A/N: I don't even have any words to say for myself. It's literally been a year. I'm sorry. Please forgive any lingering errors, I did try to edit, but you know...

Mercedes sighed out a tired breath as she walked through the front door and immediately kicked off her boots. It'd been a long day at work filled with whiney students that made her want to scream and pull her hair out in angry clumps and she was more than over it by the time she'd made it home that evening.

It hadn't helped that she hadn't been able to keep anything down all day either. Her body seemed to revolt at the mere smell of food and—when she hadn't been dealing with the college level Rachel Berrys in her department thinking they could whine their way to the top in a cloud of privilege and self-entitlement—she'd been hunched over the ladies' room toilet emptying out the contents of her stomach and wondering what she'd done in a previous life to deserve this day.

Foregoing a trip to the kitchen for dinner—it seemed pointless if it was only going to come back up in a few minutes regardless—she headed straight up the stairs to her and Sam's bedroom, letting herself fall in a dejected heap onto the bed. She let out a miserable groan as she shuffled onto Sam's empty side and buried her face into his pillow.

After her horrid day, she'd only wanted some peace—a glass of wine, and maybe a cheesy movie she could laugh at. Some cuddles from her fiancé to make her forget about the idiots of the world would also have been just what the doctor ordered, but she couldn't even have that today.

Sam was away on one of his work trips—a fact which definitely wasn't helping with the sour mood she was in. It'd been difficult enough letting him go earlier that morning, his impending absence hitting her harder than it usually did, and the day definitely hadn't made that any better. It was almost overwhelming how much she missed him.

She'd gotten texts from Tina and Kurt throughout the day, inviting her out around the city with them for the evening—dinner and drinks at some trendy spot or another—but she'd ended up excusing herself out of any plans, not really feeling like dressing up and hanging out without Sam that night. She hated acting like the clingy type with no life outside of her man, but she couldn't help it sometimes.

All the while he was working his way up into the role of pretty kickass fiancé, Sam had also wheedled his way into the role of her best friend—the one who watched bad television shows with her, never actually listening to any of it in favor of providing a running commentary on it the whole time to amuse each other, the one who went on junk food runs with her at 3am when the urge struck and she just had to have some peanut M&Ms, the one who sent her Ryan Gosling meme's via text when he knew she was in the middle of work meetings and couldn't laugh, the one who dissolved into laughter with her over the dumbest things that no one else would even understand.

He knew her inside and out, from the stuff that was out there for everyone to see to the most intimate, minute things that she'd never spoken aloud—or even noticed about herself. She couldn't help but miss that whenever he was away from her, especially on a night when she felt so out of sorts.

Sighing, she shifted on the bed to pull her phone out of her purse. The screen came to life when she pressed the home button, and a sad smile pulled at her lips as her and Sam's smiling faces came into view in the background picture. For a brief moment, she ran her thumb gently over Sam's face before she rolled her eyes at herself and locked the screen again. Sighing she buried her face once more into his pillow, keeping her eyes closed as she just breathed in and out.

What was this behavior? she thought. He'd literally only left that morning and she felt ridiculous for being so emotional about it.

You have the whole house to yourself, Mercedes Jones, she thought idly. Usually, she longed for those days.

She loved living with Sam, but his was a presence that could fill a room, she thought with a laugh. It'd definitely taken some compromise when she'd decided to make living with him a permanent arrangement. Finding ways to marry his dork to her diva in their little apartment had definitely been a trial at first.

Some things had been easy, like Sam gladly giving her majority of the closet space and most of the room on their bathroom counter. In return Mercedes had let him keep the set of framed vintage Avengers posters hanging on the wall above their bed—though nothing killed sexytimes faster than idly looking up to find the Captain proudly saluting you or Thor stoically keeping watch.

She'd made the mistake of telling Sam about her discomfort one night during sex when her eye had randomly caught the Hulk's angry eyes and their lovemaking had come to an abrupt end as Sam helplessly laughed for the entirety of the next fifteen minutes and Mercedes had extracted herself from his arms in a huff and disappeared into their bathroom.

