A/N: First off, thanks you all so, so much for the reviews and alerts and all that jazz. It really does mean a lot and I just hope this chapter has done enough justice to prove it. Secondly, apologies galore for the lack of updates with this, only I've really struggled to get back into this one, so I'm a little worried this chapter is more than a little bit weak. It's a little bit fragmented and a little bit on the short side but I hope it's okay. As always, read, review and enjoy :)

-StB-

The first time she runs through the scene with Jimmy, she can't help but think of Jesse. This scene – this stupid four minute slot – is the only reason she went to his room that night (or so she tells herself) and now she's filled with so much more than she'd bargained for. She knows she's supposed to be Lola having a crazy fling with Ricardo but given that Jesse's her only experience on this matter, it's hard to get him out of her head.

And it's even harder when he sits just metres away, watching her every move and hoping to catch her eye line just once. Because this first time they run through the scene, Jesse has to grit his teeth and act like he's appreciative of their efforts. He knows she's avoiding his gaze and when the scene's complete and they break for five, he corners her quickly because they need to talk: he's not sure he can sit through two weeks of that.

"You're avoiding me," he informs her, taking her hand and leading her out the theatre to the car park behind.

"It's been less than 24 hours, Jesse and anyway, I've been at school. Speaking of which-"

"Don't change the subject." It's firm and authoritative and this is, she guesses, what Mercedes meant about Jesse running her life.

"Jesse, leave it."

"No, Rachel, I won't. You're not going to just use me like this."

"It's not nice, is it?" She says the words before she can stop herself and she knows she sounds like she's calculated this entire thing, but she hasn't. And she hopes to God he knows.

"Well, we're quits now." And with that, whatever he was planning to say to her is no longer important and he makes his way back inside. She doesn't follow; instead she takes a seat on a nearby wall and closes her eyes and tries to pretend that all this isn't happening. That she isn't in this goddamned play that's only going to be shown for two weeks, for fourteen nights, for eighteen stupid performances. That Jesse isn't back from UCLA for a three week break and that she hadn't gone to his room that night. Pretence has always been her favourite pastime and she usually can do it well. But this time, as she closes her eyes, she's swamped with images of Quinn and Mercedes, Jesse and Finn and Jimmy and everything she wants to forget.

She doesn't know what it is about Jesse that makes her act without thinking, like she's running on impulses but all the time. She takes pride in preparing her speeches and her songs and her future, and Jesse lifts her like a dandelion and just gently blows her off-course. So when he comes back out to find her because they're starting rehearsals and they kind of need the leading lady to be in said rehearsals, she gracefully manages to fall off the wall she was sitting on because she is never prepared for Jesse St. James. (She probably never will be.)

He rushes to hoist her back to her feet and she protests that she's fine, ignoring the blood dripping down her arm which she scraped down the bricks. He takes a tissue – It's clean, don't worry – and gently cleans her up. Her heart throws itself against her ribs as his fingers caress her arms and she's starting to remember just how magical his body makes hers feel.

He ties a stray bit of a material around the gash and smoothes it over gently, rearranging her hair so it looks a little less mussed up.

"I think you need to work on your balance." It's a friendly insult and she finds herself grinning inadvertently. He glances at the entrance back to the theatre and his smile widens. "We'd better get back in; Esmeralda's going to freak if we don't nail these rehearsals today."

"You're Jesse St. James, I though you nailed every rehearsal." Rachel's eyes are something else, Jesse's decided, because they speak more words than her mouth does (and that's saying something, because her mouth speaks a lot.)

"I wasn't referring to me," he informs her, a smug smile and nudge in the ribs accompanying it. "You could use a little work," he adds, whispering into her ear and pretending the blow she lands to his side doesn't hurt a bit. Apparently Rachel Berry is stronger than you might think. Jesse just grins and tugs her inside, where Esmeralda is close to tears (which would be a disaster given the amount of make up she's wearing.)

"Right then, guys and dolls," Jesse rolls his eyes and Rachel tries (and fails) to mask her laughter with coughing: Esmeralda's musical connotations are worse than Puck's taste in hair design. "From the top!"

-StB-

"I don't get you, Berry." Quinn's always been forthright with her opinions and in a way, Rachel's kind of glad. At least she knows where she stands with Quinn, a formality she struggles with, with most other people anyway. "Jesse broke your heart."

"I broke his too." Rachel hates admitting it because it's the one thing she thought she'd never do. Always the heartbroken, never the heartbreaker.

"You didn't." Quinn – whether she knows the truth or not – always sounds so certain, so right. "Because that would have involved him having a heart in the first place."

"Quinn, I know you're not one for grandeur and romance, but Jesse does have a heart."

"Yeah, a cold one." Quinn sighs, a tight smile on her face that Rachel can't quite decipher. It's not happiness or smugness; it's something else and Rachel simply cannot read it. "Look Berry, I'm not going to pretend that I want to understand why you're running back to that weasel, I just think you should be careful."

Rachel knows Quinn's probably only warning her because, try as she might, Quinn can't hide the fact that she enjoys glee club now and even more than that, she wants to win something too. (The trophy, some recognition, her reputation.) But somewhere deep down, Rachel would like to think Quinn's issuing these warnings because genuinely doesn't want Rachel to get hurt. But Rachel's wise enough to know that's probably not true.

"It's only two weeks," Rachel reminds Quinn (and herself), "And then I'll be back to bother you lot."

