Chapter three. Boom. I'm on a roll.

It's a bit on the short side, but it hit everything I wanted to, so without further adieu...

The Swansons invite her over for dinner, and it becomes habitual to share a meal with them every Friday evening. His older sister, Mary, is also present; she's a lot like Jesse. Maybe that's a good thing because at the moment, Beca doesn't know if she'll ever get her Jesse back. Mary's personality serves as a nice supplement.

"Everything looks great," she says enthusiastically.

"Well, it better," Carol agrees in exasperation, "I've been cooking all afternoon."

"You didn't have to—"

"Nonsense," Carol shakes her head, "you just sit there and enjoy, Beca. Don't worry; I don't mind doing it."

Beca ducks her head sheepishly. "Well, thank you."

"Of course." The table is still. "Well, go on. The food won't eat itself."

She doesn't understand how the Swansons can be so selfless. They're grieving, too—more than her, she can guess—and yet they still have the energy to care for her. They make her dinner and see that she's doing well. Sometimes, they call her just to say hi. They're entirely too kind, but that's entirely why she loves them. They're just like Jesse, and she can't get enough.

Beca uses the dinner as an opportunity to learn more about Jesse, and his family hides nothing. They are not ashamed to admit that Jesse is the baby of the family. Mary is twelve years older than him, and Jesse was the unplanned child who became smothered in love. They talk about how he was always the baby. She laughs at this, and begins to see where Jesse gets his personality. Mary is every bit as witty as he is; intelligent with her pop culture references and witty with her responses.

"I can't imagine Jesse dancing on the kitchen table in Star Wars boxers."

"It happened," Bill assures her.

Mary nods. "We have it on video."

Beca laughs and demands to see the video. They agree to show it to her some other time because Jesse would be horrified if she watched it without him.

After dinner, she returns to her dorm at Barden and pulls out her computer. She borrowed his movies from his room, and selects Titanic. She instantly regrets this decision because by the end she's a complete mess. She forgot to pay attention to the score.

She misses him. She misses his hand on her knee, and she misses his goofy smile and dorky movie references. She misses the way his hand feels around hers, and she misses the way his eyes narrow in confusion (and perhaps pain) whenever she doesn't understand a Star Wars reference. Most of all, to her surprise, she misses the way he stares at her when he thinks she isn't looking. It's always the same look, as if he's never seen anyone more beautiful than her; his eyes are soft and his head is cocked to one side, and there's a small, pensive smile on his face. It makes her feel like a thousand butterflies are trapped inside her chest. She loves it.

She misses it.

"Beca!" he crows as she enters his room, and she can't help but grin maniacally. The nurses have propped him up so that he can comfortably watch TV, and he mirrors her smile as he ushers her closer.

She sidles towards him. "How ya doin', weirdo?"

"Great," he responds enthusiastically. "I've got nurses who come in whenever I push this little button, and there's a Star Wars marathon playing, and they're letting me eat more than hospital food now."

"Sounds great," she nods. Her mouth is thin; she can't tell if the old Jesse—if her Jesse—is back.

"Are you gonna watch it with me?" he asks, and she has no option but to say "yes" because he's asking her with those puppy eyes she can't refuse, and she pulls a chair up beside him with a tiny shake of her head. He senses his victory and cheers, and she rolls her eyes.

She tries to pay attention to the movie. She really does. But all she can focus on is Jesse; Jesse being the Jesse she knows, and Jesse holding her hand and mouthing the words and positively lighting up when his favorite parts are close.

"You're not paying attention," he observes, and she shakes her head furiously.

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not," he counters.

Her stubbornness is broken, and she sighs in defeat. "Sorry."

"No, you're not." He's smiling.

His cheeky response earns him another eye roll and a soft shove on the shoulder. He laughs.

He's been making tremendous progress, and the doctors estimate that he should be able to return home in a few more weeks. She's about to tell him about the Bellas when there's a knock on his door. They both turn. It's Dr. Mitchell.

