Chapter 2

Fool to Believe

The streets of New York City echoed with the voices of honking car horns caught in morning traffic, the incoherent shouting from venders trying to sell their merchandise, and the lonely footsteps of Jesse St James, who kept a steady beat in the background of the city's song. As he made his way down the busy sidewalk, the early morning sun burned his eyes, despite the black aviators he wore, and the crisp September air nipped at his bare cheeks causing them to redden slightly. He was yet to feel the cold fully, the lack of sleep numbing him to the elements, but when Jesse rounded the street corner, he instinctively pulled the collar of his jean jacket up higher, wrapped his arms around his chest and ducked his head down to protect himself. The cold, however, slowly seeped through the thick denim sleeves, finally sending a chill to his bones, and he quickened his pace, continuing his march to the one place that roused his senses: the stage.

Each time the curtains were pulled open and the attention of the audience fixated upon him, Jesse awoke, arising from the ashes of his broken self and igniting into a new person: the role he played. He immersed himself within his craft, refining even the most insignificant aspects of his assigned character, and delivering flawless rendition after flawless rendition. The different personalities he morphed into, and ultimately acting itself, had become not only his passion, but his entire life. The theatre was everything he lived for. It was the reason he got out of bed, the reason he left his apartment every morning, and as he glanced up at the theatre before him, he knew it was what he would be known for.

I have to be known for it, Jesse thought as he pushed through the heavy black doors that led into the lobby, breathing in the smell of success that lingered in the air. Many shows had started off in the Cannon Theatre prior to making their debut on the Great White Way and Jesse knew he was lucky to have his chance to perform on the same stage.

He often dreamed that his show would follow in the footsteps of the successful productions that had come before it and in turn he would then follow in the footsteps of the successful actors that came before him. Jesse prayed that everything he worked for, and everything he had given up, would be worth it once he was on Broadway, but as he took a breath, trying to inhale all the talent that passed through the room and absorbing it within his own skills, he knew he was fooling himself.

Letting out a sigh and pushing his regrets from the forefront of his mind, he crossed the lobby to enter the auditorium. It was not the first time Jesse walked through those doors. He had been working with director Arthur Hamel and his assistant for two months now and the three of them spent all of their time working on a revival of Moulin Rouge!; perfecting each scene, each song, and each line until each cast member was out of breath and overworked. They had worked themselves to exhaustion, and the female lead was yet to be cast, but every time Jesse took sight of the stage before him, despite the fatigue that drenched his muscles, he was awestruck and ready for more.

The soft light reflected gently off the chandelier crystals. The dark mahogany, carved with intricate designs, complimented the red velvet seats basking in the glow. The matching velvet curtains pulled back to allow a view of the small world he would become a part of; each second that passed as Jesse stood in this presence, he felt the adrenaline rushing through his veins. This moment was the only time where Jesse felt like his true self again.

With the sudden energy boost coursing through him, he allowed himself to forget of the guilt that racked his body and mind. He lost himself within the depths of his psyche, allowing the feelings of his memories to brush against his fingertips. He was wrapped in a daydream like bliss, slowly being drawn in by the temptress that lingered within his thoughts. This was the moment he felt his heart swell once more, and even if it was just for a split second, it felt like an eternity had been granted to him. Rachel, Jesse's mind sighed as his eyelids fluttered closed and he drew in a breath. This was the moment he felt his love with him once again.

Her dark locks intertwined within Jesse's fingers, her breath was warm against his chest as it kept in soft time to his heartbeat. He almost let out a moan of pleasure as he felt her heat within his arms, her face nuzzling against him while she remained deeply buried in his embrace. Her soft lips melted against his, the sugary taste of her kiss drenching his palate, before peppering his neck with the same sweetness.

