Our Hands Tightly Holding

by Jack E. Peace

Now that Aubrey is actually sitting on that bus station bench, the idea of running away and starting over is not appealing. It's terrifying and she feels like everyone who looks at her can see the stigmata of disappointment. Surely there's a brand she wears that lets everyone know how, at twenty, she's been kicked out of the house for being so pathetically disappointing.

Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately. Title comes from the song "On the Bus Mall" by the Decemberists.

A/N: So apparently even listening to music makes me want to write Aubrey and Chloe stories. I'm not even going to pretend like I'm sorry this time. I'm too addicted to this pairing. Enjoy!

"We Huddled Close in the Bus Stop Enclosure Enfolding. Our Hands Tightly Holding"

Aubrey Posen used to dream about running away. This was a common theme among children, she assumes, because children have no concept of the world beyond their homes or families, so it's easy to assume that there's nothing but wonderful things waiting outside their front doors. But there are some children, she also assumes, who wanted to run away because that unknown was undoubtedly better than home. Aubrey used to entertain these fantasies before she grew to understand that everything her parents did or said to her was out of love and the overwhelming desire to make her the best person that she could be. Before she came to realize that her father's seemingly cruel words were meant to toughen her up, she used to lay awake at night and plan out her escape. She had a suitcase that she would mentally pack with the things that she needed and she imagined stealing away in the middle of the night when the rest of the house was asleep. She would skip the third stair from the bottom because it creaked and would hold her breath until she was outside and the door had closed silently behind her. Aubrey knew how to get to the bus station because it was on the way to her school and when they drove by it every morning, she would stare out the window at the people coming and going and imagine herself sitting on one of the benches outside, waiting for a bus to show up and take her somewhere else. Somewhere where she could find parents who loved her; somewhere where she would have the chance to become a daughter that didn't disappoint.

Now that Aubrey is actually sitting on that bus station bench, the idea of running away and starting over is not appealing. It is not promising. It is terrifying and she feels like everyone who looks at her can see the stigmata of disappointment. Surely there's a brand she wears that lets everyone know how, at twenty, she's been kicked out of the house for being so pathetically disappointing.

Aubrey's single suitcase sits next to her on the bench. The rest of her things are still in her bedroom back home; she hadn't had the chance to unpack them after leaving Barden for the summer. Hopefully those things will be shipped back to Barden before the start of fall semester; Aubrey has no where to put them until they're allowed to go back to the dorms. She has nowhere to put herself.

A bus comes and goes. Passengers get off, collect their suitcases and either meet friends or family or call a taxi. New passengers hand over their tickets and take their seats. Aubrey stays on her bench, the smell of exhaust and diesel tickling her nose. The summer air is hot and humid and she can hear the sound of crickets and the city all around her. The hour is growing later but the bus station is still buzzing with activity and the city sounds awake all around her. But Aubrey still feels alone.

Aubrey can feel the eyes of the woman behind the ticket counter staring a hole in the back of her head but she doesn't turn around. She's probably not the first person to come and hang around a bus station for hours but she's probably the first to not look homeless. Even though that's exactly what she is.

Even though she tries to block the past several hours out of her mind, Aubrey can't keep her father's words at bay. She can still remember the knot of disappointment and trepidation that had settled in her chest ever since the…unfortunate incident at the Lincoln Center. She couldn't shake it, even days later and it only got worse the closer she got to having to go home. Not even Chloe could make her feel better.

"It's not your fault." Chloe assures her, stroking Aubrey's hair as they lay side by side on the blonde's twin bed. The space is cramped but they've had plenty of time to find a comfortable way to fit themselves together to make the best use of the space. "You have to stop blaming yourself."

Aubrey's head rests against Chloe's chest and she can hear her friend's heart beating against her ear. Slow, steady, comforting. Like Chloe herself. "How is it not my fault?" She questions. "It is my fault. I don't need you to lie to me."

