Getting It Right

by BruisedSmile

Jesse St. James was never one to walk away from a challenge. Season Three with a St. Berry twist. Also features Klaine, Brittana and St. Fabray.

10. Going Off Script

Getting It Right – Going Off Script

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Jesse had given up trying to concentrate about ten minutes ago and resorted to mapping out a geometric maze over the corner of his notepad. Not his finest work perhaps, he conceded as he pulled back with a long stretch, but it was the best he was going to manage in this unsupervised kindergarten.

A loud burst of laughter cut through the boisterous chatter and drew his attention over his shoulder, where some of the boys of New Directions were gathered around one of their phones, watching something he would wager would garner them a swift detention if any authority figures happened to pass by. Fortunately for them however, their teacher was taking his sweet ass time in showing up today, so they could indulge at their leisure. Jesse didn't miss the longing look Finn cast towards the male huddle at the back of the choir room, but his participation in the debauchery was stayed by the arm that was firmly wrapped around his, demanding his presence as well as his attention stayed with the girl beside him.

The musical chime of her voice was unmistakable even amongst the surrounding raucous of the classroom, as bright and clear and commanding as ever. The background scenery fell away into insignificance, eclipsed by a familiar tunnel vision as Jesse furtively drew his hungry eyes over her figure once again. In the space of a heartbeat he retraced every quirk of her form and movements: how she shifted in her seat with restless energy and anticipation, the way her lips parted in a laugh and moved in an eager stream of words that her boyfriend barely responded to; the curves of her sweater and hem of her skirt, the shape of her thigh and cross of her legs.

It had been a long ten days.

She had cut her hair over the winter break he noticed idly. Her fringe was gone and it was more like the style it had been when they had first met, the sleek black locks falling loose around her shoulders as usual. Between that and the familiar navy knee socks she wore (that made him think of rain soaked black stockings for some reason), the sense of deja vu was downright uncomfortable. If he squinted, for the smallest second, he could almost convince himself he had fallen into one of his more pleasant memories.

Except it wasn't his hand she was grasping; it wasn't his side she was leaning into; it wasn't his face her eyes were fixed on. Not any more.

Jesse felt his gaze lingering and reluctantly forced it away, suppressing the frustration with fresh resolve. He didn't know whether to be grateful or not for the distraction when Blaine chose that moment to join Mike on the floor beside the piano, both boys attempting to bop around to the discordant sounds of the band tuning their instruments next to them. Kurt clapped encouragingly, Tina laughed, and Jesse seriously debated whether he could get away with barging into the staff room and dragging Schuester out by his skinny tie and elbow patches.

Shaking his head to himself, he flipped the page on his notebook and frowned down at the blank page that stared back at him.

Unwritten.

He let out a breath. The future never used to be daunting, never used to be unknown and uncertain – and he refused to abide it any longer. It was time to take control again. Jesse St. James may dream just as fiercely as his counterpart, but he was also pragmatic and hardened by experience. As wretched as Christmas had been, perhaps the hiatus had been necessary. He had used the enforced time and space to regroup, to pay some overdue consideration to his long term plans, and had come back determined to throw himself into the work required to get there. This wasn't just her final year in Ohio after all.

"Finn, give me a drum roll!"

Everyone turned their attention to the doorway, the excited chatter only intensifying as their scattershot teacher finally deigned to make his entrance, without a hint of contrition or explanation for his tardiness. Not that Jesse could really reprimand such selfish behaviour himself – but still. He watched with a familiar sense of dismay as Schuester bounded over to his beloved whiteboard to scrawl his pearl of wisdom for the week, accompanied dutifully by Finn's enthusiastic drumming.

"Yes, I'm asking Miss Pillsbury to marry me!"

Well, that was an interesting way to start the first practice of the new term. Not with a reflection on Sectionals or even a plan of action for Regionals, but with a personal ego project.

"This is the kind of news you share with your family, and you guys are my family."

Jesse raised his eyebrows in open incredulity as Will continued to gush to a chorus of 'awws' from his ever obedient children. Seriously? Did this man have no life outside this choir room? No adult friends? No actual family? Why did he think they would even care about any of this? Except, judging by the enthused response around him, they evidently did (or they had simply learnt it was easier to pretend they did). Jesse groaned under his breath, already feeling a headache starting to encroach at the thought of what he would have to endure for this week's themed musical assignment.

"We're so happy for you Mr. Schue."

"That's brilliant!"

"We totally don't think you'll screw it up this time."

A smile twitched his lips at the sarcastic mutter, uttered in that familiar bored drawl and almost lost under the cheerleading of her teammates. At least he wasn't alone in his distaste. He almost looked around but was distracted by the volley of questionable artistic suggestions that started to fly over his head.

"Anything by Celine Dion or Ed Sheeran would be perfect!"

"Nah, gotta have a bit of attitude. Van Halen or Stone Roses or Poison would be better – "

"It's meant to be romantic, Puck!"

"Can't go wrong with classic Whitney, I reckon."

"Or Rihanna or Beyoncé if you want something more contemporary."

"Bieber has some good songs –"

"No he doesn't. Aerosmith on the other hand – "

"Journey again? I mean it's practically your theme tune at this point..."

"Oh! Oh! Taylor Swift!"

Jesse could see this entire session (not to mention his sanity) descending into a hot mess of inane wedding planning if this didn't end soon. Was this really how they wanted to waste their precious time? Maybe New Directions was secretly a commune of unpaid creative interns, one that existed solely to prop up their leader's chronic lack of imagination. As Kurt mentioned something about glitter bombing doves and white tuxedos, Jesse rolled his eyes so hard it almost hurt. For fuck's sake. Being forcibly recruited into Schuester's matrimonial wet dream was not what he'd signed up for.

Rachel almost felt sorry for their consultant as she saw him slouch a little lower in his chair and cross his arms in a manner that warned his tolerance for this whole conversation was running very thin. His lean frame was tense with repressed ire, his chin angled down as he glared sullenly at Mr. Schue from under a brow of dark curls that had grown a little longer and wilder over the short break.

"How about a rousing rendition of Marriage is for Old Folks?" he suggested abruptly, his expression deadpan even as his tone dripped with snark.

Rachel quickly stifled the impetuous laugh that threatened to escape her, biting her lip into a reluctant smile. She must have made some sound despite herself as she saw him glance over, bringing their eyes to accidentally meet for the briefest moment. Rachel thought she saw the corners of his mouth soften in shared amusement, before she quickly looked down and tried to press her own into a straight line.

Mr. Schue frowned in exception but seemed to finally catch onto the pointed dissatisfaction of their somewhat impatient advisor. He clapped his hands together, summoning the attention of the still loudly debating teens.

"Well, that's a great start on this week's assignment, guys. I look forward to hearing all your proposal choices for knocking Miss Pillsbury's well washed socks off! But for now, why don't we get back into the swing of things with some vocal warm ups –"

There was a scrape of chairs as people jumped down to receive the sheet music that Mr. Schue pulled from his trusty satchel with all the flourish of a magician whipping flowers out of a hat. Rachel stood up before Finn, refusing to relinquish the safety of his hand as she all but yanked him behind her in her unrequited eagerness to get stuck back into practice.

She glimpsed Tina and Mike huddled by the piano, all whispering giggles and loving glances, and couldn't not smile at the sight of her friend's happiness. It seemed their little tiff from Sectionals was well and truly mended. It was funny how much more Tina grinned and laughed these days, even as her wardrobe remained steadfastly dark and alternative. She was probably the sunniest goth in the state. It wasn't all due to her boyfriend of course, but their relationship certainly seemed to have bolstered a whole new self confidence and enthusiasm in the junior.

Rachel's eyes fell away slowly. Tina had filled her in over the break, excited to share the good news that Mike had decided to apply to dance schools after all, and she had to admit she was a little surprised to learn the lengths the girl had gone to on his behalf. As pleased as she was for them, there was no denying that some selfish part of her had been just a little jealous. Hearing the passion with which Tina talked about Mike's dreams had pressed on an old bruise of resentment deep inside Rachel, and she had found herself wondering what that felt like – to have the unconditional support of someone you loved, one who only ever pushed you on to bigger and better things, who invested in your future so whole-heartedly.

Wincing in guilt, Rachel immediately reminded herself that she didn't need to wonder. Wiping the frown from her face and replacing it with a blinding smile, she tugged on his arm and pulled him over to Artie and Rory to work on scales, doing her best to ignore the warm gaze that followed her movements and prickled the back of her neck.

/o/

I love dancing
Crazy romancing
Fellas advancing constantly

Rachel smiled as the song steadily grew to fill the auditorium, savouring each powerful note and taking a silly amount of pleasure in the playful lyrics as she embraced her inner Liza with reckless abandon. She laughed as Kurt twirled her into his chest, the high and clear timber of his voice embracing her just as much as his arms did.

I'm exploding
With youth and with zest
Who needs corroding
In some vulture's nest?
I've gotta fly my wings
Go places, do things
My freedom bell's really
Gonna ring!

They continued to dance around each other as Kurt picked up the verse, Rachel feeling an impish urge to reach up and ruffle his hair, before beating a hasty retreat as he chased her across the stage in retaliation. She escaped into the scaffolding set that had been assembled for the musical, still managing to continue their performance despite her giggles.

I'm not ready
To quit bein' free
And I'm not willing
To stop being me
I've gotta sing my song
Why should I belong
To some guy who says
That I'm wrong?

God, she had nearly forgotten how good it felt to just sing – for the pure, unbridled joy of it. Without judgement, pressure or restraint. To remind herself that it wasn't only talent that drove her ceaseless ambition, but love. That filling her day with music and meaning and stories and song, ridiculous or otherwise, was what she lived for. The only thing she ever wanted to do with her life.

She grinned as Kurt caught her around the waist, his laughter echoing in her ears as they stumbled in a graceless circle before pulling apart again for the final verses. The lack of accompaniment didn't bother either vocalist, the harmonious pitch of their voices more than enough to do the song the justice it deserved. Rachel felt an almost freeing sense of glee as she let herself go, belting out the lyrics with full theatricality. She spread her arms out, embellishing each cheeky line with exaggerated gestures and expressions, and her duetting partner was more than happy to join in with equal commitment. Their own little piece of Broadway flair in the heart of Lima, Ohio.

Marriage is for old folks!
Old folks, not for me!
One husband
One wife
Whaddya got?
Two people sentenced for life!

The two friends beamed at each other as the song ended, a touch breathless from their childish antics; the careless exertion of just having fun. Rachel fought an eye roll as she watched Kurt immediately set about fastidiously fixing his hair. She had barely managed to move one strand out of place despite her best efforts, producted as it was to within an inch of its life. He and Blaine were getting as bad as each other.

"That was good!"

