Author's Note:

I was actually going to wait to post this next week but I thought everyone could use a pick me up. I could, at least. Sorry for the delays and the lack of the funny. Sorry for the delays and the lack of the funny. I feel like this is the moment to point out I have arcs planned an emotional payoff? As always, feedback would be swell.


Chapter 3

Out of all the roommates she'd had in her four years at Barden, Chloe considered Aubrey to be the most reliable. She delivered the rent early, always made sure there was milk in the fridge, and came back home with just the right cheap takeout every Thursday when neither of them could muster up the effort to cook. Aubrey kept a schedule with regularity that put Japanese train services to shame. Once, Chloe had even set her watch to Aubrey's return home (exactly six thirty pm on Tuesdays after a prolonged Philosophy class on the other side of campus). Aubrey and reliable went hand in hand.

So, it may have sounded ridiculous to anyone else, but Chloe was getting concerned. At first, Aubrey had been twenty minutes late to their usual Thursday dinner date. That was fine. Chloe had hardly noticed, buried in a pile of homework she'd put off for too long. Then twenty minutes became forty minutes and Chloe was reminded by a pang of hunger that it was about time for dinner. Then forty minutes became and hour and she started wondering where Aubrey was. Then an hour turned into an hour and a half. Aubrey didn't reply to an of her texts, didn't pick up her phone, didn't seem to be anywhere in sight and Chloe—

Chloe felt unsettled. Calling in for some pizza would be simple but figuring out where the hell Aubrey was seemed like the more pressing matter. But there was also that gnawing hunger in her stomach...

Thankfully, before any assessments on Chloe's questionable judgment could be made, she heard the familiar clatter of keys in the door. The jangling was much more awkward than usual, lasting a lot longer too, and for a bit Chloe's heart leapt up into her throat at the thought of a madman swiping Aubrey's keys and breaking into the house. The worry was quickly relieved, however, when the door creaked open and Aubrey walked through, toting several heavy-looking plastic bags that smelt distinctly of greasy Chinese food.

That was point two in a list of causes to worry. In addition to the stress vomiting, Aubrey had something of a stress-eating habit. (Actually, the majority of Aubrey's habits were related to stress: the cleaning, the pacing, the default to overtly formal language and an emotional shutdown to a courteous, oddly Stepford persona.) In any case, the sheer volume of food as well as the clogged arteries Chloe could already feel coming (Aubrey usually liked to go for the Chinese two blocks from where she picked up her dry-cleaning since they took it a little easier on the oil but, when in a mood, went to the other one opposite the coffee shop that drowned their food in every tasty unmentionable) were indicators of a problem.

"You and Beca get along," Aubrey said casually, before even mentioning how terrible her day was or why Chloe had harangued her phone with a dozen missed calls and texts. She was at once suspicious.

This brought her to point three: Aubrey was being terribly nonchalant. Aubrey did not wear nonchalance well. Not in the slightest. All the points together were major cause for concern.

"So," Aubrey continued, unpacking the food onto plates. She abhorred eating out of the packages like 'common heathens' she had once said, almost painfully un-ironic. "Could you ask after me?"

"'Ask after you'?" Chloe said. "Did you just step out of Victorian novel?"

"I may have been researching the subject," Aubrey said. Chloe pledged to hide all her books the next time she was alone in the house. Jane Austen tended to make Aubrey a little weepy.

"Shouldn't you just ask her yourself?" Chloe said. Sometimes, pointing out the obvious to Aubrey was useful. She had a tendency to miss the forest for the trees.

"For serious, Chloe, even I know that crosses a line," Aubrey protested. "I can't just interrogate her about our date. That sends off the wrong impression."

"So you want me to interrogate her?"

"I'm not asking for a full survey with questions answered on a scale of one to ten," Aubrey said. "I just want some qualitative data. Like, an interview. Only, I know recording your conversation would be both a breach of trust and intimacy, so you can just have a conversation and then tell me all about it."

"And that's not crossing the line?" Chloe said.

"You are my best friend," Aubrey said, gravely. She looked Chloe straight in the eye with that level stare that was incapable of taking 'no' for an answer. Chloe felt like she was looking into the eyes of someone on death row. "Help me. Please."

"Fine," Chloe relented. "But only because I was going to hang out with Beca anyway."


