Getting It Right – Solace In A Storm


"I'm telling you, I saw him."

"And I'm telling you, that's not his car."

"How the hell would you know?"

"It's pretty hard to miss the most expensive car in school."

Rachel clenched her jaw, gripping her fingers around the edge of her seat with white knuckles in all the effort it took to stop herself from passing comment. Or worse still – from getting up to look too. Her body was rigid in restraint, her head locked facing the front of the classroom as she tried valiantly to ignore the conversation of her teammates going on behind her.

"He's definitely not been back," Tina said, craning her neck to peer out the high rear windows, almost nudging Rory off his chair in the process. "Did anyone speak to Shelby?"

"Ditching us for the competition, huh? How very true to form."

"Shut up. You don't know that."

"Yeah right. It was inevitable. Once a traitor, always a trait – ow!"

Kurt elbowed Puck sharply in the ribs, casting a not-so-subtle look at the back of Rachel's head when the boy turned an angry scowl on him. Puck looked between the estranged friends with an irritated frown before shrugging it off and dropping back down into his seat again, knocking off Kurt's hat with a fly flick of his hand on the way.

There was a scuffle of feet and chairs as the others jumped down from the back of the classroom at the arrival of their teacher a moment later. A mixture of expressions met Will's eager smile as he strode into the choir room with a rare look of purpose, clapping his hands together in anticipation. However, he was interrupted before he got the chance to even begin the obligatory inspiring speech of the day.

"Mr. Schue, you haven't heard from Jesse, have you?" Blaine cast a quick look around his fellow teammates and cast members as he spoke, wary apprehension etched across his face. "That's two days now he's missed rehearsals."

Will faltered at the sombre tone of the question, confused and surprised that his team's thoughts should be so distracted when the first annual McKinley Mash-Off was only a few days away. He frowned, his answer hesitant.

"Well, no –"

"You don't think he's switched sides do you?" Tina asked anxiously. "He was Shelby's protégé after all, and the Troubletones seem determined to steal away as many of our assets as possible."

Rachel glanced over at that, her brows drawing together in soft curiosity. She was genuinely surprised by the nervous misgivings shared by her teammates at the prospect of Jesse's desertion. That they were actually capable of recognising his talent and the advantages he could offer them. They apparently appreciated his contribution more than they let on. Not that that was anything new, she thought tiredly. Her team never did admit praise unless it wrenched grudgingly from them at the last possible make-or-break moment. Still, it was intriguing and Rachel was quietly impressed that despite everything that had happened, despite all the lingering bad feeling – Jesse had still managed to forge a place and authority of respect for himself amongst the enemy.

That was an exceptional talent in itself, and she truly hadn't thought he possessed the commitment to pull off such a feat. A wry smile stirred on her lips. A boy of many masks indeed.

The smile quickly faded however, replaced with a familiar flutter of unease in her stomach. She may well resent it, but she couldn't help but feel distinctly troubled by his persistent no-show. Jesse was too much like her, and Rachel knew that he would never miss a rehearsal without a damn good reason. And that thought alone was enough to send her mind racing with worry. Still, the last thing she was going to do was voice such concerns out loud.

"No, trust me, he's around guys," Will assured, casting a firm look at them all in a way that was clearly meant to lay their doubts to rest and settle the point. "But we don't need him for this assignment –"

"We don't need him for anything," Finn grumbled under his breath.

Rachel frowned in exasperation but did her best to hide it. Sulking really wasn't her boyfriend's most attractive quality and yet it was becoming increasingly common around this subject. Okay, she had pretty much accepted that the animosity between Finn and Jesse was never going to completely go away. But while pride was one thing, she couldn't shake the feeling that Finn's behaviour was creeping towards just plain petty now, arguing just for the sake of it. And the general reaction of the team to Jesse's disappearance seemed to only annoy him further. Rachel could feel the tension in his arm that rested across her shoulders, could sense him shifting in his seat beside her like an agitated child, stewing with irritation.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she glanced away to her other side and glimpsed Quinn where she sat up the back of the classroom. The former Cheerio's head was lowered, the tips of her cropped hair brushing her bare shoulders and the cream pleats of her skirt barely skimming her knees as she neatly crossed her legs. Her gaze was cast down as she flicked through her phone with a bored expression, looking entirely unbothered by the ongoing conversation. Snapping her head to the front again, Rachel straightened up stubbornly, determined to drive her thoughts as far away from Jesse and his conspicuous absence as possible.

"Look guys, we have our work cut out for us this week with this mash up. Now, the Troubletones have a lot of powerful voices, so song selection is key here…"

Mr. Schue was talking in earnest now but Rachel wasn't really listening. As her teammates all proceeded to pipe up with various artist suggestions for the impending clash with their rivals, she had almost completely zoned out of the debate. Biting down on her lip, she tried to cast off the frustrating sense of disquiet – her gaze straying with a reluctant regularity to the empty chair at the end of the row.

/o/

The gymnasium felt cavernous in the quiet of the aftermath. All was still and calm now, falling under the restful spell of the fading evening light, the atmosphere almost melancholy in reflection. No more shouts or sickly thuds of impact, battle songs and jeers banished into silence once more, until only the soft squeak of solitary footsteps could be heard.