"Yes, it was a rather impressive performance to pull off on the fly I must admit," he remarked distractedly, busy readjusting the lapels of his jacket. "Of course, you know that Nina Simone did it originally, don't you?"

"Of course," Rachel huffed. "But it still suited Liza down to a tee."

Kurt chuckled which she took to be a gracious agreement with her assessment. She smiled and moved off to collect her sweater from the top of the piano, though she was still far too warm to put it back on yet.

"So what made you want to sing that?" he asked at last, curiosity getting the better of him. "Not really in keeping with this week's theme, is it?"

Rachel shrugged, averting her face. "Just...had it in my head all day."

Kurt said nothing as he watched her walk slowly downstage and stand with her back to him, teasing the fabric in her hands in distant thought as she stared out into their empty audience. He could almost see the weight settling on her shoulders, crushing the carefree joy from her slight figure, and it worried him more than he would admit. It wasn't like Rachel to keep things so bottled up, to suffer in silence. At least… it didn't used to be.

With a sudden sigh, as if she had been holding her breath without realising it, she lowered herself down to perch on the edge of the stage.

Kurt wasn't fond of being ignored as a rule so he wasted no time in reminding her of his presence, his new Chelsea boots chapping out a sharp approach as he strode over to join her.

"Well, I'm glad it made you laugh at least," he said as he came to sit beside her on the apron. "You've seemed a little…" He paused to search for the right word, irritated at his sudden lack of eloquence. "Lost, lately."

Rachel managed a half-smile at his observation. If only he knew how right he was.

Every day it felt like her world was tipping ever further askew, a disorienting sensation as if the pages of her life were being rewritten under her feet. Somehow, Little Red Riding Hood had wandered off the track of her pre-destined story, and was now so deep in the woods that all she could do was fumble in the darkness and desperately run from the primal howls that threatened to devour her whole.

She shrugged her shoulders non-committally, not particularly wanting to talk about it, but not wanting to lie to Kurt either. To be honest, she wasn't even sure what she could say if she tried. Her thoughts and feelings were in such bitter conflict with each other that a coherent conversation was probably beyond her capabilities at the moment anyway.

Kurt cocked his head as he regarded his unusually subdued best friend, unable to quite place the source of mild concern that pestered him. The ladybug sweater was balled up in her hands, as if she were trying to wring out her anxiety through sheer force. Her eyes shifted distractedly, struggling to keep up with the worries that creased her brow so frequently these days.

"You're going to get frown lines if you keep this up," he warned semi-seriously. "And those wrinkles don't go away."

Rachel snorted a laugh and shoved his shoulder, her face dutifully relaxing into a teasing smile that drew a grin from him in return.

"That's better," he declared, chucking her chin affectionately. "Laughter lines are much sexier."

She rolled her eyes, falling quiet again though she made an effort to smooth out her forehead. Letting out a breath, she waved her hand a little in an effort to articulate some form of explanation. She didn't want Kurt to start fussing over her too closely, not on top of everything else.

"I think I'm finding this year maybe a little overwhelming," she admitted at last. "I mean, we've only got a few months left – and then what? Plus it's a lot of pressure: trying to keep the club on track for Nationals, a leading role in the musical, final exams, the NYADA audition – "

"If we even get one," he muttered.

She threw him a disapproving look, even as she fought to push aside her own panic over that subject.

Clenching a little harder into her sweater, she stared down at her feet as they dangled over the drop of the stage. Her socks had slipped a little during the exuberant performance and she absently tugged them back up to her knees, running her fingers over the worn fabric with the touch of an old friend. The elastic was starting to go on these ones, but she just couldn't bring herself to throw them out yet.

She could feel Kurt's sharp eye still lingering on her face, and quickly pushed on. There were just too many worries to keep track of, and honestly she really did have far greater things to stress over than the sexual misadventures of her unworthy ex.

"You know what I mean though. Everything just seems to have gotten so... real all of a sudden. All my life I've been planning for the promise of the future over the pain of the present, wishing it would just hurry and make things better, thinking there was some kind of cosmic agreement in place. And now it's turning up and it's like: 'So, everything you thought I would be? Yeah, I'm not convinced I can do that.'"

Kurt's brow pinched in empathy, even as he sought to lift her mood the only way he knew how.

"Don't go getting a martyr complex on me now."

She scoffed. "I wouldn't dare step on your toes like that."

He narrowed his eyes in mock offence, even as the two friends played idle footsie where their legs swung against the stage. Still contemplating her words, Kurt leaned back on his palms and let out a forlorn sigh.

"Well, I can certainly relate to a bad case of the senior blues," he conceded, tilting his head up with a pout. "This entire year has felt like an exercise in watching all my ambitions go down the toilet. Senior Class President, Tony, NYADA..."

He looked back down as he felt her hand squeeze his knee, her face full of forced determination.

"Hey, the fat lady ain't sung on that one yet," she insisted gently. "Let's save the Kleenex and ice cream for when it gets really dire."

Kurt raised a dubious eyebrow at her faith in his chances, but sensed her resolve was not up for debate on this issue right now. He nudged her shoulder with a sly smile.

"Well, thank god we have two hot guys to take the edge off it all, huh?"

Rachel smiled a little, a familiar weight of comfort settling in her chest at the thought of her sweet boyfriend. Finn really was her anchor in this sea of uncertainty. Her love for him had been the one constant in all the upheaval of the last three years. It had been the intense focus of her world in a way only stardom had been before, and that was something special. And his love for her had helped bring her into this new phase of acceptance and happiness in her life. It had changed Rachel for the better.

"How was your winter break anyway?"

She blinked as Kurt's question intruded on her thoughts. He had moved on to examining his fingernails with a look of consternation, frowning at the fine layer of dust that coated his palms.

"It was OK. Finn got me a necklace."

"Another one," he remarked drolly. "That's a bit uninspired, even for him."

"Shut up," she scolded with a smile. "It was very nice actually."

Her fingers moved to her neck automatically, before remembering that she was wearing her topaz choker today. Dropping her hand with a small frown, she wondered why she hadn't thought to put it on for the first day back at school. True, Finn probably hadn't noticed and he would never hold it against her even if he had, but it was still a thoughtless oversight on her part. She had practically lived in the gold star necklace he had gifted her last year, stubbornly keeping it close to her heart for the long weeks that they had been apart. Anxiously, Rachel struggled to recall if she had even worn her newest gift again since the day he'd given it to her.

She recalled the almost cautious look on his face as he handed it over, as if he expected her to be disappointed it wasn't the earrings that she had been dropping hints about. And she maybe was (a little) but it was still a lovely thing, and she'd been touched by the two interlinked hearts that hung from the delicate chain. It was a symbol of their love and commitment, he explained – to prove he was with her in spirit wherever she was. It was a beautiful sentiment. Yet as she listened to him talk earnestly about their futures, she couldn't help but worry slightly about what had prompted this surge of assurance on his part. It was rather uncharacteristic and somewhat reversed from the normal pattern of their relationship after all. Rachel knew she'd been quiet since Sectionals, distracted, but she thought she'd been concealing it quite well – and she berated herself again for unwittingly allowing this insecurity to grow between them.

Rachel had done a lot of thinking over the break. Probably too much. Her compulsive nature had picked over the situation with the same analytical stubbornness she applied to every other challenge in her life. In the long winter nights, she had studiously mapped out the evidence board in her mind and come to the only logical conclusions to the whole mess. Knowing as she did the morally sketchy countenance of her ex and the vindictive streak of Finn's, it only made sense that they had joined forces to inflict their own twisted brand of revenge on them both. It was petty and cruel but shouldn't have been unexpected.

And she shouldn't have let it affect her the way it did.

Setting her jaw, Rachel silently reaffirmed her resolve to the course of action she had settled on over the break. She would take the high road. This was the ultimate test of her personal growth and maturity, and she would prove she was the better person. It was her duty as captain and leader to put personal feelings aside and rebuild the bridges he had so carelessly burnt.

For the good of the team.

She might be somewhat embittered – but she wasn't blinded by it. Rachel knew that Jesse had been a big factor in their decisive victory at Sectionals, as well as the rising performance standards across the team generally. It wasn't good for morale for there to be endless friction and hostility between their MVPs. It was time to end the freeze out.

Kurt knocked her foot in teasing reprimand, drawing her attention back to their conversation once more.

"I thought you weren't supposed to do Christmas anyway?"

"I still do gifts," she corrected, flashing him a flippant grin.

He snorted affectionately. "A girl after Madonna's own heart."

/o/

"Oooh, synchronized!"

Jesse glanced around at the commotion, along with a few other students in the vicinity who proceeded to gasp and snigger at the familiar scene, the casual violence that ran so rampant in these corridors. He caught sight of some hockey jerseys and a kid with a ginger mullet who looked like he'd been plucked straight from a Stephen King miniseries audition for 'Generic 80s Bully No. 4'. Was this really the best McKinley could find to fill the top tier of their hierarchy? Poor pickings indeed.

There were no authority figures around to pull up the snickering jocks, who were already retreating back into the crowd, loudly congratulating themselves on such an inspired move – as if they weren't already about three years too late to the slushie party. Jesse suspected they could have done it right in front of a teacher's face, and there would still be zero consequences of any substance. Such was the selective blindness that afflicted both students and faculty alike at this school; a place where consistency and follow through were merely suggestions rather than the rule.

He'd heard some second hand gossip that Sam had joined the synchronized swimming team, which he could only assume was the contrived reason behind such targeted ridicule – though frankly he had been more baffled by the revelation that McKinley even had such a team in the first place (or a pool for that matter). Funny how that little fact had never been mentioned before in all the drama around cash flow for the club and the musical, and he wondered idly if it would ever be brought up again. It seemed this school had an inexplicably bottomless budget for sports (even the most obscure and ridiculous ones), while New Directions continued to operate on a shoe-string and under the constant threat of cancellation. For god's sake, the cost of maintenance on the pool alone could easily fund the Glee Club for a year.

Jesse again found himself thinking back almost fondly on his alma mater. Carmel had its own sporting prowess of course, but it had also fostered appreciation in the arts and invested heavily in its creative programmes with equal expectations of success. The pressure to deliver perfection in Vocal Adrenaline may have been intense – but it had come with a high status of respect and untouchability that was more than a little additive. Their accolades had been honoured, their reputations fierce and awed, their futures bright and uncompromising. He had only been able to walk away from it all in the first place because he knew that ultimately he would return. His rightful place with his rightful team. Vocal Adrenaline were winners, the best of the best, and Jesse didn't settle for anything less.

Stepping to the side of the steady stream of teenagers that had resumed bee lines to their next classes, he hung back as he saw Mercedes make her way over to an even wetter-looking than usual Sam. She spoke words he didn't hear, concern evident on her features as she proceeded to tenderly clean away the red slush that covered the blonde's face.

The fleeting sight made something twist and tighten uncomfortably in his gut.

