A/N: Isn't it funny how everything has truly changed since I last updated this story? Lol. Hope you're all ok, thank you for coming back and reading!

"Alright, so, Rach has glee rehearsal after school every day this week. She also has her practice AP world history exam tomorrow, so please remind her to study, and then here's her laundry. Took it out of the dryer this morning, so I didn't get a chance to iron some of her skirts," Shelby listed off, stopping at the end to capture her breath while she relegated the duffel bag at the base of the stairs. "She also got up before me this morning for a run, so I was thinking of an early bedtime tonight. But you'll have her call me before she sleeps?"

Hiram glanced down at the woman currently bent over to fix the zipper on the weekend bag, distractedly fussing with it to close it shut. He smirked slightly, fond amusement tickling the sides of his mouth.

"What?" Shelby questioned when she finally met his entertained features.

"Nothing," Hiram was quick to answer, offering a fast shrug. "I didn't say anything."

"Hiram."

"It's nothing, Shel," he reiterated, shaking his head, now laughing. "I promise. It's just… did you hear yourself right now?"

She frowned, not following along. "What are you talking about?"

"You've just come a really long way, you know?" He explained, positively beaming. "You sounded like such a mom right there. And you didn't even send me your grocery list for the week."

Blushing, Shelby joined his laughter and responded with a slight nudge of her elbow. "I am a mom."

"That's right. You are," he nodded his agreement with a smile. "Yes. I will pick her up after school, have her study, and remind her to call you before bed. I got ya," he reassured. "How was the weekend? Rach said it rained, but that she had a lot of fun? Can't believe you got our daughter to go out into the woods."

She also accepted his hug hello and peered over his shoulder for any signs of their said teenager before responding.

"Thanks. Definitely not out of her own volition, but no, it was good," she said honestly, sighing and dropping her eyes when she pulled away. "It was really nice. I enjoyed it too, and I think we both needed it. We got to actually talk for once. It was good. But do you have some time right now before you drop Rach off. Can we go into your office to talk?"

"Yeah, of course we can," he granted while he led them down the hallway toward his designated work space. "What's up? Are you okay? What time is your flight?"

"I still have a couple hours," she answered, gently closing the door behind her. "And I still have to drop off something with my sister before I head to the airport, so I have some time. I just…" she hesitated, measuring her words carefully before she shared the news. "Did you get a chance to talk to LeRoy last night?"

"No," he responded with suspicion in his voice. "Should I have? What's going on? Is Rach finally talking to him?"

Shelby watched him lean against the front of the desk, straighten his back, and smooth down his tie in the same nervous manner that reminded her acutely of their daughter. It was clearer to her now than before that they were more alike than she had originally realized. Mannerisms aside, her daughter's wit, her charm, her agreeable nature was all Hiram. Her intellect, drive, and curiosity she could credit to LeRoy. And, every day, she saw herself too. Undoubtedly, Rachel was all of them. The bestpieces of the three of them. And it was up to her, Hiram, LeRoy, together, to figure out how to pick up the parts they had inadvertently broken and put her back together. It was on them to help their daughter feel whole again.

"Has LeRoy mentioned anything to you about Paul?"

"Paul? No. Who is that?" His smile slipped even further.

Shelby took a timid step forward, pausing when she glanced at a framed photograph of Rachel's most recent school picture on the bookcase. She still couldn't process how but somehow, in a blink, they now had a high schooler.

"Paul is LeRoy's… new… you should talk to him. I think he might be dating again. Have you two discussed at all how you would handle this when you got… here?"

Hiram's eyes dropped to the floor, the silence stretching languidly between them while the creeping realization dawned across his face. "Oh. No… we haven't."

"Well..."

"Rachel knows? How?"

Shelby confirmed with a nod. "She was trying to call last week and Paul accidentally picked up his cell phone. She just put it together. You know Rach."

"Yeah, I know," he said tiredly, there was an acceptance in his tone that didn't dull the ache in his heart. "So... that's why she's been upset with him and won't talk to him?"

"I think so," she sighed. "We had a long talk about it over the weekend and she's honestly blindsided… again. And she said she feels like she's always on the outside when it comes to the three of you and spoke about how she doesn't like when things are being kept from her."

"Shelby…" Hiram began, struggling to even respond. "That's not, l didn't even… I didn't know anything about Paul. This is news to me, too. LeRoy didn't…he did not say anything to me."

