Between the Sheets had the smell of Jericho's father about it. It smelled like music, if music had a smell. Jericho remembered briefly that the cheerleading coach at school had called the smell something moldy or unpleasant. He disagreed.

Jericho knew what music smelled like: history, creativity, possibility, and maybe even joy. Or it had. That was before the accident, before he had shut away the joy. He hadn't felt that joy in so long, every now and then at church or when he raised money for charity. But joy- joy was an elusive thing. A bird in the eye of a hurricane or something like that.

Running low on time, Jericho headed straight for the gospel section. He knew he needed the third fake book in the Greatest series. Damn, he thought to himself, they only have one and four. I could do an order but it would take too long. Well, lets see what four has in it.

Flipping the slightly cumbersome book around, he paused with his finger on the listing of each song. Good, Good, Ugh, Good, Need that, Maybe, Maybe, Good

Four was turning out to have some prospects. There was Mercy Me, some Charlie Hall, and even an almost recent Newsboy song. Still, it wasn't Volume 3 but it would have to do. That was one thing down…now for the next.

Jericho walked back over to cd racks and looked around for a moment, slightly bewildered. He didn't recognize a third of the names and most of them that he recognized were doing the 20th Century or Millenium releases. Wiz Khalifa? What the heck is a Wiz Khalifa and why does he look so awful? Jericho thought to himself, mildly appalled at feeling older.

There was more time to dawdle here, but Jericho knew he couldn't dawdle long. There was always Michael Buble but Jericho was kind of sick of Buble. He'd been doing Buble covers for too long. It was expected, it was boring, it was…

"Penny for your thoughts?"

It was bow-tied. "I'm sorry?"

"You're standing here looking like a deer in headlights. Need help?"

Jericho shifted the weight of the fake book in his arms. "Do you work here?"

Bow-tied guy leaned in slightly, hands loose behind his back. "No, but I know music."

"It's not that I don't know music, I just don't recognize most of the artists here anymore. This Wiz guy and Panic at the Disco and Band Perry…I mean, who are all these people? What happened to all the gre…oh God, I sound like my mother."

The man let out a chuckle. "Don't worry. Don't feel bad, gets the best of me sometimes too. What are you looking for?"

"Well," Jericho thought for a moment on how to explain to the 50s style dreamboat standing before him, "I'm an emcee at this annual fundraiser for my church and they always expect something from me. And most times I have something good to offer. I've done decade themes, show tune themes, and even gospel stuff. I wanna do something great, but something that won't get me Old Testament stoned or anything."

"What's your range?"

"Baritenor. Can we at least trade names if we're gonna learn everything about each other?"

"Blaine."

"Blaine?"

"What's wrong with Blaine?"

It sounds like an American Gladiator name, Jericho thought to himself rudely. "Nothing. It's just unexpected is all. My name is Jericho. So how do you know so much about music?"

Blaine watched Jericho set down his softbound fake book on the side of the counter where his soon to be purchased items usually went and came back to same spot. "I'm a vocalist at Dalton Academy and we've got competition season so I'm finding stuff to sing."

"Isn't Dalton all guys?"

"Yeah, it's a male vocal group. You've never seen us perform?"

"Who has the time? I keep myself so busy I have to keep begging off stuff at McKinley as it is. But I can't avoid this, it's my fifth year hosting and I'm a softie for traditions. Gotta say though, if I have to perform Music Man one more time, I may shoot myself in the head."

Blaine gave more a full laugh to that. "I know what you mean. I perform at theme parks to earn extra money during the summer and it's so…."

"Ah," Jericho thought, rubbing his forehead as if conjuring an old memory," I've got war wounds from being the FAO Schwartz mascot for an MDA thing once."

"Poor thing. Well, let's find you something."

"Are you sure you don't work here?" Jericho teased as he watched Blaine's outstretched arm.

"I'm sure. I just like to help."

"That I can believe," Jericho nodded as they stopped at the cd wall.

Blaine: Mamas and the Papas?

Jericho: Pass. Too sixties, we've got a flapper theme this year.

Chicago soundtrack?

For a church event? I'm lucky if I can get them to even listen to Funny Girl stuff.

Etta James?

Not in my range.

Well, what artists are in your baritenor range then?

Buble, of course. Harry Connick, Raul Esparsa….anything up to Diana Ross in the Wiz if I'm feeling kinda crazy.

Maybe you should just get them to change the theme?

As if.

What about this?

Blaine picked up a cd off the rack and slid it beneath the laser bar where the black headphones where resting.

"Who's that?"

"Just trust me."

Jericho bit down on his lip a little before bringing out a pair of blue ear buds. "Fine, but we do this with my headphones. I'm not getting imaginary lice again, not like when I tutored those kindergarten kids."

"Okay, you mind if I listen too? Just to make sure we hit the right tracks?"

"Sure. Have the right one, left is my good ear anyways."