"You're going to be amazing one day, Jesse." The words she told him long ago still sang through his thoughts so vividly, and her scent suddenly lingered within the surrounding air. He deeply inhaled the smell of her vanilla strawberry shampoo, while her melodic voice continued to whisper the reassurances, vibrating against his skin, telling him what he needed to go on. His hands roamed down her sides, feeling her curves beneath his palms, before wrapping around her lower back and pulling her closer. Soft raven hair tickled his face as she began making her way up to his earlobe, nibbling and sucking on the one spot that drove him wild.

"You're late, St. James." A familiar voice echoed, startling him out of his thoughts. Jesse's eyes, however, remained tightly shut; he refused to let this moment slip away. He desperately tried to remain within the Eden he had created, holding onto the ecstasy which manifested around him, and struggling to keep the woman he had memorized within his arms. "Jesse?" the voice boomed off the walls, coming from the director's table that sat a few rows from the stage. It rattled against his eardrums and he let out a hushed groan as the memories, which were burned into his mind, slowly faded into the surrounding reality.

"Until next morning my love," his voice was no louder than a whisper, before he reluctantly opened his eyes, awaking from his daydream. He glanced down the rows of chairs to meet the gaze of the director's assistant, who had begun to grow impatient. Her long light brown hair was tied into a bun and she stood with her hand on her hip, tapping her foot repeatedly against the deep red carpet that adorned the floor of the theatre. Her other hand held onto a large stack of papers that were enclosed within a cardboard folder. She kept a tight grasp on the folder, and Jesse let a small smirk slide across his lips knowing the reason of her unusual impatience.

"Not by my watch, Rylie," his retort was sharp, and he began marching down the path to meet her by the stage before giving her another of his trademark smirks. It was an arrogant grin he had perfected during his high school years; the same smirk that the ladies swooned over. It was the smile he longed to give to Rachel once more, knowing how she reacted to it. It turned her on in a way that could only be described as intense, but he knew it would not have the same affect on her anymore. His arrogant charm was tainted, and in turn so did his smirk. Jesse just had to settle for delivering it to the only other woman whom he cared about, Rylie Graham.

"You are thirty-six seconds late, whether you want to admit it or not," Rylie teased and pointed to her watch. When Jesse's brow furrowed, his eyes filling with a sting of disappointment, a smirk of her own flashed across Rylie's lips, one that rivalled his in both arrogance and confidence. She maddened Jesse with her egotism and at the same time, intrigued him immensely.

Jesse shook his head and stifled a laugh, quickly brushing past her while ducking his head to avoid meeting her gaze. She had been able to see through his layers so well that with only one look, Rylie instantly knew when he was lying, or acting, it was one of the reasons they had bonded so quickly, and the same reason he had to get away from her. She was able to find Jesse, the real Jesse, the broken Jesse, which sent a slight anger through his veins despite her comfort afterwards. He had worked on his 'show-face' for so many years, and with one look, Rylie destroyed it; only his love had also had that ability, and that was a similarity which interested him.

"Oh, ha ha, you are so funny," he called over his shoulder and made his way towards the backstage area. The brunette's hurried footsteps were heard through the hallway as she followed him around the corner; each step echoed loudly off the dark hardwood floor in her rush. He was in front of his dressing room door when she finally made it to him, her approach far from subtle as she called out loudly.

"Jesse wait—" but he interrupted Rylie before she had a chance to finish her sentence. He turned to face her, his hand still lingering over the door handle, and his voice filled with urgency.

"If we keep talking I really am going to be late. I have a costume fitting before rehearsal, Ry." His morning daydream was something he would rather not discuss with Rylie, so he opted to mimic her previous actions, in hopes that teasing would draw her away from the subject. He placed his other hand on his hip and tapped his foot impatiently, knowing that Rylie would be fully aware of his mockery, and she shot a hard glare at him.

"Look," Rylie paused, taking in a deep breath, and the serious dramatics of her actions earned her the softening of Jesse's exterior shell, "I've been trying to get Arthur to look at my script, and he is just so busy with his work."

He immediately unlocked the dressing room door and entered, gesturing for her to follow him inside. Jesse knew the magnitude of the discussion they were about to have, at least to her. A discussion of Rylie's ambitions for her future career would preferably be done in a more private setting.

