All You Can't Leave Behind
Rachel slouched lower over the bar, watching the lemon rind filter through the water as she stubbornly ground her straw into the remnants of her drink. Her fingers tapped against her cheek in time to the beat of her circling thoughts.
Kurt knew.
Was she the only one who had been in the dark about her boyfriend's betrayal? Her expression darkened as she stabbed harder at the mangled fruit at the bottom of her glass. Perfect. It was bad enough Finn had been lying to her face for all these months, and about something so intimate and personal – but now he'd made her look like an utter fool in front of her team.
Why Santana of all people? It wasn't like she and Finn were close friends or anything; it wasn't as if they had any kind of meaningful history, like at least he'd had with Quinn. It was almost like some kind of arbitrary selection; a decision based purely on convenience and shallow hotness; a causal choice for something that she'd always thought would mean as much to him as it did to her. Sure, they'd had their share of stupid and petty moments between them, but when it came right down to it, she'd been sure that they shared some kind of deeper understanding.
After all, she could've just as easily gone through with the same thing when… Rachel pressed her lips together and quickly pushed that particular name from her mind. But the important thing was that she didn't. Because she wanted it to be special; she wanted to wait until it really meant something. And try as she might to sometimes convince herself to the contrary, Rachel had always known that she couldn't give that intimacy away to someone she didn't love with her whole heart. It had been too soon for them. It wasn't something to be rushed. But who knows: given a little longer together and then maybe… Screwing her eyes shut, Rachel slammed a door on those rebellious thoughts and tried to refocus. Sure, she'd been tempted – but she'd come to her senses.
But as much as it hurt, she knew it was the betrayal of dishonesty that hurt more.
She found herself wishing Kurt hadn't had to rush off so quickly. She wanted to ask him more; she wanted answers; she wanted to speak to someone. She wanted someone to help her make sense of everything she was feeling; why she still felt so recklessly inclined to lash out in anger. She needed someone to listen and really hear her for once, not just brush her off.
Maybe she could catch up to him after the competition, or she could always give him a call tomorrow or maybe even later tonight… Rachel shook her head to herself, a fond smile creeping up her lips as she wondered just when Kurt had suddenly become such a favourable confidant. Yet, perhaps it was not a wholly unexpected twist in their rival diva relationship; there's a fine line between love and hate after all. Maybe you had to lose something first to finally appreciate what you'd had.
And besides, if anyone else knew how it felt to be repeatedly hurt by Finn's insensitivity, it was Kurt. Maybe they were kindred spirits in more ways than one.
A huffy sigh escaped her lips as her mood turned gloomy once more. Rachel swished her straw around the glass a few more times, scowling at her own thoughts and growing frustration.
"Can I get you another one?"
The unfamiliar voice roused Rachel from her melancholia, and she quickly glanced up to see the bartender gesturing towards her almost empty glass with a polite smile. She sat back in her seat and cocked an eyebrow.
"Not unless you can slip something a little stronger into it?"
He shook his head with a low laugh. "Little young to be drowning your sorrows, aren't you?"
"Bad week," she grumbled before giving a small shrug of embarrassment. "Would it be a massive cliché to say 'guy trouble'?"
"Well yeah," he said as he reached out to clear away her drink. "But there's a reason it's a classic."
Rachel nodded thoughtfully but didn't elaborate on her words, not wishing to perpetuate the stereotype any further. Offering him a small smile, she reluctantly hopped down from the bar stool and refocused her mind once more on the immediate task at hand.
She still had those damn Raisinets to find.
/o/
Rachel stood off to the side, away from her teammates that were warming up around her. Elegant black heels clicked sharply against the floor as she slowly paced behind the curtain, waiting for their moment, the backstage air thick with anticipation and nervous excitement. Rolling her eyes impatiently, she ordered herself to concentrate on their impending performance. She had to get into the right frame of mind: her smile had to be flawless and dazzling, her stage manner professional and polished, and her voice…well, just another mindless harmony in the background.
Out the corner of her eye, she saw Brittany kneeling beside Artie, both talking in low tones and with soft smiles on their faces that suggested their tiff from earlier had been resolved. The tender sight made her heart hurt in self pity. The confrontation in the Green Room flashed through her mind again, bringing with it a fresh wave of bitter resentment.
'Look, Rachel, when this all happened you were dating another guy, so you don't really have a right to be pissed at me about it, okay?'
Another guy.
Jesse.
Rachel winced. She didn't know why those words from Finn had bothered her so much, and she couldn't help fearing – for all the wrong reasons. He was trying to throw up her relationship with Jesse in defence of his hook-up with Santana, and that pissed her off. But she had the sneaking suspicion that her anger at that tactic somehow ran deeper than her righteous indignation.
Another guy.