Kurt frowned as he kicked aside a stray dodge ball that had somehow escaped the clear up. It bounced harmlessly off the wall and proceeded to roll idly back to his feet, following after him like a lost dog in blatant disregard to his chagrin. Huffing under his breath and letting his bag drop to the floor, he bent down and scooped up their weapon of choice, giving it a look of venomous distaste as he did so. Standing again, he turned dutifully towards the storage cupboard, only to stop short as a flash of red caught his eye across the great hall.

He hesitated at the sight of the familiar figure that greeted him.

Her increasingly long raven hair had been pulled free from its pigtails and flowed loosely over her shoulders, her arms tucked under her knees almost protectively, as if she was trying to make herself as small as possible. She was still wearing their sports uniform as she sat alone up on the steps, gazing out onto the floor below with a distant expression, clearly lost in her thoughts – and not too happy ones by the look of it. Her brows were creased under the shadow of a raincloud and her teeth gently worried her lower lip in that distracted habit she had.

After a moment, she seemed to become aware of his gaze and glanced over in his direction, meeting his eyes for a brief moment across the court. The battle field that lay abandoned now, all expect for two wounded survivors. She quickly looked away again, seeming to slump a little lower over her knees.

Kurt sighed and resumed his path, shoving the last of the dodge balls into the bag and closing the equipment cupboard a little harder than he meant to. He saw her flinch out of the corner of his eye at the echoing bang, and mentally cursed himself. He wasn't trying to make her feel worse, he really wasn't. He was just frustrated. It felt like he was being torn between the demand of his pride and tug of his heart – and he was getting sick of it. He lowered his head, closing his eyes tiredly as their last conversation played through his mind again.

"I really miss you, Kurt. And I just… I really want to be your friend again."

"Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you walked all over me in your borderline sociopathic climb to the top."

He grimaced at the memory of the hurt that had covered her expression at his retort, as he took her olive branch and snapped it in front of her face before gleefully setting it on fire. Maybe Blaine was right. The truth was that Kurt really didn't like who this feud was turning him into.

Blowing out a grumpy breath, he rolled his eyes and spun on his heel. Rachel blinked as she watched him march across the gymnasium, stomping noisily up the rows of seats until he finally dropped down onto the bench behind her. She didn't turn around, nor did he speak. They merely sat in uneasy quiet for a long moment, Rachel apprehensive and still stung from his earlier brush off, Kurt not having thought out a plan much beyond this point.

He realised he was still glowering and made an effort to clear his expression, even though she couldn't see it from where she sat in front of him. He opened his mouth and then shut it again, irritated by his sudden lack of snappy dialogue and the sense of awkwardness that hovered in the air. He had never been very good at this sort of thing. It was a trait they shared.

She straightened up then and winced in the tentative gesture. Her hand strayed to her shoulder and squeezed in an effort to ease the twinge of pain, though she remained silent in her discomfort. Kurt frowned and reached for his bag where it sat at his feet, rummaging for a moment before deftly pulling out a small gel pack, no bigger than his palm. "Here," he muttered, cracking the pack in his hand and sweeping her hair aside.

Rachel felt a soothing heat begin to seep through her skin a moment later, radiating out from where he pressed his hand to the back of her shoulder. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth ease away the dull aching, relaxing the tension in more ways than one.

"You came prepared," she noted at last, raising her eyebrows.

Kurt shrugged. "You can't help but pick up a few things living with the school quarterback. Mainly that helmets do nothing for your hair and that there's a very fine line between a good tackle and felonious assault. And also that heat can sometimes be better than ice when it comes to muscle ache."

Rachel bit her lip in a smile. "Thanks," she mumbled.

They sat in quiet for a moment longer before he spoke again, a sincerity in his tone that was almost as warm as the pack on her skin. "You okay?"

"Just a bit sore," she admitted. "Those girls have a feral arm when it comes to power shots."

"Feral is right."

"Told you it would get brutal."

"Yeah," he said, and she could hear a familiar tease touching his voice. "I saw you protecting that precious schnoz of yours like it was the crown jewels."

"Hey, one broken nose was enough thank you," she retorted a little indignantly, flushing in embarrassment.

"Glad to hear it. It's your beauty trademark after all." He nudged her with pointed affection and she laughed, vividly reminded of the surreal tribute performance to her idol in a crowded mall so many months ago. The memory never failed to make her smile in its ridiculousness. He had gone to such lengths to bring back her self-confidence, knowing how to reach her in a way no-one else had. And of course he would do it through song – with a little help from Barbra, naturally.

Rachel was drawn from her reverie as another twinge shot through her neck, bringing her thoughts sharply back to the present. Her expression sobered as her eyes fell to the ground, wincing with a guilt that wasn't hers to carry.

"How's Rory?" she asked quietly.

She heard him sigh over her shoulder. "He's okay. Little shaken up but he'll live." She could just picture the frown of disapproval on his face as he carried on with fresh determination. "They really should ban that game. It's just an excuse to be violent and hound others in persecution."

"New campaign slogan?" she teased hesitantly.

"Maybe."

They retreated into silence then, both pulled into a bout of reluctant and painful memories. Finally, Kurt let out a deep breath in defeat, Blaine's words echoing in his ears with a persistent clarity and leading the mutiny over his better judgement. Damn that boy and his cripplingly eloquent insights.

"I miss you too."

His hand fell away from her shoulder as she turned around at his words, meeting his gaze with such nervous hope and scrutiny that he couldn't help but smile.

"You do?"

