viii: Such a beautiful mess, that's breaking my skin. Well I'll hide all the bruises; I'll hide all the damage that's done. But I show how I'm feeling, until all the feeling has gone.

The morning comes like it does everyday; intrusively and loudly. Not that it means to be loud, it just seems to startle Sam into such a state of reality that everything comes crashing down around him. He's thought about it before – his dislike of the day, and craving for the night – but it's always strongest in the morning. Sam turns to the array of blonde hair beside him, still sleeping with her head buried in the pillow. He contemplates allowing her to sleep, maybe getting them some coffee and bagels across the road before making the treacherous trip to the Berrys. (Treacherous because his mind is dreading it, and his body almost refuses. Because they want their granddaughter, and they want their freedom. He feels guilty immediately after this comes into his mind.)

He's saved from making a decision as Quinn stirs lightly. It's good too, because he can't remember how she likes her coffee anymore, or what she'd prefer on a bagel – or if she even still eats them when she's upset like she used to. Sam doesn't even realise that he's watching her until her eyes are blinking blearily back at him, confusion marring her features. The reality slowly dawns on her, as he knows it so well, and the light in her eyes trickles out. She stretches languidly, him helplessly drawn to her way her body flexes as she does so. She's always been beautiful.

Sam shakes his head, afraid to jump out of bed as it is the morning. If one gets his meaning. Quinn doesn't seem bothered in the slightest though, as she no doubt knows from experience, and simply lies there for a second. He's surprised by how easy it is. He had expected there to be an awkward, uneasy air to their movements and words this morning. It's the opposite though – and it scares him a little. They're so seamlessly at ease with each other's presence, and furthermore, with the presence of each other's grief.

What is strangest, however, is that despite the small hiccough on his part – it's not sexual. Lying together in the bed, limbs still touching but not quite tangled, eyes glued to each other and breath mingling; it's nothing to do with desire or sex. It's comfort and friendship, something he and Quinn haven't received from each other in a long time.

(He always wondered if they rekindled, would things be like nothing ever happened. He's beginning to think it would – and these are thoughts he could definitely do without.)

She gets out of bed and peels off her dress carelessly, making him abruptly avert his eyes. Although it's only innocent, the fact that his fiancé is waiting for him at home puts Sam slightly uneasy with this. He glances up to find her with a white skirt, and about to put on a top. Something catches his eye though, and he grasps her arm to halt her actions.

"Quinn… what is that?" His tone is soft, but demanding. He's not playing games here, and she's going to answer him directly. There's an anger in his bones that he can't identify, nor can he pinpoint reasons for. He supposes he needs her to be on top of her game – or at least to the best of her ability, but this is off-the-wall incapable. Has she been beaten by someone? Has she been attacked? If Quinn is putting herself in a situation to be hurt, Sam needs to know. He gently runs his finger across the raw, red and jagged line that is engrained into her skin. There's more around it, but they're lighter, obviously older and having healed better. His hand lingers. His eyes move to hers then, and he doesn't doubt that she can see he's full of questions.

Quinn jerks away, pulling the top down roughly over her head. "It's none of your business." She turns to go to the bathroom, when he jumps off the bathroom and runs to stand in front of her.

"Oh no you don't. You think it's not my business? You are my business now, Q, and I'm yours. In case you didn't notice, we're raising a child together." His voice raises as he bites out the last of his words, and with each syllable, Quinn's expression grows darker. He had hoped to appeal to the soft Quinn, who would break down and let him in, but this Quinn is the dangerous, infuriating one; stubborn, private Quinn.

She raises her chin stubbornly, "I'm well aware, thank you." The ice in her tone sends chills down his spine. "But I'm not your property, where you can assess the damage every now and again." Quinn pushes past him, and is into the bathroom and everything when his voice rings out.

"I need to know if you're fighting, or if someone's hurting you, Quinn."

She sighs heavily, "Leave me alone. Please."

Sam walks up and leans against the doorway, surveying her as she brushes her teeth. She doesn't appear bothered by his eyes and ignores him steadily, not one ounce of distress in her features. He's amazed sometimes by how she compartmentalizes, by how she can forget everything for a few hours. (Sam knows that she never really forgets it, but she can keep up the façade for hours at a time. He can't do that. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and if it gets swiped, spit or hit at, it's worth the love, happiness and understanding he receives in return. He does know how often she thinks about it though – every ten minutes, for him. They cross his mind all the damn time.)