He'd made sure to buy a lamp for the nightstand the next day that enabled them to turn off the main lights in the room, allowing them enough light to encase themselves and shroud his superheroes in darkness above them. He had, however, earned himself a side-eye or two for saluting the Captain or crying out "For Asgard!" many a night before he shut off the lights and pulled her close to him.

Other things, like his morning and evening routines, had been harder, proving to be a bit different than what Mercedes was used to. Sam, as it turned out, was kind of an all day person, always chipper and bursting with energy. Where Mercedes couldn't function correctly until somewhere around noon, and never without Starbucks first, Sam was usually up with the sun, singing country songs loudly in the shower and making a world of noise as he puttered around the room getting ready—oblivious to all the grunts and side-eyes thrown his way. His bedtime routine was more of the same, weaving over and under and sometimes completely into hers. Her makeup removal time was his brushing his teeth time. Her picking the next day's outfit time was his exercise all over the room time. Her make up removal time was his 'Oh were you busy? You mind if I distract you with a few kisses?' time. And naps were veritably outlawed when he was home as he always saw fit to get handsy if he was around her for any prolonged period of time. Reading and Lifetime were also out.

Tonight, however, his absence provided a litany of options that were usually out of the question. She could sit and read quietly and he wouldn't be there to distract her by suddenly remembering something that happened ten years ago that he simply had to tell her right then. Or she could take a long, hot shower without him inviting himself under the spray, complaining about the temperature, then distract her from the task at hand all together. She could even get through a marathon of a few Game of Thrones episodes without his constant pausing to try out his impressions of all the characters on her.

Literally, the gamut of opportunity lay before Mercedes for her choosing, but she was surprised to find, she only wanted him in that moment. After her shitty day, she'd passed up friends and a night out for the comforts of home, but even ensconced within the four walls, held within the four posts of their bed, that still wasn't complete without Sam. Every bit of him, even the annoying shower songs at the crack of dawn, was a part of her now. He was what made this a home for her, and the fact that, in his absence, all she could do was curl up into his side of the bed and miss him drove that point home for her.

Their connection had always been strong—even when they'd just started out in high school. They'd gotten teased endlessly, even then, for seemingly skipping the dating phase and heading straight to old married couple. They communicated constantly to the point where their friends placed bets on the longest times they could stay away from each other, which was never very long. All too soon, they'd text each other or tweet or call.

The connection had only gotten stronger in the last couple of years with them living together. She'd been hesitant at first, despite Sam's eagerness for her to finally come to New York and his assurance that this was the right step for them. She'd been reluctant to take such a huge step that would change their relationship forever—but now, she couldn't imagine her life another way. The risk had been worth it tenfold. Waking up to him, falling asleep in his arms, and every bit of their lives in between intertwining—that was part of her now. She wouldn't have changed any of it for the world.

Her phone buzzing to alert a text brought her out of her thoughts and she smiled at the sight of Sam's name on her screen. Immediately, she unlocked the screen and burst out laughing at the sight of a very sad Ryan Gosling declaring how sad he got when they couldn't watch Golden Girls together. Underneath it came Sam's words, "but seriously...I MISS YOU."

Mercedes found herself dialing before she could think about it and it was only a ring and a half before Sam's voice filled the space on the other half. "Hey, girl," he said jokingly by way of greeting, making Mercedes laugh. She could hear commotion around him, indicating that he was probably in the locker room before the team's game. Immediately Mercedes' smile faltered.

"Hi," she answered quietly. "You're busy. I can call—."

Sam cut her off. "I'm busy talking to you."

"But—," she started only to get cut off again.

"But nothing. It's fine, Mercedes," he said. "I wanted to check in anyway. Are you feeling any better? You had me worried this morning." Mercedes could hear the concern in his voice and her thoughts flashed momentarily to that morning before he'd left—her emotional tears at the prospect of him leaving and the way she'd practically clung to him.

"Yeah," she lied aiming for breezy, not wanting to worry him, but he immediately shut that down saying her name sternly. She immediately recognized the no nonsense tone and could just see his face rearranging into an expression that said, "Don't lie to me."

When she only sighed in response, she could hear him moving away from the noise around him. It only took a moment and then all was quiet. Just the two of them and their softs breaths traveling through the sound waves.

