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Chapter 7

She had made it through class, barely holding it all in, resisting the urge to crawl under her desk and cry. They had the little one piece desk and chair connected thingies in her class, so it wouldn't have been discreet, and it definitely would have garnered way too much attention. Mercedes still had to think about appearances. Quinn may have been the center of all the media scrutiny but Mercedes still was on their radar. She was the wife of Sam Evans, the media was just as eager to see her reactions to all the turmoil and tragedy that had befallen them this past year. Now that the news had leaked that Sam had come out of his coma, things were only bound to get worse. Dwight had tried to protect them from it all, by getting injunctions and making numerous threats to withhold donations and financial support, but when a story this big hits a small town, an invasion is inevitable.

Rushing down the stairs that led from the Nursing School wing of the hospital to the main building, Mercedes's head started to spin. Once she reached the bottom landing she leaned her head against the cool white brick wall and closed her eyes, willing the dizziness to stop.

"Mercedes. Hey!" Her eyes shot open at the interruption. Rachel Berry had popped up beside her on the stairs, looking cheery like a ray of sunshine in a fitted short yellow dress.

"Rachel," said Mercedes, attempting to smile weakly, but fearing her face was more likely in a grimace.

"Are you okay? You don't look so good," said Rachel leaning forward and peering into Mercedes's face.

"Just tired," said Mercedes instinctively shifting away from the other girl.

Rachel smiled brightly at Mercedes, although something about the way her eyes crinkled made her smile seem less sincere. "So have you seen Shane?"

"Shane?" asked Mercedes wondering why Rachel would go there with her, now of all times. "Why would I have seen Shane?"

Rachel shrugged, tossing her long brown hair over her shoulder. "Just figured you might have. He got that fellowship at Duke."

"That's great," Mercedes smiled. "I knew he could do it."

"Yeah, he has made everyone here so proud. It's great news. Even better news for you right?"

"What are you talking about?" asked Mercedes, confused.

"Well with Shane leaving you won't have to be torn between two lovers anymore. You can pour all your energy into Sam," Rachel stated, her tone overly upbeat. "That is until the next distraction comes along."

Mercedes sighed, bored that once again she was being forced to have a conversation about Shane. "I've never been torn, Rachel. I'm fully committed to my husband."

"So do you always leave secret voicemails on your wedding day to men you have lukewarm feelings for?"

"I don't have time for this," said Mercedes pushing past Rachel and heading down the hall. "I need to get back to Sam."

"Right, you run along Mercedes," Rachel called after her. "Enjoy your big romantic reunion with your hubby. Oh wait you can't do that, can you?"

Mercedes stopped in her tracks, and turned back toward Rachel. "Do you have a point? Or are you just here killing time because you have no life?"

"My point is that with three years erased from Sam's mind makes it pretty hard to have any sort of reunion doesn't it?" asked Rachel as she walked up the hallway to where Mercedes was now standing. "I mean isn't it ironic, that out of all the periods of time that Sam could have blanked out, he chose the one with you in it. It was like he wanted to purposely forget all about you. Must suck huh?"

"You really are a piece of work. How can you stand here and mock what we're going through?"

It had been in his eyes. She realized that now. The same green that darkened with his moods, staring back at her, blank without depth of emotion. Without recognition. Sure he had laughed and flirted with her, listened to her chatter incessantly, but there had been nothing there. He might have reacted the same way to anyone else, a circus clown, a trained seal, or the television.

"I think Sam will be fine. He'll recover, healthy and strong as ever. He'll find out about Beth, he'll reclaim his life."

"He lost three years. That's not fine," said Mercedes, tears starting to sting in the back of her eyes as she thought about how upset Sam was earlier that day.

"I look at it this way. He remembers what's important. His family, his friends, and most of all Quinn, the woman he shares a child with. I think he has all he needs for a bright future. You on the other hand, are totally unnecessary. I don't think he'll lose one wink of sleep when he finds out the only thing important he missed in the past three years is his impulsive decision to marry you."

