Thanks for your reviews, and I beg you, don't kill me. I know I've committed the atrocity of not updating immediately. But I'm here to deliver the longest chapter yet, so keep reading and commenting like the supportive guys you are, yes?

This is a spur-of-the-moment chapter, a filler that unfortunately can't be left out. I've rewritten this so many times until I came up with a decent version, and frankly, I'm not happy with it. But this is the only way I can set up Aubrey and Beca with Chloe being okay with it, you know? Besides, I solemnly swear the next chapter will be posted sooner, now that this one's out of the way. Okay I'll stop nitpicking. On with the story!


"Aubrey Posen sp –"

"Aubrey, hey."

"Jesse?" You're already pacing back and forth, struck wordless with astonishment upon seeing Beca's name on your phone, and even more astonished at the voice that greets you. "When did you get back from Nashville? And why are you calling me with Beca's phone?"

"You never answer when I use my own," Jesse replies accusatorily. "Stacie and I have been calling you for days."

You get even more worried. "Why? Did something happen to –" you catch yourself at the last minute, biting back a certain brunette's name on your lips – "the, uh, apartment?"

"Look, I know you're dying to ask about Beca. Otherwise you wouldn't have answered this." Jesse clears his throat. "This is about her. It's been a madhouse in your apartment lately."

You hear Stacie's voice in the background. "Is that Aubrey?" Jesse grunts and hands the phone to the tall girl. "Aubrey, when are you coming back? We have the feeling Beca's doing this because of you."

"I don't know what you heard, Stacie, but I haven't done anything to Beca." At least, not intentionally.

"And that's the problem right there. Beca won't tell us anything. But she's been on too many drinking sprees and crazy stuff, and it's getting a little...alarming. We've been doing our best to keep an eye on her. But sometimes even Jesse can't catch up."

You stay quiet for a long time, unsure what to say, until Stacie finally breaks the silence. "It might not even be about you. But Beca thinks highly of you, Aubrey. You roughed through Chloe's departure together. She trusts you and she'll talk to you."

You shake your head. "Beca only listens to Chloe."

"That's not true. And Chloe is our last resort – Beca specifically said not to bother her. Aubrey, you've been gone four days. Where are you anyway?" Stacie's tone was pleading. "Jesse and I can pick you up."

"I don't think so." You look at your suitcase, tucked neatly beside the nightstand. "I'm in Baltimore."


Four days ago

"I'll call you back," is what you only say to Chloe before rushing out to the kitchen, desperately emptying the contents of your stomach into the sink. You wash up and bury your face in your hands, still replaying Beca's exit in your mind.

The moment you hear Stacie and Fat Amy's cars leaving (you distinctly hear Beca telling them the two of you weren't coming) you go back to your room, dig out your smallest suitcase from under the bed, and systematically pack a week's worth of clothes. You spend the next hour on your laptop. You make a couple of phone calls and print some papers. You pull out the purse you particularly use for traveling and double-check its contents before tossing it next to your suitcase.

Ten minutes later you're starting the engine of your Prius. The apartment is quiet when you walk out, Beca having locked herself in Chloe's room. Halfway to the airport you give in to the awful guilt plaguing you. You pull into the nearest safe-looking parking lot and call Stacie.

"Aubrey!" You assume she's still at the Treblemakers' party, judging by the thumping bass in the background. "Ha, they all come to Stacie Conrad in the end."

You chuckle dryly, some of the tension leaving your body. "Keep dreaming, Stacie."

"I will. And you'll be naked in them every time."

"Jesus."

"No biting reprimands today, I see," Stacie notes, her voice immediately changing from playfully seductive to serious. "Are you okay?"

"No. There's something urgent I have to do. I'll be gone for a few days," you say. "Can you keep an eye on Beca?"

Stacie's immediately up to the task, asking no questions. "Of course," she answers, concern clear in her voice. "I hope everything goes well for you. We can feed Beca beer, right?"

"Suit yourself. Thanks, Stacie."


Present

And so here you are in Baltimore, four days after your French exit. You check in at the first hotel your kindly cabbie recommended. You coop up in your room the first few days. You ignore all calls and messages because none of them came from Beca and Chloe, the two people who have unconsciously snared you into the trap of caring for someone other than yourself.

