A/N: Sorry it took so long to update! The actual rough draft is finished, but I've had zero time to go through and change names and proofread. There's only one more post for the story and then it's over! :) It's been great. Enjoy!

Big Picture

Beca and Benji approached the Starbucks counter together, Beca knowing what she wants and Benji feeling a sense of being overwhelmed.

"I'll have a mocha caramel latte-chino made with skim milk, no whipped cream. Please put that in a grande cup, but use the same amount of coffee that you'd put into a tall. That way there's about an inch of extra room on top to stir in my own nutmeg without spilling any coffee at all." Beca spun her head to look at Benji who was staring at the menu intently. "What do you want?" she barked.

"Uhm…I'll have a tea." he muttered.

"What kind?" she tried.

"Just. Tea?" Benji didn't know there were options. He wasn't even sure if they sold tea there.

Beca looked back at the barista and rolled her eyes. "He'll have your green Darjeeling tea, which I am sure you know cannot be steeped for more than ninety-five seconds." After handing the barista her money she turned back around towards Benji. "Shall we?" she asked, gesturing towards the end of the counter where they would get their drinks.

"So what's your deal?" she asked curiously as they sat down at an empty table with their drinks.

"My what?" Benji echoed. He hardly knew what she was talking about.

"Your deal." She responded. "What are you about?"

"Well, I'm about five foot eight, I guess." Benji let out a small chuckle before noticing Beca's unamused face. "You really don't find me funny at all."

"Funny, yes. Amusing, no. But seriously, Benji, I want to know. Describe to me your big picture."

"Well, there's this Picasso," he began.

"Don't start." Beca cut him off before he could continue down that path. "Everyone's got a big picture. Something they shoot for that sets them apart. We've all got an awful lot to do before we're dead. So, where do you see yourself in, say, five years?"

"I haven't thought that far ahead." Benji admitted, taking a sip from his tea.

"Are you gonna be serious?" Beca asked, unsure if this was a huge waste of her time. Probably.

"Do I have to be?" he asked, making his puppy-dog face. "Well. I work for an artist." he finally admitted.

"Tell me what you do!"

"I don't know, I watch his cat. And this morning I fixed his curtain rod." Benji trailed off.

"Sure, okay, that pays the rent, but that is not exactly what I meant when I asked to hear your big picture, something beyond your daily routine. Talk about your big picture, the fairytale ending that you've always seen. I am sure there's something more to you than doing chores. Everyone's got a big picture in mind." Beca admitted.

"So what's your's?"

"Well, since you asked." Beca began. "In five years, I'll have an amazing apartment with bookshelves built into the walls. A window that looks out on someplace big and a personal assistant who screens my calls. The book I write will be required reading to get into the seminars that I'll be leading. That's the plan as far as I can see it." Beca felt herself smiling until reality set in. "And yet it isn't quite apparent what I'm supposed to do to get it." Beca took a sip of her coffee and sighed. "Some big picture." After a brief moment of silence, Beca chirped up. "How's your tea?"

"My what?" Benji asked, caught completely off guard.

"Your tea?" Beca repeated. Man, he needed to clean out his ears.

"Oh, it's sort of…gotten cold." he admitted after taking a small sip to check.

"These stupid baristas don't know how to heat up a proper —" Beca started to shout at the lack of competence.

"Beca, it's really okay. Look, I know that we just met, but it seems to me that maybe you might wanna get some perspective on this big picture. Big, after all, is a relative term. Maybe this whole big picture shouldn't be something on which you stand firm. You're in a rut, who cares, so what if your picture's not quite clear? I mean, you and me and lukewarm tea. This could be your really big picture right here." Benji tried to get his message across to her.

"Oh my God, you're right." she sarcastically admitted.

"See?" he exclaimed.

"Sitting here at Starbucks drinking mediocre coffee with a professional cat sitter is all my life is going to amount to."

"That's not really what I meant." Benji sighed.

