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Standard disclaimer.

Staring out the window across from Sam's bed, I absently ran my finger along the bottom of my lip.

The swelling had gone down, but the cut just off the center, was still rough and the inside of my mouth was still tender, especially if I wasn't careful and ate something with irregular edges.

I couldn't stop messing with it, though. Sort of like when I had chickenpox as a kid, and couldn't stop scratching. Clearly, my self-control hadn't improved.

I didn't know what time it was, although I'd been awake for a while.

Sometime in the early morning, I guessed, since I couldn't make out the time on the nightstand clock. At some point, I needed to get my glasses replaced.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, they had been broken, when they'd hit the floor in...that apartment.

It has been four days, since I'd found that hidden door in my closet.

Four days, since I stumbled into a room, which reminded me, of something straight out of nightmares.

Four days of my stomach aching and my face throbbing, a painful reminder, of how close I'd come to not walking out of that room.

Four days filled with a lot of introspection.

I guessed, near-death experiences at the hands of a blossoming serial killer did that. It made you rethink a lot of your choices and plans.

Come to find out, Karofsky had tried to call me back, after I'd called him.

When he didn't hear me, he'd called Sam, to tell him that I hadn't answered, after returning my call.

Then, Sam tried calling me. He knew I would've answered, with everything going on.

So, he told Patrick where I had gone and then set off to find me.

Apparently, not wanting to miss his chance to talk to me, Patrick decided to come to my apartment, having no idea what he was walking into.

When he showed up, he found my front door unlocked, so he'd grabbed a crowbar from his car and made his way to my bedroom.

From there, he had heard Sam talking to Kip.

The rest was history.

Funny how one decision...the choice to start letting go, had literally been what had saved my life.

In more ways than the obvious, I was beginning to realize.

Kip had been taken to the hospital, for a minor head injury and then released into the custody of the county jail.

That's where he was now, and from what I'd been told, he hadn't confessed to anything.

But from what he'd said to me and all those horrific photos on his wall, there was enough evidence to charge him with multiple accounts of assault, plus, Stevie had explained, that Kip would most likely be charged with the disappearance of Kelly Winters, even though no body had been recovered.

I'd also been told, there was a good chance, that the district attorney would try to strike some kind of deal, if they could get Kip to tell them where Kelly was.

A few weeks ago that would've infuriated me.

How dare someone like him get a chance to receive a better sentencing...life in prison, versus a needle in the arm...when he'd done such terrible things?

He'd obviously murdered someone and terrorized innocent women, scared me and violated every definition of privacy. He deserved capital punishment.

But Kelly's family also deserved closure and she deserved to be found, to be laid to rest by her loved ones. And I was done with holding on to so much hate.

For the last six years, I'd let hatred and guilt shape me, in more ways than I ever realized.

I have nothing against those who seek lethal punishment, but for me, I just wanted to move on. To look towards a future, where a part of me wasn't wrapped up in hating someone.

Of course, I wanted to see Kip pay for his crimes, but I wouldn't stand in the way, if it meant they could locate that poor girl.

So yeah, I'd done a lot of thinking, about a lot of things these past four days. College. Painting. The bar. Sam. Patrick. And Kurt.

As corny as it sounded, I felt like I was finally waking up and getting a second chance.

The bed shifted and a hard body curled around me, a warm, bare chest against my back, and legs pressed against the backs of mine. And an arm carefully settled around my waist.

A second chance, when it came to a lot of things.

"Stop messing with your lip," Sam ordered, voice gruff from sleep. His hand flattened against my lower stomach.

My finger stilled.

"I'm not."

He chuckled softly, stirring the hair around my neck.

"Uh-huh. You been awake long?"

I lowered my hand to where his rested, placing mine atop his. His hand was so much larger than mine.

"A couple of hours, I think."

He didn't say anything for a long moment and then,

"Talk to me, baby."

Wiggling my fingers in between his, I held his hand. He had been great the last four days. Staying with me while I'd been checked over at the hospital. Talking my parents and brothers off the cliff, when they arrived.

Being there for me when I finally freaked out and had a wee mental breakdown, the night after the attack.