"I know," she interrupted, shaking her head in objection. She didn't mention it to lay blame on anyone. "I'm not implying anything. And I'm also not assuming that LeRoy wasn't going to tell us eventually. It is his business after all, but Rachel did find out, so I do think we all need to discuss how to handle this. We need to be on the same page."

"Yeah," he agreed with a slow nod and furrowed brows. "She hasn't talked to LeRoy about it?"

"No, she hasn't… but I think that's exactly the issue here."

"What do you mean?"

The mother paused momentarily to take stock. A few months ago, she wouldn't have even known how to approach this situation. She was the rookie. New to the team. She was still learning the rules, figuring out their boundaries, memorizing the playbook. But now, she was being asked to make a game time decision from her position. Parenting was, after all, nothing if not a team sport. It was about planning, communicating, reviewing — coordinating between the three of them to do it as effectively as possible. It was about sharing. If they lose, they lose together. If they win, they win together. And it was up to her now to decide their next play to put them in the best position to succeed. Because, really, it wasn't a game. Anything but. The cost, at the end of the day, would be Rachel's happiness. It was their daughter's wellbeing at stake.

She opted for offense. "Rachel can't talk to you or LeRoy about it because she doesn't know how to. And at the same time, she doesn't think that either of you are talking to her."

Hurt filtered into the father's features, taken aback by the assertion. "What are you talking about?" He couldn't help but question, on his end, electing to play defense. "Outside? Rachel talks to me. And we talk to her just fine."

"Yes," Shelby conceded some ground. "She does. And I'm not saying that she doesn't. I'm sure you do talk to her sometimes. But we spoke this weekend about how difficult it is for her to even just come to the two of you with her worries because she feels like she's on the outside."

"The outside?" Hiram shook his head, entirely perplexed. "Rachel's my daughter. Where else would she be if not included in everything that we do? What is she even talking about? I'm not the one who's keeping a secret relationship from her. She should talk to her other father about that, I'm not the one who..."

"Hiram," Shelby held up her hand to cut off, refusing to give in any more vantage on the field. "I'm not trying to attack you. I'm not passing judgment. That's not how we operate, right? But we agreed — you, LeRoy, and I sat down and we said that in order for this to work, in order for us to co-parent successfully, that we would be honest with one another and call each other out when necessary. I am not trying to say that it's your fault. It's not even LeRoy's fault either. We also said that we would assume the best intentions from one another, remember? But here's the thing: we can expect that from each other, completely, and we should; but equally we can't place that onus on Rachel. It's not enough to just expect her to trust us. We blew up her entire life — the three of us. And we also can't just assume anymore that she's perfectly fine just because she says she is or because she's not saying she isn't. You know? She's clearly not."

From her perspective, there was a clear pattern now of Rachel withholding her struggles and her true feelings from them: Thanksgiving, LeRoy's departure, the bullying, Paul, and probably more than she could even begin to guess. And whether or not it was because her daughter didn't feel like she could genuinely be honest with any of them or it was because she wasn't simply ready; it had to change. They had to help her. That's what she promised Rachel. That she didn't have to do it on her own. That she had a support system, a team, to help her carry it all.

"Okay, I understand," Hiram surrendered, finally. "I hear you. And I will make more of a concerted effort to be more truthful about everything that's going on with me, and us, with her too. I, just, I don't know Shel. It's hard, you know? I just want to protect her. She's my baby."

"Of course. And I do too, I promise you that. I just don't think that we're doing Rachel any favors if we're shielding her to the point where she feels like nobody trusts her, or if she feels like she's not included. It has to be a two-way street. And she is our baby, but Rachel's also growing up, right? She constantly proves to me that she's tougher, and smarter, than we think. I tell her this all the time, and God I hope that it's sinking in, but I really do believe that the only way we all get through everything is if we begin to just, yeah, be honest and talk to one another."

"Okay, I know," the father gave an agreeing sigh, straightening his posture and his tie again in one decisive move. "You're absolutely right Shel. And I'm with you. I will talk to LeRoy too about this Paul thing and I'll discuss it with Rachel this evening. We'll figure it out. Together, right?"

"That's right," she smiled, point made, goal achieved. "Stronger, together."

Soon after inhaling a small breakfast under the watch of her parents' suspiciously careful eyes, Rachel threw her bag in the back seat before reluctantly climbing into the front of the Range Rover.