You lounge on the bed channel-surfing, too drained to open the blinds or the lights. You order room service but barely eat. Your phone rings and it's either Jesse or Stacie. You throw the phone across the room and puke clear bile on the sink.

The third afternoon you finally go out and buy an armful of novels, nervously looking around because suddenly your worst fear next to vomiting in public would be to see a vivacious, inevitable (in your thoughts, at least) blue-eyed redhead in the street. You chortle at the irony of going to Baltimore just to avoid Chloe Beale. Grand Canyon or Hawaii would have been nice this time of the year, you muse. More and more it seems like my id is taking over. You brush your Freudian thoughts aside and try to spend your time reading Hemingway and Miller instead, quietly gathering your wits.

You're almost doing okay this afternoon. You ate a plate of risotto and took a long shower. You were reading Sexus in bed when your phone rang. For some reason it wasn't broken after your fit of anger two days ago, lying behind the television. You retrieved it and your heart skipped a beat upon seeing Beca's name onscreen. It's enough to make your resolve slowly but surely fade away.

If it had really been Beca, you might have gone insane.

Your phone rings again, five minutes after hanging up on Jesse. This time you don't even glance at the screen, already knowing who it is. "Aubrey Posen –"

"Bree," Chloe interrupts, and her voice is surprisingly gentle, soothing. "Jesse called me. Where are you?"

"Marriot Waterfront."

"Okay. Can we have dinner? I can meet you in two hours."

You don't know what you were thinking when you bought that last-minute ticket to Baltimore. But as you feel the last of your rationality slipping away, you decide that it's the worst idea ever. "Chloe, I don't think..."

"Please?" You could almost see Chloe pouting.

"I don't...I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything. I just want to see you, Bree. We don't have to talk. Please?"

You glance at your wristwatch. Six p.m. You have two hours to prepare your spiel.

"Fine. But I mean it, Chloe, I don't know what to tell you."

"'It's fine. But 'I love you' would be nice," Chloe replies, rather casually. "I love you, Bree."

She says it without malice – with very pure intent, in fact – that you couldn't help but feel guiltier about Beca. "I know. I love you too."


By the time Chloe meets you in the bar near your hotel, you've downed numerous shots of your favorite liquid courage – tequila.

And you've also filled eight pages of a yellow legal pad with writing that increasingly grew more erratic the longer you hunched on your barstool.

Someone taps your shoulder while you're staring moodily at your glass. You turn around and there's Chloe – red-haired, blue-eyed, wearing that frank smile you missed seeing. You immediately take note of how skinny she'd become. Her hair is less sleek and curly than usual, a sure sign she'd been neglecting to style it as of late. You make a mental note to tell Beca before you remember why you're here.

You realize you've been staring at Chloe for a full minute, and you stand so fast you almost stumble. But Chloe takes your arm to keep you steady, pulls you towards her, and holds you close with a loud sigh.

You resign yourself completely in her arms, hugging her back and drawing her impossibly closer.

"I missed you," Chloe breathes out somewhere in the nape of your neck. "I missed you so much."

You only nod, because there's suddenly a lump in your throat that could only be caused by an equal mix of nerves and guilt and – strangely – an overwhelming sense of devotion for this ginger clutching you tightly. You stifle a sob and inhale a lungful of Chloe's heady lavender scent.

Chloe smells something else. "Liquid courage?" she asks, releasing you with a frown. She knows perfectly well that you drink tequila only during extreme situations. You desperately try to pull her towards you again, but she firmly holds your shoulders. "This is so not how I envisioned seeing you again, Bree."

The bartender who has been watching you worriedly for the past hour saunters over. "Figures that you two are friends," he says to Chloe with a grin. "You're the only two ladies I've met who can out-drink me."

"Shut up, Cole," Chloe says, flashing the guy a half-smile. She turns to you. "I've been drinking here since I arrived in Baltimore," she explains. You notice how her smile is a little hesitant, her eyes guarded and cheerless as she recalls her first few days in the new you and Beca were trying to hold on to some semblance of faith back in Atlanta, Chloe was fighting the worst kind of hell – the hell of being alone, knowing nobody and knowing you can't turn back to your previous life because you ran away in the first place. "By the fourth afternoon Cole already had my drink list memorized."

