First off - thank you! I was really nervous going into this fic, but all your kind words just spurred on the inspiration and here I am, posting up the second chapter! :)

As it always happens, I reread the first chapter and found a bunch of stuff I thought felt wrong. :s Eep. I was inconsistent with the color of Sam's eyes - let's just clear it up and say they're green. Also, just to point out, my timeline is obviously a little strange - Blaine, Tina, and Sam are entering their first year of college, which means the rest are in their second year. I'm not sure what time of the year this is set in, but I'm not dedicating a whole chapter to the start of the new school year or whatever. So you can just assume we're somewhere in September, kay? :)

Anyway, here's the second chapter! There's a little bit more Sam and Quinn interaction, but if y'all could tell me what you think of the banter between Mike and Quinn, I'd also really appreciate it. :)

Enjoy, read, and please review! Your comments mean so much to a writer - even a writer of fanfiction. :P

Obviously, I don't own Glee or its characters. DUH.

Chapter 2: Where Are You Tonight?

There's a white diamond gloom on the dark side of this room and a pathway that leads up to the stars.
If you don't believe there's a price for this sweet paradise, remind me to show you the scars.
There's a new day at dawn and I've finally arrived.
If I'm there in the morning, baby, you'll know I've survived.
I can't believe it, I can't believe I'm alive,
But without you it just doesn't seem right.
Oh, where are you tonight?

She pulled the toaster lever downwards and grabbed her coffee mug, leaning against the kitchen counter comfortably. Outside, the sun shone brightly and with just a quick peek, Quinn knew it was going to be a torturously hot day. She liked those best, though – there was something exhilarating about being able to run around the city in the least amount of clothes deemed socially acceptable. Unfortunately, Quinn also knew she would never be able to enjoy another hot summer day again. In fact, she was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to enjoy anything in New York ever again - not if Sam and Tina were going to be cavorting around the same city she lived in.

Oh, god, she wanted to throw up.

Instead, the sound of the toaster interrupted her thoughts and she caught the Pop Tart that came out, quickly shoving a piece into her mouth and letting the warm strawberry filling coat her tongue. She wasn't one to have sweet things in the morning; in fact, Quinn was pretty strict about her diet. But desperate times called for desperate measures and seeing Sam and Tina together last night was definitely a call for desperation.

"Hey, sunshine,"

Quinn whipped her head around and smiled, seeing Mike saunter into the kitchen. "Hey, Chang," she quipped, offering him the other half of her Pop Tart. He took it wordlessly, chewing on the ends while leaning across the counter.

"How are you?" he asked, an eyebrow raised in concern.

"How am I?" Quinn wondered aloud, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "Let's see…my ex-boyfriend, who I haven't spoken to in like, two years, showed up in the city I'm living in. Oh, and he's living with your ex-girlfriend, who you're still in love with. How do you think I am?"

"Freaked?" Mike shrugged, dusting off the crumbs on his hands. He rounded the counter to grab Quinn's bag and together, they both walked out of her apartment towards the nearby subway. "At least they're just living together, right? Blaine told me they got really close during senior year and I guess…I mean, Sam's a good dude. He'll take care of her,"

Quinn cringed at Mike's blind faith. Clearly, he still hadn't picked up on the obvious relationship between Tina and Sam – either that or he was in serious denial. "Yeah, I guess so," she muttered lamely, as she swiped her subway card and they hurried into the train together.

"I wonder why Sam didn't get an apartment with Blaine, though. Tee's always talked about getting her own place in the city," Mike mused.

"Can we not talk about them?" Quinn asked abruptly. She knew that the more Mike talked, the more she would have to lie. A part of her knew she would have to tell him eventually, but the idea of shattering the illusion Mike had already created was something that was literally making her nauseous.

"Why do you never talk about Sam?" he retaliated, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You talk about Puck and Finn all the time. Not to mention all those losers you go on dates with," Mike pointed out.

"Okay, why are you being so pushy about this all of a sudden?" Quinn scrunched her nose in annoyance. "I don't recall you ever getting this obsessed about any other aspect of my love life,"

"Or lack of," Mike teased, earning him a swift, playful punch in the arm from his best friend. "I never noticed it before, I guess," he explained.