Mercedes gulped down the lump that had formed in her throat. It was hard to deny the truth in Rachel's statements. Rachel was right. Mercedes was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Who was to say that she wasn't just a blip in his timeline, a love in a long string of others? They were just closing in on being married a year, and most of that year was spent with him in a coma, before that he had cheated and Mercedes had planned to leave him. When you laid it all out, there really wasn't much to see.

"You're forgetting one thing Rachel. If he has forgotten me, then he has forgotten you as well. Your little love affair happened in those three years." Mercedes didn't feel like she had a leg to stand on in this fight but she couldn't let it go. No way would she let Rachel just have the upper hand.

Rachel snorted, the contempt evident all over her body. "Every time you open your mouth, you further prove how stupid you truly are. Sam and I have known each other longer than three years. He may have forgotten our engagement, but he won't have forgotten me. Can you say the same?"

"You're such a bitch," said Mercedes coldly, shaking her head in disgust.

"Resorting to name calling. I must have struck a nerve." Rachel smirked. "Oh well, off to look for Shane. Take care." She bounced off down the hall, her brown hair swaying as she walked away.

Finally alone, the rumbling in her stomach started again. The rush of adrenaline from arguing with Rachel must have kept the queasy feelings at bay for a bit, but they were back full strength now. Bracing herself with one hand on the wall, the other on her belly, Mercedes inched herself toward the staff locker room. Steps from the doors, she had to break out into a run, bounding through the doors, flinging herself into a stall, where she quickly purged the meager contents of her stomach. Mercedes heaved and wretched over the porcelain bowl for about five minutes, her ribs aching from the force of her movements. Her nose was running, and her face felt hot. She made her way over to the sink and splashed cold water over her head hoping it would help calm her body.

Mercedes stared into the mirror above the sink, studying her reflection. Her brown eyes were wide and blood shot, red tingeing the normal whites. She looked young, younger than usual. She usually tried to cover her babyface, a habit that started in Los Angeles. So many of her mom's "friends" liked her doe eyes, chubby cheeks, and button nose, that Mercedes would put on false eyelashes, and cake on makeup attempting to cover up and to somehow make herself look older and less desirable to the men. In Mercedes's mind, if the men didn't find her attractive, she wouldn't have to be with them. Sadly that was far from the truth.

Sam had liked her babyface too, the first time he saw her without makeup, the night he proposed. She had washed her face before bed, momentarily forgetting that a sheer fuchsia nightie and little girl features might be a bad mix. But Sam didn't seem to mind. He said he liked seeing the real her, fresh and natural. He said finally she had stopped hiding from him. And she guessed she had.

Twenty-two minutes he spent tracing the outline of her lips with a single long finger that night, as he stared at her by the glow of the Manhattan city lights streaming into their hotel room. No one had ever looked at her so closely before. Sam had been the only one that had seen all of her, inside and out, and had never once looked away. He had held her closer the more he saw, until finally he had told her he wanted to keep her forever. Mercedes had thought forever sounded like a long time, she had been skeptical he would want her for that long. She had always been discarded and replaced by men once they had their fill. But Sam had made her start to believe in forever, that love could last. He almost had her convinced. Then he woke up and proved her right. Forever was fleeting, and he too, like all the rest, had grown weary of her, and found a way to have her discarded, and probably replaced.

With that thought her stomach churned again and she was back in the stall letting it all go. Her torment hitting the water, with every heave it dulled a bit more, numbing her senses to the pain. Then she was done, relieved and much calmer, and surprisingly dry eyed. She hadn't shed a single tear since she had been with Sam earlier in the day. Where had all her tears gone?

At her locker, after brushing her teeth and changing into her street clothes, jeans and a baby blue tee-shirt that said "Cleveland Rocks" across the front, she lingered to look at the photos taped to her locker door, one of Beth, smiling in her crib, and the other of Sam, in a navy suit, with just a hint of a crooked smile on his face. Her two favorite people, they were everything to her, all that she loved, all that she had ever wanted. A family completely her own, finally. But it was all lies, with her borrowed baby, and her barely there husband, Mercedes realized she wouldn't have much at all if she were to lose them.