Chloe should have been happy. While Aubrey had rejected Beca, rather furiously, at the activities fair, Chloe was convinced the brunette would be a welcome addition to the Bellas. Now Beca was on the Bellas, she was becoming good friends with Beca, and Beca and Aubrey were actually sort of getting along.

It was a minor miracle making any mutual friends with Aubrey. Third parties commented they were like chalk and cheese and, sans the world of a cappella, they ran in very different circles.

Beca was special. When they sang in the shower, they'd connected on some intangible level beyond the harmonization of their voices and the excellent acoustics of the shower. To be cliché, there was something there between them she couldn't quite put her finger on…

By all counts, Chloe should have been ecstatic.

And yet she wasn't.

She had the inkling feeling her discontent was caused by Aubrey's early wake-up call. Accidental, she said, and maybe it had been: Aubrey was pacing up and down the room, dusting the shelves and sweeping under the bed even though it wasn't Tuesday. Aubrey's nervous ruckus woke her up, anyway, earlier than Chloe would have liked. (At least Aubrey had made breakfast as part of a last-ditch appeasement policy when Chloe had left the shower with a tad more grumble than usual.)

Whatever the cause of her less than sparkling mood, it shouldn't have been anything some good lunch and a milkshake couldn't cure. (Despite her breakfast peace offering, Aubrey had refused to allow Chloe to drown her pancakes in syrup where 'a drizzle' would have sufficed.)

Still, food always made things better. (Food and music were, incidentally, the two things that had kickstarted Aubrey and Chloe's friendship in the first place.)

Chloe settled into her booth. The place she'd chosen for their lunch date was an old family-run diner. Chloe had been there so many times the waiting staff knew her by name. She liked going there mostly because it was one of the only places Aubrey would be caught dead eating fries (double-fried for extra crispness because, even in the case of clogging up your arteries, Aubrey Posen believed in going big or going home).

She tapped her fingers idly on the table, flicking through the menu even though she knew what she wanted. It'd be fun to see what Beca picked. Maybe something chocolate-y for a milkshake (they were the best, Chloe would make her order one) and then maple-glazed burgers? Or maybe she'd look at the specials. Hmm. What kind of a potato girl was Beca? Mashed or fried? All the possibilities…

"Sorry I'm late," Beca said, clambering in. She heaved a heavy looking messenger bag over her shoulder and onto the seat next to her before sitting down opposite Chloe. "I couldn't find the place. I googled the place and it said it was on Peachtree Avenue, I think, but it turned out I got the wrong Peachtree insert street name here."

"Oh, we live in Atlanta," Chloe said, giggling. "All the streets are Peachtree something."

"Why'd you pick somewhere off-campus anyway?" Beca said.

"I promised myself I'd eat all the good food in Atlanta before I graduated," Chloe said. "This is one of the best restaurants I've ever been to and there are fourteen menu items I need to try before I leave."

Beca laughed. "Pretty organized of you."

"Aubrey helped," Chloe said. "She made a checklist and everything. She didn't like the way I was doing things."

"Sounds like something she'd do."

"Speaking of Aubrey, how'd the date with her go?"

"It was…interesting," Beca reluctantly replied. "I didn't go the way I thought it might."

"So good?" Chloe poked Beca in the arm to emphasize the point. "Bad?"

"Good," Beca confirmed. "Aubrey wasn't what I expected."

"What were you expecting?"

"I don't know. It just didn't seem like she liked me, but it was actually really nice."

"Nice?"

"Yeah," Beca said a little dreamily. "Nice."

The look on her face was too cute. Chloe knew better than to push Beca over the tipping point of embarrassment into silence, especially given how Aubrey was desperate for some information, so she didn't comment. Instead she just grinned back until Beca's shy smile grew into a match it.

"Ooh. Nice," Chloe teased glancing down at Beca's chest.

"Not like that!" Beca protested.

"So nice like how then?" Chloe said.

Beca flushed. It took some gentle prodding but Chloe managed to pry details from her about how Aubrey offered her a jacket and walked her home and how Beca what they talked about was pretty interesting. She talked at length, all through the serving of their food and drinks, about how Aubrey was a lot more than she seemed and how much of a dork she really was and how, distressingly, she really like that about her.

