A/N: So! This is the last piece of the story, and it's been my favorite story to work on so far—well, one that I've finished, anyway—and I'd like to thank you guys for the amazing support! Hopefully there'll be more 4-parters to come. Lord knows we need more Fabrevans in the world.

Enjoy!

xXx
CeruleanBlues

Fix You

Part 4

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

I find myself back in my cold, empty bed, lying alone in the darkness as the soft sounds of the television plays in the background. Sinking deeper into the duvet, I inhale the foreign scent of clean laundry and groan at my stupidity. His words still ring clear in my ears but I've yet to decipher their true meaning.

There's a knock on the door.

"Quinn?" Santana's voice calls out from the other side. "You have a visitor."

I groan, burying my head further into the comforter. "Tell Sam to go away."

"It's not Sam."

"Then who is it?" I snap, not in the fucking mood to be entertaining guests.

"Mike."

Son of a bitch.

"What does he want?"

"How the fuck should I know?" The fading of footsteps that follows lets me know that she's retreated back to the living room or something, and that I need to get my ass moving.

Throwing the covers off my body, I hop out of bed to find Mike standing awkwardly in the doorway, and I shoot my roommate an admonishing look when I see that she hasn't exactly invited him in. Hospitality isn't her strongest suit, and I get that, but she could've put the poor guy out of his misery.

"What are you doing here, Mike?"

He straightens up and squares his shoulders. "You didn't call me back, so I went to the apartment—or rather, your friend, Sam's apartment—and he told me where you were."

"You talked to Sam?"

"He seems like a really nice guy," he shrugs, seeming a tad bit uncomfortable. "He obviously cares a lot about you."

We're now treading on dangerous territory—one that I refuse to discuss with my former dance partner—because what goes on with Sam and I are really none of his business. Folding my boney arms across my chest, I repeat my earlier question.

"What are you doing here?"

"I just want to make sure you're okay. After that day—"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Right, right," he clears his throat.

I quirk an eyebrow, growing impatient. "Is that all?"

"He told me about your past."

For a split second, I feel my heart skip a beat, and the cold feeling of dread fills the entirety of my being. Torn between the pressing urge to march over to Sam's apartment to pound him senseless and defending my actions to Mike, I try to keep an impassive front.

"And what is it about my past?"

"It's coming back to haunt you, isn't it?"

Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
And I...

The night air is crisp and cool as we stroll through the park, and I hug the cardigan tighter around my shivering frame. Walking a safe distance apart, Mike jams his hands into the pockets of his pants. Honestly, there's nothing left to be said, because whatever he wants to know, he already does.

"He's just looking out for you, Quinn."

"He's hurt, that's what he is."

He shakes his head, slightly amused. "I would be too if the woman I love slept with another guy that's not me."

"What?"

Noticing that I've fallen back, Mike stops and turns around. "What's wrong?"

"You said something about the woman you love…" I trail off, mumbling.

"He loves you, Quinn. Anybody could see that."

It hits me like a ton of bricks. "I didn't."

"I thought it was pretty obvious."

Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I...

There's a box on my doorstep addressed to me, and there's no mistaking the scrawl on the small card. Carefully lifting the flap, I glance down at the four mini muffins until Santana snatches the note from my hand to read the message aloud.

"Don't forget your breakfast." She waves it in front of my face. "Is this from Sam?"

"Yeah."

"Are you going to eat them?"

"I'll take one with me."

Sue makes us train through lunch, but nobody dares to complain. With much to work on in the given deadline, she doesn't want to take any chances. Investors and board members are going to be present in three days to vet on the production. Any doubts or flaws will be a potential threat to the company and my career.

It starts quite subtly at first until Brody hauls me up for the lift, and then it feels like a plane crash waiting to happen. Everything spins out of control with an abrupt onslaught of headiness, my vision blurring, white spots appearing before my eyes as I try to blink them away.

"Quinn!"

I stir back to consciousness to the pedestrian beeping sound of a heart monitor and the clinical scent of linen. There's a sharp probing to my arm, and I laboriously lift my eyelids to study the tube that's putting me on drip. The fluorescent lights are thankfully dim, and a quick glimpse at the window lets me know that it's night.

And then I notice him, slumped uncouthly in a plastic chair—his shaggy blonde hair falling over his forehead—as he emits soft snores, and it's single-handedly the most adorable sight I've ever seen. Even though I know that he's furious with me, the idea that he's camped out on hospital furniture sends a hopeful tingle down my spine.

"Sam? Sam."

"Quinn?"

