Chapter 36 - #3 - Coming Clean

She came back different, face scrubbed, her eyes shining bright like stars in the night sky. She had on next to nothing, at least that's how it seemed to him, again with the very small shorts, black knit this time, and a tank top, bright green, with thin straps that clung to her every curve. And that hint of pink lace that occasionally peeked over the swell of her breasts, teasing him as he moved. Her hair was in a single braid that hung to about the middle of her back, held together by a red band on the end. She must have taken a shower, she smelled clean and with a hint of that sweet floral scent she always wore.

A long thin chain was around her neck disappearing into the space between her tiny tank top and her breasts. The chain bewitched him for a moment, as his eyes followed its trail hoping more of it would be revealed as she moved around the room, pulling out his pajamas, assembling his nightly medicine, placing a pile of toiletries on his desk. Marcel was far more methodical when he did these tasks, there was an order and symmetry to all of his movements. Mercedes was different, haphazardly flitting about the room, hesitating at periodic intervals, as if she would forget what she was doing mid stream.

Sam watched silently from his wheelchair in the corner. She hadn't said a word to him since they had left the kitchen. After that douche Finn left, she quietly pushed him to the elevator and led him back to his room, leaving him there alone. She had gone so long Sam wasn't sure if she'd ever return. He was tempted to go find her, but thought better of it, wanting instead to see what she would do.

"Beth's still asleep," she said finally, still not looking at him directly.

"That's good since it is night time." He tried to keep things light, hopefully to ease some of the tension in the room.

"Beth doesn't usually sleep through the night. She didn't inherit your genes in that department I guess."

"What genes would those be?"

"The sleeping genes. If you could you would be in bed by 10pm every night."

"You make me sound like an old man."

Mercedes shrugged, her back to him as she did something on his dresser. "I figured you were just regimented from the army. You're such an early riser."

"Could be from that. I've always liked mornings though."

"I know. So does Beth. She likes mornings, and nights, and afternoons." She laughed, finally turning to face him.

"She probably doesn't want to miss out on anything in this big exciting world."

"Just like her dad, never sitting still." She held his gaze, but she didn't seem to be actually seeing him, her eyes were distant, perhaps seeing something in her mind.

"I'm sitting still right now."

"That's because you have no choice. I know you'll be walking soon."

"I have some goals on that front." He had to be on his feet in time to get Quinn. After all of this time he had to be able to approach her under his own steam.

"I'm well aware of your expectations in physical therapy."

"You've been talking to my doctors?" Sam was surprised, he thought Mercedes had written him off completely. It didn't occur to him that she would be keeping tabs on him from her house.

"I'm still in charge of your care."

"Could have fooled me. I haven't seen you since I was in the hospital. Slacking off on the job, seems like."

"I went home. Beth's routine has been disrupted enough these past few weeks. She needed my attention."

"What about me?" Sounded a bit whiny, even to his own ears, but she claimed he was her favorite patient, and yet she had been MIA for almost two weeks. He wanted answers.

"What about you Sam? You made it perfectly clear where things stood between us."

"So that's it? One little disagreement and you retreat?"

"Disagreement? I would say it was more than that. You were mean and nasty, deliberately hurtful, why would I continue to subject myself to that abuse?"

"I was upset." He honestly wished he could take back some of his actions, but he felt how he felt, and reacted the only way he knew how at the time.

"I got that," she said slamming the chair she had been moving down on the wooden floor. "Next time you need a punching bag, you find someone else."

"According to everyone I've talked to there is no one else. You're it for me. Apparently we were inseparable," he said narrowing her eyes at her. She had some nerve acting indignant, when she was the one that wasn't upfront with him from the start.

"Mocking our relationship doesn't make it any less real. I don't care how you wish things were right now, the fact is you married me."

"I know."

"Do you want a shave or not?" she asked patting the chair impatiently.

"I don't know if I want you touching me when you are clearly so hostile," he said as he rolled over to her. She put her arm under him to support his weight as she helped him from the wheelchair to the upholstered armless chair she had set up near his desk.

"Are you scared of me Sam?" she asked as she approached him with a pair of small metal scissors.

"Should I be?" She tilted his head back and started to trim the excess length from his beard.

