AN: The reviews for previous chapter were really thought provoking you guys had really good points regarding Sams choice to marry Quinn under these circumstances. To quote one reviewer he is, as they all are "emotionally retarded." It gets better! =p

Chapter 6: What Goes Around

xox

Mercedes turned the locks on her door and threw it open.

Her heart fell to her stomach. "Sam?" she shrieked.

"I had to see you again," he said, launching himself into her arms.

"What are you doing here?"

"I thought I just explained that. Please, just once more—"

"No. No. No, no, no. You're engaged to be married and so am I."

A look of shock past over Sam's face before he regained control. "Already?"

She felt a stab of guilt at his wounded tone. "Yeah."

"Didn't take you long to forget about me, did it?"

"Didn't take you long to forget about me, hm?" she returned coolly.

"Who is he?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

"You're on the rebound."

"At least I love him." She really needed sleep… she was blurting out the first things that came to mind.

He seized her arms and pulled her close, his face stormy. "I thought you loved me."

"Do I even need to repeat your words back to you?"

"Is that was this is? Payback? Some kind of scheme to avenge yourself?"

"No."

Her straightforward answer seemed to throw him off guard. "Then what is it? Who is he? How could you possibly find someone else to love so quickly?"

"I don't think I ever stopped loving him," she said quietly. "Love never really ends, does it? It fades and grows stronger, depending on the time or the person… but it never disappears altogether. Not really."

"Puck," he said flatly.

She looked away.

"That's just great," he said, more angry now. "So now he wants to marry you? What, has he vowed to give up cheating? How long's that going to last: for Lent?"

"This isn't a joke, Sam. He promised to try." Even to her own ears the words sounded futile—she was grasping at straws.

"To try. Right." His grip on her arms tightened. "What is this, some sort of masochistic trip? You lost and now you're punishing yourself for it?"

"Lost?" She shook off his grip. "Is that what you think this is? A contest of sorts? Quinn won and I lost? Maybe I'm really the winner, because I'm free from you now. At least Puck's going to try to make me happy—you really couldn't care less what happens to me."

"You know that's not true."

"Do I?"

"I'm doing this for Quinn. For—not for myself. Not for you. For justice."

"Justice, huh. It's just that I get left behind because Quinn was lucky enough to get pregnant?"

"Stop it."

"Stop what? Saying the truth? You need to hear it from someone, because you're obviously not able to see it yourself!"

"You're twisting the truth," he said. "Stop wallowing in pity and trying to pin the blame on me."

"I'm not trying to pin anything on you!" she shouted. "I'm trying to get you off my back for attempting to be happy. Is that such a bad thing? Or do you imagine no one can be happy without you?" She paused to catch her breath. "Or maybe that's not it at all. Maybe you feel that if you can't be happy, no one can. Is that it? Huh? Huh?"

Sam looked at her worriedly. "Mercedes. You're hysterical."

"I'm not!"

He gathered her into her arms. "It's okay to cry."

"Who said anything about crying?" She beat her fists against his chest.

"It's okay to be mad."

"Stop psychologizing and leave me alone."

"That's not a word."

"And you're not Sigmund Freud. Just let me go!" She shoved away from him, hard. He wobbled for a moment before regaining his balance.

Once again they were standing mere feet apart, staring at each other as if in a western show-down.

"I'm not hyperventilating," she said.

"And I'm not… psychologizing."

Silence. Mercedes was staring at his eyes—They're such nice eyes… gentle, and comforting—and he was staring at her face without really seeing it—She's getting married. How can she get married? How can I get married?

"How can it end like this?" he asked aloud.

She smiled sadly. "It doesn't have to."

They looked at each other, each not daring to speak the words they were both thinking.

And then—without even discussing it—they both knew what the other wanted, really, they came together, holding each other, sinking onto the floor in a fit of passion, with the knowledge that this was most likely the last time they would ever commit such an act.

Quinn's eyes once again strayed to the hands of the clock on the bedside. She forced herself too focus on the book she was reading… but after she reached the next chapter and realized she had no idea what was going on, she figured it was time to cash it in.