He remembered well the stories she'd told him, the almost daily attacks she'd suffered without any hint of comfort or intervention from her peers or teachers. The humiliation she endured almost dutifully, resigned to the violent disdain that followed her unapologetic personality.

'They hate me. It's just the way things are.'

It had made him angry then, and it made him downright incensed now.

He could see her in his mind's eye across the corridor, like a shadow wraith from another lifetime: long hair dripping and hung about her face like a curtain of shame, even as she stuck her chin up and refused to be publicly cowed. Using the sleeves of her sweater to wipe the freezing clumps from her eyes, suppressing a shiver as the ice slipped down her neck, careful not to engage with any of the jeers as she trudged a well-worn path to the girl's bathrooms.

Fresh yolk sliding down her forehead, a flinch he felt under his knuckles, shells crunching beneath his feet –

Jesse pinched his eyes shut with a grimace, quick enough to pass unnoticed in the crowded hallway but not nearly hard enough to dispel the memory. He turned his head away, feeling his jaw crack with tension, his fingers turning white around the strap of his bag. What right did he have to feel protective and furious on her behalf, when he was no better? He knew he was reaching new levels of hypocrisy, and yet the instinct was beyond any scope of reason. Reprimanding logic did nothing to diminish the pain and violent urges he felt at the thought of the abuse that had been so ritual to her.

Jesse hated feeling powerless, hated the useless anger that burned up his chest, hated the knowledge that he was helpless to take back every hurt she had suffered including his own. Hell, he couldn't even protect her from himself; from all the fury and frustration that had nowhere to go but inwards. He may deserve the scars of such destructive emotions – but she didn't.

Forcing himself to walk on, Jesse consoled himself with the only course of action he could take from the sidelines of her life. He had wronged her in so many ways but he would make amends where he could. He could make sure none of the McKinley jocks even thought of raising a finger against her again. Just let the ginger pimple and his sidekicks try and pull that shit on Rachel while he was around.

Jesse smiled darkly at the thought.

/o/

"I was surprised to get your message."

She almost jumped at the sudden sound of his voice, and immediately cursed herself for not picking a table that faced the door. Rachel didn't like getting caught unawares, and yet he always seemed to find a way of sneaking up on her. Sitting up primly in her chair, she spared him only a glance of acknowledgement before returning her attention to the coffee cup she spun slowly in her hands.

"No doubt," she replied coolly. "But one of us had to be the bigger person."

He chose not to reply, instead sliding silently into the seat opposite her, his movements easy and casual but expression carefully stoic.

"I thought we should try to clear the air."

To be honest she had considered doing it all by phone, but deep down she knew this was something she needed to do face to face. To prove to them both that she could put it behind her. Lifting her head, she finally met his eyes.

"And it was probably best to do it in a public place. Less chance of… unpleasantness."

He looked amused at that. Rachel ignored the unspoken comment and took a sip of the still too hot coffee, using the pause to gather her composure and remind herself of her carefully prepared speech. She glanced about the unfamiliar cafe as she did, taking comfort from the steady thrum of activity and background murmur of mundane conversations. The Lima Bean might be her preferred caffeine spot, but she wasn't prepared to take the chance of running into any acquaintances during this particular meeting.

When she turned back, he was giving his order to the waiter that had appeared at her elbow. Once she had his full attention again, she linked her fingers and pressed her palms down on the table, making sure to keep her voice dispassionate and expression blank, every gesture calculated in advance for maximum control of the delicate situation.

"I've had some time to think," she began carefully, ready to explain her unexpected summoning. "And I accept now that I was just shocked about the whole thing. Quinn, I mean. My behaviour was maybe a little… unwarranted."

Jesse raised a curious eyebrow but otherwise didn't react to her admission. Rachel stamped down the flutter of apprehension, refusing to break the silent challenge of his gaze. She stared back just as hard and pressed on.

"I still think it's a terrible idea," she rebuked tartly, before quickly catching herself and giving an indifferent shrug. "But you're right. It was none of my business. Frankly, I should have expected something like this from her, from you both. Heartless flings are your fortes after all. Maybe you're perfect for each other."

A droll smile had crept onto his lips as she spoke, though the humour didn't reach his eyes.

"I do hope your acting is more convincing in the musical."

Rachel stiffened in offence but before she could utter a reply, they were interrupted by the arrival of his espresso. Forced to bite her tongue and hamstrung by her own choice of venue, she settled for glaring at him in between the waiter's arms. When they were alone again, he resumed speaking before she had a chance to castigate him for his slight.

"Am I allowed to ask for the reason behind this magnanimous gesture?"

Rachel took a deep breath and tried to curb her argumentative nature. He was watching her expectantly and she wracked her brain for this part of her prepared script, determined to retain command of the conversation; a balance of power that she could feel being expertly extracted from her grip.

"We still have to work together," she pointed out evenly. "It's in the best interests of the team for us to make peace. We don't need any more distractions."

Jesse examined her with an inscrutable gaze, one that made her feel disproportionately uneasy. She was thankful again for the relative safety of their location. Finally, he nodded slowly and she had to stop herself from letting out a sigh of relief that he accepted her reasoning without question. He didn't need to know about the mental gymnastics it had taken to get her there.

She relaxed a little in her seat and pulled her drink back to her lips. She was glad there was a professional agreement. Maybe that would help reduce the exhausting tension that had built up between them. And hopefully that would help settle her restless nights.

"Good," she found herself saying, starting to ramble to fill the quiet. "I think you'd agree that Sectionals was a little… difficult."

He nearly smiled at her choice of euphemism. She didn't even know the half of it.

"Not that you could tell from your performance," he remarked at last. "You certainly brought your A game out to play."

"Well, we had good song choices too," she mumbled, a little awkward in the unexpected praise. She wasn't sure why she was being bashful around him all of a sudden. Maybe she felt a little guilty that she had used the fraught emotion of their fight to enhance her performance, even if it was subconscious at the time.

Jesse seemed to read her thoughts. He smiled a little sadly as he regarded her across the table.

"It seems to be our tradition, doesn't it?"

She glanced at him warily but there was no confrontation in his manner. He cocked his head in thought, a current of analytical consideration in his tone as he continued.

"We have a habit of bringing our heartache into direct competition. I guess it was just your turn to reap the benefit this time."

Rachel frowned at the inference, not overly keen to relive the memory of that particular night. The one and only time they had competed against each other, their last dual of hearts, before he left her behind for the glittering promise of a fourth consecutive national title. Yet there was no denying that his performance that night had been unparalleled, just like hers at Sectionals, and she supposed she could appreciate the twisted irony that all their pain somehow ended up spurring them on to new heights. Even if it was hardly the healthiest approach to achieving victory.

"Maybe we should be grateful for all the hurt then," she suggested sarcastically. "In a screwed up kind of way."

"Maybe so," he agreed, with a sincerity that made her look up in confusion. He gave a small shrug. "Whatever the feeling, good or bad, you should always use it to hone your talent. You have to let it in, however temporarily, even if it's just to wring every last drop of blood and passion from it. Don't ever feel guilty about that."

She must have looked dubious as he pressed the point, eyeing her knowingly. "You once accused us of performing with no soul, no feeling, only mechanical perfection. Did you still think that then?"

Rachel said nothing, turning her attention to her half empty coffee instead. She remembered well watching Vocal Adrenaline from the back of that theatre, unable to take her eyes off him, just like everyone else in the audience. Their moves had still been crazily impressive and as precise as clockwork, as expected from Shelby's minions, but his performance had been something else entirely. The power in his voice had sent chills up her spine; the expression on his face as he looked out into the darkness; the anger and pain he had driven through the heart of that song, stripping every note raw and making them his own – it had all haunted her for far longer than she could ever admit.

Jesse eyes darkened imperceptibly as he watched Rachel run her finger around the rim of her cup, absently gathering the sweet foam on her pinky before raising it to her lips. She was lost in her thoughts, and he took advantage of her distraction to memorize the deceptively innocent gesture in agonizing detail.

His voice had dropped an octave when he spoke again, responding to her unspoken answer.

"You did that to me."

She looked up at last, uncertainty and suspicion written in her features, as if trying to determine the hidden agenda in his words. He didn't flinch, meeting her gaze calmly and quietly until a tentative smile flickered to life on her lips.

"So I can take credit for the showstopper that set the gold standard for show choirs everywhere?"

Jesse gave a chuckle, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "Hope it was worth it. People don't realise I lost ten pounds during that performance."

Rachel laughed and his smile widened at the gorgeous sound, even if it was at his expense. He was about to see if could coax such sweet music from her again, when a sharp beep interrupted the moment. Jesse watched as she reached for her cell phone, her smile fading as she quickly read over the incoming message.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah," she mumbled, huffing out a sigh. "Kurt's just doing his daily affirmations that there's no way he's getting into NYADA and he should just start fitting himself for a jumpsuit for life at the tyre shop."

Rachel rolled her eyes at her friend's woeful declarations, typing a quick reply promising to call him shortly and that she was sure he would make a very glamorous, sequinned grease-monkey. She got several rude and flamboyant emojis in reply, making her grin in triumph at breaking his bad mood.

"He hasn't heard back yet?"

She looked up to see Jesse regarding her thoughtfully. She shook her head, feeling the familiar concern starting to creep in again. She set her phone back down, tapping the dark screen anxiously as she worried her bottom lip. "Neither of us have," she admitted quietly.

Jesse considered her reply for a moment, watching the nervous doubt that drew the corner of her mouth and scrunched her brow. Her fearful confession from a night so many months ago echoed in his ears. He had tried to prepare her, forced her to face harsh realities for the sake of her own sanity, but the truth was that he had never lacked conviction that she would ultimately be accepted. They would be frankly braindead to overlook a talent like hers. Then again, he amended sourly, their judgment wasn't infallible.

"It's still early in the admission cycle," he assured, his tone almost dismissive. "It's likely the latest finalist letters won't get sent out for another few weeks."

She nodded distractedly but didn't look convinced. He could tell she was trying to hide her distress, to not reveal the full depth of her devastation at the prospect of rejection. He frowned in thought.

"Have you applied for other schools?"

"You think I won't get in," she accused immediately, her gaze sharp and defensive.

Jesse sighed, barely able to keep the frustration from his voice. "Seriously, Rach? Come on, you're smarter than that. It's basic common sense to have back up schools."

"That's just admitting defeat," she argued, stubborn as ever. "I don't want to plan for failure. What does that say about my faith in my talent? To dream big, you have to go big. You of all people should understand that!"

He almost wanted to laugh at her earnestness. In some ways, she was still as star-struck as she had been the first day he approached her, unable to see the larger game at play. She had never been willing to strategize like him, hadn't learnt how to protect herself by any means necessary; she had survived on dreams alone for too long. Rachel had always trusted too easily that what she wanted most would happen if she just worked hard enough, if she just wanted and willed it with all her might. Her inability to accept what she didn't want to see continued to be her biggest weakness.

