A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I had a strugglefest writing this and then had some issues with my computer (yay technology) and it deleting windows office from my hard drive along with most of the files. Basically technology hates me and the feeling is entirely mutual.

Enough excuses, here's the next chapter.

Chapter 7

Beca POV

"I'm not having this conversation," she spoke into the open fridge, her hand on the door frame. Its light cast an eerie glow over the otherwise dark kitchen.

"And why not?" I bit back, swinging my arms back in emphasis and knocking a glass from the kitchen island. It shattered at my feet, the sound reverberating about the apartment walls. I muttered a curse word under my breath, taking in the scattered pieces.

Chloe shut the fridge door with more force than was necessary, turning to me.

"You're drunk," she sighed, stepping around the mess I had made to grab a broom from the cupboard. "I'm not having this conversation when you're drunk."

"Then when the hell are we going to have this conversation?" I asked her, barely able to contain the anger that had built up inside of me. She crouched over the pile of glass, gathering it and then sweeping it into the dustpan.

I laughed bitterly, "It's not like you're here enough for us to have any sort of conversation, let alone an important one."

"Fine," she threw her hands up in defeat, dropping the dustpan down with a clatter and stepping back from the task for a moment. "You want to have this conversation, then fine, let's have this conversation, Beca. If you've got something to say, then here's your chance. Say it."

I tried to square my shoulders in her direction, failing to keep from teetering to one side. I overcorrected and connected my backside with the kitchen island with an oomph.

"Why don't you start by telling me where you've been?" I asked with the gusto I thought I had misplaced when I knocked the glass off the counter.

A flicker of panic flashed across her features before she schooled them back.

"I've been at the hospital," her voice strangely monotone.

I shook my head, "Of course you have. That's why when I called there earlier they said you had the day off. In fact you've had the whole past week off."

"What are you checking up on me now?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest, her tone and body language practically screaming the word defensive.

"Apparently for good reason," I slurred, the room beginning to spin in circles around me. I was suddenly regretting that last pull of whiskey. And the one before that. Maybe the three prior to that weren't the best idea either.

"So now you expect me to tell you every move I've made at work? Need me to tell you about every surgery I scrub in on too?" Her voice flared upwards, "I took some time off. How is that an issue?"

"It's an issue because you lied to me!" I shouted back at her, standing tall, my vision blacking out for a second from the sudden movement.

"When?!"

"Just now! Or did you forget about that too?" I hounded. With difficulty I made eye contact and held it.

Her gaze dropped to the ground beneath her feet. "I don't have to tell you my whereabouts every waking moment!"

I held up my left hand, "You see this?" I asked her, pointing towards the ring on my finger,

"I'm your wife," I stated firmly, "That means you're supposed to talk to me and tell me things... Like when you take a week off from work for no apparent reason."

"I'm your wife, Beca, not your lapdog," she snapped, "I'm allowed out on my own. I can even make my own decisions."

Tension crackled in the air, an intolerable silence dwelling there.

"What's going on Chloe," I redirected, knowing that particular rung of conversation wasn't headed anywhere positive. "Please just talk to me," I begged.

Why wouldn't she talk to me?

I had spent the night trying to find an answer in the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. Benji had begrudgingly picked me up from the bar in the middle of the night because my wife hadn't answered her phone.

Just as she hadn't made it back in time for the dinner date we had planned that evening.

Just as she hadn't found the time to call.

Just as she hadn't found the time to call all week.

She was in and out of the door each day of the week before I could so much as say hello.

And then I had found out she had the week off from work.

Why wouldn't she talk to me?

Whatever was going on was major and she wasn't giving me a single clue.

My vision blurred and with a single blink of my eyes the tears rolled free.

She sighed, taking a deep breath before taking a tentative step towards me.

"I'm sorry. I should have told you, I just needed a break."

Her tone was apologetic. Exhaustion flowed through each of the words she uttered. I took the time to look at her.

She looked tired, her eyes bloodshot and her hair ragged. Her week off didn't seem to have done her any good.

The tears in my eyes were reflected in hers.

How did we get here?