"Of course I do, you idiot," he muttered in exasperation. "Who else is going to break into a Broadway theatre with me? Be the Barbra to my Judy? Let me bitch and cry to my heart's content and sing ballads down the phone to me in the middle of the night? I miss your special brand of crazy so much it hurts."

Rachel rolled her eyes even as she beamed at him. "Oh, you romantic."

He smiled, catching her gaze with a warm, if grudging, contrition. "I'm sorry I was a dick before."

"I'm sorry too," she returned earnestly. "You know I didn't join the race to hurt you –"

"I know. I was just being a stubborn pill about it."

"Well, you might have had a bit of a point," Rachel conceded, lowering her gaze awkwardly. "Sometimes I get so lost in reaching for the top, in being the best I can possibly be, that I can overlook other people's feelings."

"Yes," he agreed with a long-suffering sigh, "but that's also one of your most admirable qualities and, frankly, you just wouldn't be Rachel Berry otherwise. And I'm afraid I'm simply doomed to adore you – warts and all."

She pulled a face. "Charming."

Kurt grinned, before shrugging his shoulders. "Besides, maybe I'm a little guilty of that too."

"Hmm, maybe," she teased.

"I suppose there's nothing wrong with a little healthy competition," he declared magnanimously, holding out a hand of truce. However, Rachel ignored it and instead grabbed him into a hug with so much force that they almost toppled over on the benches.

"I missed your crazy too," she mumbled, pressing her smile into his shoulder. "You're the only one who can make me look normal by comparison."

"You wish," Kurt retorted, squeezing her tight in their fierce embrace. "And I'm still gonna beat you."

Rachel laughed, her heart feeling truly light for the first real time in what felt like weeks.

/o/

The rhythmic tap of the pencil against her notepad echoed her restlessness as she sighed and flipped the sheet music over. Adding it to the stack to her left, she reached for another one from the extensive pile she had brought to the table. Raising her head she cast a furtive look over to the checkout desk, hoping she hadn't pushed her luck too far despite knowing how the staff favoured her. She had pretty much hijacked this entire section of the library after all. Yet she had become such a regular over the past year or so that she was afforded an indulgence most other patrons did not receive. It was still the best place to come for research, and one of her favourite haunts by far. A soft smile crossed her lips as she let her gaze roam over the shelves around her, stacked high to the ceiling with every genre of music imaginable. There was just such a sense of comfort here.

However, the smile slipped as her eyes wandered unwillingly back to the old, worn piano that sat in the centre of the open floor. It was quiet now, merely a prop of interest once more, and yet Rachel shivered at the whisper of music that filled her head. The first time their voices had ever met in song, the first time he had spoken her name with that arrogant lilt in his voice and knowing smile on his lips, an alluring ambiguity that had intrigued her from the start. The first time she had felt such a raw familiarity of instinct under their duet, the first time she had held his eyes and forgotten how to breathe for just a moment. Where, under orders, he had found his unsuspecting ingénue and their whole wretched story had begun. The opening act of seduction in their own Shakespearean tragedy.

Shaking away the painful memories that haunted her sanctuary, Rachel returned her attention to the sheet music that lay in front of her, examining them with a frown of concentration that was bordering on impatience. She had been tucked away at this corner table for the better part of an hour as she worked her way studiously through an array of music books, picking up tips and scouting for inspiration, and yet had made little progress in a plan of action for their upcoming mash up. She wasn't really a fan of Hall & Oates and she just knew that they would need to up their game considerably in order to beat Shelby – who would make sure that the Troubletones were nothing less than a lethal machine of tight co-ordination and vocals. Rachel knew what Finn was trying to say but… She sighed in weary frustration. Glee wasn't just about fun and making pithy comments through random song selection. This was still a competition, interschool or not, and they needed to take it seriously.

A hesitant frown slowly crossed her face, a dulled pain echoing in her eyes, as her thoughts reluctantly lingered over their rival glee club coach. Her gaze strayed to the school bag that sat beside her, to the college application that lay within, neatly completed and ready to be sent off. Well, almost. That troublesome recommendation letter was weighing far too heavily on her mind, taunting her with indecision, and time was running out.

She still hadn't given it to Shelby, and to be honest she wasn't sure if she ultimately would. The truth was that things were still silently strained in that particular relationship, the distance between them crowded with words and tensions that they could never seem to reach through. While both went to great effort to cover the enduring awkwardness around each other, it mainly consisted of talking a lot and yet saying nothing of any substance. After all, it was mutually accepted that they had to co-exist for the time being and it made sense to try and make it as painless as possible.

Rachel let out a deep breath, twiddling the pencil between her fingers as she argued stubbornly with herself. She knew that Shelby was the best and most obvious choice, she was a national champion choir coach after all and her recommendation would hold a lot of sway. Getting into NYADA was what mattered, was more important than whatever conflicted feelings she may harbour. But somehow, Rachel just couldn't bring herself to ask her for it. She told herself she was being stupid, talking herself in and out of it so many times that she was getting a headache. The letter was already written, all Shelby had to do was sign it. The whole encounter would probably take less than a minute. That wasn't more than she could handle. Yet, it just didn't feel right when there was still so much unresolved between them. It was frustrating and upsetting and ground inside Rachel's mind like rusty gears. A cog that would never fit.

