Day 1, Tasmania

Stacie offered martinis as soon as the seatbelt sign stopped flashing. Everyone onboard had one except Aubrey, who hasn't moved from her seat since takeoff.

"That's where we're going."

Amy pointed out the window. Outside was an endless panel of blue. Then Beca saw an isolated speck of green and white beneath them, growing larger until she recognized a beach.

"Damn, dude," Stacie gasped. "I knew you were loaded, but not this much."

Amy shrugged. "We're comfy."

"That's literally what every rich person says." Chloe appeared behind them, bouncing unsteadily on her toes. Beca suspected she was on Xanax; Aubrey discreetly kept a close watch on everything Chloe did, which only confirmed it. "Stace, would you say you're rich?"

"I'm made of money, babe. Living on cereal a week before payday is just a hobby."

"That's not good. Bree, would you say you're rich?"

"It's not polite to talk about money," Aubrey replied, gaze fixed on her in-flight magazine.

"Em, would you say you're rich?"

Emily was taking pictures from another window, brows furrowed. "Oops. What?"

"Would you say you're rich?"

"I…don't know? Mom takes care of my money."

"Smart. Becs, obviously you own a jet, so would you –"

"No one likes this game, Chlo." The seatbelt sign pinged at that moment. "Sit down."

"Beca doesn't want anyone spilling anything on her precious jet," Stacie teased. "We once had to make an emergency landing in Florida – Florida – 'cause Luke broke a cologne bottle."

"I'm fine," Chloe insisted. "I'm fine. I'm a surgeon. God, Bree, tell 'em."

Before Beca could catch Aubrey's reply, The Bebop's pilot, Richard, announced mechanically throughout the cabin: "Satellite Island in ten minutes. Brace yourselves, ladies."

"'What does he mean, 'brace yourselves'?" Stacie asked, strapping herself next to Beca.

Beca had been to Satellite Island before, so she could actually answer this question. "It's always a rough landing. Because of the crosswind."

"Oh." Stacie leaned over her, looking out the window. "Damn, babe, can we actually climb those cliffs?"

"Sure. Wanna catch the sunrise there tomorrow?"

"Aww, you spoil me."

Stacie, Chloe and Emily gasped over everything: the powder-white sand, the oyster-covered shores, the summer bungalow on the hill, the quaint boathouse standing alone in the midst of open sea. Beca had seen it all before, so she merely followed Amy to the boathouse dock.

"Any of these beds taken?"

Amy shook her head. "Pick whatever. You're the last ones to come in."

There were two queen beds; Beca tossed her things on top of the one closest to the edge of the water. Everywhere she looked the waters of Sunset Bay surrounded them. She could run five steps forward and cannonball right into the cove. No one, save for a couple of startled fish, would notice.

Amy headed for the cooler on the far end of the room. From previous experience Beca knew it was stocked with beer. "You don't mind sharing, hot shot?"

"Are you kidding me? It's awesome." Beca didn't want to part with Stacie; the island was too small, shared by few other people she hadn't seen in years, and she needed a buffer.

"Bonzer. My cousin owns the place. She said you've been here before for some sorta bachelor party?"

The truth was Beca met the art rock band Methyl Ethel at a music festival in Hobart, and was promptly invited to take LSD with them on the island. "Right."

"Even got him to throw in chef services." Amy handed her a beer. "Now a few things you need to know fore I go. Always light a fire by late arvo. And your jet – the Beefcake, is it? – is returning for you gals at ten hundred hours on Saturday."

"The Bebop," Beca corrected with a yawn. "I'm shit with scheduling, Ames. Can't you talk to someone else about this?"

"Who?"

"I dunno – Aubrey? She still has that type-A personality thing going."

"Nah, B. El Capitan's got heaps on her plate." Amy opened another cooler and tipped the contents for Beca to look at. A lobster took up most of the space, limbs still waving sedately.

"Her drongo fiance cheated on her," Amy said offhandedly, closing the lid. "Nobody's saying anything but I reckon she's devo about it."

"Dude, I didn't understand any of that."

"Which part?"

Beca drank her beer. "Forget it."

When Beca roused herself from an impromptu nap, Amy was nowhere in sight.

"I just can't."

"Why?"

"Because there are no walls!"

"Bree, come on! This is the awesomest hotel room ever!"

"Yes, it's all fun and games until you freeze to death, or fall off the deck without anyone noticing."

"Will you stop being such an alarmist and appreciate this for one second?"

"It could happen!"

The dialogue was distant, but not enough that Beca couldn't hear Chloe practically pouting in her response: "We're not moving."

