A/N: Thank you for reading my story and the responses!

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and its characters.

Chapter 9 – May 2012

Rachel Berry considered herself a born editor.

For one, she was a sun-bringer. See how sunny it had been in London. In London! Ever since when she joined The Musicraker, she had never gotten caught in the rain when doing outside photo shoots (okay, she had once or twice caught in the snow, to be honest).

And with her organizing freakness, she could get the London coverage done smoothly.

Well, except for a few 'scratches.'

The tiny space in the back of her head noticed that there was something wrong with Jesse. Sure, he had never missed taking part in the meetings before coming to London. Conversely, he had arrived late more than thirty minutes after the appointed time at the John F. Kennedy International Airport.

She hadn't unleashed her resentment on him, though he had been a nuisance to the other members of the August Issue teams (The Musicraker and Survêtement both), since they had had to quicken their feet to the boarding gate. It was not like their writers had always met the deadline or he had never been late on a date with her before.

The number two. He had made a slip of the tongue a few times, like wrong titles of films or songs called, when interviewing Danny Boyle, Guy Ritchie, Bruce Robinson, Shane Meadows and Mark Herman. Still, she had gotten him off the hook, since he had had to interview a lot of directors in a short period of time. She had immediately put a handout of their filmography on his knees for him to be able to amend, might she added.

And only one day, but one day, he had worn a heavier Eau de Cologne than usual, as if he had soaked in the perfume bathtub. Naturally, the other crew had pulled a face by it.

Meanwhile, she had recognized that he had had alcohol on his breath. Which reminded her that he had asked a flight attendant (five or six times, as far as she remembered) to bring some bottles of wine or Whiskey on a plane to London. However, she dismissed the idea, since the flight would arrive at Heathrow at night. They were supposed to go directly to the hotel and they wouldn't need to work on the rest of the night.

Anyway, other than those, she would say that the London coverage had been very successful. And today, they had finished the last photo shoot and all they should do was packing their bags and going to sleep.

Suddenly, fatigue had started taking its toll on Rachel. Too exhausted to sleep. She needed alcohol in her system. She dragged her feet over to the hotel bar and sank onto a high chair at the counter.

When she was about to order her third glass of Sauvignon Blanc, a female voice which she assumed was Mercedes' called her name. She saw her best friend rushing into her with a slightly panicked look on her face. "What's wrong?" Frowning, she asked.

"They've got into a punch-up!" Mercedes informed, panting, her hands on her knees. "Finn and Jesse!" She added as he saw Rachel wearing a confused look. "At a pub a few blocks away from here."

"W-why?" Rachel jumped out of the high chair. "How did that happen?"

"I don't know." Mercedes answered honestly as they got out of the hotel in a rush to come running to the pub where she guessed the boys sill were at. "I got a call from Artie when I was in my hotel room. He just told me to get you to come."

Still confused, but Rachel followed the other editor. "We're gonna have to figure it out then."

Finn had been annoyed as fuck with Jesse St. James.

Sure, a lot of the people working at The Musicraker had told Finn that he was a great writer. Yet, he had acted and sounded condescending all the way in London, especially when the photo shoots were going. As if he was better than anybody else.

To Rachel's credit, she endeavored to get the douche not to butt into the consultation about how the photos should be retouched between Finn, Mercedes, Artie, Jake, Joe (one of the digital crew) and her. Still, the Jackass kept throwing snide comments at him, like, the photographs he had taken were mediocre, or he couldn't fathom what the theme for the article would be, ignoring Rachel's defense.

Finn, laying himself aside, was quite puzzled as to what Rachel saw in Jesse.

And seriously, when would this guy stop shutting his big mouth? Finn rolled his eyes while Jesse, who was across at the table in the pub, went on and on as to how his glorious articles had gotten attention from the world. Look at the other boys at the same table, they got bored as well and hell. Without booze, he would be going to die.

When Finn gulped his seventh glass of blended malt whiskey and started thinking why he decided to have a night out with him of all people (even though with the other guys too) on the last day in London to begin with, Jesse decided to zero in on the photographer as a next subject.

"So, tell me why you were training your camera on Rachel when you thought she didn't notice, which I don't think she did either. You were doing a good job. Though I have to say that was a bit creepy."

Finn scrunched his nose at Jesse's comment. "I was just taking pictures of the behind-the-scene, not only Rachel." His voice deflated. Because he lied. He didn't take pictures of the other crew.