"Well I am near your throat with pointy objects, anything could happen." She threw a warm towel over his face, instantly darkening his view. "Just one slip of my hand and you could be a goner."

"I doubt you would attempt anything right here at the house, too many witnesses."

"All the staff has the night off. It's just you and me." She removed the towel and leaned above him from behind, staring intently at him.

"What?" he asked feeling more nervous than he ever would admit. He wasn't sure if it truly was fear for his life or something else.

"Just taking one last look at you with the beard. I was starting to like it."

"Is that why you made me endure it for so long?"

"I didn't make you do anything. Why didn't you just shave?" she asked as she moved things on the desk behind him. Sam didn't bother to turn to see what she was doing.

"Are you kidding me? Your stupid list of rules is why. Marcel wouldn't go against them."

"Really? Those were for when you were in a coma."

"Apparently Marcel didn't get the memo, and my dad backed him up."

"Sorry you were so miserable. Someone should have called me."

"Or maybe you should've been here doing your job instead of being sick," he said emphasizing the word sick with his fingers. "Were you even really sick or was that your excuse to stay away from me?"

She covered his face with shaving cream preventing him from speaking any further. "I'm the one that shaved you in the hospital. It was something that helped me still feel close to you, it was intimate in a way. I got to sit close to you, look at your face, touch you, that time with you meant a lot to me."

Tears pooled in her eyes, her face dropping, as she pulled the razor down his cheek. He could hear her cleaning the razor in a bowl of warm water on the desk behind his head. She walked around to the front of him, he looked at her questioningly as she lingered there, just watching him.

And then suddenly she was in his lap, her thick brown legs on either side of him, her chest brushing against his. She ran her fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp, easing his head back, her eyes never leaving him.

"In the hospital, you were in the bed of course, hard to get a good shave from that position, so I would have to sit like this, to get the right angle," she explained as she continued to shave him. "It feels more natural to me this way now. Habit I guess."

She was silent for a while, the only sounds in the room were the razor against his face and the occasional swishing of the water in the bowl. He didn't know where to put his hands. The chair had no arms, and she was covering his thighs. At first he let them hang limply at his sides, but that grew uncomfortable the more he relaxed. As she moved the razor under his chin, dangerously close to his exposed throat, he gripped her hips, a gentle reminder that she should handle that area with care.

"That feels nice," she said so close to his face he could smell the mint of her toothpaste.

"What does?"

"You rubbing my thighs." He hadn't even realized he was doing it, just an absentminded motion, occupying his hands. He stopped abruptly after she mentioned it. "It's okay if you touch me."

"I don't want to distract you. I could end up a bloody mess."

"No way. I love this face. I always handle it with care, except the times when I had to slap you." She laughed soundlessly, her brown eyes lighting up with her smile.

"Smack me around a lot did you?"

"Only when you deserved it," she winked at him as she shaved above his lip.

He cocked his eyebrows. "Whatever could I have done to warrant such rough treatment?"

"Your mouth usually was what got you into trouble."

"Most women like my mouth. I can make it do such good things." He stuck his tongue out at her suggestively.

"Most women don't know you like I do. You're a wise ass, egotistical, spoiled, smug…"

"Easy there," he said squeezing her thigh. "You're going to give me a complex with all the compliments."

"All done." She placed another warm towel over his face, gently massaging the places she just shaved.

"You're good at this," he said from under the towel. "I feel all special and pampered."

"I'm sure Marcel would have done it better."

"Hopefully not in my lap though." He could hear her laughing, she was still on his lap, reaching over him to his desk. He removed the towel from his face, wiping off any excess shaving cream. "So how do I look?"

She smiled, touching his cheek with her hand. "Like my Sam." Tears were in her eyes again, though she tried to quickly cover them so he wouldn't see. She handed him a mirror and climbed out of his lap. "Check it out for yourself."

He was back. The face he remembered reflected back at him in the mirror, his chin visible once again.

"Thank you Mercedes."

"I put your pajamas on the bed. Do you need help getting undressed?" she asked as she cleaned up the shaving supplies.

"I get a choice? Marcel always insists on helping me."

"He just wants to impress you," she said louder from inside the bathroom.

"Please tell him not to bother. I think he's starting to enjoy himself a bit too much."

