A/N: Hey guys, this is my first fic, so I would love to know what you think. I plan on making this story very long-ish, so bear with me. It will not be find-your-soulmate-be-instantly-happy sort of thing.

Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, I don't own pitch perfect, so you can't sue. HUH!

This is for sunnywinterclouds for being an amazing Beta! Thanks, mate.

Bloop.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

Bloop

7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12.

Bloop

13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18.

A drop every six seconds. That's ten drops per minute. That's fourteen thousand and four hundred drops per day. That's approximately 6000 litres of water wasted yearly. All because a human, somewhere, had decided to not take the time to make sure the tap was shut off properly.. And that's just one tap in one house. If we consider an entire town, or even a neighbourhood, well, I'm sure you can do the Math. The human race is fucked. Beca thought.

Creak.

"God dammit Billy! What the fuck is going on here? The house is a mess."

"Well, hello to you too darling."

"You fucking drunk bastard. You just sit there on my sofa in my house all day doing shit."

"Your house? That's my house. It's my fuckin' money."

"What money is that? You don't even have a job."

"Yeah, well, they sure do pay you enough money to take care of your little brat."

"It's not nearly enough. Not when you keep wasting it on beer."

"I don't see the point of keeping her then. We take her in. We feed her. We let her go to school. And she's nothing but a know-it-all pain in the ass. I say we get rid of her."

Beca lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her fingers idly fiddled with the necklace around her neck, holding the pendant between her thumb and forefinger. The heated argument was just background noise to her by this point. Her mind didn't register their harsh words anymore; she'd heard them far too many times before anyway. Besides, she had other sounds to focus on: the sound of the water drops as they collided head first with the solid surface of the sink and were, consequently, scattered in different directions; the creaking sounds of the doors as they were swung back and forth even with the gentlest breeze of air; and the slight whooshing sounds of a poorly treated TV. Yeah, Beca had other sounds to focus on alright.

A ray of sunshine slowly crept into the otherwise dimly lit room of hers through the otherwise impregnable window glass that was covered in a mixture of dirt, grease and slime.

Have you ever looked at a ray of sunshine? And I mean really looked at it. It pierces the stillness of the air in a long, determined and straight beam of light. It uncovers the secret party the very specks of the heavens are having until you can see them delicately gliding, floating, and performing intricate patterns in an eternal dance that we have always been oblivious to.

Beca didn't want to disrupt them and opted for just watching. Still twirling her necklace, she inched closer, and closer, to get a better look at the constant stream of particles, performing their well-practiced dance in their secret ball. To an outsider, it may have seemed that Beca was staring into nothingness. In fact, anyone who would have seen the sixteen year old laying on her side, tilting her neck slightly to get a better look at a ray of sunshine, would have thought that she'd gone mad. Not that Beca really cared what anyone would think. You see, Beca was one of those people who was blessed enough to truly say that they didn't give a damn.

It wasn't always like that, though.

Beca reckoned there must have been a time when the world had meant anything to her, when she had cared about people. When people cared about me. Beca thought that, yes, there must have been a time when she had believed in fairy tales, when the lines separating dreams and reality had been blurred enough that she couldn't tell the difference. Alas, it must have been too long ago, because Beca had no memories of those times.

She knew better now. She knew that the world would happily turn its back on a 3 year old that'd lost her parents. She knew that the world couldn't care less about a 7 year old being tossed around from one foster family to the other. She knew the world didn't notice the lingered gazes a 10 year old threw at every happy family she saw. She knew the world would never dry the tears that a 12 year old shed every night for not being wanted. Oh yes, Beca knew better now. Beca definitely knew better now.

She didn't know how much time had passed, but a bright light caught her eyes and she looked down to see that the sneaky ray of sunshine had managed to find her necklace, causing the piece of metal to blink and shine. She brought the pendant up slightly to get a better look at it. It was a simple, dark, waning crescent. Beca softly traced it, running her fingers around the edges and back to the front. She idly thought back to all those times she'd executed those exact same actions. The necklace had been given to Beca at birth, and just like everyone else, she'd always worn it. It wasn't like she could take it off anyway. You see, Beca's (and everyone else's) necklace was very special.

Beca sighed. She'd heard that story a million times before, the one that took place when the earth was still flat. People looked like freakish barrels; they had two pairs of hands, two pairs of legs, and two heads. One (or two, if you think in the autonomic terms of the present day) person defied the Gods. The Gods were pussies and decided to rip all people in halves out of fear. People ran around like headless chickens, and died of heartache. The Gods grew merciful and gave us necklaces that glow whenever they near our other half's necklaces, and then the two necklaces merge into one. Blah Blah Blah.

Beca had often thought about this story. Even she, the perpetual pessimist, had always found the notion of finding her other half fascinating. At first, she used to think that all her problems would magically disappear once she met her. (Yes, Beca knows it must be a her. Because dudes are, as Beca so gracefully puts it, yuck!) Beca thought that by finding Ms. X, she would finally find a friend, a love, a family, and a home. But again, Beca knew better now. She knew the chances of finding your other half were slim to none; she didn't even know anyone who had. And besides, even if I do find her now, I'm too ruined for her to fix. So, Beca stopped looking. In fact, one could even go as far as to say that Beca not only stopped looking, but also actively stayed away from all the paths that could ever lead to Ms. X.

Beca's stomach gave a loud grumble and as she glanced towards the clock, she noticed it was almost 6. With a shrug, she realized she had been ruminating on her existence for long enough. She slowly got up, stretching her sore muscles as she did so. She took a deep breath and let it out evenly in an attempt to calm herself down before opening the door to her bedroom. With a sigh of relief, Beca realized that no one was home. She headed to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and decided that a sandwich was by far her safest option, because she wasn't quite sure the food in the fridge was even edible anymore. And as she head back to her room, grabbed her laptop, pulled her ridiculously over-sized headphones over her ears, opened up a song-mixing software, pressed a few buttons expertly, and shut the world out, Beca thought that yes, she really didn't want to find Ms. X.

So what do you think? R&R, please?

Also, I'm on tumblr: physicistsserialshipping. tumblr. com