Getting It Right - Costs Of Victory
She found him brooding on the bleachers, just like he had found her under them all those weeks ago. A small ironic smile curved her lips at the cracked mirror they found themselves in. Now she was the one with the plan, and he looked more lost than ever.
Shouts and whistles drifted up from the playing fields that stretched out below, snatched from the bustle of activity and carried over their heads with the eddies of the afternoon breeze. He didn't visibly react to her intrusion upon his exile. Quinn tugged her jacked closer. It was too cold today to be idling outside, which went a long way to explaining the empty benches that surrounded them. She cast her gaze over the sullen figure to her right, who had made no concessions to the weather when it came to his usual, carefully assembled attire. She huffed. Why was it that boys always seemed to run so much warmer than girls? He sat with his back hunched, arms resting across his knees and hands clasped together. He had clearly sought out the solitude, but she didn't let that bother her.
"Bad day?"
For a moment she wasn't sure he would acknowledge her at all.
"You could say that."
He offered no other response, his gaze still lowered as he frowned down at his clenched knuckles. If he was hoping she would take the hint and leave him alone, he was about to be disappointed.
"I'm fresh out of smokes for you, I'm afraid," she announced as she perched beside him, uninvited and unbothered. He stiffened slightly but didn't glance up, stubbornly stoic even as the frosty air bit at his exposed neck and whipped through his dark denim jacket.
"Trying to quit again?"
"Yeah." The blonde huddled into the fleece lining of her coat, more susceptible to the gust of wind than her companion. "For Beth."
"Withdrawals a bitch."
"Tell me about it."
They sat in silence for a minute, observing the play formations taking shape on the field beneath them with equal disinterest. The sun glinted off the goal posts but did nothing to warm the frigid air.
"Feel like talking?"
Quinn wasn't really sure why she was pushing him, why she had even come looking for him, but blamed it on the utter tedium of her peers that had sent her outside in search of better company. She eyed the boy beside her curiously, knowing him well enough by now to be able to gauge when his angst was dangerously close to critical mass.
Jesse grasped at the back of his neck, squeezing the aching muscles briefly, before he straightened up with a sigh. "Had a pretty impressive fight with Rachel," he admitted at last.
Well, she could have predicted that just from his demeanour. Quinn rolled her eyes. "God, you two aren't even a couple yet and you still quarrel like one."
"Best of both worlds," he muttered sarcastically.
When it looked like he wasn't going to elaborate any further, she pressed on somewhat impatiently.
"About what?"
An almost amused quirk touched his lips for a second as he finally caught her eyes.
"You."
"Ah."
Understanding filled her expression for a moment, then resignation. It might have come sooner than she had anticipated or perhaps would have liked (she had rather enjoyed having that silver bullet in her arsenal after all), but it was hardly a surprise. And from the looks of it, Rachel had reacted exactly the way her teammate had expected her to. With tears, foot stamping, and selfish recriminations. How typical. That girl threw a tantrum and everyone else had to suffer for it.
A crease settled between her brows as she glanced back at her unlikely accomplice. Quinn could see for herself the fresh scars of guilt and self-loathing that had been split open by those big wounded eyes, and it made something small but significant twist between her ribs.
"Mission accomplished then," she said, only half joking.
He gave a tight, rueful smile. "Yeah. I guess so."
Quinn heard the air of finality in the words and couldn't help the twinge of disappointment they invoked. She'd known it was coming. They'd played their parts, a little too well perhaps, and now he was calling time. A tacit understanding that she only resented a little.
Jesse frowned as he felt the disquiet that had been stalking his mind since their confrontation setting upon his thoughts again. A little fun and jealousy was one thing, but he had never wanted to hurt Rachel. He'd done enough of that already. He sighed low to himself, raising a hand to tug at his hair in a rare show of stress.
Turning his head an inch, he found himself distracted by the slightly wistful expression that danced over Quinn's features as she stared out over the pitch in front of them. He followed her gaze, catching the way it lingered on the kicks and flicks and aerobatics of the Cheerio practice that was taking place on the far side.
"Thinking of rejoining the fold?"
She shrugged, quick to avert her attention. "No."
"Too bad," he remarked, the shadow of a familiar smirk crossing his lips. "The uniform was pretty kinky."
Quinn grinned and looked over, yet the tease was lacking in conviction and his eyes were still dark and distant. The smile faded with frustration, though she made an attempt to lessen the terseness in her tone.
"You should just talk to her."
"We tried talking." He slumped back against the row of the seats, draping his arms along the metal bar that ran behind his shoulders. "We just end up arguing."
She scoffed, flicking back her bangs irritably. "Rachel argues with everyone. It's when she stops making your life hell that you should start worrying."
Jesse's mouth twitched, but it was without much humour. He observed the former cheerleader's focus stray to the football field again, reluctantly drawn back to that pristine sparkle of red and white once more. The crackpot coach was screeching something incoherent as the scantily clad teenagers shivered and dutifully contorted themselves into human pretzels on command.
"Do you miss it?"
Quinn lowered her eyes. "Sometimes," she admitted softly, before she sat up straighter and set her chin in determination. "But there are more important things now."
He cast her an assessing glance but said nothing, waiting for her to gather her thoughts.
