Chapter 66

Everywhere she turned she could see them, shadow figures of their past selves when they were last in the room. Back then it had felt like their worlds had crumbled and there was no place lower for them to fall, if they only knew what their future held, maybe they would have tried to find some joy in those dark days instead of wasting them away in the oblivion of alcohol. Their foodless picnic in the middle of the room, the night Sam breached their self-imposed boundaries and held her all night while she cried, their balconies where the sunsets became the only thing either of them could look forward to each day. Unforgettable times created in this suite all rushing over her like waves as Quinn waited for Sam to arrive with building impatience.

It felt like Christmas that one year when she was home with her real family for the holidays instead of at a hospital or at some ski chalet with her parents and their stuff friends. The tree was lavishly decorated and her mom actually let her help. The fireplace was topped with candles and a huge pink stocking embroidered with her name hung proudly in the center of it all. Quinn remembered being so excited that she couldn't sleep, her little mind going at the speed of light, imagining all the toys Santa would leave. Sam was starting to feel like Santa tonight. She couldn't help hoping that his impending arrival would calm her nerves and make her smile.

Quinn really only needed to see his face, look into his eyes and she would know that everything was going to be okay between them despite their periods of silence throughout the night. Staving off the negative thoughts, about Sam hating her, about him letting her go, was getting harder as time progressed. What was taking him so long? She drummed her nails on the shiny wood of the bar, creating a rhythm that matched her racing mind.

"Quinn you're driving me crazy with that noise. Can you cut it out?"

Santana had been complaining almost nonstop from her perch on the couch. She had taken off her shoes and propped her legs out along the length of the couch. Quinn suspected that Santana was becoming just as anxious as she was, and her whines were her way of letting off her frustrations.

"Santana you don't have to stay here with me. I know you'd rather be with Brittany."

She shook her head as she reached for her bottle of water on the coffee table. "I'm here as moral support and moral support doesn't cut and run just because the man of the hour is late."

"Maybe he's not coming," Quinn said finally voicing the fear that had been building in the back of her mind.

There was a real possibility that Sam wasn't ready to speak to her tonight, even if Dr. Hill said otherwise. Quinn knew Sam so well, and she knew he was one to bury his head in the sand while he got his bearings together. Usually she was the one by his side trying to dig him out, but this time she was his reason to run.

"He'll be here," Santana stated sounding so sure of that eventuality.

"Maybe he's not here because of Mercedes." Quinn threw another one of her fears out for review.

Santana scrunched her nose. "Why would you say something like that? Sam's not going to let Mercedes keep him from you."

"Maybe you're right but what if Mercedes is poisoning him against me. She could stick it to me really bad."

"There's nothing that Mercedes could say that Sam would believe. You're the one he trusts. She's nothing to him, not really," said Santana dismissively.

"But I hurt him so much tonight Santana, first when he found out about me and Mike and then with the Beth stuff. Mercedes was right there to comfort him when he was upset at the party tonight."

Mercedes always seemed to manage to appear right when Sam needed someone, when he was in the hospital, when he collapsed in the nursery, when he had found out about her relationship with Mike. The odds were pretty good that Mercedes was doing her best nurse nightingale act and was doling out comfort to Sam right now. Without a doubt he needed it, his blank cold eyes haunted Quinn's thoughts. Going to their tree had broken something in him, or more accurately she had broken something in him. Desperately she wanted to make things right, to mend the cracks she had put in their relationship, to get his eyes to warm when he looked at her again.

"I was witness to her particular brand of comfort. Caught Sam all over her in that so called game lounge at the party. My eyes are still burning from the sight."

"Wait what? All over her? What does that mean?"

Santana sat up placing both feet on the floor visibly unnerved by what she had revealed. Always with a cover story, Santana quickly tried to downplay her last words. "Oh...I just meant they were hanging out, playing games."

"You're lying," state Quinn calling her friend out. "What was really going on?"

Santana sighed. "Fine, I did promise him I wouldn't tell you, but we're sisters and that trumps any Evans strong arming, but then again I did used to be his friend too and there is a bond from that, maybe I do owe him to keep his confidence…"

"Santana, just tell me what happened," she snapped impatiently.

"I walked in on Sam making the moves on Mercedes."

She felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs, though she really shouldn't have been so caught off guard by the news, Quinn knew that something was going on with Sam when it came to Mercedes, even with all his claims to the contrary.

"Making moves? Like kissing?" asked Quinn sinking into the chair across from the couch.

"Kissing, fondling, clothes undone, thank goodness I came in when I did or there might have been some serious sexage going on right there on the couch."

