(Cuz Beca as a wee babe is just pure love.)
One minute. One, single minute. A total of sixty seconds exact.
One minute-
- and Beca is rushing through the pouring rain, both hands held up to her forehead in order to provide some sense of coverage for her eyes. Fifty seconds, Beca is getting struck by (what the fuck?!) –lightening (the fucking hell?!). Forty seconds and Beca is tumbling and sliding onto the drenched asphalt, smoking and surprisingly still very much awake. Thirty seconds, Beca's abruptly stopped just outside the curb of the sidewalk, still on the pavement of the road with her foot caught in the bars to a water drainage (but when have her feet been small enough to even fit in these narrow drains?). Twenty seconds and Beca is struggling to free her feet, pouring rain having no mercy to the visibility of incoming traffic. Fifteen seconds, Beca is praying to a god she never believed to exist, yelling and shouting for help. Five seconds, she's looking the other way…
Two seconds, and a pressure is pulling underneath at her arms –and suddenly she's flying, feeling the harsh brush of the car tug at her shirt (really big shirt…?) and watching it zoom just inches away from her toes.
(Where are her shoes?)
(Where are her paNTS?)
Dip-shipping flip crackers.
…what.
"Are you crazy?!"
Maybe, from her view of things going on. Realizing that you've just been struck by lightning can really do things to a person's mind. Mentally effecting yes, physically –well of course. You're bound to be burned or some shit like that. Like, where's the sizzling hole right? Have the movies been lying to us all along?
"Hey." Ah yes, the voice. Forgotten momentarily at the whole "just-got-hit-by-lightning-and-nearly-died-and-ship" gist (ship?). "Are you alright?"
At this point, our protagonist wasn't entirely sure what was real and what was fake. For one thing, she wasn't walking, but she was defiantly moving. Then she could see a brick wall to her side –underneath the shades to a restaurant apparently. But why, where –who was…why was it weirdly warm…
"Whad?" Her voice- she immediately recoiled in shock, jerking her head back and bumping into something damp just behind her head. "Whad", said with a squeak-ish tone, nasally, almost resembling to a flipping (what?) child.
"Alright now," who the flip –what the flIP—why can't I flipping fudging fudge fudge fuDGE FUDGE-"Wanna' tell me your name now?"
She raised her arms, her hands, to her line of vision. Tiny fingers, stubby tiny fingers. Then she was ruffling through her short hair, feeling down her flat flat chest. Obviously something wasn't right here. First her voice, now her actual appearance. It also became apparent at this moment that she was also short. As in, shorter than normal.
(Plus, she was being carried bridal style by some random chick.)
(And was somehow fitting in this woman's arms?)
(WHAT.)
"Don't be scared," and suddenly, someone's hands were brushing through her hair. "Well, I guess I'd be pretty scared if I'd almost been run over by a truck. But it's tots all right now! You're gonna be just fine."
One. Someone was touching her hair. Two. Someone was fudging carrying her. Three. The ability to curse was being rejected. But how was that even possible right? How was any of this even possible?
?
"Legg'o!" She'd have to worry about the squeak-ish voice later because for now, her first and foremost objective was to get the fudging heck away from this random coddling lady. "Lemm'e go woman!"
"Woah ther-"
Nope. Beca wasn't even going to wait for a response of any type. No way in hay. Self defense 101 was activated and Beca was punching and kicking out at the woman, sinking her fist into the hard abdomen of the women (yeesh) yet effectively brining out a breathly "oof" from her. Then her feet were on the ground, and she was brushing away at the hands coming to grasp her shoulder and running. Just, fudging (fuDGE-) running.
"Wait!" lost in the whistling of her ears as she took off into the rain, legs automatically initiating panic-mode and pumping into action. Where was she going? Don't know, not really thought of. Wasn't she supposed to be going somewhere? Car maybe? Or was it to a home? Still not perceived –not really cared in an overall sense. Because there was no stopping it. Beca was scared. And when Beca was scared, there's really only one thing to be done.
Fudging run for it.
(Fudge? FuDGE)
Nonetheless, as much as running may have appealed to Beca's deduction of the situation, it may not have been the most appropriate choice of actions. The factors around her to begin with –wet sidewalk, bare feet, and newly uncoordinated limbs –proved to be the first problem. "Fudge", being the only thing squeaked out as the heel of her foot gave a sudden slip, tossing her face first onto the cement and rolling her a couple of feet forward before finally coming to stop on her back. The rain continued, dropping heavily onto her face in an almost taunting manner.
"Oh gosh!" and the rain was then stopped. The face of the woman was looming over her, a shocking pair of blue eyes coming closer as she kneeled down beside our fallen protagonist. "Oh gosh," she repeated, this time more concerned than panicked. There would be scrapes no doubt, not to mention bruises.
But who gives a fudge right? –Beca still had no idea what to do. An innocent child as she looked, a clueless lady as she thought.
Should she get up? Yes, she should. And she did, or at least she tried. It seemed as though the nearly acquired body of hers was a bit more sensitive than her previous, yelping at the sudden throb on her skinned knee.
