Getting It Right – Uneasy Truce
Jesse had given up trying to concentrate about ten minutes ago and resorted to etching out a geometric maze over the corner of his notebook. Not his finest work perhaps, he conceded as he pulled back with a long stretch, but it was the best he was going to manage in this unsupervised kindergarten.
A loud burst of laughter cut through the boisterous chatter and drew his attention over his shoulder, where some of the boys of New Directions were gathered around one of their phones, watching something he would wager would garner them a swift detention if any authority figures happened to pass by. Fortunately for them however, their teacher was taking his sweet ass time in showing up today, so they could indulge at their leisure. Jesse didn't miss the longing look Finn cast towards the male huddle at the back of the choir room, but his participation in the debauchery was stayed by the arm that was firmly wrapped around his, demanding his presence as well as his attention stayed with the girl beside him.
The musical chime of her voice was unmistakable even amongst the surrounding raucous of the classroom, as bright and clear and commanding as ever. The background scenery seemed to fall away into insignificance, eclipsed by a familiar tunnel vision as Jesse furtively drew his hungry eyes over her figure once again. In the space of a heartbeat he retraced every quirk of her form and movements. How she shifted in her seat with restless energy and anticipation. The way her lips parted in a laugh and moved in an eager stream of words that her boyfriend barely responded to. The curves of her sweater and hem of her skirt. The shape of her thigh and the cross of her legs.
God, it had been a long ten days.
She had cut her hair over the winter break he noticed. Her bangs were gone and it was more like the style it had been when they had first met, the sleek black locks falling loose around her shoulders. Between that and the familiar navy knee socks she wore (that made him think of rain soaked black stockings for some reason), the sense of deja vu was downright uncomfortable. If he squinted, for the smallest second, he could almost convince himself he had fallen into one of his more pleasant memories.
Except it wasn't his hand she was grasping. It wasn't his side she was leaning into. It wasn't his face her eyes were fixed on.
Not any more.
Jesse felt his gaze lingering and reluctantly forced it away. He didn't know whether to be grateful or not for the distraction when Blaine chose that moment to join Mike on the floor beside the piano, both boys attempting to bop around to the discordant sounds of the band tuning their instruments next to them. Kurt cheered encouragingly, Tina laughed, and Jesse seriously debated whether he could get away with barging into the staff room and dragging Schuester out by his skinny tie and elbow patches.
Flipping the paper in his lap over to a fresh sheet, he found himself frowning down at the blank page that stared back at him.
A clean slate or a dereliction of duty, depending on how generous one was feeling.
The future never used to be daunting, unknown and uncertain, and such a state of impasse was intolerable for someone like him. It was time to take control again. As wretched as Christmas had been, perhaps the hiatus had been necessary. He had used the enforced time and space to regroup, to pay some overdue consideration to his long term plans, and had come back determined to throw himself into the work required to get there. This wasn't just her final year in Ohio after all.
"Finn, give me a drum roll!"
Everyone turned their attention to the doorway, the excited chatter only intensifying as their scattershot teacher finally deigned to make his entrance, without a hint of contrition or explanation for his tardiness. Not that Jesse could really reprimand such selfish behaviour himself – but still. He watched with a familiar sense of malaise as Schuester bounded over to his beloved whiteboard to scrawl his pearl of wisdom for the week, accompanied dutifully by Finn's enthusiastic drumming.
"Yes, I'm asking Miss Pillsbury to marry me!"
Well, that was an interesting way to start the first practice of the new term. Not with a reflection on Sectionals, not with a plan of action for Regionals, but with a personal ego project.
"This is the kind of news you share with your family, and you guys are my family."
Jesse raised his eyebrows in open incredulity, a reaction that went unnoticed as Will continued to gush to a chorus of 'awws' from his ever obedient children.
Seriously? Did this man have no life outside this choir room? No adult friends? No actual family? Why did he think they would even care about any of this? Except, judging by the enthused response around him, they evidently did (or they had simply learnt it was easier to pretend they did). Jesse groaned under his breath, already feeling a headache starting to encroach at the thought of what he would have to endure for this week's themed musical assignment.
"We're so happy for you, Mr. Schue."
"That's brilliant!"
"Yeah, we totally don't think you'll screw it up this time."
A smile twitched his lips at the sarcastic mutter, uttered in that familiar bored drawl and almost lost under the cheerleading of her teammates. At least he wasn't alone in his distaste. He almost looked around but was distracted by the volley of questionable artistic suggestions that started to fly over his head.
"Anything by Celine Dion or Ed Sheeran would be perfect!"
"Nah, gotta have a bit of attitude. Van Halen or Stone Roses or Poison would be better –"
"It's meant to be romantic, Puck!"
"Can't go wrong with classic Whitney, I reckon."
"Or Rihanna or Beyoncé if you want something more contemporary."
"Bieber has some good songs –"
"No he doesn't. Aerosmith on the other hand –"
"Journey again? I mean it's practically your theme tune at this point."
"Oh! Oh! Taylor Swift!"
Jesse could see this entire session (not to mention his sanity) descending into a hot mess of inane wedding planning if this didn't end soon. Was this really how they wanted to waste their precious time? Perhaps New Directions was secretly a commune of unpaid creative interns, one that existed solely to prop up their leader's chronic lack of imagination. As Kurt mentioned something about glitter bombing doves and white tuxedos, Jesse rolled his eyes so hard it almost hurt. For fuck's sake. Being forcibly recruited into Schuester's matrimonial wet dream was not what he'd signed up for.
Rachel almost felt sorry for their consultant as she saw him slouch a little lower in his chair and cross his arms in a manner that warned his tolerance for this whole conversation was running very thin. His lean frame was tense with repressed ire, his chin angled down as he glared sullenly at Mr. Schue from under a brow of dark curls that had grown a little longer and wilder over the short break.
