Ellie's Author Note: Okay, I'm super excited for this chapter because it contains a scene that I've had in my mind since like, the second chapter. The song used in this chapter has a lot of personal meaning to me. I was in a really bad place one day and I was walking home from school, everything seemed to be wrong. And this song came on the radio, and it made me feel so much better. So it means a lot to me that Julie let me put this into the story. So thank her and I just wanted to say I love you Julie!
Julie's Author Note: Hey guys, so sorry for the delay. But real life kicked in (Carnaval was in the beginning of March and here in Brazil we say the New Year only truly starts after it) and both Ellie and I have been so busy. Most part of this chapter came from Ellie's crazy creative brain so everything you love in it, it's all thanks to her. I love her so much and I'm so proud of our little collaboration. Don't forget to review, okay? We love your feedback.
Disclaimer: Nope. Not ours. The song is Pink's Fucking Perfect. Bold: Santana; Italic: Puck; Bold Italic: Jesse; Underlined: Santana, Puck, Jesse.
and I owe it all to you: twelve
The young pair sat in silence in Jesse's car while going over their choices in their minds. With Vocal Adrenaline's offer to Rachel being out in the open, many things were uncertain, but one thing was not: New Directions would be out for Rachel's blood, and both she and Jesse knew that. But they were both concerned about different perspectives.
Rachel kept going over, in her mind, what her teammates would yell at her. She knew Mercedes and Quinn would take the lead and call her the most hurtful insults they could come up with (and she knew they would be very creative – Rachel often wondered why the two girls didn't put all that imagination into new numbers for glee). Brittany, Tina and Artie would stand in the sidelines, not being active in the namecalling but not doing anything to stop it. Finn, the egoistical brat, would think she was doing all that to hurt him. Sam would watch, lost and confused, the poor thing.
Jesse, meanwhile, was busy trying to imagine the devastating consequences the ensuing confrontation with the New Directions members would have on Rachel's fragile psyche. Because he knew with no doubt in his mind that there would be a confrontation, accusations would be hurled at Rachel and hurtful words sent her way. And, honest to God, Jesse was terrified. The brunette was still teetering on the brink of the abysm, definitely not in the right state of mind to face the unstoppable power of nature that was New Directions when angered.
A light bulb then went off over Jesse's head. He couldn't protect Rachel while in McKinley, but he could protect her for the weekend. He turned to her with a smile. "I know what we're going to do. Better yet, where we're going to go to avoid what is sure to take place once you meet up with your team mates". He gave her his phone as he drove through the well-known path towards Rachel's house. "Call Puck and Santana and ask them to pack a bag. We're all spending the weekend at Chez St. James", he explained, chuckling lowly at the utter confusion in Rachel's face.
"Noah and… Santana?" She repeated, dumbfounded. "Santana Lopez?"
"Yes, babe, call Puck and tell him to call her and pack a bag".
"O-kay…" Rachel mumbled, hating to be in the dark but knowing Jesse would explain everything later. She quickly dialed Noah's number, fingers drumming anxiously against the window glass. "Noah? Hey, it's Rachel. Listen, Jesse told me to tell you to pack a bag- I don't know- Noah, he's driving! Okay, okay, I'll put you in speaker, hold on…"
"St. James, what's the plan?" Puck's voice came from the speakers, slightly distorted from the phone, while Rachel watched, completely shocked at this new turn. Jesse and Noah speaking like allies? But since when? Last she knew, Noah wanted to kill Jesse for her egging!
"Puckerman", Jesse said as he made the turn into Rachel's street. "Listen, you, me, Santana and Rachel are all going to spend the weekend at my house. Pack a bag, call Lopez and tell her to pack one too. Rachel and I'll be over in a bit, it's just the time for her to pick up some clothes and we'll be there".
"Okay. We'll be ready. We're picking up San at her place too, right?"
"Sure".
"Cool". Puck's voice is firm. "Rach, baby, can you put the phone back to normal? I want to talk to you".
"Sure…" She pressed a button on the phone and placed the gadget against her ear. "Noah?"
"Babe, listen, I want you to turn off your phone, okay? San and I will do the same once we're with you and St. James. It's the best for you". His voice was gentle and sweet, Noah talking to her instead of Puck. Tears pooled inside her eyelids as she nodded, and she wiped them quickly, hoping he wouldn't notice the thickness of her voice.
"Okay. I'll do it right now".
"Great, babe. You'll be fine, okay? We have your back".
"Thank you", she whispered.