He could only shake his head as he held her stare, hoping that she would take his words on board while there was still time.

"I still had a back up school. UCLA."

She opened her mouth like she wanted to speak, but soon closed it again as the implication of his statement slowly dawned on her. Jesse felt a rueful smile settle on his lips. She had believed he couldn't fail, but here he was, living proof that sometimes life could royally and truly fuck you over.

"The future doesn't fight fair. Don't allow what you want most to be taken from you, because of one foolish oversight."

Rachel hesitated as she caught his eye, immediately wishing she hadn't. Averting her gaze, she hastily started gathering her things, slipping her phone into her pocket and reaching for her bag, feeling instinctively that she had lingered a little too long in this rendezvous.

"I have to go. I said I'd call Kurt back and then I'm meeting Finn to go over our Biology homework."

She threw his name out distractedly, an unconscious barrier of protection, a reminder and reassurance. Finn was actually out with Mr. Schue this afternoon and truthfully they had made no such plans, but she was sure he wouldn't object to the help if she was to drop round tonight.

Rachel paused briefly as she tugged on her jacket, fumbling for an appropriate goodbye, even as she avoided his face.

"See you around," she mumbled a little awkwardly, before turning and taking her leave without another look.

Jesse observed her exit in impassive silence, his mind still turning over this somewhat unexpected olive branch. He honestly wasn't sure if she had just made things easier or even more impossible. With a sigh, he picked up his forgotten cup and downed the lukewarm espresso with a wince of distaste.

It was only then that he realised she had left him with the check.

Whether by accident or design, he couldn't deny it was a fitting move on her part. Jesse looked back up at the door she had just departed through with an almost approving smile.

/o/

"No wonder none of my dreams ever work out. 'Cause I got loser DNA."

Rachel frowned at the glum expression on her boyfriend's face, laying her hand over his to give a reassuring squeeze.

"Your dad wasn't a loser, Finn," she said quietly. "He was traumatised."

He shrugged off her words, unwilling to surrender his melancholia, and Rachel bit her lip to stop herself from airing any more of her thoughts – ones that he clearly didn't want to hear right now.

Honestly, she was still somewhat recovering from his confession that he had planned to join the Army in the first place.

Oblivious to her stunned silence on the other end of the phone, Finn had carried on decrying the lies he had grown up with, his voice rising more with indignation and anger at every word. Rachel had managed some sympathetic sounds on her part, anxious to soothe his agitation, even as her mind had momentarily reeled at the implications.

Just what did he expect her to do with such a revelation? Had he planned on even discussing it with her? It was a pretty big decision to make unilaterally when they were thinking of spending the rest of their lives together. How was she supposed to a react to the news that his future plans had consisted of a life and career that were as far removed from hers as possible – both practically and spiritually? Was she meant to be happy at the prospect of him in danger and being kept apart for months at a time? Was that really what he had wanted? Rachel quickly pulled her thoughts back, dismissing the concerns as best she could, reminding herself that particular point at least was now moot. Thankfully.

"Well, if you're throwing a pity party, I want in." Kurt slumped over his plate with a dramatic sigh, demanding the attention of the table with all his usual tact. "I have as much chance of getting into NYADA as I do of playing Stanley in Streetcar."

"People online are already talking about receiving their finalist letters," she mumbled, feeling a fresh wave of worry sweep over her at the ever encroaching march of cold, hard reality.

"You didn't get one?"

She gave her boyfriend vaguely exasperated look. Did he really think she wouldn't have told him immediately if she had?

"Screw this, we're getting cheesecakes."

Rachel smiled gratefully at the unanimous decision. She had hoped an evening out would lift the spirits of both her boys, but maybe sugary desserts would do it instead. However, she winced as she watched her best friend click his fingers at the nearest waiter.

"Kurt!" she whispered in furtive reprimand. "That's so rude! They're gonna spit on our cheesecakes!"

He cocked a salty eyebrow. "Well, thank you, Miss. Every-Day-People."

She rolled her eyes and sat back, an indulgent smile creeping across her lips despite herself. It was a shame Blaine hadn't come out tonight; they worked as a good tag-team at reigning in his boyfriend's bitchier asides, as entertaining as they were. But while Kurt had been coerced into keeping the peace in the Hudson-Hummel household, things were still a bit strained between the other boys, so she could somewhat understand Blaine's reluctance to socialise.

"I actually thought we were all gonna get out here," Finn muttered then without looking up, jabbing his fork at the remains of his meal dejectedly. "I mean, why did she have to tell me that? Why can't I have something in my life that's… that's special? That means something."

Kurt cast a hesitant glance in her direction at her boyfriend's words, his expression a mix of apprehension and apology. Rachel gave a small smile and shrug in return, letting him know it was okay. She was used to Finn's sometimes thoughtless turns of phrase, and she had learned not to take it to heart. He didn't mean it to sound as hurtful as it did. He was just despondent. She had to make allowances, it had been a crushing day for him after all.

The spectre of the future hung heavily over all the occupants of the booth that night, taunting them with uncertainty and shattered illusions. Suddenly the dream didn't seem quite enough any more, and the lack of concern from the wider world was more than a little frightening.

Rachel knew they were all feeling very sorry for themselves right now, but she was also confident that tomorrow they would pick themselves back up. Finn included. She would help him – to fulfil his ambition and his potential – and then they could build their future lives together. As equals.

Right?

Her gaze lowered almost guiltily in response, unable to silence the small voice of doubt that lurked just out of reach of her stubbornness. The unfaithful whisper that insisted his dreams were just so much… smaller than hers. Would their priorities and passions ever truly align? It had been hard enough for their love to bloom (let alone survive) in the hostile environment of McKinley, and it seemed life after high school was shaping up to be even more brutal. The fact was that she could will him to be a part of her world and ambitions as much as she wanted… but would he ultimately just end up resenting her for it?

Stop it.

Rachel shook her head firmly, familiar determination taking the wheel once more, steering her back onto the only road forward she could accept. She had planned for success her whole life, had always known what she wanted and gone out of her way to achieve it. This was no different. They would always find a way to be together, somehow. No matter what was to come, she would find a way to make her Broadway dreams come true, and she was sure Finn would find his own too.

She may be feeling low about the perilous state of her NYADA application, but this was just a temporary set back, not the final blow.

Echoes of a recent conversation played through her mind then, pulled forth reluctantly from her memory at the direction of her thoughts. Rachel twirled her drink straw as she considered his words again, unable to refute the logic in the argument. Good advice from an unsavoury source, was still good advice after all. Maybe he was right. Her future was simply too important to gamble on a single throw of the dice. She sighed under her breath in resignation. Looked like she was going to be very busy the next few nights.

"Well, it certainly seems like the only one with anything to celebrate this week will be Mr. Schue," Kurt said abruptly as he slouched back in the booth, jolting her out of her reverie. "If he ever gets around to deciding how to pop the question that is. Speaking of which," he straightened up again with a hint of interest. "How did you girls get on with your choice of offering? What did you end up going with?"

"First Time Ever I Saw Your Face," she replied, a little absently. "It was Santana's suggestion."

Truthfully, Rachel had been more than a little surprised when the Troubletones had approached her and Tina in the hallway the other day and suggested a collaboration. Apparently Mr. Schue had been eager to share his news with all members of his adopted family, even the estranged ones, and Rachel had to admit it was touching that the other girls wanted to be a part of it. Of course, they could have just been in good spirits and feeling generous after their own recent Sectionals win.

However the performance itself hadn't been… quite what she'd expected.

It had seemed a safe enough bet as far as romantic ballads went, and everyone had sung their parts beautifully, drawing on deep emotion as the lyrics inevitably summoned their own memories of love at first sight. Rachel herself had smiled and closed her eyes as she uttered the fateful words, waiting for his familiar face and letterman jacket to fill her mind. Yet she'd caught only a glimpse of a beckoning piano, an arrogant smile and tousled curls, before she'd wrenched her eyes open again and hastened to cover the hitch in her voice.

When Mercedes had cried in the bathroom afterwards about Sam and Shane, Rachel hadn't been able to summon a single word of comfort.

Snapping back to her surroundings she quickly repressed the disconcerting memory, only to notice Kurt was rattling off his list of far superior song suggestions while glancing about impatiently over his shoulder, scouting for his elusive cheesecake.

"How did it go?"

She almost flinched at the sound of Finn's voice next to her, and quickly turned to him with an affectionate smile. Grasping his hand, she pushed down the sudden lump in her throat and met his eyes earnestly.

"It went great."

/o/

"Hey, you, wait up –"

Jesse turned as he felt a hand grab at the cuff of his jacket, somewhat surprised to see the Milli Vanilli of the Troubletones panting like she had just run a marathon to catch him instead of the length of a school corridor. Before he could demand an explanation for his rude accosting, she let go and composed herself enough to deliver her message.

"Miss. Corcoran wants to see you."

Jesse stared at the girl in front of him, the stir of apprehension quickly quashed by a wave of irritation. He wanted nothing more that to tell her that Shelby could fuck right off with her calls for an audience – but it would only be a waste of breath and energy in fighting the inevitable. She seemed to take his silence as acquiescence at any rate.

"S-She's in the music room," she advised, a little flustered at whatever she saw in his expression, before quickly ducking back into the amorphous student body that filled the hallways and making her escape.

Jesse cursed colourfully as he forced his way back through the home-time crush, resenting every step he took, too preoccupied to even notice the way students practically crashed into each other in their haste to get out of his way.

He knew better than to try and second guess his former coach's motives, but he could feel the tension flooding his body regardless, setting his already formidable defences to high alert. They had managed to avoid each other's direct presence for months, by a mutual agreement that she had now seen fit to break. He understood the way Shelby worked too well to suspect there was anything good to come from this.

/o/

"You wanted to see me?"

She certainly didn't miss the mockery that coated his words, but he knew she wouldn't react to it. Jesse felt himself bristle as she kept her back to him, calmly taking her time to gather up the music sheets and workbooks that lay on top of the piano, offering no word of acknowledgement. Not yet.

He dropped his satchel heavily onto the nearest chair and crossed his arms, instantly berating himself for giving her the petulant reaction she was looking for. He couldn't help it. Jesse hated being summoned, but he hated himself even more for still feeling compelled to come. The ever obedient apprentice forever drawn back at his master's whim.

"Yes I did," she said at last, an almost indulgent lilt to her voice that set his teeth on edge. She finally turned around, one hand trailing delicately along the sleek black surface of the instrument, the other arm holding the stack of folders to her breast. Jesse stiffened as her gaze finally fell on him, glinting with an unspoken influence that couldn't be broken.

"I realised I never congratulated you on your Sectionals victory."