"How about a rousing rendition of Marriage is for Old Folks?" he suggested abruptly, his expression deadpan even as his tone dripped with snark.
Rachel quickly stifled the impetuous laugh that threatened to escape her, biting her lip into a reluctant smile. She must have made some sound despite herself as she saw him glance over, bringing their eyes to accidentally meet for the briefest moment. Rachel thought she saw the corners of his mouth soften in shared amusement, before she quickly looked down and tried to press her own into a straight line.
Mr. Schue frowned in exception but seemed to finally catch onto the pointed dissatisfaction of their somewhat impatient advisor. He clapped his hands together, summoning the attention of the still loudly debating teens.
"Well, that's a great start on this week's assignment, guys. I look forward to hearing all your proposal choices for knocking Miss Pillsbury's well washed socks off! But for now, why don't we get back into the swing of things with some vocal warm ups –"
There was a scrape of chairs as people jumped down to receive the sheet music that Mr. Schue pulled from his trusty satchel with all the flourish of a magician whipping flowers out of a hat. Rachel stood up before Finn, refusing to relinquish the safety of his hand as she all but yanked him behind her in her unrequited eagerness to get stuck back into practice.
She glimpsed Tina and Mike huddled by the piano, all whispering giggles and loving glances, and couldn't not smile at the sight of her friend's happiness. It seemed their little tiff from Sectionals was well and truly mended. It was funny how much more Tina grinned and laughed these days, even as her wardrobe remained steadfastly dark and alternative. She was probably the sunniest goth in the state. It wasn't all due to her boyfriend of course, but their relationship certainly seemed to have bolstered a whole new self confidence and enthusiasm in the junior.
Rachel's eyes fell away slowly. Tina had filled her in over the break, excited to share the good news that Mike had decided to apply to dance schools after all, and she had to admit she was a little surprised to learn the lengths the girl had gone to on his behalf. As pleased as she was for them, there was no denying that some selfish part of her had been just a little jealous. Hearing the passion with which Tina talked about Mike's dreams had pressed on an old bruise of resentment deep inside Rachel. She had found herself wondering what that felt like – to have the unconditional support of someone you loved, one who only ever pushed you on to bigger and better things, who invested in your future so whole-heartedly.
Wincing in guilt, Rachel immediately reminded herself that she didn't need to wonder. Wiping the frown from her face and replacing it with a blinding smile, she tugged on his arm and pulled him over to Artie and Rory to work on scales, doing her best to ignore the warm gaze that followed her movements and prickled the back of her neck.
/o/
I love dancing
Crazy romancing
Fellas advancing constantly
Rachel smiled as the song steadily grew to fill the auditorium, savouring each powerful note and taking a silly amount of pleasure in the playful lyrics as she embraced her inner Liza with reckless abandon. She laughed as Kurt twirled her into his chest, the high and clear timber of his voice embracing her just as much as his arms did.
I'm exploding
With youth and with zest
Who needs corroding
In some vulture's nest?
I've gotta fly my wings
Go places, do things
My freedom bell's really
Gonna ring!
They continued to dance around each other as Kurt picked up the verse, Rachel feeling an impish urge to reach up and ruffle his hair, before beating a hasty retreat as he chased her across the stage in retaliation. She escaped into the scaffolding set that had been assembled for the musical, still managing to continue their performance despite her giggles.
I'm not ready
To quit bein' free
And I'm not willing
To stop being me
I've gotta sing my song
Why should I belong
To some guy who says
That I'm wrong?
God, she had nearly forgotten how good it felt to just sing – for the pure, unbridled joy of it. Without judgement, pressure or restraint. To remind herself that it wasn't only talent that drove her ceaseless ambition, but love. That filling her day with music and meaning and stories and song, ridiculous or otherwise, was what she lived for. The only thing she ever wanted to do with her life.
She grinned as Kurt caught her around the waist, his laughter echoing in her ears as they stumbled in a graceless circle before pulling apart again for the final verses. The lack of accompaniment didn't bother either vocalist, the harmonious pitch of their voices more than enough to do the song the justice it deserved. Rachel felt an almost freeing sense of glee as she let herself go, belting out the lyrics with full theatricality. She spread her arms out, embellishing each cheeky line with exaggerated gestures and expressions, and her duetting partner was more than happy to join in with equal commitment. Their own little piece of Broadway flair in the heart of Lima, Ohio.
Marriage is for old folks!
Old folks, not for me!
One husband
One wife
Whaddya got?
Two people sentenced for life!
The two friends beamed at each other as the song ended, a touch breathless from their childish antics; the careless exertion of just having fun. Rachel fought an eye roll as she watched Kurt immediately set about fastidiously fixing his hair. She had barely managed to move one strand out of place despite her best efforts, producted as it was to within an inch of its life. He and Blaine were getting as bad as each other.
"That was good!"
"Yes, it was a rather impressive performance to pull off on the fly I must admit," he remarked distractedly, busy readjusting the lapels of his jacket. "Of course, you know that Nina Simone did it originally, don't you?"
"Of course," Rachel huffed. "But it still suited Liza down to a tee."
Kurt chuckled which she took to be a gracious agreement with her assessment. She smiled and moved off to collect her sweater from the top of the piano, though she was still far too warm to put it back on yet.
"So what made you want to sing that?" he asked at last, curiosity getting the better of him. "Not really in keeping with this week's theme, is it?"
Rachel shrugged, averting her face. "Just... had it in my head all day."