"So it was really nice," Beca concluded.

Chloe smiled. "I'm happy for you guys then."

Beca fiddled with the straw of her drink. "There was something weird, though."

"What do you mean weird?" Chloe said. Aubrey was a little, well, intense, but gradual exposure took the edge off of most of Aubrey's sometimes hurtful frankness. Maybe Beca was the sort of person who could be endeared to it too.

"It's just college and people have more space now, right?" Beca said. "It's just I haven't heard from her at all."

"She hasn't spoken to you since?"

"Well, I got one text from her and sent a reply but she didn't reply to that yet."

"Really?" That didn't seem right. Aubrey was up in arms about how the date went. As far as she could recall, it was Aubrey's standard MO to send a 'thank you' text to all her dates in an attempt to spark a bit of 'follow-up dialogue', whatever that was. It was good to know that Beca hadn't been drowned in a deluge of text messages but the radio silence didn't sit well either.

"I kind of sort of may have talked about her vomiting a lot," Beca said. "She's not too sensitive about that is she?"

"I'm sure that's not it," Chloe said. "Aubrey likes you loads."

Beca squirmed in her seat, quiet.

If it wasn't already clear to Chloe that Beca and Aubrey were suited to one other, this cinched it. Chloe had never seen two people so bad at communicating before in her life.

It was at that moment the waiter took his cue to serve them. Chloe rattled out her order while Beca skimmed the menu and went for a special. Chloe ordered her a milkshake despite her protests because they were the best and she knew better, she insisted. She smiled at the waiter and told him to supersize those drinks, pretty please, and he was more than happy to comply for a regular customer and departed.

Beca looked a little taken aback by her forwardness.

"Like I said, I come here a lot," Chloe said. "The food's really good and the wait staff is pretty cute too."

"I guess so," Beca said.

Chloe unfolded her napkin. "Just so you know, though, I don't think you should bring up Pukegate in future."

Beca blinked. "Pukegate?"

"Like Watergate. That's what all the aca-people were calling it after last year. There was even a message board discussing it."

"There are people who take it that seriously?"

"It was totally serious," Chloe said gravely. "A cappella is an intense thing. The Finals at Lincoln Centre are a big deal and we really want to get there again this year. It's all we're been working for. Aubrey feels terrible about what happened last year. I know she's not going to feel better until we get past the Semis. We were so close to being the first ever all-female group to win the ICCAs! She was so excited back then. We were going to make history."

"Oh," Beca said.

Chloe pursed her lips trying to decipher Beca's expression. On the surface of it, it looked like her same old neutral expression. With a bit more examination, Chloe could see traces of a doubt and surprise creeping into it. Chloe didn't know Beca half as well as she did Aubrey, but she could still guess the other girl was unsettled.

"It's going to be tons of fun," Chloe assured. "The rehearsal schedule is pretty intense but I know the performance is going to turn out great."

Beca relaxed but looked skeptical. "We're not sounding that great now."

Chloe laughed. "I just have to keep you all motivated until you see how good you are. The beginning part's the hardest, especially if you've never done a cappella before. We really have to lock it in." She clicked her fingers "It's cakewalk from there! Or that's what it'll feel like, anyway."

Beca raised an eyebrow. "You sound really confident."

"Aubrey will have everyone whipped into aca-amazing shape! We'll be great or we'll die trying."

"Aubrey's a real drill sergeant," Beca said. "Is that really the way things are run?"

"Aubrey's just passionate about the group. She comes on a little strong. You'll see. She's taking it easy on you guys now to ease you into the affair."

"This is taking it easy?"

"You weren't here last year," Chloe said. "When the Bellas were all veterans, things got really intense. It was legit war."

"Not helping Aubrey's case much."

"Okay, let's put it this way. You really shouldn't worry about Aubrey," Chloe said. "She's a real softie at heart. A genuine marshmallow."

"That's nice," Beca replied absently.

"And you, Beca," Chloe continued, jabbing a fork in her direction for emphasis, "are the warm campfire that marshmallow is roasting on, melting it into a soft, gooey mess."

"Wait, what?"

"I'm not sure where this metaphor is going either," Chloe said. "Never mind."