"Dad, what are you doing here?" asked Mercedes when she saw her father come through the doors of the locker room, dressed in his usual green scrubs.

"Looking for you. I thought you might need to talk or something," Julian replied.

Mercedes turned back to her locker, pausing a moment to gain her composure, before shutting the door and facing her dad. "I'm fine. Really. You can stop looking at me like that."

"You know I'm worried. Sam's memory loss has to be a lot to take in."

He reached out and stroked her arm, stopping when Mercedes didn't seem receptive to his comfort. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to her father, she just didn't want to risk getting emotional now. She had to meet Beiste and Beth, she had to hold it together.

"I'm dealing," she said. "He's out of his coma, doing better, nothing's more important than that."

"It is remarkable and really good news, but that doesn't change the rest of it. How are you doing really?" Julian asked bending slightly at the knees to look her in the eyes.

"Dad, please, stop worrying," she said moving away from him. She could feel herself starting to crack. "If you should be concerned for anyone it's Sam. It has to be extremely hard for him right now. I'm sure he feels confused and distressed."

"And you don't feel those things? Confused and distressed?" He took a seat on the couch. "Sam doesn't remember you at all."

"I'm sure it's only temporary. He just needs time," she responded, playing with the lock on one of the locker doors.

"You have been singing that same song for months now…time, time time," he said gesturing his arms wildly. "Can we just be honest with each other for a minute here?"

"I am being honest."

"Sam might never recover those memories. What will you do then?"

She didn't want to hear this. What did her father expect her to say? Of course she had been thinking about the fact his memory loss could be permanent, but she couldn't allow herself to dwell on it or she would just fall apart. Memory or not, Sam still needed her to be strong for him.

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. Right now I just have to focus on helping him fully recover."

When Sam had called out for her earlier, taking her hand, pleading for her with tear filled eyes, Mercedes knew that no matter what else happened she wouldn't leave him. Sam needed her in his life, to help him through this.

"Maybe it's time you focus on yourself," said Julian pulling Mercedes down on the couch next to him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you have spent months on Sam, doing everything for him to get him well, night and day, running yourself ragged. Then you added Beth into the equation, and you have no down time. Your whole life is about Sam."

"Sam is my life."

She looked over at her dad, finally realizing he would never understand, that what she felt for Sam was more real than anything else in her life. Loving him was the biggest and best thing that ever happened to her. Even with all the pain she would never change it.

"Maybe he shouldn't be. You used to have dreams and goals before all of this. What happened to them?" asked Julian as he put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side.

"I finished school. I'm working. I have a family."

Julian shook his head slowly. "You finished school to help Sam, you only work taking care of Sam, your family is Sam's family. Where are you in this scenario?"

"Dad…"

"I'm not trying to upset you," he said raising his hands, cutting her off. "I just want to see my baby girl shine." He smiled. "I want you to have the best possible life."

"What if that best life is with Sam? Would you support me then?"

"I support you now. I am telling you all of this, because I love you. I just want you to think about things."

Mercedes stood up and walked across the room to lean against the bulletin board filled with course listings and job openings. "With all due respect, I think you're telling me these things because you hate Sam."

"I don't hate Sam."

"Yes you do. You blame him for leading Quinn astray and ruining Puck's life. But if you blame him you should be blaming me too. It was my voicemail to Shane that started all of this."

"You didn't make Sam and Quinn sleep together." Julian leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He looked upset just from talking about this subject. Mercedes knew he tried to cover, but he still was in so much pain.

"Maybe not, but I did something that I knew would set Sam off. I knew if he found out about the voicemail and Shane he would do something stupid. I guess I should be glad he only made a baby and didn't end up committing murder." She knew Sam so well. She knew his weaknesses and his hot buttons. Mercedes had hit them all when she left that message.

"See that right there is what I have been trying to say. You feel guilty." Julian got up and walked over to her, grabbing her by both arms, turning her to face him. "Guilty about Beth, guilty about the crash, about all of it, but guilt should not be confused with love. You don't have to keep paying for these imaginary crimes you think you've committed."