"I contacted a family lawyer," she said at last, confirming his suspicions. "He thinks I might have a case."
Jesse was quiet as he considered the girl beside him. Her spine was rigid with resolve but her expression was still fraught with a maelstrom of emotion that had yet to abate. The old guards of pain and pride keeping the assault of clarity at bay. It was a feeling he had been intimately familiar with himself not so long ago. He wished he could tell her it got better, but he was pretty sure she didn't want to be lied to.
"She's going to come after you hard," he warned instead, unable to hide the sourness that tipped his tongue at the mention of his former mentor. Jesse knew better than most just how ruthless Shelby could be. "Are you prepared for that?"
"Beth's worth it."
He tilted his head up nonchalantly. "You know what they say: a kid is for life, not just for high school."
"You think I don't know that?" she snarled, slits of jade flashing as she turned on him. "You think I'll get bored or something and cast her away like an out of date pair of shoes? You think it was an easy decision to give her up?"
"Quinn," he interrupted firmly, his eyes sharp with knowing. "I am not judging you."
She was silent, her gaze stony and sceptical.
He heaved a deep sigh, as if world-weary beyond his years. "I'm the last person to be able to fault another for past choices. And unlike some other holier-than-thou people around here, I would never condemn you for being human. We never know what will happen when we reach a crossroads, all we can do is use whatever information we have available to us at the time and hope for the best. And I'm the last person to say we should be judged on those decisions for the rest of our lives."
Quinn's expression relaxed slightly, the defensiveness retreating in recognition of mutual regret. She slouched against the benches beside him as a strange urge to laugh came over her suddenly. Maybe it was just the humour of the damned.
"Things are a mess, aren't they?"
"Yeah," he agreed, rubbing a hand over his eyes.
"And through it all glee club endures," Quinn continued after a moment. "We'll still go to Sectionals tomorrow night. We'll stand and we'll sing and we'll smile and for a few minutes, everything will be subsumed into a carefully edited performance again."
"Life's a show and all the world's a stage."
"Personal motto?"
His lips cracked in a dry smile. "Observation."
"So we can safely assume you're still coming to Sectionals then?"
He spared her a quick glance, brow furrowed in confusion. Quinn just shrugged, feigning innocence though her mouth curled playfully. "I thought perhaps the untrainables of New Directions had managed to break even your indomitable spirit of competition."
Jesse grimaced, as if the very memory of her teammates' musical efforts pained him. Quinn bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.
"If anyone could, it would be them," he grumbled. "You lot will insist on recruiting every hapless soul who passes through your school, regardless of their ability to conform to basic rhythm, pitch and timing. The lost and found bin of McKinley misfits."
"Hey, we rejected Sugar, and look where that got us."
Jesse let his head drop back with a groan. "So instead you give me a wannabe gigolo to try and mould into a workable member of a supposedly winning team? As if I didn't have enough mules to corral already."
"You can thank Finn for that bright idea. Just be grateful he didn't pull in the band boys too. He was worried about our numbers." She slanted a curious gaze his way. "Well, until your groupies turned up, that is."
Jesse ignored the implicit intrigue in her comment. He wasn't about to go into the details of that sordid little arrangement.
"Seriously, who the hell is that kid anyway?"
He couldn't recall the floppy blonde from his previous sojourn in New Directions, but the guy certainly seemed to have been welcomed back with open arms. Jesse snorted softly. Alright for some. He didn't overly care about their past entanglements as a rule, but the boy's penchant for gyrating and grinding his way through every number was just grating enough to earn his irritation.
"And can someone please remind him that he's not auditioning for a Disney porno."
Quinn kicked his boot in half-hearted reprimand, not bothering to hide her amusement. "Sometimes it feels like the glee club is halfway there already, what with the endlessly switching hook ups that go on."
He raised his eyebrows at her in expectation, and she consented to give him the bullet point run down of Sam's history with the club. Namely that they had dated briefly last year before his fling with Mercedes. While Quinn herself had no desire to rekindle the romance with her Aryan twin, she had to admit that she had observed his clumsy attempts to woo back the now-spoken-for Mercedes with no small amount of entertainment.
When she was finished, Jesse gave her a look that was somewhere between apathy and exasperation.
"Is there no-one who doesn't get a turn on the revolving fuck swing of your club?"
Quinn crinkled her nose at his crudeness. She shrugged after a moment, her reply thoughtful.
"Surprisingly, I think Tina and Mike are the most consistent. They just seem to quietly get on with being a couple."
"Ah, so that's the key to having a functional relationship. Being in the background."
"Hmm," she mused before a casting him a smiling side glance. "It's a shame you're both whores for the spotlight, huh?"
His wry grin echoed hers though he didn't meet her face.
"Isn't it."
/o/
The hallways of McKinley were abuzz with frenetic activity. Sequins sparkled under strip lights, polished shoes squeaked and copious amounts of hairspray clogged the air in thick clouds. People ran back and forth, calling to each other in varying volumes and degrees of stress and excitement, the nerves of final preparations in full flow. The whole environment was highly staged, every glance and gesture weighted with anticipation and meaning. Competitors milled about, not-so-subtly passing judgment on their venue and their rivals, as they tried to work off some anxious energy.
