Author's Note: There were two ways this story could go after the end of that last chapter, and though, given my mood, I was tempted to take the angstier one, I decided to go with this one. After all, with the other, we wouldn't have the Pitch Perfect that we all know and love. (If this isn't making any sense, hopefully all will be clear once you read.) Review, please!

To Lackluster Brilliance: I agree. I also think that's why we, as a culture, enjoy drama and soap operas and all that. It's cathartic, as the ancient Greeks would say.

To Ann: You should write your idea. And if you do, I'll read it.


The drop is shorter than I expect, the landing less wet than anticipated. Softer, too. Diving into a body of water at this height should not make a soft landing. I still hear the sounds of traffic around my ears. I know I was wondering about what happened after death, but this is not what I expected. I was not expecting my feet to still hurt. I was not expecting to hear my name being screamed in a voice that sounded like the owner was crying. I was not expecting to open my eyes and see wet ginger hair and big blue Disney eyes...wait, what?

Chloe. Ginger hair and Disney eyes equals Chloe. I see Chloe. If I see Chloe, I am not dead. I am alive. Soft landing equals landing on Chloe's lap, both of us on the dirty New York sidewalk. It takes a minute for me to process all that. That's odd. I usually process things a lot faster. It also takes me a moment to process the fact that Chloe is talking, has been talking.

"Aubrey! Oh my god, Aubrey! Open your eyes, please open your eyes!" Suddenly her eyes meet mine, and I am pulled into one of Chloe's famous hugs, the hugs that make you feel like you've come home. She's sobbing, and suddenly, I'm crying, too. That's odd. I never cry. A Posen never cries. My father told me that when I was little girl, upset because some kids at school were teasing me. Crying equals weakness. Posens aren't weak.

She pulls away, holding me by the shoulders, looking me in the eye. Her eyes hold tears, but there's a fire in there, too. "What the hell were you thinking?" Her words are an echo of Alice's, though not her tone. There was no derision in Chloe's tone. There never is. "You just took ten years off my life, scaring me like that! To think, if I would have just been a second later..." her voice trailed off.

"I would have succeeded. I would have succeeded at something." My guilt is back. I have failed again.

"I would have lost my best friend!" Her words are sad and angry all at the same time.

"You would have found someone better."

"No, Aubrey, I wouldn't have. There is no one better than you."

"Don't lie to me, Chloe."

"I'm not, so don't call me a liar."

"I'm a failure, a disappointment. I fucked up majorly." Her eyes widen at my language. I never swear. "I ruined everything. I let the Bellas down, let my father down, let you down."

"You did not let me down and no one else matters. Actually, it was all I could do not to laugh. Did you see the looks on those faces? You certainly livened things up there."

"Are you making fun of me?" I can't believe it. Chloe, making fun of someone?

Her face softens. "No, I'm not. I'm trying to see the humor in all of this. It's what I do. It's the truth, though. It was funny. It's also true what you said to Alice, about vomiting being a series of involuntary spasms. Involuntary, Bree. Not something you could control. I said as much to Alice, after you left, putting my 'egg breath' right in her face." She winks at me. It feels like a lifetime ago, hearing Alice berate Chloe about her breath always smelling like eggs. Like my life has been split in two pieces- the before performance part and the after performance part. "Then I came after you, and let me tell you, it wasn't easy. You're a racehorse, even in heels."

"How? Why?"

"How did I find you? I don't even know. It was part my keen eyesight, part speed, and mostly pure luck. You're not the only one who does more cardio than necessary, you know." It was true. Sometimes we even worked out together.

"Why?"

"Bree. You're my best friend. I love you. It wasn't fair, what happened with Alice and then with your father. I'm only sorry I didn't say something sooner. I should have. Will you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive."

"Can I ask you a question?" She takes my silence as encouragement to push forward. "Why this?" Her hand waves to indicate the bridge.

I owe her an answer, a true one. "The world would be a better place without me in it."

She hugs me again. "That's not true. And if I have to spend the rest of my life telling you that, I will."

"Why didn't you just let me fall?"

"Oh, Bree, I will never let you fall. I'll stand up with you forever. I'll be there for you through it all, even if saving you sends me to heaven."

"I fucked up." I repeated.