"I love him," Mercedes said, stepping away.

"Honey I know but…" Julian started.

"Dad, I love him," she pleaded, looking into his eyes, needing him to understand once and for all.

Julian looked at his daughter and sighed. "What can I do to make this better?"

"You can just…" The room started to spin and she reached out for the wall to hold herself up, but it was nowhere to be found, she was falling.

"Mercedes are you okay?" She heard her father's voice from far away. Her vision blurred as she tried to search for the sound. Mercedes stretched out her arm hoping he would grab her hand and catch her.

"I can't breathe. Dad-" she said in panic, as her throat closed and everything went black.

Quinn sat in the middle of her bed, legs crossed Indian style as she watched her roommate organize her belongings in the middle of the floor. Iley Plunkett from Evanston, IL, blond hair, brown eyes, age twenty-four with a sister and two brothers. She had been in and out of institutions for years, but it was her first time at the State hospital. She was new too, she had explained to Quinn, overly excited, as if it were their first day of college and not a stay at a mental institution. Iley talked a lot, which was nice for Quinn because she didn't. Nothing was worse than being expected to carry a conversation when you had nothing to say. That would never be an issue with her and Iley. Quinn was sure Iley would find something to feel any lulls in their conversations.

Over an hour had passed and Iley was still unpacking her large suitcase. Quinn didn't realize that patients were allowed to have so much in their rooms. She was given only the option of taking the bare necessities. Maybe it was just an oversight, or maybe Dwight had insisted she had the least comfortable experience possible. Quinn wouldn't put it past the old man to stipulate that she have nothing but the clothes on her back, and a strictly bread and water diet.

"Are you married?" asked Iley as she folded her clothes into neat piles.

"Almost, once. Recently broken up with my fiancé," responded Quinn, feeling a little embarrassed by her relationship stats.

"So you tried to off him? Your ex-fiancee?" Iley asked the question so nonchalantly, as if she were asking Quinn where she grew up.

"What? I would never try to kill anybody."

"You had to have tried to kill someone. They stuck you in the killers ward."

"What do you mean, killers ward?"

Iley ran her hand through her pale blond hair as she explained. "Every ward in this place is segregated by crime or mental illness, different levels of security in each section. Here, where we are, is for the murderers."

Quinn's heart jumped in agitation. Where had Dwight put her? "There must be some sort of mistake, I'm not a murderer."

"Attempted murderer then?" Iley asked raising one eyebrow.

Quinn shook her head emphatically. "I think you've got it all wrong. The only person I tried to kill was myself."

"That's a given, we've all done that here at one time or another."

"You tried to kill yourself too?" asked Quinn shocked that apparently suicide was a common occurrence.

Iley shrugged. "Yes, just once. I'm a cutter."

"I've read about that, some say it is like trying to commit suicide slowly."

"Isn't it funny how you become an expert in all that psycho garbage?" she laughed. "I think I should become a therapist after all the time I've spent in sessions. But I'm not a cutter like you think. I'm one of those special cases."

"I don't understand."

"I liked to cut other people," Iley stated flatly, looking Quinn directly in the eyes.

Quinn's eyes widened in alarm. "You don't mean…"

"Yep. It started when I was about fifteen, I used to do it to my little sister. I got shipped to an institution, six months later I was cured."

"So why are you here now?" asked Quinn growing increasingly nervous, something about the way her roommate was staring at her made her uneasy.

"No one is ever really cured. You just learn to manage it all, to try to function. Things got bad for me in college and I started in on my roommate."

"You cut your roommate?" Quinn asked in alarm, easing herself backwards on the bed, until she had hit the wall.

"With a paring knife, little slits in her sleep. She didn't notice at first, thought she was bleeding from nicks from her shaver."

"You cut your roommate and they put you in here with me?"

Quinn's first impulse was to scream for help. There had to be some sort of mistake. She shouldn't be locked up with crazy people and criminals. Then reality set in, that was exactly where she should be. She was one of those crazy criminals.