Stopping short, Rachel abruptly turned around and let her head drop back against the wall with a heavy thunk, squeezing her eyes closed. Try as she did, she could never seem to convince herself that Jesse was simply 'another guy'. She could think of lots of rude names to call him, each well deserved, and she might wish with all her heart that he was as insignificant as a squashed insect – but the truth was that he'd had a brutal impact that just couldn't be erased. Whether by curse or design, Jesse St. James refused to be expelled from her thoughts with the same ease with which he had been written out of her life.
She had tried to forget. She had moved on in every aspect of her life. She had gone out of her way to avoid any mention of him and anything that had happened while they were together, hoping perhaps that she could undo it all by force of will alone. Jesse was gone and he was never coming back and, if she was lucky, she would never have to set eyes on him ever again. She hated him for what he'd done. She hated him for stealing their dreams; she hated him for casting her aside in pain and humiliation; she hated him for making a fool out of her and she hated him for leaving without even a look back.
She'd given her love to someone who deserved it this time…or so she'd thought.
No, Rachel knew how she felt and she loved Finn, and as angry and hurt as she was right now, she knew that wouldn't change. Finn was her future; Jesse was history. A mistake she would give anything to take back.
A frustrated sigh left her lips, a deep frown settling between her brows. And yet, there he was again: invading her thoughts against her will; slipping through her mind like a stream works its way around all obstacles – carving its own path through rock and granite and earth to reach its source in a never ending cycle. The persistent strength of a single entity. Everywhere she turned, she felt the echo of his presence, lingering like the faintest trace of his touch, an imprint on her world that revealed itself unexpectedly when her guard was lowered.
She remembered finding his eyes on that crowded stage almost a year ago, holding his gaze for a second longer than she meant to, a fleeting exchange of stony glares that would serve as their final goodbye. Whatever the outcome, they both knew that this would be the last time they saw each other; a silent acknowledgment of all that would never be said. His expression softened for a heartbeat and her own faltered, but then the moment passed and everything was lost in the roar of victory. She didn't meet his eyes again.
And yet, she had been a victor that night. She had won the battle of the hearts where it mattered most. She remembered stepping up outside those theatre doors so clearly; could recall every flutter in her stomach as she met his face with a nervous smile and bright voice.
The actual words had caught her by surprise.
She'd waited so long, wished so hard, and now they were out there. Everything she'd wanted, everything she'd fought for, declared in a single, sweeping assurance that would guarantee their future. Her mind urged her to speak; to reply with the speech she had always prepared for such an occasion, but her lips would only curve into a tentative smile as her mind struggled to catch up.
Even now, Rachel couldn't quite define what she had felt immediately after she'd heard those words from the only boy she'd ever wanted to say them. Emotions had swarmed through her like unsettled butterflies, still lost and reeling from an abrupt and devastating departure that she refused to deal with. Maybe it was because she was unprepared, maybe it was because she could think only of the last time someone had stood before her and twisted that same declaration into something ugly and cruel – but for whatever reason, that moment with Finn had fallen oddly…flat.
She had fantasised about the moment for so long, imagined over and over the precise inflection and the look in his eyes and her movingly heart-felt response, and yet when it happened, she didn't feel like she had thought she would. There was no rush of sparks, no heady lightness or dizzying skip in her heart. She had felt touched and grateful, warm and pleased, but there was a raw sense of emptiness that still nagged in the pit of her stomach. And for one second, it had almost felt like a hollow victory.
And still that one thought had slipped in amongst everything, taunting and digging through her mind in low whispers. Still him. Always Jesse. In a moment that should have been all about them, there he was – unwanted, unbidden, but resolutely there. A reminder, a regret, an unfinished promise.
And so she'd smiled and walked through those doors with her head held high as she tried to sing him out of her heart, willing her love free of his malicious hold so she could give it fully to the boy who sang opposite her on that stage.
Shaking herself out of her reverie, Rachel snapped up and cast a quick glance around at her teammates. No-one glanced her way so she assumed nothing had been noticed amiss in her demeanour. She moved across the stage with her head low, deeply thankful for the rampant self-absorption that ran through their team, and peeked through a gap in the curtains. The theatre was full of chatter and movement as people settled back into places after the interval, a mass of movement meeting her gaze. She squinted and tried to see Mr Schue but she couldn't pick anyone out in the sea of faces.
She suddenly wondered if he was out there.
Unnerved by the stray thought, she instantly reproached herself and quickly drew back, letting the curtain fall back into place. There was no reason for him to be here, not this time. They were no longer in direct competition with him and nor did he have need to spy for Shelby anymore, she thought bitterly. He was thousands of miles away, across the country, and that was a perfect place for him. Further away from her, the better.
'I saw you perform at Sectionals. Your rendition of 'Don't Rain On My Parade' was flawed. You totally lack Barbara's emotional depth. But you're talented.'