"Draft beer, rum and coke, and then scotch on the rocks when you're weeping like crazy?" Cole shakes his head. "That's not very hard, Chloe. Except on your liver."

You merely look at Chloe, too light-headed to reprimand her even when you know you should. But Chloe only puts an arm around you. "I don't think you'll get through dinner." She leaves some twenties on the bar and starts leading you out, and you remember to grab your legal pad before she steers you towards your hotel.

Once the two of you are in your hotel room, seated beside each other on the bed without actually touching, Chloe speaks.

"Bree, I know I said we don't have to talk, but you could at least show me you remember my name."

You haven't spoken one word since meeting her. You meet her anxious blue eyes. Why she's so tense, even when both of you know you're at fault, is beyond you. "Chloe..."

"Yay, you do remember me!" Chloe must have seen a change in your expression, because she finally leans – albeit hesitantly – on your shoulder. It obviously took her a huge amount of effort to restrict her touchy-feeliness, and there's a pang inside you because even when she has all the right to be angry, Chloe's still putting your feelings first.

"Chloe." Your voice catches from the amount of tequila you had, and you try again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I didn't mean what I said about stealing Beca away from you. You're my best friend, and it would go against my personal code of honor to do such a thing."

She laughs, not moving from her position, the sound hollow in your ear. "Right."

"You don't sound convinced."

"Well, convince me."

You straighten the yellow papers still grasped tightly in your hand, and read them in the steadiest voice you can manage.

"First, I am a person of my word. I have proven this to you within a span of almost five years of friendship. Second, there's Major James Alastair Posen, who will surely find Beca unfit for me. Third, there's the pressing issue of Beca being in love with you. This leads us to my fourth point – that hence, pursuing Beca would be ridiculous, not to mention futile. Fifth, going after Beca will be a blow to my reputation I can never recover from. It will cement my image as a heartless bitch, who had the guts to steal Beca away from you. People will surely sympathize with you, given that everybody loves you. Sixth, because everybody loves you, they will go to lengths to protect you. And it will most likely involve hurting me. Which is something people do on a regular basis, only the backlash would be much worse and I particularly fear Lilly's retribution. Seventh –"

Chloe finally stirs, but only to knock your papers to the carpet.

"Fine, Aubrey. You've given this so much thought."

You hold back the protest you're longing to utter, instead waiting for her to go on.

"So now that you've established you're never going after Beca...what if Beca pursues you?"

You shake your head disbelievingly, and Chloe straightens to face you. "What the hell, Chloe? Don't you trust Beca?"

"I do," Chloe says simply. "But I'm posing a hypothetical question."

You say nothing, because nothing in this world would make Beca think you're better than your best friend.

"Bree."Chloe's expression is strangely placid, which you couldn't understand, because the only logical reaction in this kind of situation is to freak out.

"No! It's not going to happen, even in my dreams. Beca is my parallel line. I will always seek her out, and we will always be side-by-side, but we'll never meet. I have already accepted that."

"Have you?" Chloe's eyes stare intently into yours. Her perceptiveness has always been one of her best characteristics, but you hate it so much right now.

"Well..." You finally throw up your hands in a gesture of surrender. "No."

Chloe reaches over and picks up your papers, then stretches out on her back, reading the pages one by one. You feel your face getting red. But you stay on your spot at the edge of the bed, looking anywhere but at her.

After a long while, the bed shifts. Chloe's suddenly behind you. She wraps you in her arms and gently maneuvers you until you're both lying side-by-side on the bed, facing each other.

You're not aware what expression you're wearing – in all honesty, you barely care in your almost-inebriated state – but it's hard to escape the sly, oddly hopeful smile Chloe is wearing.

"Bree." She holds out a hand to stroke your cheek, and you close your eyes and lean into the touch, immediately sighing at the contact. This is the Chloe that you know – the one who always had to be touching you. "Are you aware that you wrote 1,216 justifications why you and Beca can't be together?"

You frown but refrain from opening your eyes. "Yes."

"Well, are you aware that you wrote this?"

You finally open your eyes. Chloe's brandishing one of the papers in front of you. You follow where her index finger is pointing and feel your face turn even redder. It read, 89. I love you.