When Chloe returned from lunch with Beca, Aubrey had been camped out on the table in the shared kitchen/living space. She had a textbook open with a highlighter in it as a bookmark and notebook open beside that. Chloe guessed she must have been waiting like that a long time. She pounced, demanding an immediate intelligence report ASAP before catching herself and offering Chloe a warm drink (on the condition that report would be coming).

The buzz Chloe had gotten from aimlessly talking about music and hometowns with Beca fizzled. Aubrey pouted at her in a way she reserved for times she was truly, deeply desperate. People may have said Chloe's puppy dog look was impossible to refuse, but that was only because they'd never seen Aubrey's. She was really just shameless now, pleading with Chloe to tell her everything right this second because that was the most efficient course of action, yes?

So, of course, Chloe, sucker as she was for anything cute and looking her direction, sat down next to her and talked.

And talked.

And talked in detail to answer all the pedantic questions Aubrey had.

"You said I was a what?"

"A marshmallow," Chloe said. "Anyway that's not important."

Aubrey quirked an eyebrow, as if to say Marshmallow? Really? I hope I was low-calorie at the least.

"She also had a few things to say about Bellas," Chloe started. "Some suggestions."

That was sort of true. They'd talked around the Bellas at lunch, even if most of it was about Aubrey. The way Chloe saw it, since Aubrey liked Beca so much, maybe she'd finally warm up to some of Chloe's ideas if she saw Beca like them too. Chloe had done her best friend duty of getting the details of Beca's thoughts. Buttered up Aubrey would, sometimes, be more receptive to musical suggestions.

Aubrey bit her tongue. Then she said, "Suggestions?

"Like a music upgrade," Chloe said. "We could mix it up a little bit. Or, like I was telling you the other day, change practice around a bit."

"Beca doesn't know what she's talking about," Aubrey said. "She should save her criticisms for after she actually does a competition performance."

"I just think—"

"You think she's planning on usurping leadership, hijacking the Bellas and replacing our ladies' pop ballads with wubs?"

"What?" Chloe shook her head. How did Aubrey even know what wubs were? It wasn't the time for that conversation. Aubrey's panache for derailing uncomfortable discussion knew no bounds. "No, that's not what I'm saying. You're totally missing the point."

"So if that's not the point, then what is?"

"The point is she said she had a good time with you."

"'Good'?" Aubrey repeated thoughtfully. "Was that the exact word she used? 'Good'?"

"Well…"

"Chloe." Aubrey gripped her shoulders with both hands and looked her straight in the eye. "Was that the word she used?"

"She said 'nice'," Chloe replied. "She said it was 'nice'."

Aubrey grimaced. "Nice? Well, I could have done worse than 'nice'. 'Nice' certainly isn't 'good' but it's…nice."

"Aubrey?"

"I'm fine." Aubrey crossed her arms. "'Nice' is fine. Sure, it's not good but I can live with nice. 'Nice' is better than 'okay', right?"

"I'm sure 'nice' means 'fantastic' in the world of Beca," Chloe said. "Don't beat yourself up about it. Her fascination with your vomit doesn't mean anything."

"I'm not beating myself up about anything," Aubrey huffed. "I'm 'nice'! That's fantastic! And we didn't even talk about vomit that much!"

She stormed out of the room and slammed the door. Aubrey being Aubrey, it was just enough to be recognized as a slam but not loud enough to disturb the neighbors.

"Aubrey, wait!" Chloe shouted.

It was too late. Aubrey had stalked off too cool her head. It was a familiar arrangement. She'd be back within the next twenty minutes, composed as though nothing had happened. Distressing as the system seemed, it worked well and Chloe had never really figured out a way to change it or call Aubrey out on a way to change it.

Chloe rubbed her throat. The last bit of yelling had made it a little hoarse and all the singing was making it sore too. She must have had a dozen lozenges in the past two days but it didn't feel much better. Perhaps a visit to the doctor was finally in order.


The Sigma Beta Theta gig was around the corner and Aubrey had not let up in the slightest. If anything, the nervousness was driving her to run everyone ragged. There were only so many reassuring smiles Chloe could offer to diffuse the tension in the room before Aubrey snapped at people to concentrate. Chloe felt, maybe, something should be done about the way practice was being run.

"Maybe we should take five," she said. Aubrey didn't seem to notice. She tried again, "Aubrey?"