"Are you finished?" She's obviously done with the bathroom, and looking to leave. He's not budging though – before they go to Brooke, he needs to know what is going on with Quinn. His gaze is as steady as he can make it, drawing her gaze to him. Hers is just as level.

"I haven't even started."

She quirks a smile, "There's cheesy Sam back again. I've missed him."

"Hey, you're not getting out of this one," He says lightly, touching her arm. Sam needs her to know that he'll be there for her, that he's not going to leave her like so many, and that he understands. They're in this together ; she needs to grasp it. "Brooke needs us more than anything else. We need to be able to provide something adequate, and we have to function as well as possible. What is going on with you?" She's silent. "I can help you Quinn… I promise."

She shrugs, her eyes on the floor, "What if I can't help you?"

"You will. Don't worry about that… So? Is someone hurting you?"

Quinn scrunches her face up, scoffing, "Don't be ridiculous, Sam."

Her nonchalant and dismissive attitude angers him, causing his temper to flare. Sam hates when Quinn is like this, when she puts up her walls and becomes dismissive, cold and a huge bitch. He never did like HBIC, though it seemed in school that was all he saw in her. That's what other people thought he saw in her; he saw a strong, independent and beautiful woman who overcame all the hardship she had with dignity and strength. He admired her.

This woman in front of him, was what she became after. Of course, this Quinn was always lingering in high school Quinn, but as they got older, she became more private. She became more distant to him. This Quinn was going to try and block him out, because everyone she's ever let in has hurt her.

He's still angry. "Don't be such a bitch, Quinn. I'm trying to help you."

Her eyes widen, "A bitch? I'm a bitch because I deny someone attacked me? What planet are you living on?"

"That's right, attack and criticise me because you're so deathly afraid of letting someone know you're hurt. And of course, Quinn is so independent and strong that no one can every think someone hurt her."

"Are you an idiot? I'm hurting every minute of every day, Sam. Excuse me if I don't shout it from the rooftops or cry on your shoulder! I thought we had to be strong in front of Brooke, not bumbling messes!"

"That is not what this is about Fabray, and you know it."

"Oh, it's Fabray now? And why did you make it about this then? Hmm? Picking a fight?"

He throws his arms in the air with exasperation, feeling the desperation now. He only wanted to know her problem, and what the hell was causing those marks across her midriff. "I was worried someone was hurting you! Why can't you just admit that you've been attacked or something? God, you're so impossible sometimes. Not everyone is out to get you, you know!"

"You want to know why I didn't respond? You want to know why I didn't tell you my attacker, Sam Evans?" They've been shouting, and her voice is a little hoarse at this point. She never usually shouts, and is out of practice obviously. Quinn doesn't lose her temper, she's too cool and collected for that.

They're inches away from each other now; him staring her down with pure frustration and slight anger, as she glares up through her thick, light eyelashes with heaving breath and fury he hasn't seen before in her. (Lie number one. Lie number two being the other emotion he see's flickering in her eyes, the one screaming for help. The one filled with dread.)

"Come on Quinn, tell me – tell me how horrible I am, that you couldn't tell me!"

She smacks his chest harshly, stray strings of hair falling out of her bobbin and over her face. They move erratically as she hits him, each pound serving to irritate but not hurt. Sam allows this to continue for several more hits, until he grabs her hands, "What, Quinn?" He demands loudly of her.

"Because I did it, you asshole!" Flabbergasted, he drops her hands. She pushes him back and storms past him, her breath still haggard and difficult. Sam follows her into the room and watches numbly as she starts putting the necessities for the day in to her handbag roughly, often dropping items or bashing them together in the bag.

He can barely process the thought. Sam had never thought Quinn would hurt herself, and had definitely never once thought he would miss it. How could he not have asked how she was doing more? Sam should have kept a better eye on her, he should have noticed.

She sits down on her bed then, defeated. He's still standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and speechless. Quinn glances back at him, then turns back to her hands. "It's not your fault, you know."