Rylie hesitated for a moment before she followed him inside and took the seat in the empty chair next to the entrance. Jesse peeled off his jacket and hung it on the hook behind the door, before nodding for her to continue. "There are a few scenes that are just not perfect," her voice trembled with an obvious nervousness as she attempted to pick the precise words that would gain his assistance. "I know you know your stuff, so can you please look at one of my scenes? I guess you would say I need a male lead's opinion."

The two had formed an interesting friendship, getting close to one another through teasing and harmless insults which were often soothed with words of wisdom and underhanded compliments. Although Rylie had never asked his advice until now, she had discussed her play with Jesse daily; the very script that she had claimed, on more than one occasion, would 'skyrocket her to success, and Tony's'. Jesse would never admit it aloud but he knew that was an enviable conclusion for Rylie. She was born for success, of that he was sure.

Rylie may have been one of the most infuriating writers he had ever met, but talent seeped from her every pore, almost mimicking his own. He could smell it as it radiated off her, which assisted him in gaining the utmost respect for the woman. Despite being in a different field of theatre, Jesse envied her keen eye for detail within any production she had witnessed, or participated in; it was a keen eye that had come in handy during the deconstruction and reconstruction of "Moulin Rouge!" and she not only had a talent for writing and production; she had a talent in performing as well. Rylie had a massive knowledge of music theory and she could play almost every instrument she picked up. The lyrics she wrote accompanied her music so perfectly, and her voice was truly incredible, but in no way comparable to Rachel's.

"Sure," Jesse winked as he stepped behind the partition to change. Rylie let out a sigh of relief, her nerves suddenly dissipating. He understood how desperate she was for an opinion on her piece and was glad that she would ask someone with actual talent to glance at it. Her relief, however, soon changed to annoyance as Jesse spoke again with amusement. "But since I am lacking in time with all the work I have to do," She rolled her eyes at his teasing, "You have to do something for me?"

"I am not fulfilling any sexual fantasies, Jesse."

"None whatsoever?" He laughed and she huffed at his question. Jesse could not resist taunting her; he loved to see her squirm a little, just as she loved to torture him mercifully. It was the dynamics of their friendship, and Jesse had to have some fun here and there with it. "You have to admit I am superior in talent first." He glanced out the side of the partition as he gave Rylie his demand, watching her face morph from annoyed to horrified, in what seemed like a split second.

"No. I'd rather die." She rose from her seat, arms crossed over her chest, her script still firmly in her hand, as she attempted to storm out dramatically.

"Do it, or no help." He expected steam to start whistling out of her ears as stopped mid-step after he had called out of her. Jesse could almost see the anger starting to bubble within her belly. It was the same anger that had gotten her into many heated arguments, that both of them would have rather avoided. It was the same rage that had resulted with Jesse getting a black eye in an attempt to protect the opinionated woman from a burly biker she had accused of driving 'the worst motorcycle known to man.' It was an anger that however much Jesse teased, he never achieved to have inflicted upon him, until now.

"You are impossible, you know that!" she hollered as he stepped out, dressed as Christian, the clothes hanging far too loosely. Jesse was so wrapped up in his own shame of irritating one of his closest friends that he missed the amusement which danced in her eyes.

"Alright, alright" His arms were raised in surrender as his eyes met with the brunette's and he finally noticed the rage that had burned within the girl eased by his attempts of apology. "I'll help without praise. I hate to see you get all squeaky."

"Thanks, Jesse," she said sheepishly, taking her seat once again.

"What's with you?" He asked calming, running a hand through his curls; it was so unlike her to be submissive when it came to their banter. Rylie never missed an opportunity to argue with Jesse, since he was her favourite person to bicker with. Her sudden surrender confused Jesse to no end, and he was starting to worry about the woman before him.

