Getting It Right

by BruisedSmile

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

13. The Bitch of Loving

Getting It Right - The Bitch of Loving

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Opening night had arrived at last, bringing with it that strange mixture of relief and panic as months of hard work, heartache and drama converged into one glorious burst of vibrant energy.

Pep talks had been given, checks carried out, hugs exchanged and good luck whispers passed between anxious friends.

This was it.

The dark auditorium was packed with expectant patrons, and the thrill of a live audience was something nothing else could truly compare to. It was the same heady rush she felt at every competition performance, and yet tonight felt different from when she had last stood on this stage for Sectionals. This time the anticipation felt heightened by a new and nervous excitement. Wowing people with her voice was something Rachel was supremely confident in, something she could pull off blindfolded. But this was the first time she was taking on such an iconic character role. The first time she had to enchant people with a story that wasn't her own. It was an unfamiliar and slightly overwhelming sense of responsibility.

However when the curtain had finally risen over the cast to a rousing swell of applause, every aching muscle, every shed tear and personal stress that had built up over the weeks, abruptly disappeared. McKinley's budding young ingénue had felt suddenly calm with resolve. Musical theatre was where she belonged after all, the world she was meant for, with all its highs and lows and consuming demands. This was everything her future held and she was determined to start out as she meant to go on – with a defining and polished performance, rave reviews (even if it was only in the school paper for now) and multiple standing ovations.

The beat of the music had pulsed down to the soles of her feet, the bright lights surrounding her like a loving embrace, her heart singing as much as her voice as she moved from scene to scene on a thermal of exhilaration. It was all even better than she had dared to hope.

But now…

Rachel drew in a measured breath as she heard the crowd beyond taking their seats again as the interval drew to a close. The second act beckoned, the clock steadily ticking down to perhaps her most challenging scene.

Her chest tightened with the memory, her mind fogging with lingering sensations; everything she had gotten skilled at suppressing over the last week suddenly threatening to overrule her professional composure. It had been easier in rehearsals for some reason. Tonight every emotion was running that much higher and closer to the surface. Great for enhancing her characterisation. Terrible for her peace of mind.

The stage was empty and waiting, the audience beyond humming softly in anticipation. She knew that Finn was out there somewhere, watching and supporting her dreams in his own quiet way. The single rose and good luck note he had left on her locker were safely tucked away in her bag along with the rest of her school clothes, but she was still hurt he hadn't come to see her before the show. He really was determined to take this distance thing quite literally.

Shaking her head in an attempt to clear it of everything that detracted from her focus, Rachel barely even registered the movement behind her. Not until she felt the warning tingle on her neck, breaking her concentration and alerting her to his presence, did she realise it was too late to do anything except freeze in place.

He stood in her shadow, close but not touching, seemingly at ease with the tension that sat so heavily between them. Rachel stared straight ahead, every muscle on edge in reaction to his proximity, but otherwise ignoring the warmth at her back. If he was trying to unnerve her, his efforts would prove futile.

He sensed her struggling to resist twisting her hands together as she tried to steady her breathing, clearly suffering from a bout of nerves, but still ever radiant with that same fierce passion to succeed. The blackness of the wings enveloped them both like a thief's cloak, concealing more than either would admit, as he lowered his lips to her ear.

"Remember, it's your stage. Own it."

Rachel refused to acknowledge the small, involuntary smile his words invoked. Or the urge to glance over her shoulder in return as she felt him move away again.

She didn't need the encouragement, especially from him, and she needed the shiver his breath left upon her skin even less. Yet when she stepped out on her cue a few minutes later, preparing to lead in to the now infamous post-Rumble scene with Blaine, she couldn't deny her confidence and composure felt much more balanced than in prior attempts. Maybe it was an odd case of 'hair of the dog that bit you'. Either way, she leant into it, eager to give the very best performance she could.

She had almost relaxed by the time 'I Have A Love' came around.

Having gotten through the previous scene and experienced surprising little residual trauma, Rachel felt her assurance soaring and threw herself into the following song with an almost reckless commitment. She hung on each note, let herself delve deep into every emotion that coursed through the lyrics, and the sense of liberation was intoxicating. For one fearless moment, it felt like she had truly become Maria… and it caused her to let down her guard.

I love him, I'm his
And everything he is
… I am, too

She didn't mean to glance towards the wings.

She didn't mean to catch the sharp, silent sapphires that waited there.

She didn't want to feel the echo of his voice in her ear, the ghost of his kiss on her lips.

She certainly didn't intend to hold his gaze long enough for her to almost falter the next verse.

Quickly snapping her attention back to the unseen audience, Rachel stared hard into the blinding lights and let them burn the betrayal out of her eyes.

/o/

The corridors were thinning out finally, the post performance fervour settling down. Most of the audience had already made their way out of the school for the night, leaving only the most dedicated friends and family still milling about, waiting to extol praise and offer rides home.

Jesse had opted to slip out as inconspicuously as possible, for once more than ready to escape and embrace the peace and quiet of his Spartan apartment. Normally the buzz of a triumphant show would have kept him wired all night, but the impact was somewhat lessened when he was denied a starring role in proceedings. Thus the overriding feeling he was left with was one of exhaustion and a simmering dissatisfaction.

Shouldering past some chatting students, Jesse scrubbed a hand over his face and battled to keep the resentment under control. It had been far, far too long since he had felt the pure high of performance. He felt like a junkie going through withdrawal, itching and aching for a fix that was always just out of reach. And the effort it took in forgoing that compulsion was slowly but surely eating him alive.

It was nothing he couldn't ultimately handle, temporary as it was, but it still pestered and stung like a malicious hornet in the last days of summer.

"Well, if it isn't the renowned Jesse St. James. We meet at last."

Finding his path now blocked and thoughts interrupted, he bit back a quick sigh of irritation. Being cornered by adoring fans was one thing. This was something else.

"And you are?"

The other boy just smirked, correctly assuming that he already knew. It would be hard not to recognise that oily smile and coiffed hair, even if he hadn't been wearing the same Dalton Academy uniform of his teammates.

"My, my, this is quite the privilege," he mulled, the mocking drawl to his voice undermining any sincerity his words might have held. "You VA guys are downright legendary on the circuit. Talk about hardcore. I heard you once endured a seventy-two hour rehearsal on nothing but competitive stamina and illegal amounts of caffeine."

Jesse almost smiled at that. It had been more like forty hours, but he wasn't about to debunk the myths of his own reputation.

"So, tell me, is it true? Did you really give it all up for the Berry girl?"

He gave a stone cold look and didn't answer.

Sebastian let out a low whistle and rocked back on his heels. "Man, and then she just hooks up again with her ex. Ouch. That's gotta hurt."

"You're not exactly endearing yourself with this introduction."

The less-than-friendly warning went unheeded however; waved aside with the same kind of callow arrogance that Jesse was all too skilled at dismantling.

"Still, nice set up you got going here – screwing the spunky blonde on the side while you bide your time to make your move." His eyes glinted, that ingratiating smirk still wet on his lips. "Got to admire that sort of ingenuity."

This kid was dangerously close to treading on his last nerve.

"Does this conversation have a point?"

"Why, yes actually." Sebastian paused for dramatic effect, looking almost coquettish in his cunning. "It seems we share a common goal. To break up two hopelessly mismatched couples." He smiled and dipped his head ever so slightly in deference. "Game recognises game after all. And sabotage is always more effective from behind enemy lines, as I'm sure you of all people can appreciate. Maybe we could help each other out in that regard."

Jesse couldn't quite decide if he was fucking with him or not. Raising a cynical eyebrow, he made no effort to conceal the disdain in his voice.

"What do you possibly think you could offer to interest me in such an arrangement?"

Sebastian smirked again, which seemed to be his answer for everything.

"Just something to think about, Romeo."

With that, Dalton's own discount Disney villain strode away back towards the auditorium, no doubt planning to grab a few minutes alone with his quarry when the leading man himself finally emerged from the elated haze of backstage.

Jesse frowned. To be honest, he was having a hard time seeing the guy's angle. Kurt was Rachel's best friend. Helping to break up his relationship with Blaine was never going to do him any favours in her eyes. He might as well shoot himself in the foot right now.

The whole thing felt more like off-the-cuff opportunism, as poorly conceived as it was executed and without any hint of long-term strategy. Hardly impressive. The Warbler might well think he saw a kindred spirit in VA's former star, but Jesse always picked his alliances carefully. Even if he had felt so inclined as to play puppeteer in such a quid pro quo scheme – it would have to be one that actually benefited him. And certainly not one that relied on such an untrustworthy partner.

Show choir competition was a very small world after all, and reputations spread quickly. Sebastian Smythe may be relatively new to the scene, but already his lack of subtlety and integrity were well known. His designs on Blaine were all but common knowledge, and rumour had it he was even pushing to captain the Warblers in his first year. Jesse could respect ambition, but not unprofessionalism. Blatant grabs for power would get you nowhere, as others had learnt to their cost. This kid would have fitted right in with the backbiting upstarts that filled out the lower ranks of Vocal Adrenaline back in his day; flashy but no real idea of how to play the game. It almost made him feel nostalgic.