New Directions had been sequestered in their choir room for the last twenty minutes, running through some last minute vocal exercises around the piano with Mr. Schue. They were interrupted only when the Troubletones had showed up, ostensibly to wish them luck, before then smugly suggesting that they could always attempt to join their group in the event of a loss. Mr. Schue and Finn had taken such a slight with as much as grace as expected, aggressively reaffirming their commitment to winning and telling them to mind their own upcoming competition. Shelby's girls had just sniggered amongst themselves and turned en masse to leave, Santana blowing a mocking kiss over her shoulder as they did.
Rachel tugged on her taffeta dress, compulsively smoothly down the silk sash with restless fingers as she contemplated her reflection in the illuminated mirrors once more. She should wear green more often she decided, twisting at the waist to further admire the black embroidery against the emerald material that hugged her form. She was privately extremely relieved that Jesse had talked Mr. Schue out of the white polyester suits he had seemed so set on at one point, and his substituted colour scheme complimented her complexion nicely.
A frown settled over the girl in the mirror at the unwelcome direction of her thoughts and Rachel quickly dropped her gaze. She took a deep breath and composed herself, determined to remain completely focused on what mattered, now more than ever.
She looked over at the boys huddled around the piano, still muttering in offended voices about the Troubletones. Rachel had paid barely any attention to the throw away comment from their former teammates, deeming it unworthy of any response since their victory tonight was already assured in her mind. She tried to catch Finn's attention with a smile, but he was too engrossed in giving an earnest pep talk to his fellow members.
Mike suddenly marched past her, face like thunder, and Rachel blinked in surprise at the unusual sight. Curiosity peaked, she quickly moved over to Tina who stood in the corner, staring after her boyfriend with a subdued expression.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah..." Her friend gave a disgruntled sigh. "Just couple stuff."
Rachel's mouth pursed in sympathy but before she could offer any comfort, she was distracted by the sight of Quinn re-entering the room. The two girls locked eyes for a split second before the blonde glanced away without even breaking stride, but not before Rachel glimpsed the knowing smile that crept up her lips.
"I'm going to get some air," she announced abruptly, turning to whisk out the room before Tina could utter a word in reply.
/o/
She hadn't meant to search him out.
Rachel had been wandering the crowded hallways around the auditorium, hoping to see her dads or any other friendly face who might provide a diversion. Anything to drive that arch look on Quinn's face out of her mind. She noticed the Harmony girl, resplendent in a blood red dress and with lipstick to match, glad-handing their public with various other members of the Unitards. Rachel immediately berated herself for not insisting her team also take the opportunity to network, but Mr. Schue had been adamant that a motivational lecture was more important. Unwillingly, the last time she had seen the Gerber Baby duly popped into her head, but she quickly stopped that line of thought before she could recall in detail the call she had made in the wake of that awful evening.
This effort proved to be in vain, much to her chagrin.
She half considered the ludicrous notion that he had been somehow summoned by her mere thoughts, before she reasoned that he was most likely there for the same reason as Harmony. He was an experienced hand at these events after all, and knew well the importance of contacts. She cast an appraising glance over the boy in question as he stood at the far end of the foyer, chatting amicably with an older man with salt and pepper hair who had his back to her. He was dressed to impress as ever. Onyx buttons glinted on his grey waistcoat that was fitted neatly over a silk tie and white collared shirt, the sleeves of which he had rolled up to his forearms in acknowledgement of the hot press of bodies that surrounded them. It was the first time she had seen him in formal wear for some time, and Rachel stubbornly ignored the rebellious butterflies that fluttered through her stomach in response.
Scowling hard to overcompensate, she readied herself to just return the way she'd come. However, she hesitated when she saw Jesse laugh and make a move to leave himself, his companion turning with a smile as they shook hands in farewell.
Rachel froze as she caught a glimpse of the gentleman's face. She recognised him in a heartbeat, they had just been introduced earlier that evening after all. It was one of the judges.
A dozen thoughts raced through her head, suspicions and doubts clamouring for her attention so loudly that she nearly lost sight of him. Shaking herself out of the inertia, Rachel quickly dodged her way through the crush of people who were beginning to enter the auditorium, following after his long strides as best she could without stepping on any toes.
She caught up to him just as they reached the entrance to backstage.
"What was that about?"
She fired the demand at his back like a sniper shot, yet his demeanor displayed only cool curiosity as he turned to take in her sudden and harried appearance before him. Rachel felt her cheeks flush.
"Excuse me?"
She gestured impatiently over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes in accusation. "Why were you talking to him? You didn't have a word did you? Try and tip the scales? Because we don't need your help."
Jesse held her glare evenly, the steely sapphire of his gaze unreadable.
"You really think I would do that?" he replied at last, tone carefully unaffected.
"I think you'll do anything to get what you want."
A flicker of a smirk tugged his lips, and Rachel felt a familiar chord of unease thrum somewhere deep in her gut. She clenched her fingers into the hem of her dress to stop them twisting together.
"Maybe so," he conceded, before his expression turned sober. "But I don't cheat."
"No, you just manipulate."
"Ah, still so bitter," he murmured mockingly, and Rachel jolted as if burned when he reached for her cheek. She jerked back, shoving his hand away.
