Just a note, for those of you who don't know… I don't write smut.

That's not to say that I can't or I don't know how, but to say as a personal choice, I do not write smut. So…

The Risk

Sam Evans entered high school at age sixteen. A couple of years before, he had gotten into a close-knit band with his long time friends, Rick Nelson and Hank Saunders. The three guys were together most of their time and they evolved, almost like one. The guys hated it when they had to leave Sam behind, because they were going to high school, and he wasn't. They were all the same age, but Sammy was simply not as good in school as they were, so he'd been held back a couple of times. Yet, they kept the band together, and they practiced every chance that they got. Their music was angry and gritty, even though for Sam's sake, they did make a few country songs… that was his world.

When his dad used to have time for family, the two would play songs together, but Dwight Evans began having to pull extra shifts at work and to work practically like a slave to make ends meet. "It's all this affirmative action," Dwight complained to Mary. "Decent people can't make a decent living, because business owners are forced to have to try to throw some color into the workplace."

Mary asked, "Well, when they do it, they at least find qualified coloreds, right? After they meet the kitchen, the conversation quickly died down. "Sammy, did you go to sleep at a decent hour. Seems like every time I woke up in the middle of the night, you were still moving about."

"You're not getting sleep still, Mom?" He asked, avoiding her question. He wasn't getting sleep, either. He was going through some serious life changes. His friends were at a different school it and he was lonely, but at the same time, he was the oldest kid at his own school, which made him a target and an outcast. It made him insecure and offensive. He was acting out and acting out gave him a rush of adrenaline that made him want to continue pressing his limits.

Invincible is how he felt. Sam, Rick and Hank had been at the high school football game, jeering the opposing football team and drinking. Rick kept calling them "niggers" and grabbing his anatomy at them. Finally, one of the girls from Rick and Hank's school, Sheila spoke up. "You know, you can call them whatever you want, but obviously they're doing something right, because their team is kicking our ass."

"Who asked you, Skank?" Rick asked her. She rolled her eyes and her neck at him. Rick began to wave his hands in the air and say, "Oh, no, you guys! We'd better be careful, before Shaniqua gets her homies to ride on our asses!" Sam and Hank laughed at Rick's antics, and he continued on, pestering the girl. He asked her obnoxious questions and made ugly racist comments to her. Sheila glanced around at all of the other people around and saw that she was the only black person in the area. No one spoke up and she knew that they heard this, even the adults. She tried to ignore him, yet again. "Shakeisha, I've got a little bit of change if you're willing to drop it like it's hot. That'd be more entertainment than this football game."

"I ain't no hoe!" She snapped at him, unable to resist responding.

"No one said you were a hoe," Sam told her. "Calm down."

"You don't tell me to calm down. Nobody told your friend to calm down when he spat out the 'N' word twenty times in five minutes or less, so you don't tell me to calm down when I defend my honor. Because I. Ain't. No. Hoe. And if I was Rick the Dick certainly wouldn't get anywhere near my stuff!"

Sam retorted, angry that she had the nerve to snap back at him, "Like Rick would really have anything to do with your fat, black ass anyway. You should feel honored that he even knows your damned name."

"My name is Sheila!" She yelled back. Now, someone had the nerve to tell the 'kids' to settle down. Sheila had a feeling that statement was mostly directed at her, and she was through with that. Why did she have to be the one in the wrong for defending herself against verbal terrorism.

"Your name is 'Nigger,'" Sam told her, as though it were a common fact. Sheila got up, crossed the bleachers and slapped him upside the side of his face with all of her might. Rick splashed her in the face with a slushie and laughed. Hank jumped up and grabbed her, as she tried to hit Rick, now.

"Hey, hey… guys… you're going too far," Hank said.

"No, you WENT too far, and you gon' get your ass kicked!" Sheila said, "You too, Sam Evans… you dumbass. You think you something because you're the oldest dude in junior high? You're an idiot. That's why your old ass is still in middle school!" Sam laughed and threw his slushie on her as well, splashing Hank, only a little.

Hank asked, "What the hell, Sam?" The girl in his hold was going completely crazy, by now and the game's security was on the way to escort all of the students out of the game. Hank drove away, with his two friends in the vehicle with him. "That was so uncalled for," he said.