"I have no idea what you are talking about. I'm perfectly fine." Rylie said in an attempt to keep a mask of anger up and avoid Jesse's question. She had mastered the art of avoiding. She avoided her obvious feelings for Arthur Hammel, both the director of the production, and her boss. She avoided discussions about her script, but now her facade, however impressive it was, was one that Jesse saw through, making her evasion futile.

"Rylie, you'd never give up the chance to argue, and me calling you 'squeaky,' would definitely earn some sort of impressive comeback." Rylie's gaze met his, "It's the best part of working with you, and now you're ruining that." Jesse grabbed his makeup chair out from under the table and took a seat facing her.

"I just had a rough morning." She sighed in defeat as his eyes narrowed, skeptical on her excuse. "Look, I got woken up at six a.m. to the sound of a hysterical drama queen. I'm just tired, and stressed about this production." She spoke in a rush, and Jesse nodded in understanding. There was obviously more to the phone call, but he knew what it felt like to go without sleep. With that in mind, Jesse began to feel terrible for irritating Rylie that morning, especially with a sensitive topic such as her script.

"Need help with the female lead too?" he offered, and successfully changed the topic to lighter subject matter. "Seeing as the play hasn't got one for you to pester yet, I would only assume you want my expertise on the other parts in your script." She finally let a full blown laugh escape her lips at his remark, and his smile grew with delight, knowing that his teasing had brightened her day.

Jesse hated seeing Rylie upset. She had become the only female who he managed to remain good friends with, and he looked upon her as if she was his family. Rylie was the only woman, other than Rachel, who ever truly cared about him. Normally women only spoke to him with the hopes that their brief discussion would magically morph into an intimate relationship, but Rylie was different. She had become a confidante of his, and that relationship blossomed into a strange, yet beautiful friendship.

"No, I'm gonna ask Rachel," Jesse's eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope that Rylie had thankfully missed. Rachel, God I miss you. He allowed his mind to focus on every word that left Rylie's mouth about this 'Rachel.'

"A friend of mine," she added before walking over to the bar fridge on the opposite side of the dressing room. She pulled the miniature door open, and grabbed two bottles of water from inside, tossing one over to Jesse. The moment Rylie said her name Jesse had to know as much as he could.

"Oh, is she a female lead?" he asked casually before taking a sip of the water, hoping the answer was yes. He knew that the chance of Rylie's Rachel being his Rachel was slim to none, but his curiosity still took over every natural instinct.

"The best I know." That was what put him over the edge. 'The best.' Rachel was the best, and with Rylie's eye for theatre being on par, if not higher, than Jesse's, he knew that 'the best' had to be her. "She'll be cast as the lead once this thing hits Broadway," Rylie's voice was laced with pride, and Jesse excitement reached a whole new level.

"If it ever does." He laughed, and she hit him playfully with the stack of papers.

"What if it's not her?" Jesse nearly groaned out load as his mind snapped him back to sensible logic. "How many Rachels are there in New York?" the voice continued, his negative train of thought acting like a pin and destroying his balloon of optimism with a loud mental BANG.

"That one wasn't nice. Do you want me to put in a word to Arthur about cutting some of your lines, Christian?" Rylie threatened, while she pointed to his outfit, and his eyes widened in shock. "I can. I will. And you know it. I am very vengeful." Jesse immediately began begging for forgiveness, literally dropping to his knees and grabbing hold of her ankles.

"I'm sorry your masterpiece will see the light of stage. That I'm sure of."

"As am I," she said smugly trying to kick Jesse off her feet. Her attempt proved useless, since his arms were wrapped around Rylie's legs so tightly that she could hardly move.

"You're sorry? Really, that is so unlike you." The sarcasm dripped off his tongue and a shy smile graced her lips.

"No, and for God's sake, get off the floor, Jesse, grovelling is really not becoming on you." Rylie tugged on his far from fitted suit jacket and he slowly got off the ground and took his seat. "I'm sure that my masterpiece will see Broadway," Her voicing trickled with confidence as she corrected him.