"But—but I—"

"You couldn't have known. And let's not forget you have your own problems… Sam, this could not be any less your fault. You're going through the same thing as me."

The words make sense, and the knots in his chest release a little. Sam comes to kneel in front of her on the ground, taking her hands into his. He doesn't know how to phrase what he's going to say, or even what he should say, but Sam thinks speaking from the heart is the best thing to do in this situation. He takes a deep breath, and then takes the proverbial plunge, "We're taking Brooke in." His hands are playing with hers, caressing them gently while delicately keeping a tight hold. She's staring at their hands. "We need to be in this together, and – and I need you to be better than this. We can get you help if you want, or we can speak to someone, but… but god Quinn, if you did something even more serious to yourself, I-I don't think I.."

She grips his hands, ceasing the movement. "I won't. I'm not going to do that again… I have Brooke to think about, and I have to make her surroundings a safe environment. None of this."

He says what she's needed to hear then, "Don't be ashamed. We all have bad days."

Quinn nods wordlessly, and he pulls her in for a hug. He has certainly got his work cut out for him.

An hour, two bagels and four cups of coffee later, the duo are standing on the Berry front step. Memories assail both of them, and the desire to be anywhere but here is strong. They should have been more clever in choosing a place to meet – not where their dead friend spent most of her life. That was a bad move on everyone's part. Sam wonders how on earth Rachel's parents live here.

The two of them had moved on swiftly from this morning, and gone to breakfast. They discussed their lives the past few years and caught up on everything of a frivolous nature. He told Quinn all about Dina, and she responded animatedly with questions about her and mocked him with good humour. Quinn told him all about her job and those in it that were important, about her favourite patients, and even a few funny stories. It was the reconnection they needed before doing this. It was what they had been avoiding all along – and in the end, it had been painless.

Now, standing at their dark mahogany door, Sam's glad it's Quinn next to him. (He won't admit she's the only one he'd like standing there.) They exchange apprehensive looks, then he knocks again. It's Hiram who finally answers, looking worse for wear. His glasses are so dirty that it'll be a miracle if he can see out of them, his clothes are not the immaculate state they usually are, and his breath smells distinctly of food. Lots of it. He says nothing as he opens the door wider for them to enter, and Sam is surprised to find how flawlessly clean the house is. There's nothing out of place. He supposes that part is for Brooke's benefit. The façade of the house, and the turmoil of the person is something she'll never distinguish at her age.

It's too quiet, he realises. Quinn voices his thoughts for him, "Where's Brooke?"

"With the Hummels. She'll be back soon. We thought they'd be back before you, but it seems they're running late. Tea?"

Neither of them particularly desired to prolong the visit, but they knew it was inevitable. They were due to have dinner with them tonight and tomorrow night, too. Sam had wanted to simply take Brooke and run, but everyone else had insisted on a show for the little girl first. She had to understand what was happening and have time to process it. Hence, despite his wishes, anything that is better for Brooke came first for him.

However, their plan for today had been to take Brooke out for the day, then return for dinner here. Apparently, this is not how things are going to unfold. Since that is obvious, Quinn nods and says that would be lovely. The lie wraps around his body tightly, making him feel even more unease. They shouldn't be uneasy here. Sam opts for coffee.

They sit quietly in the dining room as they wait for Hiram to return. Leroy has yet to make an appearance, which confuses both of them. Quizzical glances are thrown about until Hiram returns. "Mr. Berry, where is your partner?"

"Oh. He's out shopping. Developed a bit of an addiction!" He forces a smile. "So how has Lima been so far?"

"Awful." Sam replies honestly, receiving a glare from his company.

Hiram nods empathetically though, "I know. We're going on a cruise when you leave… it's time to try and repair, and nothing so far seems to be working."

"All I hear people telling me about is time. Who is this person, and where can I find them?" Quinn questions, but it's not a joke. The other two understand it as no other who hadn't experienced this loss would.

Sam turns back to Hiram, "How is Brooke?"

His head bobs back and forth as he finds the words, "She's so-so. Nightmares come and go, you know. She'll sometimes bring up a memory, or mention something that reminds her. Wetting the bed has become a frequent feature of our nights." His eyes meet theirs, sadness travelling across the table with his gaze, "But for the most part, she's a happy little girl."

