Chapter Nine: I whisper empty sounds in your ear, and hope that you don't let go.
Between the two of them, for as long as he can remember, the child-friendly adult has been him. He always helped out at birthdays, joined in in elaborate hide and seek games, drove four blocks for that favourite packet of sweets or created a new game completely from scratch. That's not to say Quinn isn't great with kids – she's great with Brooke. Outside of that, Quinn is fairly useless with any specimen under the age of seventeen. That's why, several hours later, when he and the two girls are sitting in a tiny booth in a tiny café, he doesn't understand why he just can't.
Then again, he can completely understand. Why hadn't he noticed before how strikingly alike Brooke is to her parents? Everytime he glances at her, Rachel's eyes twinkle mischievously. She wrinkles her nose in distaste in response to a silly joke, but all he sees is Finn. Quinn is marvellous, picking up his slack in fine fashion, while he grapples with the idea of spending all his time with the clone of his dead friends. Some of her mannerisms even knock the air out of his lungs; they bear such an uncanny resemblance to her parents.
They'd already been to the local playground, and to a few shops. Quinn had been unwavering in listening intently to all of Brooke's stories – there had been quite a few – but he, where he is usually infallible, couldn't hear a word. The blood keeps pounding relentlessly in his ears, rendering him unable to hear a word of anything else.
He spots Quinn frowning at him, making him force a smile. Usually, their smiles are forced, yet even Sam can feel the difference this time. He can't even try. Her expression turns to one of concern, but Sam subtly waves her off. Brooke finishes chewing a chip and nudges Quinn, "Are you even listening to me, Quinnie?" She sighs exasperatedly, as if dealing with a small child, "I couldn't decide to get the purple or green colour and it was really difficult but Grandpa helped me but I think he chose his favourite colour not mine."
"He chose the green?" Quinn laughs, looking down adoringly at the animated child next to her. It's the best word to describe the ball of energy; animated. Every second of every day, her face is always lit up and her eyes wide and alert. Mouth always moving.
Brooke shakes her head. Sam sharply redirects his eyes as she wrinkles her nose at Quinn's apparent foolishness, "No, silly! Purple, duh." Her eyes spot something across the room then, causing her to wiggle in her seat with excitement. "Oh, Quinn, Sammy, can I get some jelly beans? Pleease? All I need is a carter!"
"A quarter?" The blonde responds, then picks one out of her purse to pass on. She watches as the little girl squeezes past her in the booth and bounds off towards the sweets in a jar. Keeping her vision where it is, Quinn says to him, "We have to talk to her, you know. We can't just whisk her away after dinner tomorrow without talking about things." He nods, absently forgetting that she's not looking at him. She glances at him, "Sam?"
He finds words, somehow, "Yeah. Yeah, I – I guess you're right there.."
"What is up with you?" She whispers, eyes flickering to Brooke to ensure she's safe. Also, she doesn't want the girl overhearing their conversation. "You've been practically silent since we got her." When he fails to respond, because he doesn't know what to tell her, Quinn scolds him, "We have to make this a happy atmosphere for her – we have to be a good environment for her. I assume that's why we were chosen for the job, and not her grandparents."
A wave of nausea passes through him, which he swallows down as best as possible. He gulps thickly before replying, "I know. I'm sorry… it's.. it's.."
Her eyes become soft, her hand reaching across the table to grasp his, "What is it, Sam? If taking care of a child is too daunt—"
"No!" He blurts out, wrenching his hand back. Quinn's brows shoot up as she falls back into her seat, looking to him to continue. He says softly, "I forgot she was so like them."
"Oh, Sam, I—" She extends her arm so her hand can rest on his, but this action – and her words – are interrupted as Brooke arrives back at the table. Having scooped up her hoody to reveal the purple and white striped top underneath, Brooke dutifully carries two handfuls of jelly beans in the fold of her clothes. With careful precision, she manoeuvres herself back to her original seat and spills the sweets onto the table.
Taking one and popping it in her mouth, she says to Sam seriously, "They're good."
