Sam folded his arms and leaned against the frame of the living room's entrance. The pulsing agitation in his head was growing worse; he knew he needed to calm himself down before he gave himself a tension migraine—something he was easily prone to doing, following his surgery.

"What do you want, Janelle?"

She crossed her legs and mocked his folded arms, "Now that's not a way to greet me."

He ground his teeth, "You're free to leave since I didn't want you in here to begin with."

Janelle rolled her blue-green eyes and huffed, "Look…I didn't come here to fight with you, believe it or not."

"As much as I'd like to believe you…"

"Alright for two seconds, could you pull your head out of whatever ass-like place you've got it in and just listen to me? No interruptions?"

Sam pursed his lips. He didn't know why he was agreeing to anything she wanted; probably because once upon a time, they did have something nice and loving between them but it was hard to see past the fog of tense memories.

"Look..." she started again and puffed her chest with a deep breath. "I don't like what's happened to us. I mean you and me…everyone thought we were the 'it' couple that should have been but didn't happen until after graduation."

Unable to help himself, Sam cocked a brow at her. Is she gearing up to reconcile and ask me back? He felt with certainty that the answer to this thought was 'yes'.

"We were good together once, Sammy." Her tone softened significantly. Sam recognized it as the tone of voice she would use to try and butter him up for something, like a new pair of shoes or a night out at Breadstix. "I don't see why we can't work this out and try again. I mean, I don't care if you wanna have kids right now or…I dunno—bungee jump off a bridge! Whatever you wanna do—I don't care, as long as you'll let me be there with you."

She stood up and sauntered slowly to Sam, tugging on his arms to unfold them. He let her do it, with an unchanged look of skepticism on his face. He cringed internally when her arms slithered around his middle. What she wasn't realizing was that he wasn't turning into putty in her attempts of persuasion.

"See but that's the problem with us, Janelle." Sam finally relaxed enough to break her interlocked fingers from around his torso and guide her hands back to her side. "I want things that you obviously don't; I should have realized that a long time ago so we could've stopped trying to pretend to be people we weren't. And you…you don't care! You just said so yourself that you don't care about my wants—"

"That's not what I mea—"

"Save it," he cut across curtly, taking a step back. "Maybe it's not what you meant right now but it's what you just said, and it's what you'd meant when we broke up. We should've ended this a long time ago. I mean I really don't know why you decided to come back now, but it doesn't matter."

Walking backwards, Sam made his way to the front door. His hand reached for the knob without taking his eyes off Janelle's pair. "I don't want you back, Janelle. I don't wanna hear from you anymore. You were right when you left when you said we're done, so you need to go so we can stay done."

Janelle balked at Sam, astonished by what she was hearing. Her sugary-sweet personality turned vicious in no time.

"Kiss my ass, Sam," she hissed, snatching her purse from the couch and stomping her way to the door. "You're a dick." Before walking completely out the door, she turned her head to cut Sam a look and muttered, "Karma's a bitch."

As he closed the door on her, he nonchalantly hollered, "Bye bye, Karma!"

Sighing a few seconds later, he went to the couch to have a seat and attempt at calming himself with some deep breaths. He knew nothing good would have come from allowing his ex in his home but he still took a chance. Now, his appetite was gone and his head was aching. He picked up his phone again, left the couch again and trekked upstairs to get some medicine. After taking a painkiller from his upstairs medicine cabinet, he went to his room to lie down. He sent out a mass text message to those closest to him, letting them know he was shutting his phone off 'til tomorrow morning. Once he hit 'send', he shut his eyes, set the phone on his nightstand and did his best to focus on deep breaths again. The painkiller didn't settle in immediately, but Sam found himself more tired than he realized; somehow, he had fallen asleep before his headache subsided.


She was standing in front of a full house on opening night, strutting across the stage while singing her solo number, "When You're Good to Mama". Unlike some of the other principal characters, she was to wear one costume for the entirety of the production—her black three-piece suit with a corset top in lieu of a blouse beneath the jacket. She felt confident in the sultry outfit; it, coupled with the sassy sweep of the music gave her swagger a boost. During the middle of the song, she plucked her chain from her jacket pocket and swung it in fast circle, all the while flawlessly belting out the lyrics.

