Jade has been sitting in their bedroom with the door locked for thirty seven minutes cutting things up when there's a knock at the door.

First of all, she hasn't used scissors for anything malicious since she was eighteen years old. Fine, twenty. Twenty two at the most. She was in college, she knows that much. There had been pictures of bitches to cut up, and so she'd done it, but since then, she'd gotten a bit tamer - especially since she had kids. The fact that she has kids, by the way, was something that she couldn't quite grasp yet - even if they were five and eight. She had never really wanted kids, or so she claimed, but she'd watched as Beck moped around like a sad puppy who'd just been neutered when she explained this, and kind of felt terrible. He wanted kids - he'd talked about it all the fucking time - and if he wanted them, she'd give them to him. She knew she'd be a good mom, because she knew how not to be a bad one thanks to her own, she knew Beck would be a good dad, because he's Beck. The fact was, they balanced each other out - she knew that in itself meant they'd make pretty good parents, and they had so far, until lately.

Something had been creeping under her skin, crawling, lacing its way around her veins and squeezing so tightly she couldn't see straight. Something called jealousy - a shocker (read: not at all), but there it was. The thing was that Tori and Andre had moved back to LA with their new son, Robbie, who was fresh from the adoption agency. Jade honestly found it a little annoying - not that she was against adoption or anything, but the fact was she knew Tori was doing this shit to push her ("Look at Jade, having her kids naturally - look what I did, I saved one instead of being selfish and getting good and fucked, and probably relaxing a little bit.") - because really, the fact that Tori and Andre, two stunningly attractive people (even she could admit that) weren't going to procreate was bullshit. Whatever - she was happy for the kid, she figured he'd get a shot at life this way rather than sitting in an orphanage singing about hard knocks, or something. She could understand their decision, it didn't mean she didn't think they were kind of assholes for rubbing her two cute little Beck and Jade clones in her face and making her feel bad about them. The fact that anything and everything Tori Vega did still got under her skin was something that Beck had never really gotten over, but he pretty much ignored it - he had, ever since the day they'd signed their marriage license (hopefully a little bit before that).

Currently, she was cutting up pictures from their wedding - they were copies (relax), because she had a daughter who was addicted to glitter and happened to be a little jittery. She knew that if she didn't keep at least a few sets of copies around, the ones that her mother had stuck in an album and given her (like that was some magnificent gift she couldn't have made herself, or perhaps paid twenty bucks at the one hour photo for,) would get ruined by her hyperactive kids who didn't understand what "don't ever touch that, grandma made it and it'll burn your skin off if you do," meant. The fact that she had wedding photos at all, let alone fancy ones, kind of ticked her off (right now, at least, mid-fight,) - usually though, she was proud of them. Proud of the fact that she'd been able to do something that she knew Beck had kind of always wanted, proud of the fact that she'd been deliriously happy enough on her wedding day not to have to had fake smile once. Right now, she's cutting Beck's head into five identical pieces - something completely unheard of on anyone else's skull, but his happened to be the perfect size for trapezoids. She made angular cuts, slicing slowly. It was stupid, really, the fact that they were fighting at all - but she couldn't get over the fact that Tori was back (even if she'd come with a husband in tow, and a kid,) and she couldn't handle that the two of them had been hanging out. A lot.

Sure, he'd married her. Sure, he'd gotten her pregnant (twice,) watched her go through childbirth (twice,) and still found her hot (or so he said,) - sure, they'd unconditionally (despite a few break ups here and there,) loved each other since they were fourteen fucking years old, but regardless of any of these facts, Jade's jealous side happened to crawl right out of her body the second she heard the name Tori Vega (no matter how completely attached it was to the name Andre Harris).

She'd seen Tori since she'd been back in town approximately four times. Once, at their housewarming party, at which she'd dumped a glass of champagne down Tori's front (she'd been a little drunk, but that didn't mean she hadn't meant it,) the other three at really, really awkward double date dinners. They'd shared a babysitter (one who had immediately told them she'd never watch their kids again, something that made Jade radiate with pride), which meant their kids now liked each other ("When are we gonna see Robbie again," her daughter, Cat, had wined, ignoring the fact that Jade was now squeezing her hand a bit tighter, "he has funny hair.") - rather unfortunate.