Distracting me when I closed my eyes and saw those photos of me...of us...because, those photos had been creepy and nothing like the portraits I'd done of him.

Oh man, nothing like that at all. He'd been my raft in a churning ocean, but I knew it hadn't been easy for him. None of this had been.

Easing onto my back, I turned my head and met Sam's gaze.

"I'm okay, honestly. Just been thinking." With my free hand, I reached up and placed my hand on his cheek. Stubble grazed my palm. "What about you?"

"Just woke up."

I would've rolled my eyes, if my right eye still didn't feel funky. I had one hell of a shiner.

"That's not what I meant."

He held my gaze for a moment and then closed his eyes. Under my palm, his jaw tensed, and concern pinged around inside me.

He hadn't really talked about himself during these four days. It had been the twenty-four-hour Mercedes channel.

I was about to straddle him and force him to speak, when he finally did.

"I saw that bastard yesterday."

I didn't have to guess who he was referring to.

"You went to the jail?" He had to work, since he'd taken time off when Kurt had passed away.

"I had to take someone in, and they had him in general lockup." His eyes opened and they were a bright, angry green. "I wanted to go into that cell and kick his fucking head in. I almost did. He was at the front of the cell, eyeballing me, and I was coming at him, about to grab him through the bars and knock his ass out, but one of the COs must've seen what I was about to do and stepped in."

"Got to say, I'm happy to hear that." I ran my thumb along the curve of his high cheekbone. "It would suck if you ended up in jail."

"Yeah, that could be problematic, but damn, baby, for a moment, whatever repercussion I faced, would've been worth it." His gaze drifted over my face. "Because, when I see you right now, I'm reminded of what the fucker did to you, what he wanted to do to you."

My breath hitched.

"Sam..."

"I know you're as okay as you can be. And I know you're going to be a hundred percent, because, you are strong Mercedes. I know that, but I think about what he'd been doing. The fact that he was there, when you and I were together." Fury laced his words, forming a bitter edge. "He was there when you were alone. The sick fuck got close to you. He touched you. It's going to take a little bit, for me to get passed the point, where I want to beat his face in."

I searched his eyes, afraid I'd find a shadow of guilt somewhere in there.

"You know there was nothing you could do, right? No one suspected that it was him, or that was how someone was getting into my place."

"I. Was. There. He stood in the fucking closet and watched us. All the training I've had, and I had no idea it was him."

Sam rolled onto his back, causing my fingers to slip off his cheek. He lifted his hands, scrubbing them over his face.

"Fuck, I didn't even remember his name."

My stomach twisted as I sat up, and I ignored the twinge of pain just below my ribs.

I reached out, grabbing his wrists. I tried to pull his hands away from his face, but he resisted.

Not to be deterred, I let go and yanked the comforter off him.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked. His voice was muffled behind his hands.

I swung one leg over his narrow hips and then straddled him.

Grabbing his wrists, I yanked on his arms again. This time, he let me pull them away. He arched a brow at me, as his gaze dipped.

"Have I ever told you, how much I like it, when you wear my shirts and nothing else?"

I ignored that, because, as crazy as it sounded, I thought his eyes held a certain sheen to them, as I stared down at him. And that made my heart ache something fierce, because, I didn't want him to take on the heavy weight of responsibility, for someone else's actions. That wasn't fair, and it hurt to watch him carry that.

It struck me then, like being hit by a ton of flying monkeys...flying monkey asses, actually, that piercing pain in the chest, must've become something all too familiar to my parents, after watching me blame myself, for what happened to Kurt.

Yeah, what was going on with Kip was totally different, but in a way, it was still the same, and it had to be what Sam felt, when he heard me talk about the way I felt.

What a hell of a wake-up call.

"None of this was your fault," I told him. "Please tell me you understand that, because I cannot deal with you blaming yourself, when you had nothing to do with this."

His brows furrowed together.

"You were hurt...you are hurt."

"But you didn't hurt me. You saved me. So did Patrick."

The last words, were something I never thought I'd ever utter in my entire life.

"And you've been here for me. You've been there for me, when Kurt passed away and before that. And if I'd given you the chance, you would've been there for me a hell of a lot longer." Tears pricked at my eyes, stinging my right one. "You did what you needed to do, Sam."