He raised an eyebrow, very much doubting the sincerity of such a sentiment, but willing to play along for now.

"Nor I on yours," he said carefully.

She inclined her head in gracious acceptance, not that either of them had ever truly contemplated defeat as an option. It was that same uncompromising confidence had made them such an effective team in the heyday of Vocal Adrenaline.

"I've also realised that I never gave Quinn an answer on her request to join the Troubletones," she carried on somewhat cryptically. Lowering her lashes in thought, she drew an idle finger across the top of the file pressed against her chest. Jesse kept his eyes fixed on her face, feeling his impatience rising at whatever this game was. He quickly closed his expression and said nothing.

Shelby gave a regretful sigh. "Sadly, I just don't think it's an option any more. It seems she's not ready for the responsibility or the commitment required. I hoped we could maybe work something out, but unfortunately she's continued to prove she just doesn't have the judgment and maturity to take on such an important role."

Jesse frowned as she spoke, sensing the direction this was going and determinedly ignoring the uneasiness that settled on his skin like gossamer spiderwebs.

"Why are you telling me this?"

She met his gaze with those too-familiar dark eyes, expertly disarming his guard in a way only she could. A hint of a guileful smile curved the corner of her mouth. "Well, I thought it might be better for her to hear such news from… a friend."

He didn't respond, knowing a careless comment now would only be playing into her hands. He stared back stonily, watched as she took a moment to make sure the full meaning of her words had sunk in. He worked hard to unclench his jaw. As if there was any room for misinterpretation. She was letting him know that she knew – and that she disapproved. It was a warning to toe the line. Resentment cracked through his muscles like a barbed whip, but he didn't flinch or give an inch in the stand-off. She had trained him too well.

"So much for making things right," he said at last, a thin smirk chilling his lips.

Shelby eyed him closely. "Indeed."

She walked towards him then, heading for the door, her movements ever graceful and controlled. She paused when they were almost shoulder to shoulder, close enough to allow the rich scent of her perfume to snake inside his lungs, constricting his chest. Shelby cast a last glance over his face which he refused to meet, her voice deceptively soft.

"Be careful, Jesse."

/o/

A boy who kills cannot love,
A boy who kills has no heart.
And he's the boy who gets your love
And gets your heart!
Very smart, Maria, very smart!

Jesse frowned to himself as he scribbled a quick addendum on the sheet music beside him, before going back to his almost unintelligible notes.

She still wasn't angry or urgent enough. Biting back a sigh of frustration, he glanced up and squinted at the Latina on stage critically. This song was full of raw bitterness and grief, enraged resentment practically snarling through every line, and yet Santana seemed too concerned with making it showy and polished. Like she wanted to showcase her voice rather than the character, without realising she could do both.

Jesse tapped his pen against the script in exasperation. Had she even seen the play? This was perhaps the most emotionally explosive number in the entire musical, and she needed to match the menacing strikes of the melody with equal feeling. Anita was lashing out in fury, hurt and confusion throughout this song, every note spitting with tension. He had no doubt Santana could pull off such a fiery performance, and yet she wasn't showing what she was capable of with this rather restrained rendition. Somewhat surprising given the formidable reputation of the cheerleader.

She certainly needed sharper diction on her final reprimands. It was essential the climax was built properly with those lines in order to stoke the desperation of Maria's rejoinder. As if taking her cue from his thoughts, Rachel's voice abruptly pierced the air with a classical vibrato that was rich with hope and innocence. Jesse felt a smile rise unbidden to his lips, the stress momentarily easing from his shoulders, as his attention was once more consumed by the absurdly talented girl before him.

He watched as she reached out to Santana in entreaty, the two players moving around each other in sharp circles that made the crimson and white of their dresses flutter about their knees. Her hair was pulled back in soft waves that framed her face, the rounded pitch of her voice and wide gaze of her eyes all accentuating her youth and naivety that were so suited for this role. She really did excel at playing the corruptible innocent, he noted with a smirk.

They were coming into the duelling duet section of the number, and Jesse leaned forward in his seat with concentration. This had been a contentious point in prior rehearsals. Artie had been all for ditching it entirely, citing the creative choice in the original movie, arguing that it hindered the pace and flow of the scene.

Their director had said it was too difficult to arrange the composition, to get their voices to blend without fighting over each other. Their vocal coach had strongly disagreed, and been adamant about sharing his superior opinions on the matter. Emma and Beiste had steered well clear of the artistic dispute, opting for a diplomatic silence and leaving the two boys to hash it out.

Jesse had insisted it was worth the extra effort and that he could get it to work. The operetta overlaps were the linchpin of the number – the crux of the fight and the height of emotions for both characters. It was true to the original production and the best way to lead into Maria's part. The whole thing was just more powerful.

Rachel had agreed with him of course. 'Theatre is all about pushing yourself creatively, not taking the easy way out. We should do everything we can to get the very best from the performance'. Eventually, in the face of uncompromising stubbornness from the pair of them, Artie had grudgingly agreed to do it their way but had muttered that it was on their heads.

It had been stressful and hard work, but it had paid off.

Jesse only had two small points to note down when the verses were done, otherwise impressed at how it had come together. He settled back in his chair, enjoying the smug satisfaction of being proved right once again. Just went to show that the rewards were always worth taking the risk.

The tempo slowed and the music softened into a lingering melody of yearning, as Rachel took centre stage for Maria's heartfelt solo. Jesse couldn't help the swell of pride that warmed his chest as she stepped into the spotlight that was her natural radiance. He watched the way she tipped her face up, as if seeking out the sun, the lyrics as instinctive as breath upon her lips.

He observed how she took care to balance her focus between the audience and Santana, imploring for understanding and acceptance from them both. She clasped her fingers together over her stomach, eyes closed in concentration that she managed to pass off as characterisation. There was an almost operatic quality to her performance, as she built the growing plea of the song through a dynamic that changed from soft and almost delicate to bold and powerful, playing with the push and pull back of longing in her voice to beautiful effect.

'I Have ALove' was a tough number for anyone who wasn't a first soprano, and he had seen how determinedly Rachel had sought to rise to the personal challenge, how much effort she had put into reaching that pitch as smoothly as she could. She was kneeling at Santana's feet now, the folds of her dress pooling around her like a carpet of snow. Reluctantly, Jesse dropped his gaze and closed his eyes, forcing himself to listen to her voice in critical isolation.

There was no denying that she sounded incredible, the improvement clear even in just these past weeks, but it still wasn't quite there yet. The higher she got, the tighter the notes were, restricting the resonance of her chest voice. He knew she had the range, but she hadn't practised enough in high soprano to have properly developed those muscles yet. She was also mixing classic and contemporary styles for some reason, though she was stronger on contemporary.

He opened his eyes with a quiet sigh and dutifully added to his notes for later. He doubted most people would be able to tell (they were preparing to play to an audience of friends and parents after all, not a panel of judges), and she was more than accomplished enough to steal the show already. However, he knew she would still eagerly soak up any further feedback and advice that would help her improve on an already stellar performance, ever striving for perfection as she was. She was too much like him to not resent the critiques somewhat, but she would never ignore them.

As the number drew to a soulful close, there was a burst of enthusiastic applause from the two teachers beside him. Jesse let out a weary breath at their insistence on celebrating every number in every rehearsal, but he didn't begrudge Rachel her admiration. Still, he had a lot he wanted to get through tonight and it was a delay he could do without.

Artie had been off school sick today so naturally Jesse had stepped up to selflessly take over the mantle of director, and he was determined to make the most of it. With Sectionals and the winter break, the show was now only one week away and rehearsals had started again in earnest. While most of the emphasis at this point was on polishing up transitions, practising choreography and tweaking vocals here and there, Jesse still harboured concerns over some aspects of the storytelling and was keen to work on them while he had the undisputed authority.

When the adults had finished gushing and the girls finished preening, he stood up and called everyone to attention once more. People immediately began to filter across the stage at his instructions, assuming positions and following his direction with surprisingly little resistance. He saw Quinn catch his eye with a subtle eyebrow, the smirk on her lips clearly suggesting that she thought he was enjoying being in command a little too much. He threw her an almost invisible wink before resuming the task of imparting the benefit of his insight on the waiting cast.

After rehearsing the opening group routine twice more (with his amendments), he proceeded to call Rachel and Blaine back onto the stage. Out of all his notes, Jesse had reservations about the Somewhere number the most, and particularly the emotionally charged scene that preceded it, which was why they were going to run it as many times as it took tonight until he was satisfied.

It just didn't make sense to him. Rachel was perhaps the most expressive person he'd ever met; she wore her heart on her sleeve with a stubborn pride he'd never understood, laying her vulnerabilities bare to the world to the extent of her own detriment. She felt everything so deeply, cared too much. And yet here she was pulling back, playing it safe and slick, letting the technical power of her voice drive the songs rather than experiencing the emotion through her whole being. She could bring so much to this role, but for whatever reason she wasn't allowing herself to cross that line. It was a low-level concern that bothered him with several aspects of her performance but nowhere was her unusual reticence more obvious than in the post-Rumble confrontation, and he was determined to finally crack the frustrating paradox.

Jesse shook his head to himself as they finished yet another tame run through of the lover's fight, passing a hand over his face in an attempt to gather his patience.

"You're still too timid," he sighed, interrupting the scene with a wave of his hand.

He saw Rachel cross her arms as she turned to face him, the same tightly controlled impatience he felt mirrored in her own body. Blaine opened his mouth to comment but Jesse ignored him, his sharp azure gaze fixed on his leading lady as he walked over.

"Every movement is hesitant, almost shy. You barely touch him, it's all fluttering lashes and coy pull backs. Yes, Maria is inexperienced but she's also a bold, impulsive young woman exploring her sensuality. She throws herself head long into this new sensation, its what makes them fall so deep, so fast." He gestured towards her in frustration. "You're too tentative, where's all your passion gone?"

Rachel drew back her shoulders in indignation, lifting her chin stubbornly at the rebuke.

"She's just discovered he's murdered her brother," she said stiffly, and he could tell she was making a concerted effort to remain objective. "I don't think she'd be running into his arms for a passionate embrace."

"No, you're right." Jesse stepped closer but spoke softer, watching the spark of her eyes flicker and glow in the heat of the challenge. "She wants to hate him, to hurt him, she's not sure she can ever forgive him. She wants nothing more than to push him out of her life and spend the rest of her days seeking absolution for her heart's betrayal. But she doesn't. She can't. She still loves him, she still wants him, and she hates herself for that. And all that anger, all that confusion, all that yearning, it has to go somewhere."

He saw her hesitate as she processed his words, her gaze searching over his face as her jaw worked around words that wouldn't come. She wanted to argue but she couldn't disagree with his claims. He could see the conflict flit across her expression; artistic integrity fighting with schoolgirl pride. Rachel didn't like conceding to others on principle, and especially not to him, determined as she was to prove her own future star-power credentials.