"No, it's okay. I'm a strong woman, I can handle it." Beca joked. "Oh my God, what time is it?" she pulled out her phone, confirming her worst thoughts. "I have to go!"

"No, you don't have to go!" Benji tried.

"Yes, I do. I'm late for my appointment." Beca explained, gathering up her things.

"Beca, there's something I want to show you."

"I can't!" she reminded.

"But Beca!" he called after her.

"Not now!"

"Then soon?" he asked.

"Yes, later Benji!"

"Promise?"

"I promise, later, Benji!" she promised, linking her pinky in his like a child.

"Call me then." Benji told her as he ushered her out of the store.

"I'll call you later." she echoed, blending into the chaos of the bustling city.

"Where are you going, Aubrey?" Jesse called after as she turned and began to get away.

"Please don't—" she warned.

"Bree, stop!" Jesse tried desperately.

"Not now." she shouted, her voice cracking as the lump grew bigger and tears built up in her eyes.

"You can't just leave me in the rain and hope that things will wash away." Jesse pleaded.

"It's not my fault that it is raining." she told him, wiping her tears away.

"Aubrey!"

"It's not my fault that it is raining, is it?" she mumbled to herself.

"Answer me!" Jesse begged. "Would you just listen? Don't you want to… Jesus, Aubrey. Where are you going, Aubrey? Can't you just talk to me, Bree?" Jesse felt his heart drop to his stomach as the golden sunshine disappeared around the corner into the gray of life.

Hundred-Story City

Jesse made his way to the nearest bar and texted his best friend, Jason. He already downed a few beers by the time Jason showed up at the bar.

"What am I doing here in the middle of freaking New York City?" he asked drunkenly. "Blurting out proposals and holding Cabernet." Jesse held up the bottle and handed it to Jason. "And what am I doing here with Aubrey, trying to push our lives to some degree she clearly doesn't want since she's gone. And if we're moving nowhere, should I move on?"

Jason knew that Jesse had to get all of this out of his system so he sat there and listened as his best friend wallowed in his sorrows. "I moved to the city and thought I couldn't take it and certainly I never thought I'd stay. But then she came along and was the one thing in the city that made me feel like I belonged here every single day. No matter where she'd take me, somehow she would always make me feel a part of some great tapestry the world had spun. And I could always look at her and not feel so alone. But suddenly that's done…isn't it…" Jesse put his head down on the counter, feeling the warm buzz of alcohol take over.

He couldn't make heads or tails now of what they have been doing. He thought stepping up and moving in would make things clear. The one thing in the city that he always thought was certain was the she and him were working hard to build a future here. Sure, maybe he was careless. Maybe he should try to wear less of his heart upon his sleeve and let her say goodbye. "I don't want to start that now." he mumbled. "I don't want to let go 'cause she's the only reason why I'm livin' in this hundred story city where you've got to hold on tight to what you care for. She's why I'm one out of a hundred million people, sticking out the angry cars, the crowded streets, the lack of stars, putting up with so much that it's all a blur. That's what I've been doing just to be with her."

Jason got Jesse cleaned up as much as possible and walked him out of the bar. "I think I'd rather walk alone." Jesse told him, hiking up his jacket collar to brace the chilly weather. He needed to sober up. Jason walked with him a little and then turned down his own street to head home to his wife, Claire.

Jesse didn't understand what he's supposed to do now. "I don't understand these people always standing still." he mumbled as he passed a crowd of people stopped on the sidewalk to observe a guitarist.

"I don't want to be a person who is always standing still." he thought to himself. "I wish that I could make the people disappear except for her."

"I just want to see her." he cried out as he stopped in his tracks and looked up to see the hundred-story buildings. "What am I doing in this hundred-story city where you're always moving fast but going nowhere? Oh, I don't care if there's a hundred million people, I just want to be with one!" Jesse could feel himself start to lose it as he got closer to their apartment. He always told Aubrey that there was nothing they wouldn't make it through, but she's unearthed a break-up clause which is wanting to put life on pause. So, Jesus Aubrey, what now?