A sob broke free from the depths of my chest. I wasn't able to hold it back any longer.

Everything seemed to hurt nowadays.

"God, Chloe," I sobbed, "Please tell me what's going on."

She shook her head, tears falling from her eyes.

"What's happening to us?" I rasped out, burying my face in my hands.

She stepped forward without hesitation, carefully sidestepping the glass to wrap me in her arms. Her grip was painfully tight as though she were trying to physically remind me of her presence.

I buried my face in her shoulder, the fabric there instantly stained wet by my tears.

"I'm sorry," she replied, her own voice tearful. "I'm so sorry."

"What's happening to us, Chlo?" I whispered.

"I don't know," came her reply, so quiet it was almost silent.

I tried to take a deep breath.

She tightened her grip further, cutting the breath from my lips.

"Hey, loosen the grip. I'm not going anywhere," I whispered into her hair, her arms slackening slightly around me.

"I know you aren't," she replied, her words suddenly hollow as we clung to each other.

XXXXXX

I tried to focus my eyes on the blurry outline at the foot of my bed.

It couldn't be…

My mind reasoned through the possibility of it actually being the name that had escaped my lips.

My eyes shot to Benji, his gaze flicking between where I lay and where the figure stood.

I struggled through the haze of the pain medicine and the confusion of what I had been informed was a week of unconsciousness.

It had to be an illusion or perhaps a delusion. I must be in some sort of drug dream. There was no other explanation. There was no other way to explain the presence in my life of the woman I hadn't seen in over a year. The resemblance was uncanny, but it was nearly impossible.

Pull it together, Mitchell.

The figure gaped in my direction, opening then seemingly thinking better of it and closing her jaw.

I cleared my throat before trying for words again, "I'm sorry. I thought you…" My throat caught as I considered the unlikelihood that I would ever see her again. "I thought you were someone else."

My eyes dropped to the wires protruding from underneath the flimsy gown that covered my broken body.

As if it weren't bad enough, now I was going mad.

Perhaps going was a stretch seeing as my sanity had been firmly tested as of late.

In the past year, everything that I had once held to be concrete had dissolved beneath my very feet. I was left to wade through the aftermath undeniably alone in the venture.

There was a soft knock on the door, the woman who had introduced herself as my nurse popped her head in before she entered.

She smiled at me, her eyes lingering then on the figure in the room. She gave a cordial nod after some contemplation.

"I just wanted to let you know that it's our shift change so Theresa will be taking care of you for the rest of the night. Did you need anything before I go?" She asked, but my attention was on the other woman in the room.

I could see now that she was dressed in scrubs. She looked nervous. She had hardly moved so much as a muscle since my nurse had entered. Maybe she was new… and incredibly awkward.

Benji finally spoke for me, "I think we are okay for now, thank you."

"Okay, well press the call button if you need anything," my nurse spoke, backpedaling from the room. "Have a good night Beca," she nodded toward Benji, then to the woman in the room she added, "Dr. Mitchell."

My eyes shot to the only other body in the room. A faint blush adorned her cheeks. A click of the door signaled my nurse's departure from the room.

Chloe.

It was her. I wasn't imagining it because if I was then so was my seemingly very sane nurse.

What was she doing here?

"What are you doing here?" Came tumbling out of my mouth, the pain meds or exhaustion the more than likely culprits for my lack of filter.

"I…" Her voice broke on the word and she cleared her throat while awkwardly shifting her weight from foot to foot. "I, erm… I uh… I work here," she settled on.

"Here?" I asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of my voice. I wasn't all too clear on where exactly here was but I knew it wasn't anywhere near home.

She stiffly nodded, averting her eyes.

So this was it, this was where she had run to.

But why?

"Why?" I found myself asking.

She shrugged uncomfortably reminding me every bit of our last interaction over a year ago.

XXXXX

"Well explain it to me then," I shouted after her as she walked away from me.

"I don't have to explain it to you," she defended, coolly.

I lofted the object in my hand toward her head. She caught sight of it from the corner of her eye, eyes widening as she ducked down in the nick of time to dodge it.