"This scene needs to drive home the inevitable tragedy of their love. It's full of grief, longing and desperation, one last stolen reprieve before the outside world breaks their bubble for good."

"I know but – "

"Start over."

Rachel glared hard as he stepped back to the sidelines again, still standing close enough to keep a watchful eye on her performance. She knew he was pushing her extra hard, holding her to higher standards than her co-stars, and somewhere deep down under the aggravation and bullishness... she was grateful for it. Some secret part of her was quietly thrilled at the attention, at the knowledge that someone was finally pushing her to be the very best she could be. Still, she wasn't about to be overly gracious about it.

Rolling her eyes for good measure, she moved back to her starting position and took a deep breath, settling her focus with professional determination. When she saw Blaine enter from stage right, she was fully back in character and ready to spring into action.

"No!" she shouted sharply, jumping up from the bed frame and running towards him. "No, don't come in! Get out! You promised you would stop it!"

Blaine barely got a chance to react to her small form barrelling into him, before they were called to a halt again. Breaking apart with a sigh, the two leads turned towards their director once more who was striding towards them with a look of barely restrained exasperation.

"No good. It's still too controlled – it feels too scripted and managed."

His eyes bored into Rachel's in pointed accusation and she felt her temper begin to bite back under the pressure. Jesse didn't react to her mutinous expression, concerned only with ravaging her characterisation with all his brutal lack of tact.

"You're still holding back, pulling everything in. If you don't allow yourself to feel the full depths of your emotions, how do you expect the audience to?"

"I don't know what more you expect me to do," she shot back impatiently. "There's a danger of going overwrought and falling into overacting."

"True, but you've still got to commit fully to the moment or it will just come across as staged and unnatural." He frowned, running a distracted hand through his hair as he thought. "If the emotion comes from a real place then you can afford to push things further."

Blaine opened his mouth to venture an opinion, but was cut off by Rachel's retort as she continued to argue with their coach, both seemingly completely oblivious to his presence. He glanced between them awkwardly, feeling as if he was somehow intruding and not sure how to best diffuse the situation.

"Artie had no problems with this scene before! Stop picking fights just to assert some authority!"

Jesse scowled. "Stop refusing to try just because you're afraid to step outside your comfort zone!"

"Afraid?!"

"Yes," he snapped, drawing close enough to see the amber tints of her blazing eyes and doing his best to ignore the rosy flush that was creeping into her cheeks. "This whole scene is about surrender. To fate, to passion, to despair. Maria is giving in to what she can't control or even truly understand. You can't express that if you don't allow yourself to let go."

He watched her huff and narrow her eyes but before she could form a response, Jesse signalled Blaine to step aside and ordered her to start the scene again, taking his place to better critique her performance. She clearly didn't think much of him standing in, but he didn't much care. She wanted to prove she could match her acting to the emotional power of her vocals – well, now it was time to prove it.

Rachel's heart was beating too fast to be healthy, and she almost feared she was on the verge of another panic attack, but her mind was clear enough to recognise the gauntlet that had just been thrown down. His piercing eyes swept over her like a searchlight, his stance arrogance and goading, and she set her jaw in a resolve she didn't entirely feel. Her insides felt tight and hot, every conflicted and unruly emotion she had bridled straining against the reigns of her control. She instinctively went to pull them back down but upon recognising the fear that drove the impulse, she immediately stopped, refusing to prove his point for him.

Sensing her trepidation, Jesse ducked his head and caught her gaze with a hard stare, his voice lowering almost gently with the demand. "Use it. All the resentment, all the hurt, all the rage. Hate me like you should."

'You have to let it in.'

He was riling her on purpose, applying pressure in all the right places until she relented, until she could see no one else but him and feel nothing but turmoil. They were still stood so close. Rachel felt a shudder wrack her body as the tomb finally caved in and all the tormented ghosts came bursting forth to wreak fresh havoc.

He wanted her to feel something real, something still raw. So be it.

"Get out!"

Lashing out blindly, she shoved his chest with more force than she intended, catching herself by surprise but suddenly unwilling to pull her punches. Not any more. She felt him tense against her palms but hold his ground, almost like he had been braced for it.

"No! No! No!" she yelled the familiar lines with a new sense of anguish, balling her hands up in his shirt, digging her nails into his skin through the thin fabric. "You promised! You promised you would stop it!"

"I tried." She heard him recite Blaine's lines with far more commitment than she had expected. "I tried – "

"Liar!" she cried out, loud enough to make the surrounding cast start in shock but she didn't even notice. "You promised...and… and instead you murdered him! You murdered me!"

Her voice cracked and broke, her eyes burned, her body shaking violently with each tearful accusation.

"KILLER!" she screamed through her sobs, trembling so hard she couldn't bring herself to raise her head to meet his face. Her fists were starting ache as she pounded them against his ribs relentlessly, paying no heed to the rules of stage fighting. She could feel him stiffen under her rain of her blows, but he didn't visibly flinch or recoil from her attack, quietly absorbing her rage and pain. "Killer! Killer! Killer!"

Rachel drew in a ragged breath, and the rush of oxygen was enough to bring her somewhat back to her senses. She was shocked to find real tears in her eyes as she opened them again. She quickly lowered her gaze, her fingers loosening in his shirt as she heaved a theatrical wail and prepared for her cue to drop the ground in exhaustion.

Yet she found she couldn't. At some point during her tirade, Jesse's arms had come to wrap around her, holding her upright and locking her hands between their torsos. She could feel his heart beating almost as hard as her own, his breath strong and quick under her palms, and she suddenly feared that she'd gone too far, hurt him too much. And yet his grip was fierce as he held her to him, his hand tucked into her hair as she pressed her face against his collarbone.

"I'm going to the cops."

She heard him speak the familiar lines almost through a daze. They were apparently running this to the end now, neither able to break the protection of performance, to pull back from the roles they had stepped into. She felt him move his hand to her chin, his fingers firm as he forced her face up to look at him. She sucked in a teary gasp, playing to their watching audience, even as she struggled to clear the moisture from her vision, blinking rapidly as she reluctantly met his gaze. She almost faltered at his expression, the haunted shadow in his eyes as they delved into hers, the pained clench of his jaw.

"I just wanted to see your face one last time."

Rachel frowned at the grieving intimacy in his voice, the tenderness with which he looked at her, and could only think that he had decided to fully embrace the method acting ethos.

He pulled away on cue, releasing her from his embrace and stepping back.

"No..." Rachel shook her head, reaching out to grasp the tips of his fingers, tugging him back to her. She spoke her lines with just the right balance of despair and longing. "If you let them take you from me... how can I forgive you for that?"

"Tell me what you want," he urged in a pitch-perfect note of soft desperation as they drew close again. "Anything."

Rachel fought down the shiver she could feel raking up her spine. "Stay... Stay with me. H-Hold me."

He placed his hands on either side of her neck, thumbs grazing her cheeks. "Forever," he uttered, with only the barest hint of a smile to betray his character. Rachel saw it, and felt the panic begin to rise. She could hear the faintest rustle of movement from the rest of the cast around them, but no-one spoke, no-one dared break the spell. No-one would save her.

Jesse could see the apprehension flutter in her eyes. She knew what came next in the scene, and she could end it right here if she chose to. All she had to do was break contact. But she didn't. She held his gaze stubbornly, an almost defiant tilt to her chin, as if she was waiting for him to blink first.

He smirked to himself. She should really know better than to call his bluff.

He moved in slowly, almost as if he were giving her every opportunity to fold, to turn her head away, to spurn – but she refused to give him the satisfaction. Rachel would prove she was a professional. She had kissed Blaine multiple times already in the name of art after all, this was no different. This time, she would show him just how good an actor she was.

Yet as her eyes flickered down to trace the shape of his mouth, as her belly throbbed at the skim of his breath on her face, as her pulse drummed a frantic warning in her veins, she felt her resolve start to waver. When his lips finally brushed over hers, warm and soft and teasing, Rachel realised too late the fatal mistake she had made.

Her brow scrunched as if in pain as every tactile memory she thought she had banished abruptly came crashing back through her body, flooding her with a physicality so intense that it nearly shook her where she stood. The onslaught of sensation jolted into her heart like a lightning strike, igniting the ash and embers there that should have long since burned out.

A warm flush stole over her skin at the assured command of his touch, one that had her responding in kind despite herself, the dangerous rush of instinct rekindling far too easily between them. She thought she felt him smile for the barest second but before she could even think about pulling away, Jesse firmed his hold on her face and bit gently into her lower lip, deepening the kiss and causing her to swallow a soft moan.

Rachel was dimly aware of the crowd of students and teachers that surrounded them, the boundary they were recklessly close to crossing, unsure of the repercussions they were toying with. The fact remained that this was still a high school play, no matter how emotionally fraught the scene, and there was no denying that the heated assault of his mouth on hers was anything but chaste.

She forced her hands to stay at his waist, clenching at the hem of his shirt with a vice like grip, as if that would somehow make the sin of her lips less damning. It was too much. The heady taste of him, the demanding pressure and urge to surrender, the familiar hum of pleasure she could feel building in her throat – for one terrifying moment, all the interceding months seemed to fall away and it was as if they had never stopped.

Rachel suddenly wanted to hit him again in sheer frustration. There was a reason she had worked so hard to forget!

Meanwhile Miss. Pillsbury and Coach Beiste were shifting awkwardly in their seats, unconvinced as to the appropriateness of the turn this rehearsal had taken. Educational propriety seemed to dictate they intervene... but then again, this was musical theatre and not really their remit. Both staff members felt rather out of their element and not too sure where to look. Finally, Coach Beiste settled for clearing her throat loudly.

The sudden sound seemed to puncture the almost reverent hush that had fallen over the stage and its players – though the couple at the centre of attention took slightly longer to break character. People began to move and mutter again, fervent whispers rippling out through the circle of teens as the sparks of gossip caught like wildfire.

Kurt sidled up to Blaine, both boys having watched the unfolding drama with an almost enraptured focus. Blaine's expression was a mixture of professional study and personal concern as he observed the familiar scene from a fresh perspective. Somehow he doubted he would ever be able to replicate quite that level of intimate intensity with his fellow lead, no matter how much he committed to the role.

"Star-crossed indeed," his boyfriend commented in an undertone.

Kurt had to say there were not a lot of straight couples who could give him a genuine tingle, but damned if he wasn't the smallest bit turned on watching these two. Glancing about his fellow students, he had a feeling he wasn't the only one getting a little hot and bothered either. Now that was what he called a powerful stage chemistry; too real to be faked.

Finally the two players pulled apart from each other and Kurt frowned slightly as he caught the way Rachel followed the retreat of Jesse's mouth for a moment, unconsciously chasing his touch, before she snapped her eyes open and seemed to come back to herself.