He practically throws himself on top of me, and I can't resist a small giggle as he gently cups my face in his calloused hands.

"Hi," I whisper, admiring his handsome features.

"Jesus, Quinn," he grates out; his voice is husky from sleep. "Don't you ever dare do that to me again, you hear? Promise me you'll never do that again. You scared the shit out of everybody in the studio earlier on—"

"Wait, what?"

"You passed out during training and—"

I gasp as the revelation sinks in. "Sue! Oh, my God, what did she say? Is she mad at me? Damn it, I'm going to be in so much trouble. She's probably going to pull me out of the main lead and give it back to Rachel—or worse, she might throw me out of the company and I'll be the failure that my mom always thought I was and—"

"Quinn, listen—"

"How could I have been so careless with this, I mean, I thought I did everything right and now—"

He kisses me, capturing my lips between his full ones, and effectively shutting me up in his own unique method. Calming me down in a way that only he knows how, he intertwines his fingers through my disheveled tresses and slowly pulls away.

"Breathe."

The tears prickle at the back of my eyes and spills down the sides of my cheeks, but he lovingly knocks it away with his thumbs.

"I don't know what else to do, Sam. I've tried everything."

"Quinn, when will you learn this?" he murmurs brokenly. "You don't need to fix anything about yourself. You're perfect just the way you are."

"But Sue doesn't think so."

"Well then, I guess you're just wasting your talents here."

"That's not true, Sam. I—"

"Need a company who will appreciate you for who you are," he emphasizes. "You're a phenomenal dancer, Quinn Fabray. I'm just sad that you don't realize it."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"And what makes you think I was hurt?"

His forced nonchalance doesn't fool me, and in his own twisted world, it's his way of telling he that all is forgiven. I know he doesn't want to venture into that pit of quick sand again, but there's something I need to hear from him.

"Mike told me something interesting the other day."

He shifts in his spot next to me on the bed even though he's technically not supposed to be there. "Oh, yeah?"

"Why didn't you tell me that you love me?"

There's a beat of hesitation.

"Because you weren't ready to hear it."

She doesn't fire me like I fear she would, but Sue isn't at all psyched when she receives the news. Sitting in her office, on the very same chair I'd been on that very first day, I feel a liberating pounding in my chest when I see the shock register on her otherwise platonic features.

"May I ask why?" Her words, though rather polite, are laced with her usual demanding demeanor.

I've rehearsed this a million times in my head but the idea of saying it out loud scares me. "I don't think I'm cut out for the part."

"Can I tell you something, Quinn?" It's rhetorical, of course, so I mutely nodded. "I've seen thousands of dancers in my career as a creative director of this company, and trust me when I say that I'm never wrong. I picked you for a reason, Fabray. You just need to stop doubting yourself."

"But Rachel—"

"I told you that the part is yours, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but—"

"But nothing," she insists. Cracking a smile—an incredibly rare occurrence for her—she goes on to add, "I want you to own this spot, Quinn, and I want you to shine. You already have it in you to chew Rachel's scrawny ass, so get back up on that horse and whip it into shape. It's going to be a long race, and you're going to win it."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I'm never wrong."

Sam kicks me out of the apartment again, but this time he doesn't tell me why—only that it's not personal whatsoever—and whenever I come around, he'd either ignore my arrival at his door or yell through it that he's busy and sends me away. It actually makes me wonder if he's building a bomb or hiding some top-secret military experiment in there, and it's not funny anymore.

"Let me in right now, Sam Evans or I swear to God I'll break the damn door down!"

"Please don't do that," his muffled voice pleads from inside.

I've long bypassed pounding on the barrier since it's proven ineffective and it'll only hurt my fists for days to come, but yelling is good. "Then open the fucking door, will you?"

"Jesus, Quinn, I'm busy! Come back another day."

"This is urgent. We need to talk."

Instead of a straight reply, I hear things being shuffled around, and then a loud thump, followed by a string of rich expletives. Seriously, what the fuck is he doing in there?

"Are you cheating on me in there?"

He cackles out loud. "We're not even in a relationship."

That's real mature. "Stop being an ass, Sam! Open up!"

"Stop being a pain, Quinn! Go home!"

The next few weeks are spent fully invested in the production. Trainings are extended to the wee hours of the night, sometimes even starting as early as dawn. Brody and I have been rehearsing on our own as well, and we've finally learned the ins and outs of communicating with each other. He doesn't tattoo me with bruises anymore, so I stop purposely stepping on his feet as a punishment.