"Well, quit noticing," she snapped.

"Touchy,"

"I'd just…"

"Rather not talk about it. I know," Mike finished her sentence, and she knew he had already let it go. Silence fell between them for the next few subway stops, before Quinn's curiosity got the best of her.

"So, why do you think they decided to get an apartment together?" she asked, as they stepped out of the train to join in the mad rush of people.

Mike shrugged, grabbing a free flyer from a passer-by and handing it to her. "It's cheaper. They're both going to school around the same area. Besides, it's nice that they have each other to lean on in the big city – kind of like us,"

Quinn nodded, although her insides felt like they were constricting from lack of air. 'What school is he going to? What's he majoring in? Comic books and impressions?' she thought, laughing bitterly to herself. But before she even had a chance to answer, Mike dropped her bag in her hands and dropped an affectionate kiss on her forehead.

"I'll see you after class? Don't forget, we're teaching tonight,"

She watched him sprint across the courtyard to get to his next class – probably some medical terminology seminar or something equally confusing – and giggled softly when he dodged around a group of skaters, his lithe figure bending around the crowds of people to pass through.

Mike had been there for her through everything, from the days she was bullied to the days she ruled the school as head cheerleader. He had held her hand through all the times she needed support and he had pushed her hard enough during the times she needed motivation the most. Quinn was lucky to have a friend like him, closer than any of her family members could ever be and more understanding than any boyfriend could ever try to be.

She just wished he wasn't so damn optimistic all the time.

"5, 6, 7, 8!" Mike counted, before launching into a series of complicated dance moves, his arms weaving in and around his body. Beads of sweat flung from his forehead as he spun, his feet stomping in time to the beat of the song that blared from the stereo. In front of him, a group of kids watched in awe, as their instructor snapped his fingers and Quinn suddenly came into the picture – leaping across the floor in perfect time with the change in music. She moved gracefully and elegantly, executing each move with the precision that only came with years of training.

After another minute, the music finally tapered down and there was a rousing sound of applause from the kids. Panting and breathless, Quinn and Mike bowed exaggeratedly, before sitting cross-legged in front of their audience.

"So, what'd you think?" he asked.

One of the younger girls, Elizabeth, raised her hand eagerly. When Mike nodded, she said, "I liked it when Quinn came in. She looked like a butterfly,"

"Thank you," Quinn smiled and Elizabeth blushed, turning her head away shyly.

"Alright, now, you guys took Modern Dance to learn a little bit of everything, right?" Mike clapped his hands together to get the room's attention. Quinn slipped away quietly, relegating herself to the corner of the room, where the stereo system was. Mike had always been better at conducting classes and taking charge, while she picked out the mixes and choreographed most of their routines. Much like their dance performances, their teaching styles were also synchronised.

Quinn started the music for another Mike Chang showcase and she watched, mesmerized as his limbs moved like liquid. After the song ended, she got up to showcase her part of the dance again and for the next hour, they taught the steps to the kids. Some were on point – picking up the moves easily and flawlessly. Others had more trouble, like the Schrader twins, who couldn't get the timing right. Either way, Quinn loved every minute of it. She never would've thought that teaching was in her blood (she left that to the sensitive types, like Finn Hudson), but there was something satisfying about passing down what she knew to other people.

As always, they ended their dance class with a freestyle session, before letting the kids go on their way. Quinn hoisted her dance bag on her shoulder and just as she was about to bounce over to Mike, her phone started to ring. Grabbing it from the side pocket of her bag, she slid her finger across the screen and quickly held it up to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Quinn!" a bubbly, energetic voice came through the speaker and without any announcement, she knew it had to be Rachel Berry.

"Hey, Rach. I'm just about to leave dance," Quinn explained.

"I'll be quick, I promise. You and Mike are coming over for dinner tonight," Rachel said authoritatively.

"Way to spring the information on us, Berry. Any particular reason why?"

"Other than the fact that we haven't seen you in ages? Come on, Quinn, we miss you!"