(Maybe he should re-think that 'stage' qualification.)

Blaine glanced over and the two boys exchanged a look, the flicker of suspicion passing unspoken between them. Kurt could see his own apprehension echoed in Blaine's face, and it did nothing to assuage his sense of misgiving.

It seemed that perhaps things between Rachel and Jesse were not quite as done and dusted as they had all thought.

Rachel blinked as the scene broke around them, dropping her rudely right back into the shattered aftermath of her surroundings. Jesse's eyes held hers captive for the longest heartbeat, dark and brewing with an ever threatening storm, one she wasn't sure she could keep outrunning forever.

"Better," he decreed at last. Before she could react, he withdrew his hands from her face almost brusquely, his tone all business once again as he waved Blaine back over. "I have some notes."

She was suddenly acutely aware of the multitude of gazes that surrounded them, burning into her already overheated flesh. Rachel could feel her co-star trying to catch her eye as he walked up to join them and she hastily composed a neutral expression, hoping against hope that her lack of breath had gone unnoticed, gripped as she was by a flashback that Jesse must have known he was invoking.

As much as she wished she didn't, Rachel could still recall every detail of their first kiss even after all this time, and the sensations were returning thick and fast in the echo of his words.

The laughter and sly flirting as they spun around her bedroom to the spirited melody of their duet, the enticement of his voice even as it rivalled hers for dominance, the way she danced away from his smouldering looks and teasing hands, his long frame leaning over her in temptation… until he finally caught her under the thinnest of guises, one that still made her blush shyly.

Suppressing a shiver, she quickly dug her nails into her palm to break the memory. The painful sting helped ground her, but did nothing for the ache that wrenched her stomach into knots of apprehension. For the truth was that as much as she feared his heat, Rachel knew only too well that Jesse could be just as wounding when he went slow and gentle, achingly so.

She felt herself staring at his back as he turned away like she was nothing more than an afterthought, suddenly feeling infuriated beyond belief. How could he be so unaffected while she felt like she had just been put through a laundry wringer?

Idiot, she scolded herself immediately. What else did she expect? No matter how hard she tried, her show face would never be a match for his. Jesse had always held an emotional mastery that allowed him to remain in control, never giving away more than he had to, while she was left desperately attempting to call back the wild horses that had already bolted.

It took her longer than it should have to realise that rehearsal was still ongoing, and that she was expected to continue into the next number with her rightful Tony restored to her side.

After a beat of hesitation that was undetectable to everyone except one, Rachel picked up her cue and launched into the haunting notes of 'Somewhere', cloaking herself in the protection of Maria's pain like it was a blanket of chainmail.

/o/

"Hey, lover."

He smiled and glanced up at the sultry greeting. Classes had ended a few hours ago, and he wondered where she had been keeping herself in order to intrude upon his late working hours. There had been no Glee practice tonight, everyone was too concentrated on the final preparations for the musical, which was also why he currently lingered in the shadowed auditorium she had found him in.

"Hey, trouble."

She chuckled and he abandoned his work to watch as she leant back against the seats in front of him, her slender legs crossing seductively under the short hem of her gypsy dress. She appraised him quietly for a moment, amusement plucking at the corner of her mouth in a secret tease.

"That was quite a move you pulled off the other day. I'm sure you realise that it's all anyone has been talking about." A vulpine smile edged across her lips. "In fact, I would say it's quite possibly the most discussed and dissected stage kiss since that fiasco at Nationals."

"I might be flattered if that wasn't such a low bar to surpass."

She wasn't fooled by his nonchalance, well aware of the perverse thrill he got out of manipulating their school's gossip mill as effortlessly as he did. He was too much of a drama queen for his own good. She rolled her eyes.

"You certainly have a uniquely intense 'hands-on' directing style."

"I take my artistic responsibilities very seriously."

"Hmm. Somehow I can't see Artie following your shining example."

"Let's hope not."

Quinn grinned and shook her head, reluctant admiration sparkling in her gaze at the sheer audacity of it all. "I'm honestly surprised she let you get away with it."

The smirk he gave her was downright Machiavellian.

"Never underestimate Rachel's stubbornness."

In truth, he hadn't actually planned on taking it that far, but the scene had been going so well and it was an opportunity he simply couldn't pass up. No one could fault his commitment after all. It was almost too easy. He had been aware of the dangerous line they were treading, the risk he was taking, but Jesse had never met a dare he didn't answer in full.

Possibly not his smartest move in retrospect, he thought wryly, as he recalled just how difficult it had been to pull away from her again. To see the lost look in her eyes, the conflict and confusion that would no doubt coalesce into fresh resentment, another abuse of trust she would hold against him. Yet he had to admit, he hadn't been expecting quite that level of reciprocation to his little gambit. If she had been trying to prove a point, she certainly succeeded – though whether it was the point she had intended, was another matter. Either way, the taste of her lips had lingered with unforgiving clarity, and getting through the rest of that rehearsal had been rather challenging to say the least.

Quinn was eyeing him with a calculating gaze, her head tilted in some private consideration.

"It was certainly a bold play," she said at last, her tone thoughtful and probing.

Jesse shrugged in acknowledgement, the facade of casualness falling short of his usual unimpeachable standards.

"But perhaps a foolish one," he muttered under his breath.

He dropped his gaze to the papers that sat under his idle hand, the reams of notes and dry jargon that he had tried so hard to bury himself under. Anything to stop his mind from dwelling on the physical sensations that particular kiss had scorched into his body.

Memory was one thing, softened and sanitised by time, but now the ache was a living, breathing entity that prowled through his bones and bayed in his blood. The dulled pang of hunger that he had learned to live with for so long, was now sharp and brutal once more, snapping its jaw in frustration at the very real and recent reminder of what it starved for. The elusive indulgence he had stolen, had left a riled and restless craving in its wake. And it almost unnerved him.

Jesse gave a mirthless huff. He really was a masochist.

He was drawn abruptly from his angst-ridden thoughts by the feel of a warm and pliable form sliding gracefully onto his lap. He looked up, objections struggling to form in his mind, even as his hands wrapped around the familiar curves by force of habit. He caught only a glimpse of soft gold and twinkling green, before her mouth found his with an almost tentative touch.

He moved without thinking, his body crying out for the comfort it had been offered so willingly. He delved into her mouth before his mind could voice a protest, the instinct almost a compulsion, his fingers winding though the fine, fair thread of her hair and keeping her close. She responded quickly to his breach of weakness, kissing him back with equal abandon.

"I'm not distracting you, am I?" she inquired coyly when they broke apart, skimming her lips over his cheek to nip lightly at his earlobe.

"Yes actually," he murmured against her neck, a knowing smile in his voice, "and I thank you for it."

Quinn laughed softly as she pulled back, shifting to straddle his hips, while he took the opportunity to slide the notes he had been writing up from the technical rehearsal off to the side. Her fingers traced his chin for a moment before he leaned up and swiftly claimed her mouth again, dragging her down into a hard kiss that spoke to a deep, frustrated desire for relief.

His hands trailed over her spine, and she shivered through the light fabric of her dress as she felt his fingers grasp at her waist before settling on her thighs with an almost painful hold. She tensed against him as his palms grazed the bare skin of her legs, and heard a husky groan rise from his throat at the increased pressure. Quinn dropped her arms from around his neck, stroking down his stomach and reaching between them to tug on his belt, but paused at the touch of his hand.

She looked up to find him watching her through a half lidded gaze, one that barely concealed the crash of urges that warred there. His breathing was strained but his grip was steady as he deftly caught her fingers and halted their path, gently but firmly moving them to higher ground.

He raised a wry eyebrow, the low words warm against her face.

"I thought we agreed we weren't going to do this any more?"

"We did," she conceded with a playful pout, drawing the pad of her thumb across his lips. "But you're rather good at it, and I figured – why break up an effective partnership."

"Quinn, you know I –"

"Yeah I know," she dismissed, a little impatiently. "Don't worry. If you want to be the champion of lost causes, go nuts. But why deny yourself a little harmless pleasure in the meantime? I mean, I can think of worse ways to release all that pent up frustration." Pressing close, she dropped a light kiss to the base of his throat, brushing her mouth over his neck before moving up to his jaw, smirking against his skin as she felt his hand clench around hers in a betrayal of restraint. "Unless of course," she baited with a teasing smile, "you're not enjoying yourself?"

What Quinn didn't say... was that she kinda missed him. Not in an achy-breaky-heart way or anything, but she had to admit that it'd been nice having a confidant and ally again, however unorthodox it was. He'd been keeping his distance since his fight with Rachel before Sectionals, and there was no denying the days felt a little longer and lonelier now. Plus she wasn't lying either. Their little foray into casual physicality had been more than mildly pleasurable, and she certainly wasn't adverse to keeping that particular door open. She was only human, after all.

She could feel the sharp edge in his kiss when his mouth caught hers again, the surrender to reckless desperation that was over almost as quickly as it began. A frustrated exhale brushed her lips as she felt him break contact again, albeit very reluctantly.

"Except it's not harmless," he muttered with some effort, as if the truth of his words pained him.

He dropped his chin and closed his eyes with a grimace, familiar bitterness etched into his expression. It was a moment before he spoke again, during which time she suspected he was doggedly rebuilding the walls of his willpower; submitting to misplaced guilt to control the more selfish impulses of his nature.

"There's a fine line between provoking a reaction and deliberately hurting her," he said at last. His face was turned away, frowning at thoughts only he could see. His chest heaved under her palm, a wretched sigh that vibrated through her body like the opening note of a mourning dirge. "And I think I crossed it."

"Hardly for the first time."

A shadow moved over his face, tightening his features and darkening his eyes with a cascade of memories she wasn't privilege to, even as he answered her observation with sullen silence. Quinn sat back with a resigned look, brow furrowing softly as she considered the boy in front of her.

"I did warn you," she pointed out, almost gently.

He scowled at the unwelcome reminder, but his heart wasn't in it and he soon looked away with a deep breath, slumping a little lower in his seat. Poor boy looked utterly miserable. Quinn rolled her eyes to herself.

As much as a repeat performance of that night would have been desirable, she did reluctantly understand that it just wasn't an option for him any more. And while it was unclear what would come next, it seemed that she was too involved to quit the game now. The former Cheerio shook her head in bemusement. She'd had fair warning from the boy himself, but even so, she still hadn't expected things to turn out quite this way. She hadn't expected to care.

"Look, we pushed her as far as we can and it still didn't crack that prison chain." Quinn spoke bluntly but not unkindly, the cut green glass of her eyes sharp with something like curious concern. "Why are you still here? To steal kisses under the veil of amateur dramatics? Do you think flagellating yourself is an atonement that will be appreciated?"