"Sexage? As in sex? Santana, are you saying he was that into it with her?"

"Uh…Quinn I don't want you to get upset for no reason. I told you before Mercedes has tricks up her sleeve and Sam is a man and men are weak, so yeah he might have been starting to fall into her trap, but I got there just in time to save him and I set him straight. I made him watch your press conference and once he saw your face he was like Mercedes who?"

"I can't believe this is happening." Quinn's heart was pounding in her chest, so strong and loud, she was sure Santana could hear it from the couch. "No wonder he was going on about Mercedes in his father's study. He practically had sex with her at his party. It explains why he didn't care when I told him I loved him. He probably was too busy having flashbacks of sex with his wife."

"Okay slow down. First I told you I interrupted, no sex happened, and second, you told him you loved him?"

"Yeah, I did." Quinn said with a small smile, relaxing a little.

Telling Sam what was in her heart, finally, felt good, even with the Mercedes shaped clouds hanging over their heads.

"Oh my God Quinn that is so amazing," Santana squealed with giddiness. "I'm so happy for you."

Happy that was something Quinn thought she would never feel again, not after losing Puck, losing herself and then losing her daughter. Leave it to Sam to find a way to bring her some happiness in the midst of all the turmoil that surrounded her life. He'd done it last year when they were here together, giving her a reason to get out of bed each day, easing her loneliness and heartache just by sticking around, by remaining her friend, and always having her back. Having him in her life was like a warm hug, open arms on the ready to catch her before she fell. Sam had never once failed to be there for Quinn, even when she knew it must have hurt him to be so close. Tonight was the first time it seemed like Sam wanted to turn away, to forget their friendship and forget her. Always her one constant, even when she was too caught up in her own life to realize he was there cheering her on from the sidelines or lending his shoulder when she was in need. Friends didn't come much better than Sam and all these years she didn't appreciate him.

Quinn turned her back to Santana so she could roll herself up in those cherished memories away from her friend's questioning eyes. Out of the corner of her eye she could almost see him, the ghosts of their time in the hotel last year. He was sprawled out on the bed, staring at the ceiling a glass of scotch in his hand. Tiny butterflies fluttered in her belly, gently stirring just from the memory of Sam's smile.

Quinn entered her darkened hotel room, closing the door softly, careful not to make any noise. It was after two but it seemed like dead of night in her room.

"Can you walk quieter?" asked a voice in the darkness.

"I'm on carpet. There is no sound," Quinn replied in a notch above a whisper.

Sam groaned. In the shadows, Quinn could see him occupying her bed, still in the same blue button down and black slacks from the night before, except now they were very wrinkled.

"Trust me there is. My brain hurts with every step you take."

"Your brain hurts because you drank a bottle of scotch," said Quinn as she crossed the room.

They had spent the bulk of the previous night together drowning their sorrows in expensive liquor, as they did every night since they took up residence at the Beacon Hotel.

"And then finished off your Ketel One."

She took a seat on the bed next to him. Somehow he had turned himself upside down and his head was now at the foot of the bed.

"I'm shocked you don't have alcohol poisoning."

"Never. I know how to hold my booze."

"Clearly." She patted him gently on the head, laughing lightly when he flinched at the contact. "You passed out on my bed."

Quinn had been sprawled out on the floor, mid vent when she had heard soft snores coming from her bed. Sam usually could drink her under the table and still wake up refreshed, but last night he had consumed an unusually large quantity of alcohol.

"This is your room?" he asked squinting up at her. "I thought it was mine."

"You've been here since last night. I had to roll you over so I could get in. And let me tell you it was no easy task. You're a heavy guy."

Being in the same room was against their self imposed rules, so sharing a bed was a definite violation, but there was no rousing Sam from his drunken slumber, and sleeping on the floor was not something Quinn was willing to do. Feeling brave that they could handle one night in close quarters without the world ending, Quinn climbed into her bed next to him.

Sam rolled over on his back. "Not nice making fat jokes when I'm too hung over to defend myself."

"I think it's sort of cute you got a little pudgy." She leaned over and poked him in his side. "You're like the Pillsbury dough boy, all soft and squishy."

"Hey! You take that back," he said sitting up. "I'm still all muscle, rock solid. Feel that." Sam flexed his bicep and held it out toward Quinn.

With a giggle, she tapped his curved arm. "Nice. Your arms do feel hard, but I was talking about this spot right here." She tickled his stomach, and Sam doubled over on the bed, laughing as she continued to tickle him. "Look at that, you even laugh like the dough boy."