Chloe flips to another page, points out another item, and then goes on to the next page. And the next page. And the next after that.

146. I miss you so much. Too much, sometimes.

214. I think of you and Beca at an equal and such an alarmingly high rate.

373. When I think of being with Beca I immediately and reflexively think of being with you.

482. I will never do anything to lose you.

611. I love you. I mentioned this back there somewhere, but it needs reiteration. I love you.

You look back at Chloe, speechless. Her secretive smile has turned even more radiant in the interim, like she had the key to all the questions running through your mind.

"That's just the first four pages, Bree. I haven't even showed you the rest," she comments, seeing your apparently-bewildered expression. "You do remember writing these, right?"

You shake your head a fraction of an inch, disarmed by that glint appearing in her eye – the same glint you saw right before you panicked, called Stacie, and started your stupid fuckfest a month ago.

"But you wrote this?"

You close your eyes and nod yes. It's definitely in your neat handwriting, although you couldn't recall how your mind drifted there – to that place where you were hiding all your inappropriate feelings for people you couldn't bear to lose. Fucking A, Aubrey. First you declare you want Beca and now you're writing little love notes to Chloe. There's no winning this keep-your-shit-to-yourself thing.

Chloe's mild chuckle shakes you out of your thoughts.

"Apparently someone's subconscious is smitten with me."

You open your eyes, expecting Chloe's face to be mocking, judgmental, or – even worse – indifferent. But as usual, Chloe never fails to amaze you. She's beaming – actually beaming, the kind that she does when she's about to get affectionate – and it's one of your most favorite sights in the world, more than sunsets and old cathedrals and anything else.

"This is not just some dumb infatuation, Chloe," you finally breathe out. Chloe's so close you could count the long, delicate lashes framing her cerulean eyes. You've always known Chloe to be beautiful, but at this close proximity she's even more breathtaking it makes your chest hurt. Or maybe it's your heart banging wildly against your ribs. Either way, Chloe is the cause.

"I know," Chloe says quietly. She shifts her hand from stroking your cheek to cupping your chin. "And you should know better than fight this, Bree."

That smile again. It's sending you through the most complex of feelings – bold and nervous and thrilled and breathless and just... I feel like I'm on fire. And there's only one inevitable thing that can douse the flame.

You close the exasperatingly wide gap between you and Chloe, and the moment your lips touch you instantly know you were, for once in your life, mistaken. For the sensations coursing through you only serve to fan the flames; when Chloe finally responds, with a little sigh, the fire becomes pleasurable all at once.

No power, no passion, would compare to this kiss.

There's a dull, haunting ringing in your ears that just makes you clutch Chloe closer to your body. You're barely aware of holding on to her, wrapping her possessively in one arm while your hand reaches out behind her graceful neck. Chloe can drag you away right here, right now, to anywhere she pleases and you'd barely care because her lips promise mystery and freedom and all those wild, scary things in your life you've always wanted to do but never had the courage for.

The kiss ends too soon and it takes all of your willpower not to cry at the loss of contact. Chloe opens her eyes and there's a new clarity in them – one that you only saw once before, when she told you that she and Beca are finally together. But the kiss, for you, does the opposite. It confuses you. It makes you question things. Like how every other kiss you've had before it pales in comparison. Like how you suddenly realize you've wanted to kiss Chloe for a long time. Like how you just crossed some sort of barrier – an entire fucking sea, even – and this girl is waiting on the other end. And you can't imagine living the rest of your life without her.

But you're mostly bothered because you remember you want Beca as well. You want to make out with her in the couch, walk hand-in-hand with her in the street, make her breakfast. And yet within the span of ten minutes, your body has activated this hunger for Chloe that would never go away ever again.

"I don't...I don't know what I'm doing," you finally say.

Chloe only shakes her head. "We don't have to talk about this tonight, Bree. You're not exactly sober. Let's do this tomorrow, 'kay?"

You nod quietly, and she pulls you to snuggle against her, your head on her chest.

"Whatever is it we figure out, remember that I love you."

You tilt your head to face her, the sweetest person you've ever known, and you could only manage another nod.