"Knock it off!" she snapped, hastily removing herself from his immediate proximity, not sure how they had gotten so close so quickly. "Just answer the question, Jesse."
He threw her a dismissive look, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I don't have to explain myself to you."
Rachel drew herself up to her full height and fixed him with her most obstinate glare, as she asserted the full force of her authority.
"I'm team captain, and as team consultant you most certainly do."
He eyed her for a long moment, definite amusement playing at the edge of his mouth, making her feel increasingly churlish in response. Finally, he shrugged.
"I was being sociable. I took his workshop back in L.A."
She frowned, feeling less than inclined to take him at his word about anything.
"You looked pretty friendly."
"I'm a genial kind of guy."
Rachel scoffed. "You've proved again and again you're not above pulling strings. A victory is all that matters to you."
Jesse rolled his eyes, frustration cracking the veneer of detachment, turning his tone combative. "You really think I would risk my professional credibility to help out you lot?"
"As you keep reminding us, it's your reputation at stake too and we all know that's the only thing you value."
He shook his head, as if weary of her presence. "Grow up, Rachel," he muttered, turning his shoulder to leave.
Rachel's eyebrows nearly arched into her hairline with indignation, her mouth falling open. She closed the distance between them before she could stop herself, jutting her chin into his face and blocking his path, her temper unravelling faster than her rationality could reel it in.
"Oh, that's just priceless coming from an eternal playboy who sleeps with any girl with a pretty smile to cover up his own insecurities!"
"Boy, Quinn really bothers you doesn't she?"
Rachel nearly bit through her tongue in the effort it took to stop the retort she wanted to shout at him. He knew exactly how much Quinn bothered her, all the issues she had with the girl and all the hurt it caused, that's what made his betrayal so painful.
She tossed back her hair, refusing to rise to the bait. "I won't stand by and let you screw my team again!"
Rachel forced herself not to flinch as he took a deliberate step forward, bringing them almost chest to chest as he sneered down at her, the cobalt flint of his eyes flashing dangerously.
"Hate to break it to you, Princess, but you have no say in what I do or who I screw any more."
Jesse recognised the familiar armour of pride and cruelty as it settled around him, and he sank into it's embrace willingly. Tension ripped through his muscles as he held her glare, the words coming out on a vindictive growl.
"Who goes in and out of my life, or my bed, is none of your fucking business. I don't answer to you."
Rachel could hear the blood pounding in her ears, could feel the heat radiating from his closeness, and ordered herself to stand her ground. She tried to even out her breathing, to quash the instinct that would have her descend into a slanging match with him right then and there, in the worst possible circumstances.
"Perhaps," she said quietly, proud of how calm she sounded despite every nerve in her body burning in objection. "But someday you're gonna have to answer to yourself. That one honest bit of you left that you're trying so hard to bury in all this attitude."
Jesse gave her an incredulous look. "Your hypocrisy really is astonishing."
Rachel straightened her back, white knuckles hidden inside the folds of her arms. "Oh yeah? So if you don't care about the team and you apparently couldn't care less about me, then why exactly are you here?"
She watched him scowl, saw the twitch in his jaw and the curl of his lips, but he remained silent in his sulking. She permitted herself a thin smile of grim satisfaction.
"So tell me, out of the two of us, who's the bigger hypocrite?"
She didn't wait for an answer. Jesse was careful not to react as Rachel marched away through the now empty hallways, heading back to her team and victory and leaving him in her dust. When he was certain she was out of earshot, he dropped his head with a stifled groan and ran a hand back through his hair, promptly destroying the heavy styling that had managed to tame his usually wayward curls for the evening.
He cursed himself with every name under the sun.
Shortly, the muffled sounds of applause echoed through the school, signalling that the first act was taking to the stage and that he should really be running through final checks with the tech team. Yet rather than making any effort to resume his path to the sound booth, Jesse pressed his back and foot against the nearest wall and softly banged his head against the flaking paint, looking for all the world like the slightly unhinged lost soul he felt like.
She was right of course. He frowned up at the ceiling, once again questioning the sanity of his actions. He could have stayed in L.A., gone to New York, travelled to London and Europe like some of his cohorts. But he'd come back to the dead-eyed pit of Lima. He'd come back here for her. He'd stayed for her. And now he'd done yet another crime she would possibly never forgive him for.
He blew out a sigh of frustration. This was not going to plan. But then things never did with her.
/o/
They were doing Buenos Aries.
Rachel fumed in mute indignation from her spot at the back of the auditorium, glaring so hard at the leader of the Unitards that one might think she was attempting to make the girl spontaneously combust. This was torture. She should be singing that song! The pouting brunette huffed under her breath, trying to dislodge the stubborn cloud of envy and anxiety that had been hovering in the corner of her mind ever since that damn mixer. It was still galling to admit just how good Harmony was, even as Rachel mouthed the lyrics and tapped her foot along with the beat despite herself.
Suddenly the door cracked open beside her, throwing a patch of light into the dark auditorium, much to the vexation of the nearest audience row. She quickly jumped up and followed the beckoning finger that summoned her back into the hallway. Closing the heavy door as quietly as she could behind her, Rachel's expression abruptly soured as she saw just who had been sent to collect her.