Kurt said nothing as he watched her walk slowly downstage and stand with her back to him, teasing the fabric in her hands in distant thought as she stared out into their empty audience. He could almost see the weight settling on her shoulders, crushing the carefree joy from her slight figure, and it worried him more than he would admit. It wasn't like Rachel to keep things so bottled up, to suffer in silence. At least... it didn't used to be.
With a sudden sigh, as if she had been holding her breath without realising it, she lowered herself down to perch on the edge of the stage.
Kurt wasn't fond of being ignored as a rule so he wasted no time in reminding her of his presence, his new Chelsea boots chapping out a sharp approach as he strode over to join her.
"Well, I'm glad it made you laugh at least," he said as he came to sit beside her on the apron. "You've seemed a little..." He paused to search for the right word, irritated at his lack of eloquence. "Lost, lately."
Rachel managed a half smile at his observation. If only he knew how right he was.
Every day it felt like her world was tipping ever further askew, a disorienting sensation as if the pages of her life were being rewritten under her feet. Somehow, Little Red Riding Hood had wandered off the track of her pre-destined story, and was now so deep into the woods that all she could do was fumble in the darkness and desperately run from the primal howls that threatened to devour her whole.
She shrugged her shoulders noncommittally, not particularly wanting to talk about it, but not wanting to lie to Kurt either. To be honest, she wasn't even sure what she could say if she tried. Her thoughts and feelings were in such bitter conflict with each other that a coherent conversation was probably beyond her capabilities at the moment anyway.
Kurt cocked his head as he regarded his unusually subdued best friend, unable to quite place the source of mild concern that pestered him. The ladybug sweater was balled up in her hands, as if she were trying to wring out her anxiety through sheer force. Her eyes shifted distractedly, struggling to keep up with the worries that creased her brow so frequently these days.
"You're going to get frown lines if you keep this up," he warned semi-seriously. "And those wrinkles don't go away."
Rachel snorted a laugh and shoved his shoulder, her face finally relaxing into a teasing smile that drew a grin from him in return.
"That's better," he declared, chucking her chin affectionately. "Laughter lines are much sexier."
She rolled her eyes, falling quiet again though she made an effort to smooth out her forehead. Letting out a breath, she waved her hand a little in an effort to articulate some form of explanation. She didn't want Kurt to start fussing over her too closely, not on top of everything else.
"I think I'm finding this year maybe a little overwhelming," she admitted at last. "I mean, we've only got a few months left – and then what? Plus it's a lot of pressure: trying to keep the club on track for Nationals, a leading role in the musical, final exams, the NYADA audition –"
"If we even get one," he muttered.
She threw him a disapproving look, even as she fought to push aside her own panic over that subject.
Clenching a little harder into her sweater, she stared down at her feet as they dangled over the drop of the stage. Her socks had slipped a little during the exuberant performance and she absently tugged them back up to her knees, running her fingers over the worn fabric with the touch of an old friend. The elastic was starting to go on these ones, but she just couldn't bring herself to throw them out yet.
She could feel Kurt's sharp eye still lingering on her face, and hastily pushed on. There were just too many worries to keep track of, and honestly, she really did have far greater things to stress over than the sexual misadventures of her unworthy ex.
"You know what I mean though. Everything just seems to have gotten so... real all of a sudden. All my life I've been planning for the promise of the future over the pain of the present, wishing it would just hurry and make things better, thinking there was some kind of cosmic agreement in place. And now it's turning up and it's like: 'So, everything you thought I would be? Yeah, I'm not convinced I can do that.'"
Kurt's brow pinched in empathy, even as he sought to lift her mood the only way he knew how.
"Don't go getting a martyr complex on me now."
She scoffed. "I wouldn't dare encroach on your territory like that."
He narrowed his eyes in mock offence, even as the two friends played idle footsie where their legs swung against the stage. Still contemplating her words, Kurt leaned back on his palms and let out a forlorn sigh.
"Well, I can certainly relate to a bad case of the senior blues," he conceded, tilting his head up with a pout. "This entire year has felt like an exercise in watching all my ambitions go down the toilet. Senior Class President, Tony, NYADA..."
He looked back down as he felt her hand squeeze his knee, her face full of forced determination.
"Hey, the fat lady ain't sung on that one yet," she insisted gently. "Let's save the Kleenex and ice cream for when things get really dire."
Kurt raised a dubious eyebrow at her faith in his chances, but sensed her resolve was not up for debate on this issue right now. Instead he nudged her shoulder with a sly smile.
"Well, thank god we have two hot guys to take the edge off it all, huh?"
Rachel smiled a little, a familiar weight of comfort settling in her chest at the thought of her sweet boyfriend. Finn really was her anchor in this sea of uncertainty. Her love for him had been the one constant in all the upheaval of the last three years. It had been the intense focus of her world in a way only stardom had been before, and that was something special. And his love for her had helped bring her into this new phase of acceptance and happiness in her life. It had changed Rachel for the better.
"How was your winter break anyway?"
She blinked as Kurt's question intruded on her thoughts, only to find he had moved on to examining his cuticles with a look of consternation.
"It was OK. Finn got me a necklace."
"Another one," he remarked dryly. "That's a bit uninspired, even for him."
"Shut up," she scolded with a smile. "It was very nice actually."
Her fingers moved to her neck automatically, before remembering that she was wearing her topaz choker today. Dropping her hand with a small frown, she wondered why she hadn't thought to put it on for the first day back at school. True, Finn probably hadn't noticed and he would never hold it against her even if he had, but it was still a thoughtless oversight on her part. She had practically lived in the gold star necklace he had gifted her last year, stubbornly keeping it close to her heart for the long weeks that they had been apart. Anxiously, Rachel struggled to recall if she had even worn her newest gift again since the day he'd given it to her.
