Wow this took a while, didn't it? See, I told you I couldn't keep it up long. In my defense, this fic took a mind of it's own and I had to re-plan some things. So yes.

I'm getting tired of adding disclaimers so I'm not gonna do that anymore.

Warning: This fic gets sad(der) before it gets better.

Warning 2: Les Mis spoilers (sort of). I mean, it's called Les Miserables. Everyone dies. (There's a character death mentioned.)

"A movie?" he echoes.

"Yes, a movie. We could go see a movie, like… whatever's out now. Les Miserables is out, isn't it? You like that," she encourages him. "We could go out to dinner and then go see a movie."

She's been trying. Really, truly trying. It's hard. She's not sure she likes this whole "trying" concept. But she knows that she has to try because if she doesn't, she could lose him. So she devotes as much of her free time as she can to spending time with him. He remembers simple things, like his favorite color and his favorite movies and his favorite foods. He doesn't seem to remember his relationships with other people; Benji looked mortified when Jesse asked why Benji had a giant box of swords, and his parents looked heartbroken when Jesse asked why Mary called him "Froggy" (it was a family joke, apparently; Beca didn't know the details).

"You don't like movies," Jesse interrupts her thoughts with a knitted brow, and she smiles because he remembers this about her.

"But you like movies," she counters, jokingly adding, "and… I kinda like you."

"'Kinda?'" he asks.

"Sorta," she agrees with a definitive nod.

"I see."

"Do you?" she challenges.

He isn't able to keep up the façade for long, and he caves first.

"Let's go to the movies," she shoves his shoulder.

"Let's go see the stars," he sings.

"Oh, no."

"Cowboy heroes, cops and robbers…"

"Jesse, I swear to God…" she shakes her head warningly.

"Sorry."

So they go to the movies. She sits through three not-as-bad-as-she-had-anticipated hours, and by the end she's drying her tears with the sleeves of her jacket.

"The play was better, but the movie still does a wonderful job," Jesse comments as the credits roll. "I'm glad they got Samantha Barks for Éponine instead of Taylor Swift. She was in the musical as Éponine, you know. So she's perfect."

"Mhm, yeah," Beca's hardly listening because she's still trying her hardest not to picture Gavroche lying dead on the pavement. And then she's trying her hardest not to picture Jesse lying dead on the pavement. It's weird how she can go from being so blissful one moment and so emotionally distraught the next. She had thought that phase was over—that she wouldn't be having nightmares and daydreams (or are they daymares?) of Jesse dying. Jesse's recovering well, and she knows she has nothing to fear. He's alive.

But she can still see him lying on the pavement outside the restaurant, his eyes staring up at the sky and his whole body trembling.

"Jesse!" she shoves the car door open and races to his side. She had come out to warm up the car; he was supposed to be right behind her. He wasn't supposed to be lying on the ground in a bloody mess. She shoves people out of her way and crouches over him, her heart pounding in her chest. She looks up for help, but someone is already speaking with an operator. The driver of the car is stammering her apologies, but Beca doesn't hear her. She's too scared to touch him—afraid that if she moves him she could make things worse—so she smoothes back his hair and tries to maintain composure. He smiles weakly at her efforts, and her face breaks into a smile.

"Stop that," she scolds, "the ambulance is on its way."

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't," she interrupts him and grasps his hand. "It's not your fault. You didn't see it coming."

"I should have looked."

"Yeah," she agrees, "that would have been the smart thing to do. Don't talk anymore, though. Just… save your energy."

"I…"

She can feel him slipping; he's having a harder time keeping his eyes open, and the words fade from his lips before he can finish them. His grip on her hand loosens, and she can hear an ambulance in the distance.

"Just a little longer, Jesse," she pleads, barely able to see him through her tears. "It's almost here."

She's guided away from him as the paramedics approach, and she crosses her arms tightly across her chest as she watches them move him onto a stretcher and carry him into the ambulance. She's warned that he could die, and she climbs into the back of the ambulance without asking. No one stops her. No one tells her she's not allowed. Because as soon as she sits down beside him, she's holding his hand and crying, and they let her because his outlook isn't too promising.

"Beca?" she can faintly hear his voice, and she moves her head to look at him. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," she manages, "I'm just… I'm fine. You ready to head back?"

He nods.

And there it is again; the sign that her Jesse isn't back. He may seem like Jesse Swanson to other people, and he may look like Jesse Swanson on the outside, but he's not the Jesse Swanson she knows.

She just wants him back. That's all. No more, no less. She wants the Jesse who knows when she's distraught, and she wants the Jesse who knows how to make her feel better.

"This isn't good for you, Beca," Chloe frowns.

"We're fine," she sighs, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

"You're tired all the time," her friend argues over Skype, "you're working so hard to keep it together, and it's tearing you apart. It's not fair to you."