The St. James manor was a beautiful mansion sitting in the middle of the most gorgeous garden Rachel had ever seen. It was the first time she set foot on the house Jesse had grown up in, and he smiled as he noticed the fascination in Rachel's eyes, the way she drank everything in, her face the poster model of childish fascination. The drive from Santana's posh house in Lima Heights to Akron was made in a cozy silence. Rachel had been tense, undoubtedly waiting for the biting retort that she was used to Santana throwing at her. But the Latina spent the entire ride as quiet as Rachel, apparently lost in thoughts, and slowly the soft and meaningless conversation between Jesse and Noah relaxed Rachel.
"It's beautiful, Jesse", Rachel said as she walked into the living room, eyes wide at the posh residence. He smiled and nodded once in acknowledgement of her words, taking her hand into his as he went to the marble stairs that led to the first floor of the house, where the bedrooms were. Puck and Santana followed, standing close to each other and exchanging a meaningful glance as they noticed the way Rachel entwined her fingers with Jesse's.
The bedroom they walked in was huge. All decorated in black with chromed silver details, it had a king-sized bed covered with black silk sheets and a deep gray duvet. Two black armchairs were in front of the bed, undoubtedly seats to a desk in rich deep mahogany, and a soft light gray carpet tickled their feet, making Rachel giggle as her toes curled around the carpet. Behind the bed headpiece, black wallpaper covered the wall, but the others one were white, moonlight bathing the room as it filtered through the wide glass door that led to a balcony, straight across the door they had just walked through.
"Nice bedroom, St. James", Puck said as he plopped down on the carpet, his back resting against one of the armchairs. Santana, who had gone to peek at the view from the balcony, left the glass door open as she came back into the room and sat gracefully down next to Puck.
"Of course, it had to be black", she teased, crossing her legs Indian style and smirking as Jesse rolled his eyes.
"Thanks, Puck. Black is neutral, Lopez", the former Vocal Adrenaline lead took a seat against the bed, in front of the Mohawked boy, pulling Rachel to sit next to him.
"Black is the absence of color", the New Directions lead replied quietly, and Santana chuckled.
"Touché", the Latina said, and Puck guffawed as he picked his guitar, strumming it lazily. Santana, with a quick glance at Rachel, leaned towards him and whispered something in his ear. He nodded in response and began playing a song, the beat cutting through the nightly air and wrapping itself around the four teens.
Made a wrong turn, once or twice
Dug my way out, blood and fire
Santana's voice broke through the peaceful night as Puck strummed his guitar softly. Her eyes were trained on Rachel as she sung, they were filled with tears. Her eyes were glassy and seemed bigger with the emotions threatening to spill. Rachel found this the slightest bit strange; she had no reason to cry, right? She was the HBIC on the school, after all. Puck threw the Latina a affectionate smile of understanding as she knotted her own fingers, keeping her eyes down.
Bad decisions – that's alright
Welcome to my silly life
Her voice broke slightly on the first word of the next two lines, a tear silently slipped fluidly down her flawless cheeks as she seemed to get smaller somehow. Santana Lopez, exposed to the world as she sung her heart out, flashed her eyes over at Puck, who once again built her courage to continue with one smile and his eyes, they spoke oceans.
Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood
Miss "no way, it's all good"
It didn't slow me down
Santana let out a bitter laugh at the end of the second line of the next part, thinking over the times she'd pretended everything was okay. She glanced over at Rachel, who was watching her intensely, with whole new eyes. Santana saw herself when she spotted the scars peeking from under the tiny brunette's sleeves; she gazed down at her own arms, bare with the T-shirt she was wearing. The scars were gone. At least the physical ones.
Mistaken
Always second guessing
Underestimated
Look, I'm still around…
Rachel shifted closer to Jesse as they sit around in a square sort of shape, Puck is on a stool, guitar in his hands as he played softly, Santana's voice weaving with the notes perfectly, even though she was crying as she sung. Rachel watched the Latina with interest, with curiosity, with understanding. Santana looked, for the first time, human for all to see.
Pretty, pretty please
Don't you ever, ever feel
Like your less than
Less than perfect
Jesse took the chorus from Santana's shaky ending to the verse as more tears joined the first one. It was graceful and elegant, her breakdown. It was contained and all over the place at the same time. Santana herself didn't know what to do with herself. Like it was an alien emotion to her, this sense of hopelessness and loss. The Latina wiped the tears from her eyes as Jesse's velvet voice joined with Puck's strumming. Rachel's hand was encased within his as he sung to her and, like Santana, the emotions of the song bubble at the surface for him too.
(Because even Jesse St. James every now and then felt like he was imperfect. He was human after all).
Pretty, pretty please
If you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing
You are perfect to me
Rachel joined in with teary eyes by the end of the chorus, the way the song communicated everything she was feeling at the moment. Confusion. Pain. Anger. Disgust. Fear. And, underneath it all, a frail spark of hope. It was all wrapped up into one song with the three people she cared for the most pleading with her not to feel them. She knew emotions weren't like a switch one could just turn off and on when one felt like it. But the way these people begged and pleaded with her to try made her feel warm inside, warmer than she'd felt in months.