"Oh, shut up, Hank. Like you weren't having fun," Rick complained.

Hank replied, "Well, it was fun until she really got upset and tried to smash Sam's face open with her palm. That was totally uncool, to hit her in the face with slushies."

"That's odd. I thought it was totally cool, to hit her with a slushie," Sam said and he and Rick laughed. Hank was not impressed, but Sam felt invincible.

By the time he made it into high school at sixteen, Rick was a junior, and Hank had transferred to Dalton, an all boys academy… and they hardly ever saw him anymore. Sam and Rick were pretty horrible guys, but when Sam met Jesse St. James, things went to all new levels. For one thing, Jesse didn't care for Rick, so he would always get Rick to do something embarrassing and degrading… which apparently had been going on for the past few years of Rick's high school career. But, Rick called Jesse a "friend."

"Why do you treat him like that?" Sam asked.

"Why do you care?" Jesse asked back.

"Because he's my friend. We've been friends since we were three years old."

"So… you never really had a choice," Jesse said and winked at some girls passing by, to which they fawned like he was Gaston, or some sh*t. Sam pursed his lips at the girls and shook his head. "Sam, Rick has no future. But you? You could go on to do great things. I mean, I know that you aren't the brightest crayon in the box, but you have heart and you have talent."

"Talent?" Sam repeated.

Jesse stopped walking and looked at the blond in front of him, "Sam Evans, I have no idea why you are so unsure of yourself. You are an attractive, white man in America. Things would be better for you if you had money or smarts, but talent and hear to a long way for people like you, as well." Sam had only just realized that he couldn't remember the last time that he had received a compliment. Jesse was rather good at flattering people and making them feel like they meant something… only to turn around and use them like pawns, with them so willing because their confidence had been boosted by his charming words.

Emma sat on top of her desk, laughing and talking with Sam. He was pretty funny, but she wished that he would not try to mask his insecurities and shame with entertainment. She watched him with Mercedes, all the time and that seemed to be the only time that he relaxed and comfortable. With Emma, she noticed that he appeared comfortable, but he seemed to be forcing it. He was acting comfortable. "Do I make you nervous?" She suddenly asked.

"No," he lied, looking her right in the eye. She couldn't tell if he was telling the truth or not, but it seemed like he was… and she just couldn't believe that such an innocent face could be so good at lying. Well, she could believe it, but it was still an incredible performance. "You do remind me of someone that I once knew," he said. "Someone who it makes me uncomfortable to think about. Maybe I'm accidentally projecting some of that."

"Might I ask who this person is?" She asked.

"Jesse St. James," he told her.

"Wow! That's quite an honor. Jesse St. James is one of Lima's hometown heroes. He's traveled all over the world to spread love and do good deeds. What makes you nervous about him?" She asked him, seriously.

"He wasn't like that, for real. I mean, he really did all those things, but let's face it… the money that Jesse St. James spent on charity efforts could have just been as easily thrown from a window without his family giving a damn. In comparison to what he had, the analogy of what he gave is like me giving a hobo my spare change. But, since in comparison to a lot of people, he gave so much to this relief fund or that economic crisis… he's known as a good person, when it reality he was far from it."

"You think that's how I am?" She wondered.

"I don't know that yet," he said and eyed her curiously. "But, there's something wrong with your getting booted out of the institution and never allowed to work in another one."

"When Mercedes' mom died, Mercedes inherited a very healthy insurance pay, but she wasn't able to get it until she was sixteen. That institution served as her home and would have tried to suck her dry. They didn't even tell her about the money, and when the girls broke out and found me… I had to try to help her fight to get what was hers. I took the girls in, here and fostered them. Before Mercedes' 17th birthday, she had her money and she had her mothers' old gift shop and she and her friends fixed it up and lived there. She tried to give me something to repay me, but the fact that I knew that those girls would be alright was payment enough."

"Tina, Quinn and Mercy have been on their own since they were sixteen? Don't the courts come to get them when that happens?"

"If they are noticed. I was fostering them, on paper – but they were capable and I was there to see to it that they were alright. But, it was Mercedes who took the initiative to actually start trying to motivate her friends to empower themselves, as well. If it weren't for her, Tina and Kurt might not have started their business, Shane might not have his community center, and you already know your story with her, though it is still incomplete."