"I'll ask Mike if he's free,"

Rachel scoffed over the phone and Quinn knew she was rolling her eyes. "You two are attached at the hip, I swear. Anyway, just text me to let me know and I'll see you guys later. Love you!" with an abrupt click, she hung up, leaving Quinn to chuckle at her friend's absolute disregard and obliviousness to other people's plans.

"We're invited to dinner at Rachel and Kurt's tonight," Quinn announced as soon as Mike was within earshot. They turned off the lights at the studio and walked out into the cool evening air.

"Ooh, lucky us!" he joked. "Any reason why?"

Quinn smirked, hailing down a cab with ease. "She says they miss us," she shrugged, sliding into the bright yellow car. Mike followed her and their bodies lurched forward slightly, as the cab driver wove in and out of city traffic.

"Which means Kurt is free from Vogue tonight?"

"Probably," Quinn chuckled, as the cab came to a stop in front of her apartment building. They split the bill for the taxi and slid out together. "Anyway, they invited us over in about an hour. Do you just want to get dressed at my place?"

"I thought I cleaned out all my clothes from your place already," Mike wondered aloud, following Quinn into the elevator.

She opened her front door and tossed her things onto the nearby couch, heading straight for the fridge. "No. You say you will, but you never do. So now I've got a nice little wardrobe for Mike Chang, all set up in my closet," she teased, tossing him a bottle of Gatorade.

"That's nice. You can go sit in there if you ever miss me,"

"Why would I go sit in your closet?"

Mike shrugged, taking a long gulp of Gatorade. "There's a joke in there somewhere, but I'm too tired to find it. Can I shower first?" he asked.

She nodded and left him to it – after being friends for so long, she knew he'd have no trouble finding what he needed. Instead, she pulled out some leftover funfetti cake (from a baking impulse she had had at 3 AM one time) and started in on it, stabbing pieces with a fork.

She had spent the whole day, going back and forth between telling Mike the truth about Sam and Tina, and keeping it quiet. So far, she couldn't bring herself to do it. 'Besides, it's not my place to say anything. Sam and Tina should be the ones to explain,' Quinn thought. 'And aside from my gut feeling and seeing them hold hands once…I have no proof.'

When they stepped into Rachel and Kurt's apartment later that night, they found themselves in the midst of an absolute frenzy. Smoke was coming out of the oven, a pot was overflowing on the stove, and a blender was still running, obviously forgotten. Kurt was nowhere to be found, but Rachel was shrieking at the top of her lungs – although she wasn't exactly doing anything to stop the disaster in the kitchen.

"Rachel, move!" Mike sprang into action, grabbing the small brunette and shoving her out of the way, as he quickly turned off the blender, the stove, and opened the oven. "What the hell is going on? Where's Kurt?"

"Santana and Brittany are talking to him," Rachel answered in a small voice.

Quinn crossed her arms and leaned against the wooden pillar separating the kitchen and living room, an amused look across her face. "Why?"

"They're coaching him, because…" she stopped herself, as if she was about to reveal some big secret. "He has an audition,"

"Bullshit," Mike scoffed, sitting himself down at the dining table.

Rachel glared at him, as if daring him to challenge what she had said. "What are we going to do about dinner?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Let's go out," Quinn suggested. "There's a nice Italian restaurant that's not too expensive about a block away,"

"I am so sick of Italian. All that bread? No thanks," a familiar voice interrupted the kitchen conversation and Santana Lopez sauntered in. Dressed in a body-hugging mini dress and knee-high boots, her fingers were intertwined with Brittany's. "Hey, Fabray," she grinned, holding her arms out for a hug.

Quinn grinned back, running into Santana and Brittany and squeezing them tightly. "Auditions in New York?" she asked Brittany.

"Yeah. My flight home is tomorrow," Brittany led them over to the living room where they all settled in comfortably.

"Do you guys want drinks? I have wine," Rachel offered. Brittany nodded and got up to help, just as Kurt walked out of his bedroom.

"Let's just order pizza. They won't mind, will they?"

"They just got to the city, I think they'll eat just about anything," Rachel chuckled. Mike looked over his shoulder at Quinn, his eyebrows raised in confusion and a look passed between them. But before he could ask who they were talking about, the doorbell rang and Kurt skidded across the floor to answer it.

