And here we are at Chapter 10! Just want to say a quick thanks to whoever is still reading this thing, it means a lot that you haven't given up on it yet! :P

There was quite a bit of action in the last chapter, with Quinn ending things and running off to Nashville. This chapter's kind of a filler - but you'll get to see how Tina, Mike, and Santana are dealing with things. Even though this is only a filler type of chapter, I still quite like it. It reminds me of the prologue, where we saw both Sam and Quinn's perspectives - hopefully I pulled it off in this chapter, too! :P

Anyway, please read and enjoy and leave a little review at the end. :) I'd really appreciate it!

Also, I don't own Glee or its characters, duh. If I did, Sam would've been fighting to save Quinn during the school shooting. :)

Chapter 10: Scared and Stupid

"Well, it sounds like you're settling in great, sweetie. I'll call you later and I'll see you next week, okay?" Tina paused. "Alright, bye, take care, love you!" she hung up the phone and sighed, closing her eyes and pressing her fingers to her temple. She could feel the knots in her shoulder and across her back; she could practically her own pulse pumping through her body.

"Hey, you,"

Mike's voice fell over her like a warm blanket and she turned, a smile immediately forming on her lips. She whispered a greeting to him breathlessly, before allowing him to wrap her into his arms. She molded perfectly to his body and Tina breathed him in, thanking whoever it was that decided to walk him into her life. The past week had been chaotic, with the media frenzy refusing to die down. Quinn had the luxury of being in a different state and Sam had the luxury of locking himself away from the world, but Mike, Santana, and Tina had exhausted themselves trying to keep up with the media frenzy.

"How's Quinn?" Mike asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

"She's great. She loves Nashville, says she's got a real handle on farm life out there," Tina wrinkled her nose. "If you ask me, I can't really imagine Quinn Fabray giving up her weekly manicures and blowouts for stables and hay,"

"Well, to each their own," Mike shrugged. "I haven't found him, by the way," he added, after a beat of silence passed between them.

"Mike Chang, he has to be in this house somewhere," Tina deadpanned. "I mean, I know it's a mansion, but it's not that big,"

"Alright, so I've only checked the upstairs. He's not in the studio, though – the red light isn't on," he shrugged, leading Tina out of the kitchen and towards the basement. "I don't know why we have to check up on him, anyway. He's a big boy; he's obviously handling it the way he wants to,"

"He's your client. More importantly, he's your best friend and we haven't heard from him since…since she left," Tina breathed out shakily. It wasn't like she was afraid to use Quinn's name, but using it in Sam's house suddenly felt taboo after everything that had happened. "All he knows is that the story broke and that she's safely in Nashville. He's avoiding calls, visits, and you've let it go on for too long," she scolded.

Mike rolled his eyes, stopping right outside a heavy oak door. Breathing in deeply, he willed himself to keep his anger in check. He knew what Sam must be feeling right now – abandoned, hurt, disappointed, and resigned. And despite the part of him that wanted to tell his best friend to snap out of it, he knew he had to be more tactical than that. "Alright, let's go," Mike sighed, pushing open the door and letting Tina step inside first.

The room was bright and sparkled from the light that streamed through the sliding doors, bouncing off the mirrored walls to create streaks that danced across the hardwood floors. All the gym equipment faced the glass doors, giving whoever was working out a breathtaking view of the grounds around the house. Right in the middle of it all, a breathless Sam Evans was making his way through a set of crunches – judging from the redness in his face, Tina guessed he had been at it for a while.

"Hey, Sam," she said softly, approaching him with care. Sam stopped in the middle of a sit up and looked up at her, blinking the sweat out of his eyes. His hair was plastered to his forehead in clumps, the sweat turning the blonde to an unrecognizable brown. After several seconds of silence, Sam grunted in response, before continuing his work out.

Mike sat on a bench, resting his elbows on his knees to lean forward. "Hey, we've got to talk, man,"

"About what?" Sam huffed, his voice gravelly and shaken.

"You know about what,"

"If you're referring to the fact that everybody's blaming me for this fake breakup of a fake relationship, then I've heard it. Keep walking," he didn't stop his crunches and for the briefest of moments, Tina found herself distracted by Sam's defined muscles – before quickly snapping out of it.

"Nobody's blaming you for anything. How would you even know? You haven't been out of the house in a week!" Mike scoffed.

