Mercedes has learned, having lived her 16 years in the Jones household, that life is a series of problems that start out big, but can be broken down into smaller ones, easier to conquer, until finally, there's only one left.
Sometimes, though, it's the one that's the hardest.
They'd started out as three: Mercedes holding her hand, Puck looking on, and Quinn, sweaty and exhausted and doing all the work – physically and emotionally.
Then there were two: Quinn and little Beth, baby brown eyes glued to mommy's hazel, both smiling at each other and knowing nothing else in the world but the connection of mother and child. The two were separate, the cord was cut, but they were forever linked in the two of blood and love.
But now there was only one.
One girl, curled up crying and alone in a bed that seemed suddenly too big for her frame. Who can tell the weight of a teenage girl's pain when eight pounds five ounces of soft baby girl, eight months of never being alone is suddenly gone, and a blonde girl who seems so small, so terribly small is left alone with emptiness and a memory?
Mercedes didn't know, and Puck had left the room with tears in his eyes minutes earlier. Quinn's cheeks were still wet, had been for the last hour, would be for… who knew how long. Mercedes didn't.
So she stepped inside the room; Quinn heard the door creak open and shut but only lifted her head in acknowledgement of the girl with whom she'd been living.
"Do you need anything?"
Nothing except the barest shake.
"Do you need anyone?"
This time, nothing at all.
And therein, Mercedes knew, lay the problem.
Though she didn't have any psychic ability, or even a hint of whatever Rachel Berry called her "sixth sense" – which Mercedes wrote off as the girl being so obnoxious there was no way she wouldn't know everybody's business – she knew Quinn was lying.
Knew because at the moment of truth, the time of choice, Quinn had looked frantically at her group of friends, searching… for the one that wasn't there.
The one who had chosen to stay behind and watch Vocal Adrenaline's performance.
And at that moment of choice, Mercedes knew she had come in second.
She thought about it while Quinn had been squeezing all the blood out of her fingers while she was squeezing a life out of herself, and she wondered what it would be like to be first choice.
Even her friendship with Kurt had come loaded with choices, and the fact that she would never be one for him, at least not romantically. And then there had been Puck, with his swagger and his smile, and that hat perched in tandem with his attitude – cocky.
What would it be like to be chosen first, out of all other possibilities?
She didn't want a friend, because, well, Kurt. He was her kind of diva, the best guy to sit around during manicures and gossip with; the best kind of guy to go shopping with (even though she didn't really listen to anything he said because, seriously, her clothes were already fabulous) and, on the nights when things got a little too rough in Mercedes' head, Kurt's was the ideal shoulder to cry on.
So he was her first choice as friend at WMHS, and she knew she was his.
But what would it be like to have someone who was more than just a friend?
What would it be like to have someone who wasn't interested in just clothes or sex? Someone interested in her mind, in her heart, in how much she wanted to sing and how much she wanted to be more than just one sustained note at the end of a song?
Could there be, she wondered, someone for Mercedes Jones who wasn't just trying to improve his image, wasn't gay, a guy who could take her out to dinner and to the movies, a guy she could introduce to her parents, take to church? A guy with whom she could share the innermost part of her heart, the question that she hadn't yet been able to ask anyone.
Be my friend.
Love me.
That was a big problem in Mercedes' life, the one she thought about the most, if she was being honest, but she also knew it was the least of her worries. Which is why, as she stood in the doorway to the hospital room and watched tears streak down pink cheeks, she began the slow break down – three, two, one – and three months after Quinn had rejected her mother's offer to come home, and went back to Mercedes', three months of listening to her friend cry herself to sleep, three months of watching Quinn lose the baby weight to slip back into her armor of red, three months of watching hazel eyes lose their sparkle…
Rachel showed up at Mercedes' front door, hands twisting in her front of her nervously, still unsure about the other girl's invitation. But Mercedes shot her a reassuring grin, and even Quinn smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. Rachel relaxed once she'd changed into her pajamas and was sitting next to the couch (Mercedes considered herself clever and begged off for the chair, saying there wasn't enough room on the couch for the three of them) with Saw playing on the television. It turned out Rachel had a love for horror movies, and more than once Mercedes shot Quinn an incredulous look, glancing back at Rachel's wide, entranced eyes. Quinn had just shrugged and chuckled, and it didn't escape Mercedes' notice that at some point the girl had settled against Rachel's side.
And Rachel didn't seem to mind.
Mercedes dreamed of a tall, dark-haired boy, strong-shouldered and comforting. She couldn't see his face, didn't know his name, but it was enough.
Rachel's sleeping bag was argyle. After enough good-natured teasing from the other two girls, she stopped pouting and allowed Quinn to paint her nails, but only after Quinn agreed to use the sparkly purple, and not the Cheerios red she'd originally picked. "It's the principle of the thing," Rachel pointed out, which had caused Quinn to wince, and Mercedes tensed, ready to jump to her blonde friend's defense.
But then Rachel had squeezed Quinn's fingers in hers and the hand holding the polish brush trembled.
This time, Quinn's smile lit up her eyes, and Rachel's mirrored it.
It was after midnight when they finally settled in to sleep, Mercedes in her bed and the other two girls in sleeping bags on the floor. Rachel had objected, saying that Quinn needed to rest comfortably and should be in her own bed; in the guest room that Mercedes' mom had insisted was not for guests but for family, but her mouth had snapped shut at one glare from a pair of icy hazel eyes.