"But it's over." Chloe points out. "You can't just keep beating yourself up over it. It's not going to do any good. You can't change what happened so that's it. Next year, we'll try again. We'll go back to Lincoln Center and be even better than before and we'll win. But you can't keep doing this to yourself, Aubrey. It's not good for you."

Aubrey sighs but offers no thoughts on the subject. She knows that Chloe has a point. She can sit around and blame herself over and over again for the Bellas losing at the ICCA finals but it's not going to change what happened. But that doesn't mean she can just shut off her brain and move on. Aubrey Posen might not be good at much, but if there's one thing she excels in, it's rehashing her mistakes.

"My father is going to be so disappointed." Aubrey mumbles. "Worse. He's going to be ashamed of me."

"Your dad sucks." Chloe says, not for the first time. "Just don't listen to him 'Bree."

Aubrey closes her eyes and continues to listen to the sound of Chloe's heartbeat and let her friend try and talk her into feeling better about the whole situation. It's not helping but she doesn't mind letting Chloe try. Her advice is one of those easier said than done situations, seeing as you don't just ignore Marc Posen.

The ICCA championships had been the weekend before finals. She'd still had to drag herself out of her dorm to attend her classes so that she didn't end up failing after all the effort she'd put in throughout the semester. She'd had to contend with the looks of her fellow students; people who had never noticed her before were suddenly paying rapt attention to her as she walked past. Even if most of Barden had never heard of Aubrey Posen or acapella, they definitely knew at least one of those names now. The video of her embarrassing performance at the Lincoln Center had over two million hits on Youtube and was becoming more popular by the day.

Aubrey had never been the type to surround herself with friends or spend too much time trying to ensure that her classmates liked her. Like most college students, she had her close friends and her chosen activities and was cordial to the rest of the people in her classes and didn't think much about them until the next class rolled around. But now her fellow students were giving her a wide berth and Aubrey heard several "whispered" comments about her blowing under pressure. Aubrey tuned them out as she took her finals and left, returning to the safety of the dorm room she shared with Chloe. Unfortunately even the dorm didn't feel like home anymore; most of their possessions were already packed up and ready to be moved back home for the next several months. She and Chloe were planning on getting an apartment in the city instead of rooming together on campus; Aubrey was relieved mainly because she hoped that meant she wasn't going to have to pack and unpack her stuff yet again. Hopefully she and Chloe would remain roommates for the next several years.

If being the one of two remaining Bellas on campus and being known as Aubrey Posen's best friend bothered Chloe she definitely didn't show it. She was as chipper and sunny as always. She even convinced Aubrey to attend the end of the year party being held in one of the dorms down the hall from theirs. "Who cares what people are saying?" Chloe had questioned, picking out clothes for Aubrey to wear like she hadn't been digging her heels about going. "We're going to be seniors next year, you aced your finals, I passed my classes. We deserve to celebrate."

So they'd gone to the party and twenty minutes after walking through the door Aubrey had noticed a group of sorority girls and frat guys pointing in her direction and laughing. Aubrey had turned away when they'd started making puking noises; she hoped they didn't notice how her cheeks had reddened.

Chloe marched right up to them and threw her drink into the face of the guy who'd been making the noises to entertain his friends. She threw her empty plastic cup at him and he'd been too surprised to do anything as it bounced off his chest. Chloe had held Aubrey's hand tightly as they'd marched right out the door. Aubrey had known in that moment (and, if she's being completely honest, she's known for a long time before then) that she'd never be able to put into words how much she loved Chloe and how grateful she was to have her as a friend.

The following morning, Aubrey had awoken to a curt text message from her father informing her that her brother was going to be by to pick her up that afternoon. No explanation as to why he couldn't be there and he didn't bother to ask her about her grades, which was a first. Aubrey had known even before talking to her brother that things were not going to be good for her at home.

"Someone at the firm showed him the video." Brad explained as he helped her load her things into the trunk. "Sure you still want to come home?"

Aubrey had nodded, even though she felt like she was going to be sick. Again. This wasn't the first time that her father had yelled at her, she could take it.