She recalled the almost cautious look on his face as he handed it over, as if he expected her to be disappointed it wasn't the earrings that she had been dropping hints about. And she maybe was (a little) but it was still a lovely thing, and she'd been touched by the two interlinked hearts that hung from the delicate chain. It was a symbol of their love and commitment, he explained – to prove he was with her in spirit wherever she was. It was a beautiful sentiment. Yet as she listened to him talk earnestly about their futures, she couldn't help but worry slightly about what had prompted this surge of assurance on his part. It was rather uncharacteristic and somewhat reversed from the normal pattern of their relationship after all. Rachel knew she'd been quiet since Sectionals, distracted, but she thought she'd been concealing it quite well. She berated herself again for unwittingly allowing this insecurity to grow between them.
Rachel had done a lot of thinking over the break. Probably too much. Her compulsive nature had picked over the situation with the same analytical stubbornness she applied to every other challenge in her life. In the long winter nights, she had studiously mapped out the evidence board in her mind and come to the only logical conclusion to the whole thing. Knowing as she did the morally sketchy countenance of her ex and the vindictive streak of Finn's, it only made sense that they had joined forces to inflict their own twisted brand of revenge on them both. It was petty and cruel but shouldn't have been unexpected.
And she shouldn't have let it affect her the way it did.
Setting her jaw, Rachel silently reaffirmed her resolve to the course of action she had settled on over the break. She would take the high road. This was the ultimate test of her personal growth and maturity, and she would prove she was the better person. It was her duty as captain and leader to put personal feelings aside and rebuild the bridges he had so carelessly burnt.
For the good of the team.
She might be somewhat embittered – but she wasn't blinded by it. Rachel knew that Jesse had been a big factor in their decisive victory at Sectionals, as well as the rising performance standards across the team generally. It wasn't good for morale for there to be endless friction and hostility between their MVPs. It was time to end the freeze out.
Kurt knocked her foot in teasing reprimand, drawing her attention back to their conversation once more.
"I thought you weren't supposed to do Christmas anyway?"
"I still do gifts," she corrected, flashing him a flippant grin.
He snorted affectionately. "A girl after Madonna's own heart."
/o/
"Oooh, synchronized!"
Jesse glanced around at the commotion, along with a few other students in the vicinity who proceeded to gasp and snigger at the familiar scene, the casual violence that ran so rampant in these corridors. He caught sight of some hockey jerseys and a kid with a ginger mullet who looked like he'd been plucked straight from a Stephen King miniseries audition for 'Generic 80s Bully No. 4'. Was this really the best McKinley could find to fill the top tier of their hierarchy? Poor pickings indeed.
There were no authority figures around to pull up the snickering jocks, who were already retreating back into the crowd, loudly congratulating themselves on such an inspired move – as if they weren't already about three years too late to the slushie party. To be honest, Jesse suspected they could have done it right in front of a teacher's face, and there would still be zero consequences of any substance. Such was the selective blindness that afflicted both students and faculty alike at this school; a place where consistency and follow through were merely suggestions rather than the rule.
He'd heard some second hand gossip that Sam had joined the synchronized swimming team, which he could only assume was the contrived reason behind such targeted ridicule – though frankly he had been more baffled by the revelation that McKinley even had such a team in the first place (or a pool for that matter). Funny how that little fact had never been mentioned before in all the drama around cash flow for the club and the musical, and he wondered briefly if it would ever be brought up again. It seemed this school had an inexplicably bottomless budget for sports (even the most obscure and ridiculous ones), while New Directions continued to operate on a shoe-string and under the constant threat of cancellation. For god's sake, the cost of maintenance on the pool alone could easily fund the Glee Club for a year.
Jesse again found himself thinking back almost fondly on his alma mater. Carmel had its own sporting prowess of course, but it had also fostered appreciation in the arts and invested heavily in its creative programmes with equal expectations of success. The pressure to deliver perfection in Vocal Adrenaline may have been intense – but it had come with a high status of respect and untouchability that was more than a little addictive. Their accolades had been honoured, their reputations fierce and awed, their futures bright. He had only been able to walk away from it all in the first place because he knew that ultimately he would return. His rightful place with his rightful team. Vocal Adrenaline were winners, the best of the best, and Jesse didn't settle for anything less.
Stepping to the side of the steady stream of teenagers that had resumed bee lines to their next classes, he hung back as he saw Mercedes make her way over to an even wetter-looking than usual Sam. She spoke words he didn't hear, concern evident on her features as she proceeded to tenderly clean away the red slush that covered the blonde's face.
The fleeting sight made something twist and tighten uncomfortably in his gut.
He remembered well the stories she'd told him, the almost daily attacks she'd suffered without any hint of comfort or intervention from her peers or teachers. The humiliation she endured almost dutifully, resigned to the violent disdain that followed her unapologetic personality.
'They hate me. It's just the way things are.'
It had made him angry then. It made him downright incensed now.
He could see her in his mind's eye across the corridor, like a shadow wraith from another lifetime: long hair dripping and hung about her face like a curtain of shame, even as she stuck her chin up and refused to be publicly cowed. Using the sleeves of her sweater to wipe the freezing clumps from her eyes, suppressing a shiver as the ice slipped down her neck. Careful not to engage with any of the jeers as she trudged a well-worn path to the girls bathrooms.
Fresh yolk sliding down her forehead, a flinch he felt under his knuckles, shells crunching beneath his feet –
Jesse pinched his eyes shut with a grimace, quick enough to pass unnoticed in the crowded hallway but not nearly hard enough to dispel the memory. He turned his head away, feeling his jaw crack with tension, his fingers turning white around the strap of his bag.