The fact is, Jade is jealous of Tori. Jade has always been jealous of Tori - not because she's talented, and not because she's beautiful. Jade is both of those things, and she knows it - but for some reason or another, Beck felt the need to be close with Tori. He always had, and Jade figured he probably always would (he probably felt that way too, but he would never say it out loud,) - regardless, she loathed Tori Vega, even still, even in her late twenties. It was something she'd never been able to outgrow, and it had just sparked the biggest fight she and Beck have ever had. She remembers him saying, "I'm never going to fucking leave you, Jade, don't you get that? I love you - that's it." She also remembers only believing half of it, and she knows there's something wrong with that. She knows there's something wrong with her - even after all these years, she can't just let herself be happy, but it's gnawing at something inside of her, something she's not even sure exists. He'd walked out the door after she'd screamed in his face, "I don't understand why you don't get that I can't deal with her - I've never been able to deal with her, why would that change? Just because there's a fucking ring on my finger doesn't mean I'm a different person, Beck - you know that. You've always known that!"

He'd mumbled something incoherent under his breath that she was currently wishing she'd heard, and then stormed down the stairs and slammed the front door. From their bedroom, she'd heard her son trying to comfort his sister, and had never been more proud of him (he was sort of her mini-me, though he did have some of his dad in him, considering Jade would have never been caught dead comforting anyone unless it was Beck, and even then that usually just meant giving him a blow job in the janitor's closet) but hadn't had the strength to go downstairs and tell him so, or hug her daughter. Speaking of her daughter, she figures that Cat, the little brown haired girl who has Beck's eyes and mouth, is pounding on her door right now, but still chooses to ignore it because she's in her own head, and doesn't think she can be a mom right now. Then, though, the knocks grow louder, and the tiny hands she'd wiped a mixture of ketchup and egg yolks (don't ask) off of this morning couldn't possibly be making this much damn noise. She knows it's not their son, Damien, either, because he knows when to leave his mother alone - he knows because he's just like her, and he gets it, even if he's still too young to be getting things like that. She hears another few loud raps of knuckles against wood, and then the door flings open. She makes a mental note to tell Beck to fix the lock after they've had make up sex in the shower later, especially after she sees the towering figure of Tori Vega standing in the doorway. She rolls her eyes, throwing her scissors at the carpet, scattering little pieces of Beck's face all over the floor and leaving them there so he can see what she's done later.

"What," she snaps, looking up at her. She pulls her knees into her chest, setting her chin on it and running a hand through her dark hair. She raises a brow, "what do you want?"

"We need to go," Tori says urgently, her expression distant and unclear, "we need to go now."

"What are you talking about," Jade snaps, tucking her hair behind her ear, "I'm not going anywhere. Not with you."

"Jade," Tori looks at her seriously, and she kind of wants to snap her pretty little neck, "Andre's going to watch the kids. We need to go. Now."

Jade's brows furrow - what the fuck is she talking about? "What the fuck are you talking about?" She stands up, pushing the sleeves of Beck's plaid shirt up around her arms and pulling it tighter around her waist, fiddling with one of the buttons to distract herself. Tori throws a pair of shoes at her, giving her a look as she roots around for something else.

"Now, Jade. It's Beck."

That's when Jade's brain kicks into panic mode - what the fuck about Beck? She and Beck had gotten in a fight, he'd gone out. "He's not here," Jade says, lowly, dropping her shoes back on the ground, "and I don't know what you want with him, considering you've got a husband and a son in my living room, bu-,"

"No," Tori gives her a look, "something happened. The hospital called me because I was the last call out on his phone," Jade ignores the fact that the hospital didn't call his fucking wife, trying to swallow her anger, "and it's bad. We have to go there." Tori grabs Jade's forearms, tugging her by the sleeves to try to reinforce her point. She shakes the girl off, but something grave enters her brain then, and she has to ask one more time.