"Hi,"

Quinn saw Mike's eyes widen in shock and fear, and she strained to see who it was at the door. But with Kurt blocking the way, she only saw them as they walked in – and her heart sunk.

Tina. Blaine. Sam.

She counted them off in her head, each one entering the apartment hesitantly. When Sam came in last, she felt the air leave her chest and if it hadn't been for the sofa she was sitting on, Quinn was sure she would've fainted. Instead, she shot a panicked look over at Mike, telepathically telling him that she needed to get out of the apartment fast, but he was still too shocked to move. To Quinn's horror, everybody else seemed to be perfectly fine with having Tina, Sam, and Blaine settle down to make themselves comfortable. They sat at the dining table, filling up the chairs that were once empty and Quinn bristled slightly, her stare locked on Sam's back. Covered by a thin, white V-neck shirt, the fabric seemed to pull tight across his muscles and when he moved his arms, they rippled and flexed.

She had to leave. Immediately.

"So how do you guys like the Big Apple?" Santana asked, getting up from the couch and walking over to the kitchen.

"It's great!" Tina quipped, flipping her hair over one shoulder. Quinn saw Mike lean forward eagerly and she knew – any hopes she had for leaving early were dashed, just by one expression on Mike Chang's face. "It's such a rush being here. I've got to get a job, though," she groaned, propping her chin in the palm of her hand, as she rested against the table.

"Well, we're always looking for more bartenders," Santana offered with a smirk.

Rachel held up her hand in protest. "Somehow, I don't think Tina is cut out to work at Coyote Ugly," she wrinkled her nose in obvious distaste.

"Oh, don't be mad that they don't let Hobbits into the establishment," Santana sneered, before turning to the rest of the group. "Did you know little Miss Barbara Streisand got carded?"

The apartment filled with laughter and for a split second, Quinn believed she could actually get through the night without throwing up or running out in fear. Her shoulders began to relax and the self-righteous part of her conscience kicked in.

There weren't a lot of people who had a group of friends like she did. They were lucky and blessed to have found one another in high school – and even luckier that they managed to stay so close, despite the distance (not to mention the number of times they had dated each other's exes). Quinn surveyed the room quickly, trying to commit each face to a memory. There was Mike, obviously, who was her other half. Kurt and Rachel, who were both over the top and crazy, but still so loyal – she knew they would go to the ends of the earth for her. Then there was Santana and Brittany, who were the strongest and fiercest girls she had ever known. Blaine and Tina had been there for her during some of the harder times in high school and Quinn knew there were a whole slew of her friends who were with them in thought – scattered over the East and West coast, trying to make their dreams come true.

And then there was Sam Evans.

"Okay, I ordered the pizza. It should be here in a few minutes," Kurt announced, his voice bringing Quinn out of her thoughts. "In the meantime, let's watch a movie!" he clapped his hands together excitedly.

"Yeah, let's do that," Quinn added, grateful for the suggestion. 'Movies are good. People are quiet during movies. No talking, no eye contact…thank you, Kurt!' she thought.

There was a scramble between Rachel, Kurt, Brittany, and Blaine towards the DVD stand, each of them picking out their favourite movies. They gathered around the coffee table in the living room and Quinn grabbed Mike so that he sat next to her. She felt a little bit of her nerves start to slip away and when the group started to talk over one another, Quinn felt a comfortable ease settle over.

"We're watching Dirty Dancing and that's final!" Rachel exclaimed, grabbing the DVD out of Kurt's hands and stalking over to the TV.

Suddenly, Quinn felt herself stiffen and the comfortable ease she had felt earlier completely disappeared. Without wanting to, her eyes skimmed over the group to Sam, who had taken up a space on the floor near Tina, who was perched in an armchair. She saw his shoulders tense and he ran a hand through his hair – she knew exactly how he felt in that moment. Quinn made a move to get up, but Mike's firm grip on her arm pulled her back down.

"Sit. Everybody's going to notice if you just get up and walk out," he whispered through gritted teeth. Quinn turned her head to face him, a pained expression etched across her face.

"You don't get it. It's this movie," she whispered back.

Mike raised his eyebrows at her. "What, you hate Swayze? Suck it up," he rolled his eyes and leaned back into the couch, effectively ending the conversation.