"Alright, baby. The truth this time," Sam finally said after a long moment.

"It was just a hard day," Mercedes admitted softly. "I was just...out of it the whole day at work and not just body-wise. I don't know, but I just didn't feel like myself. My mood was all off and I spent the entire day throwing up."

Sam released a long breath and groaned down the line. "Fuck." It came in a gravelly mutter. "I knew I should have stayed home. This has been like a week of this now, babe. It's not passing. We should have gone to the doctor."

"Don't beat yourself up. You took good care of me," she told him, remembering all of his at home remedies. "I guess it's just more serious than we realized. I'll try and see if I can get an appointment this week. It's probably just a persistent...I don't know...stomach bug or something."

"You shouldn't be alone when you're sick like this," he insisted. "Maybe I should come home. If something happens in the house..."

"Don't. I'm fine, Sam. Really. I don't even feel that bad," Mercedes insisted. "I'll go to the doctor. I promise."

"Maybe Tina or Mike could come with you," he suggested.

"I'll ask," Mercedes agreed.

"Okay," he accepted in a low whisper. "I really do miss you," he said a moment later and Mercedes could hear the smile in his voice.

"I miss you, too," Mercedes replied quietly, then scrunched her face up a moment later in thought. "Actually I think I really do need a doctor...for my head at least," she said nodding her head. "Because I even miss you singing Keith Urban at the top of your lungs in the shower...so something's obviously wrong," she said with a laugh.

"Oh," Sam said, and by his tone, Mercedes anticipated whatever he said next would be ridiculous. He didn't disappoint. "Well, why didn't you just say so?"

Before she could even respond, he'd launched into an ear splitting chorus of Somebody Like You. She listened to the whole thing, laughing uncontrollably and all out crying of laughter when she heard a knock on the door in the room he was in. His assistant Nathan's voice came through the line a moment later asking if he was okay.

"I'm good," Sam answered seriously and Nathan disappeared again.

"Sam Evans," Mercedes sighed a moment later, trying to get her laughter under control.

"And there's more where that came from," he informed her.

"Oh, I'm sure. I've heard, actually," Mercedes teased and Sam merely chuckled. "Well, I'll let you go," she said quietly after a moment.

"Okay. I'll call you in the morning," he promised. "Try to eat and get some rest."

"Okay. I will," she said. Neither of them hung up and Sam laughed.

"Goodnight, baby. I love you," Sam told her.

"I love you, too," Mercedes responded. Moments later they finally ended the call and Mercedes realized she was smiling for the first time that day. And the next morning started off with that same smile when he called her at the crack of dawn to serenade her with her morning "shower" song.

Mercedes looked up from her seat in the hospital's chapel as someone slowly made their way down her pew. She flashed the only smile she could muster, which wasn't really a smile at all—more of a small grimace really—before looking back down at her hands—not really wanting the conversation she knew was coming. Her tired eyes felt sore from the crying and she brought a hand up to rub at the sensitive skin there.

She'd been sitting there so long she couldn't even tell how much time had passed, playing and replaying what had happened between her and Sam over and over in her mind. Her hopeful delivery of her news and the way his expression had crumbled through seven layers of devastation, before he'd finally uttered words that simply broke her spirit. "I'm sorry." "No, it's not alright." "This is not..." They echoed over and over in Mercedes' mind, her own fears snaking in and filling what he hadn't said. "This is not...the time. This is not...what I want."

She choked back another sob at the thought. She felt like hell, and probably looked it, too. She hadn't eaten in hours and it'd been even longer since she'd slept. Her body tensed and she was powerless to stop another bout of tears as the person finally sat down, deposited a sandwich into her lap, saying nothing before snaking two strong arms around her in a fierce hug.

"We've all been looking all over for you." The voice was her father's and it held not an ounce of scolding, just concern. "You might want to go have a conversation with Sam at some point. He's been asking for you...pretty urgently."

Mercedes sniffled and swiped at her eyes before letting out a tired sigh. "I just needed to think," she said finally. "Daddy, I really don't wanna talk to anyone right now. Least of all Sam. I wouldn't even know what to say," she added and her face crumpled as he silently pulled her into his arms. She let herself sag into her father's familiar embrace.