He looked down at his journal and started sketching, "Do you think that she'll be a part of its completion?" He asked, unable to look at Emma while he did ask.

"I think that she wants to be, but she doesn't really know how to, and the only person who can teach her is you." Emma replied.

Sam looked up again and said, "Every time I've tried to show Mercy what she means to me, she withdraws and brushes me off."

"Maybe because what she means to you seems to be an ideal. How long have you been around for, now? Four months or so?"

"I read somewhere that a man knows within fifteen minutes if he wants to marry a woman," he said. "I mean, I'm not saying that I want to marry her…"

"Then why bring that up? This is what I mean, Sam. You send mixed messages."

"My messages are mixed, because I'm trying not to scare her and when I send the direct message, that's exactly what happens."

"Well, stop focusing so much on her and focus more on you. You are responsible for your life. Maybe once she sees that you have a handle on that, and she sees that after you have a handle on that, that you still want her in your established life, she will be more receptive to your direct messages. If by that time she is not, then you have your answer. Until then, get yourself together and try to have some fun."

Sam put on the thin long sleeve nude colored shirt and placed an oversized bandage on top of the swastika on his neck before putting on his April Showers Blessings t-shirt. The folks had been in and out of the shop all morning, since probably five or so, and now, he was making his way toward helping out before they went to the community center. Mercedes was struggling with a box that he quickly took off of her hands and went to the van with. "I didn't expect that to be so heavy," she admitted.

Becky came out with another box and Sam grabbed it, as well. Where the hell were all of the guys at? Becky had her hair in two pigtails with little pom-pom knockers on them and she had streamers hanging from the sides of her glasses. Sam noticed that all of the ladies had pom-poms in their hair or on their earrings, etc. "What's with the pom-poms?" He asked Becky.

"We are the POM girls, are we not?" She asked him and made a 'duh' face that caused Sam to chuckle.

Sunshine asked Sam, "Could you come to the delivery bay and help Lauren and I load the truck?"

"Sure," he said and the two of them went. She had these bracelets on that looked like pom-poms and Sam was just curious, "Is this your first April Showers thing?" he asked.

"It's my first one working there. I've been before, though. It's a lot of fun – especially the games. Last year, my friend and I sack raced and did the three legged race and I remember it being the most fun that I'd had in a long time."

Several truck stops and van stops later, the POM display was set up. Apparently, some places brought merchandise out to sell to the visitors of the festival, and all of the money went to charity and all of the leftover merchandise, as well. Mercedes had brought out a ton of discontinued items, stuff that had been on clearance or boxed up for a while and some donation pieces that she'd ordered for the sake of showcasing at ASB festival. She, Quinn and Santana were posted near their display and interacting with different attendees and contributors, so Sam probably wouldn't be able to see much of them.

Lauren was responsible for any runs that needed to be made and taking photos for the annual scrapbook. Sunshine was registering contributors for the charity of their choice – in case they had a certain cause they wanted their money to go towards and to send thank you cards for participating. Becky passed out the complimentary pom-poms that they gave to everyone who made a purchase or a donation through the Pieces of Mercy set up. Sam was simply posted up as muscle and back up, in case they needed another runner, but this entire event was quite amazing to him. He heard Mercedes laugh and turned to see her with this dude… and realized it was that SAME DUDE from the bar that night, on her birthday. Did she know this dude, or had he just happened to run into her again?

"You know that dude?" He asked Quinn as she unboxed more items to replace on a table of sold out merchandise. She glanced at Mercedes and the guy and nodded her head.

"One that Puck chased off a while back," she said. "His name was Anthony."

Sam stepped that way and Quinn grabbed his arm, "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to meet Anthony," he said.

"You mean, that as the most current default couple guy, you're going to go try to pull a Puck and run off any possible competition," she said and let him go. "I thought your feelings were deeper than that." Quinn continued unpacking her items and Sam stood still. He took a moment to think about Quinn's words. Would it be shallow of him to just try to get a feel for the guy? After all, when a woman flirted with him or talked to him, Mercy had a habit of kind of interjecting herself. He rolled his eyes at Quinn and proceeded.

"Mercy, you need any water or anything?" He asked when he came up to the two, mid-laughter and flirting.