"Let's go, let's go, let's go," Aubrey chanted, oblivious to suggestions. "One more lap!"

How many laps had they run through the rehearsal space? Aubrey was experimenting with a new system. Every time any person messed up, everyone would have to run a lap. She found their cardio lacking. (No one dared mention they weren't adding their own to the mix.) Chloe supposed, in some part of Aubrey's hyper-disciplined mind, she thought it would help build group spirit, or at least a bigger motivation not to get lynched by the collective for underperforming. All it was really building now was resentment for Aubrey.

"Beca, speed it up," Aubrey barked. "No slacking. Let's move, people. Move it."

Chloe had been thankfully excused from making any more circuits. She counted her blessings. She assumed, like Aubrey, she'd been charged with ensuring everyone ran fast enough. Aubrey seemed to have that job well under control, though.

As the Bellas closed the end of their lap, Aubrey clicked her tongue in disapproval. There were maybe two minutes for everyone to catch their breath before she called people into positions to do a run through of the set.

Things did not let up.

"Stop!" Aubrey called suddenly, half way between a choreographed turn. "Stop, stop, stop. I can hear you all off-pitch. Jessica, you're sharp. Denise, you're not on the beat. Stacie, for the last time, grope yourself in your own time."

She clapped her hands. It was more like a boom of thunder than anything else. Chloe swore could hear the windows rattle in their frames.

"Again!"

Aubrey refrained from participating in the steps this time. Chloe filled the leadership void, stepping into the center of the formation. She could feel the girls behind her shiver as Aubrey glared them into position.

They ran through the entire run of 'Turn the Beat Around' once and ended with their jazz hands. Aubrey continued to stare at them, arms crossed tightly, frown firmly embedded.

"We're a mess," she declared.

Jessica looked like she was going to burst into tears. Ashley was rubbing her back and trying to say something comforting. When Aubrey decided she'd sufficiently let them all stew in their failure and self-loathing (as much of it as she could engender anyway), she finally said, "Let's call it for today."

The whole room gave a collective sigh of relief. Chloe had to concentrate to not sigh with them; Aubrey was watching.

"Remember to go through the routine at least once before the performance," Aubrey said. "We're meeting here and then heading to the SBT house together so we'll all arrive on time. If anyone is late, there will be consequences. Get a good night's sleep for the gig."

As the Bellas trailed out of the rehearsal hall, she saw Beca hang back as she alternated between packed into her bag too slowly and a glancing up at Aubrey's back.

Aubrey didn't seem to notice. She was still caught up leafing through sheet music and consulting the paper personal organizer she carried around. She rearranged some post-it notes in the diary with a frown, back to the rest of the retreating girls. When enough time passed and Beca sluggishly packed the last of her things away, she heaved an exaggerated sigh and walked out of the room with heavy footsteps. Still, Aubrey paid her no mind.

"Aubrey?" Chloe said, approaching her.

"We're doomed," Aubrey muttered, furiously rubbing the last set of choreography sketches off the board. "We're doomed and we're going to be humiliated and it's going to be entirely my fault again."

"Just relax, Aubrey." It was the best piece of advice Chloe could offer. There was nothing to do but wait now anyway. Chloe had been doing a lot of that as of late too. The only slot free for a doctor's appointment was the morning before the SBT gig. Oh well. She could power through until then.

"I can't relax," Aubrey said. "We have tradition to uphold and a legacy to ensure. They're not- they're not ready. I didn't get them ready."

"You've run them ragged. The routine is in their heads. We've got this," Chloe assured. "Like I told you before, I have a feeling we're going to be aca-awesome."


They weren't.


When Beca signed up to join an a cappella group, she never thought this would be her first experience of a performance. A cappella itself didn't seem that interesting. The bland, mellow arrangement they were meant to perform didn't help matters, nor did their lackluster execution of it. A cappella seemed no less lame then her initial assumptions had granted.

When Beca sang with Chloe in the shower, awkward as it was, she hoped it could mean something. Music was meant to be music, after all and in that shower stall, good acoustics or not, something intangible and indescribably just clicked. It was going to be about the music. Have some fun here, maybe meet some people there, get a ticket to LA. Beca was totally up for making music but this music… Well…

"I hope you remember how you feel right now so you never want to feel like this again!" Aubrey barked as she marched her disgraced tropes away from the fraternity yard. They'd practically been laughed out of the place in a show so horrendous payment wouldn't be coming through.