She usually didn't mind Mondays, but she wasn't necessarily enthused at the thought of returning to school after an entire week off. Although, the impromptu getaway to the lake house did actually end up being a lot more relaxing than she anticipated. She could've done without the matching emotional breakdowns, but her mother had given her a considerable amount of space since then to process. And, also to her credit, Rachel could admit that she did feel slightly better after talking it out, or beginning to at least. Truly only time will tell, though, if she would ever do that again.

"Are you excited to see your friends, hon?"

"I guess," Rachel answered, her tone clipped. "Excited to see my friends. Not excited for the rest of it."

As soon as she responded, she caught the corners of the older woman's lips plummet ever so slightly through her periphery. She then squirmed uneasily in her seat as the seconds ticked by.

To be perfectly honest, she was just a bit more tired than usual this morning. Irritated, perhaps, at her increasingly dour mood. The idea of her mom going away for a few days was also settling in uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach. And she was already apprehensive about the week ahead. There were only five weeks left before Regionals, they were comically unprepared, and she seemed to be the only one who felt any pressure or even genuinely cared.

But Regionals mattered to her. Winning did. Joining show choir was one of the only things she felt like she had done right this year, and she wanted her effort to culminate into something other than a slaughter rule loss to Vocal Adrenaline. To Shelby Corcoran, of all people, to whom sometimes she felt like she still had something to prove.

She could practically feel the stress prickling at the back of her neck.

"Yeah, I get that," her mother offered a few moments later. "Coming back after a break can be tough, but it'll be okay. Just gotta get back into a routine, yeah? And then it's only a couple more months until the summer. It'll fly by. It always does."

"Mhmm."

"You okay, Rach?"

"I'm fine," she was fast to respond. For better or for worse, her mother really was becoming far too astute at reading her mood. Or, maybe she was doing a poorer job of concealing it anymore. No matter what, she was not about to have yet another emotionally charged conversation before 8 a.m. that day. Not if she can help it.

"Just… wish I could come with you. Still can't believe you're going to New York without me."

"I already promised we can go back together this summer. You can accompany me and my team when we go to Nationals."

"Mom!" Rachel groaned, rolling her eyes in sheer exasperation. "Stop. Need I remind you, again, that you haven't won anything yet. Regionals is still in play. Nothing's final. We can still beat you, you know. I've got plans."

"Oh yeah?" Shelby questioned, chuckling this time. "And what are these so-called plans? Do they involve you losing to your mother? A second-place finish?"

"Wow! No wonder your Vocal Adrenaline kids have massively overly inflated egos. Guess who they got it from!?"

Shelby couldn't help the hearty laugh that escaped at that retort.

"You gonna miss me, babe?"

"No."

"Really? Not even a little bit? Cause I am going to miss you a lot, a lot, honey. I mean it."

Rachel was slow to shake her head, reaching out to smooth the wrinkles out of her skirt before folding her arms firmly across her chest. Of course, she was going to miss her too. But a part of her was also relieved for the space. She loved her parents. She needed her mom. She knew they cared. Sometimes, though, she just wanted room to just be and take in all that was going on, to process everything that was changing. To breathe when everything continued to feel upside down and inside out. She exhaled heavily.

"You'll be back Saturday?"

"I will. And I will pick you up as soon as I get in from the airport to go to lunch with your grandparents. Is that okay?"

"Mhmm."

"It's only a few days Rach, I'll be back before you know it. And—"

"What are you even doing again, anyway?"

"Business, I told you. Just going to meet with Marty, check in on the apartment, see a few friends. You have rehearsal every night this week, right? And we can call every evening before bed, like always. You won't even get a chance to miss me, kid. I'll be back so soon."

Rachel cleared her throat, ignoring the twisting knot in her stomach that had begun to form. She really was not excited for this week whatsoever.

"Promise?"

"Rach, of course I promise I'll be back. Why would you ask that? Baby, are you—"

"No," she dismissed it, feigning a neutral expression instead.

She knew what her mother was going to ask, but even if she wanted to answer, she didn't even know what this was about yet anyway. Generally, she was fine. She felt fine. So, she had to be fine. Her mom being away was going to be fine. School was going to be fine. Glee was going to be fine. It was all going to be perfectly fine.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I'm fine. I just mean that... if I was going to New York, I would never ever, ever want to come back."

Fortunately, Shelby gave another light chuckle that automatically eased some of the growing tension away.