They stood next to each other as Adele started to play.

"That's pretty good."

"Wait," Blaine stated as he punched the button to the fifth track. "Try this one."

I let it fall, my heart

And it fell as you rose to claim it

"Woah," Jericho thought. "Much better than music man."

When the song ended, Blaine offered back the right ear bud. Jericho just blinked as he looked at Blaine, not realizing he had looked a little too long when Blaine broke back into his thoughts. "Here, you might need this."

"I…oh yeah," Jericho thought as he took the case. He already knew he was gonna buy the album and goodness it was going to sound fantastic.

A familiar soft voice walked over. "Hey, look who I find at Between the Sheets."

And it was dark and it was over

Until you kissed my lips and claimed it

Blaine smiled and Jericho merely blinked as he looked over at Kurt. "Hey Kurt," Blaine said, "how are you doing?"

"Yeah, you look…" Jericho was trying to put words to it. Of course, it was all over McKinley about Karofsky and Jericho didn't think the weekend was a good time to bring it up. He wished he could be there to stand up for Kurt but he was never around when it happened, "…stressed."

But there's a side to you

That I never knew, never knew

Kurt nodded. "Wedding plans. The reality is so much more…dramatic than in my little planning binder."

"Yeah," Blained replied, "and you just lost a piece of…mmm, nice fabric."

All the things you'd say

That were never true, never true

"Thanks," Kurt smiled at Blaine as he took it from his hand, "it's got a simple black fleur-de-lis with the crème that will match Carole's dress. If I can ever get that damn tailor to approve my shade of white."

Blaine let the curse word roll over him. "Kurt, you're kind of feisty today."

"Have to be when planning a wedding. So what are you two doing here?"

All the games you'd play

You would always win, always win

"I'm just hanging out, thinking about heading over to the Bean if you're interested. And of course, Jericho, you could come."

Both Kurt and Jericho shook their heads. "No," they echoed each other.

"I'd love to, but rehearsal," Jericho shrugged. "In fact, I'm going to be late if I dawdle much longer. I'd shake your hand but…"

Kurt juggled his overflowing binder. "Yeah, but I'll see you at school."

"So that's the name of the school you were spying for, Kurt?" Blaine asked.

"Yeah. That's us, the old McKinley Titans," Kurt shrugged with fake school enthusiasm.

John was amused. "Kurt and his gang of singing ruffians keep trying to get me to join New Directions. They seem to think I have talent."

Blaine gave Jericho a look. "You're emceeing events for your church, I'm sure you have talent."

Jericho chuckled. "Right. Well Blaine, it was nice to meet you. Maybe we'll see each other again some time?"

"Good luck," Blaine started, "and if you ever need to talk, Kurt has my number. Happy to be of any musical assistance."

Jericho nodded. "I'll think about it. And Kurt, go get some coffee with Blaine. You look like you're about to topple over."

Kurt stopped a moment to think about it and looked at Blaine who shrugged noncommittally. "Sure, sure. That would…be good."

Not much time, Jericho thought, as he entered the building. The church was round, built likea movie theater and complete with the same reclining plushy red seats. Stepping in a side door of the auditorium he walked up towards the stage where Mike was finishing setting up his v-synth.

When I lay with you

I could stay there

"Oh good, not too late."

"Late for you though, and still fifteen minutes before everybody else." Mike quipped.

"I know, couldn't seem to find the right fake book or I'd have been here earlier. Drew a blank for what I wanted to do for offertory while people are doing the vacation and summer things."

Close my eyes

Feel you here forever

Mike brought up some notes to test out volume levels on the v-synth. The monitors were fine but could use a little boost. "Hey Floyd, man, bring me up in four?"

Jericho started to plug in the four mikes needed for the weekend services, the black cords dangling down from the mike stands while they waited. "Ohp, there you go Mike. You make it sound like a Yes concert in here."

You and me together

Nothing is better

"Thanks," Mike grinned from behind his handmade keyboard monstrosity. "Pretty good set list this week. Can't wait to hear what you've got planned for offering."

"Yeah? I haven't gotten to check schedule planner and I'll probably do Casting Crowns or Third Day because well, hi."

"Extra schedules were dropped over on the coffee table, see what would fit in."

Jericho walked over to the coffee table where Pastor Dan usually set his bible and picked up the first page off the stack to look over the list.

Cause there's a side to you

That I never knew, never knew

"Hey Mike, you had a chance to read this yet?"

"Just the songs. Why?"

"I'm…I'm not singing this week."

"Bummer…you sounded pretty sure you were."

"Well yeah, I thought with the summer…we had…I'll just have to find out what's going on before practice starts."

All the things you'd say

That were never true, never true

Jericho kept his nose down and almost buried in the schedule list for the weekend services. He had a gnawing feeling in his gut, and not the good kind he got when he ruined grade curves. No, this was a feeling that maybe this had happened for not so good reasons, reasons he didn't want to think about, reasons his dad wouldn't have stood for.