What right did he have to feel protective and furious on her behalf, when he was no better? He knew he was reaching new levels of hypocrisy, and yet the instinct was beyond any scope of reason. Reprimanding logic did nothing to diminish the violent urges he felt at the thought of the abuse that had been so ritual to her.
Jesse hated feeling powerless, hated the useless anger that burned up his chest, hated the knowledge that he was helpless to take back every hurt she had suffered including his own. Hell, he couldn't even protect her from himself. From all the fury and frustration that had nowhere to go but inwards. He may deserve the scars of such destructive emotions – but she didn't.
Forcing himself to walk on, Jesse consoled himself with the only course of action he could take from the sidelines of her life. He had wronged her in so many ways but he would make amends where he could. He could make sure none of the McKinley jocks even thought of raising a finger against her again. Just let the ginger pimple and his sidekicks try and pull that shit on Rachel while he was around.
Jesse smiled darkly at the thought.
/o/
"I was surprised to get your message."
She almost jumped at the sudden sound of his voice, and immediately cursed herself for not picking a table that faced the door. Rachel didn't like getting caught unawares, and yet he always seemed to find a way of sneaking up on her. Sitting up primly in her chair, she spared him only a glance of acknowledgement before returning her attention to the coffee cup she spun slowly in her hands.
"No doubt," she replied coolly. "But one of us had to be the bigger person."
He chose not to reply, instead sliding silently into the seat opposite her, his movements easy and casual but expression carefully stoic.
"I thought we should try to clear the air."
She had actually considered doing it by phone, but deep down she knew this was something she needed to do face to face. To prove to them both that she could put it behind her. Lifting her head, she finally met his eyes.
"And it was probably best to do it in a public place. Less chance of... unpleasantness."
He looked amused at that. Rachel ignored the unspoken comment and took a sip of the still too hot coffee, using the pause to gather her composure and remind herself of her carefully prepared speech. She glanced about the unfamiliar cafe as she did, taking comfort from the steady thrum of activity and background murmur of mundane conversations. The Lima Bean might be her preferred caffeine spot, but she wasn't prepared to take the chance of running into any acquaintances during this particular meeting.
When she turned back, he was giving his order to the waiter that had appeared at her elbow. Once she had his full attention again, she linked her fingers and pressed her palms down on the table, making sure to keep her voice dispassionate and expression blank, every gesture calculated in advance for maximum control of the delicate situation.
"I've had some time to think," she began carefully, ready to explain her unexpected summoning. "And I accept now that I was just shocked about the whole thing. Quinn, I mean. My behaviour was maybe a little... unwarranted."
Jesse raised a curious eyebrow but otherwise didn't react to her admission. Rachel stamped down the flutter of apprehension, refusing to break the silent challenge of his gaze. She stared back just as hard and pressed on.
"I still think it's a terrible idea," she rebuked tartly, before quickly catching herself. "But you're right. It was none of my business. Frankly, I should have expected something like this from her, from you both. Heartless flings are your fortes after all. Maybe you're perfect for each other."
A droll smile had crept onto his lips as she spoke, though the humour didn't reach his eyes.
"I do hope your acting is more convincing in the musical."
Rachel stiffened in offence but before she could utter a reply, they were interrupted by the arrival of his espresso. Forced to bite her tongue and hamstrung by her own choice of venue, she settled for glaring at him in between the waiter's arms. When they were alone again, he resumed speaking before she had a chance to castigate him for his slight.
"Am I allowed to ask for the reason behind this magnanimous gesture?"
Rachel took a deep breath and tried to curb her argumentative nature. He was watching her expectantly and she wracked her brain for this part of her prepared script, determined to retain command of the conversation. A balance of power that she could feel being expertly extracted from her grip.
"We still have to work together," she pointed out evenly. "It's in the best interests of the team for us to make peace. We don't need any more distractions."
Jesse examined her with an inscrutable gaze, one that made her feel disproportionately uneasy. She was thankful again for the relative safety of their location. Finally, he nodded slowly and she had to stop herself from letting out a sigh of relief that he accepted her reasoning without question. He didn't need to know about the mental gymnastics it had taken to get her there.
She relaxed a little in her seat and pulled her drink back to her lips. She was glad there was a professional agreement. Maybe that would help reduce the exhausting tension that had built up between them. And hopefully that would help settle her restless nights.
"Good," she found herself saying, starting to ramble to fill the quiet. "I think you'd agree that Sectionals was a little... difficult."
He nearly smiled at her choice of euphemism. She didn't even know the half of it.
"Not that you could tell from your performance," he remarked at last. "You certainly brought your A game out to play."
"Well, we had good song choices too," she mumbled, a little awkward in the unexpected praise. She wasn't sure why she was being bashful around him all of a sudden. Maybe she felt a little guilty that she had used the fraught emotion of their fight to enhance her performance, even if it was subconscious at the time.
Jesse seemed to read her thoughts. He smiled a little sadly as he regarded her across the table.
"It seems to be our tradition, doesn't it?"
She glanced at him warily but there was no confrontation in his manner. He cocked his head in thought.
"We have a habit of bringing our heartache into direct competition. I guess it was just your turn to reap the benefit this time."
Rachel frowned at the inference, not overly keen to relive the memory of that particular night. The one and only time they had competed against each other, their last duel of hearts, before he left her behind for the glittering promise of a fourth consecutive national title. Yet there was no denying that his performance that night had been unparalleled, just like hers at Sectionals, and she supposed she could appreciate the twisted irony that all their pain somehow ended up spurring them on to new heights. Even if it was hardly the healthiest approach to achieving victory.
"Maybe we should be grateful for all the hurt then," she suggested sarcastically. "In a screwed up kind of way."