A moment passed and then he exhaled roughly.

Slipping his hands free from mine, he cupped my cheeks, drawing my face down to his.

"I'm going to be real with you, Mercedes. I would not know what to do, if something happened to you," he said, his voice thick. "The very thought of losing you kills me. And knowing how close I came to doing just that, isn't something I can easily forget."

"I know," I whispered, blinking back tears.

He let out another raw, shaky-sounding breath.

"But I'm going to try, because, that's what I asked you to do with everything, and I know that's what you're going to do."

My smile was wobbly but wide and then he lifted his head off the pillow, kissing me gently, mindful of the cut in my lip.

"I love you," he said against my mouth, his words barely above a whisper, but packing an emotional punch. "Baby, I love you."

I could spend the rest of my life, hearing those words, over and over again, and never grow tired of hearing them.

Not only that, I wanted to feel them. I wanted to be wrapped around Sam, until we didn't know where each of us began or ended.

Kissing him softly, I shifted, so I was able to slide one hand down his bare, hard stomach.

When I reached the band on his sleep pants, he pulled his head back, resting against the pillow, as he stared up at me.

His cheeks heightened in color, as I held his gaze and glided my hand under the band. Unsurprisingly, he was already hard, when I wrapped my fingers around him.

A deep sound came from the back of Sam's throat and his eyes remained latched to mine, as I worked my hand over him.

Just touching him like this, made me damp and achy between the thighs. It had never been like that with anyone else and I knew there would never be anyone else.

Sam was it for me.

As I was for him.

One hand found its way up my borrowed shirt, settling on my hip. But concern clouded the arousal building in his eyes.

"Do you think...?"

"I think it's the smartest idea ever," I cut him off.

His hips rose slightly.

"I want you, baby. I always want you, but we don't have to do this right now. We've got time. Lots of time." His eyes glimmered, as I got his bottoms down, exposing him. "And you also had those toys, I'm so going to break out one of these days."

The idea of him using those on me, made me all kinds of happy, but unless he had a vibrator stashed somewhere, that fantasy would have to be lived out, on a different day.

"I want to do this. A lot," I said.

His lips parted.

"Mercedes..."

I cupped him, as I squeezed his hard length.

"Fuck," he grunted out, kicking his head back. "Okay. Perfect idea. Completely. One hundred percent behind whatever you want to do."

I giggled, but that sound died in a moan, as his hand traveled to my breast.

And it wasn't long, before my undies ended up off, with the shirt lying on the bed next to us and we, intimately joined together.

With his hands on my hips and mine pressed against his chest, Sam let me set the pace and we took our time.

This wasn't about screwing each other's brains out, or doing so, just to get off. No. This was all about showing each other how we felt and there was something restorative in that...it was beautiful and consuming as we moved together.

There was no rush. Just that moment. And when the building pleasure finally peaked, he was right there with me, our bodies shattering and coming back together.

I didn't move afterwards, sprawled out on top of him, my good cheek resting on his chest, while he toyed with my hair.

"What happened to the streak in your hair?" he asked.

"What?" I was feeling way too lazy and sated, to think about his question.

"The purple streak. It's gone."

I laughed, because, the way he said it, made it sound like it took some kind of voodoo magic, to make that happen.

"It faded out."

"Huh." He continued to play with my hair and I liked that. "You should do the pink again."

"The pink?" I frowned. "I haven't had the pink for like almost a year."

"I know, but I liked it. It was you."

My frown turned into a grin. He remembered I had a pink streak that long ago? God, I loved this man. For realsies.

"Well, maybe I'll go pink next time."

"Well, maybe you should," he teased.

"Bossy," I murmured, still grinning.

We lay there for a few minutes, my mind wandering, over all the things I'd been thinking about. And I was ready to give voice to one of those thoughts.

"I've been thinking."

Sam's hand dropped to my back.

"Should I be worried?" he asked.

"Maybe?" I laughed softly. "It's about what I want to do with my future."

He started to rub a slow circle along my lower back.

"Okay. What do you want to do?"