It was clear the Dalton student had nothing of substance in his machinations beyond shallow infatuation. This was a passing fancy for him, one that would likely be usurped soon enough by the next shiny thing that crossed his path. Stepping out of the school at last, Jesse drank in the calming darkness and let his thoughts focus, reflecting again on the odd encounter. Something about it still bothered him.

Sebastian may be an amateur player and out of his league... but that didn't mean he couldn't still do some damage.

/o/

The show had been a spectacular success.

'Without doubt, the best musical McKinley has ever done', Will had proudly declared to a cheering round of applause and a deeply blushing Emma. She rushed up to embrace him as he jumped down from the piano stool (or maybe to steady him, as Jesse suspected there was more than just sparkling apple juice in his paper cup), and Beiste slapped him on the back with enough force to almost knock him to his knees in his delicate state.

Not long after that toast, and with the Sunday night wrap party well under way, the faculty members made a discreet exit. Perhaps in search of some strong coffee to bolster their authority before they made any attempt to break up the rowdy celebration in a timely manner, mindful that there was still school in the morning.

Music blared from a portable speaker and judging from the increasingly flushed faces and glassy eyes he encountered, Puck's own surreptitious supply of booze was doing the rounds quite nicely. Jesse himself had indulged in two or three shots of the mystery amber liquid, before deciding to call it quits while he still had enough foresight to do so.

Others hadn't been quite so restrained.

Artie had already crashed into the drum kit attempting to execute a one-wheel spin on a dare from Sam, Rory's accent was getting more incomprehensible by the minute, and in the corner Brittany and Santana were making out with such enthusiasm that more than one person had already loudly suggested they get a room. The crowded space was hot and loud with energy, every member of the cast committed in their determination to blow off steam and revel in the glory of their achievement. It had been a hell of a production. They had earned a night of excess.

Out the corner of his eye, Jesse noticed Blaine slip out of his boyfriend's embrace with an appeasing smile and parting peck, before quickly leaving the room. Kurt pouted in objection but was soon distracted as Tina immediately took the opportunity to pull him over to dance with her and Mike.

After a minute of consideration, he downed the last of his drink and followed.

The metal lockers that lined the hallways outside offered a refreshing change to the stuffy heat of the party, and Jesse leant against them gratefully as he waited opposite the classroom door. The burn of alcohol still coursed through his system, keeping him warm despite the metallic chill that seeped through his shirt, and he was well aware that he probably wouldn't even be doing this if not for its uninhibiting effects.

"Hey!"

The friendly exclamation seemed to echo disproportionately along the corridor, cutting through the noisy frivolity that spilled out of the choir room. Blaine veered over on his way back from the bathrooms, his wide smile and springy step all the more prominent after several cups of spiked apple cider. A few rebellious tufts of hair had managed to break free from their gel cladding at some point, and now stuck out at jaunty angles. He reached Jesse and briefly grasped his shoulder, though whether that was in greeting or for his own balance, was up for debate.

"Aw man, not bailing on us already are you?" he teased, speaking a little louder than normal as he nodded towards the car keys in his hand.

"That's the plan." Jesse smiled. "Schuester can have the pleasure of trying to get you lot home in one piece."

Blaine tipped back his head with a laugh. "Ah, I getcha. Probably a good idea. Pretty sure Kurt's gonna be crashing at my place at this rate. Still, it's been a good night, even if a little bittersweet to know that it's all finally over. I mean, the show and everything went so well..."

He trailed off and glanced towards the classroom opposite them, seemingly lost in thought for a moment.

"Seriously though, I know everyone goes out of their way not to acknowledge it – but you really did a great job. The vocal work was exceptional, you made us sound damn near professional, it made such a difference. I guess I'm just… saying thanks. Because someone should. It's appreciated."

Jesse was rather surprised but didn't let it show as he took the proffered hand and shook it, only a slight smile betraying his gratitude at the unexpected gesture. While illicit liquor may be greasing the wheels of congeniality tonight, it was also true that Blaine remained one of the more gracious members of New Directions. If anyone was going to be generous with good feeling, even towards the necessary evil that was the VA traitor, it was him. Of course, the fact that he hadn't been around at the time of Jesse's dramatic double-cross, no doubt helped.

"Since we're giving credit where it's due," he returned with a knowing smirk, "you pulled off a pretty decent performance yourself."

Blaine chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck a little bashfully. "Yeah, so I've been told. Think Kurt would pen a ballad in my honour if he could. Honestly though, Rachel was better."

Well, of course she was.

Normally, any such display of faux modesty would make him sneer, but in Blaine's case it almost seemed genuine. A subtle defence mechanism, like a child feeling uncomfortable at being singled out.

Perhaps it was the blush of alcohol on his face, or the slightly awkward energy in his manners, but Jesse suddenly saw just how young the former Warbler was. It was easy to forget sometimes, thanks to his relative maturity (and tendency to dress like an eccentric, colour-blind senior citizen), that he was actually a full year younger than Kurt and Rachel. Still a relatively sheltered kid really. Still eager to please, still adjusting to his skin, still willing to see the good in people.

And that was the problem.

"Speaking of admirers, I ran into another one of yours the other night."

He got a blank look in response, that pleasant and inoffensive smile dipping only slightly in mild bemusement.

"It seems you've made quite the impression on that new Warbler."

"Oh. Yeah." Blaine winced a little in belated comprehension. He gave an embarrassed shrug, sounding more sheepish than anything else. "Don't take anything Sebastian says too seriously. That's just what he's like. Guy's a chronic flirt and enjoys winding Kurt up way too much, but that's all it is."

Jesse appeared thoughtful at his words. Blaine was about to speak again when he was cut off by an abrupt sigh and a strange look.

"Possible. But if you feel like taking some unsolicited advice… just watch your back there. This may be a game to him but he still wants to win, and that makes him an unpredictable opponent. That kind of selfish desire can cause pain in more ways than you'd ever think."

"I really can't see Sebastian taking things that far –"

"Look," Jesse interrupted, a little sharper than intended thanks to his own slight inebriation, "I know this kind of guy, alright? I used to be him. And I can tell you right now, it doesn't end well for anyone involved. Just be careful – don't take a good thing for granted. It only takes one mistake to lose it all."

Blaine blinked, a little taken aback, even as the other boy quickly clammed up and looked away, instant chagrin falling over his expression like an iron portcullis. He hesitated in his response, positive that their coach wouldn't thank him for drawing attention to his crack in composure. Even so, it was an intriguing glimpse into a private turmoil that he was sure would have never surfaced under the guard of full sobriety. A chink of vulnerability that was too dangerous to be left exposed to the daylight. Blaine could already see the surge of emotion retreating back beyond those dark sea walls, pulling out like the tide that left only a smooth canvas of sand behind.

"Well I appreciate the cautionary comparison," he ventured almost light-heartedly, "but I reckon you're doing yourself a disservice. I don't think you're anywhere near as careless as Sebastian. I think you do know what really matters. And... you're trying to make amends."

He saw Jesse stiffen, the line of his mouth thinning as he kept his gaze stoically averted. This was clearly not a topic open for discussion, and he was probably pushing his luck, but Blaine was sure he hadn't misread the regret and frustration in his demeanour just now. Even before that 'scandalous' stage kiss, it had been hard not to feel the tension or notice the stolen looks. He'd just never seen the evidence of it this close up before.

'Do you ever find yourself thinking about… someone else?'

Blaine frowned as he recalled the reluctant whisper she had let slip so many months ago. He should have asked at the time. They should have realised sooner. He could remember only too well the fraught conflict of her tears the other day; the confusion in her eyes as she strove to make sense of an onslaught of feelings.

Kurt might be inclined to side with Rachel in the conviction that Jesse was only interested in sowing trouble, but Blaine had his doubts.

"I should probably..." He jerked his head in the direction of the ongoing party, a little apologetically. Jesse acknowledged his departure with a nod but said nothing.

He wasn't sure what made him pause and turn back when he was halfway across the corridor, only that it felt important that he did. The silent boy raised an eyebrow while Blaine weighed his words as carefully as his compromised judgement would allow.

"I – I get that things are kinda complicated, and I don't pretend to understand it all, but I certainly wouldn't write off your chances entirely."

Jesse didn't know quite what to make of the surprising sincerity of his tone, so he didn't respond at all. Blaine quickly ducked back into the choir room, only to be received by a thunderous roar like a triumphant gladiator returning to the arena. God, how he missed that.

He barely had a moment to unravel the implications of such a parting statement, before another figure pushed her way out of the ruckus and lurched a little tipsily over to him.

"Gonna sneak off without saying goodbye, were you?"

He smiled at the disapproving pout of her lips.