"If you want my gravy, pepper my Ragu—spice it up for Mama, she'll get hot for you…"

Her hips moved in a slow circle before she pivoted to cross the stage again. Outwardly she was selling her character with as much conviction as possible, but inside she as over the moon that her solo was going well.

"So what's the one conclusion I could bring this number to? When you're good to Mamaaaa…"

Her arms were spread, adding a bit of drama to her finale, but before she could belt out the final four words to the song, a sharp pain suddenly shot through her pelvis, causing her to gasp. The sound from her mouth picked up on her microphone. The orchestra stopped playing, and when she looked down her eyes went wide. Her full figure physique was sporting a bulging baby bump. Panic filled her and when she looked up at the audience, everyone she looked at was whispering to their neighbor.

Mortified, Mercedes head turned to the side stage wings only to see her fellow cast mates whispering to one another as well. She couldn't move. As much as she was telling herself to get off the stage, her feet remained rooted. The desire to vanish was strong but another round of pain contracted at her pelvis—this time, causing her to clutch her belly and cry out.

Mercedes shot up to a sitting position with one hand flying over her mouth; she'd been shrieking aloud but immediately cut herself off. Her heart was racing, coinciding with her rapid breaths and though she knew better, she brought her other hand over her stomach anyway.

Her head turned to check the time on her alarm clock; she had been sleeping since her nap from the previous afternoon, and now the bright green numbers glared 5:03. Slowly, she lay back down and forced herself into a calmer state, but the images of her dream kept her awake for the rest of the early morning. It wasn't an ideal way for her to start her first day of work, but she did her best not to let it consume her thoughts for the day.

Eventually, she left her bed and showered and dressed in black leggings and a magenta peasant top. With all the time to kill before work, she took her time styling her hair and applying her make-up, and then thought of making breakfast. However, she still wasn't entirely knowledgeable on all the things she couldn't eat while pregnant, so she ceded to a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios and a banana. It took her all of give minutes to eat, so she wandered into the living room, stretched out on the couch and flipped on the television. Her eyes felt heavy but every time she closed them in an attempt to get more sleep, she saw more images of herself in her dream.

In the late morning, she heard movement from her parents upstairs. They made their way downstairs in their own time and greeted her with slightly surprised expressions.

"Are you okay, Baby?" asked her mom.

Mercedes nodded, "Didn't sleep very well is all."

Her mom frowned while her dad told her, "Well your mom and I have some errands to run today. We'll be back before dinner but our phones are on us if you need anything."

Mercedes cast them a closed-lipped smile and nodded again, "Okay."

"Good luck on your first day," her mom said with a smile.

"Thanks, Mom."

Not long after her parents left, she felt her stomach churn—a feeling that was quickly becoming familiar to her. With a good idea of where this was headed, she quickly got up and went directly to the bathroom. A couple minutes later, she was flushing the toilet and dragging herself back upstairs to brush her teeth again. So much for breakfast, she thought bitterly.

When she returned to the couch, she grabbed the remote and flipped through the channel guide, looking for a movie that would occupy her time until she had to leave. Ironically, she found that Juno had just started on one network. Rolling her eyes, she decided to watch it but couldn't help thinking this was some sort of humorless joke. But while she watched the movie, she couldn't help wondering why she hadn't considered adoption before. The scenes with Juno and her family made Mercedes think about the fact that she wasn't the only one who would be affected if she kept her baby. She would be making her parents grandparents by next summer; her brother would be an uncle …and where were she and the baby going to stay? Her room wasn't big enough for a crib and changing table, and if her parents were willing to convert her brother's room into a nursery, it would leave him without a place to call his own when he came home from college.

She hadn't discussed any of this with her parents yet, but it wasn't something she really wanted to delve into until she knew whether or not she was going to keep and raise the baby or not. If she were to keep and raise her baby, she knew she couldn't live at home for forever. Sure, there was a hefty amount of funds in her savings, but its initial purpose was for college. Even if she were to give the money a different agenda, it wasn't enough to afford her rent anywhere for very long, and the bulk of that would probably be spent on doctor's appointments and diapers before anything else.

The incessant ping-pong match of decisions to make was giving her a headache, and the movie didn't help, so she flipped off the television and closed her eyes. It was not a desire of hers to give herself yet another thing to think of, but the possibility of adoption would help her to eliminate the option of aborting the pregnancy—something that, deep down, she really did not want to do.