"Maybe so," he agreed, with a sincerity that made her look up in confusion. He gave a small shrug. "Whatever the feeling, good or bad, you should always use it to hone your talent. You have to let it in, however temporarily, even if it's just to wring every last drop of blood and passion from it. Don't ever feel guilty about that."
She must have looked dubious as he pressed the point, eyeing her knowingly. "You once accused us of performing with no soul, no feeling, only mechanical perfection. Did you still think that then?"
Rachel said nothing, turning her attention to her half empty coffee instead. She remembered well watching Vocal Adrenaline from the back of that theatre, unable to take her eyes off him, just like everyone else in the audience. Their moves had still been crazily impressive and as precise as clockwork, as expected from Shelby's minions, but his performance had been something else entirely. The power in his voice had sent chills up her spine; the expression on his face as he looked out into the darkness; the anger and pain he had driven through the heart of that song, stripping every note raw and making them his own – it had all haunted her for far longer than she could ever admit.
Jesse eyes darkened imperceptibly as he watched Rachel run her finger around the rim of her cup, absently gathering up the sweet foam before raising it to her lips. She was lost in her thoughts, and he took advantage of her distraction to memorize the deceptively innocent gesture in agonizing detail.
His voice had dropped an octave when he spoke again, responding to her unspoken answer.
"You did that to me."
She looked up at last, uncertainty and suspicion written in her features, as if trying to determine the hidden agenda in his words. He didn't flinch, meeting her gaze calmly and quietly until a tentative smile flickered to life on her lips.
"So... I can take credit for the showstopper that set the gold standard for show choirs everywhere?"
Jesse gave a chuckle, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "Hope it was worth it. People don't realise I lost ten pounds during that performance."
Rachel laughed and his smile widened at the gorgeous sound, even if it was at his expense. He was about to see if he could coax such sweet music from her again, when a sharp beep interrupted the moment. Jesse watched as she reached for her cell phone, her smile fading as she quickly read over the incoming message.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah," she mumbled, huffing out a sigh. "Kurt's just doing his daily affirmations that there's no way he's getting into NYADA and he should just start fitting himself for a jumpsuit for life at the auto shop."
Rachel rolled her eyes at her friend's woeful declarations, typing a quick reply promising to call him shortly and that she was sure he would make a very glamorous, sequinned grease-monkey. She got several rude and flamboyant emojis in reply, making her grin in triumph at breaking his bad mood.
"He hasn't heard back yet?"
She looked up to see Jesse regarding her thoughtfully. She shook her head, feeling the familiar concern starting to creep in again. She set her phone back down, tapping the dark screen anxiously as she worried her bottom lip. "Neither of us have," she admitted quietly.
Jesse considered her reply for a moment, watching the nervous doubt that drew the corner of her mouth and scrunched her brow. Her fearful confession from a night so many months ago echoed in his ears. He had tried to prepare her, forced her to face harsh realities for the sake of her own sanity, but the truth was that he had never lacked conviction that she would ultimately be accepted. They would be frankly braindead to overlook a talent like hers. Then again, he amended sourly, their judgment wasn't infallible.
"It's still early in the admission cycle," he assured, his tone almost dismissive. "It's likely the latest finalist letters won't get sent out for another few weeks."
She nodded distractedly but didn't look convinced. He could tell she was trying to hide her distress, to not reveal the full depth of her devastation at the prospect of rejection. He frowned in thought.
"Have you applied for other schools?"
"You think I won't get in," she accused immediately, her gaze sharp and defensive.
Jesse sighed, barely able to keep the frustration from his voice. "Seriously, Rach? Come on, you're smarter than that. It's basic common sense to have back up schools."
"That's just admitting defeat," she argued, stubborn as ever. "I don't want to plan for failure. What does that say about my faith in my talent? To dream big, you have to go big. You of all people should understand that!"
He almost wanted to laugh at her earnestness. In some ways, she was still as star-struck as she had been the first day he approached her, unable to see the larger game at play. She had never been willing to strategize like him, hadn't learnt how to protect herself by any means necessary; she had survived on dreams alone for too long. Rachel had always trusted too easily that what she wanted most would happen if she just worked hard enough, if she just wanted and willed it with all her might. Her inability to accept what she didn't want to see continued to be her biggest weakness.
He could only shake his head as he held her stare, hoping that she would take his words on board while there was still time.
"I still had a back up school. UCLA."
She opened her mouth like she wanted to speak, but soon closed it again as the implication of his statement slowly dawned on her. Jesse felt a bitter smile settle on his lips. She had believed he couldn't fail, but here he was. Living proof that sometimes life could royally and truly fuck you over.
"The future doesn't fight fair. Don't allow what you want most to be taken from you, because of one foolish oversight."
Rachel hesitated as she caught his eye, immediately wishing she hadn't. Averting her gaze, she hastily started gathering her things, slipping her phone into her pocket and reaching for her bag, feeling instinctively that she had lingered a little too long in this rendezvous.
"I have to go. I said I'd call Kurt back and then I'm meeting Finn to go over our Biology homework."
She threw his name out distractedly, an unconscious barrier of protection, a reminder and reassurance. Finn was actually out with Mr. Schue this afternoon and truthfully they had made no such plans, but she was sure he wouldn't object to the help if she were to drop round tonight.
Rachel paused briefly as she tugged on her jacket, fumbling for an appropriate goodbye, even as she avoided his face.
"See you around," she mumbled a little awkwardly, before turning and taking her leave without another look.
Jesse observed her exit in impassive silence, his mind still turning over the meaning of this somewhat unexpected olive branch. He honestly wasn't sure if she had just made things easier or even more impossible. With a sigh, he picked up his forgotten cup and downed the lukewarm espresso with a grimace.
It was only then that he realised she had left him with the check.
