Chapter 60

The cold earth cracked under Quinn's feet, the sound unnaturally loud in the dead silence of the night. The moon was full, but beneath the thick canopy of trees, even without their leaves it was barely visible. Luckily Daley had thought to bring flashlights, giving each of them one before they started their trek into the darkness. Sam hadn't said a word to her since they started walking, in fact his silence began in the car before they had even arrived. Quinn had done most of the talking during the car ride, something that was quite unusual for her, not that she was shy as she used to be especially around him, but Sam was always the more talkative one. She couldn't blame him for keeping quiet. Quinn could only imagine what was going through his mind after finding out she left their daughter in the snow. What worried her most was what he might say once he started talking again.

Sam's temper was known to surface especially when he was under great stress. Quinn had witnessed it a few times already that night. She could only brace herself for his rage again. Worse than his rage was the unknown, Sam being mad was to be expected, but what would happen after that? How would he be with her once he knew everything that had happened to Beth? Quinn's stomach was in knots as her own imagination illustrated numerous outcomes to that scenario, none of them pleasant. So she tried to sway things, smooth things over with him by talking about happier times, like their stay at the Beacon. Really it had been more for her than him. She felt compelled to cling to all the good memories she could remember just in case there would never be any again.

Thinking of the best of times with Sam always led her back to one place, the Beacon. It was there that everything she had ever felt for him came to an inevitable head. Now that she was able to admit to herself that she started to fall for Sam at the Beacon, remembering that time was so much easier. She felt less guilty for cherishing those weeks they had spent together. And with the weight lifted she felt free to share those memories with him. The timing was all wrong, but again it was more about her than him, so she tried to get him to see that what was between them happened long before the crash, before she lost her sanity and did the unthinkable. Quinn guessed she wanted Sam to see that loving him was not a condition of her illness but something remarkable that grew before PPD took hold. Sam didn't seem to understand her though, and perhaps she was rambling, it was difficult to express what was in her heart, even now, after she had finally told him she loved him.

Quinn couldn't help but smile at the thought. She was in love with Sam Evans. Never would she have thought life would have brought her here, full circle to where they began. It made her shiver with emotion as she contemplated that her first love turned out to be her deepest and truest love. Their feelings for each other had somehow managed to survive, weathering every storm, only to deepen and strengthen just like those initials Sam had carved in that tree all those years ago. They were bolder and more entrenched than they had ever been, a permanent mark, resilient, and strong like the tree he had chosen to carve on.

Now with her heels partially sinking into the frozen earth, and the dim light of their two flashlights guiding their steps, they made their way back to that spot where their love began. When she had brought Beth along this very path last year, it had felt like she was marching toward something big, toward a light, toward hope. In her mind she was certain that Sam would find a way to meet them there by that tree, he would somehow be guided to that spot, to be with them, to save them. Quinn had almost broken into a run with Beth's baby seat in one hand, the sound of her cries muted in her mind. All she could think about was getting to the place where Sam would be waiting. Of course when they arrived at the clearing and Quinn pointed her flashlight to the great oak tattooed with their initials she found herself painfully alone. Beth's cries broke through, echoing at full volume, and reality came crashing in, if only for a moment. Sam wasn't there, and he wasn't coming. He was lost to her, just as he had been for so many months.

"Quinn where are we going?" Sam asked from behind her.

She shook herself from her thoughts, pulling herself to their current task. This wasn't a leisurely lover's stroll back to the place that used to mean so much. Sam wasn't holding her hand or staring into her eyes. He was tense behind her, uncomfortably silent as he probably thought the worst of her the longer they walked.

"We're almost there," she replied reaching back to grab his hand. Surprisingly he took it, his cold strong fingers gripping hers.

"Where's here?" he asked closer to her now.

"Don't you recognize it? I guess you wouldn't it is pretty dark and things have grown since you were last here. They've grown since last year actually. I guess it is true what they say about the woods, that it's a living breathing animal that consumes."