"Lauren's supposed to be bringing me a raspberry lemonade!" She fussed and fanned herself with a stack of papers. Sam handed her a cloth from his back pocket and she wiped her beads of sweat. "Thanks, Sam," she said as he took it back, wiped his own and put it in his pocket. "So, what do you think, so far?"

"It's great. You having fun?" Sam asked and looked at Anthony, who appeared to be glaring at him.

"I was," Anthony admitted. "I'm gonna have to go, Mercedes. Maybe, I'll talk to you later."

"Ok, Anthony. Don't be a stranger, now." She gave him a hug, during which he kept his eyes focused on Sam and it occurred to Sam… he knows me from somewhere. It wasn't one of those territorial/win-the-girl stares. It was something more. And as he walked away, Sam suddenly felt an ominous discomfort.

"Who was that?" Sam asked, curiously.

"That's Coach Anthony Rashad. He's over the football program at McKinley."

"I think he recognized me," Sam said.

She looked worried and asked, "What did you do to him?"

"I don't know. He isn't on my list. Friend of a victim, maybe? You know any of his friends?"

"He's friends with Shane," she said with a shrug. "They do a football camp thing here every summer. Maybe that's it," she told him, hopefully. Sam patted her on the back and went to see if he could spot Anthony Rashad. When he did, he almost lost all of his wind. Seated at a booth labeled, Justice for Families of Victims of Hate Crimes was Matt. F*ck*ing. Rutherford, with a huge poster of different people displayed behind him… the Rutherford Family, Sam immediately recognized the gory images. He covered his mouth as the bile crept up, trying to come out.

Anthony was leaning over on the table, talking to Matt and Giselle was passing out fliers at the table. Sam turned quickly and began to rush back to Mercedes. Matt handed Anthony some fliers of his own, and he went in the direction that the POM display had been. "He's friends with Matt Rutherford," Sam said. "I have to go."

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"I don't know, but I have to get out of here. This is not the right time and this is not the right place for us to see each other," he told her.

"Here, take my keys," she told him and reached into her purse to get them. He took them and squeezed her hand. She leaned up and kissed him, quickly on the lips, telling him, "Be safe." He touched her face and took off.

Quinn approached, "What the hell just happened?"

"Sam saw Matt," she said.

"Oh my God, this is like the saddest thing ever!" Quinn said, crying, as they watched the television.

Tina shook her head and said, "They all deserve to die, even that young, smug bastard that wasn't even hard enough to actually kill anyone."

Mercedes stared out towards the television, listening to the news. "I can hardly believe that something like this would happen here, but after what happened to Shane… I'm not as surprised as I would have been a year ago." She shook her head.

Tina groaned, "If you could SEE this asshole, Cedes! He looks so pleased with himself – like this wasn't a family that he and his friends attacked. He has a tattoo of a burning cross on his damned back! I hope somebody sets that on fire."

Puck passed by the community room and asked, "Are you watching that Nazi trial coverage again? I guess it's billiards for me and Artie," he said and kept going. Tina had her arms locked around her knees. Mercedes had her hands in her lap and Quinn was wiping her eyes. They had been watching it for days, now. It seemed like this was the only news in Lima. They watched it all the way.

"Possibility of parole?" Tina cried out. I am SO sick of this! I bet if that was a white family, no one would get paroled."

Mercedes said, "Well, those other guys are going to be put to death, even the other seventeen year old, Rick, or whatever. At least one of them is gonna have a chance to change."

Tina opened her mouth to fuss, but Quinn shook her head at the girl and, instead said, "Mercedes, sometimes –I'm glad that you can't see the things that we have to see. That your mind can't imagine these bodies that were so blatantly disregarded, and that you can't see all of the things we do to each other, and the silly things that make people differentiate. I don't think that your sweet, pure heart would be able to endure it."

"Maybe the reason that I have the heart I have is because I can't see, at least not in the way that you all do. I see things with non-biased eyesight. I have some reservations about a lot of things, but in the end, I think that a lot of you sighted folks suffer from that envisioned dilemma of judging books by their covers. If I want to judge a book, I HAVE to read the damned thing to even have any type of perspective."

"You could hear his comments on the stand. He acts like he hasn't done anything wrong!" Tina argued.