She was abruptly snapped from her melancholy thoughts by the bursting chords of Broadway Baby. Crap, she had totally forgotten to put it on vibrate. Scrambling for her bag, she hastily pulled out her cell phone, cutting off Bernadette Peters' enviable pipes with a silent apology.

"Hey," she greeted in a hushed voice, doing her best to avoid attracting further attention towards her corner. However the person at the other end was unconcerned with any preamble, coming straight to the point.

"You didn't drop out of the race for me, did you?"

Nice to know he was still as blunt and tactless as ever. She could hear the resentment in his tone, and just knew how pissed off he was. She hadn't even made it official yet but she should have known that Blaine was the wrong person to confide in about it. That boy was such a gossip. She rolled her eyes.

"Of course not. You know me better than that. Besides, you'd kill me if I tried to throw you a pity vote."

"Quite right," he agreed emphatically, making her smile. There was a pause and she could hear his tone softening when he spoke again. "So…why then?"

Rachel shrugged, sighing as she tried to explain. "I just realised that I had enough on my plate. There was a serious danger of over-stretching myself and I just couldn't risk the possibility of my performance in the musical suffering. Not to mention all the work involved in taking on that starring solo at Nationals."

"Excuse me? Can you say jumping the gun?"

"Oh, you know it's inevitable. Learn to be gracious about it."

Kurt laughed and she grinned, revelling in the sound she had missed so much.

"Besides," she went on, "I know it…it means more to you."

"You mean as more than just another accolade on a college transcript? Yeah."

Rachel pursed her lips but held back the retort, knowing she deserved the dig and willing to let it go. This time.

"You'd better work your ass off to get into NYADA," she told him firmly, leaving no room for doubt on the subject. "There will be a very Kurt Hummel sized hole in my New York dreams otherwise. It just won't be the same without you."

"Oh, I'll be there," he assured, grinning through the phone. "Someone has to keep an eye on you."

Rachel smiled but was soon forced to bid goodbye, noticing the looks of disapproval some of the other patrons were casting her way. Kurt promised to call her later before the friends dutifully hung up and Rachel slipped her phone away again. As her stomach growled hungrily, she suddenly realised how close to dinner time it must be. Deciding to give up the research for the day, she gathered up the various books and music sheets and set about returning them to the shelves.

Hoisting her bag onto her shoulder, she turned for home, nodding to the staff behind the counter as she did. Her steps slowed as she passed the piano however, the familiar instrument drawing her gaze against her will as lost whispers echoed through her mind. She paused only to let her hand wander along the surface, brushing her fingers over the ivory keys almost affectionately, before she caught herself and quickly moved away. Pressing her lips together, she nearly knocked into several people as she rushed out of the library, as if desperate to outrun the ghosts of her own mind.

/o/

The bar was busy for the evening, dark and noisy with the press of people, and he drank in the mindless chat and laughter with a sense of bitter gratefulness. The last thing he wanted was to dwell on his own thoughts right now, which were anything but kind and forgiving. Some top 40 hit was playing in the background, barely audible over the murmur of voices. Someone knocked his shoulder as they pushed past but he barely noticed, not even sparing a glance up at the slurred apology that was muttered. Pushing aside the empty beer bottle, he picked up the glass under his hand and knocked the contents back in one shot, grimacing as the acid tongue of liquor burned down his throat. Jesse loathed tequila, always had, but it seemed as good a poison as any.

Dropping the glass back down to the counter, he signalled to the bartender with a lazy flick of his hand. His phone was quiet in his pocket but that was hardly a surprise. He only ever gave his number out to a select few and he wasn't expecting to hear from any of them after recent events. He was pretty much past the point of caring right now anyway, concerned only with getting lost in the crowd for once. And while mixing with the masses was hardly his favourite pastime, he had always known how to drop off the radar when it suited him.

He didn't bother to look up as the bartender finally worked his way over to him to take his order, however he did stir when he heard his name spoken in something like friendly surprise.

"Jesse St. James?"

He frowned at the young guy in front of him, trying to place his face as he was clearly meant to know him, judging by the familiarity in his tone. The bartender flashed a toothy grin as he refilled the shot glass, clearing away the empties before cocking his head like a puzzled dog as he studied Jesse with fresh interest.

"Man, I never thought I'd see you back in Ohio."

Recognition flickered dimly in the back of Jesse's mind. He could vaguely recall meeting this guy before back in Carmel, probably quite a few times. He had been the boyfriend of one of the girls in VA, if memory served him right. Dan? Sam? He gave up, dismissing it with a mental shrug. He couldn't even blame it on the alcohol; he'd never paid much attention to those he didn't strictly have to.

"Yeah, you and me both."

The guy regarded him curiously as he continued to work. "So what are you doing here? Besides drowning your sorrows," he added wryly, gesturing towards the shot glass he had just poured out.

"Honestly?" A mirthless smile tugged Jesse's lips. "I have no fucking idea."

His old acquaintance offered what Jesse assumed was supposed to be a sympathetic look. "Let me guess, some girl break your heart or something?"

A grim smile tightened his lips. "Or something." He tipped his glass in the bartender's direction. "To your health, huh?" Swallowing down the shot without so much as a flinch, he dropped a few notes onto the bar and stood up to leave.

"Hey, Jesse –"

He spared a glance over his shoulder as he heard his name called. There was a shadow of concern in the other guy's eyes as they met his.

"You gonna be alright, man?"

"I always am," Jesse muttered under his breath as he walked away.