"Have to keep up my dark and mysterious allure, you know."

"Like Batman."

He laughed at that and Quinn soon joined in, giggling hard enough that she temporarily lost her balance. Utilising those enviable reflexes once more, Jesse swiftly stepped forward and caught her waist, only just managing to stop her tripping over her own feet as they spun around.

"Woah, easy," he murmured as he righted them again with some effort, casting a shrewd glance over the loose-limbed girl in his arms. "It might be time for you to consider switching to the virgin stuff."

Quinn scoffed. "Little late for that."

He arched a brow in wry amusement, his gaze soft with something almost like affection. Or maybe that was just the alcohol. She felt him shift against her but before he could set about disentangling them, she tipped her face up and attempted to compose a sober expression.

"Well, since you're determined to be a bore and ditch your own wrap party, I guess I should take the opportunity to say: congratulations." She poked a finger in his chest, a grin breaking across her lips. "Quite the impressive premier, Mister Producer."

"High praise indeed from you."

"Don't go getting used to it."

He shook his head with a chuckle. Quinn smiled and was about to release her hold, when she was distracted by movement at the edge of the choir room behind him.

Their own Maria stood hovering just inside the open door, paper cup clasped within her hands and face angled away, busy forcing a laugh at something across the room as she tried to pretend she hadn't been watching them.

The former Cheerio nearly rolled her eyes.

Rachel had felt like a disgruntled stalker lately, tracking her every move with suspicion and resentment, in thrall to a grudge she couldn't bring herself to bury. She wondered if the girl was even fully aware of her behaviour. Self awareness wasn't exactly one of Rachel's more prominent character traits, and defensive denial could be a hard hole to climb out of. Maybe it was simply easier for New Directions' prima donna to ignore the giant elephant in the room – even as it threatened to trample the rest of them under foot.

Surprisingly, even the rumoured Finchel 'break' hadn't compelled any kind of progress. No, instead she seemed content to just sit and wait for the whole tedious cycle to restart anew, repeating over and over ad nauseam.

Quinn pursed her lips in thought. While she was enjoying being a splinter under Rachel's skin, this repressed stalemate was getting ridiculous. She wasn't sure exactly why Jesse was being evasive (he must have heard the same gossip she had) but Quinn had had enough of his ex girlfriend being her second shadow. It was time to force the issue. And if Jesse had lost his appetite for public acts of incitement, well, she would have to take the initiative herself. Perhaps Rachel just needed another little push. And unlike her associate, Quinn couldn't care less how much she hated her for it.

Laying a hand against his chest, she brought her gaze back to his face and flashed him a meaningful look. Her fingers lightly gripped the buttons of his shirt, preventing him from pulling away from her lips that reached up and brushed against his ear with a seductive whisper.

"Just trust me, okay?"

She chanced a glance at his expression when she pulled back. There was a hint of wary curiosity there but the slight tug of his lips was all the permission she needed as she proceeded to press her mouth to his in an enjoyably familiar dance.

The kiss was softer than anything they had indulged in so far, and that was quite deliberate. Quinn let her eyes close and draped an arm around his neck in demonstrative pleasure. She felt him read the implicit direction in her body and tighten his hold on her waist, effortlessly following her lead with all the intuitiveness of a natural performer.

Lingering just long enough that he could feel the smirk on her lips, she slowly broke away, making sure to hold his gaze for added effect.

"I assume that wasn't just for my benefit."

He was smiling but a faint shadow edged his eyes; the prickling of a freshly stung conscience.

She only grinned, glancing over his shoulder again for confirmation that their little display hadn't gone unnoticed.

"You can thank me later."

/o/

Rachel Berry was in a foul temper.

Feeling more than a little sleep deprived and nursing a mild hangover, she had trudged through Monday's classes on autopilot, making no effort to engage in any attempt at learning or socialising. She'd noticed a few of her fellow cast mates had ended up pulling a sickie, and frankly she had nearly considered doing so herself. But while the idea of staying in bed and screaming into her pillows might be tempting, she knew that the effects of underage drinking and teenage sulking were not on the 'valid excuses to ditch school' list for her dads, and so she hadn't even tried.

Rachel felt like her head was about to burst, and she couldn't even kid herself that it was purely the booze at fault. This was not just a hungover headache. This was a him and her headache.

The memory still left a sour taste in her mouth, clogging up her throat with unwanted emotions. It was like witnessing a car crash – unable to look away as it happens and unable to stop replaying it in your mind afterwards. All the rumours and second hand details felt like nothing more than pinpricks compared to the gut punch that was seeing it for herself. When Quinn had caught her eye for that split second after, smug and challenging, Rachel had only just stopped herself from storming into the hallway and wrenching her from his arms as hard as she could. In that moment, she had wanted nothing more than to force herself between them like a human barricade and explode in the blonde's face with the same incoherent rage and pain that had all but paralysed her where she stood.

It was just so… wrong.

Everything felt upside down.

This was meant to be her year, dammit. Her hard earned victory lap as she got to experience finally being settled and happy with Finn, enjoying her breakout role in the musical, preparing for NYADA and leading her team to a Nationals win. That had been the plan, the agreed upon plot line – until he had stepped into the mix again. Until, for once, he hadn't done what was expected of him.

It was a change of tactics that she struggled to get her head around.

After all, he couldn't ditch her fast enough last time, ever eager as he was to sign off a performance with his own brutal flair. He'd chosen victory, old loyalties and the status quo. Not them, not her. He'd clicked his Bruno Maglis together, snapped those impeccable suspenders and turned for the horizon, leaving no doubt behind as to his true priorities. That was the real Jesse St. James: the ruthless leader of Vocal Adrenaline and Shelby's stooge; the Janus-faced trickster of her heart. That was the boy under the mask that he had so mercilessly acquainted her with.

It seemed she had never really known him.

She certainly didn't understand him. Not then and not now.

His sudden return to her life last year had been more than a little disconcerting, and she had quite rightly treated such a turnabout with the quiet suspicion it deserved. While it was true that her perceptions had been reluctantly challenged, her heartstrings teased and plucked, she had also known better than to trust such gilded words any more. After the debacle in New York happened, she had assumed his behaviour would just revert to the norm. Unceremonious departures were what he did best after all. She had been braced for it, almost anxious for it.

But no. Now he decided to stick around. Now he decided to start up a whole new game. Now she was forced to contend with his constant presence, his endless comments, all his provocations and complications.

And them.

The Cheerleader and the Charlatan. (Honestly, it was like a bad reality show pitch.)

Such a pairing was utterly absurd. Petty and superficial. Unforgivable. Yet it still bothered her so much more than it had any right to.

The truth was that despite all the self-lectures, all the tortured logic and stubborn determination she had rallied recently, there was really only so much crap she was prepared to take from him. As if it wasn't bad enough he'd spiked her relationship with Finn by pulling that little stunt in rehearsal, she would be dammed if she had to suffer the spectacle of his make out sessions on top of everything else. Was he trying to rub salt in the wound? To ruin what little happiness she had left?

For there was no denying that particular encounter had soured the entire night for her.

And she was still fuming about it.

When she should have been revelling in the admiration and accolades earned by her outstanding theatrical debut, instead she had been sullen and restless. When today she should still be incandescent with brilliance, instead she was scowling and stomping through the corridors of McKinley, overshadowed by her own ominous thundercloud.

And it was all his fault.

When the last bell of the day finally rang, signalling the end of classes and confinement, Rachel made a conscious effort to turn her feet in the direction of the library. Although she longed to go home and crawl back into bed, she also knew that she was long overdue to put in some time for her scholastic studies, ones that had been sorely neglected in the spate of extra curricular activity lately.

Mr. Schue had informed her that morning there was no Glee club tonight. Ostensibly to allow them all time to recover from the exertions of the musical run, but in reality she suspected her cast mates weren't the only ones feeling a little worse for wear today. She'd made token protests of course, but privately she was grateful for the reprieve. Especially if it meant she could avoid them both for a bit longer. If it meant she didn't have to worry about putting on that same old cracked mask that had become so heavy of late.

For once in her life, Rachel craved solitude.

/o/

Ninety minutes later, after attempting to steer her sluggish brain through the wonders of mitosis and trigonometry, she eventually conceded defeat. She'd made a heroic start, Rachel reasoned as she packed away her books, and now all she wanted was dinner and her duvet.

The school was quiet as she left the library, though she could hear the janitor polishing the floors somewhere in the building and the occasional muffled shouts that sounded from the direction of the sports fields outside as practice overran as usual. Evening arrived fast at this time of year and she wondered if she should call Kurt and wheedle for a ride, knowing that her dads weren't keen on her walking home in the dark. Suppressing a yawn, Rachel rubbed her eyes as they adjusted from the bright library lamps to the comparatively dim hallways.

However all vestiges of fatigue instantly vanished as she turned the next corner.

She stopped in place and blinked twice, unsure if that was the boy in question that she had just glimpsed disappearing into the choir room up ahead.