Jesse unlocked the door and was greeted by a dark and cold apartment, the sound of tiny puggle feet pattering against the wood to greet him at the door. "Hey boy." he said quietly, rubbing Rocky behind his ears.

Party Interlude

Aubrey finally arrived to her cousin's party, Riesling in hand. "Hey, I'm ready for the party!" she said, kissing her cousin on the cheek. "I know I'm late, but, God, I swear, you live so far downtown!"

"Where's Jesse?" her cousin asked, pouring Aubrey a glass of wine to take the edge off.

"What was that?" Aubrey asked hurriedly.

"Jesse?"

"Yes, of course he's coming to the party." she blurted out, her eyes darting around the room.

"Alright then where is he?"

"I don't know, he's back at home still, maybe coming down with something." Aubrey lied, she could feel herself panicking.

"Are you sure? Are you telling me a lie?"

"No for Christ's sake, I'm not lying." she shouted, all eyes on her.

"Aubrey what's wrong? Have you been crying?"

"No, my God, I've not been crying!" Aubrey defended, wiping any signs of tears off of her delicate face. "Will you excuse me for a minute?"

And with that, Aubrey was off.

Calm

Beca was on the 6th train heading uptown to her lit. professor's office. It's like light years off of campus, don't ask her why. She's sandwiched in-between this guy who's literally drooling and some European hipster who, well lets be honest, smells. Woody Allen heard Gershwin in the air when he thought Manhattan. Well, Beca is not so impressed, she hears like Philip Glass at best. She spends all her time just trying to get calm. But it's not working.

Clearly, she's a magnet for a special breed of psycho who thinks being weird's a valuable use of time. And her notebook likes to wander on its own across the city, taking with it her whole thesis, which she needs to write, like, now.

"I don't remember the Muppets getting hives when they took Manhattan." she whined, scratching at her arm in frustration and anxiety. Her own diagnosis says she's creeping toward psychosis 'cause she cannot find a place to get calm. It's really hard, you know!

She tried to take up yoga, but you'll be surprised how many folks don't think deodorant is Zen. She even saw a life coach her told her she should breathe. Just breathe. But every time she took in a breath, she visualized that life coach's death. She's having lunch at Cafè Pierre and she's choking and choking and CHOKING and finally she's calm.

Anyway, she gets to her professor's and he sits her down and tells her that her thesis on Virginia Woolf feels somehow false. "But what I'm working from is not so much a thesis but the fact that she went crazy and that seems well, apropos!" Her professor just tosses back his head and a dry Manhattan. She's wondering which will kill him quicker, the Big Apple or the liquor when suddenly she panics and tells herself she must get someplace calm!

Beca up and ran toward Penn Station. She thought her head was ready to explode. She hopped a train to Jersey, just as fast as any person could go. Then 90 minutes out, she got off at some provincial hamlet she had never heard of. Beca noticed a real estate office right on the block and made her way there. Inside, she realized that she could afford a two bedroom, and she went into shock! "What the heck!" she exclaimed and wrote a check 'cause there's sunlight and closets and laundry, but mostly it's calm.

Really calm.

Strangely calm.

Like times square at five A.M. calm.

Like totally freak you out calm.

Like Beca thought she was gonna slowly go crazy and throw herself over the balcony, calm.

"Damn it." she muttered as she stood on her balcony, looking down into the green grass she never saw in the city except when walking through the park.

Beca went back to the real estate office and tore up her deposit. Then she headed back to Penn Station. Of course, Beca's luck would be that the subway's broken, so she walked four miles home. Like 14 hours later, she got back to her apartment with her crazy spastic roommates and a room, well, of her own. She's got this black and white poster on her wall that says "My Manhattan" and she gives it her middle finger, but she lets her gaze linger. And she notices how the people look like tiny specks of grey, all haphazardly arranged just like they were in that Monet. And suddenly, she's struck with this bizarro revelation that like, Benji's whacked out theory might deserve some exploration. She sat on her bed and she realized that she's finally calm.