"Still sneaking off to watch the competition, I see."
She ignored the sly dig, setting her face to a mask of indifference in response.
"What do you want, Quinn?"
The blonde raised a bored eyebrow, clearly as unenthused with the situation as her charge was. She twirled a slender hand over her shoulder in a vague gesture. "Mr. Schue wants us all to assemble for the obligatory pre-show spiel."
"Fine."
Rachel quickly stepped around the cheerleader, barely sparing her a glance as she made to set off towards the choir room. She was stopped when a honeyed voice piped up behind her, too sweet to be anything but poison.
"Such a frosty tone," Quinn remarked idly, eyes carefully averted as she tucked a lock of hair under the velvet of her Alice band. "I do hope nothing is amiss with our lustrous team star."
Rachel pressed her lips together so hard, they went briefly white. She maintained a dignified silence as she frantically urged her legs to keep moving, to pull her free of the viscid web she could feel being spun around her better judgement.
Quinn gave an affected sigh, her tone abrasively innocent. "And here I was thinking we might just make it through one Sectionals without our tradition of a romantic crisis. What a pity. Things seemed to be going so well between the two of you."
Layers of skirt and petticoat flared out around her knees as Rachel spun on her heel, gaze narrowed in accusation as she finally faced her teammate. "Just what are you talking about?"
"Why, Finn of course," Quinn replied with a smile, one that quickly turned sharp. "Who else would I be talking about?"
The unspoken challenge hung in the air, as brittle as the tension that seemed to stretch taught between the two teenagers. Rachel knew she should leave, that she shouldn't indulge in this old destructive rivalry, that it could only end badly. Yet standing there, faced with the provocative crook of those lips and the razor glint of those feline eyes, she could feel the reckless call of her younger, impulsive self demanding retribution.
"You have no idea what you're doing."
"I know exactly what I'm doing," Quinn corrected with ruthless clarity, flicking her eyes over the girl in front of her with barely concealed contempt. "Unlike some people."
Rachel clenched her fists into the folds of her dress, biting the words out with as little emotion as she could manage.
"He's just using you to hurt me."
"Well, what goes around comes around," the other girl returned breezily, a smirk of vindication falling across her lips. "Don't whine just because you finally know how it feels."
Rachel's brows knitted together, her posture stiffening warily as Quinn stepped closer.
"It's not fun watching another girl go after your guy, is it?"
"Jesse isn't –"
"Still," Quinn cut off her objection with a dismissive flick of her wrist, "you got what you wanted in the end, didn't you? So what's the problem?"
Rachel opened her mouth, then closed it, not trusting herself to speak. She held Quinn's gaze stubbornly, her painfully expressive eyes brimming with all the resentment she couldn't bring herself to voice.
The former Cheerio merely observed the wordless retort with a twisted sense of gratification. It wasn't often she managed to shut Rachel Berry up after all, and it was a victory she was determined to savour. She could see the other girl's mouth pinch in anger, the conflicted instincts warring across her face, desperately trying to summon an argument she could use to strike back. Quinn returned the frustrated hostility with a saccharine smile, proceeding to waltz past her teammate without another look.
"He's a hell of a better kisser though," she threw out carelessly, a parting twist of the knife. "I can see why you didn't want to give him up."
Quinn nearly missed the soft, shuddering breath that broke the prideful silence behind her.
/o/
The bathroom door burst open with as much force as the weighted safety hinge would allow, which wasn't much but it was enough to shatter the stillness and startle anyone who might have been currently inside. Rachel paid no mind to any such concerns, but was thankful however to find herself alone once on the other side. Her feet had steered her there unthinkingly, seeking out the familiar facade of privacy, however fragile the illusion was. Fabric rustled and buckled shoes tapped out a sharp, erratic rhythm as she quickly made her way to the nearest sink, bracing her hands on either side of the cracked porcelain with a deep breath.
Rachel Berry was nothing if not a professional. She had needed only a minute or two before she had pulled herself up by the strings Quinn had done her best to cut, summoned her best show face, and returned to the choir room with her head held high. She had taken her place at Finn's side, slipping her hand into his as he looked down at her with a slightly distracted smile. She had nodded along with their teacher's words of inspiration that they all knew by rote, her expression implacably serene with confidence, and her gaze not wavering once towards those silent, perceptive eyes on the other side of the circle.
They were up shortly, Mr. Schue had informed them, and he just knew they were going to do him proud like always and have fun out there. Rachel's face was starting to hurt by the time he was done, but she refused to let her smile drop. It was what was expected after all. She was the one who thrived on competition the most; this was her element, her happy place. Naturally she should shine brightest tonight. She just needed to focus and dazzle like always.
The group broke apart and started chatting amongst themselves, the eagerness of anticipation bouncing between them like a loose pinball as they psyched themselves up. Rachel saw Blaine proudly showing off the new dance move he had perfected, to the appreciating applause of a grinning Kurt. Artie and Sam high-fived something, while Finn left her side to help Rory with his tie that the poor boy had somehow managed to fidget into a tangled knot. Rachel felt a familiar warmth stir in her chest as she cast her eyes over their odd family. This was what mattered. Well, this and winning of course.