Really, it could have been anyone.

And it didn't matter anyway as whoever it was, they hadn't seen her. She only had to walk past the ajar door without a single glance. She didn't need to know, she didn't need to spare it another thought –

long, teasing fingers winding around golden locks...

sculpted nails raking against bare skin...

nettle green eyes that stung and gloated...

Rachel felt her hands clench at the fresh assault of pain that raged against her rationale, her breath accelerating dangerously fast through her chest. This was bad. She needed to leave, to run, to put as much space between them as she could until this fever passed.

They needed to get the hell out of her head!

She hadn't expected him to come to school today. There was no Glee, no musical, he had no official excuse for invading her territory for once. Was it too much to hope she'd get one measly day of peace to sort her head out? It wasn't fair. She'd done the right thing, she'd put the show and the team first, and it had taken every reserve of restraint she had.

Well, enough was enough. She had no more forbearance to summon. This game of his had gone too far, caused too much damage.

This time he was going to face the consequences of his idle cruelty.

/o/

Shoving the door aside with such vehemence that it slammed off the wall and swung back into place behind her, Rachel blew into the classroom like a vengeful Alecto ascended to Earth, her school bag almost bursting apart at the seams as it was discarded to the floor.

"Just what exactly do you think you're playing at?!"

She saw him glance up in scant acknowledgement of her dramatic entrance, his expression guarded and unreadable. It really was impressive how seamlessly he could slip behind a show face on command. Infuriating, but impressive. And it made it nigh on impossible to catch him on the back foot, despite the element of surprise.

Undaunted, Rachel continued to burn a warpath of wrath across the room, long hair swishing against her back with the force of her stride. Her eyes drilled into his averted face, fixed and unrelenting, a missile locked on a target. A promise of mutual destruction that neither could, or would, prevent.

"I thought I was collecting my jacket. Sorry if that offends you."

She stopped short at the same time that he emerged from the scatter of chairs, forcing him to stand and face her or physically step around her to escape. She planted her feet and crossed her arms, fighting the urge to gnash her teeth together at his dismissive tone.

"Not surprised you forgot about it. You were rather distracted last night after all."

Jesse sighed as he shrugged on the faded garment, the action managing to send a waft of familiar fragrance washing over her in their close proximity. Rachel remembered that same jacket draping over her shoulders on many a late night, the subtle musk of leather and sandalwood warming her with comfort. She quickly batted the unhelpful memories away.

"If you have something to say to me, Rachel, do us both a favour and just say it."

He sounded almost tired, like she was putting him out. Like she was a blight on his life. She puffed out her chest with indignation, feeling the long repressed rage bubble through her veins, hot and acidic and unleashed at last.

"You've got some nerve having an attitude after that shit you pulled last week! That little performance was way below the belt, even by your standards. You think I don't know what that was all about? Why you insisted on forcing that kiss on me under false pretences?"

"Hey, I didn't make you do anything if you cared to recall correctly." Jesse narrowed his eyes in pointed reproach, refusing to let her off the hook that easily. Rachel was a lot of things, but unwilling sacrificial lamb was certainly not part of her repertoire. "I'm not the only one who needs to learn to own up to their actions."

"It was an abuse of authority and professional discretion!"

"Well you certainly took your sweet time in lodging a complaint then," he bit back sarcastically. "Moral outrage only when it's convenient, huh?"

She nearly spluttered at his sheer audacity.

"Don't you dare try to claim the high ground, Jesse! Everything you do has a twisted motive, designed to gain the advantage and exploit others. You knew damn well how Finn would react!"

"I suppose it's also my fault that your boyfriend has a woefully delicate ego that demands full time nursing?" Contempt seared his words, crooking his lips mockingly. "Nevermind though, eh? I'm sure you rushed to fall over yourself to reassure him of your blind devotion. He blusters and whines and you bend over backwards to appease his insecurity and selfishness. And you call me the manipulative one. He plays you better than I ever could, Rachel."

"He broke up with me!"

Jesse didn't react to her emotional outburst, always mindful to play his cards close to his chest. She, however, was beyond caring about who had the upper hand. This wasn't a game to her, this was her life. He must have known. Everyone seemed to.

"Which is what you wanted all along, wasn't it? To drive us apart, to win your pathetic rivalry at all costs! To see to it that I was alone and miserable just like always!"

A pained look crossed his face.

"I don't – I could never want that."

"Stop lying, just for once, would you?" Rachel forced back the furious tears that threatened to erode her voice. "That's what this has all been about! Deliberately messing things up with Finn with that stupid kiss, flaunting this ridiculous affair with Quinn in my face, doing everything you can to undermine my relationship and happiness! You never do anything except hurt me!"

"Ditto."

The word was soft but deadly, a blade of ice slipped beneath the heart, though it was unclear whose. She hesitated, momentarily thrown, and the corner of his mouth lifted ruefully.

"You burnt me first, remember?"

"Ugh," Rachel threw up her hands in disgust, turning on her heel to pace across the floor, too agitated to stand still any longer. "That – it's not the same! Not even close! Stop using that dumb video as an excuse for your own bad choices!"

"I'm not talking about the video."

She glared over at him, ready to demand an explanation for his spurious accusation, but he beat her to it.

"You were never really mine to begin with, were you? Not when you spent every day looking over your shoulder at the real object of your desire." Jesse barely managed to keep an impassive tone, his only defence against the humiliation of the truth. "Face it, we both had duplicitous motives for getting involved with each other. You think I wasn't already aware of your tedious melodrama with Finn? I do my research. I knew you were hung up, that you would be particularly susceptible to any play that would foster his petty jealousy. I walked in with my eyes open, and you still managed to cut deep enough to draw first blood."

The irony might have been amusing if it wasn't so demeaning. He folded his arms with an air of gravitas, one that befitted such a damning judgement.

"The fallout from my decisions may have been louder – but your game was more insidious."

Rachel's mouth hung open, suspended in incredulity, as she struggled to comprehend such a wilful misinterpretation of history. Did he really think he could assuage any sense of guilt by deflecting his own duplicity onto her? There was no way she was letting him get away with that.

"I was happy with you!"

The heated retort managed to burn away any lingering caution in either of them, throwing both into the fire pit of unfettered honesty.

"You know, that was the first and only time that I felt like I'd truly turned a page, that I'd moved onto a new chapter! When we were together... I didn't even think about Finn anymore! I didn't miss him, I didn't want him, I didn't care that he suddenly wanted me back! Even when you ditched after the Joey fight, and he made a move on me during that week's assignment, I didn't like it –"

Jesse's features fell into a scowl. She'd neglected to mention that little detail before, and he felt a surge of retrospective scorn towards her oaf of an ex. He didn't have to think too hard to guess what predictable choice of song Hudson had tried it on with either. How utterly lame.

"– it felt wrong, I was just uncomfortable. All I cared about was fixing things with you! You're the one who broke me. Who planted that seed of insecurity that's kept me afraid to stray too far ever since!"

"You talk as if we actually had a shot at a future," he challenged, quick to ensconce his own insecurity behind defensive hypotheticals. "What about when I graduated? What then? Me in college thousands of miles away, gone for long stretches of time, out of sight and mind. How long would you have stayed loyal, really? How long until you succumbed to your old obsession and safety net? Don't stand there and tell me you wouldn't have talked yourself into returning to Hudson's overbearing embrace sooner or later; that I would be anything more than an overlooked memory at the back of your thoughts."

"So what, you figured better to jump before you could be pushed? To burn bridges before they could be crossed?" Rachel's eyes glittered but her cheeks remained dry, her voice hard and brutal with reckoning. "You never even gave us a real chance! You chose to protect your pride and ego rather than take a risk with the unknown. You quit and turned coat because you were afraid! Because you'd have to give up total control and trust someone else with your heart. That's what love is, Jesse! Being vulnerable, being open!"

"And what about you?" he flung back bitterly. "Do as I say, not as I do, huh?"

"You're the one who ran first! Who pulled away, who forced me to learn better!"

Rachel heard the desperation creeping in and hastily turned her back on him. Panic masquerading as dismissal. She found herself gravitating towards the far side of the piano, seeking a physical barrier to replace her collapsing emotional ones. She clawed her fingers through her hair, grasping for any remaining threads of control to stop the unweaving.

"Not that it matters anyway, I suppose. Not when it was all doomed from the beginning. A facade built on pillars of salt and sand..."

She closed her eyes as she spoke, features briefly twisting at the thought of Shelby's hand in her misery. All the lies, all the manipulation and rejection set in motion at her whim. Yet more responsibility she had evaded.

"I wish… I just wish I'd never met you at all."

She was facing away, the words spoken to her feet and perhaps not even meant to be heard, but that did nothing to lessen the retaliatory bile that seethed through his teeth.

"God, so do I."