"No? Never ever? Not even to come visit your dear old mom?"

"No," she smirked, letting out her own laugh. "But I guess you can visit me every time your team makes it Nationals or something."

Jesse wasn't fine.

Far from it. Categorically, he was having a pretty bad day. And the one thing that he couldn't shake no matter how hard he tried was the fact that he knew that if he just explained it to her, that she would understand. Completely.

Jesse knew that Rachel would get that he had to do this. She would get that all his actions had always been driven by his sheer resolve to achieve success. Because he sincerely believed that they shared this determination, the ambition, and the dreams. They both accepted the necessity of some collateral damage along the way. But never once, since he started to pursue this friendship with her, did he envision that committing himself, agreeing, to hurting Rachel, and her team, would ever constitute that damage. Especially since he promised her mother wouldn't. He gave his coach his word.

Giselle patted him on his shoulder in a petty excuse of comfort, but he shrugged her arm off with an indignant scoff. He was still furious at her for even giving him this ultimatum. Giselle knew that he and Rachel were friends. She also knew how close he was with Shelby. And she knew perfectly well what was at stake for him.

Despite his anger, though, he understood her reasons. He got it too. Giselle and the rest of the graduating seniors on the team needed another win to secure their college applications, and she also needed to know that they were leaving behind their legacy, the dynasty they all built together, to someone who was worthy, who would protect the progress they've all had to fight for. They were a team, after all. Rain or shine, he knew they had his back unconditionally. So, he had to have theirs. It was the culture that Shelby herself cultivated intentionally, assiduously. No matter what, they did it together. They were better, together. They were stronger, together.

And, it turned out that Jesse was the one who needed it the most. He wanted the top spot. He needed what Giselle was offering him: the keys to the proverbial kingdom. Vocal Adrenaline had been well, everything, to him the past three years. He's certainly never worked harder at anything else in his life.

When he first came to Carmel, he was just a mop-topped high school freshman with an astonishing amount of talent and absolutely no aim. No goal or idea about what the future held for him. A couple years ago, he really had assumed that life would hand him whatever it was he needed. After all, his family was rich, his father was powerful, though distant, and never understood. His pretty face and boyish charm got him out of trouble. He wasn't particularly interested in academics and didn't know how to apply himself to anything.

He'd auditioned for Vocal Adrenaline mostly to appease his dad who kept stressing the importance of having extracurricular activities, figuring that it might be a good way to get him off his back or, at the very least, meet girls. He knew he had a good voice and enjoyed theater; his parents had indulged him in music and acting lessons since he was little. But he'd never really had to try before. Ever. Nor did he particularly want to.

Until he joined Vocal Adrenaline.

And met the school's new show choir director.

While schools across the country seemed to be following a dangerous trend of cutting back resources on music education, Carmel was doing the opposite, trying instead, to expand their fine arts program and had headhunted a Tony-winning musical theater actress to coach their competitive show choir team. Shelby Corcoran had awoken his fierce competitive instincts by not fawning over him. She'd listened blandly to his audition, bored, then proceeded to calmly inform him of every single flaw in his performance. But on the flip side, she had clearly seen something that he had to offer. Suddenly, he had someone in his life who saw potential in him. She didn't waste a single second and put him to work, pushed him further, made him want it more. Jesse wasn't dense. He knew perfectly well that it was quite literally because of Shelby Corcoran that he even knew who he was or understood what he wanted today.

But his annoyance at Giselle was still there, brewing, because Vocal Adrenaline didn't really need to scare New Directions — it was just a precaution. He let out another disgruntled sigh and glanced gloomily at the back entrance of William H. Mckinley High School, silently praying for her, or anyone really, to emerge and stop this madness.

Then, he almost laughed at himself. There he was, Jesse St. James, the next lead vocalist for the winningest national champion show choir team in the country, nervous before the traditional act of psyching out the competition – because of some girl, let alone a freshman on a rival team.

But, somehow, it certainly felt like his entire career, his dream, his future was on the line; and yet, he could think only about the inevitable hurt in Rachel's eyes when she sees him on the stage. Or the fear coursing freely through his body at the thought of Shelby finding out. She probably would, and will, if he had to bet on it, but it was now or never while she was out of town.