Sam's morning run was exceptionally long today. He didn't want to wear himself out but he wanted to burn off the groggy feeling that lingered from his painkiller he took the previous day. In addition, he hadn't quite shaken his frustration with the clinic call, followed by Janelle's impromptu visit.

As he reached his front door and shut off his iPod, he heard his neighbor, Quinn, greet him as per usual. "Hi, Sam!"

His hand raised and waved, "Hey Quinn. How are you?"

"Doing well today, and you?" she clipped a couple of yellow roses and walked over to the low fence that divided their homes.

Sam did the same while telling her, "I'm so-so. Had a lot on my mind but running was a nice way to alleviate things a bit."

Quinn nodded, "That's good to hear. Hey listen, I heard a bit of what's been going on with you lately. I just wanted you to know I'm praying for you and if there's anything Finn and I can do, let us know okay?" She raised her hand and handed him the two freshly clipped roses.

"Thanks Quinn," he replied, accepting the roses with his eyes on them. "They look nice by the way."

She smiled, "Thank you," and started to wander back to her flowers but stopped after two strides and looked back to Sam. "Oh, Sam do you have any plans for Halloween this year?"

He shrugged, "Just work. I wanted to get another storyboard laid out so Puck and I get another installment done before Christmas."

"Ahh I see. Well, consider taking a break for one night and come hang out with Finn and I. There's an English pub opening up next week and we're going to check it out for Halloween."

Sam squinted his eyes a fraction while thinking things over. He hadn't really gone for a night out very much since his cancer went into remission and his desire to go out and socialize hadn't really improved following his break-up last month. After returning his gaze to Quinn he said, "I'll think about it. Puck and I hired someone new to help us out so if we get some progress made before then, I'll see about coming. Thanks for the invite."

"Anytime," she replied with a small smile. "Congrats on your new hire by the way! Enjoy the rest of your day."

He nodded while toasting the two roses in the air and then turned to head inside. After dropping the roses in a tall drinking glass, showering, giving his stubbly goatee a clean shave and getting dressed, he went to one of the other bedrooms in his home, which he had converted into a work space, and started to get things ready. It was the second-biggest bedroom in the cozy home and also the furthest from his bedroom. In it, he had two desks with stacks of drawing paper, pencils of every variety and a plethora of pens that hosted different-sized tips. One wall was mostly made up of cork bulletin boards and the adjacent wall held posters and magazine cut-outs of famous comic and game heroes and villains whom he and Puck admired: Storm and Wolverine, Batman, Mario and Luigi with King Koopa, Iron Man, Captain America, Ken, Ryu, Chun-Li, Vega, Blanka and M. Bison; Green Lantern, Gambit, The Joker and Harley Quinn, Wonder Woman, Megatron and Optimus, Thor and Loki, Sonic the Hedgehog and Dr. Robotnik, Black Canary, Miss Marvel, Superman and Lex Luthor, Altair Ibn-L'Ahad and Ezio Auditore da Firenze, The Fantastic Four, Spiderman and Doc Ock, Max Payne, and a "Women of Marvel" calendar in the center that featured She-Hulk for October. The south wall hosted a window that peeked into the back yard.

As Sam straightened up a bit, the doorbell rang. He ditched the pile of papers in his hand and hurried out of the room to answer the door, half-expecting it to be Puck. But he smiled upon opening the door to see Mercedes on the other side. He couldn't help noticing that the color pink looked good on her.

"Hey, welcome!"

"Thanks!" she smiled back and he smiled a tad wider. "You didn't need me to bring anything, did you? I mean I have proof I'm a U.S. citizen and all that…"

"Nah—come in," he stepped aside, gesturing to the rest of the house. "I should've explained more in the park but I know you had to get going so I figure I'd tell you now." As he led her into the living to sit, he noticed her expression had gone wary. His hands came up as he sat down next to her, "It's nothing bad, or at least I hope it won't be for you. I was just going to explain how Puck and I get paid, and how you'll get paid."

She gave one slow nod, "Okay."

"Basically, Puck and I receive checks from Marvel for selling them our work. He and I negotiate with them whenever we have a new installment to Chronic Chameleon, or if we have an entirely new comic—which is what we're working on today. Then we'll receive a percentage of the funds made, which all depends on how well the comic's received once it hits the shelves."

"Ohh I see. So…how do the negotiations work? Like..do you guys say 'We want this much money for Volume 3' and they say 'yay' or 'nay'? Or…?"