"It's not like he isn't trying."

"I know."

"He is trying."

"I know." She pauses. "And how is that coming?"

"Well, you know…"

"Beca."

Beca avoids answering, and she knows she's been caught. She likes to pretend that things are easy with Jesse, and she especially likes to pretend that his memory (or lack thereof) isn't affecting her. She steels herself against the initial pain and lets it hit her later which, in the grand scheme of things, probably isn't the best way to deal with the situation. But it's better than any other option she had considered.

"I really like this guy, Chloe," she says after a moment. "I want… I want to make it work."

"You're exhausted all the time, Beca. You're overworking yourself. You're putting so much of yourself into this relationship and you aren't getting anything back."

"Not true."

"Really?" Chloe raises her eyebrows.

Beca hesitates. "I mean…"

"Have you… kissed… yet?"

"Chloe."

"I'm serious."

"I'm not answering that." Beca shakes her head.

"Because you haven't?"

"Because it doesn't matter."

"So you haven't, then."

"I—that's… not the point."

"It's entirely the point," Chloe says.

They're both silent, and Beca stares off into space as she thinks. Chloe's right. Her relationship with Jesse the past few weeks has been entirely one-sided. Somehow, she had deluded herself into thinking that it could work; that she could fix him without hurting herself. But it wasn't working. It was emotionally tiring to love him and not have him love her back. He had always been there for her, loving her no matter what she did. He was so selfless, and she wasn't.

That was the difference. Maybe if she had been hit instead, things would be different. But she was the one left to mend their relationship, and she was royally sucking at it. She was skipping classes to spend as much time with him as she could, and she was still making little progress. She had told herself that this sort of relationship was healthy, but it wasn't. She was investing herself entirely, and he wasn't. Did this Jesse even love her? She used to think he did, but now she wasn't so sure.

She refocuses on Chloe, her mouth thin. "I gotta go."

"All right," Chloe nods slowly. "Everything'll work out eventually, Beca. You two… you're perfect together… but maybe you just need some space."

"Yeah," Beca agrees softly. "I'll talk to you later, Chloe."

"Bye."

"Bye." Her voice is a whisper, and she ends the call before she has a meltdown.

Waving her hands in front of her eyes and breathing deeply, she stands up and paces around her room. Calm the fuck down, Beca. You're fine. He's fine. You're both fine. Nothing's wrong between you.

She shakes her head because she's lying to herself. Nothing's fine. Nothing's getting better. If anything, things are getting worse. There's something separating them—some sort of evil that's keeping them apart.

Even worse, she's not sure she can handle it. She had thought she could. But that was before she heard Éponine sing "On My Own," and before he, yet again, failed to recognize how upset she was, and before her conversation with Chloe. She had told herself she would be able to handle the one-sidedness of their new relationship, but maybe she couldn't, after all.

And it sucked.

"You were supposed to get your grades up, Bec."

"I'm trying."

"I know you are," he sighs, "but it's the end of the semester and they haven't improved enough."

"But they have improved," she points out, sinking back against the chair in front of his desk.

"We had a deal."

"We did," she nods, "and I did my part. I got my grades up."

"You're still failing half your classes."

"Not the important ones." She knows immediately that it's not the right answer, and she groans. "Dad, please."

"Bec, you know I wouldn't do this unless I had to. We had an agreement, and I've gotta keep you to it."

This decision was supposed to be hard for her. It was supposed to be the worst decision of her life. But it wasn't. It was incredibly easy, and it terrified her. The only reason she was hesitating was because it was so easy. Because she hated that it was such an easy decision. She met her father's eyes with resolve, though her posture showed reluctance and pain.

"I know you do," she says. "And I'll keep my end of the deal."

"You will?" He's unable to keep the surprise out of his tone.

"Yeah," she nods once and stands up. "I'm breaking up with Jesse."

She begins to walk away, and Dr. Mitchell stands up quickly. "Bec, wait…"

"No, Dad, it's fine. Nothing's really… working. I'll be able to focus more on the Bellas and school and the studio… it's fine."

He doesn't believe her, but she leaves before he can get another word in.

As she walks down the hallway, her hands clenched in fists at her side, she wills herself to follow through. She loves the Bellas too much to leave them, and she loves mixing too much to give up that. And at one point, she loved Jesse more than both of those things combined. She still does. But it's become increasingly harder to do so. Love, she's learned, isn't easy. And whoever told her it was can go fuck themselves. She finds herself trying not to cry as she walks away from her father's office with Éponine's words ringing in her ears.

I love him
I love him
I love him
But only on my own

So. I'm not sure how I liked this part. I liked some bits. I don't like others. But here it is anyway, since I kind of owe you.

Not sure when the next part will be out. I have it started because I know what I want to happen, but we'll see.

- Hannah