/o/

He probably shouldn't have driven, but he didn't much care at that moment. Hell, he'd done stupider things, he reflected bitterly.

She answered the door on the second knock, before stepping back slightly at the sight that greeted her. She was surprised to see him, he could tell, although she was quick to control the reaction.

"What are you doing here?"

He ignored the question, instead striding past her and into the house. He swept a cursory glance over the rooms beyond as he spoke, not meeting her eyes.

"Where's your mom?"

"Out for the night," she answered slowly, frowning.

"Good," he murmured in a low voice.

Her frown deepened but before she could inquire any further, he turned and abruptly crushed his mouth to hers, fusing them together in the exploding heat of a desperation that had finally broken to the surface. The kiss was recklessly hard and rough and unlike anything she had experienced from him so far, the force of his actions catching her off guard before she could even voice an opinion to the sudden and aggressive move. His arms snaked around her body, yanking her close against him, his fingers gripping into the roots of her hair as her mouth parted willingly for him, a liberty he exploited to full advantage. Quinn could taste the sharp tang of alcohol in his kiss, but the focus of his grip on her body suggested he was more than lucid enough to take ownership of his actions. She wasn't sure which thought unsettled her more.

She moaned into his mouth, the pressure becoming painful. Winding her own fingers into his hair, she used the leverage to break the kiss, forcing their lips apart just enough to replenish the sudden lack of air in her lungs.

"Is this you getting even?" she demanded when she could find her voice again, trying to pull back enough to meet his eyes but he wouldn't let her.

His hands worked their way under the silk of her shirt, digging in hard to the small of her back and trapping her firmly against him. "Do you care?" he challenged, his breath harsh across her lips. Their faces were so close they were touching, along with every other part of their bodies. Quinn gasped at the wandering path of his fingers, her eyes fluttering shut, blinding her in the split moment before he caught her mouth again in a bruising kiss.

No, she didn't. He was right. What she did care about though was getting knocked up again. She'd been there, done that, and it was an experience she didn't want to revisit anytime soon. She had learnt her lesson when it came to crucial oversights made in the heat of the moment, and it was a risk she wasn't prepared to take again – no matter how intoxicating the temptation.

As his hands slid over her hips and hers travelled down his chest, she broke the frantic fervour of their kiss once more. "I don't have any –"

"I do."

She raised an eyebrow with a reproving smile. "Ever the opportunist."

He smirked, drawing her mouth back to his to utter the retort against her lips. "Ever the cheerleader."

"So much for redemption, huh?" she breathed huskily, arching her back as he pulled her into him, his mouth slipping lower on her neck to leave fresh wounds over the raw skin. Not that she was complaining, far from it.

Jesse gave a tight shrug, the words burning across her throat like a desert breeze. "We're all going to hell anyway. May as well enjoy the ride."

Quinn grasped the back of his head as he tugged down the collar of her shirt, dragging his lips over the bare skin of her shoulder. There was a brimming tension in his muscles, a fierce bite to his kiss, and she knew that he had finally breached the breaking point of his endurance. She could feel the conflicting emotions crashing within him, the tremor of each heartbreaking collision spreading out through his roving touch. He held her fast to him, a willing captive, the only one able to share such a twisted brand of destruction. They were already falling. She didn't know what made her say it, but she found herself murmuring the fateful words all the same.

"You know she'll never forgive us."

It was a statement, not a question. And it was one he didn't want to hear tonight.

A frustrated, almost angry sound rose from his throat. "Do you really want to talk about this?" he demanded, knotting his fingers so tightly in her hair that she bit back a wince. He grazed his lips up her throat in a dangerous tease. "Because I can think of far better activities for my mouth right now."

Quinn shivered at the smoky promise in his voice, knowing she wouldn't refuse him even if she had wanted to. If he wanted to burn his bridges, that was his business.

"Then put your money where your mouth is," she returned, rising to the challenge with a toying glint in her eyes.

She yanked on his shirt as his mouth fell on hers once more, quickly stripping him of his jacket as they all but tumbled into her bedroom. Her shirt followed his, their mouths barely breaking contact as Jesse pushed them over to the bed. The familiar relief of physicality took over his senses and for a moment he was aware of nothing but the heat of her body, the gloss of her lips and scent of her skin. He dropped his mouth to kiss the swell of her breasts, peeling away the layers between them as her hands fumbled with his jeans, pulling him down over her as they sunk into the bed.

However, the reprieve didn't last long.

Jesse clenched his eyes shut, almost growling under his breath as he violently slammed a door on the traitorous memories that flooded persistently through his mind. Impossibly warm and dark eyes delving into his, the soft silk of her hair beneath his fingers, the secret tease of her song in his ear – each lost sensation broke through his body like a crippling blow, compounding the brutal ache between his ribs. The whisper of her voice and touch almost seemed to pull at his shoulders, gliding across his skin sorrowfully – begging him back, entreating him away.

And he hated it. His shoulders shook with the effort, trembling with resentment. She had no fucking right to be there in his mind, fuelling the guilt and reproach in his heart. Not after what she'd done. What did it even matter anymore…

No.

Jesse gritted his teeth with pained anger and roughly let go of his thoughts, pouring everything instead into his body and the girl with him. Anything to distract him, to grant him an absolution, however fucked up it was. Tilting his head, he caught Quinn's lips again and didn't let go, deaf to the howls of his heart as it bucked and burned in protest.

