The Reckoning

Mercedes wore red and gold to church that morning. She was radiant in it and came into the church, ready to praise the Lord. The shop was closed on Sundays, but she would be having friends over, as she typically did. This would be Sam's first Sunday with the group and she hoped that it would be alright. After she and Quinn had coffee and treats, Quinn brought her home, but she couldn't sleep. She kept thinking about what Quinn said about the way that Sam looked at her. It reminded her of what Sam had said about the way that Quinn looked at him. If the manner in which someone looked at someone so heavily influenced connections, she would never find anyone.
No wonder she had spent most of her post pubescent life being a boyfriend and husband trainer… She would take these seemingly hopeless guys that sighted girls just didn't want at all, help to build them up and change their lives, help them to become functional members of society and confident members of the male sex… and pass them along , so that they could find the sighted girl of their image filled dreams.

Artie was precious, no doubt. He still was one of very few people who could make her smile or laugh, no matter how she felt; but he had this complex where he wanted to connect with someone who could look past his wheelchair (not someone who simply couldn't see it)… Personally, she thought that he had an inferiority complex and just didn't want anyone who had a disability of her own. Shane had been her best friend and they matched together very well, because opposites attract, but they fell apart because oil and water doesn't mix and if that fool would have given her another 2nd grade science analogy to describe their relationship… Puck had been the last damned straw.

Since the infamous fall from grace that landed he and Quinn with a beautiful now five year old that Mercedes simply adored, the woman was done with getting involved with people. She still took people in and cared for them, nurtured them and all of the above, but she did it in Christian love and as a friend… now Sam Evans was in her midst. He had only been around for less than a week and everything felt like it had been stretched out. There was a connection between them and she knew that when she met people, she always connected them to someone else and it brought her closer to them and made her feel more familiar with them (which helped her to help others without much abandon). With Sam, the connection was her father, and to some degree, it had been the same with Puck.

However, with Puck, she had fallen for the guy that he became after she met him and helped him to grow. With Sam, she was interested in the guy that lived inside of the person who went to prison. She was interested, not in the one that begged others to see his change, but the one that walked with her to the pond and did impressions for her. She was interested in that guy who liked comic books and could discuss them with childlike excitement, even though she would never be able to see one. That was who the real Sam Evans was and apparently, he only showed up when she was around. She wanted to dig him up and introduce him to everyone, even though she knew that would mean the world would get to adore him, too. Then, bye-bye, Birdie – because that's how it always was. That was why even though she did like him and enjoyed his company, she would never allow herself to entertain the thought of being with him, or anyone else.

Mercedes sang along with Diana Ross, as she and Quinn idled around the shop waiting for their friends for Sunday gatherings to show up, "Instinctively you give to me the love that I need. I cherish the moments with you. Respectfully, I say to thee, I'm aware that you're cheating, but no one makes me feel like you do…" They both heard the wind chimes of the front door and turned to greet whoever was entering.

Sam came into the shop with an older woman, with short gray hair and a stylish black pantsuit on. She was talking, smoothly and he looked uncomfortable, but was listening to everything that she said. Quinn gasped when she saw Sam. His face was bruised and he looked like he had gotten into a pretty bad fight… and totally lost. The woman called out to Quinn, "Mercedes Jones?" Quinn shook her head and pointed to Mercedes, who simply looked up, but did not turn in that direction. She was facing the door and trying to think of who the voice belonged to, and why Quinn gasped when they entered. The woman approached Mercedes and sat next to her, "Mercedes, I'm Sue Sylvester, we spoke on the phone a few nights ago."

Mercedes turned to shake her hand and kept her eyes lowered, as usual, but brandished her trademark smile. "Hello, Miss Sylvester. How can I help you?"

"My parolee here tells me that he's attempting to live in a community center. When I spoke with you, you told me that he would be living at this address," she said. There was something in the woman's voice, like she doubted the validity of something.