He cracks his first genuine smile that day, "Oh, yeah? How's about getting one in here?" He points to his now open mouth, eliciting a glorious giggle from the child. He also hears Quinn chuckle gently as Brooke makes a dramatic show out of squinting one eye shut, sticking her tongue out for that extra bit of concentration and aiming as best she can.
Of course, when she does eventually throw it, the bean sails right over Sam's head and onto the table behind them. Brooke and he duck simultaneously, leading to her smacking her hand over her mouth to stop the laughs and he holding his finger to his lips. Quinn waves at the people from the other table, "Sorry about that, you know kids," Her chuckle is nervous this time, but the neighbouring table turn back around thankfully. She rolls her eyes as Brooke sits up and bursts into uproarious laughter, pointing her finger at Sam.
"You missed! You missed!"
"That, Brookie, was nowhere near the vicinity of my mouth!"
"Vicity? What's that?"
"Vicinity, like the area." Quinn replies for him. Brooke begins to aim another one into his mouth, when Quinn puts her arm down. "Hey, no more of that. I think it's caused enough trouble. Besides, we've to go now, your grandparents are expecting you back soon."
She pouts like the child she is, "You're no fun, Quinnie,"
"Yeah, you're no fun Quinnie."
Quinn glares at him as she puts on Brooke's jacket, then allowing the little girl to skip ahead of them. She raises her eyebrow at him, smiling slightly, "I'm not playing permanent badcop, you know."
"But you're so good at it!" Sam whines as he follows them out.
(At this point, he knows that he'll get accustomed to Brooke. He'll have to act in the meantime.)
As they stand in the hallway, having expertly dodged more wine for the night, Sam is at a loss as to what he should say. He knows the customary goodbye exchange is on his lips, but the threat of that being disrespectful lingers with him. Quinn glances to him, then opens her arms to hug Leroy. They hold each other for a few moments, saying wasted words of comfort in vain. Sam awkwardly turns to Hiram, extending his hand to shake it. His lips press down hard, reigning in every emotion threatening to spill onto the surface of his expression.
Hiram's eyes soften, "You don't have to be so nervous, I'm not angry." Yes, Sam can remember when he first spoke to Hiram about Brooke coming with he and Quinn. Of course, it had been over the phone, but the frostiness in his tone, the ugliness of his words and the truth in his harsh reality are imprinted in his memory.
He nods, "I hope so. I—I'm only trying to do right by them." The older man nods, not getting a chance to speak as Quinn reaches over to hug him. It's brief, with neither of them having much to say. Hiram had so blatantly been the unhappiest with the arrangement, and by far the most vocal about it. Quinn isn't as forgiving as he, regardless of the circumstances.
Sam shakes Leroy's hand, extending his sympathies once more as he does so. The older man gestures for him to stop, "This is about all of us, now." He clears his throat, drawing back to stand beside his husband. Quinn and Sam stand in front, listening intently to the quiet that surrounds them. The buzz of energy had gone to sleep, leaving the adults to depart. There's an unspoken air about the couple that tells Sam he's not supposed to leave yet. There's something they want to say, but haven't found the words yet. Until they do, he must bear the suffering of the silence, as he so often does. Quinn moves subtly closer to him, brushing her arm gently against his in the process.
After several moments with just stares and glances to pass the time, Quinn has had enough. She raises her eyebrows, while her eyes flicker back and forth between Hiram and Leroy, "Shall we leave, then?"
Leroy looks at his partner, then sighs as he turns back to Quinn. "We… We don't want to offend you, but there are some things I have to say before you leave. That we have to say." He nudges Hiram, who shuffles a bit.
"You have to be good for her. There's no use in someone who's just as much a blubbering mess, she needs stability and comfort and normality. Crying, fighting, depression; they're things she can live without. And you know what? They are things she could do here without. We protected her as best we could, now it's your job. "
His brown eyes stare down both of them, as if having a serious talk with children about stealing, "She depends on you two. For everything, from now on, you are her sole providers. For all intents and purposes, you—you will be the centre of her … her whole universe." He shrugs at the end, losing some of his anger as he recalls how Rachel dominated Brooke's world. He shakes his head then, capturing their gaze again, "You're taking care of a child now. You have a child now – don't let her down. Do you understand?"