"Well, it's inevitable," he mumbled under his breath, as he nervously ran a hand through his golden curls. Rylie let a gasp filling the silence. She clutched her chest in surprise before her face beamed and her lips curved upward into a small smile and Jesse could not help but notice the difference between her and Rachel at that moment. When he had told Rachel that for her, Broadway was an inevitability, a smile graced her lips, her large voice suddenly went missing, and she basked in the compliment. Rylie, on the other hand, was far more comical with her response.

"I am also sure you say that to all the ladies." She laughed and he stiffened at her words. Did Rach come to the same conclusion that Rylie just had?

"No, actually," he corrected defensively, and Rylie raised a questioning eyebrow at him causing Jesse to lower his voice. He glanced down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting and picking at one another. "I've only said it to one other person."

"Who?" Her face filled with excitement and interest. She had never seen Jesse with anyone before. The idea of someone winning Jesse's heart filled her with an evident interest, and she knew that it was someone who held meaning in his life.

"It's not important," he contradicted the obvious, rising from his seat and glancing in the mirror. He wanted to avoid looking at the fascinated girl next to him. In instances such as these, every time he was under her gaze Jesse felt like a college science experiment being dissected under Ms. Graham's watchful eye.

"Jesse, who?" she begged, and received a glare in response. "Is it a guy?" she questioned further and Jesse threw his water bottle at her. She sat in silence for a few passing seconds when she lit up with a solution. "Your part is on the line, Jesse," Rylie sang in a singsong melody and tapped her fingers against the folder which sat comfortably on her lap.

"Rachel Berry," he sighed out and shifted his attention back to Rylie, whose jaw literally dropped. "She's a girl I knew from Ohio," he explained a little further.

"Um I... hmm..." She paused, her stammering captivating Jesse even further. Jesse's eyes locked on her when she began stumbling over her words, something that Rylie never did. "Nothing, I think, well maybe not." She finally spoke with a little more coherency, the anxiety getting the best of her vocal abilities, and her eyes filled with a fear that Jesse had seen once before.

"Rylie, what is going on? I know that look." It was the same look she got when she tried to speak to Arthur Hammel about anything other than the production. Rylie Graham is nervous, Jesse thought, and would have smirked along with the thought if she was not nervous over something related to Rachel Berry.

"She's Rachel, my Rachel." At this, Jesse nearly went catatonic with happiness. I have a link to her, was all he could think. He could find out about her, how she was, what plays she performed in. He had a bond to all of that, and Rylie was that key element in the chain. He nearly jumped for joy, until Rylie spoke once more, "Oh my god, you are HER Jesse. You are the evil spineless dick aren't you, egg man." Jesse winced at the mention of his past, but he recovered quickly, thoughts of Rachel overpowering every aspect of his brain. He was not going to lose this connection; no way in hell was he going to let that happen.

"How do you know Rachel?" pressing the subject further and Jesse still did not move from his spot opposite Rylie, who was in a full on panicked frenzy. His stomach began to bubble with a similar feeling. Whatever had Rylie all stirred up seemed to be contagious.

"Does it matter!" she yelled as she jumped from her chair, instantly becoming eye level with him. Jesse could see the gears turning in Rylie's mind; she was sizing him up, measuring whether he would do more harm. By her previous comment he was sure that she knew his history with Rachel, but his future with Rachel was in Rylie's hands now.

"Yes, just tell me, Rylie." His eyes pleaded with her, but she was yet to speak. "Please, you know I'm not that evil to not have done anything without a purpose." It seemed that Rylie did not even process what Jesse had said, because she immediately continued vocalizing her inner ramblings.

"Oh Jesse, I cannot believe I did this to her, I didn't know I swear." She began to pace hurriedly and Jesse could not even focus on what she had said after the first ten seconds of nonstop ramblings. She was going to wear a hole in the hardwood, and her movements were starting to make him dizzy.