Jesse saw her gaze fly back to him, those doe eyes wide with affront, and felt a wolfish smirk curve his lips. A wounded and cornered predator reverting to survival instinct.

"But perhaps that's something you should take up with your dear mother."

Like I did.

He was perversely amused by the way she retreated from his approach, keeping a wary distance even as she glowered at him over the ebony mirror between them. He stalked her steps as they circled the piano, his tone barbed with venom, each word biting dangerously close to the jugular.

"Do you have any idea how much simpler my life would be without you? I'd be happily across the country right now, taking easy street through college while building up my resume and experience, my path to performance stardom clear and uncluttered by all… this!"

He smacked down the keylid without thinking, the loud bang echoing in exclamation to his point. He saw Rachel flinch out the corner of his eye and immediately regretted the fit of pique. Not just because it made her jump, but because he would never normally abuse an instrument he felt such fondness for.

The remorse was short-lived.

"But oh no. Instead I'm festering away in this creatively stunted, backwater of a town, dragging Schuester's pet project up the ranks of a competition level I've already surpassed and outgrown all interest in. With the added bonus of being forced to gag on the nausea of you and Hudson attempting to play at happy families, when the truth is that you're so incompatible together that it physically hurts to witness it."

He saw her shoulders stiffen with fury, but she got no chance to interrupt before they emerged from the den of the piano and into open hunting ground. And Jesse was never one to abandon the scent of blood.

"You think I want to be here?" he snarled roughly. "To have your lovesick charade thrown in my face every day?"

"So that's why you took up with her? To get even? For revenge? So I'd know how it felt?!"

Aghast at the fissures of pain that cracked her accusations, Rachel quickly fell back to more solid terrain.

"I didn't ask you to come here, Jesse! I didn't ask you to stay! That was your choice. It all was. You did this to us!"

Realising too late that he was backing her across the floor, Rachel came to an abrupt halt, determined to stand her ground with the same fearless righteousness she had come in with. However, her resolve was tested as he continued to advance, stopping barely a foot away to regard her with a predatory sort of curiosity.

"And what did I do, exactly?"

His voice had dropped to a low taunt, an implicit dare that raised the hair on the back of her neck. He was close enough that she might easily touch a hand to his chest; rest her palm over his heart to check if it was beating as hard as her own. She forced herself to meet his softly storming eyes, her own bright with a grievous truth that could never be spoken.

You wrecked me.

Rachel choked down the sob and stepped back, breaking the stand-off and propelling herself out of his orbit.

"You ruined everything!" she cried instead, throwing out her arms to demonstrate the extent of the crisis. "You shouldn't even be here!" (In Ohio. In McKinley. In this room right now.) "Everything's gone wrong and – and it's all your fault!" (His fault her life had torn apart, his fault she felt so lost and overwhelmed, his fault she didn't even know her own mind anymore.)

Alright so she was ranting a little, but she didn't care. The anger was reassuring, it was familiar, it made sense. And god knows, it was warranted.

"Didn't you take enough from me? Did you have to take my senior year too?" Rachel frowned in exception, despite feeling almost relieved to finally put the blame where it belonged. "If you hadn't insisted on coming back, things would have just fallen into place. This year would have gone perfectly to plan!"

She was sure of it. Without him, there would be no doubts, no conflict, no unending tension to feel guilty about.

Jesse rolled his eyes with a snort of disdain. "Yeah, you would have spent months belittling yourself down to fit into Hudson's perfect girlfriend mould, trying to justify your choices. Trading everything unique about yourself for the idealistic high school experience you always wanted, begging at the feet of the local jock for an unhealthy validation that will somehow make it all worth it."

He took a beseeching step forward but stopped when he saw her quickly withdraw out of reach, her expression dark with reproach. Clenching his jaw so hard it hurt, he compelled himself to gentle his tone, to temper the rancour with concern.

"He doesn't define you, Rachel."

"Neither do you."

The sulky retort was expelled on a huff, a petulant rebuke that nearly made him smile. That was the Rachel he knew.

"No, I don't."

She glanced up suspiciously at his calm agreement. Jesse held her eyes, taking the opportunity to cautiously close the distance between them, speaking with such fundamental certainty that it drew them both in like gravity.

"Your flaws and your strengths do. Your love and your pain do. Your power lies in your passion, your dreams. Don't ever sacrifice that for anyone else."

Rachel wasn't sure she was blinking as they suddenly seemed to come face to face. She inhaled a shiver as his knuckles slowly lifted to graze her throat, his thumb resting on her chin in a light grip. The midnight blue of his gaze glinted with a familiar intensity as he looked down at her, into her. A whisper of a smirk brushed his lips.

"Especially not for someone so obviously your inferior."

The illusion snapped like a bone and Rachel quickly jerked her head out of his touch, casting off the flush of betrayal and fixing him with a haughty glare.

"Finn is the best thing that ever happened to me!" How many times would she have to say this for it to sink in? "He's my anchor, my rock –"

"He's certainly as dense as one."

She bit down the impatient sigh and lifted her chin regally, refusing to stoop to his level.

"That was always your problem, Jesse. You think everyone is inferior, unworthy of your consideration or decency. That kindness is weakness. Well, that's why I love Finn. He's nothing like you, he's pure and good and he always tries to do the right thing. He doesn't have a malicious bone in his body or ulterior motive in his heart. He keeps me grounded, makes me a better person –"

"Finn's a fucking albatross around your neck!"

The volume and vehemence of his outburst caught her by surprise, cutting short her rose-tinted rhapsody with such force that she shrank back slightly. Jesse felt a pang of guilt but couldn't bring himself to recant the offending indictment. She needed to hear the truth, and he would keep telling it to her no matter how much it cost him.

His muscles were starting to itch with suppressed energy, so he took to pacing in an attempt to dispel some of it before it could do any more damage. Even so, he could feel the hungry frustration tearing away at what little composure he had left.

"This co-dependant relationship will do nothing but hold you back! Finn wants to keep you together here in Lima, bind you down while he can, where it's safe and secure for him. Because he knows, once you get a chance to spread your wings, once you get a taste of your true potential, there'll be no caging you up in mediocrity anymore."

He chanced a look at her face, his blackened excuse for a heart squeezing at the sight of her troubled expression; the downward turn of her lips and anxious dance of her eyes as they struggled to absorb the impact of his words. Taking a deep breath, Jesse forced himself to settle and meet her gaze steadily, speaking slower but no less ardently.

"You're meant for so much more, Rachel. To forge your own trail of stardust and fire, and it's obvious that nothing else will ever satisfy you. You really think he can keep up with you? That he wants to try? That he'd be content to live in your shadow? He's so apart from your future, but you're too scared of growing and changing that you're clinging onto a false fairytale."

Rachel frowned, in either thought or annoyance, or more likely both.

"I'm not giving up my dreams for Finn, but every relationship involves some compromise..."

She sounded vaguely unsure about that, as if reciting the adage from memory rather than belief. Swiftly aborting the rest of her sentence, she adopted a dismissive tone instead.

"I don't expect you to understand."

"Hey, I get how it feels to lose sight of what matters. I used to think there was nothing more important to me than my professional career. That nothing else could possibly match that drive for success and recognition. That I had no equal."

He met her eyes with a weighted gaze, one that bruised far harder than any blow.

"I was wrong."

Rachel could only stare back, the words seeming to draw the very air from her lungs, leaving her head light and thoughts reeling. She felt tears push against her throat, irrational and forbidden, and angrily swallowed them down.

He'd said words to this effect before, but never had he stated so clearly just how highly he regarded her. That he considered her his true peer, as important to him as his own future. She honestly hadn't thought it possible.

Their mutual ambition had always been somewhat of a magnetic minefield, simultaneously pulling them together and apart. Their dreams had always felt too big to share, too selfish to allow for true happiness. Two such bright and expanding stars in the same system were surely destined to destroy each other, consumed by the black hole they created. If Jesse was willing to even entertain such a prospect, Rachel was perhaps the only other person in the world who could appreciate just how much that meant.

Why did he have to say that? Blinking furiously, she set her jaw and forced herself to glance away, to drag the shattered remains of her defences around herself once more.

"Well, congratulations on your epiphany," she muttered. "But it's all a bit too little, too late, isn't it?"

"Maybe. Maybe I'm just being altruistic in making sure you don't end up with the same regrets I do."

"How noble of you."

Jesse sighed, ruffling a hand through his hair in a vain attempt to curb his more corrosive emotions. He knew it was futile. Rachel Berry always did manage to plunder new depths of his exasperation, and it seemed their shared existence was defined by a state of perpetual antagonism.

"Come on, do you really think I would have voluntarily chosen any of this?" He gestured to the air between them with a disaffected flick of his hand. "Please. None of this was meant to happen. You weren't supposed to get close enough to hurt, to make it real. It was supposed to be over without ever starting. I was always expected to end it and return to Vocal Adrenaline. A little psychological warfare on our competition and a favour for Shelby – that was the plan I was pitched. If I'd known what a shitshow it would turn into, I would have never agreed. I don't start things I can't finish. I don't play if I can't win."

