Two years overdue: Sail has returned with a brand new chapter! You can thank troubletonejones on tumblr for giving me that extra push to write this chapter. Always nice to hear when someone likes your stories.! Enjoy and forgive any and all mistakes please!

Strength

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"Some people believe holding on and hanging in there are signs of great strength. However, there are times when it takes much more strength to know

when to let go and then do it."
-Ann Landers-

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Over time, Marshall House had become Sam's home. As he walked through the dark corridors, he could envision what it would look like should he ever own it. He would paint the walls a lighter colour. The dark made the house seem unfriendly, dangerous. It was anything but that.

Mercedes' bedroom was his favourite room of the house. With work, the balcony that overlooked the backyard gardens would be sturdy and restored. He would see to it in the upcoming days, he thought dismissively. The walls were dark here as they were everywhere else. He'd change that too.

He leaned against, the bedroom doorframe and watched the short, dark skinned woman slip into a dark blue dress. His favourite one, the one she'd been wearing when they first met. The smile that crossed his face was an appreciative one.

"I know you're there, Sam." She glanced over her shoulder, and smiled. "Zip me up, please?"

"Beautiful dress. I don't think anyone could wear it better. Well, except maybe," He pursed his lips as he pulled up the dress zipper.

"Go on then, tell me who."

"What," he corrected. "The floor. I'd say these hardwood floors would wear it exceptionally well."

Mercedes turned to face him, her eyes unreadable. For a moment, Sam thought he went to far. The last thing he wanted was for her to dismiss him. Again.

"I think you have a death wish," she said finally.

"Everyone dies, Mercy. May as well have some fun in the meantime." He trailed a finger along her cheek, which she caught just before he could capture her chin.

"I feel for you. Don't ask me what it is, because I don't know." She let go of him and stepped back. "But, Sam... we aren't compatible. You're a good person with options. It's too late for me to be anything but a slightly better version of what I already am."

For Sam, everything that had been said after her initial confession was blurred. "But if we love each other-"

"Love isn't always enough, Sam!" She snapped, anger flushing her skin. "If it was, my siblings and I wouldn't be so unhappy. You come here with your optimistic ways, but you don't realize that some things are lost causes. Some things can't be loved."

"We're happy now, Mercedes-"

"This is a moment, Sam! A moment in a lifetime. You can't make a decision based on a moment. No matter how perfect it is. Will you be content knowing that we can be happy one or three days a month? Before long the days will start to blur together and you'll feel the pressure of being hated or worse ignored by the person you claim to love."

"It doesn't have to be like that for us."

"But it is. I don't know how to give you want you want and I don't know if I'll ever know how."

With that said, she left him standing stricken in her bedroom.

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Mercedes spent the rest of the day avoiding Sam. She cleaned, cooked and tended to her gardens. Anything to keep her mind of the green-eyed blond she'd come to appreciate. Puck and Santana had found her outside, hanging a load of laundry on the clothes line.

The moment she saw their faces, Mercedes knew something was wrong.

"What happened?"

Puck glanced at Santana wearily before speaking. "Seems that somebody is missing Sam." He dug a paper out of his back pocket and unfolded it before thrusting it into Mercedes' hand.

On the paper was the headline: MISSING, SAM EVANS above a flattering though quite accurate photograph of the man they had kidnapped. "Where did you get this?" she asked, all business.

"A little blonde woman was handing them out at the supermarket. Her brother has been missing for a while. She wants him back," answered Santana. "Talked our ear off about how scared she was that something had happened to him and how she's willing to do anything to get him back."

Santana grimaced in disgust. Public displays of emotions were something she had no tolerance for.

"We knew this would happen eventually. We're lucky we managed to keep him alive this long." Puck shrugged.

"Under no circumstances are we going to kill that man," snapped Mercedes. "Risk or no risk, we're going to send him back to where he came from."

"Are you out of your mind, Mercedes?" Santana stared at her incredulously. "That man is going to get us killed or worse arrested. You can't be serious. This is not the time to start thinking like a person. Didn't I tell you to be careful?"

"I don't want him killed, Tana! He kept his side of the bargain. Now it's our turn."

Rage filled Santana and she took a threatening step forward, jabbing her finger into her sister's chest. "He is going to ruin our lives. He's already ruined yours. You've gone soft, 'Cedes."

"Stop, stop, stop!" Yelled Puck, stepping between the two. "We agreed to let Sam fix Mercedes. He's doing that. We have to be fair."

"He's gotten to you too?" scoffed Santana. "Fine. What do you suppose we do about him then?"

Mercedes looked at the house, and shrugged. "We threaten him. Bring him back home. Pretend he never existed."

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Voices woke Sam from a heavy sleep. He kept his eyes shut, trying to ignore them. Santana had a habit of speaking loudly. As the voices got louder, her realized they weren't familiar.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, wincing in pain as his eyes adjusted to the light. It wasn't his room at Marshall House. It was a hospital room. He would recognize the white walls anywhere, as well as the sterile smell.

Someone entered his room and he groaned, seeing that is was his sister Stacey. There was no denying they were related. She looked exactly like he would have if he were a woman. He felt his heart sink. Part of him had hoped to see Mercedes or Puck. Hell, even Santana.

"Don't sit," said Stacey, seeing him move. "It's best if you just rest a little. You're pretty beaten up."

"Why are you here?" he managed.

She rolled her eyes at the question and adjusted the blankets on him. "My brother went missing. Where else would I be?" She smiled at him, but Sam saw that it didn't reach her eyes.

"Are you alone?"