"Hey guys!" a third voice announced brightly – Stacie, completely missing the tension in the room. She must have just walked in. "Have you seen this lobster Amy said –" she abruptly trailed off, and for a while there was only terse silence.

Beca coughed as loud as she could. Three heads turned in her direction. Stacie's eyes met hers, and the taller brunette visibly exhaled.

"Oh, there you are! Wanna go –"

"–hang out in the summer house?" Beca finished, scrambling off the bed. She was just as eager to get away from Chloe and Aubrey.

"What's that all about?" Stacie asked, once they were out of hearing range.

"Who knows?"

Beca was glad to find out Cynthia Rose was staying in the other house, as well as Emily, Lilly, Ashley, Jessica, and Flo, who joined the Bellas after Beca left college.

The hours before dinnertime were spent arguing the finer points of Cynthia Rose's fourth solo single, which was due for release next month. Beca and Stacie were unanimously in praise of the hooks. Ashley and Jessica likened it to a Mary J. Blige track. Emily felt like it could use more post-production, specifically by Beca. Flo couldn't relate to it at all.

Their spirited discussion was finally broken by Chloe and Aubrey's appearance. The two seemed to have resolved their housing argument – and, going by Chloe's chipper grin as she bounded towards them, she must have won.

"What are you guys fighting about?" Chloe asked, taking Stacie's glass and pouring herself some wine.

Cynthia Rose gamely explained the single at hand, and then replayed the track from her portable Bose speakers. "What do you think?"

"It needs more soul," Chloe said. "Rap songs nowadays don't contain enough soul. Right, Bree?"

"There is a lot of posturing," Aubrey said. "I find 'downed enough drinks to fuck any white chicks' very crass. What are you trying to say there?"

For the first time in the past hour, Cynthia Rose didn't scoff at the critique. "It just mean I'm drunk enough to sleep with the it girls."

"Do you reallly want to have that reputation? You know more gospel songs than everyone here combined."

"It's all aspirational, man. You know Beca's thing in On Fire, where she and Drake lay enough pussy to build an empire? I'm saying I can live like that."

All nine women around the table stared at Beca. On Fire, her single with Drake, has been a point of contention to everyone involved even before its equally-controversial release. Drake wrote plenty of sexist lyrics. She refused to produce the song until he toned them down. It escalated to a shouting match with Keegan, and she was finally forced to defer so the collaboration could be released in time for Residual Heat's twentieth anniversary.

"Come on, Cy," she chuckled dismissively. "On Fire is all artistic license."

"Not really, Zoe K is always saying you –" Beca gave Emily what she hoped was an almost-imperceptible shake of the head. Emily instantly trailed off.

"Zoe K?" Chloe prompted, wide-eyed. "As in Zoe Kravitz?"

"I love it when you show up in her IG stories!" Jessica exclaimed.

"Oh my god, did you guys see the one where Beca was hanging out with her and Childish Gambino?" Flo asked excitedly.

Beca sighed, uneasy with the direction the conversation was taking. She figured people would eventually comment on the elephant in the room – namely her success as STOKR – but she didn't count on it being brought up in front of everyone, along with the unsavory parts of her work she wasn't keen on addressing.

"Do you often use artistic license to justify misogyny?" Aubrey remarked, addressing Beca for the very first time.

"That's Drake's album," Beca answered coolly. "Nothing about my personal music justifies misogyny."

"But you are fine producing it for other people."

The table had gone completely silent.

"If I fought for a rewrite of all the sexist lyrics that comes across my studio – which I assure you I did for On Fire – I'd be out of business."

"It is exactly that self-serving attitude that enables sexism."

"Dude, if I take your logic and apply it to your job, you're enabling racism – and only because you're also trying to make bank instead of working immigrant cases full-time. How about that?"

"Okay, you guys," Chloe interrupted, attempting to smooth over the tension. "You're both super woke, you make really good points –"

"– and you should go get a room," Stacie finished nonchalantly.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Can we all agree that no one here is actively enabling sexism?"

Everyone nodded. "I'll replace the line," Cynthia Rose said.

"Good," Aubrey said, still sounding miffed. "It is not impressive."

"You know what's really impressive?" Lilly piped up, voice barely clearing a whisper.

Cynthia Rose sighed. "What, Lil?"

"Scalps."

Day 2

"Are sunrises really this early?" Stacie groaned.

"...they don't happen past five a.m."

"They do in Iceland."

"Are you coming or not?"