"I was pretty surprised too. I've been in an out of hospitals for years. They've never given me a roommate. Not that I'm complaining. You seem sweet." Iley smiled at Quinn, showing all of her bright white teeth.

"Oh uh..." Quinn stammered nervously trying to come up with something to say next.

"Don't look so nervous," she chuckled. "I haven't cut in months. Maybe that's why they put me with you, to test my willpower or something."

"But to test you with me?"

"Maybe because you are all high profile, they assumed I wouldn't risk it."

"You know who I am?"

She wasn't sure why she was surprised by that at this point. Once she had been on CNN, her privacy was pretty much shot. Quinn just had hoped that in a mental hospital she would be able to escape some of the stares. No such luck.

"Doesn't everyone? Besides we were both at Lima University psychiatric ward."

"I don't remember seeing you."

"You sort of stayed to yourself, from what I can tell, so I'm not surprised."

"If you knew who I was, why did you ask me about why I was in here?" Quinn asked her defenses shooting up. Maybe her new roommate was a plant working for Dwight, someone sent to spy on her, or to make her life even worse. There was no telling how far Dwight's influence reached.

"Never fair to assume. We all get to tell our own stories. And if you don't want to tell me the truth, which you clearly don't, then it's on you. I'm not gonna judge you."

"I did tell you the truth."

"Except the part about how you tried to kill your baby," stated Iley shooting Quinn a look, before returning to her clothes.

Quinn started tearing up. Is that how the world truly saw her? Some heartless baby killer that was trying to get away with her crimes? Didn't they see she was trying to protect Beth, not hurt her? Things just went wrong. Quinn knew now that she should have left Beth with Maggie, or taken her to the hospital to be with Sam. Just at the time, the woods seemed the most logical place that Sam would be able to find her.

"That never happened," said Quinn shakily. "Not how you think."

"I understand. I would try to block something like that too. Just be careful around here. Women don't like baby killers."

"I didn't kill her. She's fine." Quinn pulled her knees up to her chest, and rocked herself back and forth slowly on the bed, humming in her mind to block out Iley's words.

"Is she with your parents?" asked Iley raising her voice, as if she knew that Quinn was trying to ignore her.

Quinn eyed her suspiciously. "I thought you knew all about me."

"I haven't been allowed to watch much TV so I'm behind. Last I heard, your baby was with her father's wife, but I figured you'd nip that in the bud."

"Can't do much stuck in the hospital."

"I suppose. If it were my kid, I'd make sure my mom had her. You don't want another woman raising your child."

Quinn definitely agreed with that. She didn't want another woman, namely Mercedes, raising her child. Mercedes had taken care of Beth long enough. She didn't need to grow anymore attached to her. Thank goodness Sam would be able to take her soon. But it had also occurred to her that Sam would probably be raising Beth with Mercedes, and she would be still stuck in the mental hospital. So no matter what happened, Mercedes would still be in Beth's life. If Quinn couldn't find a way out of the hospital soon, she would have to call her parents. Mercedes may have her good points, but there was no way she was going to have her baby calling that girl 'mommy'. Quinn would die before she let that happen.

"Her father will have her soon. He's better now."

"Good. But if you find out that's not the case, and that other bitch still has your baby, let me know. I'll take care of it."

"Take care of it how?" Quinn asked apprehensively, the dread rising as she eyed her roommate on the floor.

"I've got my ways," said Iley with a sinister looking smirk. "I can cut her in places she'll never recover from, just like I did my college roommate."

Quinn's heart pounded as she imagined just exactly where Iley could have made those cuts on her college roommate. Every idea that popped in her mind was utterly disgusting, not to mention painful. Suddenly the door opened and a brunette female aide appeared.

"Quinn, your attorney is here to see you. You'll have to come with me," the aide announced.

"Oh thank God!" Quinn exclaimed as she jumped off the bed and rushed to the door. She couldn't get out of that room soon enough. Iley was creeping her out.