"What are you talking about," her voice is soft, and it cracks during the second half of the world 'talking' as she watches Tori's face fall.

"We have to go to the hospital," Tori repeats, in the same voice she's heard her use with Cat, "Beck is in the hospital." Pangs of worry flood through Jade's chest - her brain is in overdrive, but she stays surprisingly calm on the outside. She does simple things, like put on her socks and the shoes Tori had thrown at her earlier, but she's slow. Her limbs aren't moving as fast as they could be, her hands and feet feel like fucking lead. Her hair falls into her face and it takes her about three long, full seconds before she manages to push it out. Meanwhile, her mind races - what the fuck happened to Beck? What the fuck is going on? Where is Cat? Where is Damien? Where is Beck, what is going on? Why is Tori here, what is she saying? What happened? All the questions running through her mind are giving her a fucking migraine, and all she wants to do is sit back down on the floor and continue cutting Beck's face into perfectly identical little trapezoids and keep scattering them across the floor for him to see. She wants him to know that she's mad at him, mad at him for seeing Tori behind her back (even if it was entirely platonic, and Cat had been there, playing with Robbie,) mad at him for lying about it, mad at him for not understanding this is still an insecurity she has no matter how long they've been together, and will probably always have no matter how long they are together (he told her he promised forever, but now who knows.)

(She doesn't care if there's a ring on her finger, she doesn't care that there are framed pictures all over her fucking house of them smiling with their kids, looking happy. Nothing is ever going to make her feel all the way okay when Tori Vega is around, no matter what. She looks at Tori's engagement ring. It's bigger than hers - Andre has a shit ton of money, being an overly successful music producer will do that. They have money, too, but she hadn't needed a giant fucking rock to signify anything. She looks down at the ring on on her finger, recalling how she hadn't wanted it in the first place - she'd thrown it back at Beck, laughing when it smacked him in the face and watched him dig it out of his bowl of cereal, then slip it on her finger, milk still dripping from it.)

She sighs, looking over at Tori, who tugs her out of the room and down the stairs. Cat is screaming something at Damien, whose got Robbie pinned to the floor. The older boy is pulling the younger boy's curly hair, as Cat howls, "Stop touching him! Stop doing that right now!" Andre ignores them, staring at the television, his expression blank, his eyes distant and glazed over. What the fuck is going on?

Cat runs for her mother when she sees her coming down the stairs, and Jade's slow in getting there, but she scoops her up, pulling the girl into her chest. "Mommy," she whispers, looking up and taking Jade's face in her hands, "what's going on?"

"I'd love to know," Jade mutters while Tori chirps, "Nothing, sweetie! Your mommy and I just have to go somewhere for a little bit, and you're going to stay with the boys, okay?" Cat protests for a few minutes, but Jade manages to calm her down, glaring at Tori when she tries to help. This was her daughter. She kisses the little girl on the head, whispering, "I'll be back soon, okay baby girl?" It's all she can get out before Tori's pulling her out the door.

"Why was he on the phone with you," Jade asks, after the first few miles have passed, and they're getting pretty close to the hospital.

"He was telling me how stupid it is that you're even remotely jealous of our friendship," Tori explains, keeping her eyes straight ahead, "which is true, Jade. We're friends. You guys are married."

"I don't like you talking about my private conversations with my husband," Jade's words sound stupid coming out of her mouth, and she crosses her arms over her chest. She knows this is petty - she knows that whatever she thinks is going to happen with Beck and Tori is never going to happen. That Beck loves her, and Tori's not that much of a fucking snake, and it's stupid. That all of this is stupid, and she should fucking deal with her paranoia instead of letting it get this bad, but she can't get the sneaking suspicion out of her head. She knows something could happen - she knows it won't, but she knows it could (just like the sky could fall, or it could rain blood, or she could burst into fucking flames - it will never happen, not ever, but that doesn't mean she'll stop fearing it) and that's enough. She presses her lips together and remains silent for the rest of the drive.