Yet she could feel the smile slipping slowly from her face, pulled under by the weight of her traitorous heart. All the harsh words of the last few days seemed to clamour up in a chaotic echo through her mind as she stood there, fighting free of the iron grip of her determination.
She bounced lightly on the balls of her feet in agitation. Suddenly the noise in the choir room was too loud, too jarring, even though she couldn't make out any distinct words. There were too many people, too many eyes that might catch the fumble in her performance. It was too warm in here, the bright lights were giving her a headache. With a flutter of panic, Rachel realised she couldn't concentrate through the overload of sensation.
And so she had found herself slipping out the room as inconspicuously as she could manage (a challenge in itself for one whose whole manner commanded attention), and rushing into the solitude of the nearest bathroom. She just needed a moment to collect herself ahead of the show. That was all.
Opening her eyes again, Rachel raised her head and forced herself to meet the reflection that judged her silently though the mirror. She frowned at the paleness of her features, the sheen of her sable eyes and hair standing out in stark contract against the unnatural pallor of her skin. She flexed her fingers around the edge of the sink, her gaze flickering across the unfamiliar expression that stared back, feeling increasingly like she was somehow on the wrong side of the glass.
'So what's the problem?'
What indeed. A frustrated sigh left her lips, her face turning to stare into the white basin even as her thoughts pulled her far away from her surroundings.
The unspeakable truth was that she longed to rail at Quinn over Jesse. She wanted nothing more than to slap that gloating entitlement off her face; to go toe-to-toe in confrontation and furiously demand answers she didn't really want, to questions that were only half-formed. But Rachel knew she couldn't. Her resentful lips were sealed by pride, the volatile emotions kept in check by the binds of her own reasoning. She had no right, no justification; everyone knew that she had relinquished her claim a long time ago. And yet the urge was overwhelming, thrashing against her ribcage and choking her lungs – the anger of a wronged lover that she simply wasn't. And try as she might, she just couldn't seem to impose any acceptable logic to the feeling; couldn't defuse the opposing forces that were trying their damnedest to wrench her reality apart. She felt stuck in limbo, in purgatory, forever held back from truly moving on.
Rachel abruptly yanked away from the mirror, turning to pace across the tiled floor, desperate for order to resume control over her mind. Her steps were tireless as she moved in a tight, anxious weave back and forth. She ordered herself to get a grip, mindful of the urgent importance that she pull herself together. She had to marshal all her single-minded determination and star quality for the imminent performance that would sweep them to victory. She was wasting time.
But her body wasn't listening. She felt her chest heave faster as the barrage of emotions continued to gain momentum, plunging through every buffer she threw up in its path. Her fingers pressed to her temples, attempting to ground the dizzying whirl of her head. Rachel came to a stop in the middle of the room, taken aback by a surge of something dangerously reminiscent of fear. What was she scared of? She frowned, at a loss to explain that particular ingredient in the scrambled stew that was her emotions. Irked, yes. Concerned, perhaps. But not fearful. She began pacing again, her nerves jumpy with bottled energy.
It didn't make sense. Jesse wasn't hers to lose after all. She'd turned away from him a long time ago, back in that yolk-strewn parking lot, and not even the tentative reconciliation upon his return had been enough to make her seriously reconsider her choice. She didn't want him hanging around her. She should be relieved to be free of his unwanted attentions. She scowled at the tile under her feet. He was right – he was free to screw around with whoever he wanted, to carry on marauding through selfish pleasure with the next parade of willing girls all he liked. It shouldn't matter to her. It shouldn't hurt any more.
'You're wrong.'
Rachel faltered to halt again, balling her fists at her sides to hold in the shiver that threatened to quake her body. Air burned in her lungs, causing her head to pound sharply, and she screwed her eyes shut almost pleadingly. Yet the light-headedness and adrenaline only seemed to get worse the more she tried to force herself to take deep, slow breaths. A soft roaring filled her ears, tingles working their way down her extremities until she couldn't feel her fingertips.
The muscles in her legs shook violently and Rachel quickly stumbled to the sink, leaning heavily against the rim. She hung her head and channelled all her effort into somehow staying upright. Real fear certainly had a grip on her now. Everything was going numb and out of focus, her eyes stung and she just couldn't catch enough oxygen. She felt like she was about to faint.
The door thudded again, but the convulsing girl barely registered the footsteps that suddenly intruded upon her humiliating breakdown. She didn't see the feet they belonged to, missed how they pulled up short in surprise before rushing into her field of vision as their owner came to stand in front of her.
"Rachel! Are you okay?"
When the trembling brunette couldn't raise her head or summon her voice, the other girl knew it was very bad. She hesitated for a moment, unsure the best course of action to take. Tina wasn't usually involved in these big dramatic moments that forever seemed to plague the top echelons of their team, and she felt a bit like a secondary player who hadn't been given a script.
"Shall I get someone?" she tried at last, shifting awkwardly on her feet. Their formidable team captain falling to pieces in the girl's bathroom less than fifteen minutes before they were due on stage – this seemed like a crisis better suited for Finn or Kurt or maybe even Mr. Schue...
"No!" Rachel gasped out urgently, grabbing her wrist and finally lifting her head to implore silently with the startled girl.