/o/

Rachel couldn't remember the last time her room was so tidy.

She had been compulsively cleaning and sorting and organising every drawer, file and shelf in her bedroom ever since she had finished dinner over three hours ago. Seeing as how this was an activity she only ever attacked with such fervour when she was particularly worried and stressed, she didn't want to think too much about what this said of her current state of mind.

Sitting at her desk, she was halfway through reorganising the playlists in her iTunes library for second time, when Bernadette Peters piped up again. Jumping up, Rachel rushed over and snatched the cell phone from the covers of her bed, flipping it open before she even had a chance to glance at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me."

Rachel felt her heart drop in her chest, despite the wonderfully familiar and sorely missed voice that filled her ears. The feeling of uneasy guilt that had been hovering over her for the past few days swept back in again like a blanket of oppressive grey clouds. She just couldn't seem to shake the anxious energy that hounded her, an undefined restlessness she couldn't quite place, and it made her fingers itch with the sudden urge to re-categorise her audition set list collection. However, she suppressed this ridiculous compulsion and quickly mustered an appropriate reply.

"Oh…Yeah, hi."

"As I try not to be offended by the abject disappointment in your voice –" Rachel rolled her eyes at his wounded sigh. In an affectionate sort of way. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"No," she said hastily. "Not really."

"Let me guess, Finn said he'd call and then totally forgot again. Want me to go smack him over the head?"

"No!"

"Really, it's no problem," Kurt assured. "He's just downstairs making an oh-so-culinary cheese toastie. He'll never even see it coming. Maybe he'll even snort juice through his nose again. That was pretty funny."

Rachel laughed, flopping back on the bed and settling down into her usual position she adopted for their nightly chats. Oh, how she'd missed him.

"No, leave the poor boy alone would you?"

"Honey, you know he's useless when there's a game on TV. Don't take his chronic attention span personally."

"I'm fine, honestly. Just a little distracted, but I'm all ears now, I promise."

"Good. Because I've got hot gossip – fresh out of the teacher's lounge."

Rachel raised an eyebrow, sitting up a little straighter in anticipation. "You know, one day you're going to have to tell me who your mole is in the faculty."

"Never," he replied airily, before quickly resuming his story. "Anyway, rumour has it that news has reached Figgins of the so-called 'slap heard round McKinley' – and that he's none too happy about Santana expressing her emotions quite so vigorously on school grounds. Never mind the litany of verbal assault that's been flying around lately, but this he takes issue with. Jeez, if Santana's insults could draw blood, she would have been arrested by now. Word is there's talk of suspension."

"What?"

"Yeah, apparently we don't tolerate physical abuse at this school," Kurt muttered sarcastically.

"He can't be serious," she exclaimed indignantly, her sense of injustice bristling. "After everything Karofsky did to you last year, Figgins finally decides to get tough on one lash out between friends provoked by an emotional crisis? That's such bullshit."

"Tell me about it. The double standards in our lives shift so much it gives me whiplash. It's like our school legislation is scripted anew each week by a bunch of lazy, dumbass, dope smoking, network writers. As if Santana doesn't have enough to deal with right now."

"Yeah," she mumbled quietly, feeling awkward in her sympathy. As much as she might feel for the cheerleader, it still felt a little uncomfortable to admit it out loud. The fact remained that the girl hadn't exactly made her high school life a pleasant experience. But still…Santana didn't deserve the hell she was putting herself through. The memory of the furtive date she had stumbled upon in BreadstiX suddenly rose through her mind. She had always known Santana was fiercely protective of Brittany, but Rachel had never seen such unconcealed warmth and devotion in the cheerleaders as when they looked at each other. And for some reason, it made her heart ache just a bit.

"You knew, didn't you," she said at last.

"Of course," he answered immediately. "But I never spoke to her about it. Maybe I should have…" he admitted hesitantly, and she could hear the remorse of uncertainty in his voice. "But it was her call to make and I didn't want to make her uncomfortable. I would never push something like that on someone else."

Rachel nodded absently, mentally bracing herself as she suspected she knew what Kurt was going to say next. She wasn't disappointed as she heard him sigh heavily.

"Finn shouldn't have done that."

The truth was that Rachel agreed. Despite all her conflicting feelings towards the Cheerio, she hated the thought of someone being forced into something so personal. She never liked to see anyone hurting, suffering for who they were. No-one deserved that. And yet, she still heard herself trying to defend her boyfriend's actions. She nestled the phone in the crook of her shoulder, trying to ignore the feeling of obligation that weighed down her words.

"She was going after him pretty hard. He just… snapped."

"That's no excuse," Kurt said firmly. "He has no idea what kind of damage that kind of outing can cause. He acted no better than a bully when he decided to stoop to such tactics."

"It's not a big deal," Rachel tried to argue, though her conviction was weak and forced. "No-one even cares…"

"She cares. It's a big deal for her. It's her life and she has the right to handle it her own way. Finn should have respected that, no matter how provoked he was. He should have appreciated what it meant for her." She could sense Kurt frowning through the phone, his words heavy with an intimacy of pain he could relate with only too well. "Coming out is hard enough. If you're not ready, if it's forced upon you… No-one should have to go through that. He had no right to take that choice away from her. And there are better places than a school corridor for venting some frustration."