Jesse arched his eyebrow, looking like he didn't buy it. "Don't get me wrong, she's a great editor, smart and inspiring. But a model? She's not cut out for to be one, you know." He bluntly said, pushing his hair back self-consciously.

Finn furrowed as the other boys, Artie, Jake, and Joe exchanged a look with each other. "Why not? She's pretty." He mumbled.

"Oh, so you like her, don't you?" Jesse folded his arms across his chest.

Ignoring Jesse, Finn excused himself to the other boys as he stood up to be away from the douche as much as possible, and made his way to the bar counter. He gestured for a bartender to get him another glass of Bell's.

"Finn!"

Finn turned his head towards a male voice coming from behind. "Hey, Ryder. Where have you been?" When he was about to ask the bartender to bring the same booze for his photo assistant, Ryder cut him off.

"I-I'm," Ryder looked like on the verge of tears, "sorry, really sorry, Finn. I–"

"Whoa, calm down." Finn put his hand on the assistant's shoulder. "Why are you apologizing?"

"I-I might have broken your equipment." Ryder blurted out with tears.

"Y-you what?" Finn gasped. "Are you sure?"

Ryder squeezed his eyes shut before letting out a deep breath. Then he began to explain what had happened when he had removed the equipment from a photo studio after the last photo shoot. "I thought it was okay at that time, which obviously wasn't." He drooped with disappointment before speaking in a snuffle from tears. "I'm so sorry, Finn. I-I'll pay for it out."

Finn felt his blood boiling. He beckoned the bartender to get him another shot before gulping it down. "That was absolutely not your fault, Ryder." With that, he strode towards the table where Jesse and the other guys still were sitting at.

When he stopped in front of the douche, he gave him a fierce look and said in a low voice. "I have a few words with you."

Jesse narrowed his eyes. "Well, I don't." He brushed Finn off and continued having his drink.

Finn ran out of patience. He threw the glass off from Jesse's hand before grabbing him by the collar. "You wanna step outside?"

"What a savage." Jesse attempted to tear Finn's hand away from his shirt, but Finn started dragging the curly haired man to the outside of the pub.

While Jake and Joe, who had been taken aback a little between Finn and Jesse, jumped out of their chairs and tried to separate the two from each other as flustered Rider froze at the place, Artie pulled his cell phone out of his pocket to reach for Rachel. "Damn it!" Rachel didn't answer her phone. So, he tried to call Mercedes.

"Get Rachel!" Artie yelled once Mercedes answered. "They've got into a fight!"

"Why don't you take care of him?" A dozen glasses of Whiskey were finally getting to him, Finn blurted out, before wincing by feeling the coldness of the ice pack which Rachel did gently put on his right hand.

Rachel let out a sigh. "He can write with a swollen face, or a broken nose, but you can't hold your camera with this." She lifted his bruised hand a little.

"Otherwise you can't get what you need." Finn didn't mean that. But he still was pissed at Jesse St. Jackass.

"Don't be a jerk, Finn, you know what I mean." Rachel alarmed. "Yes, The Musicraker couldn't be published without a photographer, which means you are important for us." She shook her head and parked herself on the couch beside Finn in Finn's hotel room, his right hand still in her hands. "But your hands are not just your livelihood. These are like alternative to your words. I mean, taking pictures is not only for the sake of money, right?"

Finn closed his eyes, trying his hardest to suppress his urges to hold her tight and kiss her like crazy, but just enjoying the feeling of Rachel's warm tiny hands on his right hand, while she spoke.

When she stopped talking, he slowly opened his eyes and bored into her big chocolate colored eyes as he squeezed her hands with his left hand.

Rachel couldn't tear her eyes off of his. She felt her heart violently beat fast. No, Rahel, don't let your feelings take control! She cleared her throat. "I've got to go."

"Don't go." Finn slurred, opening his eyes and grabbing her wrist with his unbruised hand as she was about to get out of the couch. "Stay."

"Finn, I can't." Rachel attempted to brush his hand off from her.

"I'll behave." Finn pleaded as he gripped his hold of her tight before pulling her closer to him.

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut. Those puppy dog eyes! That was unfair! She shook her head before taking a deep breath. "Fine. Until you fall asleep."

"That's all I ask." Having put the ice pack on the coffee table, Finn gently led her to the bed before placing her and himself on it. "Good night, Rach."

"Good night, Finn."