Tina blinked as she met the wide, frantic eyes of her friend. The student looked closer and studied her teammate's white face, the involuntary spasms that wracked her limbs, the rapid raise and fall of her chest. She thought she recognised the symptoms but it was best to be sure.
"Can you breathe?"
Rachel shook her head, tears leaking down her cheeks as she continued to hyperventilate. The younger girl immediately assumed charge of the familiar situation, her touch firm as she helped guide her friend to a cubicle, where she ordered her to sit down and lower her forehead to her knees. Her voice was steady as she calmly talked Rachel through the steps that would restore normal blood circulation and slow her breathing, ordering her to stamp her feet on the ground and then to watch as Tina slowly raised and lowered her arm repeatedly.
The brunette frowned at such strange requests, but readily complied and was beyond relieved when she felt her body start to respond and her mind begin to clear. After a few minutes, she managed to smile to indicate she was feeling better and Tina ceased ministrations and stepped back, though she continued to observe her carefully.
"T-Thanks."
The word was still a bit croaky, and she quickly cleared her throat and straightened up. Tina shrugged the gratitude off, glancing away a little uncomfortably.
"It's no big deal. My little brother used to have panic attacks before school."
"Ugh, I just feel so embarrassed. Please don't tell anyone! I mean, how can I expect to make it on Broadway if I start breaking down under stress? It's so unprofessional!"
Tina frowned as she listened to Rachel bemoan in typical dramatic fashion. "It's not a weakness," she pointed out quietly. "It's a human reaction."
The other girl shook her head to clear the last of the fog and stood up a little unsteadily. "I've never had one before," she hastened to clarify as she exited the cubicle and returned to the mirrors, anxious to check her appearance after the little episode.
"And you may never have one again," came the somewhat terse reply from behind her. "Some other people have to learn to manage repeat occurrences throughout their lives. It's nothing to be ashamed of."
Rachel winced inwardly, suddenly just recalling that she was treading on a personal issue for Tina. She nodded and kept her mouth shut.
"What do you think triggered it?"
She gave a slight start, quickly covering it by rearranging the dragonfly clip in her hair. "I – I don't know."
Tina looked thoughtful. "It's just... something usually sets it off, a build up of stress about something."
"Well, I do have a lot going right now, I suppose." Rachel evaded the reflected gaze of her companion, determined not to dwell on where her thoughts had been leading her recently. She shrugged. "I guess I've been a bit obsessive about the musical and my NYADA application."
Tina nodded, though doubt still creased her brow. Rachel quickly breezed around, all bright smiles and graceful poise once more, her tone full of that ardent dedication and bossiness that her team knew so well.
"Anyway, thanks again." She caught the slightly surprised girl in a quick hug before whirling past her in a swish of shiny synthetic and dark hair. "But I'm good now. Come on, I want to make sure everyone remembers their starting positions and to run through the harmonies on the final verse once last time, Sam was having trouble with that one note. If he can't reach it, he'll have to just mime that line, I'm sure he'll understand that it's for the benefit of the team –"
Tina rolled her eyes behind her back, but couldn't help the smile of relief that crossed her lips at the assurance that their irrepressible leader was back in full command once more.
/o/
"I didn't count on that one."
Jesse only just managed to suppress the scathing arch of his eyebrows as he glanced over at the man who stood beside him. New Directions were on imminently and they were waiting in the wings of backstage, Will stroking his chin with a fretful expression as he considered the act that had just ended. It was almost unbelievable how stunned Schuester was every time he saw just how good the other teams on the circuit were. It was like the man was part ostrich, blissfully content in willful ignorance.
The applause had died down and the low murmur of chatter had resumed in the auditorium beyond, as their audience waited for the final group to take to the stage. Activity flurried around him as crew prepared sounds and lights, and the McKinley kids appeared through the darkness in a protective huddle. Excited whispers and the buzz of anticipation filled the air, and Will hastily moved off to clasp hands and pat shoulders in encouragement, but Jesse had eyes for only one cast member.
She was keeping to the edges of the shadows, hovering a bit apart from her teammates, but even the low light of their surroundings couldn't quite hide the tension that tightened her features. Her eyes darted restlessly, unable to settle, her smile a little too fixed to be natural. Jesse frowned in concern. Even taking into account their less than pleasant confrontation earlier, he truly hadn't expected to see such obvious evidence of disquiet in her manner. Normally, the deep breath before a performance would have her aglow with eager energy, full of nothing but thrill and determination, impatient to be out there doing what she was destined for. Usually, nothing could undermine that self confidence of talent.
The cue was soon given and the group dutifully made their way towards the stage, towards him. Jesse hesitated, wary of making things worse, but found that he just couldn't let her pass by without at least trying. He stepped up to intercept her path, speaking low enough not to be overheard.
"What happened?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," she dismissed, not stopping to look at him.
"Rachel."
She was nearly past him when he laid his hand against her stomach with just enough pressure to momentarily bring her to a halt. He felt her stiffen as she finally glanced up at him, gaze defiant even as their shoulders were almost brushing in the proximity of the narrow wings. Jesse felt the worry deepen as he glimpsed the hint of red around her eyes, impossible to miss at this distance, despite the perfectly reapplied mascara. He felt something painful lodge in his throat but kept any comment to himself, all too aware that she didn't want to be reminded of just how well he could read her.