Mercedes nodded, "Oh, yes – initially that was the plan. I couldn't find anywhere to place him and I tried every contact that I have with that type of thing, so I let him stay a night in a room that I sometimes crash in for lunch, until a friend of mine offered to put him up elsewhere." Mercedes was starting to worry. Where was Sam? Had something happened and now she was being questioned? Could a parole officer even legally question somebody?

Sue looked down at her notes and said, "Noah Puckerman? Do you realize that he isn't authorized to allow someone to sleep in the community center?"

Mercedes said, "Oh, I could just call the owner and clear things up." Mercedes reached for her phone, but Sue's next words stopped her.

"I don't think so, Miss Jones. The owner did this to my parolee." She waved her hand towards Sam and Quinn cleared her throat. Sue looked from the busted up Sam to Quinn, to Mercedes looking blankly in her direction and said, "You can't even see him!" She turned on Sam and asked, "Did you explain to this woman the seriousness of taking you in?"

"I tried," he answered, sounding muffled.

Mercedes jumped off of her seat and said, "Sam? What happened?" She knew that type of talking. She had nursed enough battered people and fighters to hear the sound of an attacked mouth speaking. She rushed over and butterfly sensitively grazed his lip, which made him wince and shudder, at the same time - the fact that she would want to check on him, yet so delicately handle him, realizing that he was hurt. "Shane did that to you?" She asked, disbelieving. He backed his head away from her hands. "What did you do to him?" She asked Sam. Never was she one to judge, but she knew Shane well enough to know that he did not just have it in him to attack anyone maliciously. She had never seen it in all of the years that she had known him, but now, all of a sudden, he does this to someone?

"Nothing, today," he said. "But, I know him, from before." He lowered his head. "I hurt him, years ago when we went to school together. I hurt his leg. I messed up his leg."

Mercedes lip quivered and Quinn covered her mouth with both hands. Mercedes rushed off and shook her head, battling tears. Quinn rushed to check on her. Sue faced Sam and told him, "She doesn't look like she'll be taking you in. Where are you going to stay?"

"I'm gonna take care of it," he said and nodded.

"As soon as you have a place, you contact me and let me know where." She told him, "In the meantime, get your stuff out of my car." They went outside and he got his personals out and sat outside of the building with them.

Mercedes was crying into purple pieces of tissues and Quinn was rubbing her back. She shook her head and said, "I don't really need any comforting. I'm just a little shaken up. I've gotta check on Shane," she said and reached for her phone. "You go check on Sam."

"Go?…" Quinn fumbled over words and shook her head, "Mercedes, what is it that you see in this guy? We just found out that he hurt Shane – sweet and caring Shane that encourages and uplifts everyone! If what we heard is correct, THIS GUY made it so that Shane could not live out his dream of being a football star. Shane lost his scholarship and still walks with a limp! When are you going to STOP just overlooking things?" Quinn practically yelled.

"I overlooked it when you and Puck had sex under my roof. How quickly we forget! You think that what you did to me hurts any less than what someone does to someone physically?" Mercedes was glaring, not necessarily at Quinn, but in her direction and that look was definitely meant for her.

Quinn began to cry, now. Things had been this way between her and Mercedes every since Puck. She couldn't blame Mercedes. She did blame herself, but it hurt every single time this subject came up again. "I have to think about the fact that I hurt you every single day. Every time I look at my daughter, I'm reminded of how she came to be, at the demise of your relationship with Puck and I have wanted nothing but to make it up to you since it happened."

"I never asked you to make it up to me, Quinn, and I don't expect you to. But what I do expect is for you, as a friend that I chose to keep when, if you remember, everyone told me to throw you away, and as someone who works for me… to RESPECT my damned decisions!" Quinn rushed out of the bathroom and Mercedes sighed and called Shane.

Mercedes knew Shane from church and immediately had tried to help him cope with everything. He went to a very deep depression and fits of anger. He had to be institutionalized for a time. He and Mercedes dated for a little while after that, but eventually mutually agreed to break things off. She was too much of a free spirit and he was too much of a "worry-wart." He had this phobia that somebody white was going to do something to hurt her.

And now, after her call, he felt deeply conflicted and agitated about her having Sam Evans of all people, anywhere near her. Sam thought that he would be working that day and when Quinn went to "check on him," he listened to everything that she had to say, then asked her what work he had for the day. So, she just gave him something to do.

Sam was putting together a desk for delivery when he heard Mercedes' cheerful voice saying, "I've ordered delivery from Phatty Cakes for lunch, ladies and gentleman. Everyone's coming over and we're going to have a little session. Where's Sam?"

He couldn't hear the response, but he knew that it would have been 'He's been down in the basement all day.' Soon, he heard her feet and he took a deep swallow. He saw her come down the stairs and start walking and listening, closely. "Sam?"

"Yes, Miss Jones?" He replied.

She sighed and said, "Some friends are coming over and you need to be there."

"Mercedes… about this morning," he started.

"Upstairs in five minutes, please," she said and made her way back up, herself.

Sam came up and saw Puck, Joe, Artie, Tina, Kurt, Blaine, Santana, Quinn, and Shane. He froze as Mercedes leaned on Shane's arm, talking, then remembered the advice that Puck gave him and decided to face the guy. "Shane," he said. Puck and Joe, having been the ones to pull Shane off of Sam knew that he was pretty messed up, but all they had seen was blood. Now, they were seeing the full affect of those huge fists pounding into the man's face and he would probably have some permanent damage. Artie had witnessed the event, but was in no position to intervene, because of his chair. Tina momentarily looked downward, however, seemed to quickly remind herself that this guy was the Nazi and Shane was an excellent person. Santana simply looked on as Blaine and Kurt both looked horrified and Kurt felt genuinely bad for the guy. Sam waited as his eyes scanned all of the other pairs on him, then his focus returned to Shane Tinsley.

Shane looked at Sam and grew angry again, but Mercedes grabbed her friend's hand and he was able to calm himself and speak, calmly. "I told myself that if I was ever faced with you, I would simply ask you why you did what you did. That's now how I reacted this morning and because I didn't use my mind, I did something that is beneath me." Mercedes hands were affectionately and supportively stroking Shane's hands, keeping him calm, as he talked. It was distracting Sam from Shane, and he wanted to be prepared, in case Shane attacked again. But, Shane was saying, "So, now that I have your attention, why?" Tears welled in Shane's eyes and he asked, "Why would you take away someone's entire life?"

Sam wished that there wasn't a big audience here, but there was. Santana was watching him eagerly for an answer. He blinked and shook his head, "There is no reason. There's never a reason to lash out at somebody in hatred. I wasn't a reasonable person. I didn't care about you or your dreams, or your life. In fact, I remember hating you because you were going to get a scholarship and go on to do something with yourself, and I was going to be dead or in jail, as every decent teacher in the school system frequently reminded me."

It hurt like hell to admit these things out loud and to have to actually have to answer for things that he did to someone, personally. "And you were dating a white girl, so that enraged me even more, even though I wasn't even attracted to her, didn't really know her and couldn't have cared less about any detail about her."

"You really are the lowest form of bastard," Santana said and got up to leave.

Mercedes' head went in her direction, but she remained next to Shane, still holding his hand.

Sam lowered his head. The lowest form of bastard was exactly what he felt like. Trying to start over felt like opening his chest himself then, letting everyone everywhere take a stab at it. He now cared what his actions did to people. It now bothered him to hurt someone, especially for no reason. Things that he thought he would never be concerned about were the most important things to him. "I don't expect you to forgive me, Shane. Quinn told me today about how you took an old gym and worked your ass off to get people in the community to donate and volunteer and how now you help all these handicapped kids and children with defects and other issues. You were going to be great, no matter what. I'm sorry that I didn't want greatness for you and I'm sorry for what I did. If I could take it back…" He shook his head and looked at Shane, "But, I can't. I can never fix this."

Sam covered his mouth with a fist and shook his head. He was no longer even thinking about Shane and how he crushed his leg with a steel pipe. But he was thinking about that family, and about others that he had come across. Sobs were escaping him and guilt flooded over him. Up until now, he did not know that he might have to actually look a victim in the face and answer for his crime. Shane had been too depressed to try to press charges or anything, at the time. He didn't even discuss the attack until years later, and Sam knew that what he did to Shane wasn't the only time he had gotten away with a hate crime. Oh, God – what if he had to face every last one of those people? He deserved it. All of it. He needed to give them whatever closure he could, if possible.

Shane commented, "I wanted to be a big enough man to look at you and tell you I forgive you. I haven't grown like that. I look at you and I just want to hurt you and injure you. I want to take everything that means anything away from you. That's why everybody's here – to keep me grounded and to hold me accountable. So help me God, all I want to do is make you suffer! Because I suffered losing my scholarship and losing my position and losing the proper usage of my damned leg that you smashed repeatedly, while I was down!" Tears flooded from Shane's eyes and Quinn rushed to hug him tightly. He sniffled and shook his head. "I just wanted to see if I was a big enough man to forgive you. I'll give it more time and come to see you again, in the future." He got up and headed out.
Quinn's eyes were full of tears as she said, "Shane Tinsley is literally the sweetest man that I have ever known." She glared at Sam, then went to follow Santana upstairs and sat next to her in the stair rail. Santana was crying, herself. Quinn wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Mercedes reached a hand out and said, "Sam." He met her hand and they walked into the backroom, with everyone else watching them, silently. She sat down on the bed and said, "I know that probably seemed like a cruel thing to do to you and maybe I should have given you a choice, but…"

"I don't feel that way," he said. "I didn't give him a choice when I destroyed his leg and his life."

"As terrible as what you did was, God took it and used it for good. Shane has affected the lives of so many children like him and other children as well. I don't know that he would have or wouldn't have if he didn't have a handicap of his own, but everything worked out. That's not to say that I think everything everywhere should just be overlooked. I just think that everything happens for a reason, even the crazy mess." She quizzed his hand and said, "The others had to be there. They needed to see whether or not you really want to change."

"You couldn't see their faces. They're more upset with me now than they were. Now, it's personal, because they know that I hurt their friend. And, you… aren't you upset with me?"

"For something that you did years ago and you now feel bad about – no, I'm not. I'm upset that Shane's pain has been rehashed, I'm one of the people who was there for him when it happened, and I know how much it meant to him and how much it still affects him, to this day."

Artie rolled into the stock room and asked, "We still have unofficial group therapy scheduled. So, are you guys going to come eat with us, or…?"

Sam really didn't have an appetite, but he stood up and took Mercedes hand. He needed to reenter with her. He didn't think he could manage it, alone. There were all kinds of containers on the bar and everyone had plates of different items. When Sam reappeared, they all looked at him and Puck announced, "We half way expected you to say that you'd changed and storm out. Since you actually faced Shane and apologized, we're willing to try to accept that you're trying to change."

"It's a split decision," Santana commented. Tina nodded and Quinn just pressed her lips together and refused to even look in his direction.

Artie shrugged and said, "I just figured that the ass whupping you took this morning should have beaten every bit of hate the hell out of you." Joe covered his face with one hand and Tina snickered, reflexively. "Too soon?" Artie wondered.

Mercedes came out of the shop at lunchtime. Sam was leaning against the building, waiting for her. It became an unspoken – had been happening every day that week that when she went to lunch, alone, he simply followed.

Monday, he had did so, silently. She knew that he was there. She knew how his walk sounded and a couple of times, he made a little, accidental sound of breath or a grunt from his pain. She went to a coffee shop and sat alone, reading, while he sat at the bar, watching her. When she left, and went back to the shop, she opened the door and simply held it open for him (which let him know that she knew he was there)… he had a feeling that she might, even though she never acknowledged it.

Tuesday, she came out with Lauren, Becky and Sunshine. The three of them were laughing about something and when Sam began to head for them, Sunshine quickly scurried away, while Lauren grabbed Becky's arm and told Mercedes, "We'll see you in an hour." Mercedes walked into a barber shop, which perplexed Sam, but he followed her inside.

She called out, "Is Sandy here?"

"Yours truly is here! Surely it's not a time for my munchkins' trims already!" He said, then paused at the sight of Sam, "Or am I to do something with the mess on top of this poor, battered soul's head?"

"Sit down, Sam," Mercedes said.

Sandy asked, "What's your pleasure? A Mohawk could fix it…"

"No!" Mercedes said and shook her head.

"I could shave it all off," He said with a shrug.

Now, it was Sam's turn to object. He didn't think he ever wanted to look in the mirror and see such a thing again, especially not at this point in his life. Sandy picked up a catalog and set it in front of Sam, "I am a genius, but not a miracle worker. Point to a photo, and I'll do it for you." Sandy pushed his glasses up on his nose and began to talk with Mercedes about her dogs and the gift shop. There were some things that he needed ordering, blah blah…

"This one. That looks simple enough. It's short and it doesn't really have hair on the side," Sam said.

"You. Are. So. Simple," Sandy said and shook his head, reaching for his clippers. "Traditional buzz cut, it is… I'll leave a little bit on the tops and we could maybe gel it and tease it just a tad." Sam looked at him confused, but Sandy simply got to work on the cut, without further adieu.

Mercedes ran her hands through the finished product and said, "I like it."

"If you like it, I love it," Sam told her and watched her pay the man, then followed her out of the building. "Are you going to eat?" He asked.

"Oh… are you talking to me? I thought that maybe we had transcended words or something and I missed the memo," she said, with a smile. "What do you want to eat?"

"You know that I don't have any preferences or many frames of reference," he said, then chuckled at the fact that it rhymed, and repeated it in a rap style. She didn't crack a smile, and he became silent… then, she laughed.

"I'm glad that you're getting your sense of humor back. I was beginning to think that it had been a figment of my imagination." She led him to some place that was too well lit for his liking, because he was still bruised all over his face, but he was with her, so, he didn't care too much. She ordered them some focaccia bread, with extra tomatoes and a bowl of dipping owl and herbs. He had never had it before, but enjoyed it. They talked for the rest of lunch and when they returned to the building, she seemed to follow him around on his tasks, still talking to him. Quinn and Santana watched her. Becky and Lauren pretended not to see a thing.

Wednesday, she had lunch with the guys, so Sam didn't feel the least bit awkward in going along, even uninvited. When he followed her into the community center van, the rest of them just presumed that she had expected him.

Thursday, she had the dogs with her, and passed him Cluster's leash, without knowing that he was already reaching for it when he met her stride. They talked about his face starting to look slightly better, though still discolored and he thanked her for allowing him to come back into the backroom. It was never a problem for her, anyway.

"How is Shane?" Sam asked, when they reached the pond.

"He's better than he was. He'll be alright. I've known him for a while and I know that he'll be okay. He's a strong person." She was feeling around and counting her steps and Sam just watched her until she reached a tree and said, "Ah, there. She reached into her bag and took out a towel that she place on the grass and sat on.

Sam sat next to her and even though he would have liked to talk more to her, he didn't interrupt when she put on her file. He was actually quite pleased… she was playing the book of Acts. Mercedes reached into her bag and said, "I got you something when Lauren and I were on charity run yesterday afternoon." She handed him a book with a black resin cover, with leather inner lining and a cross on the front of it. He opened it and there were blank pages. "The guy at the store said that it could be used for journaling or sketching," she said. "But, I want you to do something for me."

"Anything," he said, with dam eyes focused on her and the book held tightly in his grateful hands.

"I want you to think back to when you can first remember being hateful to somebody, and I want you to begin a list. Write down the name of everyone that you can think of and write down every hateful act that you can remember. Can you do that for me?"

He swallowed. It would be hard, but, "Yes."

"Good. If you write it down, you're more likely to remember. And if you remember, you're more likely to learn from it." She reached into her bag again and handed him a pretty fancy looking fat pen. "The guy at the store said that it could be used for writing and drawing." Now, she began to pull some food out of her tote and hand him different containers.

"Thank you, again, Mercedes." She smiled at him and handed him a bottled water.