Rachel scoffed at the memory. Who was he to talk? The boy had about the emotional depth of a mill pond. Success and winning were what drove him, nothing else. And yet, she mused thoughtfully, his performance at Regionals last year had shown he was at least capable of injecting raw emotion into his voice, if not his heart.
A hushed quiet descended and Rachel nearly jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning around with a mute nod and quick smile, she moved to take up her place with the rest of the team. Taking a deep breath, she waited to hear those opening words from the back of the theatre. Swallowing down the last of the residual resentment, she held her head up and composed her features into a perfect show face, ready to take one for the team and pushing all thought of the previous year as far from her mind as possible.
That was then and this was now, and this time she wouldn't let anything derail their journey to Nationals.
/o/
Sneaking in late had proved easier than he'd expected. Of course, it helped that he was in a position to pull strings with the staff. Slouching back against the wall, unconcerned by the creases it would leave in his waistcoat, he crossed his arms and watched the lights dim as spotlights hit the back of the room. He sighed and turned his head accordingly with the rest of the audience as the music kicked in. They really needed to come up with a new entrance. They were never going to make it to Nationals with such a lack of imagination.
An amused smile twitched his mouth as the opening notes struck the air. He wondered whose choice this had been, it certainly didn't seem like it would have been Schuester's first pick. The curtains parted and an unfamiliar boy stepped out into the aisle, smiling his way through each cheesy lyric with a level of commitment he couldn't help but admire. However, a frown knitted his brow as the fellow duetting partner revealed herself a few moments later, gold hair shining and sweet voice echoing around the great space. Huh. That he had not been expecting. Maybe they were capable of surprising him after all. Whether it was a smart move or not, remained another matter.
Sure, the cheerleader had a good voice and could hit all the notes, but she was by no means the strongest performer. Jesse raised an eyebrow as he watched the dreamy looks that passed between the singers as they made their way down towards the stage, determinedly ignoring the vivid memory it beckoned forth.
When the curtain finally lifted to reveal the rest of New Directions dancing behind them, he found her face almost immediately. She'd changed her hair, he noted absently, as his eyes followed her across the stage, observing how she twirled and flicked her way through the steps in perfect synchronicity. He'd always enjoyed watching her move. His gaze rarely left her for the rest of the performance, pausing only briefly to take slight appreciation in her teammates dance moves as they took centre stage during the second number. Multiply that by twenty members and perhaps they would be on almost level ground with Vocal Adrenaline.
And yet, she stayed back. Not once did they bring her voice to the fore, and he was more than a little curious about the reasons behind such a risky tactic. It seemed Mr Schue's futile insistence on blind equality and all that stuff was coming at the detriment of his club's chances. Denying the strongest star they had a chance to shine was a rookie idealism that they'd better wise up to before they took on VA again. He was surprised that she had managed to smile and dance her way through the whole thing so well, though no doubt there had been countless tantrums behind the scenes. Rachel wasn't one to take a snub like that lying down. There would have been hell to pay if his team had tried to pull something like that on him just before a competition – not that they would've ever been stupid enough to try. Jesse smirked to himself; she must be going crazy.
The results were an unusual decision, but seemed rather fitting with New Direction's misplaced ideology of fair play. A nice, happy ending all around. He almost rolled his eyes as he watched the celebrations on stage. Boy, were they in for a rude awakening. Yet his eyes soon found their way back to her, narrowing faintly in scrutiny as he observed again the subtle distance between her and Hudson. They stood apart: no loving glances exchanged, no warm embrace and pathetic fawning like he'd had to endure the last time he'd seen them together on stage. He cocked an eyebrow in thought.
It seemed this night was full of surprises.
/o/
The foyer was heaving with the after show crowd, and Rachel had to knock a few shoulders as she pushed her way through the crush in search of Kurt. She wanted to congratulate him in person and show that she really meant it. She'd never thought she'd be okay with sharing a title, but she found herself oddly content and happy with the way things had turned out. She knew how much it meant to him and she wanted him there at Regionals with them, even if they couldn't sing together in the same team anymore.
Turning around, she scanned the crowd for the red and black of the Dalton Academy blazers, when she suddenly felt a hand at her elbow. Looking back, she found herself face to face with a boy who looked a few years older and dressed in the same Warbler's uniform. Not stopping to question her luck, she opened her mouth to ask about Kurt but was interrupted before she could get her words out.
"Excuse me," he asked politely. "Are you Rachel Berry?"
"Yes."
He nodded but didn't say anything else, only extending his hand to offer out a folded piece of paper. Rachel blinked at the odd gesture from a complete stranger, before slowly reaching out to accept it. She glanced up at him in confusion.
"What –"
"Hey, don't ask me. I was just asked to give it to Rachel Berry."
"Who asked you?"
"Some guy," he said with a shrug.
Rachel stared at him blankly for a moment. Her throat felt dry and her heart felt heavy in her chest, and she didn't know exactly why.