"Ohhh no you don't missy," and immediately she was being lifted again- fudge fudge fudge because her arms were all but shaking, and her eyes were all but tearing up. This wasn't right. Beca Mitchell doesn't cry. Not even when her three-year devoted boyfriend broke up with her. Or when her parents divorced in the middle of her high school years. Or even when her boss called her a "fag" and fired her on the spot. So why, why in heavens name—why does she feel like her chest is about to burst and throat is about to catch on fire? Why was she now sobbing endlessly into this random hot chick's sodden shirt, allowing the spoken reassuring words to give her some sense of comfort?
Easy. Beca Mitchell was still scared. And as much as twenty-two year old Beca would have preferred her normal strategy of running the fudge away, five year old Beca had a different mindset on what "normal" meant.
…
(Did she just get kidnapped?)
…
(Not that she would have minded to be honest…)
…
…
"Alright then!" Beca was now seated on a chair in "Chloe's" apartment. Name's exchanged only after calming the crying child and seeking shelter from the rain in her car. "Let's take a look at those boo boo's now, huh?"
Boo boo's. No way in hay.
"Noe."
Yes. For those looking for clarification, Beca was indeed pulling the "stubborn card". She twisted her body to the side, hiding the scraped knee from the older woman's view. From Beca's view on things, Chloe was coddling her. Absolutely unacceptable. She could obviously shake this little scrape off easily. No need to clean it or anything with the stinging disinfectant or anything. (Because she totally was not under any circumstances weeping her heart out only a couple hours ago.)
"Beca," even with her arms crossed and frown clear, Beca was still painfully aware at the stern gaze of the other woman's gaze. "We've got to make sure it don't get infected. Bad things can happen if they do."
"Doe."
Fabulous. Now her voice was becoming nasally again.
"Beca, don't make me say it again."
"You're not my mom," was the only thing grumbled back. "Don't touch me."
"Don't sass me young lady."
"Well you're not."
"Then where is your mother then? And your father if you don't mind me asking."
"Mom's in Texas, Dad's on vacation with step-monster in New York."
"…"
"…I'm hungry."
"You mean they left you?! In the rain and –and alone and-"
"Nah, it's cool." A basket of fruits was spotted in the middle of the table. "I mean yeah they divorced and all, but I can easily visit them whenever I want to."
"But," spluttering out her words in disbelief. "But how? You're just a kid…"
"Oh this?" Beca was now reaching over casually while motioning to her whole body, taking advantage of the confused woman's mind and grabbing at a banana. "Naw this is just temporary. I got, like, struck by lightning or something. Now -"poof", messed up version of Pinocchio."
"You –wait what?"
"I know right." She slowly began peeling open the banana, biting off a big chunk while allowing Chloe to take in the information. "Pretty crashzy."
"…*stares*…"
"…*continues eating banana*…"
"What the hell?"
"I know right?" she tossed the banana peel onto the table. "And check out this censorship!"
"Wha-"
"FuGDE! Fugde! Seriously, this like, cray. I can't curse at all!"
"Um…"
"Fugding fudge crackers! Fagde fugde Hoover Dam! Sink to the deepest pits of hay and suck dippin' dots!"
"…alright then."
"Crazy ship right?"
…
"Sure." She was nodding, looking up briefly and mouthing a quick "why not" before getting out the first aid kit once more. "Well older or not –those cuts aren't going to be cleaned by themselves."
"No."
"Beca…"
"…will it hurt?"
Chloe, at this stage, could hardly suppress the typical "aww" at the face little Beca was giving her. Of course she had no idea what this child really looked like, not to mention if the story was even real in the first place (fairly believable though right?). She was cute though. A pout was stuck out, along with a fierce glare with her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. Without a doubt –this was one hell of a lovable badass.
(Oxymoron's rule.)
"Only a little," Chloe calmly answered, bending down and taking out a swab of cotton while pouring a couple drops of alcohol onto it. At once Beca's body was tensed, and her arms were squeezed tighter to her body as she begrudgingly scooted back to fully face the woman again. Seeing this, Chloe only raised an eyebrow and (with only the smallest of a smirk), held out her hand to the pouting "child".
"Would you like to hold my hand?"
"Psh," Beca only looked away, muttering something before looking back. "Don' care."
"Alright," Chloe hummed, focusing her attention back to the bloody knee. "I'll just keep my hand right here then," saying this while placing one of her hands on the edge of Beca's chair.
Careful, cautious as she gently dabbed at the surface of the abrasion. Almost instantly her free hand was grabbed, tiny fingers coming to seize hers tightly. With every swab came a tighter pressure, Chloe only returning it as she continued the task at hand. Only when she was done dabbing at it she stopped, using a wet clothe soaked with soap and water to clean the dirt and then once more applying disinfectant to it.
"All good?" Chloe asked, looking up while wrapping gauze around the area.
"Yup," came the tense response. Beca's eyes slowly came to open, her hand however not leaving the grip of Chloe. (Not because she felt extra comforted or anything. Tots not…)
Once the bandage was completely wrapped, Chloe (sadly) asked as politely as possible if she may "have her hand back" in which Beca (horrified) immediately shoved back while shouting a quick "OMG LIKE YEAH WHATEVS! I WASN'T LIKE –I WASN'T…" –soon proceeding to enter into a quiet self loathing lapse while Chloe only chuckled.