Actually, no, Jesse attempted to course correct his own imagination. Rachel wouldn't be that hurt by their performance or his part in it; no, she would most probably consider it a challenge and channel the anger into making her own performance perfect. The only source of true harm would most probably come from her team itself. He knew that Rachel had a tenuous relationship with her fellow teammates. She was the new kid, made worse by the fact that she happened to be the daughter of the coach of their only real competition. And Jesse knew how desperately she strived for their acceptance. She didn't even need to explicitly say it. To spare her that, he was almost ready to give up and leave, facing the consequences. What could Giselle and the other VA seniors really do, anyway? He had nothing to prove. He would still assume the leadership role he'd been striving for. A part of him believed that Shelby wouldn't just take that away.

He did consider calling Rachel beforehand to give her a warning or responding to any of her unanswered texts. To tell her about the whole mess and to explain the pressure he was under. He had a team to answer to, too. He wanted to continue to be accepted, too. But he gave up after a few tries. He knew it was pointless either way: it wouldn't change a thing about the New Directions' inevitable harsh reaction.

And she was sure to be angry with him for blowing her off the past few weeks. It was arguably lousy of him to ghost her without an explanation after a near-death experience that he still blamed himself for. He could live with her anger for maddening her teammates; but the idea that he was breaking her trust, Shelby's, willingly, that frankly dissolved his nerves of steel and made him want to vomit.

Still, regardless of what happened after today, he had hoped that she would forgive him eventually. She would understand. Shelby would get that he did it for the team. They both would. They had all been through much worse.

That was why after another forceful nudge from Giselle, Jesse finally allowed himself to acknowledge her and emerge from her Range Rover. He briefly thought if all went according to plan, it would be his in a few months. After watching Giselle do a brief headcount, he silently filed in line behind her and walked across the parking lot towards the entrance closest to the fine arts wing in the building.

It didn't take much effort to sneak in, and they surreptitiously located the choir room and the theater in the same corridor. It was also in the middle of a class time, so the halls were completely empty except for a random student whom Giselle had glared down into oblivion. The choir room was vacant as well.

As soon as the door was shut and locked behind them, Giselle turned to face the 12 of them who were able to make the trip out. "So, I will look through the file sheets," she began to instruct. "Jesse and Al, you can go to the board. And the rest of you can TP the place. Don't hold back. Make it messy."

"Hey J, look what I found," Al called to him after some time. "Their Sectionals trophy. Kind of sad how it's the only one around. You want us to take care of that too?"

"No," he snapped. He pulled the trophy out of her hands and delicately placed it back where it belonged. "Rachel can be pissed at me for the performance and the pranks, but destroying her first and only show choir award would put me straight in a coffin. She and Coach would. No thank you."

He had half expected Al and the others to ridicule him for even considering Rachel's feelings, but they just nodded and the freshmen that had tagged along exchanged stupid smiles. It wasn't often that Jesse St. James displayed any emotions in front of them, if ever.

"Alright everyone," He announced dejectedly after briefly taking stock of the total chaos that surrounded them. He made eye contact with Giselle who gave him an approving nod and silent permission to continue. "It's show time."

They walked out of the choir room right as soon as the bell rang to mark the end of the period. A sea of students flooded the halls of McKinley as Jesse led his team back to the auditorium through the crowds. In the corner of his eyes, he spotted Tina and Artie, who he both recognized from previous hangouts with Rachel, and he tipped his head smirked, passing them without a word. They quickly fled down the corridor, most likely to signal to the rest of the team who they had just seen.

"Just saw those three cheerleaders too," Al murmured to Jesse. "No signs of Rachel yet, though."

"Oh, she'll be here," he said assuredly as he pushed through the double doors of the McKinley Auditorium with force. "I know Rachel. And she won't want to miss this."

For the most part, the odd feelings that the morning had brought on laid mostly dormant as the day progressed for Rachel. Most of her morning had gone on as usual. Though something felt a bit off, like she was missing something. It wasn't until after her last afternoon class that the anxious feeling in her stomach rose up and became an uncomfortable lump in the back of their throat. But since she couldn't necessarily pinpoint why, she just chalked it up to back to school jitters. Like always, she was content with faking it till she made it.

She was currently at her locker to collect her things for the end of the day. She had a study period now before glee rehearsal, and she usually met up with Kurt and Mercedes to get a head start on their homework together.

"Hey girl," Mercedes greeted as she and Kurt walked up to her locker. "We haven't seen you all day. You have a good break?"

