Getting It Right – No Going Back


"Oh, for here you are, and what was just a world is a star."

Rachel felt herself smile at the familiar words as they carried clearly across the fresh air of the quad. Lifting her head from the Audrey Hepburn biography she had been pouring through and shielding her eyes in the bright sunlight, she turned to meet the two figures that were striding through the lunchtime crush and approaching her corner.

"Anton, my beloved," she declared, flashing a seductive smirk as she reached out a hand in greeting. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Blaine grinned, bowing elegantly to kiss her knuckles as Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Kindly stop hitting on my boyfriend."

"Hey, he started it," she protested, turning to her best friend with an innocent smile. "Is it my fault you're dating such a charming flirt?"

"Well, we couldn't have our Maria eating all alone," Blaine chuckled, sliding himself onto the seat opposite her.

"Yeah," Kurt agreed, jumping up onto the bench top and settling down cross-legged beside them. Pulling off his sunglasses, he hooked them into the ruffled collar of his scarf and ran a hand over the gelled quiff of his hair. "Where's your other half anyway?"

Rachel's expression fell ever so slightly though she hid it behind a quick shrug. "He got summoned into Figgins's office, along with Mr. Schue, Shelby and Santana."

Kurt snorted, the line of his mouth hardening in disapproval. "Three guesses what that's about."

"You don't think they'll actually kick her out over this, do you?" Blaine asked, no small hint of incredulity in his voice as he looked between the two friends. Kurt quirked an eyebrow in evident answer and his boyfriend shook his head with a sigh. "This is nuts. How can they take her to task over a stupid slap? They were pretty exceptional circumstances after all. Frankly, I think Finn should count himself lucky. She could have done a lot worse."

"They'll still count it as assault," Rachel muttered dully.

"And half the student body hurling slushies in our faces on a regular basis, shoving us into lockers and down stairs – that's just a natural part of the rough and tumble of high school? Perfectly acceptable just because it's an unconventional weapon choice?" Kurt retorted, almost spitting the words out through clenched teeth. "Seriously, the amount of abuse we've taken over the years and no-one has raised a voice or batted an eyelid... It's a joke. This school's priorities couldn't get more screwed."

Blaine laid his hand over Kurt's knee, a gentle gesture of restraint and comfort, a pained empathy in his eyes as his boyfriend met his gaze and offered him back a tight smile. Taking a breath, Kurt made an effort to lower the tones of anger in his voice.

"What Finn did was just as wrong, but we all know there will be no disciplinary consequences for that. It's just so unfair."

Blaine shrugged in weary defeat. "That's school boards for you."

Rachel picked at the remains of her lunch awkwardly, feeling a little between a rock and hard place when it came to this sensitive topic. As much as she might agree with her friends, she just couldn't bring herself to leave Finn out in the cold. So she bit her tongue. A forced habit that was becoming depressingly common practice. And so as Kurt and Blaine discussed recent events and the ensuing wider social politics back and forth, she chose to opt out of the conversation, turning inwards to her own thoughts in response. She needed someone to argue with after all, may as well be herself.

Rachel was trying to stay impartial, she really was, but it was hard. Honestly, she didn't know why she was reluctant to confront Finn over his actions, to state how she really felt and challenge him on such behaviour. She'd never held back when it came to anyone before – and more often than not, her determination to speak her mind had backfired in unforeseen and hurtful ways. She should be grateful she had gathered a little more tact and grace, even if it had been a painful lesson to learn. And yet sometimes it bothered Rachel when she thought about just how much she had changed over these few years. But maybe that was just what happened when you grew up. It wasn't a case of sacrificing her blunt honesty for social acceptance – it was just teaching herself to be a bit more considerate. It was compromise not submission. At least, that was what she told herself.

She had a precious but delicate balance in her life now, a circle of friends and a position of respect that had been hard won, and she was determined to preserve it. She couldn't go back now, not after everything she had gone through to get here. And Finn... The truth was that the fear of losing Finn had never quite abated from their tumultuous beginnings, not exactly helped by their endless cycle of break-ups and make-ups. Sometimes it felt like the divides of status and old insecurities lingered like ghosts under the surface, threatening to rear up and tear them apart all over again, and Rachel couldn't let that happen. If that meant being a bit more careful of what she said and how she said it, fine. She couldn't go back to that girl, the one no-one could stand to be around, despised and mocked and so alone with nothing to spur her on but her ambition. No-one wanted that girl.

"Oh!"

Her chin nearly slipped off her palm as she jerked up, surprised at the sudden exclamation and abrupt change in tone, only to see Kurt smiling smugly down at her from his perch. He gestured towards the book that lay on the bench in front of her, cocking an eyebrow as if it had just caught his attention, his expression an endearing mixture of pride and curiosity. "You're actually reading it."

"Of course I am," she said, throwing back her hair primly. "It's very wittily written. Of course, I knew a lot of it already, but there are still some very engaging insights and anecdotes."

Kurt grinned in triumph. "Told you."

Rachel rolled her eyes and glanced over towards the steps, currently scattered with chatting students. "She's still no Barbra though," she added in an easily audible aside, refusing to relinquish her stubbornness over their ongoing debate.

"Oh well, if that's how you feel I'll just take my book back –"

Kurt made a grab for the Hepburn biography across the bench but Rachel nimbly whisked it away and out of his reach.

"No!" she exclaimed indignantly. "I'm not finished yet."

Kurt smirked as he pulled back. "Rachel, you know you can't really compare them," he pointed out in exasperation. "They're two different but equally magnificent icons. They belong to different eras, styles and each created a different legacy. But you can't fault either for pure talent or charisma. They both redefined Hollywood."

Rachel pursed her lips, ever fiercely loyal to her idol. Of course she held huge respect for many leading ladies. She looked up to a lot of exceptional people and would readily espouse her admiration for each of their iconic statuses. But still, there was only ever one Barbra Streisand.

"Come on, guys," Blaine cut in between the bickering friends, looking suspiciously like he was trying to suppress laughter. "Call it a truce, huh? Hasn't your own alliance shown you that there's always room for more than one epic diva to share a stage?"

"I suppose so," Kurt conceded after a grudging pause. Holding onto his knees, he leaned back and looked to Rachel with something akin to fond disbelief. "You know, three years ago, I never would have thought we'd ever end up like this."

"Yeah," she agreed, tilting her head in consideration. "You were pretty annoying back then."

Kurt scowled. "Says Miss Congeniality."

"God, you two argue like a married couple. You know that, right?"

"We do not!" Rachel and Kurt retorted, almost simultaneously, which only caused Blaine to lose the struggle to curb his amusement and burst out laughing.

The humour eventually caught up with the others and Rachel cracked a reluctant smile. "I suppose we have changed a lot. Sometimes I wonder what our younger selves would say if they could see us all now."

"It's probably best not to think about it."

"Hey guys."