"You like taco's?"
"Fudge YES."
And thus, tacos were prepared. During this series of cooking is when Chloe decided to ask our young Beca about her life. Her –mind you –real life. Beca (why the hay not and all?), gladly responded. Internship, music, soon to be future producer. No boyfriend, looking for a girlfriend, working side jobs as a DJ in nearby clubs. Chloe, throughout this entire explanation, was only a tad bit weirded out. Not because hearing information like this being spoken out from the mouth of a five year old was only slightly disturbing…(yeah that was the reason why).
"So what about you?"
The food was done, balanced in both hands as Chloe came to place one in front of Beca and the other on her own seat next to her. "Me?" she quickly tossed the leftover banana peel into the trash before sitting down. "Elementary school teacher. Love those little kiddies. Also probably the reason why I pretty much freaked the fuu-heck out when I saw you. And when I'm not doing that, part time at a fitness center."
"Did you jusht censhor yourshelf for me-sh?" chewing messily while peering up almost accusingly at her.
"…habit," Chloe immediately responded, picking up her taco and digging in to avoid further embarrassment.
"Mmhmm…"
Shortly they both finished, Beca doing her best to help out with cleaning while Chloe pretty much did everything. A moment of silence passed after they were finished, and Beca was nearly slapped after stating that she had better "hurry home" whilst walking casually towards the door. At once she was stopped and scolded (like a flippin' child!) as to why that was one of the worst ideas a person's ever come up with and why she was an idiot and why she blah blah blah blah…
You get the point.
So now, Beca was lying on a couch. After taking a shower and being given a large shirt to wear an underwear that had apparently belonged to Chloe's little cousin, she was ready for bed. A fluffy blanket snuggled up to her chin, a soft pillow behind her head, and a (though not insisted) small nightlight to her left.
So why is it that Beca couldn't close her gosh darn eyes? Was it the stress of "will I ever return to my normal self?" Or was it that she simply just wasn't tired?
CRACK -BOOM!
Wrong on both assumptions. Beca was scared. Again. But this time, there was nowhere to run. The storm was pounding heavily at the window, coming down even heavier than earlier in the evening.
"Beca?"
So yes, this is why she found herself rushing to a certain redhead's bedroom door. There was the usual contemplation at first, but when it came to the entire apartment rumbling after every flash of lightning –nope. Child-Beca ain't dealing with that ship.
This is why Chloe was suddenly startled awake at the feeling of a small body being pressed against her back. Sitting up onto her elbow and turning over, lifting the blanket to find a guilty eyed Beca staring innocently up at her.
(Who can ever say no to a face like that in the first place?)
Chloe only proceeded to lay the blanket back down, this time facing Beca's side as she lied down. At first there was nothing, only an uptight lump refusing to give the smallest of a twitch. But when the next strike of light was projected from the blinds of the window, and the roar of thunder all but filled the room, there was a shivering bundle scooting frantically up to Chloe's stomach. Cute, because as badass Beca may wish to label herself as –
There was no way in –hay –Chloe would let her live this down.
Oh yes. Once they figured out Beca's whole "condition" out, it was without a doubt that they were going to become fast friends. For now though, Chloe would play her part with a warm smile. Console, provided with a soothing arm and snuggling demeanor.
Then they were asleep.
(What an interesting way to introduce yourself to someone…)
…
(Effective nevertheless…)
…
…
"Hi."
Beca was awake.
"Hi."
Beca wasn't in her bed.
"Did you sleep well?"
Beca was being cuddled in the arms of an stranger –no –Chloe. The hot stranger.
"Yeah. Pretty good."
Beca was twenty two again. (How? The fuck am I supposed to know?)
"OHGOSH!"
Now Beca was scrambling backwards, pushing away and out of the woman's arms and tumbling off the bed.
"Woah!" Chloe was laughing, slowly sitting up and peering half interestedly down at Beca's fallen figure while stretching out her arms. "You alright down there?"
"UH…YEAH. FINE. TOTALLY FINE."
"Kay," she yawned, giving a final stretch before slipping off the bed and groggily making her way to the bathroom. She paused only for a moment to look Beca's sprawled position up and done, nodding and muttering a quick "oh she's hot" before entering the bathroom and shutting the door.
Beca didn't move. Nope, she didn't dare to move.
"Can you make breakfast?"a sweet voice soon called from the bathroom as the shower was started. This is, obviously, what got Beca up, startled and snapping her head to the door.
"Suuure…"
"Thanks!"
"…"
So Beca sat herself up, flushing to the root at her realization of no pants and rushing her way to Chloe's wardrobe.
"I'm taking a pair of your pants!"
"Yeah go ahead! And take an underwear too!"
Oh for god's sake…But she did, shimmying in and out into both garments. Still blushing hard as she walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Breakfast, what to make for breakfast…
Coffee.
Eggs.
Maybe pancakes?
…
…
Wait.
…
(Wait.)
(What?)
What.
WHAT.
WHHAT.
No one knows Beca.
._.