"I have this amazing thing called the Internet,"

"Oh, will you both stop it?" Tina groaned, stepping in. "Sam, like it or not, you're going to have to crawl out of your hole some time. There's an album that needs producing, events that need attending, and I'm sorry, but a life that needs living," she pointed out, her temper flaring. "And you!" she whirled around to point a finger at Mike, who was shrunk back against the bench-press. "Shame on you for being angry at your best friend when he's clearly in pain! Both of you need to get a grip,"

Silence filled the room and Sam stopped doing his sit-ups, instead coming to rest on his knees. "Alright, fine. I'll…live," he shrugged unenthusiastically.

Still, it was the best Tina would wrangle out of him. "Good! Now, first things first. You need to get back out there. Maybe Santana could set up another night out with Sugar?" Tina suggested, wincing as the words came out of her mouth – even she knew an idea like that would end in disaster.

"Sam needs to come clean about something first," Mike suddenly announced and his calm, even voice cut through the room. His stare was unwavering and Sam shifted uncomfortably.

"What?"

"He's been keeping a secret – something I don't even know about. At least, not with all the details," Mike got to his feet, folding his arms across his chest authoritatively. "And believe me, it'll all be easier with everything out in the open. There's a reason why you're hiding from the world after this breakup and as your manager – as your friend – I need to know what it is,"

"Mike, don't," Sam jumped up, running a hand through his damp hair. "Look, I'll get back into the studio and I'll go to all the events, but just…don't,"

Tina's gaze darted back and forth between the two men and she debated forcing them to just spit it out – hearing them talk in circles was making her mad. But she knew Mike had a point. Had it been any other girl, under any other circumstance, Sam would've bounced back easily. After all, it had just been a PR relationship and neither of them had been enthusiastic about it from the beginning. Quinn and Sam had made it perfectly clear they were doing it strictly for their careers.

'Unless something changed.'

The thought struck Tina amidst the haze of confusion that brewed in her mind and it was as if everything came to life – it made sense. Something had to have happened between Sam and Quinn to make it meaningful. Perhaps Tina had been too wrapped up in getting to know Mike, but her mind suddenly flashed back to their meeting with Santana – how heavy and tense and awkward it had been.

Meanwhile, Sam was busy gazing out the sliding doors, his face pensive with thought. The sun caught his handsome face perfectly, the rays dipping in and out of every curve of his muscles and Tina's heart nearly broke at the sadness that overtook his body. With a heavy sigh, he turned slowly, to face both of them, resignation etched across his face.

"I sort of…fell. For Quinn," Sam added, hesitating to choose his words correctly. "I don't know how it happened,"

Tina smirked, leaning back against the treadmill. 'Knew it,' she thought gleefully to herself. Beside her, Mike chuckled softly and took a step forward. "You told me you wanted to keep it going, that you wanted to get rid of the PR side of things, but keep her, right?" he asked.

Sam nodded. "It sounds selfish, but that's how I felt. Anyway, things just got…weird at the meeting and it was like I was frozen and I couldn't say anything," he shrugged. "And then, she suddenly goes and decides to end it – without talking to me first, without any explanation, she just up and walks out. It's frustrating," Sam shook his head, sending drops of sweat flying from the ends of his hair.

"Okay, but why does that bother you? If it was just supposed to be a PR thing, it wouldn't have fazed you one bit. What changed?" Tina asked, her voice soft and gentle.

Sam sucked in his breath and exhaled slowly, a war between telling the truth and brushing it off silently waging in his head. He lifted his head to look at both Mike and Tina and for the first time, he saw what the aftermath of their story had done to them. They were tired, he could tell by the dark circles under their eyes. Mike's fingers gripped his Blackberry tighter than usual and despite Tina's soft smile, there was a tension in her shoulders that seemed permanent. He hated what he was doing – not just to himself, but to his best friends, too.

"Sam?" Tina's small, meek voice prodded.

"We slept together,"

Sam's admission caused the whole room to fall silent for several minutes. Tina staggered back and sat herself down on the treadmill, while Mike's eyes widened. Just as Sam thought they had stopped breathing, Mike spoke first.

"How was it?"

Tina immediately stood up, reaching over to punch him in the shoulder. "Mike Chang!" she squealed.

Sam snorted, holding back a laugh. The tension in the room broke and he finally let out an even breath, feeling the weight that was on his shoulders start to fade. It felt good to tell Mike and Tina and he realized he had been keeping it bottled up for too long.

"You don't have to tell us anything, but…this is all making sense now!" Tina clapped her hands together gleefully, causing Sam to raise his eyebrows at her. The small Asian girl bounced towards him and threw her arms around his neck, trapping him in a fierce hug – despite the fact that he was sweaty and probably smelled gross. "Does this mean you're going to Nashville?" she asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"He's not going anywhere!" Mike leapt to his feet. "You can't just fly to Nashville on a whim, Sam. We're behind in production and we need to get you back into the single life,"

"Don't be ridiculous! If he wants to go to Nashville to win Quinn back, he can," Tina scoffed.

