She couldn't understand what anyone was saying over the sound of blood rushing in her ears.

Stebbins was standing behind his desk, his face contorted with anger. Periodically he'd slam his fist on the wooden surface of the paper strewn tabletop. She heard that, the echo that rang out in the room, but still couldn't make out the words. She could see Sam's face, he was angry, too, though he wasn't looking at her. Their voices sounded like she was listening from underwater, muffled and wet.

For the first time, she wasn't awed to be in the nerve center of the White House. She hardly knew how she got there. Quinn remembered Sam holding her hand; that probably explained it. She was sitting in the very room where the president's sweeping domestic agenda had been formulated. It didn't mean anything to her, not now.

"Yeah? Well, you can go fuck yourself," Sam was saying, yelling, actually.

Quinn didn't know what the chief of staff had said to make him so angry. Sam didn't seem like the type of guy to yell things like that. He was so sweet. Sweet and warm.

She felt him take her hand. "C'mon, we don't have to listen to this."

Though she hadn't heard the shouts and the admonitions when they'd been alone in the room, now she felt everyone looking at her as she followed Sam down the hallway. Staffers, aides, lobbyists, all of them turned to stare at her as she passed. But they were just a mass, not individuals. If she'd been aware, Quinn would have noticed the Deputy Secretary of the Treasury turn to watch her leave. But it was all a haze.

Sam held the door open for her and followed her into the back of the dark SUV.

Quinn didn't remember telling anyone where she wanted to go, but she was glad when the Secret Service agent opened the door to her apartment. Her roommate was gone, so that was a gift from God.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Sam asked, his eyes wider than usual. She'd made it to her bedroom door. He looked worried.

"I think I'd like to be alone for a little while."

He nodded. "Sure." Sam squeezed her hand. "Just let me know if you need anything."

The click of the bedroom door shutting behind her was the first clear, distinct sound she'd heard since he'd told her about the newspaper story.

Finally, she was alone.

XxXxX

She woke up hours later to a splitting headache.

But the pain was clear. It was bracing, it forced everything else into sharp relief. It pushed the shock away, and finally she could see, could hear, clearly.

Beth.

Quinn hadn't thought about her daughter in so long. At first it had been an act of desperate willpower, pleading with herself to stop the torturous second guessing and self doubt in the days after she'd handed her baby over to another woman. Finally, after months and months, her mind turned, at last, to other things. That had been years ago. Since then the memories of her sophomore year in high school had calcified and settled into a locked room in the back of her mind.

Seeing the picture of that little face in the article had been like a knife wound.

The mirror in her bedroom revealed a pale complexion and red, swollen eyes. Quinn pulled her hair into a ponytail to keep it from touching her face. She stepped out of the dress she'd been wearing for the "special day" Sam had promised her. Promised before the news broke.

Ironically, the t-shirt on top in her dresser was one from high school, faded red with the school's name in peeling white letters. She wore it to bed all the time with no second thoughts, but seeing it today seemed almost eerie. Quinn pulled it over her head.

Her phone showed nine in the evening and that she'd missed seven calls. Three were from her mother, and the rest from friends, surely calling about the article in the paper. She's not hurt that Puck's name wasn't on the missed call list. She knew he'd worked just as hard as she to forget everything and move on. They haven't spoken since their graduation.

Quinn's not surprised to find that Sam hadn't left. He's asleep on her couch, arms wrapped around a throw pillow. He's sprawled across the cushions with his feet hanging over the edge, his frame too long. Standing over him, she noticed for the first time his eyelashes, resting against his face; they're long like a girl's. They matched his pink lips, lips that plenty of women paid their plastic surgeons to emulate.

His eyes fluttered open when she touched his shoulder.

"Come to bed. You're going to hurt your neck sleeping like that."

Sam sat up, and his face showed that his neck, and his back, too, probably, already hurt. But even though he was the one in discomfort, he asked her if she was alright, and they both knew he wasn't talking about any crick in her neck.

She nodded, and left it at that.

He didn't, of course. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Can we in the morning?" She'd slept all day long, but she's still tired, exhausted from sleeping, maybe, if that was possible.

Sam followed her back to her bedroom. "Is it weird if I use your toothbrush? Are we to that stage yet? I could just gargle or something if it's weird."