The three students looked around at the interruption to see Finn walking up to join them. Rachel smiled a little brighter than normal and the boys murmured greetings as the footballer dropped himself down on the bench next to his girlfriend, seemingly oblivious to the subtle layer of tension that had fallen over their table. The note of discord was faint but it was there, a straining disapproval that disrupted the usual ease of familiarity. Naturally, Rachel talked to cover it.

However before the vague awkwardness could evolve into an atmosphere, Kurt uncoiled himself and jumped down from the bench. "Well, hate to bail, but I want to get to the gymnasium before polling opens. See you guys later."

Blaine looked a little uncomfortable as he glanced around the table before standing up to join his boyfriend, who was already slinging his bag over his shoulder and waiting expectantly.

"See you in rehearsal, Rach."

Rachel managed only a smile and nod in return, before the boys were heading off across the quad once more, back towards the school buildings. Finn watched them go for a moment, raising an eyebrow at the speed of their exit.

"Was it something I said?" he remarked, leaning over to steal a jelly tot from the open pack at Rachel's elbow. She frowned. The red ones were her favourite.

"They're just still a little upset over this thing with Santana," she said at last, seeing little point in being evasive.

"Why?" he asked, genuinely confused.

Rachel stiffened, her tone sharpening before she could help it. "You did out her most intimate secret in a very public way, and that's generally a rather big deal."

"I just told the truth." Finn shrugged a little defensively. "Maybe if she learned to accept herself she wouldn't feel the need to be so vicious to everyone else. Anyway, I just saved her ass from getting suspended with Figgins."

Rachel was relieved to hear it but chose not to ask him the details of their meeting. "It still doesn't change the upheaval she's going through," she said quietly.

Finn frowned in thought. "She's just freaking out because it's finally out there. Once she sees how behind her we are, the support she has…" His expression suddenly brightened with the resolve of inspiration and he turned to Rachel eagerly. "Hey, maybe I'll speak to the Troubletones, see if we can make into a musical theme this week. You know, to help her through, show solidarity and all that."

"I'm not sure," Rachel said slowly. "Just…don't force anything else on her. Pretty sure she's not looking for more attention right now. Let her deal with this her own way."

"I'm just trying to help."

"I know," she said softly, covering his hand with her own. "But maybe just leave things be. For a while." She smiled tentatively before moving to stand. "I have to go. I said I'd meet Mike and Tina to go through some choreography for the show,"

Rachel ran her hand over his shoulder as she turned to leave but Finn barely felt the parting touch, too busy mulling over what his girlfriend had just said. He supposed he could see the reason behind her advice, but to be honest he was more concerned about what a lack of action might result in for Santana.

After a few minutes, Finn nodded to himself and decided to push ahead with his original plan.

/o/

Mr Schue had of course leapt upon the idea of 'Ladies Music Week', enthused all the more by the addition of the Troubletones back into their ranks, no matter how grudging or brief the uneasy entente was. Promoting good inter-school relations and all that jazz.

Santana, on the other hand, seemed simultaneously furious and mortified at this unwelcome intervention being run on her behalf. Only Brittany's encouragement had got her to agree to come along in the first place, despite her assertion that suspension would be a preferable alternative to such condescension. But the cheerleader knew how uncomfortable her girlfriend felt about divisions of ill feeling within their little family, and so she had made the effort and kept her scathing comments to a minimum during the parade of 'uplifting' and utterly patronising performances she had been subjected to.

However when Finn jumped up and took to the floor next to sing his own special song of self-acceptance for her benefit, Santana felt the last thread of her restraint snap. Standing up abruptly, she ignored Brittany's gaze on her back and walked out of the choir room without a word.

Finn faltered to a stop through the first verse of his stripped down version of 'Girls Just Want To Have Fun' as Santana stormed out. Turning to the door he merely stared after her for a few moments, his brow furrowing in concern and confusion. "What's her problem?" he muttered at last, glancing around at the others who had varying expressions of sympathy and awkwardness on their faces.

Rachel met his eyes sadly and opened her mouth, but Kurt beat her to it.

"What did you expect?" he demanded in frustration. "You have no idea what she's feeling right now. Coming out is one of the biggest and hardest things she'll probably ever go through and it's for the rest of her life. Did you really expect her to be gracious and grateful when you effectively threw her out of the closet without even an acknowledgment or apology?"

Mr. Schue stepped forward, casting a cautious glance over his kids and attempting to assert his authority. "I think what Kurt's trying to say –"

"What I'm saying," Kurt interrupted firmly, ignoring their teacher's diplomatic efforts keep the peace, "is that you can't make everything magically all better with a token theme week. Not this time." He held Finn's eyes with a stubborn set to his jaw, determined to say what needed to be heard. "Life doesn't work like that, not everything can be summed up and glossed over in a song. Some things you have to work for."

"That's enough," Will cut in sharply, making Kurt drop back in his seat and fold his arms. Rachel cast her eyes to the ground uncomfortably, silently agreeing with every word and wondering how Kurt had been able to say everything she couldn't.

"We all understand what a difficult time this is for Santana, and that's why it's so important to show our support –"

Finn stood lost in thought for a moment and didn't hear the rest of Mr Schue's speech to the glee club. Suddenly, he turned and headed out the door, his exit going unnoticed by their teacher and unannounced by his friends. Glancing up and down the hallway, he saw the cherry red of the familiar Cheerio jacket rounding the far corner. It didn't take him long to catch up with her, his long jogging strides closing the distance easily until he could touch her shoulder.

"Hey, Santana –"

"Don't touch me," she hissed, spinning around and shoving off his hand. Finn almost stepped back as the full force of her angry gaze fell on him, half expecting her to lash out again, but he quickly rallied himself and pressed on.

"Look, I didn't mean to –"

"You just never know when to shut up, do you?" she snapped dangerously, her voice rising with all the pain and resentment that she had been forced to carry. "Well, guess what? You're not the saviour of this story. You're not the golden boy, and you don't get to swoop in and make everything better. You're the one who fucked up and as usual you've taken no responsibility or repercussions for it. No, it's me that's taking all the shit. It's my life that's falling apart!"

Santana was the one to step forward this time, squaring up to the broad width of his chest, eyes blazing and utterly unfazed as she all but tore him down with the lethal lance of her fury. "Do you think that lame ass excuse about the slap makes us even? You think piping up in front of Figgins makes you a hero? Not by a long shot. Because I would do it again. And I just might if you don't get out of my face. Suspension be damned."

With that, she spun on her heel and walked away. Finn stood still and stared at her retreating back, momentarily stunned into shock by the raw emotion of her reaction. Shaking his head, he pulled himself together enough to call out quietly after her, a last ditch attempt at making any kinds of amends with the wounded girl who had once been his friend.

"I am sorry, you know."

A bitter smile cracked Santana's lips as she turned around to meet his face, something close to wistful regret in her eyes. "Too late," she murmured.