Sam's gaze darted between the two – his best friend turned manager, who had always had his best interests at heart, and Quinn's best friend – and he shook his head in disbelief. They still didn't understand it, how he was slowly fraying at the edges and losing grip over the control he once had on his career, not to mention his personal life. He stayed silent, watching Tina and Mike argue what Sam's next move should be, until he felt like he was going to snap in half. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself that they were just trying to do what was best for him.

"Thanks guys, for listening. If you don't mind, I'm going to grab a quick shower and then I'll be in the studio," Sam said curtly, squeezing in between Tina and Mike to exit the gym. He took a quick glance backwards and saw that they were both involved in a hushed conversation – with a scoff, Sam knew they were already planning contingency plans for whatever impulsive thing their client was going to do next.

And the thing was, Sam wasn't planning on acting on impulse. As much as he wanted to see Quinn, he was also hurt that she had taken the steps to end it without discussing anything with him first. He was hurt that she was so stubborn and in denial about what she felt for him, because Sam wasn't stupid – that night meant something to both of them. And he saw it in her eyes, at Santana's office, when she tearfully said she wanted out of the agreement. She was scared and vulnerable and building up her walls. And if he was being completely honest, he understood. Sam was terrified of laying everything out on the line with Quinn and just the thought of traveling to see her so he could explain himself was causing him to retreat back into his dark studio.

'I just need to let her go – for now, at least.'

Santana clicked her tongue, irritated at the mosquitos that buzzed around her bare legs. She adjusted the sunglasses on her face and watched intently at the little screen in front of her. On it, Quinn was having an intense argument with her co-star, a young girl who was already generating Oscar buzz from her last film. Suddenly, there was a loud gunshot and Santana smiled proudly when she saw Quinn's reaction to the sound on the monitor – it was real, emotional, and tugged at your heartstrings. If Santana was being completely honest, this was her favorite part of her job. Yelling at reporters and tabloids for printing inappropriate comments was fun, but she loved watching her clients in action – whether it was one of her athletes scoring a winning a touchdown or a singer winning an award or an actor nailing every take – it made her proud.

"What'd you think?" Quinn asked, running up to her publicist breathlessly, after the director had called it a wrap for the day.

"So good! You were great," Santana gave her client a one-armed hug, before they headed back to Quinn's trailer. "You're done for the day?" she asked.

"Believe me, this is a rare occurrence," Quinn giggled, quickly changing into her normal clothes. Helping Santana with her luggage, the girls piled into the waiting town car. Along the way, they caught up with each other's lives and as much as Santana wanted to scream and yank out Quinn's hair for being so nonchalant, she kept quiet about the Sam situation. Within half an hour, their car pulled up in front of the Hilton suites that Quinn called her temporary home and in just several minutes, they were lounging on the couch, lazily munching on a big bowl of microwave popcorn.

"Nashville's pretty," Santana remarked, gazing out the window to look at the illuminated city.

"I'm in love with it. LA's great, don't get me wrong. I'll always be a Cali girl. But there's something about Nashville that's…it's sort of magical," Quinn said, her voice melodic with warmth. A silence fell between them and Santana heard Quinn let out a long sigh, before she got up to grab two bottles of beer. "I know why you're here," Quinn said, after taking her first sip.

"Do you?" Santana asked, her dark brown eyes searching Quinn's face. Santana prided herself on knowing exactly what her client wanted and how they wanted to be presented to the world – but Quinn had always been the challenge. One minute she was outspoken and passionate, the next minute she was reserved and shy. The combination made her mysterious and private in the press, but it made her puzzling to those who knew her. "Why do you think I'm here?"

"To yell at me about the thing,"

"What thing?" Santana kept her voice innocent and her eyes wide – if she was going to get Quinn to confess to the lobotomy she clearly had, then she was going to do it right.

"Santana, stop,"

She took a deep breath, before turning to face Quinn head-on. "You mean the thing where you decided to duck out of the PR relationship? The thing where you made no hint to it before, so it took us all by surprise? The thing where you clearly made a decision all on your own, because our reaction pretty much said it all? The thing where you then just up and left, leaving the rest of us to deal with the aftermath? The thing that not only threw away all my hard work building the relationship up, but also Mike and Tina's hard work at making sure your hearts were safe?" Santana rattled off, getting to her feet. There was a fire blazing in her eyes now, the anger she had kept suppressed for a week finally coming to life. She raised her eyebrows at Quinn, expecting a response and when she didn't get one, she rolled her eyes in frustration.