You wake up to the familiar scent of lavenders and the feeling that you can never ever leave Chloe's arms. Even in sleep the redhead clung to you fiercely, her hands pulling you to her body, spooning you comfortably. You slowly turn around to face her. Chloe's breathtaking. And, as of six in the morning, you have her all by yourself.

You luxuriate in her presence, in the way she slept, the quiet rise and fall of her chest, her lips slightly apart in that alluring way only Chloe Beale effortlessly does. The moment your eyes rest on her lips, you know you've made a fatal mistake. Your heart is throbbing painfully just thinking of the way they felt against yours. You've never felt like you have no choice until this moment – a Posen must always have a backup plan – until Chloe took you to cross this gulf, and for once in your life, you can never go back.

You have to taste her lips. Now.

You take Chloe's face gently in your hands, careful not to wake her, and inch forward. Somewhere in your mind is a faint voice shouting this is bad. This is me losing control. This is me finally succumbing to an addiction. This is me on a downward spiral. You close your eyes, barely even breathing, and then – contact.

This kind of high, you can never replace. What you meant to be a soft, quick peck quickly turns into hungry, prolonged kisses you can't manage to stop. Chloe stirs, her arms slightly tensing around you as she gathers her sleepy thoughts. Then she smiles and kisses you back, exploratory at first, and then increasing in fervor until you both have to stop out of prolonged breathlessness.

"What a lovely person to wake up to," Chloe purrs, pressing her forehead against yours.

You're suddenly ashamed of your brazen actions. "I'm sorry, I really couldn't help –"

But Chloe only holds a finger to your lips. "Don't. Don't ever apologize, because all I want to hear is that you want this as much as I do."

You're quiet for a moment. "Chloe, you know very well I can't want you. Everything my father doesn't approve of, I can never have."

A shadow passes over Chloe's face. "Like what?"

"Like that offer from Juilliard. That graduate student program in Japan. My mother's affection. Should I keep going? Because I am not losing you and Beca over something as petty as my feelings."

Chloe shakes her head. "Bree, your feelings always mattered so much to me."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you're reciprocating them –" and then it hits you, when Chloe's expressive eyes suddenly look frustrated, what she was trying to say. "What?! But you have Beca! Why would my feelings matter this much to you? Are you kissing me just because –"

"You're over thinking this." Chloe laughs, and you just know it's because of the heated flush on your face. "You're worried because that kiss wasn't exactly how you envisioned our reunion would be. But it's okay. In fact, it's more than okay. I've always known you're inevitable."

It's her lackadaisical attitude that sets you off. "Why aren't you panicking about this? I am in love with your girlfriend, and for some twisted reason, I'm in love with you too. You're my best friend, Chloe! This is mind-fucking me in ways you couldn't even begin to imagine! And you – all you have to say is that I'm inevitable?"

"Can you please calm down?"

The two of you are quiet for a while, with you breathing heavily, trying to control your gag reflex. Chloe watches you until she deems you're pacified enough to hear her out.

"This is scaring me too, and I hope that's enough for you," Chloe says quietly. "You know how I've loved you all this time. But then came Beca, and I thought being with her would make me the happiest girl in the world. And I am. Beca's wonderful. But somehow, I still see you. You were unhappy with Jesse, but you were trying so hard I didn't dare stop you. Then Jesse left and you went to pieces. Suddenly my blissful life with Beca isn't enough, because I had to see you happy as well. I don't know how to make this work, and I'm probably explaining this all wrong, but I can make you happy." Her eyes bear down on yours, and it takes all of your willpower to hold her gaze. "If I'm mistaken, say it straight to my face, Bree. Say it, and I'll drop this subject forever."

"I can't have two people at once. And neither can you. In the first place, I can't want a woman! I'm a Posen –"

"Aubrey Posen, do you love me?"

Chloe spits out the question so curtly, it sends shivers up your spine. You're suddenly drained of whatever pretense you were trying to keep. "Yes."

"Then stop making sorry excuses for yourself! You're a grown woman. You can't keep repressing your feelings unless you want to end up like your father." You cringe inwardly at the thought, and Chloe notices, because her expression softens and she starts caressing your arm with one hand. "Look, I know this is very confusing right now. But all I ask is this: please make a decision that isn't based on your family name, for once. I don't care when, or where it will lead, but promise me you'll really think about this. You are my person and I want nothing more than to see you happy. You never let opportunities slide. This is an opportunity. Don't let this slide."