"Quinn…"

"Sorry," she laughed nervously. "I guess I am trying to fill the silence."

"I don't like not knowing where I am. I feel like we are hiking to nowhere."

"It's not nowhere Sam. I promise." She squeezed his hand tighter and picked up her pace fearing that she might lose him before they got to their destination. She could feel him pulling against her as they walked.

Tree branches hit her face as she walked and she stumbled over the uneven ground as she pushed forward in the near darkness. Sam moved his hand to her back, steadying her as she walked.

"The last time I was here. It wasn't dark. The sun was starting to set, but I didn't need a flashlight. It is much harder to navigate now."

Sam stopped turning her around by her elbow. "I'm not going any further until you tell me where we are? Why are we in the woods in the middle of the night? I asked you to take me to the spot where you left Beth."

"I am. It's not much more," she said studying his face. His chiseled features looked jagged in the low light. His face almost expressionless, like marble, frozen and smooth. "Oh, you've got a scratch on your face, must be from a branch," she said shining her flashlight in his direction. She swiped her finger across the spot on his cheek.

Sam recoiled at her touch. "I'm fine Quinn. Just leave it," he said roughly pushing her hand away, his eyes growing cold as he looked at her.

She looked away trying not to let the blank look in his eyes rattle her. "When we get out of here I'll have to put something on it. I would hate for you to have a scar."

"Quinn…" he said with a loud sigh.

"I don't like when you say my name like that. Like you're annoyed with me."

"I'm just tired of being trapped by the unknown."

"Sam I need you to know something." Suddenly it felt so important to get the words out again, to remind him of what was in her heart and of how much he meant to her. In that moment everything seemed to depend on it. "Sam the way I feel about…"

"Quinn what's that?" he asked interrupting her sentence. He was pointing his flashlight over her shoulder into the darkness.

"I don't know," she whispered not daring to turn around.

Her stomach dropped as Sam stepped around her, moving past her in the direction of the light. Quinn remained motionless listening to his footsteps as he walked on.

"Quinn no," she heard him say from a few feet away. She cringed, tears welling in her eyes. "Quinn you didn't. Not here. Not here." His voice was raspy with pain, as if he had been yelling the entire night.

So quickly had everything shifted, minutes ago her hands were on his face, now he was almost a ghost, so removed from her. If she reached out to touch him she knew she would feel only air.

"This is our tree," he said, shock evident in his voice.

"I know," she said quietly, probably too low for him to hear.

"Is this where you left our daughter? Was my baby here cold and alone, in the middle of nowhere?"

Quinn could hear the horror in his voice, like they were standing in the bowels of hell, instead of at their beautiful place in the woods.

"It's not nowhere, it's our spot," she said defensively, her back still to him.

"There are ribbons and bears. Who did this? Did you put this here?"

"I haven't been here since that night."

She hadn't been free to venture anywhere since that night. After Puck pulled her from the river she was quickly taken into custody. Never would she have imagined that her first days of freedom would be spent like this, shivering in the woods with Sam.

"Come over here. You need to see this."

"I don't want to," she said shaking her head. "I haven't been back."

Only in the safety of her mind did she come back to this spot. Not even in her sessions with Dr. Hill did she bring up their tree and its meaning. Keeping it under her protection, away from scrutiny and dissenting voices, she didn't want people that didn't understand to tarnish the beauty of their tree. It was only in the quiet of the woods that she had Sam to herself, where she was free to love him, without judgment. And at the foot of the tree she lovingly placed their daughter, nestled in blankets to wait for her father in the one place he would know to look. Now that her mind was clearer she realized the haziness of her thinking, but for a time these woods were the only place she felt at peace.

"I need you to look at this place and see what you did to Beth." Sam was practically pleading with her.

What could he possibly want to show her so badly? Quinn already knew where they were. She'd memorized it all over the years. When things got bad with Puck, then Mike, and the Puck again, she would think about their tree carved with the heart and wrap herself in the feelings it brought. A reminder that things had been good once, and that she had been loved well and completely.