"You guys were great by the way. Good luck at Regionals."
"Yeah, thanks," she mumbled. Looking up quickly, she shook her head and tried to gather her senses. "Uh, same to you," she called out as she watched him retreat into the crowd again. He turned and gave her a friendly smile before she lost sight of him amongst the surrounding bustle.
Biting her lip, she frowned down at the innocent square of paper, turning it between her fingers for a long moment. It was all very cloak and dagger – or maybe that was just her dramatic imagination running away with her. Still, patience had never been a big virtue of Rachel's and her curiosity quickly got the better of her.
It contained only a single line, four measly words, but it was enough to drown out the world for the eternity of a split second.
Last year was better.
An invisible tremor ran through her body before she could stop it, tightening her grip around the paper in her hands. They say handwriting is more distinctive than any signature, and she'd recognise that particular script anywhere, even if the note itself wasn't already in that same inimitable style. Her heartbeat pounded through her head like a frenetic drumroll, far too fast to be healthy.
Jerking up suddenly, her eyes darted through the crowd, searching for the hidden gaze that she knew was watching her. She barely felt the bodies pushing past around her; she forgot that she was standing in the middle of a packed foyer surrounded by her teammates and competitors; she was aware of only the reckless determination that was taking over every corner of her mind. And when she snatched a glimpse of a familiar grey shirt and black waistcoat slipping between the crush, she didn't stop to think, to question, to try and understand or give herself the chance to be lost to doubt.
Fighting her way towards the exit, she stopped pretending to be polite and simply pushed and ducked her way past shoulders and under elbows. Deaf to the disgruntled mutters around her, she almost slammed into the glass doors as she shoved them open and burst out onto the theatre steps.
Breathing hard, she stopped short and glanced around. She twisted in every direction, her gaze sweeping out over the night and scouring the dark streets that stretched along in front of her, still searching frantically even as the cool evening air began to claw her senses back.
She slowly backed up a step, trying to regain her composure, but unable to stop herself from double checking every guy she could see on the busy sidewalk. Taking a painful breath, she locked her jaw and closed her eyes, viciously berating herself for the moment of weakness; for letting a stupid, cruel note rile her into making an idiot out of herself all over again. If he was somewhere out there, he was probably laughing at her.
And yet she couldn't explain away the desperate urge that had gripped her so strongly without warning. She didn't know why the thought of catching one more glimpse of him, the temptation of being close enough to touch again, made her heart ache so much.
At that moment, Rachel didn't know who she hated more.
/o/
Through the glass doors, a gentle frown touched Kurt's face as he watched her shoulders slump, her back hunching slightly, every line of her body hard with private reproach. She didn't move for several deep breaths before she slowly straightened up and held her head high once more, and he could almost see the fresh resolve settling over her as all the segments of her public persona clicked seamlessly back into place.
His gaze lowered just as hers did and the frown deepened as he saw her cast one last glance over something in her hand. She hesitated for a moment, before she carefully re-folded and slipped a small square of paper into the pocket of her dress.
A thoughtful expression crossed his face and he debated catching her when she came back inside, but just then there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to meet Blaine's face, and the dwelling heartache of his former teammate was temporarily driven into the back of his mind again, as Kurt smiled and followed his friend back to their team to continue the celebration.
/o/
She was beautiful even from a distance.
Feeling more than a little uncomfortably voyeuristic, he watched as she rushed out of the theatre doors before coming to an uncertain stop. She quickly stepped forward again, moving to scan up and down the street in vain. The ruffles of her dress sparkled faintly under the yellow glow of the city around her; dark, soft hair fell loosely down her back, slightly dishevelled now; and still she moved so gracefully, the perfect posture of a natural performer.
But a stolen glance from a distance could never compare to her physical presence. To being close enough to see the deep tint of her eyes, the subtle tug of her lips; to feel the touch of her fingers or brush of her hand; the scent of her skin or the music in her voice. But that was a weakness he could never have again.
Swallowing hard, he watched as she turned around with only the smallest hesitation before disappearing back inside – taking the last shreds of wishful opportunity with her.
It was over.
Across the street, a black Porsche Turbo rumbled to life and pulled out into the city traffic. He slammed his CD player up to full volume, gritting his teeth against the vibrations, but still the accusation raged through his mind, pounding in time with the music that throbbed in his ears.
Coward.
~o~
AN: Have I mentioned how much I love Kurt and Rachel's blossoming friendship? :) Come on, we all know Jesse was there at Sectionals! The camera doesn't lie. Bet you anything he brings it up when he makes his appearance in the back nine. Hmm, I seem to have a thing for passing notes between these two, but hey, at least I told you what was in it this time ;) Hope you enjoyed this as much as I did writing it.
I love hearing what you think, it feeds the plot bunnies :) Thanks for reading.