Sam chuckled, "Something like that. Usually we summarize the events of the comic and then they shoot us a number, based on how much they like it or how well they think it'll sell. Then Puck and I can take the offer or try to persuade them into a higher offer. Usually we take what they offer though since it's pretty decent. So what I'll do is cash my checks when I get them and just write you a check right away and pay you like that if works for you. I mean…technically you wouldn't be getting paid through Marvel like us but in a way you sort of are."

Mercedes' smile returned, "That's fine. And I think I get the negotiation thing. So it's kinda like Shark Tank."

"What?"

"Shark Tank. You've never watched it?"

Sam shook his head, staring at her with a confused smile.

Her whole face lit up, "Oh you gotta watch it sometime! It's one of my favorite shows but it works a lot like how you guys bargain your comics. It's just that people pitch their inventions and ideas to 5 rich people—they're the sharks—and tell them their offer. Then the sharks can either put themselves out of further negotiations, or they can take the offer exactly as it is, orr they can turn the tables and give the inventor a new offer."

His brows rose a bit, "Wow. Sounds pretty interesting."

"It is. One of the sharks is the guy that owns the Dallas Mavericks. I can't think of his name…"

"Mark Cuban?"

"Yeah! Man he's slick, I swear! He's pissed off the other sharks so many times with how he does business on that show but it's kinda hilarious."

Sam chuckled again; he hadn't expected to break the ice in his home with her by talking reality T.V., but at least it was over a show that actually sounded worth watching and not the junk shows Janelle always watched. She drove him nuts with her Jersey Shore marathons. For a moment he and Mercedes went silent and just stared at one another but as the awkward silence began to descend upon them, the doorbell rang again.

"That must be Puck," said Sam as he stood again. He felt Mercedes' eyes on his back as he made his way to the door again.

"Cap!"

Sam grinned, "Tony! Aw and you brought Abbster!" Right away he reached for the little girl and lifted her high above his head. "Hey kiddo!"

"Yeah, Lauren's working all day today at the hospital."

Abby giggled profusely and reached for Sam's stringy bangs as he lowered her to his hip. He walked them back to the living room with Puck following behind. "I don't need to re-introduce you guys, do I?" he asked Mercedes.

She grinned, "Nope! Abby's hard to forget and I remember her dad. How's it going, Noah?"

Puck nodded 'hello' and slipped the diaper bag off his shoulder while telling her, "Doing alright. And now that we're working together, call me Puck."

"You got it," she replied, beaming her smile from him back to Abby. "So Lauren got the job at the hospital? I remember her telling me a little about it last time I babysat."

Puck wandered over to smooth down his daughter's hair, "Yeah she's kind of like…a nurse apprentice or something until she finishes nursing school."

"Hopefully they're thorough in their teaching," Sam muttered bitterly. Puck chuckled knowingly but he caught Mercedes arching a brow at him.

"Not a fan of doctors, huh?"

"Lately? No, not really."

"His opinion's bias though," replied Puck with a smirk.

"Yeah well, he's not alone in it—I hate them," Mercedes said with little humor in her voice.

Puck saw the near identical bitter looks on Sam and Mercedes' faces and he laughed, "Dang, you two must've had the doctors as kids that didn't give you lollipops when you were good for your shots."

Mercedes chuckled dryly, "I wish it were like that."

Sam arched a brow at her but before he could wonder aloud what her insinuation was about, Puck reminded them that they had work today and the three headed upstairs with Abby to get started together.


They spent a good four hours that afternoon—first showing Mercedes where everything in the office was, followed by a briefing of their new comic—a female-focused comic originated from Puck as a present for his daughter to one day enjoy. And finally, they dove into brainstorming and sketches of possible characters with a lunch break in between.

"Tell me again why you're not into comic books and stuff?" asked Sam. "For someone who's not, you're really good at this. Not just the drawing but coming up with ideas for them."

Mercedes smiled from behind the desk that was normally his, "I dunno. I told you my brother was always into comics and video games. I like seeing the movies sometimes but…" she shrugged, "I was more into Barbies than Transformers when I was growing up. I wish comics had more Black heroes and villains though."

Sam and Puck looked at each other and then to her. "What do you mean?" asked Puck.