When they reach the hospital, Tori sprints ahead while Jade lags behind. "Beck is fine," she says, calling after Tori and rolling her eyes, "Beck is fucking fine." The words sound like lies to her, but she keeps saying them until she catches up with Tori, shaking her head, "He's fine." Tori tries to wrap her arm around Jade's shoulders and pull her inside, but Jade pushes her off, walking into the automatic doors of the emergency room and explaining who she is to the attendant at the front desk. The older woman's face takes on a sad looking expression, and she pages a doctor - that's when Jade's heart starts thumping, blood rushing in her ears. Something has to be wrong if this fucking stranger is this worried. The woman pats her hand, giving her a stiff smile, "It'll be okay, Mrs. Oliver."

She doesn't think she's ever hated that name this much. She rips her hand away, giving the woman a scowl - she's never wanted to rip a person's throat out more than right now. The phone on the woman's desk rings, and she ushers Jade down a hallway, letting Tori stay behind in the waiting room (thank god, because the last fucking thing right now was Tori acting like she was Beck's wife in front of a doctor), fidgeting nervously.

The words don't really hit her until the doctor's been staring at her in silence for two long minutes. "We did everything we could, Mrs. Oliver...the damage was just too severe. He...we were lucky he even made it back here...he should have been dead on impact."

Did. Were. Past tense.

Dead.

She sits there for a long minute, thinking before she looks back up at him. "Do you have his wedding ring," she asks, her voice scratchy and distant. The doctor explains all his personal belongings will be given to her - there's a bag, somewhere, with all his shit in it. "I need his fucking wedding ring. Now." Her tone is rough, now - the doctor is clearly roused into terror, or sympathy, or both, and commands an orderly to figure out where his things are. When the bag is in her hands, she rustles through it, finding his ring and slipping it onto her thumb, ignoring the caked on specks of blood. She needs to get home, right now. She needs to get home, she can't do this here.

She trudges back out into the waiting room, wrenching Tori by the arm and pulling her back outside. "Drive me home," she demands, looking over at the other woman with shining eyes, "now." Tori doesn't ask questions, or speak at all, which Jade is thankful for. When they reach the house, she storms in, ignoring the fact that Cat is calling for her. Her heart breaks all over again when she hears the little girls voice, and she knows if she looks at her, she'll break right there. Those are his kids - those kids are his. He wanted them, and sure, she could deal with them and love them when he was here, but he's gone. He's gone, and she doesn't know if she knows how to love them anymore without him here. She doesn't know if she's ever going to know how to love them again, how to love anyone again, without them here. She reaches their room, flinging open the door and freezing when she sees the little scattered pieces of pictures all over the floor. Little bits of Beck's face, everywhere. Little broken pieces, just like the ones in her fucking chest.

She strips down so she's only wearing his flannel shirt, then crawls into his side of the bed, locking the door and hoping it sticks (it better, because no one here was going to be able to fix it now). She doesn't cry - she simply stares at the wedding band on her thumb and picks at the dried blood on it, chipping it off slowly. It's not til hours later - hours, she knows, because lights have gone on and off outside the door, and she heard Andre carrying both Damien and Cat to their rooms, Cat still in tears - that the door slowly creaks open. A tiny shadow is cast into the room, and Jade clutches Beck's pillow tighter to her chest. She feels the bed shift under the small amount of weight, a body crawl over hers (she can't manage to yell, or growl, or even speak. She simply blinks, watching,) and curl into her side. She presses her face into Cat's hair, taking a shaky deep breath. "I love you, Mommy," the little girl whispers, clutching tight onto her father's shirt, pulling herself as close to Jade as she can.

"I love you, baby girl," she croaks out, letting Cat fall asleep before allowing her body to be overcome with sobs (it's only when she's calmed herself down that she holds tighter onto Cat - because she knows one day her daughter will blame her for this, the way she is right now, and she knows there'll be nothing to deny.)

He's gone, and she pushed him away.