"That's fine, sweetheart," her father said understandingly, rubbing a soothing hand down her back. "You don't have to say a word right now. I'll just hold you." And he did. Mercedes sagged further, gladly relinquishing the responsibility of holding herself up to someone else for a while, because she was really struggling to keep up at the moment.

Her father simply held her, rocking her back and forth, and humming softly as her sobs quieted into soft cries, then eventually settled tiredly into the occasional sniffle. Mercedes let her thoughts drift to simpler moments in the quiet—those times in grade school where she'd fallen and hurt herself or something, the tiniest injuries really, but she'd still freaked out and her father had held her just like this until she quieted. Never judging her, or telling her to be a big girl. Just holding on until she had the strength to do it on her own again. She'd taken comfort in knowing she could always go to him then, and it was no less comforting now, even if the circumstances were much heavier than a bruised knee.

He kept up his end of the deal not saying a word, but smiled a bit of a knowing smile when Mercedes sighed again and spoke up finally. "Thanks, daddy. I needed that."

"I've got you," he said sincerely. "Always, sweetheart. You know that."

He felt her nod against him and smiled, still not initiating any conversation. They sat in comfortable silence for a long moment, Mercedes' sniffles subsiding into deep, even breaths. Her father almost thought she'd fallen asleep—which wouldn't have been the worst thing, since she so desperately needed it—but she spoke up again a moment later with words that made him frown.

"I don't think Sam wants the baby," she said in a barely audible whisper, as if hiding the words from herself. Her father felt her tense in his arms and she buried her face in his chest again, whimpering as another flood of tears wracked through her body.

Mr. Jones took a deep breath, squeezing her tighter and letting her ride out the wave before he spoke again. "Mercy," he said, lifting her face from his and holding it between his hands. His heart broke at the sight of her red, sleep deprived eyes. Her face, that was usually so warm and full of light, had lost of every trace joy. He swiped a thumb under her still tearing eyes. "What would make you think something like that? Did he say that?" he asked.

"He didn't have to say it, dad," she told him, pulling her face away from his hands. She sat back up, wringing her hands in her lap. "I told him and he just said that he was sorry. That it wasn't okay."

"Mercedes," her father started, reaching for her hand. "Sam's going through a lot right now," he told her and sighed when she only nodded absently, still staring into the distance.

Mercedes didn't say anything for a moment, taking deep breaths as she thought. She let her thoughts drift back to herself, standing in their master bathroom holding the positive pregnancy test in her hands. How happy she'd been. Hopeful. Excited. That had literally only been a week ago, but now it might as well have been months and years. Nothing was the same and Sam was right. It wasn't okay.

"I know that," Mercedes said finally, eerily calm and her father looked at her suspiciously. "And I get it," she added quietly. "I-I just...he doesn't want it now. Not with all this. A baby is just the last thing he needs right now."

Her father took in her words with a concerned frown knotting his face and sat for a quiet moment before speaking up again. "I think you should talk to him again," her father advised. "Give him a chance to explain himself with a gathered mind before you go making any big decisions. It's a lot to take in for any man, at any time. I'd imagine that's especially so for Sam right now."

Again, she only stared off, and her father tugged on her hand. Idly, Mercedes mumbled to herself, not paying attention to him. "This is not how any of this was supposed to happen. It's just not the time."

"Okay," her father said, tugging harder on her hand this time. The action seemed to jolt some awareness back into her and she regarded him curiously. "Listen to me. I'm gonna talk to you and I need you to really be listening, Mercedes."

She stayed quiet, staring expectantly and Mr. Jones took this as a go ahead. "When I first met Sam Evans, I didn't like him, on instinct."

Mercedes shot her dad perturbed look, wondering why he'd suddenly go there. "What?" she asked aloud. "Dad..." She rolled her eyes and tried to turn away from him, but her father grabbed both of her hands, holding her there.

"I didn't like him," Mr. Jones repeated. "I'd enjoyed 17 years of peace with the only threat to your honor—," Mr. Jones continued and sighed when Mercedes cut him off again.