"Okay. We'll fix it. Together." Her arms tighten around me, and I let myself start to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be okay.

"My father..."

"No offense, Bree, but he's an ass. He had no right to talk to you like that."

"I got a C."

"It happens."

"Not to me."

"I hate to break it to you, but you're not superhuman."

"I should be. I could make him proud."

"Your father should be proud of you. You're a beautiful, amazing, accomplished woman. I'm proud of you."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I fucked up." I feel like I'm a broken tape, doomed to repeat myself over and over again, but how is she not getting this?

"It wasn't your fault."

"It might not have been something I could control, but it's still my fault."

"And...killing yourself is supposed to fix things? The Aubrey I know would be on fire. She'd work her ass off fixing things and come out stronger and better in the end. And when we win ICCAs next year, it will be because of you and because of me and not because of Alice or your father. And maybe in that moment, you won't worry about making anyone else proud, because you'll be proud of yourself."

"You really think that will happen?"

"I do. I really, really do. But I can't do it alone. Will you help me?"

"They'll never let us back. Not with me still in the group. Too great a risk. Nobody would buy tickets in fear of me vomiting all over them. I'd help you more by quitting the Bellas."

"No, you won't. You know me, I'm everywhere, go with the flow, all that. You're the organized one, the one with plans. It would be all fun and games with me, and the Bellas wouldn't see Regionals. No. We need you. And we'll just have to be so good that won't have any other choice but to invite us back."

"We could use the same set. If we got back here with the same set, it would be almost like I didn't wreck us in the first place, right?"

"That's a possibility. Or we could try something different and they'd never think we were the same group of people. There's lots of possibilities. Giving up is not one of them."

"Alright."

"Really."

"Yes. You're right. I can fix this. I can fix my grades. And I can fix the Bellas. I can fix my mistakes."

"You're almost right."

"Almost?"

"You said I. But you're not alone. We can fix this. I'll be with you every step of the way. We'll do it together."

"I fucked up. I have to be the one to fix this."

"No, you don't. The weight of world is not on your shoulders, Aubrey Posen. The purpose of friends is to share that weight. I'm your friend."

"Look, Chloe, I appreciate everything you've done and are trying to do for me, but you don't have to. I don't want to drag you down."

"You won't get rid of me that easy. I'm in this for the long haul. Say what you want; I'm not going anywhere."

Could it be true? Can I believe her? Dare I risk trusting what she says and then getting let down later? But wait. This is Chloe. I have never known her to be anything less than sincere. "Promise?" I ask. I sound like a five-year old child.

"I promise." She smiles warmly. "But neither of us are going be good for much if we don't get off this wet, dirty pavement and into clean, dry clothes. And new shoes. Comfortable shoes."

"You're right. I'm sorry." I get to my feet.

"Don't be sorry; help me up." I offer her a hand, and she uses it. And then she doesn't let go of my hand. Most people would, but not Chloe Beale. "Do you know where we are? Cause I sure don't."

"No."

"I think Lincoln Center is thataway. I wish I brought my purse. It's going to be a hell of a walk back, and you don't even have shoes."

I think of the fifty dollar bill pinned inside the waistband of my skirt. "Why don't we take a cab?"

"Didn't you hear me? No purse. That means no money."

I withdraw my hand from her's, and carefully undo the safety pin holding the bill in place. "This should cover the cab fare, don't you agree?"

She practically jumps into my arms, hugging me. "Bree! I love you! You're always prepared!"

"I try to be." Aubrey Posen is always prepared, and I'm beginning to feel like I could be that Aubrey again.

Chloe wastes no time flagging down a cab, and though the cabbie gives us a funny look (we must look like a mess, soaking wet in these uniforms), he accepts our fare. Chloe gives him the name of our hotel, and we settle in the back seat.

During the short ride, Chloe holds my hand, never letting go, not even when we get to the hotel.


Author's note 2: Hope you guys liked it! I stuck some lyrics from a song in here. If you can identify it, leave me a review telling me what song and I'll bake you virtual cookies! (You'll also know one of the songs I was listening to while writing this. It was this song and 'The Other Side' by New Heights, which if you haven't heard yet, you should go search it on youtube. It's also used in the video "Fireflies" which is also awesome.)