"That's what I mean. He's about to go to prison, Tina. Trust me, he'll have time and opportunity in there to see the err of his ways and when he gets out, he'll probably have just as hard a life as he did inside, IF he gets out. Possibility of parole doesn't mean that he'll get paroled," Mercedes said.

Quinn asked, "Did you have to do a special report in school on the law and prison system, because you do this every time we're watching Court TV."

"I tune into a lot of Court TV," Mercedes said, with a shrug.

Mercedes had been handing out fliers for Anthony for a while, when Kurt came up and snatched them from her, "Cedes! Who gave these to you?" he asked.

"Anthony did," she said. "They're for the families of victims of hate crime booth," she said.

"They're for putting Sam on blast," Kurt corrected, and tossed the stack in a nearby trash can. Quinn, Santana and Lauren had come near, while Tina, Blaine and Mike were a little ways away at the clothes drop off booth that The Magic Mirror was in charge of. Kurt shook his head and said, "I try to keep my cool, but then this happens." He marched over to the booth and slapped the fliers from Anthony's hands.

"Hey, Kurt! What's wrong with you, Man?" Anthony asked. Matt stood up and Giselle froze.

"Matt, I understand that you're still hurt and I can't imagine how hard it must be knowing that Sam Evans is a free man, but don't either of you ever use Mercedes' blindness to your advantage without her knowledge. She deserved to know what you handed her to pass out and she deserved to have the opportunity to tell you 'no,' Kurt fussed. Mercedes had gotten Kissy to lead her to Kurt and she looked confused about the exchange.

Matt simply replied, "We'll take that into consideration, Kurt. Thank you for pointing that out to me. It was unkind and we deserve to be called on it. Now, for the sake of this project and all of the lovely people of Lima who came to give and share, let's not allow this to ruin our purpose for being here." He sat down and gestured towards the fliers that had been knocked down.

Kurt stormed away, with Mercedes behind him, muttering, "Like that's just something to do!"

Tina, Quinn, Mike, Blaine, and Santana were hovered over a flier, and Sunshine and Lauren were looking at another one. Puck and Shane were approaching the group, just as Mercedes asked, "What the hell is going on, here?" Artie came rolling up and Joe even walked over to the cluster of friends, no longer paying much attention to their booths. "Can someone describe it to me?"

Blaine attempted, "Well, on the internet there are these photosets that they call memes. Uh, they have a theme and then people put words around them concerning the theme or the photo…"

Kurt waved a hand at him and shook his head, "You were handed fliers of a photo of Sam, calling him the Free Nazi." He snatched the flier from Tina, as Mercedes' mind tried to process what was just said. He began to read, "Killed five people… Only served seven years." He glanced the paper and said, "I kill black people, I'm free with the chance of a full life. You kill me, you're getting the needle…" He pushed it into Tina's hands covered held his forehead with both hands.

Tina and Santana looked at each other and simultaneously whispered, "It's true, though."

"The point isn't the flier, you guys. The point is that the flier was handed to Mercedes to pass out, and I'm relatively sure that Anthony Rashad knows that Mercedes knows Sam, personally. That was just low – to take advantage of her like that, because she can't see."

"Does it say anything else?" Mercedes asked.

"Yeah, there's several memes on the one page," Blaine said.

"Read them to me. All of them," she said.

They passed the paper to Blaine, who wondered how the hell he was elected to read it, but read away, "Killed five black people in cold blood… Served the same time as somebody who killed one dog. Killed a man while in prison… only held me back for another two years from parole. Released from prison in January… Probably killed a humanitarian in March…" Blaine stopped reading and looked at Kurt, who nodded his head. "Convicted for white supremacy crimes... Taken in by 'a nigger, a fag, a gook, a dike, a kike, and a slut.' Raped black girls in high school… sleeping with a willing one, today." Mercedes sobbed, but waved her head for Blaine to continue. "Told y'all my trial was a joke… Proved it when I got out." Mercedes snatched the flier now and wadded it up in her hands.

She could barely breathe and they tried to give her room, and give her a drink, but she just shook her head. "I'm going home," she said. Kiss Emma and Beiste, for me."

"Mercy, you shouldn't be alone, right now…" Puck started.

"Did you know?" she asked him. "Puck, did you say anything to them about any of my dealing with Sam?"