Through the glass panel in the door, Quinn could see Artie seated at the table, coat on, brown hair combed back, drumming his fingers on the screen of his phone. He had been waiting for her in the stark white closet, turned consultation room that Quinn had been escorted to before when she had talked to Sam on the phone.

"Artie I am really glad to see you right now," said Quinn as she took a seat across from him across the table.

"What's wrong?" asked Artie taking off his charcoal gray blazer and putting in on the table next to them. "You're all flushed."

"The roommate from hell, literally." Quinn didn't want to be too quick to judge, but there was something in Iley's eyes that made her worried. She didn't want to wake up in the middle of the night covered in blood because her roommate decided to take up cutting again.

"Maybe I can try to do something. Get you moved."

"No don't. The last thing I need is special favors. People already know who I am." Never draw attention to yourself, another lesson she learned spending time in group homes. She couldn't help that her face was plastered all over the news, but Quinn didn't have to set herself apart from the other patients either. Her life at the hospital would go a lot smoother if she just tried to blend in.

"So has it been awful?" Artie asked.

Quinn could see the concern in Artie's blue eyes. He was probably thinking she would breakdown being stuck in this place. He really didn't need to worry. Quinn was determined to make it through this, through all of it, for Beth.

"It doesn't matter. I deserve to be here." She truly did. It was high time she stopped running away from her problems. She needed to face things head on, commit to getting better. Maybe if she had been more receptive to treatment sooner, things never would have gotten this bad. She wouldn't be separated from everyone she knew and loved.

"You didn't deserve this. Dwight Evans put you in here."

"Dwight never would've been able to if I hadn't given him ammunition." Impulsive, stupid choices put her in this place. She played right into Dwight's hands. With each passing day, she realized Dwight wasn't even really to blame, she had done it all to herself.

"I've been working on your appeal but I have to say I'm hitting road blocks. What exactly did you do to make Dwight so angry with you?" asked Artie as he pulled his Ipad out of his bag, his dark green dress shirt stretching across his narrow but tone chest.

Quinn pushed the hair out of her face. "Dwight and I go way back. He's pretty much always hated me."

"Because of Sam?" asked Artie, raising one eyebrow.

"And Puck, probably even Mike too. See I'm screwed," she said sinking in her chair.

It probably wasn't the smartest of ideas to get involved with so many men in the same family. If for no other reason than it gave them all a chance to talk about her behind her back, to compare notes. Not that she thought that Puck or Sam would do that to her. Even with their bad breakups things hadn't deteriorated to the point of mud slinging. Now Mike, well he was another matter. She could certainly see him trashing her all over the place. Good thing he was still in China, or he would probably be conducting exclusive interviews with the news, to tarnish her image even further.

"I'm not giving up. I've got a meeting with Judge Leery tomorrow," said Artie as he flipped through his files on the screen.

"It won't do any good," stated Quinn feeling discouraged by her situation.

"We've got to try. Dwight Evans has been throwing his weight around in this town for far too long. He can't keep getting away with it."

Quinn narrowed her eyes at him. "This is the second time I've heard you mention Dwight like this. You were lying when you said you didn't know him, weren't you?"

"First time I met him, that I can recall, was in court," replied Artie. "Before that I was too young."

Just as she had suspected Artie was hiding something. "You knew him as a kid?"

"My parents have a history with him. Dark and complicated."

"Who are your parents?'

He looked up at her in surprise. "I thought you knew. Douglas and Melissa Abrams."

It all finally clicked in her mind. "Oh, your parents were the ones that got Dwight brought up on insider trading charges right? I've heard stories about them."

"Yeah well they and Dwight go back, way back, all the way back to Tennessee. My dad was Dwight's accountant at one time, knew all the company's secrets. So I really could get some sort of dirt to use against Dwight from my dad. I'm just reluctant to go to him."

"Because you want to do it on your own?" They had that in common. Neither of them wanted to involve their parents if they could help it.

"Yes. But I won't risk your freedom because of my pride," he assured her. "I'll call him. See what I can find out."

"Don't do that," she said putting her hand on his arm." I think I know a better way."

"Like what?" Artie leaned forward, intrigued.