The question has more weight than one would think upon first hearing it, but both of them recognise the importance of what they're about to do. Sam see's Quinn bristle, and instantly knows she's a little offended that they think she hasn't already considered all of this. Sam, however, understands exactly why they're going through this – they're saying goodbye, and they have to ensure they said everything possible to make them understand what's happening. How important she is to them, too; clearly, Hiram wants them to know that.
Leroy jumps in then, before either of them have a chance to get a word in, "I want you to know that I couldn't have asked for better people for the job. Ever since you two were young," His voice hitches, Hiram grasps his hand. "R—Rachel always talked of you. You were her best friends, that's something I'll never forget. You were there for her, and now, you're there for her daughter. Beyond my own wishes for custody, because I realise it is better for her to be with younger people, I am glad that you are doing it. I just want you to know that.. So if you're ever struggling, or having a hard time, we're just a phonecall away – and more than glad to help. We won't judge, everyone has bad days."
Quinn's eyes are welling, so she swipes at them lightly, "Thank you, I appreciate that. And Hiram, believe me, I fully understand all you're saying. We'll see you tomorrow night, then."
"The Last Supper," Sam quips, feeling under pressure. He receives a subtle elbow to the gut from Quinn, and perplexed stares from the two husbands. Chuckling nervously, he bites out, "Sorry, bad habits. See you tomorrow. Thanks for all the support, and Hiram, we won't let you down. You have my word."
"I hope that counts for something," He replies, but it's not in the cold tone he usually musters up.
"In my world, that's that." He smiles, finally taking leave. As he and Quinn reach his car, he breathes a sigh of utter relief, "God. I thought I'd never get out of there."
She smacks him before walking around to her side, not saying anything until they're both seated, "Hey! None of that, they're like our in-laws now. Anyway, I'm ready to leave that tense hallway behind, let's hit the motel."
"Wow, that sounds romantic." He says in sarcastic awe.
"Oh, it is. Not that we'll be benefitting from it. But did you know, it even has a mini-bar?"
"No?" He gasps sarcastically, "We'll have to take advantage of that... especially after today."
Quinn eyes him briefly before turning once again to the road, "She reminds me of them, too. But it comforts me, knowing I get a little bit of them through her. Knowing that even if they're not here anymore, there's—there's still something of them here. She's a perfect blend, too, with no more of one than the other. I think I'll be better with her around, Sam," she says honestly.
He doesn't reply for a second, wondering what she wants him to reply with. Sam resigns himself to being just as honest, "Well, at least one of us will be." He feels her hand squeeze his forearm and strangest of all – it does provide him with a sense of comfort.
It reminds him, along with some other things, that he doesn't have to do this alone.
The remainder of the trip to the motel is uneventful, with Quinn absently playing with the stations on the radio. It's at these times that both of them regret meeting Finn and Rachel in the Glee club; had they really covered that many songs? Regardless, neither of them speak and simply enjoy the comfort of being at ease. That hasn't been a common feeling lately.
Sam can't help the guilt that shakes his bones when he thinks about how he acted with Brooke. One of the most important people in his life, and he can't even have the decency to put on a brave face. The little girl who looks to him now for guidance, advice, fun, comfort and everything necessary in this world, was let down by his cowardice and inability to act. He's angry at himself, but not unsympathetic.
It's an understandable reaction, he convinces himself logically. He decides in the end to focus mainly on the road, emptying his mind of everything vital and current. The open stretch of road in front of him is all he needs to know now.
As they pull into the motel, he wonders why they are staying in a motel. Both of them can afford the hotel that is just an extra ten minutes away, so why are they reducing themselves to this squalor? Sam resigns himself to the motel then, much too weary to raise the topic of moving accommodation. Neither of them move for several moments.
Quinn finally allows her hand to rest on his wrist, her thumb stroking it just once, "We can do this. We love her, and she loves us. That's all we need to know now."