"I'll be right back," she tells him, and he nods.

She's been ignoring her father's calls, which is probably why he's at the hospital right now with this more-than-angry look on his face. She walks over to him and leads him into the hall, turning to face him when they're a safe distance away from Jesse's room.

"Beca," he greets her shortly, and she knows she's done something wrong. Of course she has; she hasn't been going to her classes, she hasn't been answering his phone calls… she knows something is coming. She's just not sure what.

"Hey," she says, stretching the word out to last several seconds. "So, uh… sorry about not answering your calls…"

"This is more than you not answering," he sighs, "this is about you squandering your education for a boy you hardly know."

She recoils. "Excuse me?"

"You hardly know the boy, Beca!" he yells, "You've only been dating for, what, five months?"

"I've known him for over a year," she retorts.

"You're losing sight of why you're here."

"I'm here because you ordered me to be," she growls. "I wanted to be in L.A. I stayed because I found a group of people who I really care about, and that includes Jesse. What, are you saying I can't see him? That I have to focus on school?"

He doesn't answer her.

She laughs, shaking her head in firm refusal. Her eyes are wider as she says pointedly, "Not happening."

"Something has to change, Bec."

"Fine," she shrugs, "I'll work on my grades. I'll focus more. I'll go to class, and I'll get my grades up by the end of the semester." Words, words, words.

"And if they're not up by the end of the semester?" he arches an eyebrow.

He's serious, and now she's seriously worried. A few seconds pass before she responds.

"If they're not up by then," she draws a deep breath, "I'll cut something. I don't know what, but I'll let something go."

"All right," he relents, "but you really need to try, Beca."

"I will," she vows, and she means it. She'll try; she will.

She's not going to lose the Bellas. She's not going to lose her music.

And she's definitely not going to lose Jesse.

"So… I'm supposed to take orders from you?" he asks wryly.

"That's how this works, yes," she answers, not looking up from her computer. "Finish stacking the CDs, nerd."

"You're no fun," he frowns. "Your promotion has changed you."

She's about to come back with a witty remark when she pauses, looking up quickly. "What did you say?"

"I said that your promotion has changed you."

"You remember?" she stands up and walks over to him, hope in her eyes.

"I…" he trails off. "I mean, I remember that we worked together in the studio."

"Is that it?" she asks, her hope faltering.

His brow knits in concentration, and Beca knows she might be pushing it—hoping for too much. "Nevermind, Jesse," she sighs. "Go back to stacking CDs."

He hesitates, and she has to force a smile to show him that she's not upset. He falls for it, and she knows he's still not himself. He still doesn't remember her—or at least, what they shared.

And it hurts. It hurts her more than she thought it would. Watching him stack CDs, oblivious to her pain when the old Jesse would have known she was upset and wouldn't have left her alone until he found out why… it kills her.

So she silences this pain by immersing herself in her work and her passion. Her new relationship with Jesse is still a work-in-progress, but she isn't going to abandon it. She told herself she'd get them both through this, and she will. She has to. They'll come out on top; they always do.

She watches him out of the corner of her eye as he begins his daily chore. He's humming to himself and tapping the case against the palm of his hand, making ridiculously adorable faces as he decides where to file the album.

It's some obscure show tune; she's pretty sure of that. He keeps humming it over and over, occasionally throwing in a few small dance moves as he maneuvers down the aisle.

She shakes her head, concealing a smile as she watches him from the booth's window.

Weirdo.

I'm counting this upload as the 2nd even though it's the 3rd here, but shh I haven't slept yet so it's ok. Technically, that means I've updated twice in two days. Which is pretty fantastic. (Don't get used to this; it won't last long.)

A bunch of you want his memory to come back, and I assure you that it will. It just takes some time. (Clearly, I'm taking a few creative liberties here when it comes to comas and whatnot...)

- Hannah