/o/

There's a time for us,
Someday a time for us,
Time together with time to spare,
Time to learn, time to care
Someday

Rachel reached out her free hand and touched her palm to Blaine's, pressing the tips of their fingers together. She held his eyes with a smile as her voice poured through the lyrics like liquid silk, rich and smooth and softly wishful. She could feel the gazes of their fellow cast members following the rise and fall of their song from the sides of the stage, perhaps hoping to glean some tips as to how true performers created musical magic before their own scenes came up. She felt Blaine tangle their fingers as he sang his lines before she joined his voice in harmony once more for the final verse.

There's a place for us,
A time a place for us.
Hold my hand and we're halfway there.
Hold my hand and I'll take you there
Somehow,
Someday,
Somewhere!

"Excellent," Artie announced enthusiastically. "The blocking definitely worked much better this time."

"Just beautiful," gushed Emma as Artie lowered his head to scribble further notes on his script. "The only thing I would say is bigger smiles. I mean, it is a love song after all. But other than that, it was perfect."

"You're wrong."

Rachel froze, her breath catching as an achingly arrogant voice cut through the air. Her heart jolted painfully, as if roused from a deep slumber and sent careening off into an abyss of feelings. All eyes immediately turned, lifting from the stage and up to the back of the auditorium – to the familiar and authoritative voice that had interrupted their rehearsal. As a darkly piercing gaze met her own in a shiver of silence, Rachel felt an uncanny bout of déjà vu wash over her. Anger started to simmer through the shock, turning sour in her stomach. Could he not open his mouth without correcting her performance?

Jesse took a moment to enjoy the speechless surprise on their faces, which was of course just the reaction he had aimed to produce. It was all a matter of dramatic timing. Finally unfolding his arms, he angled off from the doorframe and strolled down the steps, rolling off a litany of critiques in a bored tone without ever breaking stride. His lips curled in distain though his voice was every inch the astute professional as he ignored his stunned co-directors and addressed the couple on stage.

"The lack of movement is stilted and uninspired and drains the energy of the piece. You were late picking up the tempo change and anyway, clinical perfection means nothing if you pitch the emotion of the song wrong. This song's beauty is in its sense of melancholy. It's about love unfulfilled, broken chances and constant yearning, hope foreshadowing tragedy." His eyes found Rachel's and lingered, hard and unyielding. "This song isn't about smiles, it's about pain. The same universal pain that everyone with a heart can relate to."

Rachel scowled as he stepped onto the stage and finished his run down of their performance, which was less than complimentary yet just as brutally honest as ever. She stared at him, her mind struggling to catch up with the turmoil it had just been plunged into, relief and confusion and defensiveness fighting within her. She heard the others around them start to shift and murmur, clearly uncertain as to the current state of play on the game board, and the activity snapped her out of her state of shock.

"Well, thank you so much for those constructive insights," she said witheringly, regarding him with a cool disapproval. "But do you really think you can disappear without a word for days and then just show up again and start ordering us around?"

The look in his eyes and tilt of his lips clearly confirmed that he did. Not only that, but that he was actually entitled to.

"Try it again without these." Carrying on as if she had never spoken, Jesse stepped forward to pull the scripts out of Blaine and Rachel's hands before either could voice a protest. "You don't need them," he said firmly. "I know you think you do, but you don't."

Rachel opened her mouth to object. Of course she knew the lyrics inside out, but she still wasn't feeling particularly inclined to give into him on any issue right now. Jesse caught her eyes with a shadow of a smirk, cutting her off before she could start.

"Time to fly without a net."

With that, he turned and walked over to take a seat beside Emma, leaving Rachel staring after him incredulously and without a retort. After a few awkward words from Artie that attempted to take the sudden reappearance of their vocal coach in stride, rehearsal stumbled back into action. It was clear that Jesse's return was a source of quiet relief for a lot of the cast, though no-one was prepared to admit it, least of all Rachel. After exchanging a last look with the boy in question, she threw herself back into her performance and determinedly avoided his eye for the rest of the song.

Quinn smiled to herself at the side of the stage, shaking her head slightly, suspecting that only Jesse could pull off such a stunt and get away with it. As the next scene began and the stage flooded with chatting cast members, she stepped out and made her way to her starting position, slowing only to lightly squeeze his shoulder as she passed his side. A touch of unspoken acknowledgement to which she received a small glance in return.

Across the floor, Rachel watched the subtle understanding that passed between the two unlikely allies with a frown. Turning away, she marched into the wings to await her next cue, refusing to recognise the confused hurt that set her stomach churning, or the pang of jealousy that riled her temper almost beyond her control.

/o/

"So what changed your mind?"

Jesse glanced up to see Quinn leaning back against the row of seats in front of him, arms crossed and expression softly amused. The stage below them was slowly emptying out, people dispersing to go their separate ways as time was called on rehearsal for the evening. He shrugged and tossed the script in his hand aside.

"It's the professional in me. I don't like to leave a performance incomplete. The show must go on, and all that."

She rolled her eyes. "More like the stubborn bastard in you," she muttered. He was here for Rachel and they both knew it. Jesse met her eyes with a silent smirk that spoke volumes.

"Anyway," he went on dismissively, "Sectionals is coming up soon and if I'm not here, Schuester will no doubt have you all furiously composing a cheesy power ballad about the triumph of the underdogs, twenty minutes before the curtain."

Quinn smiled. "Right. You're all about the greater good. So nothing whatsoever to do with an infuriating, raven-haired ingénue? Or maybe…" she teased, leaning forward in a conspiratorial whisper, "you just missed us. It's okay, you can admit it."

Jesse shoved her leg in reply and Quinn laughed as she quickly moved out of reach.

/o/

Rachel flipped distractedly through the record collection with one hand as she listened to the ringtone fill her ear, in search of hidden treasures.

Both her dads had been collecting music since before she was born and had of course shared their passion with their daughter. Their tastes were wide and varied and Rachel had embraced her life-long exposure to the broad spectrum of musical culture with an avid interest, an appreciation which she continued to nurture to this day. A smile drew her lips as she absently worked her way through the disks under her fingers. She had grown up surrounded by magical voices from across the eras, but none would ever quite match the lilting lullaby her dads had sung her to sleep with when she was little, the melody they still hummed softly when she turned to them for comfort now.

Along with their own acquisitions, she also bought them a new record every Fathers Day, and as a result the collection had expanded out of the lounge and into its own corner of their basement. Of course most of her music was stored on her laptop, but there was something charmingly retro about the solid touch of records. Shifting the phone into the crook of her shoulder, she paused over a Miles Davis album before picking up an old recording of Carmen. She cast her eyes over the names on the jacket sleeve and her interest peaked. She hadn't heard this version.

Just then she heard the line connect at the other end, and she put the records aside to give the phone her full attention.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me. Just wanted to check in and see how you're doing."

There was a sigh. "I've been better."

Oh dear, he sounded depressingly low. Like before-Blaine despondent. Rachel winced in sympathy, moving to settle down in the loveseat and tucking her legs up.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt. I voted for you."

"Well, that's makes you the only one."

"Will you stop it?" she scolded gently. "You know that's not true."

"Either way, I'm official screwed for NYADA."

Rachel sat up straighter with a frown. "What are you talking about?"