"I know what I did. I left her at our special place for you." She cried, warm tears streaking her cold face. "You were supposed to come and find her."

"You knew I was in coma. You knew I couldn't come. You left her here to die didn't you?"

Quinn shook her head sobbing. He didn't understand. Sam had it all wrong. Why didn't he understand? He always understood. She never would hurt her baby.

"Answer me Quinn!" His voice moved closer, but she didn't dare turn her flashlight to follow the sound. "Did you leave my baby here to die?"

"No! I wanted her to have you, to have a good life. I couldn't be her mother. But you would come and love her and keep her safe."

All she ever wanted for Beth was him, even when it was wrong to feel such things. When she should have been happy Puck was her baby's father, instead she prayed for a miracle that would give Sam to her unborn child. That miracle was granted and here they were sharing that precious gift, yet the celebration had ended far too soon, as Quinn winced with each word Sam spoke.

"Do you call this safe? You left her in the woods where no one could find her."

"Someone did find her though."

"Who was it?" he asked.

"A hunter. He left something and went back to get it."

"Oh my God." Branches cracked behind her, loud and deliberate as if Sam was breaking the wood with his hands. "So it was a miracle Beth survived?"

"What do you mean? People hunt here all the time."

"Not after dark. Hunters don't go back for things they lost, not in the dark when they can't see shit in the dense forest." More sounds of wood breaking surrounded her, almost rhythmically matching the rise of his voice. "So basically you left her here for anything to get her."

"You're getting upset."

"Of course I'm upset. This is the middle of nowhere and you left a baby here, our baby."

"I thought nothing would happen to her here."

"Come over here," said Sam suddenly beside her, grabbing her by the arm. He yanked her back toward the tree.

"No I don't want to!" she screamed pulling away from him, dropping her flashlight in the struggle. The light went out when it hit the ground. She dropped to her knees to find it, her pantyhose ripping on the rugged terrain. Arms were around her waist lifting her to her feet, then higher still, her feet dangling above the ground.

"Look what you did!" he yelled in her ear as he hoisted her closer to that tree.

Quinn squeezed her eyes shut not wanting to see. He couldn't make her see. She already knew what it was, their beautiful tree with a heart and their initials. She didn't want to see it in the dark with him.

"Quinn open your eyes," he said against her face, the wetness from his cheek transferring to her own.

"Sam don't make me do this. I don't want to," she begged. Twisting in his arms she tried to hold him in an embrace instead of being imprisoned against his chest.

"Open your fucking eyes!" he yelled inches from her face his breath hot against her.

She trembled in his arms, he was scaring her. She had never seen Sam so angry. Abruptly he dropped her on her knees at the base of the tree, her eyes were still closed but she could feel the thick roots beneath her. Something cold and stiff touched her cheek, it smelled like rotted earth, like dying vegetables at the end of the harvest. She turned her head, fleeing the smell.

"What is that?" she asked.

"It's a bear. One of many disgusting dirty bears left out here in the woods."

"They sent her bears in the hospital," she sniffled. Tons of bears arrived for Beth, not that Quinn was there to see them in person, but the news reported on them quite frequently, bears for the little forgotten girl.

"Oh God," she cried harder crumbling at the thought of all the teddy bears mocking her, pointing blame, silently whispering that she was a killer. "She didn't die. Why did they do that?"

"I don't know Quinn. Maybe because they cared, maybe because she could have died."

She hadn't even realized she said that last part out loud.

"She wasn't going to die. You were…"

"Quinn stop! Just stop it! I wasn't coming and you knew it. You dumped my baby in the woods and walked away."

She could hear him pacing in front of her, his shoes scrunching in the dirt with each step.

"It wasn't like that. I told you I left a note for you and Mercedes. I left her for you. You were supposed to come."

A scream, more like a roar into the wind, slicing through the forest like a tidal wave of sound, the leaves trembled and the earth shook, as rage and despair filled the clearing in the woods. And then he was beside her, shaking and out of breath. She knew there were tears, she could hear him trying to gulp them back, to stifle his emotions like men often do, but Quinn felt him next to her losing control.

