A/N: Hope my American readers had a good holiday! Here's a quick little update, hopefully this clears up a few questions from the end of the last chapter. Also, tomorrow is my last day of classes, then one final, and I'll be done for winter holidays, which means LOTS of writing! And remember, reviews help to spark my creativity, so read and review! Love you guys! 3

Jesse spent weeks searching for another city bus, attempting to find that billboard. It had been there, plain as day—an ad for a sweater or something, he hadn't really been paying attention; all he could see was Rachel. Had he imagined it? Had it simply been a tiny brunette, and in his state, had he mistakenly hoped it had been Rachel? He had no proof that it had really existed, and he stopped short of traveling to the bus garage and searching every vehicle himself.

With the loss of his income, Jesse's splurges were severely cut back. He was forced to do overstuffed loads of laundry, scrounging around for quarters under his bed and dresser. He'd cancelled the gym membership and exercised in the living room. Even things he considered necessary like his morning coffee were placed on the back burner, causing him to invest in his bullshit coffeemaker.

So it was a big deal when he chose to splurge and stop at a Starbucks for a winter classic latte. It was only mid-November, but the store was already playing Christmas tunes. Jesse was deep in thought, lost in his latte and God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, when a tiny hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Jesse?" he was startled, and looked up to be met with glasses and reddish hair.

"Hey…Molly?" Jesse prayed he had her name right, and he was relieved when she beamed back at him. She sat in the chair opposite him, sipping on her drink quickly.

"It's really great to see you again! I was just talking to Jason about how I'd wanted to get a hold of you for casting—"

"You know Jason?" Jesse asked stupidly. Molly giggled, curling her legs up in the chair.

"Of course I know Jason, he introduced us, remember?"

"But I mean, he knew you before that?"

"He's been in a handful of my projects," she shrugged. "And now we're semi-close." Jesse looked at her suspiciously, and she giggled again. "No, we've never hooked up," she rolled her eyes. Jesse put his hands up innocently.

"I wasn't saying…" he trailed off. Molly's infectious giggle echoed again, and he smiled. It was a strange feeling, flirting with someone again.

"Hey, could I get your contact info?" she asked, and Jesse nodded. Molly handed him a pen and he scrawled on the cardboard holder around his coffee.

"If you're feeling up to it, I'd really like you to audition. I think you'd be really good for the part." Jesse nodded, and Molly grinned, taking the pen and writing on her own cardboard wrapper. "I'll email you," she smiled, handing him the cardboard.

"Please do," Jesse smiled, but his stomach was in knots. Wasn't this what Rachel had wanted of him; moving on? Besides, it wasn't like he was planning on dating the girl; he was simply making connections. If she went on to be a successful filmmaker, he'd have an in, and perhaps she would contact him and his career would leap forward. Molly looked a bit red, and glanced at the wall clock.

"I hate to do this, but I've got to get to class," she bit her lip, but Jesse was already gone. His ears had tuned into the Christmas song—a belting note: a familiar, female belting note. He snapped out of his reverie and made to continue the conversation, but Molly had already left. He snapped up his coffee and ran to the counter.

"Excuse me."

"Can I help you sir?"

"Who's singing?"

"Excuse me?"

"This song, who is it?"

"I'm not sure, sir. My boss deals with all the music—"

"Is he here?"

"She comes in at five, sir," the barista glared at him. Jesse nodded, then backed away to examine the small stand of CD's. As desperately as he tried, however, none of them even listed "Oh Holy Night" as a track, let alone Rachel Berry. He gave up his search; perhaps Rachel simply had a vocal and physical doppelganger.

Thanksgiving was a small and quiet celebration. Taryn made both a small turkey and tofurky (despite how opposed to cooking the bird she was), and threw together some quick mashed potatoes and instant stuffing. Jason had picked up a pie from a small diner on his return from the theatre the night before. They were a small, screwed up family, but they were the only family he had left. In a weird way, Jesse had always been bounced from family to family each year—Vocal Adrenaline was always changing, and that was whom he'd spent the holiday with each year since he was fifteen. They rehearsed most of the day, and then a full Thanksgiving spread was set out for them by about 9PM. Shelby would berate their performance, then praise their hard work and toast to the future.