Quinn tickled him some more, pursuing him across the bed when he tried to flee her hands. His hungover state made him such an easy target. He was moving far slower than he normally did.

"Stop I give up," he said out of breath from laughing. "You can have whatever you want." Now at the correct end of the bed, he leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes.

"You're in for it now," Quinn said joining him at the top of the bed. "I could have my way with you and you wouldn't be able to stop me."

Sam opened one eye and looked at her. "What man in his right mind would stop you? Do you know how many fantasies I used to have of you saying exactly those words to me?"

"If only you still had them. I could take all my frustrations out on you. Screw myself out of this misery."

He shook his head, closing his eyes again. "That attitude is exactly what got us here in the first place."

"I know," Quinn said quietly.

Sex was the easy way out, but after weeks of being ignored by Puck, she was willing to do just about anything to dull the pain. Drinking had stopped doing the trick for her long ago.

"Fine you can tickle me some more if it will make you feel better," said Sam leaning across her lap. "I promise to try not to throw up on the bed."

Quinn looked down at Sam as he relaxed against her legs, staring up at her with his slanted green eyes. "You're so good to me," she said pushing the hair from his forehead.

His face fell. "It's the least I can do after destroying your life."

"Stop right there. We are not going down this road again. How many times do I have to tell you that my break up with Puck is not your fault?" She leaned down close to him, hoping he'd get her point once and for all. He had wrongly been blaming himself for their one night together since it happened. "I was right there with you that night. I made the choice to sleep with you."

"I pushed you into it," he said sitting up.

"I didn't need much of a push. I never could resist you."

He shot her a disbelieving look. "You resisted me for years."

"Well once I had you, I never could resist you."

"There would have been nothing to resist if I hadn't been such a drunk ass."

"I was drinking too."

"Quinn, stop making excuses for me."

"Stop trying to take all the blame. I threw you down on the couch and crossed that line with you. I took what I wanted that night and now I'm paying for it."

She had never admitted it in such blunt terms before but that was precisely what happened. She had let herself give into the attraction she had always felt for Sam because of the distance between her and Puck after her hysterical pregnancy and she was feeling vulnerable and insecure. Sam being hurt and angry had just helped things along.

Sam let his head fall into his hands. "How did I let myself get so out of control? I could never imagine myself as someone that would cheat on my wife, not even with you."

"I think drunk and brokenhearted was your problem, a lethal combo. You would've slept with any woman that night. I just happened to be there."

"How can you say that Quinn?" he asked looking truly shocked. "I came to see you. I needed you. I didn't want just any woman. I wanted you."

He was being a gentleman of course, trying to protect her honor and make their one night seem like more than it was.

"Sam you came looking for Puck and you found me. You don't have to say that to make it more than it was. I get you were in a bad place."

"I'm not just talking. It's the truth." Sam took her hand in his, holding it tightly. "You saved me that night. I don't know where I would've ended up if you hadn't answered your door."

"I didn't save you. I screwed up your life."

"We messed up, no question, but you being there for me, God you're like this anchor in my life, this magnet, like..."

"Like the North Star?"

"Yeah," he smiled. "Remember when I told you that in high school? That you would always have a piece of my heart guiding you?"

"Of course I do." She smiled, filling herself with the memory of him back then. "You brought the stars inside that night."

"I was such a sap. No wonder you dumped me."

"You were the sweetest boy I had ever met. I'll never forget all the things you said to me in the hospital. And you know what's amazing? It was all true. You're still my constant, my rock, guiding me like the North Star," she said staring down at their joined hands. All these years later, Sam still hadn't let her go. He was holding her together now, just as he did then.

"We haven't lost each other yet."

Their eyes met and a strange silence fell over the room. It felt like the beating of her heart was deafening and she feared Sam could hear how it had picked up pace. Quinn dropped his hand and jumped up from the bed breaking the spell and putting some much needed space between them.

"And we never will," she said quickly. "Thank you for getting this room for me and taking me in when I had nowhere else to go," she said trying to lead them away from the subject.

Somehow the ghosts of the past had overtaken them and they were back to a time when they meant so much to each other, when holding hands and sharing a bed were the purest symbols of their connection. Remembering kisses shared in a dark hospital room under a white bed sheet was dangerous territory for them now, when their connection was supposed to be far less intimate.

"You will always have a place with me," said Sam sounding so sincere. "Never forget that."

She longed to hug him, rush back over to the bed and wrap her arms around his neck, and thank him for still letting that sweet boy she used to know live inside him. All the pain, the years, the distance, hadn't taken that part of Sam away, and Quinn was ever grateful, but she couldn't tell him that.