10 p.m. Sam said he'd be back by nine. She'd been hoping to talk to him for a while before going to sleep. Long conversations like they used to have, back when Sam actually made time for her. Back when he still loved her.

How had it turned out like this? Was it too much to ask for someone to love her in return? Sam had only been her third boyfriend… her first, Finn, had broken off the relationship when they went to different colleges. Mike, who she dated for most of college, broke up with her after he realized he was in love with Tina. Then came Sam… who spent most of their relationship pining after Santana. And now, as she recently discovered, probably after Mercedes as well.

Is there something wrong with me?

10:03 pm.

He was at Mercedes'. She just knew it.

Stop it. He could be at a bar. Or working late. Or… in a bookstore?

She threw the book across the room. Damn it.

Swiping at her tears, she curled up in a ball and pulled the covers tightly around her, not even bothering to turn off the light.

The "morning after" was far from a peaceful bliss. When she awoke in Sam's arms, Mercedes couldn't feel anything besides guilt. Irrational, yes, she knew—he loves me! Me me me not Quinn—but perhaps it was natural to feel sick over deceiving her friend. Former friend. Whatever.

I'm a terrible person. She pulled a pillow over her head.

Sam kissed the back of her neck. "What's the matter?" he asked. The question was casual enough, but the words sounded strained.

"You know what's the matter."

"Mercedes, you know I hate it when you do that."

"What, not give you a straight answer? Because you know the answer already?"

"You're feeling guilty, aren't you."

"Ya think?"

He sighed and pulled her closer. "Sometimes a conscience is a bad thing."

"I wonder if you even have one."

"That hurt." He sounded as if it had. Mercedes immediately felt bad. "I wouldn't be here right now if I didn't. Have one, that is," he said.

"I guess not." She let out a breath of air.

He rested his head on top of hers. "Why…" he said softly, the word more a sigh than an actual uttering.

Mercedes felt around for his hand and clasped it tightly within hers. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, wishing the cursed daylight would go away.

Another hour passed before Mercedes found the will to pull herself out of bed and into the bathroom. Sam was still sleeping—or at least appeared to be. She smiled briefly and turned on the shower, absently braiding her hair as she waited for the water to warm up.

The bathroom door banged open and she jumped. "You scared me," she said, hand upon her heart.

Sam eyed her blearily. "Jumpy this morning." He then seemed to register the fact that the shower was running and that she was still naked. "Can I come in with you?"

Mercedes flushed and shrugged, although her smile grew a bit. "Sure, why not?"

He kicked off his boxers and hopped into the shower.

"Hey, no fair—you're bigger than I am, you'll take up all the water!"

"That's what you get for being slow," he taunted, sticking his head around the shower curtain.

"Okay, now you're going to get it."

"False threats, my dear Mercedes, aren't very effective."

"I'm coming in there—"

After a shampoo and conditioner fight and a brief (okay, maybe not so brief) make-out session, Mercedes said, "My water bill's going to be sky-high."

"I'll help you pay for it."

"Yeah, sure you will." She kissed his cheek and turned off the water. "Out. And don't drip water all over the floor."

"Yes ma'am." He threw back the curtain and stepped out of the tub, promptly creating a giant puddle on the bathroom floor.

Mercedes sighed and reached for the towel on the rack.

It was Sam who entered the kitchen first, decked out in Mercedes' bathrobe. Mercedes, in an oversized tee-shirt, promptly crashed into his back as he stopped in the middle of the doorway.

"You clown, what are you doing?" she said playfully.

She heard Sam gulp. "Uh, hi, Quinn…" she heard him say.

Mercedes closed her eyes. You've got to be kidding me.

"What are you doing here?" he continued, sounding very guilty.

"I knew you'd be here of course," Quinn said. "And I wanted to talk to you so… I came."

Mercedes stayed hidden behind Sam's back, not sure she could handle facing Quinn.

"Mercedes, it's okay, you can come out. I'm not going to throw anything at you. Yet."

Mercedes winced and stepped around Sam. "Quinn, I'm—"

"Save it. Please." The petite girl had bags under her eyes, and she hugged herself, the baggy jeans and large sweatshirt giving her a fragile appearance. "I want both of you to hear what I'm going to say."