You nod wordlessly, filing the words safely in your mind for further consideration.

"And until you decide, don't breathe a word to Beca. I believe you love her as much as I do, so you know that despite her snarky attitude, it takes very little to make her run. Even after a year she still can't understand how people can love her. She'll panic, she'll shut herself away –"

"Beca knows." Just speaking her name makes your chest constrict again. "The day you called me...I didn't know she was there, and she heard everything."

Chloe sits up so fast you feel your own body bounce on the mattress by the movement. She looks at you with wide eyes. "Aubrey, why is this not the first thing you told me when we met?! I knew you didn't just come here out of the blue to see me!"

Confounded by her reaction, you only manage to blink, your hand gestures trying to make up for your loss of words. "I'm – I'm surprised Beca didn't tell you."

"Ever since I left Atlanta, Beca hasn't been telling me a lot of things. And I don't hold it against her, because I betrayed her. She will not be telling me things for a long time."

"But you're staying together. You must have promised her a happy ending. You – "

Chloe sighs. "Yes, but I've been her girlfriend for just a year, Aubrey. People have been leaving her all her life, and that's a long enough time for her to build walls around herself. I've barely even broken through half her defenses." She chuckles bitterly, the sound making you incredibly sad. "I left knowing she'll always love me, but that I risked losing what precious little trust she had. And I was right. Our reunion was both happy and miserable. She's affectionate one moment and guarded the next; it was hard to breathe around her. When I prodded, she cut me off. She's used to resolving everything on her own before she had me. And the past month, that's the only thing she's been doing."

You clear your throat. "She's...from what I've heard from Stacie, she's not resolving it very well."

"It's typical of Beca. She runs, she broods, she drinks and plays Nintendo all day, and she ignores what's in front of her until it goes away." Chloe returns to your side again and takes your hand in hers. "If Beca knows, this changes things. You love her. And I can't – I can't just let her run from you. I'll call her –"

"Chloe."

The ginger falls silent at your firm tone.

"I'm sorry to hear about you and Beca. But until I decide, I want you to stay out of whatever drama Beca and I are having –"

"Bree, you know very well you're not fixing anything with Beca if you stay here. You're now one of those people who left her too –"

"She ran away from me!"

"Yes, but she didn't go all the way to Baltimore and lock herself in a dark hotel room for five days! Please listen to me." You couldn't bear to disappoint those pleading blue eyes, and so you heed her. "I left Beca, and we patched things up as well as we could, but we can't really move forward because we're too far apart. But you – you're underestimating how much Beca trusts you. You are perfectly capable of keeping her with you. But I have to see you try. Only then can I promise not to meddle."

You take a deep breath, carefully chewing over her words. But all you can think about is I'm now one of those people who left. There's a silence that follows, and you remember Jesse's phone call, and your world suddenly spins at the thought of Beca possibly pining for you. "Chloe, I – I left her. She'll never trust me again. And I'll never have a chance to show her how much I care. She –" you find yourself sobbing before you could finish the thought, and Chloe immediately embraces you, kissing the top of your head.

"Again, you're over thinking this, Bree."

You sniff in response, trying to control your blubbering.

"Beca may be a flight risk, but it doesn't mean she's not forgiving. If you return and apologize, you'll find that she'll give you more chances than you could ask for. Beca has very few people in her life. You're one of them – of us. And she'll fight tooth and nail to keep you. She just has to see you trying."

You finally manage keep your emotions in check. "I will not just try. I'm a Posen. I'll make this right."

"We'll make this right." She breaks off from the hug to gently brush your tears away. "For the record, I'm sorry for leaving without explanation."

"I accept, and I'm sorry for – for being such a bitch." You barely restrain another sob, and Chloe smiles.

"Would a kiss make you feel better?"

You only let out a watery chuckle. But Chloe kisses you anyway, a light one in the lips that seemed all too brief.

"I want more," you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

"So do I, but we need to get breakfast," Chloe murmurs, tucking stray locks of hair behind your ear.

"No. I mean, can I – can I spend more time with you before I go back to Atlanta?"

At this, Chloe beams. "Bree, you never have to ask."