She ought to know that he's something special if he's able to make her smile, even a small one, on a day like this one. She does know. "You seem fairly clean, so I guess it's not too weird."

He came back from the bathroom and shut her bedroom door behind him. Sam pulled off his shirt and jeans and neatly folded them before placing them on a chair in the corner. When he kissed her he tasted minty, and that made her grin again, just a little.

She shouldn't be tired after sleeping for the last twelve hours, but her body felt like she'd been dragged behind a speeding car. Quinn knew she'd have to deal with it in the morning, but right now his chest was warm and his arms were strong, so she slept.

XxXxX

She woke up alone.

She was totally alone, actually. Sam was gone, and her roommate had either already left for the day or never come home last night. She wondered if Kim had run into Sam this morning. Probably not, as Quinn hadn't heard the sound of giggles shrill enough to pierce eardrums.

Quinn knew she should probably use this quiet time to call her mother. There were missed calls on her phone; she'd surely seen the news from yesterday. But she knew she'd have to talk about it with Sam, and she just didn't feel like having that conversation twice. Quinn settled for sending her a text saying that she was alright and would call her later. It was a bitchy thing to do, and she felt like a bad daughter for it.

Sam arrived a few minutes later, his arms laden with food. She soon remembered that she hadn't eaten at all the day before, and suddenly her stomach was raging for the smells coming from the bags he was carrying.

"That's what I thought," he said with a smile when she tore into a Greek yogurt. "And I know you're a dainty girl, but you can eat real food, too. I won't judge." He handed her a breakfast sandwich. She wanted to kiss him when she saw it had avocado.

She took a shower after they finished eating, and when she finished, he was still on her couch, waiting. Quinn had started to notice that he spent a lot of time waiting on her. As much as she didn't want to, she knew she might as well get on with it.

"I guess you want to talk now, about Beth?" She hadn't told him her daughter's name, but it was in the article, along with a current picture that Quinn herself had never seen. She supposed they got it from Shelby's Instagram; for years Quinn had made a point not to look.

"Only if you want to." He patted the space next to him. "You don't owe me any explanations."

He looked so sweet and earnest, so, she tried to think of the word, so steadfast. She'd had a few relationships through college, but nothing since graduation and getting the internship. None of the relationships had been bad, exactly, but none had lasted.

"You really are a prince." That's what the media called him sometimes, America's Prince Charming.

He blushed. "What do you mean?"

"Guys don't say things like that. They don't do the things you do." Any previous boyfriend would have demanded an explanation, as if her having a baby eight years before they'd met had been a betrayal of their relationship. They would have definitely ended things after learning of her teenage mistake.

"I think you've been hanging out with the wrong kind of guy." Sam touched her hand, rubbed her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. "I really care about you, Quinn."

Maybe he saw her reluctance, the way her pupils dilated. He probably saw her swallow several times, trying to work out a way to start. Before she could answer, Sam said, "Hey, I'll go first."

"Go first with what?"

"I'll tell you about something that happened to me when I was a teenager."

She couldn't imagine that something had happened to him that the media hadn't already reported, when Sam said, "I've never told another person about this, ever. You'll be the only person who knows."

Quinn didn't know what to say. She decided to copy his sentiments. "Only if you want me to know." She couldn't put into words how thankful she was that he was giving her an opportunity to delay baring her own soul.

"I do." He pushed himself back into the couch, moved around to get comfortable. He didn't take long to collect himself or decide how he wanted to start.

"When I was sixteen, my dad was governor, and it's not the White House, but it's hectic enough, you know? It seemed like he and mom were always busy with something. I mean, compared to now it's like he had all the time in the world back then, but at the time, it just seemed like I never saw them."

The intonation of his voice was so genuine. Most teenagers would want less time with their parents, but Quinn had no trouble believing that Sam Evans, no matter his age, had wanted time with his family. It was something she'd been noticing since she met him.

"And I was sixteen and stupid, so I started acting out. You know how you do."

She did. Even aside from the pregnancy, her own teenage years had been a maelstrom of high school rivalries, backstabbing, a brief rebel stage, and a relationship with the school's resident bad boy. She was embarrassed by it all, now.