Stacie made a show of yawning, but she followed Beca on the dark path up the summer house. A weathered pickup truck – the only vehicle in the island – awaited them in the garage, keys already in the ignition. The half-hour drive to the top of the cliffs was spent in silence. Stacie immediately fell asleep on the bundle of blankets she stripped off their bed. Beca steered, eyes resolutely fixed on the narrow forest path ahead, barely penetrated by the dim headlights.

The sky was turning light just as Beca parked. Before them was a cliff with a fifty-foot drop; the vista past it was a stunning three-hundred-and-sixty view of the entire island, shores and all.

"I'm freezing," Stacie complained.

Beca unearthed a fifth of Wild Turkey from the glove compartment.

"Yikes, babe, drinks at dawn?" Stacie grabbed the bottle off her hand, tugging the cork off with her teeth. "What is wrong with you?"

"This is nice."

Beca opened her eyes. Next to her Stacie lay spread-eagled on the ground. The sunrise shrouded them in orange hues; waves crashed somewhere far away, punctuated by the occasional bird call. "Really?"

"Yeah. Aren't you glad I joined your lone-wolf ass here?"

"I am. I'm glad you came, dude."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Stacie took a swig of bourbon. "Is this the part where you're gonna propose?"

"Keep dreaming."

Stacie only laughed.

"You idiots!"

Beca jolted awake. The hot Australian sun burned brightly above her; she put her hand up, seeing bright spots behind them.

"Do you have any idea how much–" A strong gust of wind cut off the next words – "absolutely insane, wandering off to some godforsaken hill without telling anyone?!"

Stacie groaned somewhere to her left. "Shh."

"Why does it look like Jonestown in here?!"

Beca tried to sit, bile rising in her throat. She finally managed to get up on all fours, only to collapse face-first on the ground. The grass felt like a million fiery pinpricks burning her skin. Christ, how long have they been here? Hands grabbed her shoulders, rolling her onto her back. And then Aubrey was looming over her: blonde hair windswept, face pinched in exasperation.

"We went to see the sunrise," Beca said hoarsely. "What's the problem?"

"Are you even…" Aubrey crossed her arms. For a moment they stared at each other, the blonde's cheeks flushing. "Get up," she finally snapped.

"My face hurts," Stacie complained.

"You are sunburnt from sleeping in the open." Aubrey narrowed her eyes at the empty bourbon bottle between them. "Get up! We are leaving."

Beca padded to Stacie, propping her up after a grumbled exchange of curses and protests. Aubrey made no move to help out; instead she stalked her way to the pickup truck. When Beca finally hoisted Stacie onto the back seat the blonde was gunning the engine.

"I'm driving," Beca said.

"Absolutely not."

"Can you even drive stick?"

"Can you even drive drunk?"

"Hey, why are we leaving?" Stacie mumbled, recognizing the situation for the first time. "It's nice here. Shouldn't we live here?"

"I told Chloe to call the coast guard if you were still at large by noon." Aubrey glared at Beca. "By all means, linger. It's only past one."

Beca sheepishly climbed into the passenger seat. Aubrey eased the truck onto the forest path.

"Put on your seatbelt," Aubrey growled.

"How did you even get here?"

"I hiked."

Beca blinked. "You hiked…for an hour…in this heat?"

"It wouldn't be the most irresponsible thing that happened today."

Beca wanted to point out that disappearing for half a day was barely cause for alarm, but she had heard Aubrey speak in that over-enunciated tone before. It was the one she used in college whenever she accused Beca of purposefully messing up – Aubrey's I'm sure I'm right tone, Chloe once called it, and nothing anyone said could convince her otherwise.

Jesus Christ, Beca's head hurt.

"Jeez, Aubrey, can you be any more uptight?" Stacie hiccuped and resumed her doped-out grin. "You even getting laid or what?"

Beca literally felt her face blanch.

She didn't dare look, but right now she would kill to see if Aubrey was doing the same.

"Honey, if you are, there's no need to be ashamed! I'm a hell of a wingman. I've hooked up Beca from Atlanta to Ibiza, you know. If you need any help…"

Aubrey's silence was ominous. Beca glanced at the dash, feeling the truck speed up as Aubrey maneuvered downhill. Stacie wisely shut up after that.

Stacie's sunburn turned out to be nothing life-threatening. Even so Beca was compelled to hover as Chloe applied aloe vera jelly on Stacie's sore spots, making cooing sounds.

"She's fine, right?"

Chloe's response was to smack Beca in the back of the head.

"What the hell?!"