For some bizarre reason, it was much easier to say this, than I thought it would be, while lying on him naked. Odd.

"I was thinking about...maybe stepping back from classes. I mean, I know getting a degree is smart, but it's not my passion. Not right now. And college will always be there, but you know, if I learned anything from everything that has happened, who knows what tomorrow, or next week will bring. I don't want to live my life, doing something I honestly don't care about. Maybe that will change one day."

"You don't need to convince me, baby." He kept moving his hand, and I wanted to arch my back like a cat. "I think it's a great idea. It will give you more time to paint and to work on web design, if you still want to do that."

"I do." My stomach dipped with excitement. "I like doing them, and I can keep working at Marcy's." I paused, lifting my head so I could see his face. "You don't think it makes me...I don't know, a loser for dropping out of college?"

His eyes narrowed.

"First off, you're not dropping out. You're stepping away for a while. Maybe forever, but it's not like you're doing it, because, you can't cut it. Secondly, college isn't always the answer, babe. Choosing not to go down that route, doesn't make you a loser. I'd love to hear someone say that to you."

"Simmer down." I patted his chest, but secretly, I was super pleased.

I took a deep breath and, yeah, it felt lighter and better.

"I want to take painting seriously. Who knows? Maybe I could follow up on what Mom told me, about the art dealer in the city. She liked my stuff. I have more. I can give her more."

"As long as you don't give her any you've done of me."

Flushing, I rested my forehead against his chest and groaned.

"You suck."

He chuckled, as he looped his arms around my waist.

"Especially the ones you do of me naked. Yeah, I haven't forgotten that request."

I sighed.

"But seriously, I think it's a great thing," he said. When I lifted my head, he smiled up at me, tugging at my heart. "I'm proud of you."

"Really?" My voice squeaked.

He shook his head.

"Yes, really."

I opened my mouth to say something, but his cell went off, so I climbed off him, reclining on my side, as he sat up and grabbed his phone.

"Yo," he answered.

Based on the way he answered, I assumed it was not business.

Then, he twisted at his waist, glancing down at me, his gaze tracking over the length of my bare body.

The look on his face said, he wished he wasn't on the phone, but then, he turned away.

"Yeah. Okay," he finished.

"Is everything okay?" I asked when he hung up.

"It was Stevie." He frowned, as he placed his cell back on the nightstand. "He's outside. I'll be right back."

Before he swung his legs off the bed, he kissed my cheek and then my temple.

The act was both sweet and tender, and really made me want to flail around the room, like a broken ballet dancer.

Sam closed the door behind him and for a moment, I lay there, and then I grabbed my shirt, because, knowing my luck, I'd get caught naked in his bedroom.

Pulling the shirt over my head, I let it pool around me and then worked on getting all the huge knots out of my hair, while I resisted the urge to go out and see what Stevie was doing here.

I didn't have to resist for too long.

Less than five minutes later, Sam came back in, leaving the door open behind him. I grabbed for the comforter to cover my bare legs.

"Is Stevie still here?"

He stopped a few steps from the bed.

"No. He had to head back out."

"Okay." I cocked my head to the side, eyeing him closely. Something was definitely off about him. As he dragged his hand across his chest, I asked,

"Did something happen?"

He nodded.

"Yeah. Something did."

Now, I was starting to get anxious. A lead ball formed in my belly.

"What?"

"Kip's dead."

I blinked once and then twice.

"Come again?"

His throat worked.

"He was found dead in lockup this morning. A few hours ago, actually. Fucking bizarre..."

All I could do was stare at him.

"...the thing is, he choked himself with his shirt, by tying it to the bar and letting his weight drop. It's doable. But really unlikely, considering, he wasn't alone. Stevie said there were eight other guys in lockup."

I still hadn't found any words.

Sam shook his head slowly, as he stared over my shoulder.

"He left a suicide message, supposedly."

"Supposedly?" There. I could speak. Well, I could parrot Sam.

"He told one of the guys locked up with him, where Kelly Winters' body could be found, and then, according to the witnesses, he proceeded to hang himself. No one stopped him." He paused, confounded just like me. "There's a unit heading out there now, since the location is in our jurisdiction."