"He sent a tray of sushi today from that strange place you like."

Sam feeds me everyday without fail, and I'm not exactly sure why he does it, but it's not like I'm complaining because I'm always starving when I get home.

I drop my set of keys on the cabinet by the door and accept the food that Santana is holding out to me. "Thanks." Grinning down at the post-it note pasted on the plastic cover, I roll my eyes at the cheesiness of the message before flopping down on the sofa next to my roommate to eat. "What are you watching?"

"This show called Glee."

"The one with the bunch of singing high school kids and no continuity in the plotline whatsoever?" I deadpan, not understanding the media hype and appeal.

"That's the one."

One minute I'm strolling down the pavement on the way back to the apartment, and the next thing I know, there's a sharp tug on my wrist and I'm being pulled into a dark alley with my back slammed into the wall. A hand comes up to stifle my scream just as I'm staring into an unmistakable pair of sage-colored eyes.

Two months.

It's how long I've decided to ignore him, which is also how long it takes for his resolve to crumble, apparently.

"It's me."

I slap his arm away and forcefully shove him off me. "What the fuck are you doing?"

He glances away, sheepishly rubbing the nape of his neck. "I've missed you."

"Whatever, Sam—" I make an attempt to walk away, but his strong hold on my waist keeps me in place as he leans forward to press his front tight against mine. In our close proximity, his musky scent—coupled with tinges of paint fumes, charcoal and fiber paper—wafts into my nose, and the way my body responds to his is immediate.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shut you out."

"Apology not accepted," I retort, the last bit coming out as a gasp when he grasps onto the back of my thighs and effortlessly lifts me up, pinning me to the brick wall.

"How can I make it up to you?" he croons, a cock-sure smirk already gracing his oversized lips.

"You can't."

But he tries anyways, plunging his tongue into my mouth. It's masculinity in its rawest form as he clutches onto the fabric of my camisole and deliciously thrusts his hips against mine. A wanton, telling moan departs from my throat as he whispers my name in that low timbre. Feverish with the heat emanating between us, I clinch onto the soft material of his black hoodie and give it a hard yank, crying out to the heavens when he responds by sinking me down onto his clothed erection.

A loud clanking sound jolts us out of our lustful fog, and upon realizing what we were about to do—and more so where we were about to do it—I give Sam a hard whack to the back of his head.

"Ow!" he grimaces.

"Put me down."

As soon as my feet touch the floor, I duck under his arms to adjust my skewed outfit. "You're such a fucking caveman, Sam," I grumble at the wrinkles on my new top.

"I had to get your attention, somehow," he shrugs and pulls a fancy-looking card from the back pocket of his pants.

"What's that?"

"Why don't you read it yourself?"

It's an invite to his graduation show down at a local gallery.

"Will you do me the honors of attending?"

"We'll see."

There's absolutely no way in hell I'm missing Sam's showcase, of course, and Santana goes all out as to accompany me on a shopping spree. It takes quite a bit of convincing, but she reluctantly concords to the modest approach instead of draping me with something sheer or backless, and when I mention a graduation gift, she's zipping me off to a lingerie store, much to my dismay.

Primped to perfection—and to Santana's approving nod—I head over to the gallery. The atmosphere is surprisingly cozy—none of the pretentious shenanigans—as people of all ages, shapes, colors and sizes mill around admiring wonderful works of art.

"Excuse me, are you Quinn?"

I whirl around to be greeted by a friendly face of a middle-aged man in a purple suit and frazzled hair. Trying my best to identify him, I plaster a smile and offer him my hand to shake. "Yes, I am. I'm sorry, I don't seem to recall meeting you, sir."

"Call me Liam. It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person, young lady."

With that, he walks away, leaving me confused in the middle of the gallery until a soft, warm hand lands on the small of my back.

"I see you've met my professor."

I blink at him in disbelief. "That's your professor?"

"Come on," he beckons, steering me away. "I've got something to show you."

I stare at it in awe, the breath hitching in my throat, and I'm left speechless, because covering nearly the entire wall, is a portrait of me. Painted in dazzling hues of red, orange and yellow with angles and shadows highlighted in blue, I marvel at the care and attention given to the piece, almost as though each bold stroke carries a life of its own. He captures the motions perfectly, the lines and details so exquisitely translated onto the canvas, it blows me away.

"Sam…"

"Do you like it?" He's shy and apprehensive as he patiently awaits my reaction.

"It's amazing." Meeting his bright, sparkling eyes, I whisper, "you're amazing."

"There's more."