He nods, taking in her words. He appreciates that she's trying to comfort her, but is angry with himself - he is supposed to be the one fixing Quinn, the woman who was cutting herself and wasting away. Sam looks at her; her hair is caught up, the end of the curly tail touching her shoulder lightly. It allows him to see her face properly, which he hasn't in a while, and he's surprised to find her skin with a new glow, her eyes with the semblance of a twinkle and her cheeks flushed. Sam realises that Brooke is going to be the best thing to happen to Quinn, and he has to adopt the same reaction. As if reading his former thoughts, Quinn speaks again, "You know it's not your job to try and fix me, don't you? It's not your job to fix everything.. you know that, right?"
Sam's eyes jump to hers, startled by her words. He had forgotten she could do that. The moment is broken as his phone rings intrusively upon the conversation. He reaches to answer it after a gesture from Quinn to do so. Sam is in such a fluster that he doesn't check caller ID, and immediately regrets that decision upon answering.
"Sam, thank god. I was worried!"
His heart drops. Guilt hits. His throat turns dry. "I'm sorry, Dina. I-I've been really busy."
He can hear the sympathy in her next words, "Oh, no, I'm sorry. I should have known you'd be swamped. How is everything? Brooke?"
Sam turns off the ignition, sitting back into the chair properly. Quinn raises her eyebrows in askance, to which he shakes his head. Somehow, she understands that this isn't a conversation that involves her, and takes her leave. Sam is left alone in the car with his thoughts, the air, the radio and his fiancé. "Um, it's alright. Nothing great... I wish I could do more for them." He only realises his words as he says them, as well as the truth in them. It feels good to talk to someone not involved in the situation.
"It's not your job to help their parents, Samuel," She says gently, her voice low.
His face screws up in confusion, "What? I know that, I'm not trying to fix... Oh. You think - no, no, I meant Quinn and Brooke."
There's a pause on the other end of the line that causes him to worry, which he doesn't really need right now. When she speaks again, her tone is completely devoid of emotion. "There are separate beds in this motel room, aren't there, Sam?"
Annoyance grips onto his words, "Of course, Dina. Did you think me and Quinn came here to jump into bed together?"
He recognises about a second too late that perhaps these words are harsh, that perhaps the cold and disapproving tone are uncalled for and that perhaps he should be a little more sympathetic. Dina's response only fuels this, "I'm sorry, but...but I'm stuck here. In our apartment, sleeping in an empty bed wishing you were here. You're not though; you're with your ex-girlfriend in a motel room miles away. How am I supposed to feel about that?"
"Dina, it-"
"No. I know this is a hard time, Sam. I'm trying, I really am. But can't you try and be a little more receptive to me?"
Sam knows what she wants him to say, and in this moment, feeling so weary and tired with the world conspiring against him, he only wants to say what she wants to hear. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. I'm sorry."
Part of him is indignant, screaming of how he shouldn't be apologising to anyone. He hasn't done anything wrong, and yet, it seems everything wrong is done to him. The desire to end the conversation is too strong though, so he tucks away that indignation - and perhaps resentment - for now. He hears her sigh on the other end, mostly in relief it sounds like, "Thank you. I want to be there for you."
"I know. Listen, I've to go. We're just leaving the Berry's."
"Okay. I love you, Sam."
He swallows the lump in his throat with difficulty, "Yeah, I love you, too."
He knew for weeks what was coming, he knew what she was brewing before she had even concocted it. He didn't know why, or how; but Sam Evans had a hunch that his girlfriend was preparing something that he wasn't ready for.
On all accounts, he should be ready. She was an amazing woman; gorgeous, successful, understanding. She was everything he had ever wanted in a woman – except she wasn't. He tried so many times to come around to it, to convince himself that she was what he wanted. In reality, she was just the one picking up the pieces. At the start, at least.
A year with someone left its marks though, and it wasn't long before he considered himself truly in love with her. (He had known greater love.) Yet, when the time came, when he had the time to think about whether he would do it, he thought he wasn't ready. He was sure he wasn't ready.
Sam didn't speak to anyone about it, mostly out of fear of the reply. He mulled it over silently, debating and contemplating, until he came to the decision that there was no decision. What were his true reasons for saying no? He wasn't getting younger – and while he certainly wasn't old, Sam was becoming more cynical that there was anything else out there for him beyond Dina. (anymore.)