"Hi guys! Yeah, my break was okay, thank you for asking," she replied back, beaming and happy to see her friends. "And yes, sorry about that, I meant to text but I went straight to the library earlier during lunch, and I got distracted because I was looking up possible choreo that we can suggest to Mr. Schue. My mom has all these tapes of past show choir competitions, and I've been taking notes. We really only have less than a month to get this all figured out and I was thinking that—"

Rachel then paused when she noticed Mercedes and Kurt exchange curious glances before stepping closer to her. She looked at them questioningly. "What's up?"

"Hey Rach, speaking of your mom… So, Mercedes and I were talking… do you happen to know anything about Vocal Adrenaline's Regionals set list yet?" Kurt asked silently, dropping his voice to a whisper. "You know… anything that would help us?"

Rachel's face fell. She shook her head, suddenly at loss of words. First, they accused her of spying for her mother and Vocal Adrenaline, and now they were, more or less, insinuating that she should spy for them. Of course, she wanted to win Regionals probably more than any of them combined, but she would never allow herself to cross that line or betray her mother's trust. Especially not when they had just had a discussion at length about staying open and honest with each other.

"No. I told you, my mom and I don't talk about the competition," she reminded them in a grave tone. "I mean, sure, we talk generally about show choir, but we have pretty strict boundaries when it comes to that sort of stuff. She doesn't even let me sit in on VA rehearsals anymore. Literally. She locks me up in her office while they practice if I have to go to Carmel with her. Everything's completely above water."

They grimaced in obvious disappointment but didn't push the topic further, for which she was eternally grateful. Because really, if she had to choose, she wasn't confident in making a decision one way or the other at this point. This was just another one of those things lately where she felt like she was being pulled in a million different directions. And she hated it.

"But it doesn't matter," Rachel smiled reassuringly. "I have a feeling that it's going to be our year. I know we're the underdogs, but I think that can actually be at our advantage because—"

"Rachel, Kurt, Mercedes!" Artie interrupted, wheeling up to them in a panicked haste. "Thank God you're all here. Come on, we have to go to the auditorium. It's an emergency. Tina and I just saw Jesse St. James and some other VA people walking down the hallway. The choir room is completely trashed too. We have to go check it out. It can't be good news."

"What?" Rachel was the first to respond, barely registering what Artie was relaying. None of that even remotely made any sense to her.

"What the hell?" Mercedes growled, the first of the three to get her wits back. "Rachel did you know they were going to do this? He's your friend, isn't he?"

"What? No!" She exclaimed, seeming quite alarmed and concerned at the matching suspicious expressions being directed her way. "Of course not! I have no idea what Artie's talking about I—"

"Rach, stop, hang on, it's okay, I believe you," Kurt interjected when he also spotted Finn, Mike, and Puck stalking past them in a flurry toward the auditorium. "Let's just go see what's happening."

Rachel hesitated for a split second, half-wishing that she could just run the other way, because she was already well aware that whatever they were going to find was somehow going to end up being her fault. While she was new to show choir, she knew that whatever their rival team was up to, it was only going to end poorly for her. She only forced herself to follow after the third time she heard her name being called.

When they arrived at the auditorium, the rest of their teammates were already all huddled together near the director's table that Mr. Schue usually used when they rehearsed there. Rachel quickly surveyed the scene, noticing the shock in everyone's faces at the sight of about a dozen Vocal Adrenaline members, many of them she recognized, poised, dressed to the nines, and standing still center stage.

Through the thick silence, Rachel spoke up first. "What's going on? Why are you guys here?" She stuttered, clearly knocked outside of her comfort zone.

The voice that replied was male, arrogant and unfortunately extremely familiar to Rachel who still remained shocked, concerned, and confused at the sight of her mother's show choir team standing in the middle of their auditorium. The neatly lined up members Vocal Adrenaline broke their perfect line to make way for none other than Jesse himself.

"What are you doing Jesse?" Rachel asked, growing incensed now at the dramatics. Whatever this was, it was completely absurd.

"What does it look like, Rachel?" Jesse spread his hands as if greeting them. His show face was planted firmly on his face. "We felt like you all needed some... motivation before Regionals," he smirked and bowed mockingly. "And we live to serve."

"Get out of here St. James," Quinn barked, stepping behind Rachel and glaring darkly at him. "This is stupid. We don't care, and you're not allowed here."