"I can't wait." The sarcasm that used to cut deep is now replaced with the slightest hint of humour and Quinn smirks, a gesture which Rachel mimics. Rachel excuses herself as it's time for her play rehearsal and Quinn watches her walk out the empty room. It's only in rooms like this (or the choir room occasionally) that Quinn will ever talk to Rachel, because anywhere else would involve being in public and being seen talking to the girl with the high notes, fast speech and unhealthy obsession with animal sweaters. And sure, Quinn's the girl who had a baby at sixteen with two dads but somehow, she's still higher than Rachel in the school's social hierarchy (and call her shallow, but she'd like to keep it that way.) She'll still look out for Rachel though and not only because Rachel's their biggest bet for winning (because although she'd deny it to her grave, Quinn's fed up of seeing Rachel get hurt. There's only so much heartache once girl can handle, even Rachel.)

-StB-

"Hey, sexy." It takes Rachel about three minutes to realise Jimmy is actually addressing her. Although she can't really call it addressing her – it's a derogatory drawl that falls from his lips with the aim of one thing and one thing alone.

"Jimmy, hi." She's arrived at rehearsal a little (well, 30 minutes) early and is patiently waiting in the car park for someone to arrive (preferably Jesse. Or Esmeralda. Or frankly anyone but Jimmy.)

"You cool?" Rachel never has understood the phrases that permeate the youth of today and she probably never will, unless maybe you sing it to her.

"I'm actually fairly warm, thank you. This jumper is more insulating than you'd think." Jimmy stares are her like she's not even speaking in coherent sentences. Rachel takes this pause to study Jimmy and she finds it hard to understand why on earth he'd be interested in any sort of theatre.

"Smoke?" He offers her a cigarette but quickly retracts upon the appalled look on her face. She quickly corrects herself, tugs (unnecessarily) down on her jumper and fakes a smile.

"I'm good, thanks. I don't smoke; it damages the vocal chords and –" She stops herself because Jimmy's giving her that look again, where he's not entirely sure he understands what she's saying. She watches him light up and edges away slowly (second hand smoke is just as dangerous and Rachel Berry takes no risks. Unless, perhaps, they're Jesse-shaped and vocally talented.)

Eventually Esmeralda turns up and Rachel heads straight to her dressing room because being in Jimmy's company is intoxicating (and that's not just from the smoke.) She sighs, straightens out her jumper (again) and heads back out for rehearsals. They have 4 more days to perfect it (and that's perfect it Rachel Berry style, not just learning all the words.) But that's apparently going to be more difficult than one would imagine.

Especially when your leading man does not turn up all evening.

-StB-

What worries Rachel most about Jesse not turning up to rehearsals is the fact that hardly any one makes a fuss. Which in turn means one of two things: they already knew he wasn't coming (and if that's the case, then why didn't she know?) or they don't value his input enough to care. Either way, it doesn't sit well with Rachel.

"Hello Rachel, are you with us?" Mr Schue's trying valiantly to get her attention and succeeds only by performing a discordant set of chords on the piano. It makes her (and Kurt) jump but he finally gets her to focus. He begins speaking but Rachel finds herself zoning out and wondering why she still hasn't heard from Jesse. It's only when she's surrounded by the rest of the girls that she realises she's been pondering that thought for over twenty minutes.

"Well?" Santana looks at her expectantly to which Rachel replies with the blankest of looks.

"Well what?" Rachel's eyes dart from one face to the next, a more bemused look on her face with each movement.

"Mr Schue's pitted us against the guys and we have to win." Santana doesn't do losing. "So tell us what song to sing, and me and Brit will make us all look as hot as hell."

"Did you know that the moon is actually hotter than hell?" Brittany's comments never cease to amaze anyone.

"Why do I have to choose the song? Mercedes can do just as good a job as me and besides, I might be busy."

"Well something's certainly on your mind because you didn't say a word all practice," Mercedes points out and Tina nods in agreement. "And for the record, this is a musical theatre mash up. Not exactly my speciality."

"Jesse didn't come to rehearsal yesterday." It's clear Rachel's preoccupied because she hasn't even twigged that their assignment is pretty much her dream come true.

"So? You should be glad, that jackass is totally not worth it. Even you could do better than him." It's an odd dynamic and Rachel doesn't know whether to take Santana's words as a compliment.

"Have you rang him?" Quinn – the voice of sensibility – thinks she can already guess the answer.

"No but –"

"Well then ring him. How else are you going to know?" She makes a valid claim but Rachel's reluctant to ring him in front of everyone else.

"Just do it, Berry. Like we'd want to listen into your warped conversations. Talk about vomit central." Santana's a talented liar, Rachel's discovered, because she's pretty sure they'll all listen in and then probably feed the entire conversation around the school. Over the tannoy. At lunch time.

"Maybe I'll just send him a text. It's not like we're dating, I don't need to speak with him or anything, just know why he wasn't there." She's trying to persuade herself as much as them, but it's failing.

"You said that before." Santana points out and Tina admits she has a point. "About not dating him when you actually were dating him."

"Well we are most definitely not in a relationship now." Rachel's trying to type out a message that is as neutral as possible, but Rachel's never done things by half.

"But do you want to be?" Quinn's question remains unanswered because Rachel's phone starts to ring; only it's her dads, not Jesse, who inform her they're waiting outside school to take her straight to rehearsal. She makes a fleeting farewell and escapes before she has to face another interrogation.

It seems Rachel's just as good at Jesse at evading people she doesn't want to speak to.