Rachel stayed silent, unable to disagree with him. She knew that he and Blaine were mad at Finn, and it was a struggle not to take sides. So she tried changing the subject.

"Well, it'll cause no end of trouble if she does get suspended. Not to mention, it'll totally screw us for the musical. We can't do West Side Story without an Anita. And no-one does fierce and fiery Latina attitude quite like Santana."

"We might be screwed anyway if Jesse doesn't come back," Kurt muttered.

Rachel felt that hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach again. An unnamed ache rocked her somewhere deep inside, as if she had been dropped from a sickening height and forgotten to brace for the impact. She asked before she could stop herself. "Have you seen him?"

"No-one has. Not since he stormed off, prima donna style, the other day. He's just dropped off the map. Think he's bailed on us."

Rachel winced. It went against every rational judgement in her mind, but the truth was that it was a prospect she really didn't want to entertain. The wounds were still too raw from the last time, and she wasn't sure how much more of his toing and froing in and out of her life she could endure. The thought of him leaving, taking off again…

"He better turn up for tomorrow's rehearsal," Kurt grumbled. "I never thought I'd say this, but no-one trains vocals better than he does. I don't think I can take another rehearsal of Miss Pillsbury dancing along in her seat and Coach Beiste trying not to cry through every duet. The standards of the song performances are suffering."

Rachel was quiet, nodding but not really listening anymore. Lowering her gaze, she fiddled with a loose thread on her bed socks, chewing her lip in worried thought. She knew that Jesse had never been easy to read, shifting seamlessly from one mask to the next, but she couldn't help wishing she just had some idea of what was going on in his head.

/o/

Quinn cried out sharply as wave after wave of painful pleasure crashed through her, tensing her body and arching her hips off the bed. Her hands clenched tight into his shoulders, which were equally stiff, the firm muscles knotted in strain as he tumbled over the edge with her a moment later. She grasped at the covers, thrashing out blindly, oblivious to the thud of her clock as it was knocked off its stand and hit the floor.

"Fuck me," he heaved in a ragged breath as they broke the tide together, shudders wracking them both in the aftermath before they collapsed down into the sheets again.

"I thought I was," she teased breathlessly, struggling to catch her voice again.

Jesse smirked, his mouth hovering over hers, and for a second she thought he would kiss her again. But he didn't. Turning away, he dropped his head onto her shoulder, breathing heavily and letting the taste of her damp skin drown out the aches of his empty heart. For a moment, he just drifted in the blank bliss of pure adrenaline that washed over his body. The anger and bitterness would return, he knew that, but he just didn't have the strength to face it now. Selfish regret was nothing he wasn't used to anyway, he thought darkly.

He could feel her chest pitching erratically under his as she slowly regained her breath, her legs still wrapped tight around his hips, and a knowing smile flickered on his lips.

"Abstinence club my ass."

"You know about that?"

He grinned at the note of surprise in her voice, his hand moving to her thigh to deftly disentangle them. Pulling off her, he turned onto his back and settled lower down on the bed. The distance between their bodies was slight but definite, a subtle line that both accepted implicitly. "I have my ways," he remarked at last. "And so do you," he teased, tilting his head to throw a sly look up at her. "You don't learn tricks like that at bible studies."

She smiled innocently. "I read a lot of Cosmo."

"Yeah right."

Quinn laughed and let her head fall back against the pillows, stretching out her sore muscles experimentally. She had really underestimated the power of angry sex, even if the anger wasn't directed at her. A satisfied smile drew her lips. For once, she got to reap the benefits of someone else's mistakes. She closed her eyes, panting softly as she slumped limply against the bed, her body heaving as she strained to regulate her heartbeat to within normal parameters again. She couldn't help but feel a bit bad for Rachel. Girl had no idea what she was missing out on. Still, her loss was Quinn's gain – however temporarily.

Jesse cast his gaze about lazily, taking in their surroundings properly for the first time. "So this is Quinn Fabray's bedroom, huh? Interesting. Prom queen meets punk rebel."

She shrugged. "I'm in transition."

"Aren't we all."

The quiet that fell between them was easy and unassuming, both languishing in the sweet exhaustion and taking the time to recover their strength. Finally, Quinn shifted, rolling over to slide open her bedside drawer. Jesse raised an eyebrow as he heard the familiar click of a lighter.

"Thought you'd given up."

Quinn settled back down with a sigh. "They don't call it addiction for nothing."

"Very true," he murmured. Reaching over, he idly stole the cigarette from her fingers and brought it to his lips.

"Why don't you just buy your own?" she asked with a pinch of bored irritation.

Jesse smirked. "I'm an opportunist, remember?"

He heard her let out a disgruntled breath and smiled as he took another drag. Exhaling deeply, he dropped his hand to his chest, watching the delicate trail of smoke that rose up and wound into the air. He mentally rolled his eyes to himself. What a cliché.

"So why do you let them get to you so much?"

He frowned, his knuckles clenching subtly around the cigarette. "You think I'm upset?"

"No, I think you came all the way over to my house and wrestled me into bed because you're perfectly fine." At his sullen silence, she let out a sigh, her tone softening almost imperceptibly. "What's going on with you two?"