Life Story (Reprise)

Benji sat in his chair in the study, going through his collection of memorabilia from the years. He knows that everyone's got a big picture that guides them through life toward what they want to be. So if everyone's got a big picture, how come his picture's something that he still has yet to see? He pulled out a flyer that's been in his backpack for weeks now, buried down deep, getting faded and wrinkled and torn. He has been making these flyers 'til kingdom come writing all of these words that now seem, kind of dumb. It's hard for him not to feel that this isn't his real life story.

He imagined he'd come here and do something big that the artist in him would prevail. But all he's done so far is copy these words from some hippie downtown who's sitting in jail.

Well, this is a guy who cannot be described as a quitter. This is a guy who should do what he set out to do. You might snicker and laugh that it's so cliché to think making these means he has something to say. But he does, and that's why he wishes they could be his life story.

Benji's thoughts were cut off by the ringing of his cellphone playing the StarWars theme song. "Deb!" he exclaimed, recognizing the number that popped up.

Gotta Get Out

"Taxi!" Aubrey yelled, tears rolling down her red, puffy cheeks. One pulled to the curb as she waved her hand up and down to get their attention. "Thanks." she muttered as she scooted into the musty cab. She let out a small sigh of relief since she was finally alone. She threw her head back against the headrest of the back seat. "Hi." she finally let out, noticing that the driver was waiting on her instructions.

"I'm not usually inclined to take up useless conversations with a Taxi driver, but I saw as I was walking all these taxis without passengers in constant circulation without a destination. And that's not what life should be about, so we're gonna get out!" Aubrey confessed. Considering the circumstances, strangely, she was on an adrenaline high.

"Alright Miss. Where are we getting out to?" the driver asked hesitantly.

"I don't know." she admitted. "Cross the bridge, take the road to another state. We'll sit back through the noise and traffic and wait for some kind of scenery change. Wait till the view from our windows is strange." Aubrey looked up front and saw the driver's face in the mirror. "Hey! Trust me I'm not crazy. I can see you making faces in the rearview mirror. I will pay you what the meter says just drive me up the highway. I don't care how far the way is. I guess what I'm trying to say is 'In the bike lane of life, sometimes you gotta get out' okay!"

"I still need an address." the driver told her. Every time he opened his mouth, Aubrey could smell the cheap cigarettes and faint alcohol.

"What?" she exclaimed. "Weren't you listening? I don't know where to! You're the professional! You should be making these kinds of decisions!" Aubrey let out a huge sigh and started picking at her nail-beds, an old nervous habit of hers. "I'm sorry." she finally admitted. "I am really not a person who is qualified to tell you where we should be going. I mean I just left my boyfriend standing back there on the sidewalk which is bad enough without disclosing…he was actually proposing." She had finally admitted to herself. "That's it! There isn't any doubt that I gotta get out!"

"I'm trying, ma'am, but you aren't being very helpful." the driver half-shouted as he drove through NYC.

"Come on! Hit the gas, make a turn, let this taxi speed 'cause there isn't a thing in the world that I need more than someplace my head can be clear, probably miles and miles from here. I don't mean to freak, and I don't mean to shout, but right not, God, I really gotta get out. I can't stay here anymore." Aubrey was getting worked up, she could feel her anxiety taking over her body as the seconds ticked by. "I just gotta get out though I still don't really know what I am getting out for." she admitted to herself under her breath.

Aubrey knew she should be near him and, Christ, fell happy, but it's like something's changed inside of her DNA. She just wants to tell him that she's lost and that she's frightened, but something's there that smothers all the words she wants to say. So how can she be what makes him happy when she can't even make a promise that she will stay?

"I've gotten used to keeping all this space between us. And when he looks right at me, I just want to run away." She admitted quietly, picking the nonexistent dirt from under her nails. "I need to accept the fact we're through. We won't get that far staying where we are." Aubrey glanced out the window and something caught her eye in the sky. "Oh my God! Stop the car! I gotta get out!" she shouted, practically jumping out of the cab before it had come to a complete stop.