It was too early in the year for the proper Bella uniforms to have been ordered an assigned (and to say the usual surplus stock for the occasion weren't the right sizes was a gross understatement) so they'd made do with navy blue cardigans thrown over the shirts. To Beca, the whole look was only marginally less flight-attendant chic.

"First off, let's make a list of everything we did wrong." She exhaled deeply. "No, that would take to long."

What a way to build up team morale, Beca thought. The uptight criticism and strict standards were more like her initial impression of Aubrey: all ruthless efficiency and no fun. It was still a jarring dissonance between the Aubrey she'd seen on their date and she didn't know what to make of it.

"Chloe, don't look like that," Aubrey continued. "You're supposed to be setting an example. For serious, Chloe, get your head in the game. Your voice didn't sound Aguilerian at all."

Chloe sunk visibly at the comment, staring even more intently at her shoes.

Distress flicked over Aubrey's eyes and she lowered her voice a tone, hissing at her co-captain, "Chloe? What it wrong with you? You—"

"I have nodes!" Chloe declared.

Aubrey looked aghast. In a flash, any trace of anger vanished from her face She took a step forward and a tight grip on Chloe's hands, flashing a small smile of reassurance at her before worry overtook her face again.

"What are nodes?" Beca asked bluntly, sizing up the way the two were holding hands.

"Vocal nodules," Aubrey articulated. She gave some sort of a medical explanation after that but Beca, to her shame and disgust, had grown a little too distracted to catch the nuances.

On some level, even if she didn't quite get how bad nodes were meant to be, Beca knew this was a tragic and personal situation. Illness was illness and Chloe, usually sunshine and happiness personified, looked pale with worry.

"Is that okay?" Beca said. "Can Chloe really keep singing?"

"I love to perform," Chloe said, holding back tears. "Nothing could make me stop."

"You are bigger than this," Aubrey said, gripping Chloe's hands a little tighter.

"Right. I can do this," Chloe went on. "I am a survivor."

Despite knowing there was a need for propriety, Beca couldn't stop staring down Aubrey's shirt. More specifically, dwelling on the fact she could see Aubrey's bra down her super unbuttoned shirt.

The sight of the Bellas uniform had, at first sight, sent a shock of revulsion and embarrassment through Beca but she had to admit Aubrey filled out the blue very well. Beca herself had to be coaxed into unbuttoning anything past the second by Chloe but Aubrey, perhaps in compensation for everyone else's awkwardness about the regulatory Barden Bella cleavage requirement, had maybe gone just a tad overboard.

Beca was torn between telling her and not telling her so she could keep watching. It was at this point Beca knew she was ruined. This was ridiculous and they hadn't even had a first kiss. Aubrey was being patently unfair. There was some sort of conversation going on, she was vaguely aware, but, even as much as she liked Chloe, the whole thing seemed melodramatic. They were just an a cappella group. No big deal if they didn't do anything, right?

"At least it's not herpes," Fat Amy pitched in. "Or do you have that as well?"

Aubrey glared at the comment on Chloe's behalf.

Oh, god. Now Beca wouldn't be able to think of Aubrey without thinking of herpes for the rest of the day. Actually, maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. Aubrey was taking up a lot of space recently. Herpes was a pretty bad image. Maybe it'd be enough of a disincentive to think about Aubrey.

Chloe mumbled some more assurances, trying to clear up the rancor of Aubrey's mood and their undoubtedly poor performance. It was a veritable speech on the importance of friendship and practice and trying so after-school special Beca barely registered it. Chloe managed to pry some small smiles onto formerly disheartened places while Aubrey quietly had an aside with Fat Amy.

Really, that was all Beca could concentrate on. Watching the two of them talk out of the corner of her eye, Beca realized 'aside' may have been too forgiving a word. Aubrey grit her teeth and held her head high, sniffing disdainfully. She and Amy exchanged some words that left Amy with her tail between her legs, visibly wilting. 'Herpes' was mentioned more than once, from what Beca's limited lip reading skills could ascertain. The words 'forgiven' and 'watching you' were also said. Amy just nodded vigorously throughout but relaxed when Aubrey clapped a hand on her should and pointed to the other Bellas with a resigned smile.