Rachel scoffed loudly, colour high in her cheeks as she eagerly seized on the convenient reminder of his true nature. She knew where she stood with this Jesse. The boy who had set out to use and abuse her for his own amusement. Well, he would get no clemency from her.

"Am I supposed to apologise for letting you both screw me over with your empty words and heartless intentions? Gee, I'm sorry that your little ruse didn't tie up as neatly as you expected, but you being a sore loser is really not my problem. You should have quit while you were ahead, Jesse, because you won't win this time."

"Depends what you're playing for," he countered, a wry twist to his mouth. "Although even I have to admit that things have been fucked up beyond all expectation."

"And whose fault is that?"

He shook his head, his expression hardening. "Time to stop playing the blame game, Rachel. No-one wins that one."

Jesse turned his face to cast a glance around the empty classroom they stood in, a place that had become more familiar than his apartment over the last few months. Headlights flashed momentarily through the high windows as a lone car swung out the lot and into the dark streets beyond. He still remembered walking in here for the first time, cap in hand to beg Schuester for admission to his woeful little club, forced to up the stakes of his bluff by a powerful backer who held all the aces.

"You weren't the only collateral damage to come out of Shelby's charade," he said slowly, resentment grinding down the pitch of his voice until it was as rough as sandpaper. "God knows, I denied it for long enough, I spent months trying to get my life back on track and put all this crap behind me. I didn't want to come back. I didn't want to care about what you thought of me. Do you have any idea how much effort it takes to stay here?"

"Then why do you!?"

Rachel didn't mean to shout but she felt at her wits' end. She needed to know what possible justification there was for this hell they were living.

Jesse rounded on her with a surge of frustration that bordered on despair.

"Because it takes even more to stay away!"

The violent confession stung her skin like a lash, slicing open old scars that she had tried so hard to close. Tears welled like fresh blood, and she fought to stem them the only way she knew how.

"So you decided to just make both our lives miserable instead!?" she blasted, getting reckless in her recriminations, railing against the needless cruelty of it all. "You thought it better to pass the time of your self-inflicted sentence by looking for new ways to sabotage my relationship? By inserting yourself into every facet of my life like an invasive root I can't dig out! Not to mention teaming up with Quinn for no other reason except pure vindictiveness!"

He was looking at her strangely, an incisiveness in his gaze that cut far too close to the quick.

"Is that what you really believe?"

"Oh, you've got a better explanation for that spiteful hookup, do you?" she shot back, savage with sarcasm. "Just what exactly do you two have in common besides a raging libido and callous manipulation? A mutual love of scripture and highlights perhaps?"

Grim amusement was definitely slanting his lips now, and that unnerved her more than any amount of vitriol.

"I think you're proving the point for me."

Rachel narrowed her eyes dangerously, unable to stop herself rising to the bait.

"Which is?"

Any attempts to hide her jealousy were only ever skin deep and they both knew it, but hell if she was about to admit it out loud. She might have no control over her rebellious feelings but she could control what she did and didn't say. It was the only power she had left. Folding her arms, she fixed him with a contemptuous glare, one that concealed a multitude of sins.

"Everyone knows how you both like to amuse yourselves – that you revel in your own pleasure and others pain – but at least have the courtesy to not subject the rest of us to your obscene displays," she sneered. "Besides, the novelty will wear off soon enough anyway, I'm sure. Once the gossip and controversy wanes, you'll just move on to seek attention from elsewhere. It's pathetic. You don't even want her –"

"I don't?"

Jesse cocked his head in mocking thoughtfulness, his expression shadowed and words sharp with barely veiled challenge.

"What do I want then?"

Rachel got the distinct impression she was slipping further from the path of salvation with every passing second that question hung in the air. She quickly plastered on an imperious scowl of defiance.

"I'm not doing this –"

He snatched out as she made to turn away, hauling her in by the arm and up to his chest. She sucked in a short breath of pain but he held fast, bearing down with a demand she could no longer evade.

"No, please do enlighten me. Seems you have all the answers after all."

She could hear the smoky rasp in his voice, felt the rush of his breath against her face, and desperately stomped down the butterflies that threatened to derail her objections. Anger was ugly but safe. This was fatal.

"Jesse, don't..." she ordered, half pleadingly, as she tried again to break away. The room felt suddenly airless, the friction thick and suffocating. She had to leave.

The clamp on her flesh flexed unconsciously and she bit the inside of her cheek, refusing to wince. He must have noticed anyway as the pressure quickly eased in wordless apology. Despite no longer being restrained, they lingered in their positions, arms entwined between their torsos as if caught midway through a courtly dance. Rachel met his gaze and silently begged him to not push any further, to not cast her to the churning waves that she had just barely escaped from the last time.

Yet as she watched the moon rise through his dusky eyes, she could feel herself being pulled in like the tide.

"Say it," he commanded softly, leaning close enough to almost brush her nose with his.

The words sent a longing shiver through her body, one that chased away the rightful scorn that should be screaming in the back of her mind. With that last nudge, Rachel finally fell to the will-o'-the-wisps that beckoned so enticingly, condemned to follow their lights into the deathly marshes that awaited.

"…me."

She uttered the fateful answer against his lips, barely above a whisper, her brow creasing as the wretched truth was reluctantly torn from her. A curse and an absolution.

Fuck yes, he wanted her. In the worst kind of way. Jesse's gaze flickered over her face before returning to her umber eyes; crystalline pools that threatened to drown him with their aching vulnerability. With every muscle seemingly spring-locked with tension, it took all his self-control to keep his movements slow and careful.

"And you?" he murmured, running his thumb along her cheekbone with a feather-light touch and invisible smirk. "Tell me what you want. Anything."

Rachel fought the urge to tremble as he echoed the lines back to her from that ill-fated rehearsal, knowing all too well there was no role to hide behind now, no watching eyes to keep them in check. She felt his fingers slide behind her ear, caressing the sensitive skin there with that same alluring confidence that had burnt her so badly before. When no ready speech came to her aid, she wet her dry lips with the tip of her tongue and tried again. A nervous habit she regretted too late as she saw his eyes lower and darken in response.

"You refused Finn," he said abruptly, a guttural resonance to his voice that sent a forbidden frisson of desire racing through her nerves. "Why?"

Somewhere in the depths of her rational senses, Rachel bridled at the unbelievable impudence. That was none of his business! Spurred into action at such a display of arrogance, she harrumphed under her breath and made to pull away – only to find that he wouldn't allow her to squirm even an inch away from him. She was trapped. By his grip, by his warmth, by the secret they shared. And she hated it.

"You don't know anything," she hissed through gritted teeth.

His lips skimmed the shell of her ear. "I know enough."

She feared he actually knew too much. Everything about him was too much. A blood red flag that called out to her bullish nature, an instinct that overruled survival. Rachel still bore the wounds from the last time he had run her through, and yet somehow she had limped away to live another day, found sanctuary from the violence of his love.

Or so she'd thought.

His eyes found hers once more and she felt all but strangled by his hold on her heart; crushed by the pressure of his gaze. She had barely noticed the slip of his fingers as they lightly covered hers; guiding her hand just enough to spread her palm flat against his sternum. Rachel inhaled shakily, adrenaline flooding her body against her will at the intimate touch. She could feel the burning heat of his skin under his shirt, could count every swell and ebb of air in his lungs. They were too close...

"I know you."

She was aware only of his hand cradling her face, his breath against her cheek, and then his lips crashing into hers like a ship wrecked upon rocks. She writhed in his hold, protests struggling to escape her captured mouth, desperate to resist the siren call that threatened to sink them both in these dark seas. Yet when she felt him deepen the kiss hard enough to make her gasp, Rachel knew somewhere inside that she was as lost as those hopeless sailors, at peace in their watery graves.

All too readily, she yielded to the demand of his touch, moulding herself flush against his torso and plunging her fingers into his loose curls with a wanton grip. She felt the thunder of his heart pressed hard against her chest and it struck like lightening through her own, sparking a painful electricity in her veins. Perhaps surrender was inevitable. Rachel had never been good at resisting temptation, and it was simply against her nature to deny herself anything.

She soon realised just how much he had been holding back in rehearsal – for as much as that illicit embrace had shaken her, the strength and abandon in his kiss now all but stole her breath away, leaving her limbs weak and skin tingling. How had she learned to live without this? How could it be that despite all the anger, all the hurt, all the distrust – how could the combustion of their volatile chemistry be just as powerful as ever?

He was everywhere, filling her senses to the brim, a piquancy as intoxicating and deadly as the sweetest belladonna berries. The same alchemy that had allowed Juliet to seal her own fate.