"I tried running before," he said, his tone somehow flat and despondent at the same time. "That didn't work either. The least I can do is try. See this year out and hope it's enough to finally move on - for better or worse."

She sighed, examining him with an almost sympathetic gaze. "You really love her, don't you?"

He made a small strangled noise that could have once been a laugh. Like the hysterics of an inmate who still had enough clarity to realise that they were now stuck in the asylum forever. He rested his forehead on her exposed collarbone with a muffled groan. "It'll be the death of me."

Quinn touched a hand to his ruffled hair, smiling sadly as she felt his broken breath against her skin. It was painfully obvious that there was a line he wouldn't cross now, but that didn't mean they couldn't still enjoy the race to the finish.

"Well, if you insist on torturing and denying yourself, I suppose the least I can do is offer a little comfort. No reason we all should suffer alone."

The lot of them were stuck in the McKinley loony bin together for a bit longer yet after all. If the relief of a little human touch was all the could give him, then she'd offer it gladly. Quinn mentally grimaced at her own thoughts. She was getting soft.

Jesse raised his head and met her eyes carefully, searching her gaze for confirmation of the unspoken caveat of this new agreement. He seemed assured by whatever he found in her face, his features slowly relaxing into that smug smile she recognised well.

"Who knew you were such a soul of generosity. The patron saint of hopeless pilgrims."

"Hmm," she agreed, her lips twitching in a mutual grin. "Of course, even sainthood has a price."

"Is that so? Well, I'm sure I can scrape together a little donation."

Quinn laughed, wrapping her fingers around his shirt collar as she breathed the words against his jawbone. "Now who's the generous one?"

He raised an eyebrow in amusement, his hand lifting to stroke her neck. "Some things are best enjoyed in moderation."

"Perhaps. But you know what they say misery loves... "

The rest of her sentence was lost in the warm press of her mouth on his and Jesse couldn't help but whole heartedly agree with the unfinished sentiment.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a soft warning echoed in that familiar silky voice, dark eyes flashing with an authority that had never tolerated undue provocation. Tightening his grip on the girl in his lap, Jesse deepened the kiss with a surge of wilful rebellion, feeling almost high with the rush of defiance. Fuck Shelby and her demands. He wasn't hers to control and coerce any more.

He felt Quinn pull back just enough to break to kiss, slightly breathless at the sudden fierceness of his hold.

"Not having second thoughts are you?" she teased, laying a calming palm against his chest in point.

"Sorry," he muttered, pushing a hand through his hair in an effort to hide the tension that bubbled through him. He gave a dark chuckle. "My head's a bit all over the place still."

Yeah, no kidding. Quinn eyed him shrewdly for a moment before gently uncoiling herself and dropping into the seat beside him. He sighed but let her go, a rueful smile tightening his lips as he watched her settle herself cross legged on the worn velvet. She lifted her head and met his gaze with a mischievous glint.

"You know, in all the furore about your kiss, I almost forgot to tell you the other piece of New Directions gossip."

He gave her a look that indicated he really wasn't in the mood to hear about the petty politics and relationship drama of her team right now, but she shushed him with a raised hand.

"No, trust me, you'll appreciate this."

"Okay then, dazzle me."

She grinned widely, clearly extremely amused by whatever titbit she was about to impart.

"So apparently, Mr. Schue has decided on his best man for the wedding. And it's none other than our own favourite man-child, Finn Hudson."

Jesse blinked blankly for a moment, unable to process any thought in response except for: What. The. Actual. Fuck. He stared at her for an incredulous beat, before they both abruptly burst out laughing. Wasn't that just the utterly absurd cherry on the cake of their incestuous little family.

"Well," he remarked dryly, catching Quinn's eye again after they'd both calmed down again. "That's not at all creepy and inappropriate. Am I the only one who increasingly suspects that Schuester escaped from an unfinished episode of 'How To Catch A Predator'?"

Quinn smacked his arm, even as she succumbed to another fit of laughter.

/o/

"Can we talk?"

Rachel jerked up in surprise as her boyfriend's imposing form suddenly materialised beside her locker, hating the way her heart twinged with guilt at the sound of his voice. She had no reason to feel guilty! Except, maybe, for avoiding him for most of the day. But then again, she'd been avoiding pretty much everyone. She quickly covered her slip with a perky smile, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting.

"Of course," she assured needlessly, before turning back to stuff the last of her textbooks into her bag. "It's just I've got vocal training tonight and I need to get home and have a rushed dinner first. Can I call you after class?"

"I'd rather speak now, it won't take long."

Forcing herself to meet his face properly, Rachel felt a lead weight of worry sink through her chest at his unusually solemn expression. She managed to nod, mutely following his lead as he led them into an empty classroom just next to the school doors, the same doors that she had so nearly escaped through tonight without having to have this awkward conversation. She should have just left the textbooks.

Stepping just inside the doorway, she barely had time to turn around to face him before he spoke.

"Is it true?"

It was probably futile to play dumb, the whole student body seemed to be talking about it, but she might try anyway. Adjusting the bag straps over her shoulders, she plastered a benign smile on her face, keeping her tone light and innocent, desperate to side-step the whole sorry affair.

"Is what true?"

Finn's expression was oddly blank, though she could see the pinch of anger at the corner of his mouth.

"Did he kiss you?"

Well at least he got the emphasis the right way around. She most certainly didn't initiate it. But you didn't break it either. Rachel shook her head, more to dislodge the reprimanding voice but also in answer to his rhetorical question.

"No! I mean... well, yes... but it was for the play! We were rehearsing!"

God, she never thought she'd use a line like that in real life.

Finn looked equally unconvinced at her weak excuse, as true as it might be. Though she suspected Jesse could have been giving her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and her boyfriend would still challenge his motives. Rachel stepped forward and grasped his hand, holding tight to his large fingers as she cycled through all the justifications that she had been working on all day.

"Okay, it was stupid to go along with it, but it didn't mean anything. It was just a stage kiss – just like with Blaine!"

Rachel inwardly winced even as she said it, knowing there was no way she could convince herself, let alone Finn, that a kiss with her gay best friend was anything like a kiss with her notorious ex. Grinding her teeth together, she mentally cursed Jesse again for the hundredth time since that damned rehearsal had ended. What the hell had he been playing at, pulling a stunt like that? What the hell had she been thinking to even let it get that far?

Finn was staring down at their hands, making no move to pull away but not returning the squeeze of her fingers either.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he said at last, still not looking up at her face, though the reproach in his tone broke through loud and clear. "Why did I have to hear it from some guys on the football team?"

Rachel opened her mouth soundlessly before quickly shutting it again, finding that words alone just weren't enough to appease the wretchedness that filled her. Stepping closer she raised her other hand to his cheek, silently begging him to meet her eyes, to see just how sorry she was. "I-I should have, I'm sorry. But it really didn't mean anything and I didn't want to upset you over nothing!"

"Nothing," Finn repeated humourlessly. She saw his jaw clench with familiar resentment and reflexively tightened her hold on him. Rachel knew just how deep his animosity with Jesse ran, fuelling an already mistrustful and antagonistic relationship between the two members of the club. The last thing they needed was another Babygate throw down. It frustrated her no end that this rivalry just wouldn't die. She'd picked him. How many times did she have to remind Finn of that?

To her surprise, the fight seemed to abruptly deflate out of him. "It's never 'nothing' when it comes to that jerk. I don't know exactly what's going on – "

"Nothing is going on!" she interrupted frantically, missing the ironic quirk of his lips at her choice of words.

Finn raised his head, bitter sadness lining his eyes as they finally met hers. "Rach, everyone in the club is practically choking on the tension between you two."

" I – "

"It's okay," he cut her off somewhat roughly, looking very much like everything was decidedly not okay, but he pushed on regardless and Rachel suspected this was something he had decided to say long before he sought her out at her locker. "I don't blame you," he said, leaving it implicit as to who he most definitely did blame. "But it needs to stop. And I think the only way that's going to happen is if we... we take a break."

Rachel felt the air go out of her lungs, her hands falling away from him as she backed up a step, retreating from the implication of his words.

"W-What are you saying?"

He was... breaking up with her? Again?

Finn sighed deeply, as if he was as pained at the prospect as her. "I think you need to take some time. Put things to rest." He shrugged a little, his shoulders heavy. "I'm pissed off about Quinn and Jesse too. But you seem, I dunno, kinda heartbroken about it."

"That's not – "

"Look, I think I need a little space too. To figure out how we get past this."

"Why can't we do that together?" she demanded, desperate to keep her last tether to certainty intact. He just couldn't cut her adrift like this! Rachel felt blind-sided by the truck of old fears and insecurities that crashed into her, hurling backwards into a past she thought she had finally left behind.

He was eyeing her with a rare look of determination, his mind made up. "Because I want my girlfriend back, and you need to find her again."

"I'm still... me," she almost whispered, unwilling to admit just how truly lost she felt.

"Rachel, no matter what you say, that kiss is a problem. Maybe you should think about that too. When you figure out how you feel about everything, when you're ready to put us first again, we can talk."

Rachel could only stand and stare, frozen in place and at a loss for words for one of only a handful of times in her short life. She watched unblinkingly as her (ex) boyfriend slowly turned around and walked out the classroom, leaving her alone with her shock.

What the hell? He thought she wasn't putting them first? That was all she had ever done! She had chosen him time and time again, had returned to his side over and over – hadn't she proved herself enough? And now what? He wanted her to somehow magic away her all her unresolved feelings on her own, repackage herself in a neat and tidy girlfriend bundle with no messy loose ends, and then he might consider taking her back? Was her love really so much of a burden? Was she worth so little effort?

Angrily, Rachel swiped away the warm, wet tracks that had sprung from her eyes without permission. What an absolute fucking mess. He wanted to take a break? What did that even mean? A teary laugh escaped her at the random realisation that somehow she had ended up in a similar plot arc to her TV namesake. How was that for dramatic irony.

Rachel had no idea where this left her and Finn or where she went from here. But she was damn sure whose fault it all was. Her knuckles cracked in her fists, a dangerous gleam entering her eyes, as her confused distress settled on a rightful target.

She was going to kill that smug bastard.

~o~

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AN Okay, this was a ridiculously long chapter! (Now you see why it took me so long to update!) It's the trouble with trying to stick to one chapter per episode, let me know if the length is getting unreadable and I will rethink the structure somehow. If you made it to the end of this marathon update (bravo!), please spare two mins to leave a quick review? It feels a bit like shooting in the dark at the moment with limited feedback, I do rely on hearing from you guys to help guide my writing. And who knows, it might help me to update quicker ;) (Me? Bribery? Never.) I also recommend checking out Liza's version of 'Marriage is for Old Folks' on Spotify - it's a fun song and I could easily picture Rachel and Kurt having a blast with it. Thanks for reading, and extra good karma to those who take the time to review :)