"I hope you feel the same after I do this." She pulled open the curtains that covered the sliding glass balcony doors, letting in the bright sunshine and hopefully chasing all the ghosts away.

"Oh no, not the sun," said Sam cringing and covering his eyes with his hand.

"Yes the sun. You need some light and some air."

"Are you trying to kill me?" he asked burrowing under the covers to get away from the light. "I just opened my heart to you and this is the thanks I get?"

With one knee on the bed, Quinn pulled Sam by the arm. "Come on Dough Boy let's get out on the balcony."

Reluctantly Sam got up from the bed, letting Quinn lead him by the arm.

"Oh God the world is spinning," he said when he stepped outside the balcony doors.

"You sit over here back from the rail." She directed him to a lounge chair. "I don't want you falling."

"Or projectile vomiting on the pedestrians below."

"Gross Sam," said Quinn turning up her nose.

He shrugged. "You've been warned."

"I'm going to order you some food." Quinn turned to head back inside.

"Wait," he said grabbing her by the hand stopping her. "Don't go. I'm feeling better really."

"You still need to eat."

"I need you to sit next to me. I don't want to be alone."

He dropped her hand and stared off into the horizon with that sad admission. Quinn felt herself inexplicably tearing up as she watched him in the warm sunlight.

"Sam what's wrong? You're starting to scare me." She sat beside him, trying to hide her trembling hands.

It was as if a switch had flipped and Sam had suddenly become incredibly sad, leaving Quinn at a complete loss on how to bring him out of this dark mood. For what seemed like endless minutes they sat in silence, him still staring out at the Lima city skyline, and her staring at him.

"She hired a lawyer," he said finally, still searching the sky.

"I'm sorry Sam," she said tentatively squeezing his knee. "But you had to know this was coming."

He let his hand fall on top of hers, the warmth of his skin bleeding into her. "I never thought she would take it this far. I always thought she was bluffing, you know? Then yesterday Burt calls me up and tells me Mercedes hired an attorney and that we need to pick a time to work out the terms."

"So when's your appointment?"

"Never. I told Burt to agree to whatever she wants."

"Sam…" she started, totally blown away by what he had revealed. "That's crazy. She could clean you out."

"I don't care. I hurt her," he said standing up and leaning against the rail. Quinn sat up in her seat, on edge with him so close to the railing. "Besides she doesn't want my money."

"You do know who you married right? Con artist, tried to bilk D&E for millions."

"She's not like that anymore," he said quickly, his tone making it clear that the subject of Mercedes's character was not up for debate.

"If you say so, but in my experience, people don't change that much, you need to let Burt protect your assets."

"Any day the papers could come." He turned his back to her and leaned forward over the rail. "What am I going to do then Quinn?"

Quinn stood up in a panic. Projectile vomit was the least of her worries, what if Sam decided to do something much worse?

"Hey, look at me," she said putting a hand on his back until he turned to his side and faced her. "You will get through it, just like you've gotten through everything else. This seems bad now but things will get better. I promise you there will be good times again one day."

"How can you promise me that? Mercedes is my whole life and I'm losing her."

He drifted away from her, his focus back on the horizon, but Quinn wouldn't let him go, taking both his hands she pulled him to her, inches from her body. They shouldn't have been that close, the boundary had been crossed, but Quinn didn't care. She wasn't going to lose him to the darkness that was pulling him toward the skyline.

"She's not your whole life. You have your family, your work, and you have me. I'm not going anywhere." She squeezed his hands willing him to believe her, to dispel the skepticism from his eyes.

Finally he looked at her truly, and whatever had held him broke free, and the clouds left his eyes and he was seeing her again. With a sad smile he pulled her into a tight hug, enveloping her completely in his arms.

"I guess I did gain a little weight but it was only because I was happy," he said against her ear. "For the first time in my life I was completely satisfied. You know?" He stepped out of their embrace.

"I know. I was teasing before, the weight looks good on you." She paused tucking a stray hair behind her ear, observing him a moment. "Happy looks good on you," she added.

"I'm going to start hitting the gym more often again. I should at least have my abs back if I can't be happy."

"Or we can get burgers and fries –"

He shook his head backing away. "I think I'm going to be sick. I can't even stomach the thought of food."

"Come on Sam. It will make you feel better. We can split a piece of chocolate cake."

He hesitated before responding. "I don't think so."

"Don't make me tickle you again," she said playfully.

"Fine you win," he said conceding defeat.

"I knew I would."

"But you better get two pieces of chocolate cake. I'm not much for sharing."