Finn was dreaming. About Rachel. He deeply inhaled the smell of her as he hugged the long pillow shaped a tiny figure like Rachel from behind. He idly ran his fingers around the middle of it, which was pleasant to the touch. He unconsciously slid his hand between the pillowcase and the body.

Hmm. This was nice. As if it were Rachel's smooth skin. His hand traveled to the north until they met two small soft protuberances. He half-opened his eyes and found the pillow really look-alike Rachel, which gave him a boner.

"Finn, we can't."

"Yes, we can."

This dream was so fucking real. The pillow, which looked like Rachel, spoke. Honestly, he had waited this for a long time. If he couldn't be with her right away, he wanted this even if in his dream. He slowly peeled away the fabric covered the pillow and touched its small mound with a hand.

He tilted his head up to see her face, pleading for her to let him continue. She nodded with a sheepish smile before he captured the top of the mound with his mouth and rolled it with his tongue. He heard a moan, which encouraged him to navigate his hand towards her wet fold, his lips to her neck, her mouth, and the underneath of her ear as her hands unbuttoned his shirt, then unbuckled his belt.

Once she undid his shirt and his belt, he yanked his jeans down and took his socks off. He positioned his large frame between her legs as he hooked his fingers on the thin string of her undergarment. He lifted her legs up and pulled them off before dropping his mouth on her calf then her thigh.

When his lips finally reached her center, he heard a whimper from her mouth. Her finger threaded through his hair while he tasted her. Fuck. He needed to be inside her right now. He abruptly pulled himself from her before rummaging a condom in his wallet in the back of his jeans. He rolled it down his shaft once he grabbed the plastic packet and ripped it off. Then finally, finally he slid himself inside her.

He pushed her bang aside from her forehead and kissed all over her face while gently thrusting in and out. Her calling his name got him harder he had never been before. He guided her legs to hug his neck, which cause him to get deeper penetration and her walls started clenching around him. He slid his hand between them and rubbed her clit to spur her on to coming for him.

And she came.

And he came right after she did.

He panted and buried his face in her neck before something warm and wet falling on his cheek. He lifted his face up to see her face, only to find her eyes watering.

"Oh, baby, don't cry." Finn wiped beneath her eyes with a thumb. "Please, don't cry." He gently planted his lips on her cheeks and her lips. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."

He spooned her tightly from behind and drifted off, inhaling the smell of strawberry.

"What do you mean that he's checked out?" Rachel asked, leaning forward the front desk.

"Mr. St. James has checked out earlier this morning." The desk clerk repeated in a businesslike manner.

"B-but, what time exactly did he leave?" Rachel held her head in her hands before turning it around to the other senior editor of The Musicraker. "Mer, would you please try to call him?" Then she turned to the clerk. "May I look around the room where St. James stayed?"

"Sure, Ms. Berry." The clerk handed the room key out to her.

"Kitty, come with me. Guys, please wait here." Rachel turned to her other best friend. "Tina, you guys can go ahead to the airport. We'll catch up later." With that, she and her editorial assistant headed for the room on the 6th floor.

Rachel remembered the day she had gotten a call from her daddy, Hiram Berry, breaking down. She thought back now, there had been some first hint of the symptom her dad, Leroy, had shown when she had been back to her parents' house in New Jersey during Hanukah three years before.

Rachel, Hiram and even Leroy, however, had ignored them. More precisely, Leroy had dismissed off his significant other's and their only child's concern, claiming he had been just too busy and tired with his work. Sure, the hint had been nothing but a blink and his body function had immediately returned to normal. So, Hiram and Rachel bit their tongues, holding their bad feelings back.

It turned out that Leroy had had a minor stroke at that time. Three months later from the day the very first symptom had surfaced, he had had a bigger fit. There had been no mending. He had just been gone. At the age of 55.

Sometimes Hiram had found an outlet in the name of anger at himself and Leroy for all his sorrow. He might have blamed Rachel for Leroy's death too. She couldn't censure it for him, though. Because you could easily imagine how hard Hiram had beat himself up, how deep his grief had hit him.

But this?

This was all her fault.

The one who should be blamed first was Jesse St. James. She knew. But if he would be nowhere to be found in any minute, she should be the one to be blamed. That was why she was summoned to be in 10 minutes at the largest meeting room of the company on the 14th floor where normally only the stakeholders and the board members used.

Rachel took a deep breath before pushing the heavy oak door open.

A/N: Rachel's got in trouble :(

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