"I suppose that's what we hope for." Sam mumbles, but it's still strange to hear. He knows that Brooke doesn't fully understand, that children adapt quickly, but how can she be coping better than him?

There's noise at the front door that Hiram goes to investigate – it's presumed to be Leroy with several tons of shopping bags. This theory is dashed however by a very loud, and very excited exclamation of:

"Quinn! Sam!"

They both turn in time to see a bundle of brown hair darting towards them. Looking at her, the wind is promptly knocked out of Sam's sails and the blood in his veins turns cold.

He had forgotten how alike them she is.

(Past)

The summer was just coming to and end, and by god, it had been a good one. For once, it hadn't been spent in the sweltering and oppressive heat of Lima, but in the busy rush and humidity of New York. For the most part, his summer was spent with Quinn, Santana, Finn and Rachel, but there had been several big bashes where the whole Glee club was involved.

It was the seventh of August when he found out the news, and it was the day that changed his life. Sam knew it changed his friends lives the most, but it was still a day that changed everything for him, and a day that will be forever imprinted deeply upon his memory. He remembered everything about it; from the crisp, cool summer air to the smell of the fireworks, and the sweat that dotted everyone's foreheads from their erratic dancing.

It was on the roof of his and Sam's apartment building, and everyone was there. The reason being? Tina and Mike had gotten engaged, and this was the celebration that they threw for them. Puck supplied the fireworks, Santana the alcohol, Brittany the decorations, Artie the high-tech music while Mercedes supplied Mike and Tina in fine, oblivious fashion. They had no idea.

He had been having a wonderful night. He danced with Quinn several times, did shots with Puck and Finn, had a long chat with Kurt and Blaine and then he and Rachel decided to sing loudly for everyone. That prompted a sing- song, of course. Everyone said a few words for the couple of honour. (His eyes couldn't help but stray to his girlfriend during every word, because he thought the moon and stars of her, and he thought their love was one to last the times, too.)

The night wasn't spoiled by what happened next; just different. Finn approached him, suddenly looking nothing like he had earlier. The red flush across his face – signs of a good time – had disappeared to be replaced with a ghastly white shade; his eyes which were alight with the party, had died down to wide-eyed stare; and his forehead, which had been sweaty from dancing, was no dripping with what seemed to be nerves. Sam clapped him on the back, "Dude, you okay?"

"I don't know…" He trailed off, then turned to face Sam. "I think so."He nodded slowly, a smile spreading across his face.

This happiness was nothing like the emotion from earlier; his grin stretched right across his face, his teeth on show for everyone; his eyes wrinkled at the sides to make room for his smile and his eyes reflected a bright spark. He said, in a dream-like state, "Rachel's pregnant."

Sam wasn't sure how to respond to that. "Wha-what?"

"I know! That was my reaction, and that's why I moved over here but – but how could this not be a good thing? I love Rachel, I want to have children with her. As long as they get everything from, of course – especially her dancing. God, I can't believe I even doubted this was good. I have to find Rachel!"

Sam pulled him back by the arm, "You're going to be a Dad, man."

He nodded, taking a deep breath. A small smile remained on his face, filled with all the promises of the future, "I know."

"You're gonna be a Dad, man!" Sam repeated, this time with a matching grin. He pulled Finn in for a hug, and patted him roughly on the back. "You two will be the best parents ever." They separated, and Finn thanked him in a rushed manner before running to Rachel.

He turned around halfway through, and said loudly, "If she lets me, you're so being godfather,dude!"

Sam laughed. This was certainly going to change things – of course, he knew it would be for the better, and it was.

A/N: So, I suppose this is a quicker update than usual. I surprised myself with that, too! haha. I am just loving writing this at the moment, for reasons I can't pin. It used to be "friends" I was more into, but this is becoming more so the focus. Oh, and if you want to check out my other writing, I really rec "Friends". There's something for everyone in it! thanks so much for your reviews so far, they're really great. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Disclaimer: Do not own Glee or James Morrisons song, "Pieces don't fit anymore".
Please review,

CN