Whether by accident or design, he couldn't deny it was a fitting move on her part. Jesse looked back up at the door she had just departed through with an almost approving smile.
/o/
"No wonder none of my dreams ever work out. 'Cause I got loser DNA."
Rachel frowned at the glum expression on her boyfriend's face, laying her hand over his to give a comforting squeeze.
"Your dad wasn't a loser, Finn," she said quietly. "He was traumatised."
He shrugged off her words, unwilling to surrender his melancholia, and she bit her lip to stop herself from airing any more of her thoughts – ones that he clearly didn't want to hear right now.
Honestly, she was still somewhat recovering from his confession that he had planned to join the Army in the first place.
Oblivious to her stunned silence on the other end of the phone, Finn had carried on decrying the lies he had grown up with, his voice rising more with indignation and anger at every word. Rachel had managed some sympathetic sounds on her part, anxious to soothe his agitation, even as her mind had momentarily reeled at the implications.
Just what did he expect her to do with such a revelation? Had he planned on even discussing it with her? After all, it was a pretty big decision to make unilaterally when they were thinking of spending the rest of their lives together. How was she supposed to react to the news that his future plans had consisted of a life and career that were as far removed from hers as possible – both practically and spiritually? Was she meant to be happy at the prospect of him in danger and being kept apart for months at a time? Was that really what he had wanted? Rachel quickly pulled her thoughts back, dismissing the concerns as best she could, reminding herself that particular point at least was now moot. Thankfully.
"Well, if you're throwing a pity party, I want in." Kurt slumped over his plate with a dramatic sigh, demanding the attention of the table with all his usual delicacy. "I have as much chance of getting into NYADA as I do of playing Stanley in Streetcar."
"People online are already talking about receiving their finalist letters," she mumbled, feeling a fresh wave of worry sweep over her at the ever encroaching march of cold, hard reality.
"You didn't get one?"
She gave her boyfriend vaguely exasperated look. Did he really think she wouldn't have told him immediately if she had?
"Screw this, we're getting cheesecakes."
Rachel smiled gratefully at the unanimous decision. She had hoped an evening out would lift the spirits of her boys, but maybe sugary desserts would do it instead. However, she winced as she watched her best friend click his fingers at the nearest waiter.
"Kurt!" she whispered in furtive reprimand. "That's so rude! They're gonna spit on our cheesecakes!"
He cocked a salty eyebrow. "Well, thank you, Miss. Every-Day-People."
She rolled her eyes and sat back, an indulgent smile creeping across her lips despite herself. It was a shame Blaine hadn't come out tonight; they worked as a good tag-team at reigning in his boyfriend's bitchier asides, as entertaining as they were. But while Kurt had been coerced into keeping the peace in the Hudson-Hummel household, things were still a bit strained between the other boys, so she could understand Blaine's reluctance to socialise.
"I actually thought we were all gonna get out here," Finn muttered then without looking up, jabbing his fork at the remains of his meal dejectedly. "I mean, why did she have to tell me that? Why can't I have something in my life that's... that's special? That means something."
Kurt cast a hesitant glance in her direction at her boyfriend's words, his expression a mix of apprehension and apology. Rachel gave a small smile and shrug in return, letting him know it was okay. She was used to Finn's sometimes thoughtless turns of phrase, and she had learned not to take it to heart. He didn't mean it to sound as hurtful as it did. He was just despondent. She had to make allowances, it had been a crushing day for him after all.
The spectre of the future hung heavily over all the occupants of the booth that night, taunting them with uncertainty and shattered illusions. Suddenly the dream didn't seem quite enough any more, and the lack of concern from the wider world was more than a little frightening.
Rachel knew they were all feeling very sorry for themselves right now, but she was also confident that tomorrow they would pick themselves back up. Finn included. She would help him – to fulfil his ambition and his potential – and then they could build their future lives together. As equals.
Right?
Her gaze lowered almost guiltily in response, unable to silence the small voice of doubt that lurked just out of reach of her stubbornness. The unfaithful whisper that insisted his dreams were just so much... smaller than hers. Would their priorities and passions ever truly align? It had been hard enough for their love to bloom (let alone survive) in the hostile environment of McKinley, and it seemed life after high school was shaping up to be even more brutal. The fact was that she could will him to be a part of her world and ambitions as much as she wanted... but would he ultimately just end up resenting her for it?
Stop it.
Rachel shook her head firmly, familiar determination taking the wheel once more, steering her back onto the only road forward she could accept. She had planned for success her whole life, had always known what she wanted and gone out of her way to achieve it. This was no different. They would always find a way to be together, somehow. No matter what was to come, she would find a way to make her Broadway dreams come true, and she was sure Finn would find his own too.
She may be feeling low about the perilous state of her NYADA application, but this was all just a temporary set back.
Echoes of a recent conversation played through her mind then, pulled forth reluctantly from her memory by the direction of her thoughts. Rachel twirled her drink straw as she considered his words again, unable to refute the logic in the argument. Good advice from an unsavoury source, was still good advice after all. Maybe he was right. Her future was simply too important to gamble on a single throw of the dice. She sighed quietly in resignation. Looked like she was going to be very busy the next few nights.
"Well, it certainly seems like the only one with anything to celebrate this week will be Mr. Schue," Kurt said as he slouched back in the booth, pulling her out of her reverie. "If he ever gets around to deciding how to pop the question that is. Speaking of which," he straightened up again with a hint of interest. "How did you girls get on with your choice? What did you end up going with?"
"First Time Ever I Saw Your Face," she replied, a little absently. "It was Santana's suggestion."