"My honor?" she asked, her button nose scrunched.

"Hush. I'm talking," he told her, ignoring her subsequent eye roll, before he continued. "The only threat to your honor was a Trey Songz tour coming through Ohio," he said and smiled when Mercedes snorted despite herself.

"Then suddenly, junior prom happens and my daughter who'd been moping around about even having to, in her words, 'go to this stupid thing'," Mr. Jones teased, making air quotes, and making Mercedes smile sheepishly, "is running around buying dresses, ransacking her mother's flower garden to make corsages, and cleaning her brother's closet clear out of clothes," he finished looking at her knowingly, and smiling when she ducked her gaze away from him. "Then after your competition in New York, you come home constantly smiling like you're in one of the local ads for my office, and this boy I was told is just my daughter's friend from glee starts showing up at my door with the rise of the sun every morning wearing some awfully familiar clothes. Also smiling like he's in one of the local ads for my office."

Mercedes was smiling now thinking back.

"And I remember the two of y'all that summer. Joined at the hip, with Stevie and Stacey in tow wherever you went. Your mom and I used to call you The Newlyweds behind your back," he said with a laugh. "I never said anything because I didn't want to give you any ideas."

"We were 17," Mercedes supplied with a short laugh and her father shrugged.

"I wasn't taking any chances," he answered simply, ignoring yet another eye roll from his daughter. "Anyway, one day my daughter comes home bawling her eyes out. Naturally, I'm contemplating all the ways I'm gonna enjoy pulling out that boy's molars, without the numbing effects of anesthesia, when she tells me that he's moving away. And you didn't look too different then than you do right now, Mercedes. Devastated. Like everything was over. And he showed up the next day, saying his goodbyes to me and your mother, and he looked the same as you. I've never seen two people so miserable in all my life. He left and you wouldn't leave the house for weeks until that loud Berry girl came by with Kurt and Tina and forced you out. And you seemed fine after, but that smile wasn't the same. I could tell."

Mercedes looked down, away from him, wringing her hands again.

"Fast forward to the middle of senior year, and suddenly there's this boy again. The smiles fit for an ad campaign are back and this boy is sitting in my living room telling me that he came back, with no family, no real idea of anything except that he wants to be with my daughter more than he wants anything else in all his life. I thought in my head, this is a whole lot of hullabaloo over puppy love and it's not going to end well. He's too young for something as big as this. He's gonna miss his family. He'll leave. And I told him as much, and he told me I was wrong...and he proved me wrong, Mercedes."

Mercedes was tearing up again now, and blew out a labored breath.

"The end of your senior year, when you decided not to move with him to New York, because you just weren't ready, I swear I've never seen a pout that surly. Your mother and I could hear you fighting about it all day, everyday for months. He was mad as hell when we took him to the airport right before school started. You were crying for days after and your mom and I thought, that's it. It's over, but not even two weekends passed and he was at the door again. Drove all the way from New York just to tell you he'd thought about and he understood that you just weren't ready, and that it didn't change anything for him. He wasn't going to let you go this time. He didn't like it, but you were worth waiting on. Worth the effort.

And you know what? I realized right then and there that maybe I did like this Sam Evans after all. Because no matter the difficulty, no matter the obstacle, no matter how much he struggled, he always put you first, Mercedes. Your relationship always came first. And loathe as I was to accept it back then—I thought you were just too young to go around planning your lives around a high school relationship—but you did the same for him. Considered him. Sacrificed for him. I'll be the first to admit I wasn't happy when you quit your courses in Ohio and moved to New York. I was waiting on that crash and burn, but the both of you proved me wrong," he finished earnestly, his steady gaze boring into his daughter's doubtful eyes.

"But this isn't just something as little as distance or moving in together, daddy," Mercedes countered, shaking her head and thinking of the massive heap of problems that had suddenly fallen onto her and Sam's shoulders—things that neither of them had imagined they'd ever have to deal with.