"Now I realize that I wanted his attention, but I didn't see things like that, then. That was the time when he started talking about running for president. And it was like he was gone even more. He probably should have bought a house in Iowa, he spent so much time there." Sam clenched his hands in the hem of his shirt.

Quinn honestly had no idea what he was building towards. She can't imagine anything drastic or bad that would fit with the man sitting next to her now. But, she knew better than anyone that you're a different person at sixteen.

"I was driving home from school one day," he said, adding, "they got me a car to buy me off, but it didn't work. I just drove too fast to spite them, and the governor's kid doesn't get speeding tickets." Sam wasn't looking at her anymore. It was like he was looking through her, back to some previous point in his life.

"I was driving home, and, it's the stupidest thing, I have no idea what I was thinking, I saw a billboard for a strip club."

Oh, well that's gross, but he's certainly not the only man in the world to ever go to one of those places. Sixteen is definitely too young, but really, Quinn can't imagine why a story about him seeing his first naked woman would be such a big deal.

"Like I said, I have no idea what I was thinking. But I went home and dyed my hair, so no one would recognize me." He grinned at her, "as you pointed out, I'm not a natural blonde."

Now she's back to being unsure of where the story is going.

"Anyway," Sam shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal, "I went to the strip club that weekend, lied about being twenty-one, and told them I wanted a job."

She gasped. There was no way. Quinn said as much.

"I know, it's gross. But they bought it, and for two weekends in a row, I stripped on stage."

"Sam, why?" She really cannot even begin to imagine, though perhaps the idea shouldn't be so strange to her. At around the same age, she'd dyed her own hair, but pink, not blonde, and taken up smoking and screwing. But she made no claims to being a good person like Sam Evans.

"I dunno. To get back at my parents for not paying attention to me, probably. That makes the most sense. There's no better way to be the center of attention than to take off your clothes in front of a bunch of middle aged housewives." Her mouth must have been hanging open, because he added, "It was a rush, it was crazy. I loved it. I knew it could ruin dad's career if I got caught."

Her mind was going a thousand miles an hour, trying to force what she'd just learned into her mental image of the boy who'd been stealing more and more space in her heart. Quinn had always tended to compartmentalize things, but it was next to impossible to find a place for this.

"You said you only did it for two weekends. Why did you stop?"

His face didn't reflect the gravity of his words. "I lost my virginity to a woman who came backstage after the show. She tried to give me money afterwards." Sam looked down at his lap, eyes on his twisting fingers, "Mom and dad weren't horrible parents, they'd taught me right from wrong, and her giving me that money kinda woke me up, I guess."

"I don't know what to say." And she didn't, so she hugged him. But then something came to her. "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

Anyone else might argue that nothing had happened to him, that he'd made his own decisions and asked for what he got. But Quinn knew, better than most, what it was like to feel trapped, like you didn't have any control, like if you could just get someone, anyone, to look your way, then everything would be alright. There was no room to think or maneuver or choose. You just ran blindly until you got hurt.

"Hey," Sam said, hugging her back. "It's ok, it was a long time ago." He spoke into her hair. "I guess I'm over it." He pushed her back a little so that they were looking at one another. "I just wanted you to know about it."

She nodded. "I'm glad you told me."

He smiled. "I know we haven't been together for very long." Sam took both of her hands. "So I hope this isn't moving too fast, but you're important to me, you know? I want you to know things about me."

It's probably implicit that he wanted her to tell him about her past in return, but she doesn't feel pressured to do so. Quinn leaned forward and kissed him, lightly, on the lips. "Thank you for trusting me with that. You're important to me, too."

XxXxX

It didn't surprise her, but the Secret Service agents were very, very good. She knew they were out there, watching them, ready to intervene at a movement's notice, but Quinn couldn't find them, couldn't catch even a glimpse.

There are six of them, instead of the usual two, because Sam had told them he wanted to go for a walk in the park. He'd explained to her that they hated "variables" like being outside in areas that were more difficult to secure and defend. "But I'm tired of being cooped up inside."

The park was fairly busy, with families and couples having a nice time, but Quinn doubted it was a coincidence that not even one person crossed their path; just the Secret Service doing their job, unseen and unheard.

It was a beautiful day, and he held her hand as they walked down a shady path.