"Who are we kidding? We both knew this election was my last chance to get something big on my application. They'll never give me a second look now."

"Don't say that!" she ordered, distressed to hear him on the verge of giving up on their shared dream. She would be damned if she let him quit over something as stupid as this. It was just unacceptable. He wasn't allowed. She needed him. "What's with this defeatist attitude? They'll love you, Kurt. You just need to give them the opportunity."

"Come on, Rach. The truth is that you're the one who deserves this, who's earned that chance. You've got the credits, the perfect record – hell, you've been working towards it all your life. This is your dream and you'll go make it happen like you always do."

She shook her head in protest. "Just because I figured out my dreams earlier, doesn't make them any more valid than yours. You have to at least try. You have a promise to keep after all," Rachel reminded him stubbornly. "I mean, what if I need an emergency makeover or a last minute soufflé? I can't go to New York without my best gay!"

"Glad you see your motives are altruistically selfish," he returned dryly, but she could hear him laughing. Rachel smiled, imagining him rolling his eyes at her on the other end of the phone. Well, anything that stopped him moping was fine by her. When he spoke again, she was relieved to hear him sounding more like himself. "If I'm being honest, I think the only way I would have won that election was if someone had rigged it."

"It did cross my mind," she teased.

"Well, I appreciate the sentiment, darling, but I'm glad you didn't. No point blowing both our chances."

"You think I would have got caught? Oh, ye of little faith."

"I think you've been hanging around Jesse too much when sabotage becomes your first instinct," he chuckled.

Rachel felt her smile fade, falling from her face like the sun dipping behind the clouds. She lowered her eyes, pressing her lips together as she fiddled with the cushion in her lap. Kurt however couldn't see her expression and missed the beat of silence that followed his tease, carrying on before she had a chance to change the subject.

"Speaking of which, what the hell was that all about in rehearsal? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad he's back for the good of the show, but I have no idea what he's playing at. Did he ever say why he took off?"

"No," she grumbled sulkily. "He's just being an asshole."

"Nothing new there then."

That drew a reluctant smile from her and she was just about to voice her agreement when there was the sound of Kurt calling to someone at the other end of the phone.

"Sorry, I've got to go," he explained as came back on the line, "Blaine's just got here."

"No problem," she assured. "Go enjoy your evening. Say hi for me."

Kurt sighed. "It's under protest. I really don't feel like going out, but he's refusing to stay in with me and watch sad movies with a tub of ice cream."

"He just wants to cheer you up. Let him spoil you," she said with an affectionate smile. "And then when you get home – you finish that application form, understand?"

"Yes mom."

"Shut up," she laughed.

After he had gone Rachel sat quietly for a moment, turning the phone over in her restless fingers as she stared at the opposite wall and chewed the inside of her cheek. Finally, she slid her legs down from the seat and headed up the steps that led into the rest of the house. She could hear her dad in the study but didn't stick her head in for a chat, instead turning to continue up the stairs again and into her bedroom.

Crossing the room, she pulled out the manila envelope that contained her own NYADA application and regarded it thoughtfully. It was still unsealed. Letting out a breath, she placed it carefully on desk and retrieved a single sheet of paper from the top drawer. She knew the letter of recommendation off by heart but Rachel still hesitated as she stared down at the perfect, neat signature that adorned the bottom of the page.

She had finally swallowed her pride and approached Shelby just the other day. She hadn't been keen on the idea, but with no word from Patti LuPone, it left her with little alternative. And frankly, NYADA was simply too important to let some unresolved feelings get in the way of giving herself the best chance possible. Shelby had signed the proffered, pre-scripted letter with no problem and Rachel had been polite and grateful and the event had passed in a fairly civil tone, if a little awkward.

Rachel closed her eyes as she remembered how the former coach of VA had spoken up as she had turned to leave, her voice reaching out to hold her in place like a trap of good intentions.

"I'm so proud of you."

Somehow those few words had lashed through Rachel like a stinging whip, smarting at old wounds that she had struggled so hard to close. Clenching her fingers tight around the folders pressed against her chest, she had bitten her tongue and suppressed the bitter voice that wanted to point out that she had no right to be. That Shelby was not at all responsible for the person Rachel had become, that she hadn't given her the ideals and confidence that guided her through life. No, that had been the ones who had raised her, who loved and supported her every single day, been there through every celebration and consolation, suffered through every tantrum and growing pang of youth. Shelby had made her choice when she had opted not to even try and be a part of her life.

But she didn't say any of that. Instead, she had turned her head only to offer a quiet 'thanks', the murmur of her voice almost swallowed up by the gaping silence of the auditorium. Shelby had smiled at her, looking like she wanted to say more, but Rachel had already resumed her path off the stage and didn't turn around again.

Opening her eyes once more, she took a deep breath and folded the letter over decisively, adding it to the rest of the papers and sealing the envelope. Then she slipped into her shoes and threw on her jacket, determined to run it straight to the post box, knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep until it was safely on its way to the NYADA application office.

/o/

"What was that?"

Quinn didn't react to the abrupt question, too used to the cheerleader's brusque manner to even quirk an eyebrow in surprise. Snapping the top back on her lip gloss, she didn't even bother to look away from the mirror as she spoke. "What?"

Santana made an impatient sound. Hopping up, she perched on the sink beside the former head Cheerio and studied her with a curious frown. "That little smirk between you and St. James in rehearsal yesterday."

"I don't know what you mean," Quinn replied calmly, though there was a flicker of a conspiratorial smile at the edge of her lips, one that her old friend recognised instantly.

Santana flashed a knowing grin. "Like hell you don't."

"Why do you even care?"

"Come on, I need something to distract me from all the shit that's kicking off right now," she muttered bitterly, her eyes going dark and troubled as her own painful thoughts caught up with her for a moment. "And the worst hasn't even hit yet, trust me. Offering up some juicy gossip is the least you can do."

Just then the door to the bathrooms swung open, rudely interrupting their privacy. Santana whipped her head around and practically growled at the poor, startled sophomore that had unwittingly stumbled into their conversation. Cowering under the force of such a glare, the girl promptly scurried out again.

"So what's going on?" she demanded, turning back to continue their conversation without missing a beat. Quinn raised the black pencil to her lashes, completely unfazed by the display of her friend's powers of intimidation. They were used to ruling the roost after all. Santana picked up a nail file and leant back against the mirror, all the while keeping a shrewd eye on the girl next to her. "I know that look better than anyone. That's the day after the night before look." At Quinn's side glance, Santana gave a smug smile. "I can always tell. How do you think I exposed you and Finn last year?"

The blonde narrowed her eyes but the Latina was unapologetic in her tactics, only interested in satisfying her own curiosity and hearing all the dirty details. Quinn said nothing as she turned her attention back to the mirror and finished touching up her eyeliner, leaving Santana to draw her own conclusions.

Which she was more than happy to do.

A wicked grin spread across the cheerleader's lips and she leant forward eagerly. "Oh my god, you did? You actually bedded the infamous St. James?" Quinn's lips quirked and Santana laughed in approval. "Damn it girl, gotta say I'm impressed. And jealous."