They regrouped all together and, after a few biting words about Aubrey 'expecting them to do much better in future' (and a glare that promised they'd all be held to that standard) they were dismissed.

Since there was only one road back from this part of campus to the dorms, the effect wasn't particularly dramatic as everyone kept walking down the same stretch of cobbled pavement. Everyone sans Aubrey and Chloe seemed desperate to run away. That proved difficult given how no one had the heart to overtake Aubrey on the narrow pathway. She gave out this dark aura that made her feel like the shark in Jaws.

Before they reached a fork in the path and properly dispersed, Beca approached the blonde. She didn't know what she was trying to say. Words of reassurance? Advice? Suggestions or change? What was she supposed to do? Was this actually a thing she was meant to do at all? It was just— Aubrey looked upset, Chloe had somehow disappeared into the ether (another doctor's appointment? Beca had lost track of what really happened in between all of Aubrey's lectures and grousing) and it felt like the task of improving the blonde's mood had fallen on Beca.

Aubrey was still off in her own a cappella centric world, though, fuming about this or that and muttering things under her breath with a frown.

"So much for gigs paying the way to regionals," Beca could just about hear her say.

"How are we going to raise money for regionals?" Beca asked.

Aubrey looked startled, but her frown quickly returned. "Not now, Beca."

"You know, it's only been like a week. We can—"

"I said not now."

"Okay…" Beca said. "Hey, do you know where Chloe went? She's not going to do do anything stupid because of, you know…"

"They're called nodes Beca," Aubrey said. "It's not a taboo word."

"Okay. But Chloe…"

"What do I look like? Her keeper?" Aubrey snapped. I don't know where she's gone. I don't have time for this."

"I was just ask—"

"I said not now!"

It was like being blind-sighted by a punch to the face. Beca could have thought a hundred metaphors right then to express her shock and disbelief.

"Fine," she mumbled.


When she got back to her room, Beca consulted at least three different websites about vocal nodules.

Chloe was a little out there, yeah, a real head-in-the-clouds-type but she didn't seem like the type to run off without warning. Beca was, okay, maybe Beca was a little worried but that didn't make them officially friend friends like that the way she and Aubrey weren't, well, what was the word you called a person you went out with that one time? Were they friends too? Beca hated this 'other people' thing.

She liked Chloe, anyway. They talked about things. They enjoyed each other's company. She didn't always try to convince her to watch terrible movies sometime and her jokes weren't that corny. Aside from the whole 'I've seen you naked' thing, it was a pretty comfortable, normal set up. Beca wasn't really one for the status quo, but she acknowledged it was…pretty nice. She didn't have much in the way of friends and the past few months at Barden had been (not lonely because she didn't get lonely) kind of uncomfortable. She like Barden better with the Bellas.

So Beca did what she had to do.

She sent a text to Chloe asking if she was really okay and if nodes really were that serious. Then, many hours later, she sent one to Aubrey asking to Aubrey asking the same. Chloe didn't text back. Maybe it was too raw an issue; the thought made Beca feel pretty shitty for bringing it up – it was a freaking disease she had after all. (Beca didn't think about how she made fun of Aubrey's seemingly involuntary vomit reaction on their date, no she definitely didn't.)

Aubrey, however, did text back. It was a clipped, perfectly informative message noting that an e-mail had been sent to her school address with some hyperlinks to websites on the matter (some forums frequented by actual singers who'd had the problem and swapped life stories) and a perfectly civil judgment from Aubrey saying that 'Chloe would survive the season'.

Since she apparently had Aubrey's attention, Beca composed another message. She opted for something teasing. It would be funny. Aubrey could give a sharp remark in reply and they'd exchange barbs and banter like they did on their date. It would be good.

One problem: she couldn't think of anything remotely witty. It was ridiculous. Beca Mitchell was an endless oasis of wit. Something was wrong with her. She sighed and settled for a generic, open-ended comment on the next practice that Aubrey could latch onto. She never shut up about a cappella when she got the chance, or at least she didn't when they were on their date.

Beca read over her handiwork and hit send.

To that text, Aubrey did not reply.