But Jericho's dad was dead.

The light was on over the desk of the associate pastor of music and Kaylie's red guitar was standing in the corner, but there was no one in the office. And it wasn't prudent to just go looking around the place for Kaylie. There was no way to find her without being embarrassed and winding up sitting in on a rehearsal he wasn't playing for.

Jericho's face went taut. Was he angry? No. Not angry. Tired. Tired and hurt. It felt like bull and smelled like bull and who was there to blame? Himself, himself for getting his hopes up. Bitterness was welling up inside him. Jericho didn't want to be the star, just wanted a solo every once in a while, just wanted to spread his wings and see where they would go. Was that so bad? Was that criminal? What had he done that was so offensive?

All the games you play

You would always win, always win

Oh damn, Jericho thought as he felt the heat of tears well in his eyes, no. We can't do this. Not here, not now. Just, just get out of the building.

A light June rain had started, dampening the mugginess as he left Creekside Church. He was glad for the rain, but not for the mud. The streets adjacent as he half walked and half ran away were going to get muddy before too long. But he kept walking, just kept walking so he wouldn't think and so he could outrun the thoughts he hated, those thoughts of being buried underneath his worthlessness.

But I set fire to the rain

Watched it pour as I touched your face

There were no cars out, thank God, nothing to run him over or see him and offer a pity ride. He kept walking, stopping in the shade of the local Pizza Hut. He waited inside, ordered a pizza while drenching wet that he was not hungry for, and took the pizza back out into the night with him.

He walked until the rain began to make mud and his steps started making that squelching sound. He didn't cry, staying on the brink of solvency and sanity. He just kept walking, kept passing vacant road and lit house after lit house. Night was coming, he'd have to get home.

Well, it burned while I cried

Cause it heard it screaming out your name, your name

McKinley.

He passed his school, mostly out for summer but still open with all the SAT prep classes going on. Finally going in, he walked the halls, leaving a dripping trail every few yards with his stride. He turned hallway to hallway and then he was there, the empty auditorium.

Angry, tired, disaffected, holding a sopping wet pizza box, Jericho must have looked a sight. But he didn't care. There was no one here. The pizza box was set down on a seat near the stage with his bag that he hadn't even got to set down at Creekside. He reached in almost mechanically for the fake book. He'd practice, even if he wasn't worthy of playing. He'd do it acapella, read notes, know the words. The words of the hymns would calm him.

But Jericho's hands caught something else instead. The edges of the Adele case.

There was a cd player on the side table of the stage. He wouldn't even have to go up to the sound booth.

And she sounded like she knew him, knew what he was hiding, and how could Jericho fool anyone. He was hiding, he was absent. Angry, banished from his own life and future, punishing himself and letting himself be punished. All the time, day in and day out. Alone and brave yet so cowardly.

I set fire to the rain

I threw us into the flames

Where I felt something die

Cause I knew that it was the last time, the last time ooh!

Clapping at the end of the song.

Jericho turned, ready to bolt and then he saw Sam. Jericho hadn't realized he was shaking and whether it was from the cold and wet was unknown.

"Dude. That was really good."

"I…no one's supposed to be here. I was practicing."

"For Glee club? Cause we need a voice like that."

"No." Jericho's voice was flat and defiant as he rose up from his knees. He had fallen on his knees with emotion, pounded his fists on the stage floor like a toddler. "No." He said it again as if he didn't quite believe what he was saying.

"Okay," Sam put his hands up, "but you've got talent."

"Doesn't matter. Talent won't save me, won't help."

"Jericho, right? I've seen you with Quinn and the other guys from Glee but you always looked so together. What's going on?"

Jericho moved back a step, skittish. "No, I…."

He was tired, he wanted to break. Sam wanted to help but he couldn't do it. Couldn't bring himself to break the imposed silence. He'd need a good fake answer, better than silence.

"Hey man, you can talk to me. I'm trustworthy."

Jericho shook his head. "I've, I've got to go. I bought this pizza that I'm not gonna eat, just go ahead and help yourself but I've…"

He rushed away, leaving Sam behind the auditorium. His shoes squelched as he nearly bolted, running as hard as his shivering bones would take him. He barely missed Ms. Pillsbury watching him run, Sam almost too bewildered to keep up.

"Sam, was that Jericho running out of here like a madman?"

"It was," Sam answered while showing Emma the cd he had left behind and the bag with the hymn book, "and he was practicing Adele. But there's something else going on. He just wouldn't tell me what."

"I'm afraid he's too used to keeping it bottled up. We've been trying but it's getting worse for some reason."

Oh no

Let it burn

"Yeah, but he could sing. Man, he was singing about it, all that stuff he's not saying. I haven't heard someone like that since Kurt did that Le Hot Jazz number."

Let it burn

Let it burn

June song choice: "Set Fire to the Rain" by Adele