"What, Rylie!" He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her back into sense, as he yelled, and she stared at him blankly. "What did you do and what does this have to do with Rachel Berry?"

"She was my college roommate, and she is my best friend." Jesse let go of her shoulders, his hands falling to his sides, and Rylie collapsed into the chair by the door once again. Her head dropped into her hands, but Jesse's focus remained on her; he could not miss a word of what Rylie was about to say. "She's the Satine I have been raving about," she muttered out, barely audible, but Jesse heard it.

Suddenly all the pieces of the panicked jigsaw puzzle clicked into perfect place, Satine? Jesse thought as he slowly figured it all out. He was not only going to have a link to her, he was going to be working with her. Rachel freaking Berry was coming to his theatre. He was going to hold her again. Every night he was going to kiss her, and begin to make love to her, even if it was just in character.

"She's coming to audition." It was not a question, but Rylie responded with a nod, and Jesse collapsed into his seat, his shocked stare never wavering from hers. They both sat in silence, both astonished for what seemed to be hours before Rylie's eyes lit up with a sparkle of brilliance that Jesse had seen before.

It was the same look she got when she was inspired to write a new scene, or had discovered a new way to portray the blocking. She had an idea, and from what it seemed it was the best idea she could have ever thought of. Jesse's stomach turned at the thought of it involving both he and Rachel. An idea of bringing two star-crossed lovers falling back into each other's lives, restoring happiness and love to both Rachel and Jesse's hearts, would only lead to something dangerous. She glanced over at Jesse, who sat with a dumbfounded look upon his face, as he ran his hand through his hair nervously, and smiled softly.

Rylie knew what kind of man Jesse had become, and he was sure she knew the emotion underneath his "show-face" was sincere and honest love. Love for Rachel Berry, the one friend who Rylie had not spoken of. Or had she?

His mind traveled over their conversations, his thoughts running through his head a mile a second as he remembered every word spoke between them. He prayed that Rachel was not the friend Rylie hoped would overcome the misery that surrounded her. Jesse only wanted better things for Rachel. A greater type of happiness than him was the reason he had left in the first place. Had he known that Rachel would be in misery the rest of her life, he would have stayed and ensured that she achieved her dreams, and did not let that "dingus of a man push her around all the time." Rylie's voice echoed in his mind as he recalled the last conversation they spoke of regarding the friend she worried about the most.

Rylie let out a sigh before arising. She grabbed her script, which had fallen on the floor during the panic, and gingerly placed it on the table of Jesse's dressing room. Taking one last look around the room, Rylie began walking towards the exit, the smile that formed on her lips still dazzling her face.

"You better not hurt her again, Jesse," she called from over her shoulder before heading down the hall to meet Arthur. Jesse was left alone in the empty room to ponder over what she said; praying that whatever she had planned would not send them into a downward spiral of disaster. His head finally dropped within his hands, his costume fitting forgotten, and his love taking over the forefront of his mind.

That was the first time Jesse was late for anything.

DISCLAIMER:

I do not own glee, or Moulin Rouge. I just own the plot, Rylie Graham and Arthur Hammel.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I am so sorry it took so long, but as you can tell it was worth it (by the length alone).

I wanted to give you guys some Jesse, and next chapter will have both Rachel and Jesse! yay! unfortunately they are not in the same scene yet *sad face*

I am sorry for the long times in between updates, but I am trying to make each chapter absolutely perfect, because I feel that is what St. Berry deserves. It is also why there is such immense detail, but I do feel that the detail it is slowing the pace down a bit, so next chapter I promise there won't be as much.

Anyway, Let me know what you guys think, I love to hear your opinions on this story, since they help me write. Reviews inspire me :D.

Also please check out Common Ground by Gottabeelove. I am her Beta and I wrote a scene in the last chapter, which should be up soon if not already.

AN IMPORTANT NOTE:

I have adopted a story called the Power of Music by The Heartless Harlot. It is another St. Berry fic, so please check that out when I post my chapter. I promise it won't interfere with this story.