All right, I was bowled over by surprise.

"No one tried at all to stop him? They...eight people...just watched him choke himself to death, by tying his shirt around his neck and to the bars?"

"Yeah," he replied. "But here's the thing." He stepped closer to the bed. "News broke about him by Monday night, right? When we were in the hospital, it was on the evening news. Word got out fast, that he was suspected of assaulting all the other women and that he was incarcerated."

"Okay."

"Stevie told me, about a day and a half ago, a guy was brought in for robbing a liquor store. Strange situation. The dude walked in, grabbed a bottle of whiskey off the shelf and then sat outside and drank it. He sat there until the cops showed up. He was arrested and has been in jail. Still is. City cops say the guy they brought in has a history, but guess who he's also tied to."

I shook my head.

"Who?"

"Artie."

My eyes widened.

"Holy shit! Wasn't it Artie's cousin that was attacked?" When Sam nodded, it all started to come together. "Oh my God, do you guys think this guy was ordered by Artie to get arrested, then end up in the same jail to take out Kip?"

"Remember the guy who was threatening Marley, over the money her mom owed? He ended up with a bullet in his head, and we all know Artie is capable of it, especially, when someone has messed with someone in his family. Even more convenient, is the fact, the camera on the cell went down during the early-morning hours."

"So, one of the officers was in on it, too?"

"We've known for years, that Artie had people on the police force. God knows how much he paid this guy to do this and whoever messed with the camera. Probably more than enough, to take a man's life and risk getting caught. The department is launching an investigation into it."

"But no one has ever been able to pin anything on Artie. Ever. Like in the history of ever and ever."

"Yep."

I didn't know what to think or how to feel, when it came to discovering that Kip was dead.

That he'd either taken his own life or Artie had someone take him out. Either way, there would be no life in prison or deals being made.

If, what the guy in the cell was saying was true, Kelly's body would be found and that was the only light at the end of this messy tunnel.

I searched through my emotions for something, but I was kind of like...meh.

And didn't that make me the crappiest person ever? It wasn't that I didn't care. I just didn't want to waste any more time or energy, on that monster. I couldn't.

Sam sat on the bed, scrubbing his fingers through his hair. And I watched him in silence.

As he lowered his hand to his knee, he shook his head.

"Does it make me a shit person to say, I'm not too torn up about what just happened?" he asked.

Crawling over to him, I plopped down, so my knees were pressed against his legs.

"No, it doesn't...I mean..." Sighing, I raised my hands. "...you know, I could lie and say it sucks that someone died, but I'm not sure if that's the truth. And lying is a sin, right? I mean, is being glad someone's dead a sin? I really don't know. We need to find someone who's super familiar with the Bible or something."

His lips twitched.

"I bet Milton would know," I said.

He arched a brow.

"Milton? The old guy who's usually drunk at the bar?"

I nodded.

"Yep. He kind of knows everything. Actually, I bet San would know. She's another one, who kind of knows everything. It's weird. Oh!" I clapped my hands. "I never told you what she told me once about you."

Both brows flew up this time.

"Should I be worried?"

"No," I laughed. "She told me once, about two years ago, that I'd already met and fallen in love, with the person who I'd spend my entire life with. I didn't believe her, even when she said it was you."

His eyes widened.

"For real?"

"She did. And I didn't want to believe her, but I think I knew in the back of my mind, that she was right, because, I already knew you and I've loved you a lot longer, than even I wanted to admit."

He stared at me, a mixture of amusement and disbelief written across his face.

I grinned.

"She also told me once, she was drinking moonshine a relative brought her from the South and she ended up in the woods and talked to fairies all night. And then this other time, she told Noah, he'd already met the chick he was going to be with, and he looked like he wanted to run for the hills. So maybe that's just her M.O.? Wait! She also said..."

"Back to the you loving me part," Sam corralled me back in. "She really said that to you, years ago?"

"Yes, she did."

"Oh, babe." He leaned in, resting his forehead against mine, as he curved a hand around the back of my neck.

Then, he kissed me, and I melted like an ice cube in the sun.

"Santana really does have psychic powers."

Stay safe!