"In that case I definitely will. I'm not big on sharing." She leaned against the doorway between the bathroom and the bedroom, her legs crossed at the ankles.

"Neither am I." He'd had his fill of sharing his women with other people. For once he'd like to be in a relationship with a woman that wanted him and only him.

"Be sure to tell Quinn that, I'm not so sure she shares our attitude on the subject."

Sam frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know. From what I gather her reputation started long before the last three years."

"Okay don't start. Jealousy is not attractive on a woman."

"It's not attractive on a man either. You were a total jackass earlier," she said as she walked over to stand in front of him.

"I wasn't jealous. I just wanted to know why you couldn't be bothered to come and see me, yet you had all the time in the world for that Finn kid." She claimed to be so invested in his health, such a big part of his life, yet she didn't even check in on him for two weeks. It didn't sit right with him.

"He's my friend."

"I thought he was just Kurt's stepbrother."

She was acting suspiciously changing her story now. She probably had something going on with that college guy. He highly doubted she would sit around for nine months waiting for him to wake up. She'd put on a good show for his family, but behind closed doors she had to have someone else, they always did.

"He is. I guess he's my friend now too."

"So what? You bonded?"

"Something like that. His girlfriend just dumped him. I can relate to that pain." She sat down on the floor, crossing her legs Indian style.

"He's just playing you, looking for a rebound. I bet he doesn't even care about his ex." Men will say anything to get laid. Broken heart stories were on the top of 'ways to get sympathy sex' list. Mercedes didn't seem like the type to fall for lines though.

"He did care, maybe not how you care about yours. I don't think he was carving names in trees or singing to her in the science lab, but he's hurt."

He hated that she seemed to know so much about his life, and yet he knew very little about hers. He didn't like being one upped in any capacity. She had an advantage over him and he didn't like it all.

"He should take his pain to the bar like everybody else."

"He's underage."

"I should've known."

She laid down on her back, knees bent, giving Sam a clear view up the legs of her shorts. "Is this the part where you start moaning about my age again?"

"I can't believe my little cousin Kurt is older than my wife."

"You robbed the cradle Sam deal with it already."

He groaned, calculating that Mercedes would have been in high school just a few years ago. It all made him feel so old.

"How long were we together before we got engaged?"

She sat up, looking at him strangely. "Not long, you sort of swept me off my feet. I was 19 when I married you."

"I cannot believe I was sleeping with a teenager." Her cheeks looked flushed and he could tell she was ticked by the comment.

"You didn't seem to have a problem with it," she said coldly. "I would say you were very onboard with the idea. I was 17 the first time you got me in bed."

"What the fuck! No way!" He jumped up, almost forgetting he wasn't strong enough to walk yet. He held onto the back of the chair to keep his balance. "There is no way I was having sex with a high school student."

"I had finished school already. I was home schooled remember?" She was suddenly so calm, she actually looked satisfied by his reaction.

"Still sleeping with a kid is illegal in most states."

He sat back in the chair, running his hands through his hair as he let the new information settle in his mind. He had assumed she was legal when they had gotten together, still too young for him to believe that he ever went there, but at the very least he didn't think he had broken any laws. Now she was sitting in front of him, looking like a cheerleader, all bare legged, shiny and smooth, telling him he was having sex with her while she was underage. He needed a drink badly.

"You never saw me as a kid."

He believed her. He had to, or else he deserved to be locked away for being into kiddie porn. Even now he was very much attracted to her. He couldn't tear his eyes away from those legs.

"Probably what I had to tell myself to make it okay that I was having sex with a minor. What the hell happened to my life that I would do something like that?"

He was an executive for a Fortune 500 company. He might have forgotten the past three years, but he knew what types of women were in his orbit before then. There was no reason for him to be hitting the campus for dates, especially not underage ones.

"Must've been all those drugs. I mean why else would you like someone like me right? I mean you had model types throwing themselves at you, but you somehow ended up with little chunky nothing me."

He could hear the hurt in her voice and instantly regretted his choice of words. "I didn't mean it like that."

"How else could you mean it? You're acting like sex with me is the worst possible thing you could have ever done." Pain flashed across her face, transforming her smooth skin into creases.