After several seconds of silence, Quinn finally spoke. "Our hearts were never safe, Santana. And if Mike and Tina were supposed to make sure we didn't get hurt or attached or in trouble…then they clearly didn't succeed," Her voice was calm and even, but there was an edge in the way she held herself – perfectly poised and stiff.

"What?"

Quinn narrowed her eyes at her publicist, steeling her gaze until Santana shifted from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. "If you could've taken one second to focus on your clients instead of the press, maybe you would have realized," she spat.

"Crossing the line, Fabray," Santana warned, before taking several moments to compose herself. "And I would have realized what?"

"Exactly," Quinn scoffed, leaning back into the couch and crossing her arms. "You didn't pay attention,"

"Well then tell me so I can help you!" Santana cried, throwing her arms up in frustration. "Honestly, Quinn, you're talking in circles. Did something happen between you and Sam?"

The second Santana said his name; she saw Quinn's face change – what was once a steely, determined expression transformed into a weak quiver in her lips. She looked away, ducking her head to avoid Santana's wide eyes and her heartbeat quickened. It had been so long since she had heard his name, heard it tumbling off someone's lips and the sound of it, just that one syllable, sent her mind into overdrive. How was he? What was he doing right this minute? How was his album coming along? Did he miss her at all?

Amidst all the phone calls and text messages and voice mails she had received during the aftermath of the breakup, Quinn had still only received that one missed call from Sam. And since she was stubborn and stupid when it came to matters of the heart, she had let it go – he hadn't left a voicemail and she knew that he wouldn't. Instead, she kept herself immersed in the character she was playing, only to come back to her suite at night and search for new Google alerts concerning Sam Evans. Most of the time, she found nothing. He hadn't made any appearances and except for a fan sighting at his usual guitar store, Sam was virtually gone.

"Quinn…what happened?" Santana asked, her voice gentle and unassuming. Hesitantly, she settled herself next to Quinn, who had pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them tightly. "What did Sam do?"

Quinn blinked at her publicist, her eyebrows furrowed. "Sam didn't do anything," she said defensively. "Don't you get it? It's me,"

"Hey…" Santana reached out to her, before she jumped up and started ranting.

"It's me," she insisted. "I'm too afraid and scared to be vulnerable and I'm too stubborn and stupid to realize when something good and real is in front of me! I shut everybody out and I keep all of you at a safe distance because of what? Because I'm afraid of getting hurt?" Quinn cried, tears making tracks as they rolled down her cheeks. Santana's heart broke at the sight of one of her best friends losing control – for so long, Quinn had been the strongest link and seeing her crumble was unsettling.

"Everybody puts up walls," she replied feebly.

"I put up armors, San," Quinn took a deep breath, before exhaling and forcing herself to look at Santana in the eyes. "We slept together,"

Santana's eyes widened and her jaw fell, unsure of what to say next. The clock on the wall kept ticking and in the distance, the sound of the city buzzed. Around them, life moved on, but Santana was frozen – trying to come to terms with the idea of Sam and Quinn actually together.

"Santana?" Quinn's small, hesitant voice broke Santana out of her daydream.

"You and Sam?" she asked, earning a curt nod from her friend. "Wait a second…what happened after that?"

Quinn groaned and flopped herself back down on the couch. "I ran," she sighed. "Like, I just…I really blew it, San. He was sweet and he wanted me, all of me, the bad parts and all, but I got scared…"

"And stupid," Santana finished. "And then without even talking it out, you went and made the decision to end things because it was easier to run than to deal with your feelings,"

"Exactly," Quinn nodded.

"Why don't you want to admit you care about him?"

She hesitated, unsure of how to respond. "I guess…I guess if I admit it, it's true. I made such a big show of not falling for someone in the business and he's…he was everything I hated about Hollywood. Arrogant, cocky, entitled. And now here I am, just like every other girl he's played before," Quinn sniffed, resting her chin in the palm of her hand.

"You're not like every other girl, Q," Santana pressed. "But you did hurt him, so…"

"So I blew it,"

"Stop. You did not blow anything, okay? Sam forgives – it's his best quality and believe me, with all the stuff I've made him do over the years, it's my favorite quality, too," Santana giggled. "You can't ignore that you hurt him, though. You just have to own up to that,"

"What if I can't?"

"You'll have to,"