She arched an eyebrow in amusement. "I thought he wasn't your type."

"I'm gay, I'm not dead," Santana corrected with a smirk. "I'd still tap that in a heartbeat."

The girls exchanged a smile and Quinn felt the familiar tug of camaraderie, a bond that would always be there. Even though they'd had their share of cat fights, bitching and backstabbing over the years and despite all the distance that had drifted between them – in that moment it was as if she were back in the Cheerios locker room, enjoying the thrill of girly gossip with her best girlfriends. There was still something there between them all, and as much as Quinn was reluctant to admit it – she did miss Santana and Brittany sometimes.

"It's not a big deal," she said at last, smiling as she started collecting the makeup back into her fabric purse. "It's just a bit of fun."

And it was. Wasn't it? Quinn frowned softly as she clicked her small mirror shut. This particular dalliance was certainly proving extremely pleasurable, far more than she had even anticipated. But that wasn't what had driven them into it and it wasn't what kept them turning to each other in their lowest moments. The truth was that Jesse was perhaps the only person who shared the same outsider feelings that plagued her. Who struggled with the same aching void of comfort that she did, the same anger, frustration and regret that fuelled their twisted relief in each other. The fact that he also shared her manipulative streak and his image fitted in nicely with her own was never going to hurt either.

Santana snapped her fingers in triumph. "Man, I knew there was something going on with you two. But still, I can't believe you started screwing the hottest guy in school and didn't even tell me!"

"So this is you claiming an 'I told you so', huh?"

"Hey, I'm just happy your taste in men has improved from my sloppy seconds."

Quinn rolled her eyes, running a hand through her tousled flicks as she appraised her reflection one last time.

"So, how was it?" Santana inquired shamelessly. "Worth all the hype?"

Quinn smiled in satisfaction, eyes glinting brightly with memories. "Let's just say that some reputations are well deserved."

Santana laughed and jumped down from her perch to fall into step beside Quinn, the door swinging shut behind them as the girls headed back into the bustle of the hallway.

Quiet fell once more.

The bathroom basked in the sudden silence for a few long moments, the stillness broken only by a faltering creak as the furthest cubicle door slowly pushed open.

Rachel stared numbly at the exit the two girls had just left through. Unseeing, unfeeling. The noise of the school just beyond sounded distant and echoing to her ears, muffled through the raging beat of her own heart. Call it a survival reflex, but she had never quite gotten out of the habit of ducking into the stalls whenever she heard the sharp, patented click of cheerleaders' feet. Now she wished she had just run out instead. Her fingers were white as they gripped around the lock of the stall, but she barely felt it as she stood alone in the engulfing emptiness, her mind reeling off into a battlefield of clashing emotions.

Quinn.

It was always her. Every guy she had ever cared about had been involved with Quinn in some way. And now Jesse… Rachel gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, the tension escalating through her body until her muscles began to seize up. Why did that girl insist on taking everything from her? Was it not enough that she was prettier, more popular, got everything she ever wanted and had haunted Rachel's insecurities for as long as they had shared a school. Why did she have to do this? Why Jesse?

And how could he choose her? Rachel already knew that Jesse didn't see sex the same way she did, but how could he go to Quinn after everything he claimed to feel for her? It was Rachel who he had professed to love, it was her for whom he had come to New York and returned to McKinley – and yet he had still ended up in Quinn's bed. It… it didn't make sense.

But Jesse wasn't hers. She had broken it off, turned him away, made her choice. She didn't have any right to care about his sordid entanglements anymore. She shouldn't care. She didn't care…

The pain came crashing in despite all her violent struggles to hold it back. The numbness crept up her hands and into her arms and she lost her grip on the door, her skin tingling and feet stumbling as she backed up clumsily. Her breath came out hard and shallow as fire burned in her throat. She prayed for the numbness to reach her heart, to drown out the poison there that hurt so much, but it never did.

She blinked desperately but the dams in her eyes were defiant to all her protests. She didn't feel the wall at her back, didn't register the cool surface seep through her clothes as she slid down to slump on the floor of the stall, too distracted to even recoil at the unsanitary conditions. She didn't feel her forehead drop to her legs, her hair sticking to her cheeks. Not until the salty streams dripped onto her bare knees did she flinch – only then to find that it was too late.

And so Rachel gave in, let herself be weak, to wallow in incomprehension and aimless grief and anger, just for a moment. She didn't understand and she didn't want to, refused to acknowledge the gaping maw of betrayal that tore through her lungs. For one moment she stopped fighting, tired of trying to make sense out of chaos, and just let herself be lost.

/o/

Brittany sang softly to herself as she floated around her room, sweeping a brush through her hair as she got ready for bed. She didn't really know the name of the tune but it made her think of the bubblegum advert for some reason. Stopping by her dresser she replaced the hairbrush and pulled her long, golden locks back into a ponytail, examining her reflection with a satisfied nod. It was then she noticed a heavy purring from her bare feet and looked down to see a rotund, furry face staring up at her curiously. Brittany sighed, crouching down to tickle behind his ears as Lord Tubbington continued to wrap himself around her legs with a vocal insistence of attention.

"You see, this is why I don't like you staying up to watch Animal Planet. It gets you too excited," she reprimanded in concern. Scooping the placid cat up in her arms, Brittany carried him over to his bed in the corner of her room and laid him patiently back down, tucking him in and rubbing his belly until with a contented yawn, he finally curled up to sleep.

She was just standing up again when there was a soft knock on her balcony doors, the sound quiet and hesitant, almost as if it didn't want to be heard. With a frown, she walked over and slid the lock, plucking at the edge of the curtain. Brittany peered out into the dark night for only a second before she quickly pulled the door open, eyes wide as she breathed out her surprise almost in a prayer.

"San…"

Santana flinched at the whisper of her name, seeming to close up on herself even further as she stood there on her best friend's bedroom porch. Her arms were huddled tight around her middle as if she didn't know what to do with her hands, fists digging into the folds of her jacket, every muscle stiff and defensive and on guard from the world. Her gaze was averted and cast low but Brittany could still see the silent tears that spilled down her girlfriend's cheeks, streaking her face and brimming in her eyes, and that worried Britt more than anything else. She could count on one hand the number of times she had seen Santana cry, and she knew that something immense must have happened to break down those barriers.

"I'm – I'm sorry," Santana spoke haltingly, her voice rusty from use as she finally looked up to meet her girlfriend's distressed eyes. "I didn't know where else to go…"

Brittany quickly enveloped her in her arms, holding tight as Santana gratefully crumbled against her, surrendering to her lover's comfort like it was her only source of air.