"You know I don't feel that way. I think what almost happened between us at the hospital speaks volumes." She looked up, seeming surprised he mentioned the hospital. It probably was a bad move. He didn't need to dwell on that truly confusing time. "I'm just saying, it is hard to believe."

"Again, what's so hard to believe?" she asked clearly offended.

He just couldn't say the right things with her tonight. "You're so young. Did everyone know I was with you back then? I must have taken a lot of crap for this."

"We weren't together."

"But you just said we were sleeping together."

"I said you got me in bed. Nothing happened until I was 18. Happy now?"

She stood up, stretching out her back, her chest straining toward the ceiling. A bit of her stomach peeked through between her tank top and her shorts, smooth brown skin that looked like it would be incredibly soft to the touch.

"Not really, but at least you were legal. Explain the we weren't together part."

"You were in love with someone else," she said from the other side of the room.

"But I had sex with you?" he asked turning in his chair trying to see her.

"Yes and that's all I want to go into on that subject for now. I don't much like reliving the days when I was your consolation prize, hitting a little too close to home right now."

"Was I in love with Quinn?" he asked when she came to stand in front of him.

"It's always back to Quinn with you. You have this one track mind when it comes to her." She handed him some pills.

"Can you answer my question please?" He popped the pills in his mouth, swallowing them dry, not bothering to take the glass of water she offered.

"No you weren't in love with Quinn. You were engaged to someone else. Rachel." She urged the glass of water on him again, not moving until he took it, and downed it all. He handed her back the empty glass. Satisfied, she moved away.

"Rachel?" The name didn't ring a bell. He didn't recall dating anyone by that name. He must have met her during the forgotten years.

"Rachel Berry apparently she was your tragic love."

"Never thought I would end up with her." His mom had tried to hook them up once, and Sam had blown her off, too hung up on Brittany, besides Rachel was a bit young for him. Although now that he knew he married a teenager, Rachel seemed downright ancient in comparison.

"You didn't. She broke your engagement and you came crawling to me. Idiot that I clearly am, I let you in."

"So if you felt like second choice why did you even marry me?" None of this was making sense. Mercedes didn't seem like the type to take crap from anyone, especially him. He couldn't see her being with him if she thought he didn't want her.

"I had this problem that I just couldn't shake."

"Which was?"

"I was totally in love with you." She looked at him unflinchingly, her eyes wide and glassy. "Had been since almost the day we met, and no matter what I did, I couldn't get those feelings to go away. Still can't."

"Wow. I never thought…" He looked down at his hands, a smile forming on his face.

"Never thought you'd be married to someone so pathetic?"

He looked up, surprised she would even say that. How could she think loving someone was a bad thing? He knew he could be traditional and overly romantic when it came to feelings of the heart, a fact he tried very hard to keep under wraps, but it was sad to see someone so young be so cynical about love. He must have hurt her very badly.

"I was going to say I never thought someone would ever feel like that about me." Sam instantly wanted to take those words back. He felt exposed. She didn't need to know about his insecurities.

"Truth's revealed. I'm a sucker for you. Now you see why I stuck around even after you hurt me so much. I really need my head examined." Mercedes tried to laugh, but he could tell it was forced. This conversation was hurting her.

"I feel like I should be apologizing to you, and I'm not even sure what for."

This was a new experience for him, being blatantly the object of someone's affection. Sam wasn't quite sure how to handle it. Mercedes had more than a crush. She was in love. A few years back, he might have liked the idea, even willing to explore it, but now, with Beth and Quinn, he just couldn't go there with her. He wanted her to get over him.

"Don't worry about it. I've let all of that stuff go," she said casually, tugging at her braid. "Everything we've been through this past year just makes me want to start over, a clean slate."

"Like my memories of the past three years, a clean slate."

"Do you even want to remember those years?" she asked hugging her arms around herself, gently swaying in front of him.

"I don't like not knowing about my own life. It feels like I exist in a fog half the time. I want to know about all the changes with my family and friends, with my job. I have so many questions."

"What about me? Do you want to get to know me?" She bit her lower lip, as she waited for his answer. Sam looked away quickly, when he felt himself staring at her mouth for too long.

"Every time we talk I learn more about you."

"Do you want to know about us? You had all these questions about my age, but do you want to know why you were attracted to me? Do you want to know how we used to practically hate each other but were somehow connected at the same time?"