"You have to go talk to Sam. He's the only one who can convince Dwight to back down."

Sam and Dwight fought often, but Quinn knew, even if Sam failed to see it, that Dwight held his son in high regard. Sam had the power to talk some sense into Dwight. All Artie had to do was talk to him.

Artie smiled. " Burt told me he's doing better."

"Yeah he is. He wasn't talking yet, but he was alert."

Quinn looked down at her lap trying to hide her smile. She didn't want Artie to see her reaction to the subject of Sam. It was silly really, everyone knew that Sam was her friend, so it was natural she would care about his health. Somehow, for Quinn things were feeling a bit different now. Her feelings for Sam were transforming, growing stronger, deeper somehow. It felt almost too intimate to share with other people, she felt like she needed to hide, almost as if a change could be seen in her eyes.

"That's great news Quinn, but I think you might have forgotten one thing."

"What's that?" she asked.

"This whole case is about you harming his daughter," he said slowly. "What makes you think Sam won't agree with his father and think you deserve to be locked up?"

"I know Sam. We've been through so much together. He'll understand that I was sick and I wasn't in my right mind at the time."

Every single time they had made it back. Through heartache, anger, jealousy, she and Sam had always managed to keep their friendship intact. She couldn't believe this time would be any different, especially since it involved their daughter.

"I hope you're right Quinn. Sometimes when a kid is involved people feel differently. Most of all, never forget Sam is an Evans. They are very protective of their families."

"You say that like you know from personal experience."

"I do, and I just want you to keep your guard up, even around Sam," he warned.

"I appreciate your concern but Sam is the one Evans we don't have to worry about. Oh and Puck, but you already know that."

"Know about Puck?" He scratched his head, looking quite confused.

"Yeah I'm sure you've talked to him a lot since he's the one that hired you."

"Puck didn't hire me, Quinn. I don't work for him."

"You don't? Then who's paying for my legal bills?"

This didn't make any sense, if Puck wasn't helping her who could it be? Santana didn't have any money, and there really was no one else she could call a friend in town. Her mind instantly went to Sam, but that was impossible, since he was comatose when it all happened.

"Oh I almost forgot," announced Artie abruptly, scrolling rapidly through on his tablet." Ms. Beiste wanted me to show you these." He turned the Ipad so Quinn could easily see the screen.

She flipped through picture after picture of her happy baby girl. "Look at my Beth."

"She told me she took these the other day," said Artie.

"Did you see here?" she asked pointing to the picture on the screen. "She's wearing a 'I love my mommy' shirt. This was so sweet of Coach B. Please thank her for me."

Their hands grazed as she handed him back his Ipad, a gentle crackle of electricity went through her body causing her to shudder slightly. It had been weeks, months actually without much human contact. Kind hugs and pats on the arm, couldn't compensate for not having anyone to touch her that truly cared. Not that Artie actually cared about her on a personal level, Quinn would never assume that, but it felt nice to be touched by a man, even accidentally.

"I will." He smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "She's pulling for you."

"I've got to get home to my little girl. Promise me you'll talk to Sam."

"If I can get in to see him, security has been tight. They're not letting just anyone get into his room."

"You'll find a way."

"It's worth a shot at any rate. So we've got a few more minutes before they kick me out. Do you want to stay here with me, or go back to your room?" he asked a smile playing on his lips as he stared at her awaiting her response.

"Oh stay with you. Definitely. Why would I pass up the chance to hang out with an attractive young man?" she asked smiling.

"I guess I should feel flattered, but something tells me you just want to avoid your roommate."

As nice as it was to be with Artie, her thoughts gravitated toward Sam, that morning, clinging to her hand, a moment that she never would forget. Amazing as that experience was, Quinn couldn't help but long for more. She wanted Sam to hold her hand, and mean it. She wanted him to touch her and be conscious that he was doing it. And more than anything, she wanted him to hold her, to take her in his arms and tell her things would be okay. He would rub her back, stroke her hair, look deeply in her eyes and make her believe that some good was just around the corner, because he was there, and he was never leaving again.