"Oh, baby, it's okay. Shhh…"

Brittany mumbled the endearment over and over as she gently pulled them inside and over to her bed, where Santana all but collapsed into her embrace as she finally lost the fight with her grief. As distraught, muffled sobs wracked the girl she loved, tearing away at her own heart with each shaking gasp against her shoulder, Brittany could do nothing but rock her best friend soothingly and attempt to calm her as best she could. She stroked through Santana's tangled hair, traced her damp cheeks and listened to the sound of her heartbeat pressed against her own, desperate to somehow make it all better. She had never felt a desire so keenly in her life, nothing had ever been so important. Brittany never liked to see anyone suffering, but when it was Santana… it felt as if someone had drained all the oxygen out of the room.

They stayed like that for a long time, clinging to each other hard enough to leave bruises. Brittany just wanted to make her girlfriend's pain go away, to stop it hurting, but she had no idea how. And so she just held her trembling form as tight as she could while Santana quietly choked on her tears, murmuring her love in her ear and trailing her fingertips softly up and down her back. She knew she should have gone with her, but Santana had been adamant and the cheerleader knew that nothing would dissuade the Latina from her decisions once they were made.

She had never seen Santana so devastated and it broke her heart to pieces. Brittany didn't know what to do, but she hushed and held and loved the girl in her arms with every ounce of devotion in her. And that would never, ever change.

Finally they fell into a gentle quiet. Santana's breathing evened out and the tension eased out of her shoulders as her body shuddered with exhaustion. Brittany let her reign in her control for a few more minutes, playing absently with the ends of her dark silky hair as she waited.

"What happened?" she asked quietly when she felt her girlfriend was at last ready, knowing she needed the small push to let her open up. She felt Santana pull back with a broken sigh, shaking her head as she dropped her gaze to the bed under them. Brittany let her go, though their hands stayed clasped together on their laps.

"They… they told me not to come back."

Brittany watched as fresh tears slipped free from those exquisite eyes, that proud voice cracking with pain, and laced their fingers tightly in defiance.

"They won't have meant it," she assured, concerned with nothing else but calming and comforting the girl in front of her.

"Maybe they did," Santana muttered flatly, helpless and resigned, as if all the fight had been beaten out of her. "I mean, I knew they would have a problem with it, that it would be hard to understand and accept, but…they wouldn't even listen. They just didn't want to know. They're ashamed of me, of what I am. And my abuela, she… she said that secrets should be kept. That it was a sin to tell them when they hurt others, to be open about such things."

Brittany watched her girlfriend wince at the memory, and her heart clenched painfully at the sight. She knew just how close Santana was with her grandmother, how much sway her opinion had. To hear such words of rejection from the beloved matriarch would only be a crippling blow to Santana, one that had the power to shake her whole world.

"Maybe they're right. I mean, if Finn hadn't…" She tensed and trailed off. Brittany squeezed her hand. Santana took a breath and composed herself enough to carry on. "Maybe no-one would've ever had to know. What's so wrong with that? No one cares so long as they don't have to be confronted with it. I…I could've dealt with that."

"I couldn't," Brittany said softly. Santana turned to her and Britt gave a small wistful smile as she met her eyes. "Do you really want to live your life like that? Always hiding? Never being who you are." She tugged gently on their entwined fingers in point, words tender and sincere with all the warmth of her affection. "I want to be able to walk down the corridor and hold your hand. I want to tell the world that I'm yours and you're mine and I couldn't be happier. I'm so proud of you and I want everyone to know it. And I want to kiss you up on that election platform when they crown me because you're the only one I want to share that moment with."

Santana felt herself smile for the first time in what felt like the longest night of her life, a lightness of spirit that only Brittany could ever evoke. She didn't even try to correct her girlfriend over the minor detail that class presidents didn't get "crowned" as such. Hell, if Britt wanted a crown, she would damn well make her own and Santana would do the coronation. "I know. Me too, baby." She touched Brittany's cheek with reverent fingertips, before shaking her head as she pushed through the ache in her throat. "But I can't lose them…"

Brittany raised her hand to catch Santana's where it lingered against her face, pressing a kiss to her palm. "You won't," she said firmly, with such simple confidence that Santana couldn't help but believe her, however briefly. "They'll come around. They have to. And if they can't see you for the amazing person you are, then they're just…idiots."

Santana's lips flickered in a ghost of a smile as she reached out to tuck a lock of honey hair behind Brittany's ear. Tears glimmered in her eyes but she made no attempt to wipe them away, her voice dropping to a whisper along with her gaze. "I'm so scared, Britt…"

Never before had Brittany heard those words leave her love's mouth, and the soft confession threw her into uncertainty for a moment. She stared into the face she loved so much, struck at the bare honesty in those gorgeous features, as she tried to absorb this strange new territory between them. Santana had always been the one in control, always taken care of them, always protected her and known what to do. She had always been strong in the face of the world. She wasn't afraid of anything.

And yet, Brittany slowly came to realise, this was simply a different kind of strength for her. The emotional courage to admit one's deepest fears and still face them anyway, even more to entrust them to another. Santana just needed someone to show her how to embrace all the power that blossomed under such a strong will and heart. And though it was a little daunting, Brittany felt a swelling warmth and resolve buoy up inside her, and she knew that she wanted nothing more than to show this girl just how incredible she truly was. Now it was her turn. She sat up determinedly though her touch was feather light as she held her girlfriend's face, tracing the rim of her jaw as she looked into her eyes with a deep and unfaltering conviction.

"And that's okay," she whispered, "because we'll figure it out together. You're so much stronger than them, San. You can do this. You're brave…" Brittany kissed the spot her fingertips had just caressed, smiling softly against the curve of her jaw, "and beautiful…" she pressed a kiss to her still damp cheek, the sweet salt of spent tears lingering on her lips. "And fierce…" A watery laugh escaped the girl under her touch and Brittany smiled as she moved up to carefully kiss her closed eyelids, "real and wonderful…" Her fingers slid into a river of black silken locks as she finally moved down to capture Santana's parted lips, murmuring the warm words against her mouth, "and perfect."

It was a sentiment that was returned with equal ardour as the lovers sank into a lingering embrace of heat and tears. When Santana reluctantly drew back from the slow, soft comfort of their kiss, she pulled away only enough to rest their foreheads together, unwilling to relinquish any more distance between them. For a long moment neither of them moved, content to simply embrace the assurance of touch, breathing in the quiet.

"You're right," Brittany continued at last, tilting their faces gently so she could meet Santana's eyes with a serene smile. "You're not like them. You're different. We're different. And I love being different. Different is magic."

Santana stared at her girlfriend with a mixture of awe and disbelief, unable to even find the will or want to argue. She so wished she could be like her. Britt found such joy in the differences that others would use to divide, something special, something to love always in the world around her. She was stronger that Santana could ever hope to be.

"Can I...stay?" she asked cautiously, before rushing on to hide the uncomfortable weakness in such a request. "Just for tonight."

Brittany beamed at her. "You can stay always," she answered immediately. And she truly meant it.