As soon as Marc Posen arrives home from work, Aubrey closes the novel she's been reading and takes a deep breath, fortifying herself. She heads downstairs, figuring there's no point in avoiding the confrontation. If anything, her father will be even more upset if he has to seek her out.

Marc is at the cabinet bar in his office, making himself a whiskey sour. He doesn't look over at her when she walks in. Aubrey swallows and stands by the door, her hands clasped in front of her, posture ramrod straight. Her father likes his children to carry themselves with military precision.

"Have I been a good father to you, Aubrey?" Marc finally questions, though he is still not looking at her.

Aubrey answers before her brain can start working. "Yes, sir."

"I've given you opportunities that most girls your age can't even dream about. A private education, finishing school, a summer internship at the law firm." Marc finally turns around. "I provided your brother these opportunities as well."

Aubrey nods. "I'm very grateful, sir."

Marc's brow knits. "Are you? Then why is it that your brother had acceptance letters from three Ivy League colleges and you ended up at Barden? Why is it that he is in law school and you are going to have to convince a place to accept you and your state school degree in political science? Even after everything I gave you, not a single Ivy League letter showed up with your name on it."

Aubrey doesn't fidget or say anything. This is not the first time she has heard something like this from her father. Even three years later, he still counts her inability to get into Harvard or Yale or Brown or wherever as one of the major strikes against her.

"In all this time, I can't help but think that I have do something to upset you." Marc says thoughtfully. "That for some reason you have decided to do nothing but embarrass me. Is that true?"

Quickly, Aubrey shakes her head. "No, sir. Of course not!" She is careful not to raise her voice, because a lady does not shout. This is a rule from her mother, but it suits her father just fine too. "I would never want to embarrass you, sir."

Marc shakes his head and sets his glass on the edge of his desk. "How do you think I felt when I found out that my daughter had joined some sort of musical group? How do you think it felt to learn that you were spending your time singing and dancing instead of studying? It definitely became clear to me why you weren't on the Ivy League track." He assures her. "How do you think I felt?"

Aubrey drops her gaze, swallowing. She loves the Bellas, she does. Bellas practice and competitions are one of her favorite things about going to Barden. Every time she has to make it seem otherwise, the words stick in her throat. "Embarrassed, sir."

"Do you like embarrassing me?" Aubrey shakes her head. "Then how do you think I felt when one of my colleagues shows me a video of my daughter embarrassing herself on the Internet? Vomiting in public while at one of those ridiculous singing competitions. My partners all seemed to find it quite hilarious. Can you imagine how I found it?"

"Embarrassing." Aubrey says softly. At least this is something they can finally agree on.

Marc nods. "Yes. Humiliating. Disappointing. I thought that you had run out of ways to disappoint me, Aubrey. Clearly I was wrong. I have never been more ashamed of someone in my life. The fact that you carry the Posen name is a disgrace. Look at me Aubrey." He snaps and Aubrey quickly lifts her head, locking eyes with him. "I have afforded you every opportunity in life and you have done nothing but throw my kindness back in my face."

"That was not my intention, sir." Aubrey assures him.

"Intentions are worthless. It is actions that matter. How many times have I told you that?" Marc questions. Aubrey doesn't bother to answer, because it is one of his favorite platitudes. "Your actions have spoken volumes." He sighs and shakes his head, picking up his glass and taking a long swallow. "Pack your bags."

Aubrey stares at him, uncomprehending. "Sir?"

Sighing, Marc shakes his head. "You heard me. Pack your bags. Get out of this house. I'll have Gloria pack up the rest of your things and send them to Barden in a few weeks. You don't need them here anymore."

It takes Aubrey a minute to fully process what he's saying. "Where will I go?" Her voice is meek, even to her own ears. Her father will not like that.

Indeed, Marc gives her a disappointed look. "Now you want my help?" He scoffs. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

And so, with little choice, Aubrey finds herself at the Greyhound station in the city, sitting on a bench with her suitcase next to her and her phone on her lap. It's not like she expects her father or another family member to call her up and tell her that it was all a mistake and that she can come home again. That will never happen. Even if her mother doesn't agree with Marc's decree, she'll never question it. Though, knowing her mother, she probably backs her husband one hundred percent.