As 'gay' as Noah Puckerman would deem it, Sam needed love. He was always a sensitive, caring person who expected the same things in life in return. He wanted to love, and be loved in return. He wanted the security, the happiness, the picket fence; he wanted the real deal. Dina was his best shot, and Sam would be damned if he let that go.
It was a crisp afternoon when it happened; the sun was low in the sky, and the wind was strong, whipping around their forms. She was forlorn because their picnic was ruined by the weather, but he wasn't the least bothered. He had always loved the outdoors; now was no different. The air was refreshing to him, while the cold was awakening. She complained about how the day was spoilt, about how she worked so hard to make it perfect.
Sam rolled his eyes, pulling her in close. She nuzzled into his neck as they sat on the blanket beside the lake, the gentle sounds of the lake lapping the shore adding to the ambiance. His hand moved rhythmically up and down her back, speaking in a soft whisper, "It is perfect. Stop worrying about everything Dina; you don't always have to try so hard. I love you."
She grew silent, her face buried in his chest still. He was content to sit in silence, and so wasn't bothered by this. He loved the days where he and Dina did this – just took off, relaxed and enjoyed each other's company. They would talk about nonsensical things, sensible things and downright ridiculous things. She would tell him about the time she wet herself during a road trip when they couldn't find toilets – they laughed uproariously – and he would tell her about the time he sang Justin Bieber to all his friends - she laughed uproariously. This time was different.
He felt her move away from him, turning to her bag and pausing there for a second. His eyes focused on her curiously, brows furrowing, "You okay there, Di?"
"Yeah." Her voice was quiet. "Actually Sam, I'm more than okay." She turned around, her dirty blonde hair flying wildly around her face with the wind. Brown eyes peeked at him apprehensively, but there was a delight in them that was hard to resist. Her dimples appeared adorably for him, while her hands fidgeted with something in her hand. Inhaling deeply, for courage, she finally unveiled the object in her hand.
A single, silver ring. There was a rather large diamond fitted into the middle, gloriously twinkling back at him mockingly in the light of the setting sun.
He couldn't speak. She did it for him, "I've never been happier than I am with you. All my life, I thought this kind of love and compatibility was a myth. I scoffed at my friends stories, and rolled my eyes at the tv, because I thought it wasn't real. But—but you make me believe in love. As cliché'd as it sounds, you make me want to shake everyone and tell them how amazing it is. You make me want to proclaim it to each and every friend and foe."
She shrugged, becoming embarrassed, "You make me feel lucky, loved and … and happy. Marry me?"
Sam struggled to find the words to respond. Yes, he had suspected she was gearing towards a wedding – but he thought she was going to ask him to propose. He thought she was going to give him a serious talk about the ring.. he never expected her to pop the question! Many of his instincts told him it was too early in the relationship, that he had unresolved issues and that he carried baggage Dina hadn't felt the full weight of yet – but as he looked into those eager, and nervous, brown orbs, he knew what his answer had to be.
There was no one else waiting for him; there was nothing else for him in the world. What was more, is that there shouldn't be. He found love, he was one of the lucky ones. He couldn't let it run away.
Glancing at the ring, Sam laughed a little, "That's a bit small, isn't it?"
A blush crept over her features, and she held it out for him to take, "That's because you put it on me. I wasn't missing the opportunity to flash a ring!"
With a large grin, Sam took the ring from her. Carefully, he slid it over the appropriate finger with precision. For as long as he lived, he would never forget the joy that overcame her then. It was then that he made a promise to himself; he would do anything to keep that expression on her face.
(Little did he know, that one day, he would be the exact reason that would make her think she'd never feel that way again.)
Hey guys :) So, hope this update isn't too late for you. I tried to get it out as soon as I finished my exams! Yes, that was the reason for the delay. I only have one left now - and it's a good bit away - so I'll update again :D I'm really interested in what everyone thinks of the scenes with Dina in particular! Disclaimer: Do not own Glee or "machines" by Biffy Clyro.
I would really love some reviews! Thanks for the feedback so far,
CN.