Good question, he thought bitterly as he raised his hand once more, drawing the acrid kiss of smoke back into his lungs in response. Jesse had always been in control, in one way or another. He'd had a future, he'd had a goddamn plan – until her. Until Rachel Berry had come along and thrown his entire world into chaos, unravelling the code he lived by and making him doubt himself for the first time. Forgiveness didn't come easily for Jesse and for a long time, he didn't know who he was angrier at. And yet her song refused to leave him, following him all the way to California and back again, as close to his heart as his own. It had begun with a 'Hello', a subverted mission of deception, and Jesse felt as if he had been reeling off into uncontrollable uncertainty ever since.

But apparently, she didn't have the same problem.

He scowled up at the ceiling, his jaw tight with the storm that raged behind his eyes. Maybe them sleeping together had been inevitable, but it still hurt so much more than he had ever anticipated or was prepared to admit.

"I have to ask," he said abruptly, his tone cold and steely in sardonic resentment. "What did you ever see in Hudson? Share the big secret. What is it about him? Because, seriously, I'm at a loss."

Quinn shrugged by way of answer. "He was the quarterback, I was the head cheerleader. It was expected. Besides…" she said, leaning over to take back the lit cigarette from his fingers, a sad nostalgia in her eyes that he couldn't see. "He sorta grows on you after a while."

Jesse scoffed derisively, clearly unconvinced.

Tapping ash into the glass beside her bed, Quinn frowned softly through the mist of smoke that left her lips. Turning her head, she chanced a glance down at the boy who shared her bed, but his gaze was shielded from her – in more ways than one. They weren't her secrets to read. The last barrier of intimacy that couldn't be breached.

"You've been missed."

"I'm sure," he muttered sarcastically.

"You know people are worried that you've gone back to Shelby."

Jesse chuckled darkly. "That'll be the day."

"There's another rehearsal for the musical tomorrow after school." She hesitated, watching him curiously. "Are you coming back?"

Jesse didn't answer, only reaching over to ease the cigarette from her fingers. Quinn sighed but let him take it. It was nearly finished anyway.

"So, what else did I miss?" he said at last, more to change the subject than out of any real interest.

Quinn was quiet a moment before replying. "I asked to join the Troubletones."

"And?"

"She said she's thinking about it."

He smiled. "Of course. Interesting move, but don't underestimate Shelby. She can spot a setup a mile away. Hell, she spends half her life orchestrating them."

"I'm not going to do anything stupid. I just want the chance to get close to Beth. I'm willing to do whatever I have to in order to spend as much time with her that I can. I don't want her to freak out every time I hold her."

Jesse said nothing, taking a long pull in silent consideration as they lay in quiet for a moment.

"Oh, and Kurt wants to ban dodge ball."

He raised an eyebrow, finally turning to look at her as she explained the face off between the groups. The story managed to draw a slight smile from him, though it was overshadowed by the bitter knowing in his eyes. Jesse understood better than anyone just how good Shelby was. She always played a perfect game, knowing when to listen and when to overrule and she would accept nothing less than the very best. There was no doubt in Jesse's mind that the Troubletones had beaten New Directions in the so-very-inspiringly-named 'Mash-Off'. Shelby wasn't a national champion coach for nothing.

"Oh good," he deadpanned in response to Kurt's new campaign platform. "Glad to see he's not overreacting."

Jesse moved silently from the bed soon after the cigarette had finally burned out, both knowing he wouldn't stay.

"Might wanna get dressed before your mom comes home," he suggested causally, giving her wry smile as he closed the zip of his jeans.

Quinn arched an innocent brow. "I always sleep naked."

"Tease," he murmured, catching her eyes with a smirk by way of farewell.

He stopped only to pick up his jacket from the hallway as he left the house, letting the front door shut behind him as he made his way along the street and back to his car. He didn't know exactly what time it was but it was definitely late, the roads stretching out dark and quiet in front of him. His hand lingered on the key for a moment, before dropping away from the ignition with a weary exhale. He was in no real hurry to get home, so he withdrew his cell and unlocked the screen with an idle flick of his thumb. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he certainly wasn't prepared for what he found.

The text was short, barely a few words, and yet somehow still brimming with all the untamed emotion she embodied so passionately.

Where the hell are you?

His mouth curved in a grim smile, the gesture a stark contrast to the haunted pain in his eyes. Snapping the phone shut, he pulled at his hair and squeezed his eyes shut – fighting back the waves of crushing guilt and resentment that flooded over him. Jesse dropped his head back with a bone deep sigh.

Hell.

Seemed like a pretty apt description.

~o~


AN Okay, before people start flaming and shouting and chasing me into the hills with pitchforks, let me just say that I've never made any secret about my predilection for angst and heartache. As I so often try to show in my stories, the path to true love never runs smooth and even the strongest people can fall to their weaknesses. Fictional characters are no exception. We all make mistakes, its just a fact of life, and what would the final season of Glee be without some drama and tears? Very boring, I imagine. I tried to right one of the worst wrongs of canon last chapter (I just couldn't live with that travesty nor did I have the heart to subject that to Rachel) … but life is rarely conveniently kind in its consequences. Jesse and Rachel really are their own worst enemies sometimes and growing up, being human, is very much a trial by fire. They too, will come to learn this. But please do not despair, lovely St. Berrians, there is always hope for the true of heart (Of which RIB are not, as they are clearly determined to assassinate Rachel's character and wouldn't know the definition of epic love if they fell over it)

This was a ridiculously long chapter and took a really long time to write, so please review? Seriously, with canon the way it is, they are the only things that give me the strength to watch this season. Thank you :)