She barely suppressed a reluctant whimper when he finally released her mouth. A willing retreat that took her by surprise, until she realised it was merely a tactical ceasefire to survey the damage and gauge the battlefield. Any attempt to retrieve her scattered thoughts out of the few inches of no-man's land that suddenly separated them was thwarted by his hand that cupped her neck, keeping their faces almost unbearably close. Her pulse raced and skipped in anticipation as his thumb slowly stroked the line of her jaw, his dark gaze meeting her own through the echo of their laboured breathing.

Jesse was silent for a long moment as he took in the irresistible sight before him, painstakingly committing every detail to memory. Her full and kiss bitten lips, rosy and glistening. The starry skies of her pupils, blown wide with passion. The thick silk of her raven hair, freshly mussed from his fingers. Even if she spurned him another hundred times, he would always have this. Even if it would never be more. Even if it would never be enough.

He barely recognised his own voice when he found it again, the chords scratched raw and dry by a constant thirst that couldn't be quenched.

"I don't kiss Quinn like that."

Rachel tensed as she felt a fresh fever grip her body. Some ungodly combination of temper and jealousy and lust took a hold of her sanity, a compulsion that had her yanking his mouth back to hers like he was her only source of oxygen. If he was caught off guard at all, she would never know it from the speed and force with which he returned the embrace. She drank in the taste and feel of him greedily, her nails digging into the nape of his neck hard enough to leave white crescents behind, hot possessiveness licking up her insides with a fiery tongue.

Mine. All mine.

The tempest that had chased them down for so long had finally broken, bringing with it a burst of spring rain that soaked to the skin and awakened the blood. Rachel felt more than heard the rumble in his chest as he dropped his arms to wrap them strongly around her waist. She was dimly aware of them making their way across the floor, Jesse all but lifting her toes off the ground to prevent their legs getting tangled. Probably a good idea since she seemed to have lost all semblance of balance and poise. Groping blindly at the collar of his jacket, she attempted to wrangle it off his shoulders, anxious to burrow into the naked scent of him that lay under the worn leather and lingering aftershave. He breathed a muffled sound into her mouth, one that could have been either a chuckle or a growl.

She registered only a faint scrape of metal as they collided with the table that stood outside Mr. Schue's office, both too busy grappling with lips and limbs as she was quickly hoisted up and pushed onto the cool surface. The second she was seated, Jesse took over from her clumsy efforts to rid him of his armour, stripping the offending item off his arms and tossing it to the ground, somehow without ever breaking the fevered pace of their kiss.

Rachel hardly knew what she was doing even as she clutched at his biceps, bunching up the short sleeves there in her knuckles, grasping for any kind of purchase in their mutual fumbling. She heard him inhale sharply, felt the muscles beneath her hands knot and shudder as she let her fingers roam freely over his physique, tracing the taut sinews with all the dedication of a cartographer mapping out an undiscovered land. Keening softly against his lips, the chequered folds of her skirt were soon stretching tight and riding high as she hooked her legs around the back of his thighs, entrapping the warmth of his body against her own, her every impulse at the mercy of a wilful physicality she had never fully acknowledged before.

If she currently had any capacity left for critical thought, Rachel might have wondered at her own boldness. Yet with every breathless hammer of her heart, the swirl of hormones that pounded through her blood seemed to roar louder: unbiddable, ungovernable, a riot that could so easily tear down everything it had taken her so long to build. And it was strangely exhilarating. A primal thrill that only the prospect of annihilation could arouse.

Fast losing what remained of his patience, Jesse resorted to ripping the last few buttons clean off her mustard yellow cardigan, his usual dexterity failing him in the heat of their frenzy. He might have felt bad – but then again what did she expect when she was making noises like that. God, she was practically mewling under his touch, her knees squeezing his hips, urging him to all but fall into her and never resurface.

She always wore far too many layers for his liking anyway.

With his encouragement the garment quickly slid off her shoulders and gathered at her elbows as he banded his arms around her midriff in an iron grip. Her fingers ensnared in his hair for support as he consumed her mouth like a starving man at a feast, savouring every stifled sigh and soft hum on her lips like they were the most delectable of sweet treats. He pushed forward without thinking, forcing her to arch her back in response as they bent over the desk. His hands slipped beneath her untucked blouse and trailed up her bare sides and over her ribs, expertly treading that thin line between tickling and tempting.

A frightening craving was raging under Rachel's skin, one that only intensified as she felt him lower his mouth to the column of her throat, the sultry heat of his breath making her flush as he proceeded to gently pinch and suckle on the tender flesh there. She had never felt so hyper aware of her own body before. Or so attuned to another's. At the sly stroke of his thumb across her nipple, Rachel jerked up into his shoulder with a high pitched whine. The muscles in her thighs were starting to cramp with the need to press them together. She buried her nose into the crook of his neck in an attempt to distract herself, clinging to the earthy aroma of his scent and nestling close enough to feel the erratic thrum of his pulse against her cheek.

When his kisses started to venture below her neckline, biting hard enough to leave a mark, she hastily pulled him up and pressed her forehead to his with a shallow breath. Unperturbed by the redirection, Jesse took the opportunity to comb his fingers through her tumble of locks, toying with the ebony tresses almost lazily, easing the frantic tempo between them just enough to allow some of his more refined skills to come to the fore.

When he kissed her again, it was slow and soft and teasing. Rachel felt her toes curl as he slowly licked into her parted mouth, effortlessly languid, as if she were a melting popsicle in the summer sun and he wanted to relish every last drop. A muffled moan escaped her, embarrassingly lascivious, and she just knew he was smirking without opening her eyes. Determined to even the score, she braced her hands around the back of his neck and duly grazed her teeth over his lower lip, tugging it between her own and sucking lightly. She was rewarded by a drawn out and throaty groan, one that was dragged from deep within his chest and reverberated low in the pit of her stomach.

Rachel blinked as she felt him abruptly break away, the sudden loss of contact unbalancing her physically as much as emotionally. With her lungs heaving in trepidation and eyes cloudy with desire, she watched him come to kneel before her, a move that felt almost reverent in its unspoken supplication. When he lifted her leg to lay it on his shoulder, she felt her arms start to tremble with the strain of keeping herself upright.

Caressing along her shin, Jesse began to peel down the nylon knee sock that rubbed against his jaw, rolling the fabric carefully under his fingers to avoid ruining any more of her wardrobe. When he reached her ankle, he began the torturous task of retracing his path back over her now exposed and goose pimpled skin. Displaying all the control and skill of a Renaissance master, he etched the slope of her quivering limb with meticulous detail, taking his time to nip at the soft flesh of her calve and press a kiss to the dimple of her knee as he went.

Struggling to catch her breath, Rachel felt all but undone by his easy authority over her body, her stimuli receptors fast going into overdrive. She hardly dared move for fear of interrupting his focus, unwilling to disrupt the artwork being laid upon her canvas despite the increasingly strong shivers that twitched through her nervous system. She tensed further as his hands travelled higher, his hot palms smoothing over her curves as they stroked up her legs to play with the hem of her skirt. When his lips brushed against her inner thigh, Rachel finally managed to summon her voice again, as rusty as it was.

"Jesse, w-what –"

...he wouldn't...

The incredulous thought was refuted barely a heartbeat later, when she felt the touch of his mouth skimming over her warm and wanting core.

Rachel told herself it was just the surprise that made her gasp so keenly, shudder so violently, even as every cell in her body seemed to electrify at the overload of sensation. Molten heat throbbed heavy in her belly, coiling tight in her nerves, demanding an act of submission she wasn't prepared to give. She fought the absurd impulse to clench her legs around his head and instead wriggled against him restlessly, awash in a desperate need for him to… to… she scarcely even knew what, and suddenly wished she'd paid more attention to Santana's graphic gloating over the years.

As it was, the intimacy of his whispering breath alone was proving almost too much. Her head dropped back with a harsh exhale, eyes squeezing shut with the effort.

"F-Fuck," she stuttered, her mind going dangerously blank in the ripple of foreshocks that convulsed her muscles.

Jesse smiled at the rare curse on her lips, revelling in the delicious thrill it sent racing through his groin. His fingers flexed around her thighs as he pressed another tantalizing kiss to the damp cotton of her underwear, a blush pink affair adorned with little white hearts that was somehow hotter than the most expensive silk and lace. Her sweet and heady scent filled his lungs, waging unholy war on his already tenuous restraint. The dark corners of his mind were growing ever more insistent, his thoughts racing as fast as his blood at the possibilities: everything he could do, everything he wanted to do, contemplating what other obscene profanities he could elicit if given the opportunity.

She reflexively bucked against him then, her heels digging hard into his back, and he groaned her name into the balmy skin that cushioned his cheek. With his jeans getting more uncomfortable by the minute, Jesse shifted his position slightly before reaching under her skirt to grip her hips. He tugged her closer to the edge of the table with such force that her slick palms slid back on the surface in a jolt, causing a precarious stack of folders that sat behind her to cascade to the floor.

