The last few weeks had been particularly hard for Mercedes, but she was very good at pretending to be okay. Her family didn't buy it, but they didn't push either. She hadn't seen Sam since she left his house, and though the Evans has finally moved in across the street, she still couldn't bring herself to really let go. Therapy was met with her telling Megan what she wanted to hear but not really saying what she was feeling, fear. She was scared all the time. She saw River in her sleep, felt him in her soul, and though the mark on her hand started to fade, it was still there. Still letting her know that she belonged to him whether she wanted to or not.

The raid went down, and they were able to arrest some big names and save some of the workers. However, mistress Rose, Master River, and Master Jericho were still at large. Mercedes felt like a failure like she went through all that for nothing. And that thought alone made her sick to her stomach.

While she kept to herself, today seemed like it wasn't going to be that day. Sylvie had asked her to take some paperwork over to the Evans. Mercedes didn't want to be near them, it hurt too much, but after everything that Sylvie has done for her, she forced a smile and took the file. Then, walking over, she knocked on the door and forced another smile as Mary came out carrying her purse.

"Mercedes, how are you, sweetheart."

Mercedes gave an unconvincing smile. "I am okay; Sylvie wanted me to bring this to you."

Mary glanced at it and smiled knowingly. "Oh yes, thank you, I am actually on my way out, is there any way you can put that on Dwight's desk for me."

Mercedes frowned. "I can-"

"Thank you, it's the second door on the left past the kitchen. Can't miss it. Thanks again, sweetie."

Mary walked towards her car, and Mercedes sighed, walking into the house. As she found the door Mary was talking about, she walked and froze, coming face to face with Sam. This was a setup.

Sam was curled up in his bed. He rarely left his room. The room itself still had his suitcase in from the move, but nothing else. He had a rough few weeks. Every time he thought about texting Mercedes, that nasty voice in the back of his head told him that she didn't want him anymore. It told him that she deserved better and that he was too far gone to help her.

He barely ate (and would only honestly eat if Stacey sat with him and forced him to). Often times he'd just throw it up because the depression and anxiety were too much. He lost a decent amount of weight. He hated himself to the point of no longer wanting to exist. As terrible as the Elite was, at least he had a purpose there.

The door opened, and he groaned, pulling the covers up over his head. "I'm not hungry, mom," he whimpered.

She wanted to turn away, but she couldn't; his voice broke her down, she could feel the hurt, she could feel the pain. She swallowed hard, leaning against the door.

"It's not your mom..." She said softly,

"Mercy?" he asked, peeking his head out from under the covers. "Is... is that really you?"

She placed her hair behind her ears. She was confident when he saw her, he would be disgusted. She kept herself fully clothed with baggy items, no exposed skin, her hair tied close to her neck. She nodded. "Yes."

Sam stared at her for a few moments. "Hi." He didn't move.

She gave a soft smile. "Hi." She said. She missed him; she really did. Everything about him, but she left for a reason, and she had to remember that, and yet her feet wouldn't move. "How are you?"

Sam didn't smile. "Been better," he admitted softly.

She nodded. "I can see that." She looked at her hands. "I didn't mean to bother you."

"Are you real?"

That broke her and made her push her own trauma to the back to make sure he was okay. She closed her eyes before walking towards him and taking his hand. "I am."

Sam's hand trembled. "I... I d-didn't think I would see you again."

She bit her bottom lip. "I was trying to help you heal."

"Oh." Well, she did the exact opposite

She closed her eyes then opened them again, taking him in. "I was out of my mind, Sam, not thinking straight..."

"It's been weeks..."

"And I've been dealing with my own stuff Sam, you didn't need that."

"I needed you. But I d-d-don't wanna be selfish."

She stood, moving away from him. "Sam, I can't even focus on me; how can I help you? All I would do is bring you down, make you feel even worse."

Sam shook his head. 'Just your... presence."

She bit her bottom lip. "Sam, I am ..." She closed her eyes. "Are you eating? Are you taking care of yourself?" She knew he wasn't, but she hoped he would start.

Sam shrugged. "It's all relative."

"And what does that mean?"

"What does it matter?"

"Of course it matters." She said softly. "Everyone loves you; they need you."

He laughed bitterly. "I serve no purpose. I'm a drain."

"Sam..." She looked at him. "Sam, you have to know that you aren't a drain."

He sounded so defeated and broken. "I am. I suck everyone's energy and positivity away."

"Sam, I can't..." She ran her hands through her hair. She wanted to bang her head against the wall but thought against it. "Sam. You are being selfish. After everything that everyone has done for you...to talk about yourself like that..."

Sam fell silent. "So what? It doesn't matter. I'm still purposeless."

"It does matte! You matter! You are the only thing that matters to me!" She shook her head. "You matter."

Sam flinched and curled away. "You have a funny way of showing it."

"I have a funny way of showing it? Do you know what I did for you? What was done to me for you?" She turned away from him. This is why she wasn't ready to talk to him. She didn't want this fight.

Sam stared at her. "You left me," he whimpered.

"I have been going through so much, Sam, can't you understand that?" She asked quietly.

"Yes," he whispered. "But we were supposed to help each other."

"How can I help you like this?" She asked, looking at him. "How can I help you heal when I am so broken."

"We could be broken together.*

"Yeah, but now I need to heal, and how you need to heal, they are two different ways, Sam. I need...I need to forget, to feel something other than him and you don't...how can we help each other like that?" she said sadly.

"I don't know," he whispered.

She wiped her eyes. "I can't help you; I am not good enough for you."

"Stop it. Stop it!" he covered his ears.

"Why? Because you know it's the truth?!" She asked.

"Because you're lying, and I can't convince you otherwise.*

"How am I good enough for you, Sam? How am I supposed to be here for you? Tell me that?" She asked through her tears.