"I was the head cheerleader," Quinn explained, "and president of the Celibacy Club."

Sam snorted. "That sounds like the lamest club ever. I bet dad has some friends in the Senate who'd love to steer tax dollars that way, instead of supporting real sex ed classes."

She knew he was joking, but he wasn't wrong. She'd never given a second thought to birth control until well after she got pregnant. All the sex education classes at her school had been abstinence only, and her parents definitely had never mentioned anything of the sort. Head cheerleaders and aspiring prom queens didn't think about tawdry things like sex.

"I was extremely naive, and this guy on the football team had wine coolers, and then," she took a deep breath, "then I got pregnant." Quinn looked up at him. "So, when you add in what we did, you can tell that I have a pattern of being stupid and fertile."

Sam frowned. "That's not funny."

"It's true, though."

"It won't seem stupid when we have our baby."

Through the whirlwind of getting pregnant by the president's son, and then realizing that an entire administration was planning on how to use her situation to its electoral benefit, Quinn hadn't really thought much about their child. She'd only thought about how her life was changing now, and hadn't considered that whatever was happening in the present would pale in comparison to the total upheaval that was coming.

"Can you tell me about Beth?" Sam asked.

Quinn didn't know what to say. She didn't know anything about her child, she hadn't seen her since she was an infant.

"Giving her up was the hardest thing I've ever done."

He put his arm around her shoulder. "She has blonde hair and dark eyes." Her own eyes started to burn, and he probably picked up on it, because he steered them towards a bench under a tree. "And on the day she was born, she went home with Shelby." Quinn didn't explain; she knew he'd read the article.

"For a long time I didn't know what to do. I kind of had a crazy period." If he asked, she'd tell him about the pink hair, the black clothes, and everything else, but she didn't feel like going into it now.

"I don't think anyone could blame you for that."

That almost made her laugh; plenty of people had been able to blame her at the time.

"I'm sorry that being with me made them dig all that up." Sam squeezed her hand. "No one should have to read about their life in the newspaper."

Quinn pushed herself into his side. She liked that his bodyguards were keeping everyone away, keeping anyone from looking at them. She felt like everyone had been looking at her for weeks now. It was exhausting.

His arm was around her shoulders; she pulled it down across her chest and held his hand in both of hers. He's lanky and always sprawled out whenever he sat down, and now it felt like he was all around her. It felt good.

"Do you think I should have kept her? Should I have tried to raise her?"

Sam let her play with his fingers. "Do you think about that a lot?"

Not anymore, not until just yesterday. Quinn remembered the vaguest details of a hazy dream from her day long attempt to hide in sleep. In the dream she was living in DC, and she had a baby, but the face was unclear. She didn't know which baby, the first or the new.

"For a long time I did. I thought about it every day."

"I guess I'm supposed to say that you would've done an awesome job."

Quinn waited for the rest of his answer.

"And knowing you, you definitely would have."

She doubted that, but wanted him to continue with whatever he had to say. She knew it'd be honest. "But?"

"But, you were just a kid." She felt him kiss her head. "I'm glad your baby got a good home, and that you got to grow up. I'm glad you got to go to college, and come to work in this swamp of a city. I'm glad you came to that boring fundraiser."

Quinn knew that she wouldn't believe any other man who that, only this one. "Even though my going to that fundraiser means you're going to be a dad at twenty-two? It's going to turn your life upside down."

"My life's never been right side up." Sam pulled himself away from her so that he could turn on the bench and look directly at her. "I know our situation wasn't in your plan. It wasn't in mine, either."

"Sam —"

"Lemme finish." He let his hand come to rest on her knee. "We didn't plan on this, and you definitely didn't plan on all my baggage being in your life. But I just want you to know, I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you still get to do what you're meant to. I should have told you that from the start."

At first, she didn't know what to say. But then she realized she didn't have to say anything. The way he smiled at her said that he knew.

They stood and he took her hand, and they continued their walk through the park. They didn't talk about anything serious or sad. It was all light, which left her thoughts free to drift.

More and more lately, it seemed like she always wanted to kiss him. More and more, she had to tell herself to keep it together and not stupidly rush things.

More and more, she thought she might love him.

To Be Continued

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