"Not so fast," he shot back. "The blogs and chat rooms all say we're finished and that you're ripe to topple us, so we just wanted to show you something we came up with a few days ago to see if you agree with that assessment."

Without waiting for a response, Jesse robotically schooled the emotions out of his face and took his place back with his team. A girl, who only Rachel recognized as being Giselle, Vocal Adrenaline's female lead, then sauntered over to him confidently and wrapped her arms around his waist.

Not even a moment later, the familiar beat for Queen's "Another One Bites the Dust" rang through the auditorium, Jesse's voice clear and enthralling as he began.

Rachel swallowed the dangerous lump in her throat and stared perplexed at the flawlessly moving Vocal Adrenaline, her mother's signature choreography written all over their fully in-sync movements. While he sang, Jesse had led the guys in his group towards the front edge of the stage, while the girls danced where they were. He fell backwards gracefully and the boys of Vocal Adrenaline, who had formed a semicircle around him, pulled him up with an equal ease.

The girls, led effortlessly by Giselle, came towards where the boys were now, skipping elegantly as they all paired up for the chorus. She was obviously Jesse's dance partner and gave him a coy wink before he and the other boys dropped down to sit on the floor while the girls rolled on their laps in a swirling mass of black and blue before getting up and seductively pulling them up.

The members of the New Directions remained completely fixated, drawn into the performance even more when Giselle's equally formidable voice cuttingly took the second verse for the Queen classic. She was smirking as she sang, allowing the real power of her tone to shine through, leaving her teammates aware of just how much she held back when she sang with any of them other than Jesse, and honestly leaving almost everyone in the auditorium floored with shock. If nothing else, all this performance proved was that Shelby Corcoran was that good at finding and grooming talent.

The song came to a triumphant end after a few more jumps and twirls and impeccably choreographed, adequately seductive sashays. A grinning Jesse and a clearly mockingly-smirking Giselle stood in front of them again, her arms draped over his shoulders and one of her legs hitched over his hip, while he held her possessively by her waist.

All Rachel could do was glare guiltily at the enigma that was Jesse St. James, while the rest of them wore seriously petrified expressions on their faces. Together and individually, Vocal Adrenaline's singing was without a single fault, almost taunting them with their biting murmurs, like irritating voices in the back of their minds. They were the reigning national show choir champions, and they wanted the New Directions to know it.

Noticing the chorus of stunned expressions on their competition, Vocal Adrenaline broke from their final position in a mess of cheers and congratulations, while Giselle and Jesse, relieved, took their bows.

"Thanks for lending us your stage. It's… quaint," Giselle said with a shruggish indifference. Satisfied, she turned on her heels and flounced away with a flourish. And Vocal Adrenaline followed her lead and also swaggered off stage. But Jesse stood still for a fleeting moment when Rachel locked her eyes with his. He held it for a moment while he caught his breath, but ultimately dropped his gaze first before turning his back on her and following the rest of the team off stage without another look back.

She was hot with agitation now and completely reeling from the fact that the boy who had sworn to her that he wouldn't hurt her could do so in such a public and humiliating way. More so, she was silently lambasting herself at how she allowed herself to let her guard down.

"I knew I didn't trust him," Quinn grumbled when the auditorium door slammed shut a few seconds later

"Oh jeez, I feel unwell," Artie said, clutching his stomach. "That was unreal."

"What the hell supposed to do now?" Mercedes threw her hands in the air. "How are we supposed to compete with that!?"

The rest of the group groaned their agreement ignoring Quinn's dagger eyes at them to stop.

"Berry, did you know? Was all of that your mom's plan or something?" Puck questioned. "That shit was very put together."

"I-I don't know," she stammered, shaking her head profusely. She couldn't see a version of this where her mother would give any of them permission to leave Carmel during class hours just to do this. There was no way. She was too strict and all professional. They had to have acted of their own accord. This had to have been some sort of weird team ritual to mess with their heads. The worst part was that it was already working.

"And the choir room is completely trashed, by the way," Finn pointed out. "Like we have to do something. They can't just mess with us like this and get away with it."

"That Jesse dude is such a douche," Santana felt compelled to add. "I swear to God, the next time he shows up here, it's on sight. Him and that 'it was quaint' girl," she said, in a mocking copycat tone. "Who does she even think she is?!"

Rolling his eyes, Finn spoke up, cut the tirade short, and then led the group outside muttering about meeting in the choir room to properly check out the damage and regroup.