Quinn sighed and stole another quick glance at Sam, who was busy trying to get comfortable against the armchair he was leaning against. Her heartbeat sped up in anticipation, until it finally caught in her throat, and his gaze met hers for the first time since she saw him in New York. The moment clung in the air like a thick fog and stole her breath, years and years of memories rushing back into her mind. But as quickly as the moment came, it left, swept away by the crushing realization that came when Tina draped her arm over Sam's shoulder and her fingertips curled around the ends of his hair.

He belonged to someone else this time.

It was an hour into the movie when it happened. The instrumental parts started first and Rachel made a point to tell everybody to shut up, because it was one of the most iconic film moments in history. Quinn felt it build in her stomach and as the scene played out on the screen and deep down, she knew she wasn't going to be able to handle it. It brought up too many memories, too many recollections that she had kept away for a long, long time. Just as the music was starting to swell and she heard the same, familiar first lines start, Quinn jumped up, thankful that everybody else was too engrossed in the movie to notice her sudden movement. Stepping lightly around them, she found the window and climbed up onto the fire escape, hurriedly making her way towards the roof.

The night air was cool and bit into her bare arms. She scolded herself for not grabbing her jacket before she came out onto the roof. As usual, there were no stars, but the city stretched for miles and miles in front of her. Buildings rose high into the sky and people, who looked like ants from this high up, scurried on the sidewalks. Quinn briefly wondered where they were going or where they were running away from. 'Or maybe it's a person? A ghost of someone they thought wouldn't come back again –'

"Damn it!"

The sudden outburst made Quinn jump, whirling around and nearly falling on her butt. "What the hell?" she murmured, trying to make out the figure that was now half limping, half walking towards her. "Mike?"

"No, although I'm sure you wish it was,"

Quinn staggered back slightly, the realization of who it was finally hitting her. That deep, familiar Southern drawl, the one that only got stronger when he was annoyed or mad, that same voice all those years ago that blended so perfectly with hers…

"Sam?"

"Hey," he mumbled breathlessly, sitting himself down on an old crate. He flipped his hair out of his eyes and looked up at her. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,"

"I wasn't scared,"

"Sure you weren't,"

"I wasn't," she insisted. "I just thought you were someone else,"

"Right. You thought I was Mike," Sam leaned back on his hands and looked up at her accusingly, his head cocked to one side. She bristled under his gaze, suddenly conscious of the fact that they were alone on an empty rooftop – and it was far too close for comfort.

"So what if I did?" she shot back, marvelling at the way her voice was calm and steady, despite the nerves that shook her.

Sam shrugged, turning to face the empty sky. His gaze fell over the twinkling lights of the city and for a minute, silence fell between them. Littered only by the sound of cars and people's distant voices, the rooftop was quiet and Quinn shifted uncomfortably underneath it all. Quiet was bad – it only meant that they'd have more time to choose their words carefully.

"Have you seen Dirty Dancing since?" Sam asked, not looking at her. 'Since? Since when? Since that night in the motel? Since high school? Since us?' Quinn thought frantically.

"Yeah, all the time," she shrugged nonchalantly.

"You've watched it all the way until the end?" Sam snorted. "Because the way you ran out back there…seems like you do that a lot,"

"What, run?" Quinn gulped, trying to swallow in as much air as she could. It caught in her throat and she was just about to cough, when she noticed Sam chuckling softly. Not wanting to be left out, she asked, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. "Everything,"

This time, it was Quinn who cocked her head to one side, trying to figure him out. Sam in New York was different than the Sam she knew in Lima. There were parts of him that were still the same – the impressions, the superhero references, and the lean, athletic body. But other parts, the not so distinct parts, were different. The ever-present smirk, that damn chuckle, and this sudden wisdom and maturity that followed him wherever he went. It was unsettling and endearing and Quinn was trying to figure out how that could be.

She took a step back and tried to put a little distance between herself and the Sam she once knew. He noticed, of course, and smirked, again. But nothing - not even having a private conversation with the one person who knew every little crevice of her personality and heart on an abandoned rooftop – could prepare her for what came out of his mouth next.

"So, how long have you and Mike been together?"