Santana hesitated as she contemplated the depth behind her best friend's invitation. Could she really do that? She dropped her gaze as varying instincts went to war inside her at the thought of such a prospect. It was an outcome she hadn't ever considered throughout all the turmoil of this night, and she didn't know quite how to feel about it. She already knew that Brittany's parents were generous and forgiving and liked her well enough. They had never interfered in her relationship with Britt, always been kind, always courteous. But still, the thought of living here, of asking them to take her in… it was a blow to Santana's pride that stung even now. But what choice did she really have, she thought bitterly. And if she was being honest with herself, there was nowhere else she would rather be, no one else she could imagine being with when the world turned cold around her. She couldn't bear the thought of facing the coming time without Britt. Yet she refused to be that selfish when the fact was that it would only end up hurting the person she loved.

Santana frowned at her depressing thoughts. "Won't that just make things worse?" she muttered sourly. "The queers shacking up together. This town will have a riot."

"I don't care," Brittany said calmly, "and you shouldn't either. Forget about them. Their lives are small and narrow and they will never see anything beyond their front doorstep. This is about us. What do you want?"

Santana raised her eyes to meet those twinkling blue stars that shined at her earnestly. "To be with you," she breathed quietly, overwhelmed again by the innocent and powerful wisdom of her smart girlfriend.

Brittany smiled with such unashamed love and happiness that Santana felt as if the sun itself was drying the tears from her face.

"Come on," Britt said softly as she reached out to run a hand along her shoulder. Taking the hint of encouragement, Santana sighed but obliged as she slid off her jacket, letting Brittany stand to carefully hang it up on the back of her door. Suppressing a sudden yawn, she pushed off her shoes, too tired to make any other concessions before Britt rejoined her and they climbed under the covers.

The bedside lamp glowed low in the night darkness as the lovers curled up beside each other, arms and legs tangled together in a tender knot of belonging. Santana was beyond exhausted as she finally shut her eyes. Her mind was restless but she forced herself to lay still, to try and forget about everything that existed outside this room, everything that was still waiting for her. For them.

She could hear Britt humming dreamily as she coaxed her love to sleep, felt her kissing the tears off her cheeks, and for the first time in so, so long, Santana felt safe. Protected. Loved. Wholly and completely.

Things would never be the same, she knew that. There was no going back now.

"I know things are bad at the moment," Brittany murmured as she continued to soothe the tension from Santana's weary form, "but it will feel better in the end. I promise."

Santana smiled faintly and nestled closer, feeling the stubborn resentment slowly begin to melt away in the warmth of such words. Her fingers stroked along her girlfriend's waist and Britt tangled a hand gently in her hair, pulling her close to press her lips to her forehead.

Because Brittany promised, and her promises meant the world to her. The only thing that Santana truly trusted.

/o/

It had been an eventful and draining week for the glee club but at last it was Friday afternoon, and the end of the day could not come soon enough for Rachel. She had never needed out of this place more and her feet itched with desire for distance, to run and not look back. The school corridors felt claustrophobic, pressing in on all sides and holding her captive to the tedium of lectures and the inane chatter of her peers. And it was doing her head in.

She was on route to her last class, her movements on autopilot as she navigated the usual rush that filled the hallways between periods, when she saw him.

He was coming out of Miss Pillsbury's office, head bowed and pinching the bridge of his nose, looking very much as if he were fighting off a migraine. Rachel stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, ignoring the disgruntled mutter of the students who pushed past her impatiently. Her insides lurched violently, her emotions falling into anarchy so quickly that she couldn't tell one from the other, a vice clamping sharply somewhere in her chest. As if sensing her gaze, he glanced up in her direction and Rachel instantly turned around, disappearing into the opposite stream of traffic in the corridor. She would take the long way to class.

Jesse glimpsed Rachel through the crowd for only a moment as she turned and all but ran from him. He frowned. She must still be pissed at him for ditching rehearsals. He debated following her but just then his cell rang and he was distracted. Rachel's sulking would just have to wait.

/o/

"Alright, alright," Finn muttered under his breath as he thudded down the last couple of steps and headed towards the front door, where someone apparently had their finger glued to the bell. "Jeez, where's the fire?"

When he finally opened the door to his insistent visitor, he blinked in surprise.

"Rachel?" His brows drew together as he took in her anxious expression, confused at her sudden appearance on his doorstep. "I thought you had dance class tonight."

"I just… I wanted to see you."

Before Finn could say anything in response, Rachel had let herself in and caught him in a tight hug with such force that he almost stumbled back a step. She wrapped her arms under his shoulders and pressed her face into his chest, closing her eyes as she felt him quickly recover his balance and move to complete their embrace. She knew her behaviour must seem a little odd, but at that moment she didn't much care. She just soaked in the solid assurance of his arms as he held her, breathing in the familiar comfort of his clothes, his touch, the security of his love.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked after a moment, resting his head on top of hers.

"Yeah. I just...missed you." Her face was still hidden, her voice muffled, but her hold on him tightened if anything.

He smiled a little, shaking away his bemused concern as he pulled her closer. It seemed like far, far too long since she had held him so fiercely, like he was the only thing that mattered, and it eased the vague cloud of tension that had been lingering in the back of his mind recently. He couldn't see the conflicted pain in her eyes that were cast down from him, nor could he identify the creeping desperation in her tone as such when she spoke again.

"You know what you said about going away? Let's do it."

Finn had to think for a moment, searching his memory to recall what she was talking about. Then he remembered. His uncle had a small cabin by the lake that lay about an hour and half out of town, and it was always vacant through much of the winter months. He'd suggested the idea of having a weekend away before but Rachel had been non-committal, saying she was too busy to take time off, what with all her performance classes, the musical, the elections and glee club. Finn didn't know why he had felt such compulsion for the idea, but it seemed important. Just to get some time alone, away from here and... old memories. There had been something distant in her lately, a subtle shift in the ease of their company together that neither was prepared to acknowledge, and he wanted to fix it. He wanted things to be the way they were again.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," she said, lifting her chin to look up at him. "Let's do it. Let's go."

"Wait, right now? What about the musical?"

Rachel shook her head, as if trying to throw off a painful headache. "It's fine," she assured him stubbornly, "they can go one evening without me."

Normally such a statement from Rachel would have given someone pause, but Finn found himself too grateful at her change of mind to try his hand at tempting fate. He smiled at her and she tried to echo it back. "Okay," he murmured in agreement. He kissed her forehead and Rachel felt a tight relief within her heart. Space. She just needed…space. The time to clear her thoughts and get her head back together. And who better to spend it with than the boy she loved, who had been there with her through everything and knew her better than anyone else. The smile stayed on her lips as she hugged him, bright with determination, for if she could just feel it on the outside then eventually it would feel true on the inside. Appearance was ninth tenths of reality anyway for a performer's heart like Rachel's.

/o/

Maybe she should have thought this through better.

Rachel frowned as she looked down at the piles of clothes that lay before her. Finn was coming to get her in an hour so she couldn't exactly afford to be picky with her packing, but she had still emptied out her dresser and dumped the contents of the drawers onto her bed in a disorganized heap of colour and fabric. She had never been good at travelling light.