The abrupt whoosh of scattered paper was just jarring enough to allow some fragment of rational thought to break through the siege that accosted her. Rachel attempted to pry her eyes open, desperately tried to remind herself where they were, what they were doing, where this was going if she continued to defy her better judgement like this.

"J-Jesse, don't… you – you have to s-stop –"

The words sounded as weak and breathless as she felt, scrambling as she was to find the equilibrium on which to ground her assertions with any conviction. God, she wanted to give in so badly. To let herself fall. To embrace the beauty of their precious sin once more and find the forgiveness within it, the mercy that had so long eluded them.

But she knew better this time. Didn't she? She wasn't the naïve innocent anymore, swept up in pretty words and earnest pleas, and she wouldn't be seduced into her own destruction again.

She had to wake up from this dream, this memory, this enduring refrain. It would only consume her all over again. This was surely madness…

"W-We can't do this –"

"Why?"

She faltered at the strangely calm question, sensing the dangerous rip-tide that lay under it. Rachel barely moved, barely breathed, as she watched him lift his head and slowly move over her as he rose up her body. Despite the cold, artificial light of the classroom, the space between them felt dark and stuffy somehow, almost claustrophobic in its intensity. As their gazes drew level, she finally glimpsed the tortured shadows that ever ghosted through those fiercely intelligent eyes. Heartache without end. His irises had turned nearly black, the playful cerulean she knew so well swallowed up in seasoned darkness, engulfed by the secrets and songs of a shared story that had never stopped haunting them both.

"Tell me why, hmm? Because it's good?"

She almost missed the knowing words that were exhaled over her lips, aware only of the deep and ragged pitch of his voice, the agonising feel of his fingers as they slowly drew up the inside of her thigh in pointed demonstration, blistering the sensitive skin with his prints. She briefly frowned through half lidded eyes. That was such dirty pool, pulling lines from her all time most beloved musical. However before she could call him out, his hand moved again and she sucked in a breath as his thumb pressed against her very centre, whetting her nerves endings to the point that it took all her strength not to close her legs like a vice and trap his wicked fingers against her forever.

Forcing herself to meet his gaze again, Rachel focused all her attention on his face instead. She took in the perpetually youthful features that hovered so close to hers, a melody suspended in time. He was still the same. His fine lashes and parted lips, the refined structure of his cheekbones and light sheen to his skin. His hair was getting longer and messy again, falling over his forehead, and she was overcome with the urge to bury her fingers in those unruly waves, to rest her head on top of his and hug him painfully close. To save him from himself.

His eyes never left hers as he raised his hand to stroke his thumb over her bottom lip, gently plucking at the plump, wet flesh in an echo of her earlier gesture. Rachel could suddenly think of nothing else but capturing those skilled digits in her mouth, flicking her tongue against the pad of his thumb and sucking softly on his fingertips. The distant patter of water against glass registered in the back of her mind, and she dimly wondered when it had begun to rain. The steady rhythm sounded almost like a heartbeat, a pulse beating in sync with their own.

He tilted her chin up until it was almost touching his, his other hand fisting at her waist to grip her tight, keeping her close like an oath that could never be spoken. The question he whispered into her mouth unleashed a potent shiver in her bones, chilling her skin but igniting her blood.

"Because it makes us feel something?"

She knew it was a line, merely pretence, a means to an end. The tease was there in his voice, carefully conscious, though it couldn't quite disguise the edge of desperation that growled underneath. Yet something in her heart still clenched in longing, the familiar words stirring something dark and wild and lost inside her, something that clamoured to be found and claimed once more.

The sense of urgency that overtook her felt almost mournful.

Before she could even try to explain or control it, she was crushing him to her with a strength she didn't know she possessed and kissing him like it was the last time she ever could. As if it was the only moment they would ever have. A lifetime's worth of yearning seemed to be pouring through her like a river of tears, everything denied and stolen and forgotten, wistful tales and dreams lamented under a bruised purple sky. They had wounded each other so much, so deeply, but still they couldn't let go. Still, even now, she would gladly stay forever in the darkness with him; sacrifice every chance for freedom, if it meant they would never feel that accursed loneliness ever again. Were they just too broken?

His body was hot and hard against hers, pressing them closer and closer to the precipice. A leap of faith that she couldn't take, wouldn't survive, and yet it was getting harder and harder to care. His kiss was fierce, exploring and demanding everything she had to give, and Rachel answered the challenge eagerly, never one to give up control without a fight. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she sank deep into the aching fire of his embrace. Her hold only tightened when she felt his adept fingers slide down to dance along her vertebra with the same skill with which he manipulated piano keys, making her nerves tingle and sing in response. She sighed into his mouth and he smiled against her lips. She burned everywhere they touched. Her body begged for a release that was so close. All it would take was a single word, a permission she could never take back. It would be so easy…

But harsh reality could only be silenced for long.

Through the haze of adrenaline, through the drumming of passion, still they came. The memories echoing from deep inside her mind, from the vault of terrifying pain she had tried so hard to bury.

'I loved you.'

'Do it.'

'I knew you'd break my heart.'

'I should have been enough for you!'

'If I give myself to you… I might die.'

No.

No.

She fought to break the kiss, to catch her voice enough to do more than just moan in protest.

"S-Stop… Jesse, stop!"

She felt him stiffen at the sudden force of her assertions, the clear command in her voice. She could feel the tension that flared in his muscles, his grip turning painful as he struggled to gather his senses, to regain control. His breathing was rough and frayed against her jaw, his face close but gaze downcast and hidden. Rachel laid her hands against his chest, her fingers gripping into his shirt in restraint, but he didn't try to kiss her again.

Taking a fortifying breath, she tried to articulate a justification she really didn't owe. Any attempt to bargain with their impetuous natures that itched to overthrow any hint of rationality.

"You can't just… this is wrong. It – It isn't fair…"

"To who? Quinn?"

He almost sounded amused, though there was little humour in his mocking words. Rachel flinched at the cruel gibe, before immediately scolding herself for letting him bait her so easily. She quickly composed her expression as he finally pulled back to meet her face, easing the pressure of his hold but still entrapping her inside the brace of his arms. His eyes had hardened ever so slightly, a cool but brittle glaze over a silent storm.

"Quinn's a big girl. She knew what she was getting into."

His hand moved to gently cup her jaw as he spoke, a gesture altogether too tender for such taunting. He was pressing his advantage; a ploy that should rightfully make her rigid with outrage, but such combative emotions seemed beyond her capabilities right now. Instead, Rachel felt caught in the teeth of a deep-seated and chaotic confusion, shaken and torn apart by conflicting instincts.

She felt his fingertips graze her hairline, rubbing small circles into the base of her scalp, managing to soothe her even in his cynicism. Rachel closed her eyes, unable to think straight with everything crashing in all at once, and she felt herself leaning into his warmth out of sheer intuition. She touched his wrist and nuzzled into his palm, desperate for any small comfort she could steal. The sigh that crossed her lips felt drawn from the very marrow of her bones.

"What are we getting into?"

She was barely conscious of speaking out loud, only becoming aware when she felt his hand pull away from her cheek. Lifting her face and opening her eyes, she watched him stroke some hair behind her ear, his knuckles kissing her temple.

"You tell me."

It was an invitation, a demand, an entreaty.

This time it was her choice to make. To fight or flight.

And Rachel was so tired of fighting.

"I… I can't."

I'm sorry.

Why did it feel like she was admitting defeat? Rachel didn't have time to ponder the question as she quickly disentangled herself and slid off the table. She met no resistance as she pushed free but she didn't dare glance back, refusing to wait for his reaction. Only just remembering to snatch up her bag on her way out, Rachel fled the classroom in tense silence.

Halfway down the corridor, she thought she heard a muffled bang behind her, the sound echoing ominously in the empty building like the slamming of a jail cell. It carried the same sense of despair. She winced, digging her teeth into her bruised lip, before hastily yanking up her cardigan as she all but ran out of the school. She would have to deal with her own punishment soon enough.

/o/

Inside the choir room, Jesse found that his kick had managed to shove the table a good distance across the floor but had done little to vent the grief and frustration that curdled his blood. Turning away, he braced his forearms against the wall and buried his head into the aching tendons, hunching over in an attempt to contain the urge to inflict some real criminal damage on McKinley. His shoulders heaved with the effort of breathing, the muscles in his back corded up like hawser rope. Clenching his fists tight enough to split the skin of his palms, he squeezed his eyes shut with a deep shudder.

She was fucking killing him.

Whoever said that love was a blessing, was a goddamn filthy liar. Love was a fucking bitch. She kicked you and beat you and drew blood with unrelenting distain. Who in their right mind would ever willingly wish this upon themselves? He certainly never had, but it had still gone out of its way to find him. He could hate it and resent it until his soul withered, but it seemed he simply couldn't live without it anymore.

And Jesse honestly didn't know how much more of it he could endure.

~o~

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AN Reviews are golden rings for Sonic and mushrooms for Mario. On the other hand if no-one is bothered, I'll just stop.