"I'm fine," she snapped in a harsh mutter. "Not that it's any of your business."
With that she set her jaw and pulled free of his loose embrace, stalking off to join the others in preparation. Jesse watched her go, the polite applause that preceded the beginning of their set list only a muted rumble in his ears. He saw her flash a false smile at Finn before taking her place on the other side of the stage. Of course, her monolith of a partner didn't notice anything was amiss with his better half. Which didn't surprise Jesse at all, but aggravated him so much he had curb the impulse to walk away from the entire scene.
He knew Rachel wouldn't talk to him, but he hoped she would talk to someone. He had half a thought to reach out to the boys, but quickly realised that her best friends would likely prove much more perceptive than her boyfriend. Despite all their self absorbance, they actually seemed to have a sense of insight when it came to the people they cared about. Having worked with them all on West Side Story, Jesse could see for himself the bond they had, how close Rachel had drawn to Blaine as well as Kurt. They would check in with her tonight at some point, he reassured himself. They'd make sure she was alright.
He glimpsed Schuester over his shoulder, the teacher's eyes misty with fondness and pride, and the boy barely kept the displeasure from his lips at the misplaced sense of accomplishment. Jesse focussed all his attention on the stage as the lights came up and the music kicked in, ready to showcase the finished result of all of his hard work.
/o/
He had watched the results from the shadows, opting not to join Schuester on stage with his team, knowing full well his presence would be resented. Normally he wouldn't have cared. Normally he would have just taken his rightful place in the spotlight, claimed his well deserved accolades and basked in the glory without a second thought for the whims of others. But it didn't feel right this time. The fact was that he remained an outsider here, and it was an unsettling sensation for one who had previously experienced life from the epicentre of success and adoring attention. So he'd hung back, kept his distance and fought against every natural instinct he possessed.
The victory hadn't been a surprise to him (although the ecstatic reaction of the Unitards to their third placement was rather more bewildering), but he'd still smiled to know that her journey to Nationals hadn't been derailed despite his earlier misgivings. Their performance had been strong, all things considered, and she hadn't put a foot or note wrong. Indeed she had attacked each solo with more heart and soul than he could recall in any of the prior rehearsals, elevating the whole standard of the songs far beyond the reach of their rivals.
It was her reaction that had undone him.
Watching from the sidelines as New Directions whooped and cheered and embraced the typically oversized trophy, it was obvious to him if no-one else that their star player was falling short of her usual levels of exuberance. She made a good effort, quick to answer every social cue with a beaming grin and squealing hug, not to be outdone by her teammates in the spectacle of celebration. Yet he could see the fake stretch behind the smile, the way she subtly avoided any accidental proximity to Quinn, the crack in the show face that betrayed her. She was hurting and angry, and Jesse felt the familiar self-loathing root a little deeper into his heart.
He didn't want to fight with her. He didn't mean to. He had good intentions buried somewhere inside, but they always seemed to get twisted into gnarls of confusion and resentment and pride whenever they confronted each other. He glanced back up just in time to see Finn swoop down on his girlfriend, planting a victorious kiss on her lips, and the sight caused something feral to bite and gnaw inside his ribs.
His bad mood descended quickly, a thunderous storm that instantly drowned out any satisfaction he might have gleaned from the win. Jesse recognised the feeling enough to know it was in his interests to get out, to leave before he did something else he would inevitably regret, and that twinge of warning was enough to send him away. Away from the auditorium, away from unwelcome eyes, away from her.
When the fresh air finally washed over him, he found it offered little relief to the tempest of frustration that was crashing down on his mind. He needed a fucking cigarette. Anything to occupy his hands and deflect the urge to hit something. Hard. Jesse closed his eyes and tried to control the destructive energy that raged through his veins, knotting his muscles and turning his nerves to razor wire, desperately seeking an outlet.
He hated himself. He hated Hudson. And he hated her.
He hated the way she made him feel. He hated that remorse still squeezed his heart even though he was technically the single one and therefore free to fool around with whoever he wanted. The fact that Quinn was also currently single was actually a step of improvement in his make out partners. And yet the guilt would not leave him, if anything it intensified more with every passing day.
Even though Rachel had no right to reproach him. Even though she had made no indication that she was ever willing to fledge from the stifling safety of Hudson's nest. Yes, she was clearly still upset, but the fact remained that all this heartache had changed precisely nothing. Everything was just even worse than it had been before, and Jesse hated that he was the one who had to carry this burden, that he had somehow failed to purge this fucking toxin from his system.
Snapping his eyes open, he kicked out at the nearest object to his fuming temper. He relished the blunt force impact as his foot collided with the heavy bin, sending it tipping over to spill its contents down the school steps with a deeply satisfying crash. Jesse stood in the quiet that followed, his pulse still refusing to settle despite the cathartic violence. He watched the trash slowly drift away on the night's current for a long minute, before finally letting out a harsh exhale and following suit. He jumped the last few steps and took a direct route to his car, the heavy thud of his designer boots the only sound that accompanied him into the darkness.
He skipped the victory party.
Rachel and Quinn were the only ones to notice.
~o~