Crawling forward on hands and knees, keeping her eyes averted toward the ground, she retrieved the flashlight Sam had discarded and brought it back to her spot by his side. Still Sam suffered, his knees pulled to his chest, his head buried there. She'd done this, brought Sam to the edge, pushing him down with all she'd done. Suddenly she saw him next to her standing at the edge of the dock, staring into the dark water, ready to take her hand and jump with her. Her mind was screaming to stop him, even as she knew it wasn't real, she still couldn't shake the feeling that Sam was headed to place where no one would be able to get him back. She couldn't let that happen.

"It felt good when I left Beth here," she said slowly rising to her feet, the flashlight trained toward the ground. She looked out into the darkness, the tree invisible to her eyes, but she knew it was there. She reached for it, her hands hitting its rough bark. "Beth stopped crying as I walked away, and I knew I had made the right decision, because she was always so unhappy with me." Tears flowed into her mouth, but she didn't bother to wipe them away, instead she let her hand trace the surface of the tree searching for the mark she knew would be there. Finally she found it, an indent in the bark. Her fingers followed the outline of a heart, their love forever displayed here. "It wasn't until I was in the car and driving back toward town that I heard her cry again. It was so loud. I even looked in the back seat, as if by some magic Beth had reappeared in the car, but it was empty, but I could still hear her crying. And I kept telling myself, she's going to be alright. She was better off and you and Mercedes would give her a good life. I parked in the warehouse parking lot, and walked toward the docks, the whole time Beth was crying in my ear while I looked in the water, and the crying wouldn't stop. I actually hesitated. I was going to go back and get her, because maybe you hadn't gotten there yet and maybe she needed me. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw her, that other me, that confident girl I used to be, the girl I lost and she was there beckoning to me to come, and then I saw you, and the crying just stopped. I knew then that Beth would be okay. That I had done the right thing."

"And you jumped?" asked Sam startling Quinn from her thoughts.

"No." She smiled raising her flashlight up the tree, to shine its light on their initials. "No, I flew."

She sucked in her breath when she saw it, bolder than she had remembered, deeper now, the carving had become part of the tree, reaching far beneath the surface bark. It struck her the same way it had that night a year before, this was a perfect place that held all that they ever meant to each other in exalted status. Then she looked lower and saw the tattered ribbons surrounding the tree like a sash, one yellow, one pink with sagging faded bows. She tilted the flashlight downward below the bows to the mangy stuffed toys that littered the base of the tree, scattered around it like a fungus, so out of place in the pristine beauty of the spot. She rocked on her feet, suddenly feeling overly warm like all the air had left her lungs and darkness was encroaching on her.

Then he was there, hands on her elbows holding her steady, safe and protected, his chest pressed against her back. She had dreamed of being in his arms in this very spot so many times before. All those nights in the psych ward where she tried to convince herself that leaving Beth by their tree was about loving her daughter and about loving Sam, it was with good intentions, and not because she was selfish or evil like they said in the media, but seeing the tree in the glow of the flashlight she realized she had been deluding herself all this time. There was nothing good about this place now, not in the dark, not in the cold, not with the way she was sure Sam was looking at her.

She hadn't braved his face yet, too terrified at what she might find, but now she had to know. For the first time she couldn't pretend that all of this was romantic and about their family. She had fractured their lives, carved a scar through everything they had dreamed, just as Sam had scarred that oak tree with a promise of a love that never quite came true.

Quickly she turned, shining the light in his face, and Sam didn't look away, he stared back at her, tired, cold, red rimmed eyes. The green that usually held so much warmth, looking through her, unrecognizable after years of finding comfort in his familiar gaze, that light she always saw reflected in his eyes whenever he looked at her had finally gone out.

Quinn let the flashlight fall from her hand, cloaking them in darkness when it hit the ground. This really was nowhere. They were lost in this place and Quinn wasn't sure they would ever find their way back.