Quinn heaved a sigh and walked over to Rachel before hesitantly touching her shoulder.

"Hey. You okay?"

"If you're just going to say I told you so and terminate our friendship, just please make it quick," she answered tonelessly, still staring at the stage where Jesse had stood. If their intention was to cause her to feel like she didn't know which way was up, then they definitely succeeded.

"Jesus, what are you talking about? Nah don't be dramatic Rach, I know everybody is all riled up right now, but whatever, it's not your fault. I know there's no way Shelby let them come here to do that without even warning you. That felt like all Jesse."

It did. Rachel agreed. And it didn't. Either way, Finn was actually right for once: Whether or not her mother knew, they couldn't, she couldn't, let the psychological warfare inflicted by someone she actually considered a friend to go unanswered.

"Hey!" Rachel's augmented voice carried directly across the parking lot. "Jesse! Get back here!"

All of the tension she felt brewing inside of her was finally bursting out of her like an uncontrollable geyser. She was a sea of emotions, and she felt everything deeply, crashing into her all at once. Jesse and his stupid, unnecessary prank was the literal last thing that she needed today. This week. This year. Her insides felt scorching hot and she felt instantly inflated. The only thing that semi-catapulted her from the depths of her fury was the fact that her command seemed to have shocked her intended target straight into nervous attention.

Jesse finally brought his hurried steps to a grinding halt halfway to the row of the Range Rovers and his team waiting expectantly for him. He threw a warning look to Giselle and the others to allow him to handle this himself.

"Rachel, hello," he greeted when she caught up with him, as if they had just casually run into each other. He was employing his patented serious, cool and calm collected tone. But she knew better, because she was the same, and she knew that it usually meant that she was either shocked or scared. She was hoping he was both in this instance.

"So, what? You're just going to pretend to be my friend, ignore me for days, and then come in here and pull this in front of my team at my school? What are you even doing? What are you trying to prove?"

Her words hit hard and blunt as if the solvent of his humor had evaporated and left only the salt of her anger.

"Okay, before you do anything you regret I need you to know that your mother had nothing to do with this and she doesn't even know we're here. It was just a—"

Rachel shook her head, cutting him off. "I don't care! Because they're going to blame me!" She all but screamed, losing any semblance of calm she once possessed. "Obviously that means nothing to you. You have friends, you have a team already who aren't questioning everything you do! Everything already sucks. Do you know how much harder you just made everything for me? Do you even care?"

Jesse swallowed, his eyes flicking back and forth across her face as if he was trying to understand, and looking to see if he still had a way out of this confrontation.

"Look, I'm sorry," he offered. His voice was tight now, as if he was desperately trying to rein in something within himself. "But I had to," he also dropped his eyes. "You're not totally right, you know. Giselle was questioning my loyalty, too. They all were. And you know I'm going to be a senior next year. I have college auditions. We need to win. And I had to do something. You would've done the same! Besides, you know it's just because they see you as an actual threat, so really, you should be flattered. It's all business Rachel, you must know that."

"Well you should have warned me at least," she retorted, unrelenting. "Or stayed out of the choir room! It's going to take us forever to clean that up. Mr. Schue's going to make a huge deal out of this."

A part of her could empathize, sure, and even understand his intentions. But she was sincerely baffled by the subterfuge. Tired, again, of the people in her life sneaking around her back, keeping her in the dark, assuming she was just going to understand. It might have just happened but she could already tell that the humiliation was going to stay under her skin like radioactive material for at least a few days.

"You know I couldn't have done that."

"Well I just don't need this right now. Not on top of everything. You know that better than anyone. You screwed me, Jesse. I thought we were friends."

"We are friends! Don't be like this, Rach. Whatever, you're right, I would be pissed too. And I don't expect you to get it now, but don't take it personally. It's not that deep. They'll get over it."

"Do not tell me what to do."

Her hands found her hips as she glared up at him. The heat radiating from her eyes was magnificent. And she was like a simmering bed of coals just waiting to burst into flame. The only other time Jesse had ever felt this way was when he got caught in Shelby Corcoran's direct line of fire. And he did not like it in the slightest.

"Are you going to tell your mom?" He finally asked, his resolve wavering.

"No," Rachel's flames were riotous now; burning behind the dark snap of her angry eyes. "I'm not," she decided, hell bent on finally taking back control. "You asked for it. Because now, I'm going to do what I have to do."