It was strange to think it had nearly been a year since the start of the Rachel ordeal. Thanksgiving had been a little over a week before Vocal Adrenaline had gone to Sectionals to scope out the competition. Two months later, Shelby had explained—she wanted Jesse to befriend the female lead of New Directions. Jesse had assumed sabotage, but Shelby had severely told him no. She needed to know more about this Rachel Berry girl, because there was a serious possibility that she was Rachel's mother.

Here he was, almost an entire year later, supposed to be giving thanks for the things he'd been given. He'd fallen in love with a girl whom he was merely supposed to introduce to her mother. He had stolen a Regionals win right from under her by screwing her and the team over, he'd abandoned the idea of college and moved to the city. He'd been cast in a show, then had that ripped away. What did he truly have to be thankful for? His health? Big whoop.

He lethargically finished his meal, and the messed up family plopped on the sofa and armchairs to gather around the television. As he watched Will Ferrell shove cotton balls in his mouth, marveling with his friends that networks wasted little to no time turning the world to Christmas, his mind began to wander. Where was Rachel? How was she spending the holiday? Did she have someone to spend the holidays with, like Hudson? Jesse berated himself—why couldn't he just get the balls to travel back to Ohio and confront her? There was always something that held him back; that told him it would be useless.

Jesse was slightly startled as his phone vibrated heavily in his pocket. It was an unfamiliar number, and although he doubted and tried to terminate the thought, he had a fleeting hope that it was Rachel. Rushing to his bedroom, Jesse answered the phone breathlessly.

"Hi, Jesse?" a female voice spoke. His hearth was thundering. "It's Molly." Of course it had been Molly; it was stupid of him to believe it was anyone else.

"Hey Molly. How's your holiday?"

"Oh hell, I keep forgetting it's Thanksgiving. Am I interrupting?"

"Nah," Jesse laughed. "Just watching Elf with my roommates."

"Ooh, Zooey Deschanel," Molly remarked.

"In her blonde days," Jesse retorted. "Not my favorite. Have you ever seen that awful made for TV version of "Once Upon a Mattress" that she was in?"

"Oh my god I love that movie!" Molly gushed. "I thought Sir Harry was so cute!" she giggled.

"You know, I had a choir teacher who looked remarkably like him," Jesse realized. They laughed a bit longer, and then molly gathered herself.

"Look at me, getting all off-topic and unprofessional. My professor would not be very pleased with me. Anyway, I called to inform you I'm holding auditions for an untitled project next week, what would that be…December 3rd."

"Okay," Jesse grabbed a sheet of paper and scrawled the date and an address Molly rattled off.

"I'd love for you to come Jesse. I feel like you would have a pretty good shot," Molly alluded. Jesse laughed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I'll be there Molly," he assured her.

"That's great. Thank you so much Jesse, this is going to be great."

"Hey, at least give the other auditioners a chance!" he teasingly protested. Molly chuckled, and Jesse let a smirk escape his lips.

"I'm so excited to see you again!" Molly squealed.

"I am too," Jesse said, and shockingly, meant it.

"Bye Jesse!" she hung up quickly, and Jesse stared at his phone for a moment, a smile playing at his lips. Connections, he reminded himself. He was merely in this to make connections. He looked the address over once more, and suddenly, his breath caught in his throat.

He had written on the back of Rachel's letter.

Sick to his stomach, he threw himself onto the bed. What was happening? She was slipping away more and more rapidly, and he felt as though all his attempts to keep her were sliding through his fingers like sand.

With little surprise to anyone, Jesse was cast in Molly's narrative short. HE would be playing Kellan—a young man lamenting the loss of his love, and who, as the film comes to it's climax, helps the audience realize he has killed her. An unoriginal plot, Jesse had to admit, but it was work, and it would be a great exercise for his acting depth. The female lead was being played by a woman from Jersey whom Molly had found online, and who had apparently been in a handful of odd commercials. Jesse liked her—she was dedicated and didn't mess around, and that was the kid of costar he needed. Molly's script was flawed, and he had every intention of changing the dialogue to better fit his character, but it was still something.

Rehearsals were strangely smooth. Jesse detested how much e could relate to his character—true, he hadn't murdered Rachel, but he had pushed her away and was now suffering from it. It was definitely something he'd be pulling from to give Kellan credibility.

December rolled around and with it came the snow. Jesse painfully took up a day job at the Starbucks he used to frequent as a patron, hoping to scrape up just enough money to get by. He would make gingerbread lattes by day and go to rehearsal at Molly's apartment by night. The extra money (and free coffee) was a huge help, and he enjoyed talking to the rushes of caffeine addicts that flowed in and out. Snow piled up outside, and travelers with Christmas packages hurried back and forth.