The world stares while I swallow the fear
The only thing I should be drinking is an ice cold beer
Puck strummed his guitar as he sung, his eyes cast down on the strings. Rachel breathed a laugh at the beer part, knowing best than anyone Puck's affinity for alcohol. (There was a life shared between them, happy and sweet childhood memories mingled with the tears and the estrangement of their first teenage years).
So cool in lying and I try, try, try
But we try too hard – it's a waste of my time
This part seemed to speak to Puck himself, the way he'd been over the past two year of High School. Not trying in anything, because he didn't want to come off as a loser, but now he was sort of proud of being one, if it meant getting somewhere, leaving Lima, being someone. He glanced over at Santana, her wet and fragile-looking eyes boring back at his. He smiled softly at her and she smiled back.
Done looking for the critics, 'cause they're everywhere
They don't like my jeans, they don't get my hair
Estrange ourselves and we do it all the time
Why do we do that?
Why do I do that?
Santana almost spoke the next line. It was a haunting whisper.
Why do I do that?
The trio joined together for the final chorus and Rachel smiled through her tears, Jesse squeezed her hand tightly. Santana wiped her eyes once more, becoming more confident in her state of exposure with every second that passed, knowing these three people wouldn't expose her secrets to the world. Puck kept his eyes on Santana, with this hint of concern in the back of his eyes as he continued to play until the last line, sung by Jesse.
Pretty, pretty please don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less then, less than perfect
Pretty, pretty please if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing
You are perfect, to me
Santana sung the next two lines, holding the notes perfectly. She closed her eyes tightly as she focused on the sound of her broken voice creating something beautiful.
You're perfect
You're perfect
Pretty, pretty please don't you ever ever feel
Like you're less then, less than perfect
Pretty, pretty please if you ever ever feel
Like you're nothing you are perfect to me
"Thank you". Rachel whispered.
While Puck, Santana and Rachel were all gathered in the St. James residence, all four of them still reeling from their emotional impromptu performance, a small group of teenagers were standing on the Berry family's porch, knocking forcefully on the front door. The one that appeared to be their leader, a tall blonde with icy blue-green eyes, huffed as she turned to a slightly smaller African-American girl. Behind the two girls, a tall Asian boy and an equally taller blonde girl chatted with an Asian girl and a boy on a wheelchair. "Try her cell phone again, Mercedes. She's in here somewhere. Her car is here", the lead blonde pointed at the purple Prius. The African-American girl scoffed.
"Q, for Pete's sake, Rachel's phone is blowing up with missed calls and texts and so else from me. She's not answering. And everything is all dark here. She's not home".
Quinn Fabray nearly growled in annoyance. She had spent the entire day on edge, wanting to put Berry on her place, to make her lose everything like Quinn herself had the previous year, all because of Rachel. In Quinn's mind, if Rachel Berry hadn't walked into Finn's life, with her singing and her appeal, Quinn wouldn't have slept with Puck, thus not getting pregnant and having to live with half a heart since Regionals last year.
"She must be somewhere and we're going to find her!" Quinn said loudly as she sat down on the Berry's porch's front steps. "Okay, so she's not home. Call Puck. He and Berry are all buddy-buddy now, he must know where she is, that is, if she isn't with him", the blonde nodded once, turning to Mercedes, who huffed but scrolled down her contacts searching for Puck's cell phone number.
"Puck's out with San", Brittany piped up from her seat on Artie's lap. "I called her earlier to ask if she wanted to hang out and she said she couldn't because she was out with him". The blonde rested her cheek against Artie's head, fingers playing absently with his hair. "And I think they were going on a trip, I heard her mumble in Spanish about having to pack… Or at least I think that's what she meant…"
Quinn frowned and shot a quick, speculative glance towards Mercedes, who shrugged and busied herself with her phone. This was getting too weird. Puck and Santana going away together? She ignored the small pang of jealousy the thought caused her as she tried to put the pieces together. Quinn was sure her former fling and former best friend weren't about to skip town, Puck was all for proving he wasn't a Lima loser and being a high-school dropout wasn't going to achieve that. And Santana had too much ambition to just leave altogether, unless it meant she was to become some hotshot's trophy wife. "Something's not right…" She mumbled with a long look at the wooden front door.
Sighing in non-admitted defeat, Quinn turned her back to the door and left the empty house behind. Rachel had escaped her tonight. But she couldn't skip class Monday. A malicious smirk curved the blonde's lips. Yes, Monday Rachel Berry would get what was coming to her.