A/N - This fic has been a collaborate effort by laraaelric, melissa7187, and pdt-b. We're calling it a "round robin" story (as in, we each took turns writing segments that have now been merged together to create a cohesive story, rather than a series of 'read mores' on Tumblr). This is an AU-esc story that deals with the 'what if' of Chloe's nodes operation causing her to lose her voice. We hope you enjoy!
Life without a voice wasn't the end of the world. But it certainly was an entirely new world of experiences. At times miserable. At times amusing. And always…different.
Different - was pointing to a menu and ordering the turkey sandwich, then realizing she had to be fast to catch the waiter before he left to make sure he left off the mayonnaise. Followed by the embarrassment of having to send it back because he misunderstood and left the pickles off instead.
She'd eat it anyway, except that she was allergic.
Different - was answering the phone on reflex every time it rang. Followed by an awkward silence as the person chattering away on the other end realized she wouldn't be chattering back.
She always sent a text afterward, but there was only so many times 'sorry' would cut it.
Different - was watching from the sidelines as the Bellas practices went on without her, her solos divided reluctantly between the rest of the girls. Followed by sympathetic looks as they all filed out of the room, Aubrey always the last to go, hesitating yet leaving as she just shook her head.
She always ran through the choreography once they were gone, just to make sure she hadn't forgotten it.
Whereas before her hands and its constant energy waved in conjunction with her voice, nowadays, they were often found clutching a pen and notepad for those "just in case times" when pointing at something wasn't enough, and facial expressions needed deciphering. The insult of "talking merely to hear your own voice" was something she'd have given up many things for. The silence was deafening as it seemed everyone didn't know how to talk to her anymore. As if her vocal silence also required theirs. And it didn't. Not at all. Yet, who could she tell without them offering their sorrow and pity all in a glance? So it remained this way, a dwindling of time and interactions with others.
She noticed more things now. Concentrating on listening to the voices of others, she noticed the ebb and rise of the different Bellas as they ran through the set, but more importantly, she noticed the gaps in between. Among the roar that sometimes she could only hear between her ears, she wondered at why Lily was constantly beat-boxing at such a low volume when she realized that other than Fat Amy who had claimed that she had the best hearing in Australia, for someone with ears, she was the only one who had actually focused her attention on Lily. Everyone else was too busy trying to match footsteps and hand gestures to each song to think about watching the others.
She could remember how it had all happened. The who's and the what's and the where's of the operation and waking up to a completely different life. But she could never wrap her head around the why. Why her? Why did it happen just before they were accepted back into finals? To something that had utterly defined who she was and left her dumbstruck and lost in the aftermath. And for as much as she pondered it, she could never, ever find the answer that stopped the aching in her chest.
She could close her eyes and try to wish it away, but she was far too intelligent to consider the ideas from her youth. There were no stars in the sky to wish on or prayers she could whisper that would change the fate that was handed to her. And so began the long process of simply getting used to it all. To adjusting. To growing. To saying goodbye to the way things were and starting over again.
To graduating.
Most nights, she couldn't even remember what her voice sounded like. The tone or the pitch or the way that words had slid off of her tongue and out from behind her teeth. The quivering before a sob or the crack when she hit that note that was just not for her. The way that a word could change everything. How it could make someone hate you or fall in love with you. How it had made Aubrey her own.
And as much as she wished, that girl was here to say. Those arms wouldn't push her away and were instead content to just hold her a little tighter and tell her that it was okay. Kissing the top of her head and rubbing circles into her back. Whispering "I love you" and knowing that it would never be returned again.
Some days she felt the silence suffocating her. She had never imagined that hearing her own thoughts would be so frightening when it was really the only time she heard a voice speaking directly to herself. Every time she opened her mouth to say something, she clamped it shut with a sharp click of teeth meeting each other and the pursed lip look that seemed to be her default expression these days.
Her head was filled with thoughts these days, thoughts and worries that she could not and would not ever tell Aubrey. The blonde was already worried enough and actually giving voice (oh sweet irony that) to the probable permanent loss of her voice would just solidify a future that was filled with more dread than was imaginable.
It was if the loss of her voice had rendered her diminished and people did not how to deal with the loss. Oftentimes they would speak louder and slower, as if her hearing and comprehension had been cut away with those damnable nodes. If it were not the fact that her classes had a participation requirement, she would have opted to sit at the back and watch the class on action. Sitting closer was no longer an option when each time her professors looked to her for an answer, the disappointment was palpable and maddening. She had opinions and instead, she would swallow them and jot them down so she could post them onto the e-board that formed the other part of the classroom.
It wasn't all bad, at least. When she was feeling particularly down, she took comfort in thinking about some of the new things that had developed from a lack of voice, things that would never have come to be with it (and while none of these things were enough to make her glad for her loss, they were enough to get her through the day).
They were little things, mostly.
There were the movie nights with the Bellas that took the place of loud drunken games of truth or dare, a tradition that had spanned a season but willingly been abandoned for a "quieter" activity. It was almost a nice turn of events, being able to truly appreciate a movie because there was no way to gossip through it.
There was the rhythm game that sometimes erupted during rehearsals, where one Bella - usually Amy or Cynthia Rose - would start clapping or stomping along to the music. All of the Bellas enthusiastically learned to jump in - even Aubrey, who had at first been against the "interruption" but had quickly changed her mind when she saw Amy wildly gesturing for Chloe to join in. It was really nice, she had to admit, being able to still feel included in practices even if it wasn't actually part of the performance.
The best, though, was the "code" she and Aubrey developed that brought back memories of childhood adventures, where she and her best friend had become secret agents and created an elaborate series of hand gestures that served as their only means of communication for a week straight. She had brought the game back accidentally during a "conversation" with the blonde. To keep up an air of normalcy, Aubrey always made a point to include Chloe in conversations through the use of 'yes or no' responses. (Admittedly, she slipped up from time to time. Those times were the worst - seeing the look on Aubrey's face, the bright look draining away for an instant before she always schooled herself back into neutrality, after asking Chloe a question that required more than a shake of the head. But the moment would pass, with Aubrey picking her commentary back up where she left off and Chloe pretending she didn't notice the mistake.)
It was during one such mistake that the code developed. Aubrey had called a question from the other room. Rather than waiting in silence until the blonde stopped what she was doing to come repeat her words, Chloe had knocked hard against the table. The sound had been met at first with confusion as Aubrey came into the room, a puzzled frown in place. She had ended up repeating the question anyway, and Chloe had repeated her response, eyeing Aubrey to make sure her meaning had been made clear.
The code had developed from there, starting with the basics. They had made an afternoon out of it, experimenting with a variety of knocks and silly gestures that would enable them to hold conversations past 'yeses' and 'nos'. How she had loved helping Aubrey puzzle out what sounds hadn't been used yet to broaden their new "vocabulary". Loved hearing Aubrey laugh at the insistent knocks when discussing something ridiculous. Loved watching Aubrey's frustrated pacing as she argued with a repetition of sounds as easily as if they were words.
It had been nice. It had all been nice.
But more importantly, it had almost felt normal.