"Just sit here. Let me know you haven't given up on me... that you haven't given up on yourself.*

"I will never give up on you..." But she couldn't tell him she had already given up on herself.

Sam hesitated for a moment. "I haven't given up on you either." But it was clear he gave up on himself weeks prior.

She looked at the ground. "Sam, you need to eat. Please."

"Not hungry," he murmured.

She frowned. "Sam, you are hungry, but right now, you are just being stubborn."

"I'm not," he whispered.

She frowned. "Sam." She sighed, moving closer. All she really wanted was for him to be better, even if she didn't think she could be. "Sam, please."

Sam was shaking. Detoxing was hard on him.

She swallowed, looking at him. "Can I..Sam, can I hold you?"

Sam stared at her. "Yes... please," he pleaded.

Mercedes moved to him and pulled him into her arms. "I am sorry, Sam...so sorry."

Sam curled up in her arms. "It's okay. You're... here now." They were seriously contemplating putting him in an inpatient facility to help him. Still, They knew that would just make it worse.

She wrapped herself around him. "I got you, Sam."

Sam closed his eyes and slowly calmed down.

She didn't know why Sam made her feel this overwhelming feeling of calm, but he did.

Mercedes made Sam feel whole again. He nuzzled against her shoulder.

She kissed the top of his forehead. "I missed you so much," she whispered.

"I m-m-missed you too," he stammered.

Mercedes sighed. "I'm pretty messed up, Sam..." she sniffed. "I don't know- I don't want to bring you down anymore."

"You don't."

"Look at you, Sam; this is how bad things are with me..."

"No. This... this is without you."

She held him closer. "Sam..."

Sam snuggled close. "I m-missed you."

Mercedes sighed, realizing she had to be honest. "Sam... I'm ashamed of myself, I hate myself...I wanted...I wanted to die after my days with him, and you spent ten years. I'm pathetic."

Sam shook his head. "No... don't b-be."

"The things that happened I can't face, I just want to forget, and you, you are so strong. God Sam, you are strong, so strong."

Sam buried his head against her shoulder. "No..."

"No?" She asked

"No. You're strong."

She shook her head. "I cry every day, take 30-minute showers where all I do is scrub, that's not strong,"

"You're alive. That's strong."

She lifted his face to hers. "Because of you..."

Sam looked at her with tired and scared eyes. "I'm here b-because of you.*

She closed her eyes and put her forehead to his.

Sam was trembling again. "Need you.*

"Sam, when is the last time you ate, the last time you slept?" she asked.

"All I do is sleep."

"Then get up and go for a walk with me, Sam. I need you to start taking care of yourself," she said, pulling him with her.

Sam was shaky on his legs as he got out of bed. "Okay."

"We are going to the kitchen, okay? It's not that long of a walk." She said, holding him up.

Sam was weak. It was clear he stopped taking care of himself.

Mercedes helped him to a stool and smiled softly as she steadied him. "Pudding, Apple Sauce or Ice Cream?"

Sam was wobbly on the stool. "Don't care."

She sighed, taking a deep breath. She wanted to help Sam, but a part of her was dying inside too. She grabbed the ice cream and a spoon. Sitting next to him, she took a spoonful. "Open up."

Sam took a deep breath. Then, he opened his mouth, almost as if he was ordered to do that.

She gave him the spoonful and sighed. "I need you to take care of yourself, Sam. After this, we are giving you a shower."

"As you wish..." he whispered.

She frowned. "Stop...I am not your mistress ordering you around, Sam..."

Sam's eyes were so distant at that moment. "okay."

She gave him another spoonful, she could see that he was pulling away from her, and it hurt even if she did it first.

Sam closed his eyes. "I don't feel good."

She nodded, going to grab a water bottle. "Can you drink this... please."

Sam nodded and drank it slowly.

"Thank you." She said softly, running her hands through his hair.

Sam hummed happily at the positive touch.

Mercedes sighed. "You are probably dehydrated, Sam. And hungry. I..." She stopped for a moment. "will you let me take care of you?"

Sam hummed in response, nodding ever so slightly.

She closed her eyes. She could do this. Sam needed her, and in truth, she needed to take care of him.

Sam leaned against her. He was lost in his own head at that moment.

"Think you can drink some more?" she asked; half the bottom was gone, but he needed to finish the rest.

He nodded and drank a few more sips.

Mercedes smiled. "Thank you."

Sam hummed again.

"Do you think you can hold food down, or do you wanna shower first?"

"I d-don't care."

She nodded. He didn't seem to want the ice cream, so maybe a banana would work. Grabbing it, she broke a piece off. "Here, try this."

Sam gulped the banana.

After he finished, she looked at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Better..."

"Do you want another Banana, or are you ready for a shower?"

"Shower... please."

She nodded. "Come on." She helped him off the stool and to the bathroom in his room.

Sam nearly fell twice. He made it in and sat on the closed toilet. He felt dizzy.

Mercedes wouldn't let him fall; she wouldn't let him get hurt on her watch. She turned the water on and pulled her hair up into a messy bun. "Can I undress you, Sam?"

Sam nodded. It was like he fell into a dangerous headspace.

Mercedes bent down to him, she could see something lost in him, and it hurt her. "Sam, I need you to be here with me. Can you do that?"

Sam stared at her. "If that's what you want."

She closed her eyes. "Sam, who am I?"

Sam looked at her. "Mercedes."

She opened her eyes. "And where are we?"

"I... I don't know..."

She nodded. "Sam, look into my eyes. Be here with me..." She bit her lip. "Come back to me, Sam...please."

"Not Sam..." he whispered.

"What?" She asked softly.

"I am not Sam."