He places a portfolio in my hands, and it's a collection of charcoal sketches and photographs that he's done. One in particular draws me in—and I can't seem to recall ever having to pose for him as such.

"Sometimes, I stand outside the window of your studio just to watch you dance. And then I remember it."

"How'd you—"

"I have you memorized by feel, Quinn. I wouldn't need anything else."

He's my best friend, as I am his.

But this time, it's so much more.

For the first time in my life, I'm seeing myself through someone else's eyes.

His eyes.

And through his eyes, I was beautiful.

"Sam…"

"You don't need anybody to fix you, Quinn."

He looks so handsome and dapper in a black button-down shirt and slacks with his blonde hair neatly trimmed just enough so that it doesn't fall over his captivating eyes. A lopsided smile settles on his full lips, and in that moment, I just know it.

"Remember when Mike told me that you love me?"

"Yes?"

"I'm ready to hear it now."

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

A/N: The end! I truly hope you guys have enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it! From here, I suppose I'm concentrating on my other stories. THA, especially needs some serious attention right now, but WIME is my priority. However, who knows, when I do get pockets of spare time, I might get another small fanfic done. Till then!

Mandorac: Hi there! Thank you so much for constantly reading, reviewing and supporting my work! I appreciate your time and effort in leaving me encouragements and motivations to pick my butt up and continue writing! This last chapter is 'acceptance', and of course, Sam helps Quinn realize that she doesn't need to change anything about herself, so hopefully that came across. I totally agree with your point—that Quinn doesn't let Sam in even though she claims that he's her best friend—but in the end, she's ready to let him in, and so I suppose, with that said, I'm sure this is a beginning of a wonderful relationship!

Overgron'sLilLamb: Hello there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing my story! I'm glad that you like how the story develops, and I really enjoyed exploring Sam and Quinn's deep friendship/relationship. There's always a fine line between loving someone and being in love with someone, and I'm a romantic at heart, so I kind of swoon for stories like that.

RJRRAA: Hiiiiiiiiiiiii! Hehe! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, and you've never failed to encourage and motivate me in my writing! I really appreciate it! Yeah, the ending for the previous chapter was sad, wasn't it, but I felt that it needed to be done. This story has a happy ending, though, as promised, and I hope you've enjoyed it!

Team Wallflower: Hi there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing my story! Hope you've enjoyed the ending!

Quams: Hello! Thank you so much for reading and leaving wonderful comments! I'm flattered you think so! I hope I haven't sent you on such a tiring emotional roller coaster ride, and I haven't killed you with that ending for part 3, have I? LOL! Unfortunately—or fortunately, however you look at it—this last update signals the end of the story, but I hope that I haven't left you disappointed! Cheers!

SamEvans17: Hi there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I'm glad you've enjoyed the previous chapter! As promised, of course this story has a happy ending! I hope you're not disappointed :D

xoBrucas4life86ox: Hello there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate your time in leaving wonderful comments! It made my day! I'm glad you liked how the angst played out in the last chapter, and in all honesty, I didn't mean to make you cry, I swear! I love Fabrevans with all my heart, and I think they deserve something good, so I just hope I'm contributing right in that aspect :D Cheers! Hopefully you've enjoyed the ending!

Nicole: Hi there! LOL! You've got quite a colorful personality! Thank you so much for going through all that trouble with typing on the phone—I know how much of a bitch that can be—and leaving a nice, lengthy review! Well, after all the drama Mike had put Sam and Quinn through, he's actually a good guy. I mean, at least he doesn't try and steal her away, right? Hehe! Anyway, I didn't mean to upset anybody with the ending on the previous chapter. I just thought it had to be done in order to get the plotline moving, and you know, it's like giving Quinn a wake-up call. Snap her out of her bubble and ask her to open her eyes to what's right in front of her. Well, either way, I hope you've enjoyed the ending to this story! It's a happy one, so I presume it'll be fine, right? Okay, maybe I'm just that ancient or something, but what's a T-Score? Are you sitting for PSLE? Or O-Levels? LOL! Don't worry; I was shit with my exams too. I'm sure you'll turn out fine :D

Ashley: Hello! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! As you've read, yes, this is a happy ending! Whee! I hope you've enjoyed it! Fabrevans Forever!

RobOverstreet: Hi there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! LOL! I hope I didn't ruin your health with the troubles I've given to your heart from the previous chapter! Well, so it's a happy ending for Sam and Quinn, and obviously a wonderful beginning to a beautiful relationship!

Libro abierto: Thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!