Mercedes shrugged again, "That was something my brother would say a lot, and he still does. I remember him always wondering why there weren't more heroes and villains who looked like him. I know there's Blade, and they made that cartoon show about the guy who gets electricity powers."

"Static Shock?" questioned Sam.

"Yeah. I think so. But there's them and then they made Halle Berry play Catwoman but from what I heard, her version of Catwoman wasn't anything like the comics."

Sam gazed at her while wheels began to turn in his head. He was holding a sleeping Abby in his harms but when his fingers were lightly tapping her back as he thought.

Puck on the other hand, was leaning his chair back on two legs; he too was staring at Mercedes when he said to her, "Well let me enlighten you a little bit, Mercedes. There's not many non-white heroes and villains in comic books in general. But as far as Black ones go? You've named a few—Blade, Static, and I guess we could lump Catwoman in there even though you're talking about Halley Berry's Catwoman and not Eartha Kitt who came before her."

Mercedes' brows furrowed, looking utterly lost as Puck rambled on in schooling her.

"There's also Ororo, AKA: Storm from X-Men—also played by Ms. Berry in the movies, and if you haven't heard of Storm then you're a lost cause."

"Puck!"

He ignored Sam's scolding call of his name, "And there's also Green Lantern. His ring's been passed on to more than one human and at one point, one of them was Black. He's been portrayed in some cartoons as Black too. Then there's the ones you've probably never heard of—Vixen, Frenzy, Black Panther, Kingpin, Darwin who's Black and Mexican—"

"Latino," corrected Sam.

"Whatever. He's Black and Hispanic. So's Angel Salvadore."

Sam rolled his eyes; trying to get Puck to care about being slightly wrong while he's on a roll almost never happened.

"And you've got Orpheus, Bishop, Tombstone who's Albino, Falcon, Anansi the spider—"

"Okay, Stark, I think she gets it," pressed Sam, shaking his head and casting an apologetic look at Mercedes. "But Mercedes, I think we should loan you Volume 1 of Chronic Chameleons. You might end up liking it."

It was faint, but he noticed she was blushing—either from chagrin or something else, he couldn't be sure. He offered her a kind smile and wandered over to the corner opposite the door and knelt down in front of a box. After freeing one of his hands from around Abby, he reached inside and pulled out a thin comic book to hand to Mercedes.

She took it in her hands and looked at the cover. Across the top in holographic neon text was the title Chronic Chameleons, Volume 1! Below it featured five young adults dressed in regular street clothes—each one wielding power over an element. One of the two featured girls—an Asian girl with straight, choppy hair—had her hands cupped around an invisible orb but at its center was a ball of fire. Next to her was a guy with frizzy afro-like red hair who looked entirely covered in electrical waves; center of the group was a bald, olive-skinned male with a wind-blown Mohawk and miniature twisters swirling up to his biceps. To his right was the second girl who, to Mercedes pleasant surprise was a Black female with free-flowing braids and thin-rimmed glasses who seemed to have power over earth. The last one of the group was a green-eyed blond with water surrounding both fists.

Mercedes smirked and pointed to the guy in the center and the blond on the far right. "Are these two you guys?"

Sam smiled back, "Yeah. We changed their names though but..." he shrugged, "Give it a read in your free time and let us know what you think. Volume 2's out too and we just sent Volume 3 in for publishing so if you like it, there's more to read, and you'll probably get to help us create Volume 4."

She smiled a bit more and told the both of them, "Thank you" while keeping her eyes on Sam.

"My pleasure," he murmured back.

Puck was watching their exchange and his mischievous smirk crept back onto his face. He folded his arms across his chest, letting them stare at each other a bit longer before he interrupted with unnecessary loudness, "So!"

Sam and Mercedes jumped out of their skin and immediately looked to him.

"I think we're done for today." He looked to Mercedes, "Captain was right—you've got some skills." Standing up, he moved to extend a hand to her, "Welcome to the team."

Mercedes smiled and shook his hand back with a soft chuckle, "Thanks. It feels a little weird shaking your hand so formally like this but…thanks, Puck."

Puck looked to Sam and spoke to him as though Mercedes weren't there, "You know if she sticks it out with us she's gonna have to get a nickname."

Sam nodded and smiled again, "She seems pretty fond of Catwoman."

"But she's DC, right? Shouldn't it be a Marvel nickname?" asked Mercedes.

"Oh ho-ho, lookie here!" Puck grinned, "I thought you didn't know much about comics."