"Jesus, Beca," she exclaimed, "What the hell was that for?"

She bent down to pick up the now shattered object, the briefest moment of recognition flickering across her features.

I narrowed my eyes in her direction, further angered by her feigned indifference to the topic at hand.

"Fine. If you can't explain where you were last night with your phone off then explain that," I said, having already been pushed past my point of no return.

It had been months of secrecy and subterfuge and I was done. I wanted answers, not generalizations, not abrupt subject changes, but answers.

"It's... It's..." She stuttered over her words.

"Let me help you out here, Chlo," I bit out the nickname acridly, "That object in your hand is a cell phone, one that certainly isn't on our monthly bill and one that you've apparently been keeping in addition to your actual cell phone that you no longer have the mental capacity to answer!"

She stood, silent, turning the now broken phone over in her hands.

I muttered under my breath, "I should have known. I mean one day you're all too keen on having a kid with me and the next you can barely make enough time to have dinner in the same apartment as me," she tilted her head at me, brow furrowing further as my thoughts continued to pour out of my mouth. "I mean, we haven't had sex in months… Which should have been my first warning sign but I guess I was just…"

I was just being naïve. It's funny how quickly what I had once considered to be trust devolved to become naïveté.

I was upset with Chloe but I was even more upset with myself.

Through it all, "I should have known."

"Should have known what?" She asked, cutting me from my internal and projected dialogue.

"How long?" I countered with a question of my own, letting my words linger in the air.

"How long, what?" She parroted back, confusion evident in her tone. "How long have I had the phone?"

I let out a bitter laugh, "No," I said incredulously. At least she wasn't trying to lie to me about the phone. Although I had clearly backed her into a wall with that one.

What I couldn't understand was how she was trying to keep up this farce? She had to know it was over by now.

"How long, what, Beca?" She repeated again as though she didn't know.

When she didn't offer up any more suggestions I continued, "How long have you been cheating on me?"

"Beca, I…" But she trailed off.

My blood ran cold as I finally admitted to myself what all of this had meant. I had my suspicions but had hoped they were wrong. They had to be wrong. I didn't let myself believe that they were right.

But now…

I spoke as evenly as I could. "You can't even deny it, can you?"

Her jaw dropped, her eyes widened, her brows raised, but she hadn't denied it.

There was a look of resignation on her face that confirmed my suspicions.

She cheated.

She had cheated on me.

She knew what it would do to me but she had done it anyways.

And for only God knows how long.

And with only God knows how many people.

"I should have known," I shook my head, condemning myself once again.

She shifted her weight from foot to foot, her eyes darting from left to right as if she would find an escape.

"How long?" I struggled over the words. "I at least deserve to know that. We've been married for two years, together for five. You owe me that."

Her mouth opened only to shut several times, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

The sight of those tears building fueled a rage inside of me. She didn't get to cry. She was at fault here, not me. I wasn't going to feel bad for her. She cheated, not me.

"Beca, I—" She began, apologetically.

I cut in, "Save it," suddenly changing my mind about having a discussion. "I can't do this right now."

My voice broke on the words. I was barely holding myself together. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me break down so I told her, "You should go."

"You should leave," My words came out nonchalantly, so different than the chaos and uncertainty that I felt inside.

"I need some space," I muttered, my eyes locked a scuff on the ground. "And I can't even look at you right now, so you should go."

She hesitated slightly before grabbing her keys and purse and walking toward the front door. She cast one final glance in my direction and I couldn't keep myself from searching her features for any guilt.

I saw guilt, pain, sadness, and some unidentifiable emotion, momentarily puzzling me before she closed the door behind her.

XXXX

Each of the emotions remained etched into her eyes as though no time had passed.

But it had. And I wasn't willing to look past the last year and what she had done because she decided to visit me in the hospital she worked at.

Would she have come if it were any place other than where she worked?

I had tried to call her, text her, hell even email her before realizing the number was no longer in use.

She had deactivated her phone shortly after our argument, her half of the closet cleaned out when I returned from work one evening.