Aubrey is waiting on Chloe to call her back. A part of her regrets the call she'd made to her friend two hours ago in desperation; she had been on the verge of tears and hadn't done a very good job of hiding that fact when she'd called Chloe and left a voicemail begging her friend to call her back. She feels guilty for calling because she knows that it's Chloe's older sister's birthday and that the family was planning to go out to celebrate Justine's birthday and Chloe's return from Barden. It's what has kept her from calling her friend again, choosing instead to just continue to sit on the bench and plan out her next step. She has money saved from working summers at the country club, so getting a bus ticket or hotel room are definitely options. But if she bought a bus ticket, where would she go? And she can't stay in a hotel for three months. So Aubrey just sits and waits, watching people pass her by.

Few people even bother to give her a second look as they grab their suitcases and tickets and herd their children on and off buses. That's just fine with Aubrey. She doesn't have to be the girl who threw up all over the third row at the ICCA championships and cost her entire group that coveted first place trophy. She doesn't have to be the girl who was thrown out of her house for being nothing but a disgrace. She can be a girl going anywhere, doing anything.

And maybe that is what she should do. She can buy a ticket to the farthest city on the board and leave Atlanta behind. She can start over, reinvent herself. Who would miss her?

Her phone starts buzzing and Chloe's picture flashes on the Caller ID. Aubrey can't help but smile just the tiniest bit. Okay, she gets the hint.

"Aubrey, I'm so sorry I missed your call." Chloe says as soon as Aubrey starts to answer. "What's going on? Are you okay? Where are you?"

Aubrey's plan of keeping it cool and assuring her friend that there's nothing wrong, she's fine really, don't worry quickly flies out the window. "Chlo…my dad found out…he…" She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. "I'm at the bus station."

"The bus station?" Chloe repeats incredulously. "Okay, I'll come get you."

"What about your sister's birthday?" Aubrey questions. "You should-"

Chloe interrupts before she can formulate a sentence. "Don't be ridiculous. We've already had dinner and Justine can wait. I'll be there as soon as I can. Just wait there."

"Okay." Aubrey says before there's really no point in arguing. Besides, if Chloe doesn't come get her, then who will? "And Chloe," she says before the redhead can hang up, "thank you."

Even though Aubrey knows that Chloe is doing her best to reach the bas station as quickly as possible, it still takes her nearly two hours to make the drive from her hometown to the city. Aubrey has stayed on her bench the entire time, staring out at the world outside the station. It has started raining and the water is coming down in sheets, making everything smell fresh instead of like grim and fumes. Aubrey has been doing her best not to think about her father's words or the Bellas or what's going to happen to her now that she's been thrown out. Because Marc is not the type of person who goes back on his word; it is unlikely that she'll ever be allowed back in the Posen household again. Thinking about those things only makes Aubrey more upset and she's powerless to do anything to change her situation. She refuses to cry; she hasn't yet and it's a worthless emotion. What are her tears going to change?

When Chloe finally arrives, glancing around the Greyhound station for her friend, it is the sight of her that finally brings Aubrey to tears. Chloe hurries over to where the blonde sits and puts her arms around her, holding her against her chest. "Shh, Bree, you're okay." She sooths, resting her cheek on the top of Aubrey's head. "It's going to be okay."

Aubrey shakes her head as she cries. "No." She sniffs, trying to stop her tears, but it's more difficult than it sounds. "I don't know what to do."

Chloe takes her hand and laces their fingers together and Aubrey squeezes her hand tightly. "We'll figure it out." She assures her friend. "Together. Okay?"

They stay on the bench for a few minutes more, before Aubrey can finally reign in her tears and sit up straight. They stand up and with her free hand, Aubrey grabs her suitcase pulling it behind her as they walk out of the bus station hand-in-hand.