Sighing tiredly, she began sifting through the assortment of clothes, throwing the odd item into the rucksack at her feet. It was only two nights after all; she really shouldn't need that much. Lifting up a polka dot sundress, she suddenly hesitated as her gaze fell upon a familiar sweater, one that had once been a staple in her wardrobe but had since lain forgotten at the bottom of her drawer for the past year.

A slight smile touched her lips as she ran her fingers over the bumpy stitching, weaved through with so many memories, as warm as they were painful. She could still remember the last time she had worn this particular garment.

"I'm just gonna get changed," she announced as she nudged the bedroom door shut behind them, dropping her school bag to the floor and kicking off her shoes.

"Oh no you don't," he teased with a smile, reaching out to catch her wrist from where he lounged on the bed, pulling her down to the mattress to join him. "You know what a wool polyester blend does to me."

Rachel laughed, rolling her eyes but making little effort to disentangle them. "Hey, you were the one who said my 'strange affinity for sweaters with animals on them' was a detriment to my hotness."

"If you recall correctly, that was actually the popular consensus, not my own opinion. And I've reassessed my stance," he pointed out smugly. "As sweater patterns go, I think woolly unicorns are sneakily sexy. Turns out there's something about unfitted tailoring that's mysteriously alluring."

"Such as?" she probed curiously, biting back a smile.

He smirked. "Well…you could be wearing just about anything underneath," he replied smoothly as he leaned over on his elbow, fingers plucking playfully at the neckline of her sweater.

"Or nothing at all," she breathed out through the shallow air between them, their faces temptingly close. She didn't know what made her say it. She was never normally this boldly teasing, but since his return to her life a few days ago with his forgiveness, she had been craving to be as close to him as possible. Plagued by a sense of precious urgency, as if she feared he would slip away through her fingers at any moment.

"Now there's an intriguing proposition."

She cocked an inviting eyebrow, her heart hammering under his wandering touch. "No-one's stopping you…"

Jesse grinned and slowly coaxed the sweater over her head, both laughing as he revealed yet another layer in the form of a buttoned up blouse. "Little minx," he muttered hotly, catching her lips as she giggled and happily wrapped her arm around his neck.

Rachel pulled back from the echoes of her memory with a sharp shake of her head. Clenching her fists, she balled up the jumper in her white knuckles and hurled it back into the depths of the closet. I'm not that girl anymore, she wanted to scream. She wasn't the laughing stock of her peers on a daily basis, she didn't dress like a twelve year old, she didn't have to bow and scrape for the attention of the quarterback anymore. She didn't incite hatred and mockery every time she opened her mouth these days, she knew better than to speak that same forthright honesty that had cost her so much. She no longer spent her evenings alone, singing into the mirror and imagining a better future through the glittering lights that shone back through her tears.

She wasn't the same girl that had fallen in love with him.

Rachel slammed a door on the closet with shaking hands.

/o/

The night air was refreshingly cool on her face, but the soft heat of the body pressed against her own was more than enough to keep her warm in the evening breeze. They were sat out on Brittany's front porch, idly watching the few stars they could see through the city lights and listening to the faint chorus of crickets that chirped from the undergrowth. Santana had always liked this neighbourhood, it was so quiet and peaceful compared to her own.

"You do realise you're missing your own victory party," she remarked quietly at last.

Brittany smiled, the loose waves of her hair tickling Santana's neck as she leaned in close to her ear. "No, I'm not."

Santana closed her eyes as she leaned back in her girlfriend's embrace, her body nestled between Brittany's arms, her fingers stroking absently along the slender wrists of the hands that held her close.

"Things will be different, you know." Santana opened her eyes as she heard Brittany speak again, her tone thoughtful but determined. "Now I'm president, I have the power to change things, to make things better. I can fight for you, for us, and the school will have to listen."

An apprehensive frown touched Santana's face. "Baby, I don't think that will do any good and they'll just punish you for trying. Don't go looking for trouble. This election means so much to you, why risk it?"

"Because I love you," Britt answered simply, confused at why Santana would even ask such a thing. "And I want you to be happy."

Santana shivered at the aching honesty in those words, shifting her body so their faces were level and she could look her best friend deep in the eyes. "You make me happy," she whispered, leaning in to catch Britt's smile with her own as she pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

A muffled ringing suddenly broke the quiet evening, interrupting their enjoyment and causing Santana to pull away in frustration as she yanked out her cell. She glanced over the screen, her expression darkening in pain at the caller ID that flashed up.

Home

But they weren't her home. Not anymore. She hesitated before finally hanging up. They knew where she was. If her parents were really interested in speaking with her, they could make the effort to come and see her face to face. Santana's infamous anger had sparked to life in the storm of her grief, and it was a hard flame to put out.

"Who was it?"

"No one," she lied.

Brittany studied her for a long moment and Santana got the feeling she was looking right through her, past the bravado of habit she could read so well. When it came to the encryption of Santana's emotions, there was no better decoder than her fellow Cheerio.

"You're going to have to talk to them sometime."

"But not tonight," Santana returned firmly, looking up to meet her gaze. "This is your night."

"It's ours," Brittany corrected with a smile, gently linking their pinkies together in a silent promise.

Santana sighed as she rested her head on Britt's shoulder, tilting her face towards the sky as her girlfriend played tenderly with her dark tresses. Brittany laid a kiss to the side of her neck, their bodies wrapped tight around each other as they leaned back against the porch, soaking in the moonlight that shone over their heads.

/o/

Rachel listened to the sound of Finn's soft snores as she carefully reached for the remote beside them, turning off the movie credits and plunging the room into darkness but for the flickering fire that glowed in the hearth in front of them.

Adjusting her head against the sofa cushions they were curled up on, she settled into their embrace once more, hunkering down under his arm which rested over her waist and held her close. It had been well after ten when they had arrived at the cabin, having picked up dinner on the way, so she could only imagine it must be some time in the early hours by now. Letting out a deep, slow breath, Rachel stared into the dwindling flames and tried to will her mind to succumb to the tiredness that consumed her body.

She couldn't help but feel relieved that Finn hadn't seen this weekend as an invitation to pick up where they had left off. They deserved a perfect moment when they finally took that step and that was nothing like right now, not when she was fighting with her feelings like this. Rachel shut her eyes, closing her hand lightly over his and drawing comfort from the weight of his touch wrapped around her. And yet she was dismayed to find that she still couldn't shake off the whispering demons that haunted the darkest corners of her thoughts, the lingering feeling that she longed to be falling asleep in someone else's arms.

Rachel locked her lips tight against the broken gasp that threatened to escape her. But that was all wrong. And that someone else had no place in her heart and no path back for redemption, and she would fight the choking grasp of his memory with every shred of strength in her. Rachel felt the familiar sting of salt against her skin but couldn't even raise a hand to wipe it away. The droplets rolled mockingly down the curve of her cheek, glowing softly in the dying embers of the fire that reflected upon her face, but still she refused to open her eyes.

She loved Finn. This would pass. She loved Finn.

And the rhythm of that mantra slowly lulled her into a restless sleep, easing her into the darkness, even as fresh tears broke free and continued to stream silently down her face.

~o~