Truthfully, Rachel had been more than a little surprised when the Troubletones had approached her and Tina in the hallway the other day and suggested a collaboration. Apparently Mr. Schue had been eager to share his news with all members of his adopted family, even the estranged ones, and Rachel had to admit it was touching that the other girls wanted to be a part of it. Of course, they could have just been in good spirits and feeling generous after their own recent Sectionals win.
However the performance itself hadn't been... quite what she'd expected.
It had seemed a safe enough bet as far as romantic ballads went, and everyone had sung their parts beautifully, drawing on deep emotion as the lyrics inevitably summoned their own memories of love at first sight. Rachel herself had smiled and closed her eyes as she uttered the fateful words, waiting for his familiar face and letterman jacket to fill her mind. Yet she'd caught only a glimpse of a beckoning piano, an arrogant smile and tousled curls, before she'd wrenched her eyes open again and hastened to cover the hitch in her voice.
When Mercedes had cried in the bathroom afterwards about Sam and Shane, Rachel hadn't been able to summon a single word of comfort.
Snapping back to her surroundings she quickly repressed the disconcerting memory, only to notice Kurt was rattling off his list of far superior song suggestions while glancing about impatiently over his shoulder, scouting for his elusive cheesecake.
"How did it go?"
When Finn spoke up next to her, she quickly turned to him with an affectionate smile. Grasping his hand, she pushed down the sudden lump in her throat and met his eyes earnestly.
"It went great."
/o/
"Hey, you, wait up –"
Jesse turned as he felt a hand grab at the cuff of his jacket, somewhat surprised to see the Milli Vanilli of the Troubletones panting like she had just run a marathon to catch him instead of the length of a school corridor. Before he could demand an explanation for his rude accosting, she let go and composed herself enough to deliver her message.
"Miss. Corcoran wants to see you."
Jesse stared at the girl in front of him, wanting nothing more than to tell her that Shelby could fuck right off with her calls for an audience, but knowing it would only be a waste of breath and energy in fighting the inevitable. She seemed to take his silence as acquiescence at any rate.
"S-She's in the music room," she advised, a little flustered at whatever she saw in his expression, before quickly ducking back into the amorphous student body that filled the hallways and making her escape.
Jesse cursed under his breath as he forced his way back through the home-time crush, despising every step he took, too preoccupied to even notice the way students practically crashed into each other in their haste to get out of his way.
He knew better than to try and second guess her motives, but he could feel the tension flooding his body regardless, setting his already formidable defences to high alert. They had managed to avoid each other's direct presence for months, by a mutual agreement that she had now seen fit to break. He understood the way Shelby worked too well to suspect there was anything good to come from this.
/o/
"You wanted to see me?"
She certainly didn't miss the mockery that coated his words, but he knew she wouldn't react to it. Jesse felt himself bristle as she kept her back to him, calmly taking her time to gather up the music sheets and workbooks that lay on top of the piano, offering no word of acknowledgement. Not yet.
He dropped his satchel heavily onto the nearest chair and crossed his arms, instantly berating himself for giving her the petulant reaction she was looking for. He couldn't help it. Jesse hated being summoned, but he hated himself even more for still feeling compelled to come. The ever obedient apprentice forever drawn back at his master's whim.
"Yes I did," she said at last, an almost indulgent lilt to her voice that set his teeth on edge. She finally turned around, one hand trailing delicately along the sleek black surface of the instrument, the other arm holding the stack of folders to her breast. Jesse stiffened as her gaze finally fell on him, glinting with an unspoken influence that couldn't be broken.
"I realised I never congratulated you on your Sectionals victory."
He raised an eyebrow, very much doubting the sincerity of such a sentiment, but willing to play along for now.
"Nor I on yours," he said carefully.
She inclined her head in gracious acceptance, not that either of them had ever truly contemplated defeat as an option. It was that same uncompromising confidence that had made them such an effective team in the heyday of Vocal Adrenaline.
"I've also realised that I never gave Quinn an answer on her request to join the Troubletones," she carried on somewhat cryptically. Lowering her lashes in thought, she drew an idle finger across the top of the file pressed against her chest. Jesse kept his eyes fixed on her face, feeling his impatience rising at whatever this game was. He quickly closed his expression and said nothing.
Shelby gave a regretful sigh. "Sadly, I just don't think it's an option any more. It seems she's not ready for the responsibility or the commitment required. I hoped we could maybe work something out, but unfortunately she's continued to prove she just doesn't have the judgment and maturity to take on such an important role."
Jesse frowned as she spoke, sensing the direction this was going and determinedly ignoring the uneasiness that settled on his skin like gossamer spiderwebs.
"Why are you telling me this?"
She met his gaze with those too-familiar dark eyes, expertly disarming his guard in a way only she could. A hint of a guileful smile curved the corner of her mouth.
"Well, I thought it might be better for her to hear such news from... a friend."
He didn't respond right away, knowing a careless comment now would only be playing into her hands. He stared back stonily, watched as she took a moment to make sure the full meaning of her words had sunk in. He worked hard to unclench his jaw. As if there was any room for misinterpretation. She was letting him know that she knew – and that she disapproved. It was a warning to toe the line. Resentment cracked through his muscles like a barbed whip, but he didn't flinch or give an inch in the stand-off. She had trained him too well.
"So much for making things right," he said at last, a thin smirk chilling his lips.
Shelby eyed him closely. "Indeed."
She walked towards him then, heading for the door, her movements ever graceful and controlled. She paused when they were almost shoulder to shoulder, close enough to allow the rich scent of her perfume to snake inside his lungs, constricting his chest. Shelby cast a last glance over his face which he refused to meet, her voice deceptively soft.
"Be careful, Jesse."
~o~
AN I decided to split this chapter as it was too long. Reviews keep my muse in employment.