Jesse was refilling a businessman's to-go cup when the intro to "Oh Holy Night" echoed about the shop. He spilled a bit of coffee on his wrist, and hissing, handed the gentle man his cup. Wiping off his wrist, Jesse poked his head into the manager's office.

"Shelly, who is this?"

"What?" she asked, looking up.

"Singing. This album. Who is it?"

"Uh, I'm not sure. I think it's like, A New York Christmas or something. They gave them out to all the small companies in the city—"

"Do you have the track list?"

"Jesse you should be working."

"Please Shell, could you find it for me?"

"I'll do my best," she blew him off. Frustrated, Jesse returned to the coffee bar, his routine continuing.

When 4 o'clock rolled around, he threw off his black hat and green apron, and walked back to Shelly's office.

"Shelly?" he poked his head in.

"Here," she held out her arm, not even glancing up. Jesse grabbed it eagerly, searching down the tracklist. There, at track 9 was "Oh Holy Night," but Jesse was no further in his search—the song listed "female vocals" as the performer. Jesse let out a frustrated growl.

"Problem?" Shelly asked. Jesse sighed and shook his head, returning the CD case to her desk. He paused, then shifted.

"Can I borrow this and make a copy?"

"You can do whatever the hell you want Jesse. Just please get the hell out of my office." Jesse switched out the Christmas albums at the stereo and rushed back to his apartment to ready himself for rehearsal. Whether it really was Rachel or it was simply a figment of his imagination, at least having the track would make him feel closer to her, whether it was all pretend or not.

Jesse sent a birthday card to Rachel's Ohio address with little hope. He begged her to call him; that they needed to talk. He was well aware that it was likely she wasn't even living in the same house, but the promise of possibly getting a hold of her was too great. The morning of her birthday, Jesse stared at his phone for a full 20 minutes before finally dialing Rachel's phone number with baited breath

"The number you have dialed is no longer in service—"

She had changed her number.

Jesse was furious, a fresh stabbing pain burning in his chest. He needed to know why she had disappeared—where she had gone. Mindlessly, he made a phone call.

"Yo?" the voice answered as Jesse ran a hand through his hair.

"Look, before you start threatening my life, let me explain. It's Rachel's birthday and I need to talk to her. Help a brother out?"

"Don't ever say brother again, and I'll think about it."

"Hey Puck."

"What's good?" the male asked. Jesse let out a sigh, and began to pour his heart out.

"Not much. I miss Rachel, lost my job, and I just…I need to know where she is."

"Well I hate to tell you, sunshine, but you know just as much as I do."

"Sorry?"

"Look, I'm not even supposed to tell you this. But she never came back after you guys broke up. She called me apologizing that she wouldn't be coming back to Glee club, but she refused to tell me why…"

"Why would she do a thing like that?"

"Because of you, douche-face."

"Excuse me?" Jesse's mind was spinning. If Rachel had never gone home, then where had she gone?

"I haven't talked to her since September," Puck admitted. Jesse's heart thudded in his chest. Rachel had cut off contact with everyone—but why?

"What the hell…" Jesse sighed in frustration. Puck laughed bitterly.

"I feel you man. Rachel was…I mean…I care about her, which is strange for a guy like me to say. I mean, it's not in any kind of sexual way, which is even weirder…" Puck sounded perplexed, and Jesse just slammed his head back against the wall.

"I need to get her back. I messed up royally—"

"You can say that again. You're lucky you still have testicles." Jesse blinked, startled, but continued to speak regardless.

"I'm going to find her. And you're going to help me."

"Dude, look. If Rachel wanted to be found, she would have contacted us already. Let her live her friggin' life." Jesse stared at his phone for a moment. How could it be that it was Noah Puckerman who was the voice of reason, while he attempted to push his every will to find Rachel.

"That's not good enough," Jesse growled.

"It's too damn bad, Jesse. Sometimes you just have to put up with bullshit like this. Like I'm putting up with the fact Quinn is dating some blonde fa—shit, I promised Kurt I wouldn't use that word anymore. Well anyway, Quinn's dating this kid she barely knows, and I just have to deal with it."

"I can't just deal with this, Puckerman. I've been "just dealing with" this for four months now, and I can't do it anymore—"

"She's in New York, you idiot."