"How can you even ask me that, Merce?" he wondered. "People know his face. He was in national news and he came back to this town. They can see the two of you together. Everyone knows that you two are f*cking. It's obvious!"

"They are not, like that would be any of your business! And if they were, who are you to expose her like that?" Quinn fussed at him.

Puck fussed back, "You have been having sex with every guy that so much as looked at her to try to keep this pure, unfiltered view of her in your mind so that you could have someone to worship, and it's not fool-proof, Quinn."
"It worked on you!" She said.

"I guess we know who the 'slut' is on that flier," Puck said, awarding himself a slap from Quinn.

"Where is Beth?" Shane wondered. "You two need to stop before she sees you or some of the other kids do and they tell her. She's a small child. You two are adults! Get it together!" There was much fussing and commotion, until Kurt took Mercedes hand, signaled to Blaine and went to bring his friend home.

When they arrived at the shop, Sam was waiting for them, outside. Kurt had called him and told him the short story of what happened, and he was outside, from that point until they came. He helped her out of Kurt's car and guided her inside. She handed Sam the paper that had been clenched in her fists since before the ride home and he looked over it. "I'm sorry that you were pulled into this," he said.

"I wasn't. I made a choice." She fed the dogs and played with them for a while. Sam sat with her, watching her in her own thoughts, but not disturbing her. "I love the fact that you respect that sometimes, I just need to be left alone."

"I try to respect everything about you," he said, petting Clusterfrak, vigorously.

"Do you still have your blindfolds?" She wondered.

"Yes, I do. You want me to get them?" He asked. She nodded and he quickly rushed into the backroom to fetch his stuff. When he came back, she was standing by the elevator, waiting.

"They think that we've been having sex," she said.

"Don't worry about what they think. Let's just focus on what we think," he said and touched her hand.

"I think we should," she said as the elevator door opened to her apartment. Sam stepped off of the elevator behind her and watched her lock it. She turned to face him and asked, "Do you have on your blindfold?"

"No… um… you just said… are you just making a statement, or was that my cue to get started on that… what you suggested… or what you said you thought we should do. I don't know if it was a suggestion or just a random thought. You gotta be real specific when you're talking to me about something that serious."

"I intend to have sex with you, tonight. Right now," she said and headed for the bedroom. Sam followed, a little winded. He told her on her birthday a while back that whatever she wanted him for, he would be there – but this seemed out of nowhere and the wrong time and didn't Kurt once tell him that both parties had to agree that it was the right time for stuff?

Mercedes began to take off her clothes, and Sam just watched. "you, uh… You want me to put on this um.."

"I thought that you had it on already," she commented, reaching for her robe and covering her bra and panties with it.

"No, I was still in shock that you want to do this, especially after that flier."

"Sam, the people in my life are constantly treating me like a child. Every time something happens – 'oh, don't leave her by herself,' 'make sure she eats,' 'did you take your medicine?' For once, I want something to happen and when I get upset or angry or whatever the hell else, I want for somebody to treat me like a damned adult!"

"You've owned this place since you were sixteen and you've taken in people and helped others to be fully functional adults. I do see you and treat you as one. I just want to be sure that this is really what you want, and I would want to be sure of that if you weren't blind, because I love you…" he covered his mouth with his hand and was about to try to explain that away you've been there for me and helped me and you're a great friend etc…

"I love you too, Sam," she said. "And if you don't hurry up and put on that thing and get in this bed…"

"I'm in the process," he told her and began to wrap the blindfold around his face. "I'm glad that you had the idea for me to wear this." He said, slowly trying to find his way to the bed. When he bumped into it, he laid down and reached for her, "Where are you?" He asked.

Mercedes found her way into Sam's arms and told him, "I've never done this before and I have no idea where to start or what to do. But, I learn quickly and I'm good at memorizing details. So, just teach me what you want me to do, and show me what you like to do… and please, don't hurt me."

"I wouldn't," he said. "I told you, I just want you to be happy." Sam strummed his fingers across her skin as she reached for his shirt. He took a deep, nervous breath, but he let her remove it and as her hands rubbed across his chest and reached for his pants, he inhaled her neck and began to explore her body.

They could worry about Matt, the fliers, her friends, and anything else in the outside world tomorrow. Nothing was going to stop him from doing as she wished, right now...