we need to fix."
"But there has to be a reason, something that triggered that response to murder..." he wondered aloud.
"of course there is." her eyes were cool again and any trace of emotion he had seen in them were now gone. "We'll talk about this tomorrow."
And with that, she stepped out of the room and locked the door behind her. The murders... they weren't random. They were getting something out of every kill. She was happiest when she killed? Like a drug haze? He had so many questions, but he relaxed knowing he'd know everything soon enough.
For the first time in years, Sam prayed. He was finally given a chance to save himself, and at the same time learn something. The future suddenly looked brighter.
Song: Goldfish - Kate Walsh
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