I had been desperate enough to call her family, her mother doing her very best to say she hadn't seen her. It was evident that wasn't true, but soon it became apparent she wasn't in contact with anyone.

She had fallen off the face of the earth in a matter of weeks.

I couldn't help wondering if she had ran off with whomever she was having the affair with. Maybe they were here too, in this hospital.

Just the thought was enough to turn my stomach.

I stared straight at her as she shifted, still blatantly uncomfortable.

My attention was diverted as the door opened and a tall woman in blue scrubs and a white lab coat walked in. Her eyes shot over to where Chloe was standing. She arched an eyebrow before turning to me.

"My name is Dr. Posen, I was the cardiothoracic surgeon on your case," she spoke in an educated and refined manner, "I thought I would stop by to check on your progress."

She unraveled her stethoscope from around her neck and placed the ends into her ears as she walked over to the bed.

Her eyes never left the monitor containing my vitals as she asked politely, "I'll just ask the two of you to leave the room for a couple of minutes so that I can conduct the exam."

Chloe was out the door in a flash, shooting a grateful look to the back of Dr. Posen's head. Benji stood slowly and followed suit, shooting me what was meant as a reassuring grin as he left.

Dr. Posen conducted her exam silently, only asking questions occasionally. She took notes on a half sheet of paper beside me, her eyes gazing at me curiously.

"When I was a kid, I loved to read. My favorite stories involved a character called Nancy Drew," she spoke, focus fixed on the half-sheet of paper in front of her. "It's a tad embarrassing to admit just how key a factor she was in my childhood. I was Nancy for five Halloweens straight before my parents were able to convince me to switch up the pattern."

"Is this a part of my exam?" I smartly retorted.

She set her pen down, fixing me with a glare that held me back from voicing any of the other quips I had on the tip of my tongue.

"I spent the majority of my childhood pretending I was some kind of detective. Even had my own detective kit complete with a notebook and a magnifying glass."

Dr. Posen's brow furrowed as she looked me over again. She shook her head.

"So what," I started, "Are you trying to use those detective skills to figure out how the great Dr. Mitchell could have been married to me?"

She snorted, breaking her professional aura slightly. "Here's what I know. She's been here for a year. In that year she's spent more time in this hospital than even I have, which is quite a feat. From what I know her routine rarely deviates from work, apartment, occasional stop at a mom and pop diner across the street, but never anywhere else."

She picked up the half sheet and folded it, holding it in her hand.

"I've known her for a year, considered her a friend for a little under that yet I've only been able to get her to do anything outside the hospital twice one of which was the company Christmas party so that hardly counts," she added, "It was always clear that she was hung up on somebody, but not a single one of us had any idea she was married until you were rolled in here half alive."

She paused.

"I'm not trying to figure out how she could have married you, I'm trying to figure out why she left you if she's obviously still in love with you."

Her honesty surprised me. I was expecting a professional response and instead got exactly what I had asked for.

"She doesn't love me," I corrected.

Dr. Posen stood to her full height, clicking her pen and placing it into her lab coat pocket. Her expression made it apparent that she didn't believe me.

"She cheated on me," I informed her, interested in how she would dispute that, "Did you happen to come across that in your investigation?"

The blonde doctor hardly blinked, poker face firmly in place. If she hadn't known about the cheating before, she didn't show it. "Don't you find it odd that a wife that supposedly cheats on you doesn't mess around with a single person since she came here? That she kept your name when she moved across the country for a fresh start?"

Her words puzzled me, my head throbbing as I tried to process them.

"She's probably ashamed by all of it," I concluded, dismissing her ponderings.

"Maybe," Dr. Posen drawled, "But if there's one thing I know it's that something isn't adding up. It doesn't take a detective to figure that out."

A/N: How'd you like Beca's POV?

Just a note, the previous flashbacks were in somewhat chronological order and these ones jumped a bit into the future. I'd give better dates for them but honestly I hate deciding all of that so I'd rather leave it nice and vague.

Thank you all for sticking with me through all of this. I still can't give a definite outline for updating but hope to stick to around two weeks.

Please drop a review into the little box below if you have the time!