Mercedes rolled her eyes, "I told you've I seen some movies, didn't I?"

Sam and Puck looked to one another again and Puck lightly elbowed Sam, "Sassy. I like her even more than before."

Sam chuckled; he hadn't noticed his cheeks had turned a faint shade of pink, "Well…like Puck said, if you decide to stay, we'll get you a nickname. They're always fitting ones."

Puck moved to take his daughter out of Sam's hands and while he did, Sam said, "Oh, hey you two haven't already made plans for Halloween, right?" Mercedes shook her head which made Sam smirk and Puck shrugged a response. Sam explained, "I want to get the storyboard finished for Gladiator Girls."

"Working on Halloween? Man you're turning into an old man before my eyes!" Puck faked a sigh, "Alright, I'll be around. But I'm dressing up and you can't say crap about it."

Sam stared at Puck for a few seconds and then shook his head at him, "If it makes you feel better, Tony."

Puck reached up to tousle Sam's hair and headed for the door, "Later, bro."

"See ya," replied Sam. He glanced at Mercedes who looked amused by their exchange. "Puck," he said as though it were an explanation. "Gotta love him."

She chuckled, "I can see why it'd be hard not to. I didn't expect him to take off so suddenly—I was going to ask you guys something."

Sam's brows perked up, "Oh yeah? Well I can go grab him if you want; he probably hasn't gotten very far with Abbster in his arms.

Mercedes shook her head, "It's okay. I don't wanna burden him when he's got Abby to take care of. But I'm in the musical at McKinley and the arts department is dividing the proceeds from ticket and refreshment sales amongst the Glee club and the Jazz band. I was wondering if you guys wanted to come see it."

"Which one are you in?" asked Sam.

"Huh?"

"I mean are you in Glee club or Jazz band?"

"Oh!" Mercedes smiled again, "Glee club. I'm actually captain right now."

Sam grinned, "Really? That's crazy—I was in Glee club when I went there."

"Are you serious?" she laughed softly, "I'm gonna have to go back through the old yearbooks and see!"

Sam chuckled nervously, "Please don't."

Mercedes brows rose, "Why not? I bet you were cute back then."

"Back then? I'm hurt," he joked. "How old do you think I am?"

"Well…old enough for me not to remember seeing you around campus while I've been there."

He laughed again, "Ouch. I'm not that old, Mercedes."

"Do tell, Sam," she sassed.

Whether it was her sassy humor or the way she said his name, he wasn't sure but he found himself slipping into another layer of attraction towards her. Unashamed of his age he said, "I'm 23. Class of 2007 with Puck and our friend Finn."

The amusement on Mercedes face turned to shock, "Finn Hudson?"

Sam's brows furrowed but the smile hadn't left his face, "Yeah, he's my neighbor now. You know him?"

"Sort of, yeah—his stepbrother's my best friend!"

"Kurt Hummel?"

"That's the one," she replied. "Wow, small world huh?"

"I'll say."

Again, they lapsed into silent gazes until Mercedes told him, "Well you're right. 23's not that old. And I'd say you're pretty grounded being so young. A good job, a house, a girlfriend—"

"A girlfriend?"

"Yeah. Wasn't that you girlfriend with you at the clinic?"

Confusion crossed Sam's face but left just as quickly, "Ohh, no no that wasn't my girlfriend."

"Oh…" Mercedes now appeared to be the confused one but she shook her head, "Well anyway, you seem to be doing really and I think that's pretty off the hook."

Sam smiled, "Thanks for saying so."

She nodded. "So…can I expect to see you on opening night? Opening night's the week before Thanksgiving and the musical this year's Chicago. Kurt and I are both in it. I'm playing Mama Morton and he's playing Billy Flynn."

For a second, Sam tried to think if he had any mandatory plans that week. He could think of none—mostly because he was incredibly interested in knowing what Mercedes voice sounded like in song. Casting a crooked smile at her, he said, "Consider me there."


Please leave reviews! Sorry this was so long but I hope you enjoyed it! What do you think so far? Any predictions on events coming down the road? I apologize for any errors; most of this got typed early this morning while I was running on about 3 hours of sleep. More is coming soon! I promise more interaction between Sam and Mercedes VERY soon, plus Mercedes' decision and the reveal of what Rachel plans to do with the information she acquired.