She poked him in his side, tickling him a little. "I can tell Dough Boy."

"Hey I thought we were playing nice," he said the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "No more fat jokes."

"How can I resist when you smile like that each time I do it?"

He sighed as he reached over and let his finger tangle in a lock of her hair.

"Thank you," he said with small smile before turning to stare out at the horizon once more.

"Can we get out of here?" Quinn asked pulling herself back to the present. "I don't think I can take it anymore in this room."

"That sounds like an amazing plan," said Santana perking up from her seat on the couch. "Where are we heading? Palm Springs? Tahoe? We could hit a spa, get some sun. I'm sure I can get Dave to foot the bill, he owes me big time."

Quinn smiled sadly at her friend's enthusiasm. A spa sounded like a wonderful escape right now, but running away was the last thing she needed to do.

"I can't leave the state Santana. I only just got home."

It felt strange to use that word, especially when she was standing in the middle of a hotel suite provided solely by Sam's generosity, but for the first time in months, Quinn felt closer to a finding a real home. Beth and Sam were in Lima so that's where she needed to be. Her home was with them.

"Out of the room works too. All of this sitting around and waiting for Sam was starting to feel a little bit pathetic. He kept us all hanging for nine months. It's his turn to wait around."

Quinn shook her head at her friend's logic. "He was in a coma."

"Yeah I know and now he's not. Time for him to stop milking it. Nobody has time to wait on his ass. So where do we go? The bar?" asked Santana standing up and slipping her shoes on her feet.

"Oh God, no drinking. That's like all me and Sam did last year, besides I know some seedy gossip blogger is probably camped out down there just waiting for me." Quinn had noticed a few suspicious characters in the lobby when Daley had dropped her off earlier. They were trying hard to blend in, but after months of being under media scrutiny Quinn was starting to be able to sense a reporter on sight. "Let's go to the gym. Maybe if I get on the treadmill I can walk off some of this tension."

Santana groaned as she opened the door and peered out into the hall. "Exercise? That's the last thing I want to do on a Friday night."

"You don't have to come you know," said Quinn pulling on her Uggs. No sneakers in her limited selection of Quinn so working out in boots would have to do. "Go home to Brittany."

"No no, I am with you till the end my sister," insisted Santana. "Put on your hoodie and your shades and let's head down there."

Placing the sunglasses on her face, Quinn hesitated. "I better leave Sam a note, just in case he shows up while we're gone."

"Tell him you were so hot and bothered reliving all the sexy times you shared in this room that you had to work off all that steam."

"I'm not writing that," Quinn said as she quickly wrote the note. "And for the record I wasn't having sex memories. Sam and I have never slept together." Santana crossed her arms and threw her a look. "Okay we never had sex here at the Beacon. It wasn't like that between us then. It was so much deeper than that. This was our haven, just the two of us. Everyone was despising us, Mercedes and Puck blamed us for ruining their lives. It was awful, but in here together…" Quinn smiled as she stepped into the hallway and taped the note to the door. "We kept each other safe."

"That actually sounds incredible. You're so lucky to have had each other during all that."

"Too bad he can't remember any of it," said Quinn deflating a little.

Sam's memory loss had never been much of a concern for Quinn. He remembered most things and he hadn't forgotten her the way he had Mercedes, so she considered herself fortunate. But when she thought of the Beacon and all they shared here, it was sad she was the only one that held those memories now. The one capsule of time that bonded them more than any other, that essentially changed everything between them, was a complete blank to Sam. During that time they had become closer than they had ever been. Quinn had felt closer to him than anyone she'd ever been with before. She knew she could tell him anything and he would understand and wouldn't judge her. He knew what she needed just by looking in her eyes, by the tone of her voice, and he held her almost instinctively whenever he sensed she felt alone. Nothing had ever felt as right in her life as being with him at the Beacon. "God I missed him so much," she said under her breath.

Santana put her arm around Quinn's shoulder as they walked down the hall toward the stairwell. "Well he's back now and you have a real chance at a fresh start. Stuff like this only happens in movies."

Destiny, that's what it felt like, the stardust of fairytales and epic love stories. What could be more perfect than first loves reunited after years of making the wrong choices and loving the wrong people? Quinn loved the idea of sharing a future with Sam and Beth. She got all tingly down to her toes whenever she thought about it, but then the clouds cleared, and her happiness faded as reality set in. No matter how right this felt to her, deep down Quinn knew there was something very wrong overshadowing it all. This was her dream, not Sam's. Before the crash Sam had hoped for a very different life for himself, with a very different partner.