"I have many questions."

He kept his eyes trained on the floor, trying to avoid looking at her lips, or her legs. Toes, they were safe, he didn't have a foot fetish. Hers were painted pink. Very pretty. She actually had nice feet, they looked as soft and touchable as the rest of her. He quickly averted his gaze to the slats of wood on the floor, apparently they were the only safe place in the room.

"Do you want to know why you wanted to marry me so much that you proposed practically on our first date?"

Sam's jaw dropped. "I did that?"

"We were so good together." She climbed into his lap again, wrapping her arms around his neck, playing with the back of his hair. "You used to like me close, you could never get enough of me, said I was so sweet, like vanilla, like candy." She planted kisses along his jaw line, teasing the sensitive skin she just shaved. "Don't you want to remember us Sam?" she whispered low and husky in his ear.

God she smelled so good. He instinctively pulled her closer, flush against his body, his hands pulling at the end of her braid. She was everywhere, kisses all over his face, down his neck, her hands firmly clutching his scalp, he could feel her intensity, her desire. She wanted him so much.

Her soft lips like little stings wherever they landed, burning him on the inside, making him wish she would just stop teasing and kiss him properly. But she didn't, she danced around his mouth, taunting him with the possibility of her warmth, but never allowing him a taste. He couldn't take it anymore, her wiggling against his crotch, her hands now running down his chest. He needed air to breathe, away from the vanilla, before he did something he regretted.

"Mercedes don't." He leaned back, trying to flee her mouth, so full with a hint of pink.

"Don't what? Don't try to remind you how you used to feel about me? I know you feel something Sam. I can see it when you look at me."

Her tank top dipped lower as she moved, and he could see the soft swell of her large breasts.

"This is so wrong."

He couldn't do this, Quinn was waiting for him, he had to think about his future. Giving in to easy passion, just because it was being offered up was not how he wanted to live his life. He wanted more than that, family, a home. How could he sleep with Mercedes and then turn around and ask for anything with Quinn?

"No it's not. I'm your wife. I think we're finally doing something right."

Her body was on fire, he could feel the warmth through his clothes, she was more than ready to be with him. She molded against him letting him know she was his, and he could have her.

"I just can't. There's Beth and Quinn."

She stopped, sitting up to look at him, tears springing into her eyes. She shook her head. "You're not married to Quinn. You told me in the car, the night of the accident that you didn't want to be with her. You wanted me. You loved me."

"I can't remember that Mercedes."

She was crying in earnest now, her whole body shook with sobs as she tried to make him remember. It hurt to look at her, so upset, sharp pains in his chest. He gathered her in his arms, holding her tightly, grasping the back of her neck under her hair. "Please don't cry," he whispered against her ear. That seemed to make it worse, as her tears increased. Sam was at a loss on what to do to make this better.

Then he heard her say it, so quietly it felt like she had mouthed the words against his ear. "I love you." He pulled her from around his neck, smoothed her hair, and wiped the tears with his hands. "You promised you'd never stop loving me."

He could feel her pain in that moment, as vividly as if it had been his own. He didn't want this for her, she didn't deserve this. For a second, he wished that he could do something to make this right, anything, he wished for his memory back, all of those feelings. He wanted desperately to love her again, just so the pain would leave her brown eyes. He wanted that so much, that he kissed her. Leaning up to meet her lips, urging her head closer, tentatively at first, until he felt her arms encircle his neck.

With that he pulled her closer, kissing her deeply, her mouth opening, finally letting him taste that sweetness she had been teasing him with before, filled with her, consumed by her mouth, he couldn't get close enough, deep enough, kissing her harder every time she moaned. For one brief moment, he let it all go away, and just focused on her, pretending that he remembered feeling something for her, letting himself believe that her being his wife was enough. For a moment it was real, and it was good, as her body burned on his lap, and he kissed her breathless.

Then as he pulled back to get some air, to regain his senses, he saw her, her hair so dark instead of blond, her skin brown instead of pale, her eyes brown and not green.

"I don't feel it. I'm sorry, but I just don't." He pushed her off his lap, running his hands over his face, his clothes, futilely trying to remove her scent that clung to him.

She wasn't what he wanted. She couldn't be. There was no wishing away that fact. He wanted someone else.