"Ma' should be here are anytime now. Dad and Stevie are flying out tonight." Her eyes narrowed. "Should anyone else be here? Anyone I should know about?"

Before he knew it, Sam found himself telling her about everything that had happened since he'd been kidnapped. He included the details, even when he saw her eyes flash in anger. He told her everything up until the moment Mercedes told him that she couldn't give him what he wanted. He couldn't remember what happened next. Everything was a blurred in his memory. Hopefully, with time he would remember how he got from Marshall House to the hospital.

Stacey had listened to him intently, nodding to show she was paying attention. She never interrupted, but the moment he finished, she began pacing his room.

"You know, they beat you, right?" she asked. "You have a few broken ribs, a broken leg, a concussion, you're bruised in places no one should be bruised. I think the doctor mentioned a dislocated shoulder too. You've been unconscious for nearly a day. This girl doesn't love you that much if she let this happen."

"Her sister would have killed me."

"I'm sorry, Sam. I'm just not seeing where you're coming from. They kidnapped you. This love you have for her? It's just a really bad case of Stockholm Syndrome. It's not real."

"Stacey-"

"Look," she interrupted him, shaking her head. "I'll get the nurse to check up on you. I need to process this. Before you ask, I won't tell anyone. I just... need to think. I'm glad you're alive."

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It was just past four when Mary Evans arrived at the hospital. She came bearing clothes, a bag of toiletries and a heavy dose of guilt. The mother in her blamed herself for not having realized that her son was in trouble.

Not just trouble, she thought restlessly. Kidnapped. By some gang. She shuddered and made her way to his room. To think... if Stacey wasn't nosey and annoyingly persistent, Sam might not have lived to see another day.

Once she reached his room, Mary's eyes filled at the sight of Sam laying on the bed with Stacey by his side. "Oh, God!" The moment she saw Sam, any decision to remain calm was thrown out the window. She ran to him, pulling his bruised frame into her arms.

Neither she nor Stacey missed the way his arms failed to circle her. He sat, stone faced and still, waiting for her to let him go.

When she did, Mary sat on the chair next to him and breathed in deeply. "How are you?" She shook her head and chuckled. "How silly of me, obviously you aren't well. Sam, I'm sorry."

"For what?" He asked, frowning.

She took his hand in hers and squeezed. "I should have known something was wrong when you didn't answer your phone, but Quinn told us she left and we just assumed..." She trailed off and closed her eyes. None of this was easy. "I thought you needed time to deal with the break up. I wanted to give you space. I know I can be overbearing at times, and the one time I decide to let you live your life is the time you get kidnapped and assaulted."

"It's not your fault, Mama." Stacey placed a hand over theirs. "We all thought... well, things like this aren't supposed to happen to us. They happen to other people, to other families. Not to ours."

Mary nodded, sniffling. "I'm just so happy you're alive, Sammy. So happy." She forced a smile and pushed to her feet, smoothing the wrinkles from her slacks. "I'm going to call your father and Stevie. They'll be on their way soon enough. I'm really happy you're back, Sam. I love you."

"I... Thank you." Sam said weakly.

Sadness crossed his mother's face and she looked at Stacey, unable to stop the tears that spilled from her eyes.

Stacey closed the door behind their mother and rounded on Sam, worry etched into her pretty face.

"That was your mother, Sam," said Stacey, staring at him. "You love her."

He nodded and smiled unconvincingly. "I know that."

"Do you? Because you've been staring at her like she's some stranger and not the woman who gave birth to you years ago."

"It's difficult-"

Stacey put a hand up, stopping him. "I don't want to hear it, Samuel. You've said enough. It's my turn." She took a deep breath and furrowed her brows, unsure of where to begin. It all seemed so impossible, so foreign. "You are going to get help. I'll find you a therapist. A good one."

"I don't need a shrink, Stace!" Sam laughed at the thought which only angered his Stacey.

"Jesus Christ, Samuel! If you can't see that you do need help then you're in bigger need of it than I thought. I'll find someone and we'll fix what they broke!'' She yelled, tear filling her eyes.

"Stacey-" He glanced at the door, hoping nobody could hear her ranting.

"Don't 'Stacey' me!" She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand hastily. "They sent you back wrong. You aren't my brother anymore. They asked you to help them. But while you were fixing them, they were breaking you. Well, I'm not okay with this. I want my brother back. I want my Sammy, not Samuel."

Her words stirred something in Sam, but he remained silent. With surprising gentleness, she cupped his chin and placed a kiss on his forehead.

"I love you. So much, Sammy, you don't even know. You were supposed to dump Quinn and meet this amazing perfect woman. You were going to have perfect babies and I know that they would have been perfect because you are. They would have had your heart and your wisdom. I would have loved them because they would've been everything that you are. I would've been the proudest sister and the proudest aunt." A small sad smile graced her features. "But you fell in love with... She's not perfect, Sam. She's... she's just not perfect."

"Nobody's perfect, Stace," said Sam lightly.

"But not everybody is... imperfection."

Sam wasn't stupid. He knew what she was implying and resented it. "They aren't evil people. They didn't have a choice."

Rolling her eyes, Stacey moved away from him and began pacing the room. "Of course, they had a choice. There is always a choice! Always! They could've gone to the authorities after what happened. They could've done anything but what they actually did. They made their choice."

"And now I'm making mine."

Stacey nodded, seeing his determination. "You leave me no choice. I'm going to take the next few months off of school. I'll live with you and supervise until I'm sure you're back to your old self. I'll die before I let my brother live the rest of his life with a monster."