"Still got it," Quinn smirked, and Rachel huffed – with a twinkle in her own eyes.
She was just drifting off to sleep, lulled by the sound of Quinn and Rachel whispering together, talking about Glee and planning a trip to the mall, when Mercedes heard Quinn tease Rachel about her love of gore, and Rachel snap back "Better not go to sleep, Fabray, you're sleeping next to a serial killer, apparently."
And Quinn erupted into giggles which turned into loud guffaws, which quickly gave way to sobs.
Mercedes sat up in the darkness, squinting, to see Rachel move closer, a hand on the girl's back.
"Was it the movie?" Rachel asked worriedly. "It was just a movie, Quinn; I won't let anybody hurt you."
"No, it's not that, I just… I can't…"
Rachel moved even closer, her arm sliding around Quinn's shoulders. "You're okay. I'm here."
"I'm sorry, Rachel, I'm so sorry…"
"Shh. I—I meant what I said, Quinn."
"What?"
"I won't let anybody hurt you."
Mercedes lay back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling and dreaming of strong warmth next to her, listening as Quinn's sobs evened out then subsided.
Listened as Rachel sang to her, softly.
The next morning, Mercedes woke up first. A quick glance over the edge of her bed found Quinn fast asleep, tear stains still evident on her cheeks, her head snuggled onto Rachel's shoulder. Rachel was awake, staring up at the ceiling. She caught Mercedes' gaze and seemed startled, worried, but Mercedes just smiled.
After a minute, Rachel smiled back.
That Monday at school, the flavor of the day was cherry.
Quinn slushied Rachel at 9:45 a.m.
As she walked away, she looked at Mercedes, and the diva wasn't surprised to see tears. She saw the same in Rachel's eyes, just before the girl grabbed her "emergency kit" (which had lain dormant for almost a year) and rushed to the bathroom.
Mercedes shook her head.
Women.
She followed Rachel into the bathroom. The sound of hitched sobs reverberated against the walls; Rachel clung to the sink, cherry syrup dripping off her hair and into her eyes, her arms shaking with the effort of holding herself up.
Mercedes grabbed the folding chair and moved Rachel aside, patting the seat. Rachel stared at her, uncomprehending.
Mercedes shrugged. "Jesse changed things."
Rachel sat and leaned back with her head on the sink.
Mercedes washed her hair in silence; it was only when Rachel had changed her clothes then exited the stall that she spoke.
"Are you ever lonely?"
Mercedes blinked, taken aback.
Rachel twisted her soiled clothes in her hands. "You're so strong and so confident… and you're such a great singer, though, admittedly, not on the level as I am." Mercedes just smirked, grateful that at least the diva wasn't crying anymore, much.
"And you seem like you're never lonely. With your family and… and with Kurt, and… and with Quinn." Rachel blushed and looked down at her feet.
"Sometimes I wish I could be you."
Mercedes shook her head at the girl for the second time that day.
"Sometimes I wish I could be you."
Rachel tilted her head in confusion. "Why?"
"You have someone who wants to be in love with you."
She left the bathroom and imagined a knight in shining armor, coming to her defense.
Quinn drove them home in complete silence, something Mercedes was used to. Quinn parked in the Jones' driveway and Mercedes had her seat belt off and her door open when the words stopped her.
"I'm not strong enough."
Mercedes closed her door. "Strong enough for what?"
Quinn rested her head on her window. "For her."
"Maybe you two could be strong enough together."
Could one plus one ever equal just one?
"I don't know how." Quinn wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. "All I know is how to be mean."
Mercedes reached across the console and grabbed her friend's hand. "I know that's not true, and so do you."
Quinn just nodded.
Three hours later, Rachel once again knocked on the door of the Jones' house. This time, Quinn answered it, and before Rachel had a chance to step inside the threshold, she was pulled into an embrace. Mercedes chose that moment to come out of the kitchen with popcorn and stopped, watching as Rachel's arms flailed a little in the shock, before coming to wrap around Quinn's waist, holding lightly.
She couldn't hear the words, didn't want to hear the words, but as they pulled away Mercedes could see the small smile on Quinn's face, and the look of hope in Rachel's eyes.
And that was enough.
Rachel came over every day after that.
A month later, Mercedes walked down the hall one afternoon after glee practice; she rounded the corner and stopped at her locker, unnoticed by the other two girls standing just feet away. Mercedes could see them, just out of the corner of her eye as she grabbed her books and stowed them away in her bag. She watched, a half-smile on her face, as Rachel said something and Quinn's laugh sounded loud and musical in the hallway. Quinn's hand was steady, unwavering while she tucked a brown curl behind an ear; Rachel's smile was radiant as she tilted her head to receive the kiss.
And then it was Quinn's hand in Rachel's as they left Mercedes behind and walked out of the front doors of William McKinley High School, into a cool Ohio autumn.
Three, two, one, Mercedes thought, shouldering her bag and waiting a couple of minutes before she headed out the door towards Kurt's car. Take the biggest problems in life and break them down, little by little, until only one is left.
A girl and a boy and a baby. The boy moved on to other games and other girls; the baby had her new life and a new mama, in a town three hours down the road.
The girl? The girl held her wounds and love close to her heart, a heart which she shared with only one person.
A knight in shining argyle.
And if Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry had taken practically forever to realize that what they really needed was each other?
It was okay, Mercedes decided.
Now they knew.