"No, but my point is it's still you and Sam. A lot of the time things between you two didn't go how they were supposed to and it always seemed like your timing was off, but you never let that stop you," her father answered. "And let me remind you, back when it was just distance and moving in together, you didn't think of it so idly, sweetheart. It was like the end of your worlds. You struggled. It nearly broke the two of you, but you fought to stay together, to make things work, because you love each other. The only reason you say it's 'little' now is because you faced it together and won, came out stronger on the other side. And something tells me this won't be any different."

Mercedes stayed quiet for moment, mulling his words, searching his face for any signs faltering, but she only found conviction.

"How can you be so sure?" she finally asked, her words quiet as she lifted her hand to wipe at a few more tears that had sprung loose. She'd prided herself on the absolute faith she'd come to have in her relationship with Sam over the years, and she felt guilty for doubting it now.

"This isn't the first time life has thrown the both of you a curve ball," her father said simply. "But every time you've managed to come away from each one stronger as a couple. And this is bigger. This is your family. Your baby. Now, I can't tell you what to do, but I can tell you that I think you should take your time to think about this with a clear head. Talk to Sam again..., hell talk to your mom, his mom, Tina...talk to everyone before you make any kind of decision."

"But what he said in there," Mercedes fretted, wringing her hands as she thought back to that moment. She wanted to believe that things could turn out all right, that they could make it through this. But what if this was beyond them?

Her dad huffed out a small laugh and Mercedes looked at him curiously as he did. "When your mom told me she was pregnant with your brother," he started with a small smile, "we were planning it, too, but I don't know. I just didn't know it'd be right then. I'd just started out with my practice and I was doing well, but she told me and I literally stood there for five minutes without saying anything. The reality of everything just hit me in that moment and I just froze," he told her. Mercedes looked to him, her face softening as she heard his story. Her dad had always been her hero. He'd seemed larger than life in some way, like nothing could ever scare him, but here he was telling her that wasn't true. "Started seeing my life flash. All the things I was going to have to take care of for my family. We needed to move out of our apartment. We needed a bigger car. I had to build a crib. I needed to start thinking about a college fund."

"While momma was still pregnant?" Mercedes said with a small, incredulous laugh.

"I didn't say my thoughts made sense, baby. Just that I was thinking them. Everything at once," he said quietly. "And we both know the kind of man Sam is," he added knowingly and Mercedes looked to him wide-eyed for a moment, considering, before she nodded in understanding. "He's probably thinking all sorts of things, too. Except for now he's not sure he can be the man he wants to be, do the things he needs to do."

Her father let that thought hang between them as Mercedes' thoughts fell back to the words that had crushed her before. "I'm sorry." "No, it's not alright." "This is not..." but she was hearing them differently now—not through the lens of her own pain, but through his and heart broke all over again, finally understanding.

It wasn't that he didn't want their baby—of course he did—and Mercedes hated that she'd doubted it at all. Sam was doubting himself, doubting that he could still be the husband he thought she deserved, a good father to their child, and provide the life he'd constantly dreamed of and worked for for all of them.

It only took her a moment to mull that over, and the answer was yes. He could still be all of those things and she didn't doubt it for a second. Maybe it would be different than what they'd always imagined, but different didn't have to mean something bad. And knowing Sam Evans, knowing the man she'd chosen to spend her life with—the man who'd go out and get her the moon if he thought it might make her smile, then bring her stars and the damn sun if she wanted them—she knew it wouldn't be. He couldn't see that just yet, but she'd believe it enough for the both of them until he could.

Flashing her father the first genuine smile she'd had since her conversation with Sam, she thanked him softly, wrapping her arms around him in a fond embrace. "Thanks, daddy," she said before she stood up. Dejection had sent her reeling and weighed her down into the pew, but faith, hope, and love bolstered her right back up, propelling her out of the chapel. Back to Sam. Always back to Sam.

They'd make it. She had faith in that, in herself, but more than either of those, she had faith in Sam. Always.

A/N: If anyone is still reading this, know you have my undying love and gratitude and I'm so sorry I couldn't update this sooner or regularly. I won't even make a promise as to when another update will come. But I will say there's a good chunk of the next bit already written...as in I'm currently working on it. I'd love to read your reviews if you choose to leave them for me. :)