A/N: New story! So my plan is for this to be a multi-chapter fic. Let me know your thoughts after the chapter! This is based on spoilers I've read about Jesse and Rachel's reunion. Hope you enjoy!

Don't Look Back

It was only natural that she ran into him in the exact spot they had first met. She was looking through music, Mr. Schue's latest assignment buzzing in her ears as she searched for the perfect piece. She had something to prove after Regionals. She had shown that she could carry the team, as she had countless times, but now she had to keep the momentum.

"Rachel Berry."

The voice was like a lost memory, one that she had all but forgotten yet recognized the moment it was unearthed. She didn't dare turn, every muscle in her body tensing as she kept her eyes trained on the music. Maybe if she pretended that she didn't hear him he would leave her alone. He knew her well, after all, and must be able to read that the feigned ignorance was in fact quite deliberate.

She knew him too, though, and he would not pass up an opportunity like the one before them. He called out her cold shoulder as he moved beside her and said, "Your tensed shoulders gave you away."

Looking up at him in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner she said, "Hello Jesse."

He flashed her a grin and then turned his attention to the music in her hand. He took it from her, the book slipping from her grasp as easily as her self-control. Already she could feel her hands begin to tremble and she shoved them in the pockets of her dress as she looked to the side. That would not do, though. No, she was not the one who should look away. She was not the one who was in the wrong. He was, and with that thought she forced her gaze up toward him, setting her face into a hard look of steel as he smiled down at her.

That damn smile.

Even with all her steel it made her stomach flip.

"Adele," he said. "Let me guess, strong female artists?"

She shook her head at his guess as to the assignment and told him, "Power ballad."

"Which song were you thinking?"

It amazed her how quickly they had fallen into the same old pattern, and frightened her how easily she had accepted it. She was supposed to be angry. She was supposed to resent him and she made a quick song choice to reflect this as she told him, "Rolling in the Deep."

"An admirable choice," he said, nodding his head appreciatively. "Not to mention fantastic vocals."

"It's the perfect choice," Rachel replied haughtily.

A sliver of a smile and he said, "How about a test run?"

It was like a mirror image of the first time they met, him leading her over to the piano. The mirror had cracks, though. She was no longer the innocent, wide-eyed girl with his name just waiting to drip from her lips. He had taken that innocence from her; piece by piece he had stripped her until she was completely bare.

He began to play, fingers moving seamlessly over the keys. He looked to her at the first verse's entrance and she felt her stomach clench. How could one simple look be so intimate?

There's a fire burning in my heart

Reaching a fever pitch

And bringing me after dark

Finally I can see you crystal clear

Go and ahead and sell me out

And I"ll lay your shit bare

See how I leave with every piece of you

Don't underestimate the things that I will do

There's a fire staring in my heart

Reaching a fever pitch and bringing me after dark

The scars of your love

Remind me of us

Keep me thinking that we almost had it all

He grabbed her entrance then, voice cutting into hers as he sang the second part of the bridge.

The scars of your love

They leave me breathless

They had me thinking

She wanted him to stop. The song was hers. It was her message to him, a message that shifted and changed when he lent his voice to it.

We could've had it all

Rolling in the deep

You had my heart and soul

In your hands

And you played it to the beat.

She dropped off as he took a hold of the chorus again. It was almost cruel the way he threw the words at her. He had no right to be saying any of this, but then she remembered the look on his face after she dangled Puck and Finn in front of him. She remembered his words moments before the egg connected with her forehead.

We could have had it all

Rolling in the deep

You had my heart and soul

In your hands

He was too close. Everyone was watching them, and she felt an uncharacteristic urge to shrink away. All these people shouldn't be watching. This was too personal, too real. Couldn't they see that this was not a moment for prying eyes? The fight for power between them, the upperhand that she was beginning to think neither of them actually wanted, made her want to run. This was not how it was supposed to go. This was her song, not theirs.

And you played it

You played it

You played it

You played it to the beat

The music stopped and she could barely catch her breath. Perhaps the song had been a poor choice because with him beside her and the lyrics playing in her ears, it dredged up all sorts of memories that she had fought to forget. It had taken a lot for her to move on. There were many cries in the showers, many deleted iTunes songs. She could never listen to Lionel Richie's Hello again, not without becoming unbearably sour. All of this she had done to erase whatever he had done to her, and for a while it had appeared to work.

He licked his lips, preparing to speak, and she thought to herself, If only forgetting this boy was easy as deleting a few songs.

She hopped from the bench before he could speak. She didn't want to hear what he was going to say. It would only upset her more. In fact, anything he did would only upset her more and she already felt on the verge of tears. With that in mind, she left without a word. Adopting a sort of tunnel vision, she told herself to just keep moving forward.

Forward motion. Away from him. Away from the past. She would not look back, not when he called out to her, not even when every bit of her wanted to take just one more glance, catch one more image to add to the rest that she would promptly forget. Escaping as quickly as she could from the music store, she didn't look back.

If she did, she would have seen that she left her purse.

A/N: So, should I continue?