Mercedes bit her lip and averted her eyes. Was it possible to die of guilt?

"Last night, I cried myself to sleep," started Quinn.

Oh great, go for the pity trip—Mercedes thought.

"And then I realized I brought this upon myself," continued Quinn. "I'm only torturing myself like this, going on pretending that Sam still loves me… if you ever did, that is," she said, meeting his eyes.

Sam started, "Quinn—"

"Hush. We all know it's the truth. Don't we, Mercedes?"

"Erm…" She didn't take her eyes off the floor.

"Somewhere around 3 o'clock this morning, I decided to take control of my life. So I'm leaving. Now. To go anywhere. I already filed for a leave of absence—the company's calling it sabbatical, I think they're hoping I'll write a novel or something while I'm away—but I don't think I'll be coming back any time soon."

"Quinn—" Sam started towards her.

"No." She jumped backwards. "No, please, don't touch me. Don't worry, I'll have our baby—I wouldn't let her go for anything. I'll bring her to visit you once in a while, just to satisfy her curiosity. I don't want her to have to search for you and then be disappointed."

"There's no need for insults," said Mercedes.

"She? Her?" Sam said at the same time.

"It's a girl, I'm sure of it," Quinn said. "And Mercedes, kindly shut up. I love you dearly, you know that—well, yeah, I'm freaking pissed off at you right now, but I'll get over it. I promise. You know me, I don't hold grudges that long."

You really think you'll be able to get over this? Mercedes thought incredulously.

"So yeah, just wanted to say that… um… I'll be leaving now, I guess." Quinn started for the door.

Sam sprang after her. "Quinn wait—"

"Sam, don't."

"What about our engagement? The wedding?"

Quinn spun around. Had her eyes been lasers… "You really think I'd marry you after all this?"

"Quinn, it was just—heat of the moment—"

Mercedes choked.

Sam winced, aware of his mistake "I mean—"

"Sam," said Mercedes. "You need to make up your mind. Right now. You can't have both of us. Actually, at the rate things are going, you won't have either of us." She looked at Quinn. "Looks as if Santana was the only smart one."

Quinn just stared back at her, obviously not in the mood for sharing a joke.

Mercedes bit her tongue and turned around. "I'm going back to bed. Wake me when you make your decision, Sam."

She stalked back into the bedroom, seething. Slamming the door behind her provided little relief. She crawled back under the covers of her bed and sighed heavily, vaguely disturbed at her lack of tears. She couldn't even muster the energy to cry.

He won't come back.

"Ugh." She squeezed her eyes shut.

Four hours later, when she awoke again, the sun had shifted and the shadows within her room were at different angles. She had the strangest feeling of déjà vu—only there was no Sam in the bed this time.

Barely allowing herself to hope—she almost knew what she'd find before she got there—she climbed out of bed and walked into the kitchen.

An empty kitchen.

She checked the table, the counters, the refrigerator, anywhere for a note of some kind. She checked her answering machine—the light wasn't flashing. She checked her cell phone, but there were no missed calls or new messages.

She sank down into a chair at the table and dropped her head into the palm of her hand.

It looked as if he was really gone this time. And if Quinn had her way, he wasn't coming back. Ever.

Mercedes pressed her lips together and blinked her eyes rapidly. Figured that the tears would come now.

Sam had made his choice. Just as she'd feared. But then, she'd known from the beginning that she'd be the loser, hadn't she? Somewhere, deep down inside her, she'd known it wouldn't last. Couldn't last.

I just wanted to be happy… She'd just wanted everyone to be happy.

And now no one was happy. Not really.

Was it even worth it all?

She honestly had no answer to that.

The afternoon shadows that streamed through the kitchen window shifted again as she sat in that chair at the table, motionless, thinking about the past few months and all the events that marked the passing of days, and how weak her justification was.

Did the end justify the means?

Was this the end?

There was one shadow that fell across the floor that looked suspiciously human-like, but in her thoughts, Mercedes didn't even notice.

AN:Don't hit me! lol I find that I end most of these chapters with someone walking in. Or just showing up when Mercedes is alone. Yay for consistency. D: Review time! (: