The Residue
Mercedes was actually still exhausted after church, but it did take some getting used to when one had to change up her entire routine after years of doing things exactly the same way. Kurt assured her that he and Tina would be coming to Kentucky within the next few days to bring her enough clothes and a portable closet, to give her a bit of comfort. She could hardly wait for their visit, as it seemed to her that it had been an extremely long time since they enjoyed each other's company.
Sam returned Joe's call and apologized right away, "Mercy and I got away for a time and we've been spending the past couple of days familiarizing her with my family and trying to rest in between…"
"I understand. There is very little more important than when a man brings a woman that he loves home to his family. Are you free to speak at length, right now?" Joe wondered.
"Sure. I'm rather curious as to what this is about," Sam said, watching Mercedes slip out of her church outfit to prepare to wash up. He adjusted himself and made an effort to turn away, so that her image wouldn't distract him from his conversation.
"It's about Matt Rutherford," Joe said. "About punishing the innocent and about forgiveness."
"Umm… I don't understand," Sam said.
He could hear that little side smile in Joe's voice as he announced, "I'm calling to remind you to try to forgive Matt for how he's behaving." Sam blinked as Joe continued, "I know that it was wrong of him to do what he did to you, and especially to Mercedes, who we can all agree has not ever and would never harm a soul… but I want to be sure that you realize that people who expect forgiveness of others should be willing to forgive others, as well."
"Joe…" Sam began and stepped outside, because he would prefer to tell Mercedes about this, later, when he had all of whatever Joe's point was, "I can forgive people for doing things to me all day long, but when he dragged Mercedes into this…"
"In his mind, he's doing to you what you did to him," Joe explained. "I don't know every single detail, but when the Festival was ending and people were packing up, I went to talk to him. I told him that I was only interested in knowing how he was feeling and if he needed my help or counsel with anything. He refused counsel, but he did inform me that he is waiting on you to come to him and that until you do, he is going to continue to do to you what he feels that you did to him – attack the people that he loved the most."
"So, he wants me to come to him and do what?" Sam asked.
"I don't know. Face him, I suppose. But, if he's serious about his intentions, to keep targeting the people who matter to you – I am worried that when you do face him, that you'll face him with anger and vengeance. I don't want you to face him that way for more than one reason, but the main reason is because unless he does something illegal to you or anyone else, you technically aren't a victim. He seems to have clear understanding of the law and he doesn't seem like he will do anything to step outside of it. If you go to him trying to make him pay for targeting your friends, you could be arrested and sent back to prison."
"I have a temper," Sam said.
"Yes, I've discovered that," Joe said with a smile.
"But, one of the things that really gets to me is when someone goes after someone else when they should come after me," Sam told Joe. "I'm giving Matt Rutherford some leeway, because I was there when his family was killed and I know that's going to eat at him for a long time… but Mercedes' friends barely like me. I mean, they just started being nice to me, right after the flier incident. Technically, as far as I know – we've been friends for a few days."
"I think that you realize that simply isn't true. They have eaten with you, taken you in, worked alongside of you, laughed with you and talked with you. Normal people can't keep something like that up on a daily basis for a stretch of time and not mean it," Joe said. "And I loved you from the moment we met."
"Have you gotten some flack?" Sam asked, worried.
"We've had visitors," Joe said with a sigh. "Mostly people who have somehow discovered the tension between you and Shane and they wanted to share some words with Shane."
"Wait, wait, wait… Shane's been targeted for not being my friend?" Sam asked. The thought that he might have supporters on the outside hadn't really crossed his mind, beyond the few people that got to know him through his ties to Mercedes.
"Matt unintentionally gave you both enemies and friends," Joe said. "Though, he posted a personal apology on his site for his harsh words against the others... but he named them by name and mentioned where they worked." Sam went completely pale. That meant that if anyone had their sights set on making someone suffer, they now had a list of targets – and all of them were Mercedes' friends. Joe mentioned, "I was told that you'll be out of town for a month, but it may be wise of you to try to at least pass back through before then. I'm guessing that you're four hours or so away… I don't know what part of Kentucky."
"Tell him that I'm visiting my family, and I have every intention of returning. Please don't tell him that my family is in Kentucky. Let him know that I'll be gone for a while and that I'm simply trying to keep Mercedes out of the danger that he's stirring up for her – though you might word that differently – and that when I get back into town, he is the first person that I intend to see. Joe, if you have his ear, could you try to get him to see reason and to leave everyone else alone?"
"Sam, you should already know, from knowing how I am, that I have tried that. I don't know what else to say, but to try to get you to understand that to him you are the man who, in his estimation, got away with killing every single person in his home. May I ask you a personal question, Sam?"
"If anyone can, you can, Joe," Sam answered.
"If your mother, father, and siblings had all been killed by a group of people, and one of them didn't actually do it, but approved, would you want to ever see him free?" Joe asked.
"I'm not free, Joe. I am going to be affected by this for the rest of my life…" Sam said.
"I can understand how such a fate is the one that you see in front of you, but that's not what I asked. I'm asking… are you or are you not a man who believes in vengeance?" Joe asked. Sam thought about how he handled Cooter and how he handled Jesse. Hell, if he was Matt Rutherford, he would have killed Sam on day one or two of freedom. "I just want you to try to empathize when you face him. I'm told that when you faced Shane, you had remorse and you were open to everything that he had to say."
"Shane had done what I would have. He saw me, he attacked me, he fought me, because I was the one who hurt him. Matt is doing…"
"What you did to him, only in a less brutal, more cunning way," Joe finished the sentence.
Sam uttered, "If I care about any of them… I'd just stay away from them, wouldn't I?"
"I don't know that that's a correct assumption," Joe told him. "I think that they would have been safer if you hadn't become close to them; but now, you are close to them. You're on the inside and they're going to have to go through this, even if you withdraw from them. They've been tagged."
"Yeah, but not touched. I mean, if I get away from them now, they might have a chance. If I keep things going with Mercedes, she's going to end up hurt or dead or heartbroken," Sam said, with his chest tight.
"Not necessarily, Sam. Have some faith. You pray every day. Go to God with these fears and let Him have and handle them. I will relay your message to Matthew. I will keep praying for you and for him and for the entire situation. You, please remember what I've said. Try to understand it from his perspective. Try to think of what you would do if you were him." Sam agreed to do so, but he knew that it would take some heavy concentration and prayer in order for him to be able to forgive anyone for doing anything to endanger or hurt Mercedes.
When he came back into the room, he knew that he should walk the dogs and make sure that they were able to relieve themselves, so he peeked in to let Mercy know that he would be doing just that, then went to do it, while he allowed Joe's words keep going through his mind.
Santana and Brittany were walking together when a white male approached and asked her, "Aren't you that girl who gave the PSA to the KKK?" Santana folded her arms and just studied him for a moment. He looked beyond suspicious. "I just wanted to let you know: "You have no idea what we are capable of. You have no idea how far out and how deep inside we can reach." Oh, and we are not the KKK. That's just silly. Have a good day!
Santana felt her heart rate speed up when the man whispered the threat, but she kept her eyes focused on him and studied his every feature. As he walked away, she called Matt to tell him. Hell, the police were just going to tell her that unless he actually threatened to do something that they couldn't do anything about it. Brittany was tightly clenching Santana's shirt, more afraid than she thought, as she watched the man disappear into the crowd.
They left the mall to go to meet up with one Andrea Cohen. Matt rarely ever came when called. He was paranoid that someone might follow him, find out where he operated and destroy his life's work. Santana would have preferred not to have to deal with the woman, but she knew that Andrea was Matt's closest friend and confidant. Andrea sat at the table and smiled tightly at Santana. "He sent me with the database of known racists in the area," she opened the laptop towards Santana and added, "We've isolated those that fit the description that you gave him, but if you don't find the one that you're looking for, feel free to continue to the others."
"How are you, Andrea?" Brittany asked the woman, but she rolled her eyes and smiled tightly. "I hope you're alright. And thank you for coming to deal with this. I know that you'd probably rather not deal with me or Santana."
"This isn't about my personal life, Brittany," Andrea told her. "Just, look through the pictures and see if you see the guy that threatened you. The words that he said to you are words that were found in one of Mrs. Rutherford's emails shortly before the family was killed. Santana, you may have barked a little louder than you were ready for."
Santana took a deep breath and continued to scroll through the photos, "Britt – are you looking through these with me, or are you going to have chit chat with your ex?" Brittany seemed like she had to think about it, and Santana now rolled her eyes and said, "Matt has some people in this database that I've never known to be racist."
"And how often do you have to deal with racism, Santana? I mean, I know that here and there you'll be subjected to a taco truck joke, but other than that, you're pretty much left alone. That is until you opened your mouth to try to be tough. You grew up in Lima Heights Adjacent, but you shook that place off as soon as you stepped out of it," Andrea said. "I mean, I grew up in a fancy neighborhood, went to the best schools in the area, graduated with honors from Carmel, awarded academic scholarships and not talent based ones, and Brittany's family still embraced you quicker than they ever were going to embrace me." She smiled and winked.
"This is him," Santana said. "Isn't this the guy, Britt?"
"That guy looks too young," Brittany said.
"This is an older photo," Santana said, "But that's definitely the guy. He's blonde now, and had on glasses, but it most definitely was this Thad guy." She said, pointing to the screen and turning it back towards Andrea.
Andrea clicked on the photo to open his file and typed in Santana and Brittany's report against him. "Thank you, Ladies. We'll see how Matt decides to handle this from here. In the meantime, I suggest keeping an eye out and not being home alone. Make sure that you aren't being followed and be mindful of where you are when it's dark."
"That seems like I'm catering to this threat," Santana fussed.
"You are, because we already know that these people are capable of doing horrible things. All that we know that you're capable of doing is stealing people's girlfriends and flapping your lips." Andrea put the laptop away and concluded, "And while that works on high school girls at the bottom of the social totem pole; in these people's world, your talk means nothing."
Mercedes was in the kitchen, with Mary handing her different cups and spoons, "Uh.. tablespoon… 1/3 cup… 1/3, no, ½ teaspoon?"
"You really do learn quickly," Mary said. "You'll be a regular Susie Homemaker in no time."
"It is going to blow Quinn's mind when she finds out that I'm learning to bake!" Mercedes said, excitedly. Stacie and Stevie were at school and Dwight was at work; so it was just Mercedes and Mary, with Sam working diligently in his journal.
When Can You Feel the Love Tonight began to play, Mary said, "Oh, look – Quinn's calling. I suppose it's time for a break."
Sam reached for the phone as Mercedes defended, "It may be Tina. They have the same ringtone…"
"It's Quinn," Sam said as he answered it. "Hi, Quinn."
"Hello, Mr. Evans. I am attempting to reach Mercedes regarding some business decisions that only she is allowed to make," Quinn said in her professional tone.
"Yes, Ma'am!" He cheered and announced, "Miss Fabray calling about business." Mary helped Mercedes to the table and went back to her baking.
"Hey, Q. What's up?" Mercedes asked. "Uh huh… Wait, wait, wait… why are you making this call instead of Lauren? I'm still paying her right?" Mercedes asked, not to be mean, but the main reason that they had hired the extras was because Quinn was having problems handling all of the side work and the main position, simultaneously. "Oh my God! She did? When? Why didn't anyone tell me that?" Sam's head quickly snapped towards her and he looked concerned, but she couldn't see him, so he lightly tapped her hand. "Someone smashed into Lauren's car and she's in the hospital," Mercedes told him. Sam took a swallow and shut his journal, as Mercedes said, "Send her something from Sam and I… Yeah, that sounds good. You can use my signature stamp for the bill payments. I am only going to be using the card attached to my vacation account, because I don't want to go into any other finances for this trip, so you don't have to worry about balancing out any of the store accounts with what I'm doing here. But, make sure that Santana gets with me each day to confirm that what I'm spending here matches up with what's being taken out… Where in the world is Santana?"
After Quinn was done, Mercedes asked, "Is there any reason why you're still keeping stuff away from me? My main assistant has been hospitalized. My purchasing and accounting manager has taken some time off, and you're unsure when she'll be back. Are Sunshine and Becky still there? Ok, good – so there are employees… Sunshine put in her two weeks' notice. Quinn. What in the actual hell is going on out there?" Sam's leg could not stop shaking. He knew what was going on. He remembered Rick and the guys orchestrating little accidents, mishaps and false alarms in the weeks leading up to the Rutherford assignment… He unconsciously tapped his hand nervously against the table as Quinn talked to Mercedes.
"Are they being harassed, intimidated and threatened?" Sam asked. Mercedes put a hand up to silence him, and now he got up and started pacing. Mercedes was listening to whatever Quinn was saying, but not responding how someone would, not responding how she would if Quinn was giving her the kind of terrors that were rushing through his mind. Either he was overreacting or Quinn was not telling Mercy something.
"How's Puck?" Mercedes asked. Sam's face grew red as he glanced at his mother and she was watching him, curiously. He tried to pretend that he hadn't reddened in the face and just put his head down, when he noticed that his hands were shivering and he clenched his fists to try to still them.
Mercedes announced to Sam and Mary, "I have to have my mail read to me so, I'll have to take my baking lessons another time."
"I understand," Mary said. Sam just took a seat next to her, and started scribbling different things on his scratch papers as she listened to the things that she had to respond to. "Pay that one in full," she would say, or she might say, "Waive the delivery fee on that since we failed to tell him about the long wait for the product." "Take it out of the special needs customers' fund. If you aren't sure about the books on that, just make notation of it and file it on Santana's desk. That one can wait." "I ought to be back by the May Flowers sale. Check with Santana to see when she usually orders the flowers for that. This year, I want to make sure that we have the entire yard circling the building with flowers available by Mother's Day."
She was on the phone with Quinn for another hour, until she asked, "Is there anything else? Ok, then. Thank you so much, and remember to tell everyone that I love them. Yeah, him too," she said and hung up.
"Him who?" Sam asked, trying not to sound as angered as he felt by hearing her say that.
"Puck," she answered simply, and changed the subject. Sam didn't notice how Mary watched that small interaction as Mercedes said, "So, some old lady smashed into the side of Lauren's car and she's in the hospital. She'll be alright, but she had a head injury and whiplash. She'd apparently just gotten into her car and wasn't even in her seatbelt yet when some woman thinks she's in drive to pull out of her parking spot and hit reverse instead, and smashed into the car, full force. Quinn said Santana had some "personal stuff" going on, so she took time off. Now, Sunshine has put in her two weeks' notice and Quinn's response is that she has some personal stuff going on, and I know that she's hiding something from me, but I can't do anything from here, anyway."
People had been coming by and into the store all week giving Kurt and Tina a hard time. There were a few reporters to stop by and some bullies asking them how they slept at night supporting a man who hated people like them? So, they hired the security to be present during store hours, as well and the problem had ended. They would be escorted to and from their vehicles and the building was always guarded. Even at the community center, someone had cut down the tree in the front that had been carved into a cross and had been the trademark of the building since Shane opened it. That, and rocks had been thrown through the windows, fortunately, not while the children were there. Kurt was ready for this mess to blow over. He could hardly believe that he and Tina were facing this much crap. He hadn't gotten this much abuse for being the only openly gay kid in high school!
Tonight, they went to their respective homes and finished packing up their stuff. Mercedes had asked them all to stay with Emma for a little while, and they had agreed to do so, but only to make her feel better about not coming back when this was "her fault." Mike and Tina took separate vehicles to Emma's and she could not be sure, but she thought that she saw someone following her car. Tina recorded the license plate to her phone, then called Mike and told him about this. So, they pulled off to a restaurant and met each other in the parking lot. Tina caught a glimpse of the vehicle, continuing and could have sworn that it was her father; but she had not seen him in years in person, and she couldn't imagine him looking for her for anything today.
Mike asked her, "Did you see something?"
"It looked like my father," she answered, honestly. "Should we wait a little while before we continue?" They elected to have a little dinner before heading to Emma's, and when Tina saw Kurt's number on her phone, she guessed that he must be wondering what was taking her so long. She answered, "Hey, Kurt – we were being followed, so we stopped to get some dinner."
"We have found the cross," Kurt said. "It's burning in Emma's front yard. She is a mess right now, and the fire department is here; but I think that it's safe to say that they know exactly where we are."
"Well, there's still safety in numbers. Mike and I are on our way, right now." Tina summoned for the check as she told Mike, "They burned a cross on Emma's front lawn."
"That's still done?" Mike asked.
"Obviously, they decided to bring it back, if only for one night…" Tina said as her phone rang again and she answered, "Santana, we're on our way to Emma's right now."
"Tina… please…" She heard Santana whisper. "I'm in the trunk of a car. My phone woke me up and it was someone telling me to call you and tell you that I am in the trunk." The woman sniffled.
"What trunk?" Tina asked, rushing outside, throwing money on the table and freaking Mike out, even further.
"I don't know!" Santana cried. Tina went to her own car and knocked, and heard Santana scream. She opened it and the woman swung at her, but Tina quickly dipped back and avoided being hit. "Oh God, Tina!" Santana reached out and hugged her, crying.
Mike's eyes were wide as he said, "I don't think that these guys are playing and we need to be in some type of police protection." He pulled out his phone to make the call, about the suspicious car that was following them, then the trunk incident.
Santana shivered and sweated at the same time. Tina frowned and told her, "They're just trying to scare us. I'm so sorry that this happened to you."
Santana muttered, "I'm glad that Mercedes isn't here. It IS still decided that we are not going to tell her about any of this mess, right? She'll just come back to try to see about us, then she might get hurt."
Tina nodded and said, "No one has said anything to her or to Sam. I HATE it. I want to call her and hear her voice, so bad, but I'll just give everything away. It'll only be a few weeks. Mercedes has always pushed all of her feelings and wants aside for us. This is something that she needs to be away from, right now."
Matt and Will were speaking to each other, online, via satellite, which Matt, of course put on his website. Will was accusing, "I try to organize a friendly debate about where to draw the line when you've been a victim of violence, and you turn it into a personal attack to my character, by saying hateful things about even me. After everything that I've done to help you in the past, don't you feel that you at least owe it to me to not call me a racist?"
Matt countered, "No, I don't think that, at all. You are a racist and my father had some type of dirt on you before he died. Do not get me wrong, Schuester. I am not saying that you killed my father. I am saying that your ideology did. Let the record show that I never accused Will Schuester of killing anyone, and it is not hateful to call someone a racist, when they are. It's hateful to BE racist, and when the racist turns the conversation around to how offended or hurt that they are to be called a racist, that does not make them any less racist, no matter how sweetly you say it or how outraged you are at me using the inexcusable "R" word."
"What you have done to this blind woman and her family is inexcusable and despicable, don't you think?" Will asked.
"I think that it's despicable that people are Nazi sympathizers and all that I did to that woman and her friends is to expose that ugly fact about them. Now, even though they are, in fact Nazi sympathizers, I find it ironic how all of their attacks seem to come from Nazi involvement. Just tonight, someone abducted Santana Lopez and hid her in the trunk of her friend's car. This was only days after Miss Lopez received a face to face threat from this kid," Matt held up a photograph of Thad and said, "For a better look at him, I have him posted to the site as a known racist; but this Thad is a product of the environment that you help to create, Schuester. And even if he had nothing to do with Lopez's ordeal, he has already threatened her once and when he did, it was in response to a message that she sent out to the people who vandalized her place of business. That proves that he is among the racists."
"Racism is inexcusable. But, are you not just as bad as those whom you claim to hate, by bringing down on the heads of people who have done you no harm a furious wrath?" Will asked.
Matt exploded into laughter and pulled out a piece of cardboard with 'C'mon Son' written on it. "Boy, stop! Because I post to my site or create fliers calling a spade a spade and your brethren takes the information to seek out victims; that makes me as bad as people who beat eight year old children to death? Are you even serious, right now?" Matt pulled out his Free Nazi flier and said, "Everything on this flier is either the truth or speculation. This started out as a blog, and I decided to create the flier, because I had an event coming up. People post things much worse than this online all day every day. I have over 500 hilarious messages in my inboxes that say more hateful stuff than this and maybe 125 of those are going to be something constructive, perhaps. But, when we take our views to the streets, all of a sudden, it's hateful? A real man stabs you in the front."
"A real man stabs the blind?" Will asked, his eyes smiling at the seeming triumph that Matt's mouth was going to give him.
"Once again – the focus is shifted and the message is swept under the rug. I apologized to the woman for my associate handing her a stack of fliers, on my behalf. It was an attempt to embarrass her for what she's been doing. The actual act of aiding and abetting a Nazi freed from his rightful punishment did not seem to embarrass her at all, and yes – I did feel the need to show her what it feels like to be humiliated for being who you are, because she obviously has missed the fact that she is a black woman in the past however many years of her life that she's been alive. The struggle is real, and for someone to proudly denounce that is infuriating and shameful. Now, she knows and I wished that she would have done the right thing and allowed this man to go on his merry way, without her."
"You made her a victim!" Will accused.
Matt took a deep breath, "Let's start from scratch. All I did is tell either the truth or the truth as I see it. The people who came after her are people who were going to come after her any damned way the moment that they saw Sam Evans and realized who he was. So, you can eat every foul thing under the sun, if that's your biggest argument. She became a victim when Sam Evans came into her life and allowed her to get attached to him knowing what kind of people and what kind of mess might be following him around. She became a victim when she decided to help him, after knowing who he is and what he's done. All I did was point to her and say, 'There she is.' Then, something completely unexpected happened. All kinds of crazy racists came out of the woodwork to come down on her and her Free Nazi." Matt shook his head in disbelief. "I expected to see the minorities look at her and whisper 'shame' every time they saw her, but then these white supremacists show up and take the cake."
"So you say," Will now accused him, "When your family died, I tried to help you in any way that I could." "To save face," Matt interjected, though Will ignored it and continued talking, "But, I do remember that it was thought at that time that you were involved in the murders and that you used the alleged white supremacists as a…"
"Oh yes, trust me. I know the accusations. I went through years of college facing them and yes, I do still receive such accusations. That only makes my zeal for attacking the white power-power structure even greater. So, does that mean that all those who have come at me with their speculations and helped me to be as militant as I am are responsible for my actions today? No, because that would mean that you can't blame the black man for everyone's problems. I am responsible for my actions and I am willing to face whatever that may bring about. Every adult should share in that type of responsible thinking. I think that Miss Jones knows and knew when she signed on to do whatever it is that she's doing with Sam Evans that it could become messy and dangerous. She still decided to do it and I can't feel pity on her for making a decision that she has every right to make. What I can do is exercise my legal right to tell any and everybody exactly how I feel about her decision…"
Stacie bit her fingernails as Sam watched the program on her computer. Mercedes with Mary, trying to learn the kitchen, again. Sam knew that there had to be more than what Quinn told Mercedes, and decided that if anyone would be broadcasting someone's dirt, it would be Matt Rutherford. He still had the website from when he and Mercedes had watched Santana's ill-planned out message… and finding out that she had been abducted and thrown into a trunk and Quinn hadn't told Mercedes! That meant that he would have to tell her everything.
He did not waste any time. He went into the kitchen and didn't see Mercedes or Mary. The food was still cooking, so they couldn't be far. Sam went into the living room and saw Dwight and Stevie, talking about something or another. Dwight brightened up when Sam walked in and said, "Hey! They told me that you were doing something with your sister."
"Yeah, I was. Where's Mom and Mercy?" He asked.
"They went to pick up something else for the dinner," Dwight answered.
"Mercedes left here with Mom?" Sam verified. "But, she left her dogs in the room with Stacie and I?" He frowned and called Mercedes' cell phone and heard Science Fiction Double Feature play in the kitchen. "And she left her phone? What store did they go to?" He asked as he hung up.
"Most likely the one right up the road. What's wrong?" Dwight asked.
"Isn't it obvious? Sammy does trust his big bad white family around his little black toy," Stevie said. Sam came straight for him, but Dwight jumped in and held him back.
"I am so sick of your crap, Stevie!" Sam said and jerked himself out of Dwight's hold.
"Well, Sam… if you and Mercedes were in Ohio and she made a run with someone else, would it bother you this much?" Dwight asked him.
"I'm not bothered that she left. She left everything behind and that's not like her. I'd be worried if she left with her best-friend and she left everything behind," he said. Not really, because her friends were all such diehard fans of hers that she would be safer with any of them than anywhere in the world. "I just don't know that there aren't contacts here. I don't know that no one knows where you guys live and I don't know that she's safe out there."
"What's going on?" Dwight asked.
"I just found out that things have been happening to Mercy's friends, back home. It was chronic accidents and one mishap after another, pretending to be coincidences. Now, things are escalating." Sam went outside on the porch and sat on the steps, waiting for the truck to return, full of anxiety, the entire time. When the truck did pull up, he rushed to it and asked, "Y'all need help with anything?"
"Yeah, why don't you grab the bags so that I can help Mercedes inside," Mary suggested.
Casually, Sam said, "You left your phone, the dogs and you didn't say anything when you left."
"She was with me, Sammy. It's not like I was going to let something happen to her and I'm surprised at you, treating your girlfriend like a piece of property," Mary said. Sam frowned at her, handed her the bags and took Mercedes off of her arm. Mary scoffed and shook her head, "Really, Sam. Don't be possessive. Women don't find that attractive." But, Mercedes felt Sam's shaking hand rubbing her arm, affectionately. Oh, God… she had really frightened him.
When Mary was inside, Sam told Mercedes, "There have been incidents, back home. I'm worried about everyone and when I found out about it, I went to find you and you weren't there. I panicked. I'm sorry if I came across as possessive." Mercedes wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him, tightly. He squeezed her back and started saying, "I checked out this debate on Matt Rutherford's blog…"
"I don't want to know," she told him. "If they want to leave me out, I'm just going to let it happen." She spoke into his chest and told him, "I hate feeling left out and if I have to force my way in the know, that will make me feel more left out than thinking about the fact that they're not telling me things. Unless it has to do with POM, if Quinn left it out, I'm leaving it out, too. Your mother and I had a very interesting talk and it made me realize… I need to be sure that I focus on you."
"What do you mean?" He asked.
"We've been here for over a week, and every day, after I finish with my business with Lauren, Santana or Quinn, I start playing with my dogs and call my friends up during lunch break and read and listen to music and try to learn how to use an oven and a stove… I just want to dedicate more time to you." She tipped upward to kiss him and he gratefully accepted and returned her affection, still caught up in rapture every time their lips touched.
Mercedes was an extremely touchy-feely person, but she was not overly affectionate, usually. When Sam reached for her, he could feel her sometimes tense up, until she realized that he was only trying to touch her, to hold her. For the one who originally initiated sex, she certainly was not a sexual person and seemed uncomfortable about it when Sam seemed to be making a move in that direction. It could be frustrating, but he tried to take into consideration that she did not have much experience and when they had been together – if he would be honest with himself, it was not the right time.
That night, as he held her against himself and stroked her hair, she whispered, "Can you imagine us lasting for a long time?"
"Yes," he said, "It's one of my favorite things to imagine."
"Even with my lack of experience, my overbearing friends, my shady mental condition, routines, habits and our pasts?" She asked.
"Where did all of this come from?" He wondered. She didn't answer. "Did my mother say something to you?" He asked.
"She gave me things to think about," she said quietly.
"Try not to think about anything regarding us that did not come out of you or me," he said and kissed her on the head.
"Does it upset you that we haven't had sex since the time that we did?" She wondered.
"No… not upset. I would love to be able to have you like that, again; but I respect you enough to wait until you're ready. Mercedes, I promise you that I am giving you full control of the pace of us. I want you when you want me," he told her. "And all of that lack of this and that is just obsolete, because there isn't anything that I didn't realize about how things would be when I decided that I was willing to walk through fire for you. I never want to hear you say something against yourself and try to push it on me again, okay?"
"I didn't mean to. I guess that I just got used to being reminded of my flaws when things weren't right with a relationship," she said it without any emotion, but Sam knew better. This was some of that sh*t that Puck left behind.
"I'm not Puck, and I don't want to be compared to him. You will never hear me compare you to anyone else or expect from you anything outside of who I know you to be… Don't let Puck's grime sully up what you think of me or of us."
"I'm sorry. It's…" she sat up, but he pulled her back into his arms and rubbed on her back. She continued talking from there, "It's like my mind sometimes doesn't realize that I'm out of that. I know that you aren't Puck and you have never given me any reason to doubt how you feel, but my brain wants to convince me that I need to watch out for your disappointment, or for my own failure and shortcomings. I kind of feel trapped in that mindset, on some days… particularly on days that I'm reminded of the things that I can't or haven't done for you." WTF had Mary Evans said to Mercedes? Sam was more than a little bit pissed off that she had planted these seeds of insecurity. They would have to have a talk…
"I understand what you mean, Mercy." He stroked her hair and felt her tears on him. He knew that she was a strong person, but now, he was seeing her cry again. That meant a great deal to him – because she obviously felt secure enough around him to let her guard down and to show her vulnerable side, but he hated for her to cry out of sorrow.
"The same thing happens to me. Today, Stevie made a comment and I was going to slap him across both sides of his face, on repeat. That's what I would have done on the inside if I thought that my pride was being challenged before an audience. You don't let anyone see your weakness, especially after you've established that you can handle yourself. I'm a gentle person, but I still sometimes want to respond that hard way to certain things. That's what happened with Jesse.I've managed to leave behind most of my hate, but then there's the whole aspect of the fact that I was an inmate from the time that I was a 16 year old boy until a few months ago. Figgins said that the years that I was missing were ones in which people generally figure out who they are. I missed a lot of real world development and it was all replaced with the harsh, grimy reality of prison life and for someone like me, prison life is no quote unquote hard time.
For somebody like me it was a death trap, bound by hate and iced over with abuse and self hate and destruction. It's hard for guys who had the chance to become men in the free world to get used to returning to it. I became a man in a place where men were made into animals, or at least felt that way, because we were always in a cage. That world in itself is a completely different world to have to be conditioned to live outside of and to get out of the chains of, even when they open the doors and tell you that you can go. I let myself feel trapped in that mindset, then when I came face to face with Jesse, I treated him how he would have been treated on the inside… Well, technically, he would have been raped on the inside, probably repeatedly. If I was someone's…" Sam shut his mouth and paused his hands from rubbing her.
"I thought that something like that might have happened to you. You had several signs, and being best friends with people with pasts, I could tell something like that was in yours. Did they ever tell you why they're so afraid to leave me alone when something stressful is going on? Or why Quinn is so adamant about me taking my pills, even though I have literally not had an emotional episode in over five years?"
"No one has said much about that."
"Do you want to know?" She asked in a tiny voice.
"I want to know everything that there is to know about you," he told her as he stared at her face, in the darkness. He knew that she would be able to feel his eyes and attention on her, and he wanted to grant it to her.
"Maybe if I get some of this stuff out in the open, I won't have to feel so insecure about any of it," she said before telling him about every single suicide attempt that she had ever made, why, and why she eventually quit. Sam let out a breath that neither of them knew how long he held and he pulled her tightly to himself.
"I understand so much more, now," he said. She didn't know how to take that. Was that a bad understand or…? "When you and Puck met and got into the thing that would last for years and pretty much soil everything in your path, you were in that before state."
"Before?"
"Before they opened the doors and told you that you could go," he said. "You were imprisoned in that depression and the pain that you felt when you lost both of your parents and blamed yourself. You were trapped in it for all of that time, even outside of the institution; but after that last time, you had an epiphany and the doors of your prison were opened and you were free to go… but, every time you turned to look at it, you saw Puck there, and you did what he did at the institution – you kept going back in so that you two could be together. But he was trapped there. You were free to go, and you continued to keep yourself there." Sam lifted her face to his and said, "I hope that you can realize that you're free, now. You're free, with me." He kissed her and she moved closer and closer to him.
"Sam… I love you, so much . How do you see me the way that you do? Nobody has ever said anything like that to me, and nothing that anyone has ever said about me has ever made such sense to me…" Her hands were on his face, feeling, touching, and seeing him.
"I see you as the reflection that I would see in the mirror, if I wasn't always so distracted by what I look like," he whispered. Mercedes fell onto the bed and pulled Sam on top of her body, reaching for his clothes. Sam's entire body was already hot, and unlike before, this time it seemed… right, perfect. "Do you want me to get the blindfolds?" He asked.
"No. I want you to be yourself, this time," she said, as she squirmed out of her night clothes. Sam trembled along with his heavy breathing as he retrieved his protection and removed his clothes. But, before any of that, she did need to know how much he appreciated her, every single portion of her. Everything else in the world disappeared and he hoped that he would be kissing away any of the "prison sleaze" that covered both of them. Tomorrow, he would read her his experiences. He had a feeling that was the last bit of secrecy between the two of them.