"That's for doing whatever you please without telling anyone. This is Australia, Becs. Duh."

Stacie stuck her tongue out at Beca, only to get the same slap.

"And that's for leaving your phones. Everyone was worried."

"Really? 'Cause Aubrey seemed about ready to drive us off the cliff."

Beca snorted.

"Don't take this personally, Chlo-bear," Stacie continued, "but Beca and I never tell anyone where we go ever."

"That's a stupid thing you need to change, stat." Chloe crossed her arms. "Now go thank Aubrey, because if you stayed in the sun one more hour, this –" she gestured at Stacie's face – "would be mincemeat. You'd be wearing a veil to Amy's wedding."

Stacie grimaced. "I'm a grown-ass woman, Disney Face."

"Mm-hmm."

"So the whole thanking thing with El Capitan? Not gonna happen."

"But you know you should," Chloe's eyes were earnest.

"This is college all over again," Stacie protested.

"You're the one calling her El Capitan."

The wave bobbed her up and down in little gurgles.

It was like being in an indoor swimming pool, only the endless navy horizon in front of her was too wide, and too bright, and there was a shore, and a deer, and Chloe was feeding it from cupped hands.

"Am I high?" Beca heard herself ask.

"No, dumbass, you're at sea."

Stacie grinned next to her. Beca remembered where she was: a shared flamingo pool float off a cove in the Tasman Sea.

Beca stretched, wincing at the popping sound of her own spine. "How long have we been here?"

"I don't know? You're a really deep sleeper."

Beca reached for a cigarette. The smoke rings rose in the still air, dissipating into the sun. Sweat pooled in her bikini top. The humidity felt at odds with the beautiful scenery, the discomfort almost claustrophobic; it took her another cigarette before she was able to relax and accept this as her new reality.

"Should I do it?" Stacie asked.

"Do what?"

Stacie jerked her head at shore. Past the others roughhousing in lifejackets, Aubrey sat on the deck, playing cards with Chloe and Emily. All three had intense looks on their faces.

"Talk," Stacie clarified, shifting enough to make the pool float bob. "To the girls."

"For what?"

Stacie shrugged. "'When you really think about it, it's dumb to climb a cliff without telling anyone."

"What is this, high school? You don't have to talk to anyone."

"Yeah. But I wanna be invited to the next weddings, y'know?"

Beca sighed.

"You don't have to come." Then Stacie chuckled. "Aubrey's still really hard on you, huh?"

"I don't care," Beca lied, before kicking Stacie off the float.

"Okay, jeez. I'll go."

That was how Stacie ended up seated next to Aubrey all evening.

Beca sipped her whiskey and watched them with great trepidation. From what she could hear across the dinner table Stacie had already made plans to visit Storm King with Chloe and Aubrey, as well as promised to teach them hip-hop dance at her work studio.

Stacie and Chloe reconnecting? All well and dandy, and something Beca saw coming. But Stacie and Aubrey?

"I'm going to bed," she announced. Chloe, who was narrating a hilarious run-in with Sarah Jessica Parker, was immediately concerned.

"But it's nine." She reached over to feel Beca's forehead with the back of her hand. "You look pale, are you okay?"

"My head hurts." It wasn't a lie; the dull headache she had been nursing all afternoon had only amplified at dinner. The table immediately broke into suggestions.

"I brought aspirin – baby or extra-strength?"

"You should lie down on the couch."

"Fourteen needles from your neck to your zygomatic bone should cure you."

"Let's all hold hands and sing Sana Colita de Rana."

"Aw, babe, I'll take you to bed." Stacie made to stand up, but Beca waved her and everyone off.

"No, please, enjoy the night. I'll be fine."

Day 3

"Are we married?" Stacie asked as she went through Beca's lapels with a lint roller. "This feels super marriage-y."

"You offered to help with the lint roller."

"I don't want anyone else copping a feel on you." Stacie stepped back, admiring her rose quartz suit. Beca had it especially tailored by Armani and was secretly pleased at the reaction it was getting. "Goddamn, babe. You're gonna confuse a lot of sexualities tonight."

Beca chuckled and looked around the Bebop. Most of the Bellas were fast asleep; everyone had been up early to get dressed for the wedding. Stacie looked the best in a body-hugging silk dress with a long slit up the side. It showed off her toned legs, which Beca knew Stacie was particularly proud of. "And you're gonna steal Amy's thunder with that dress."

Stacie flipped her hair coquettishly. "What, this old thing?"

"Nothing about it looks old. Don't make eye contact with the groom, okay?"

"Aww."

"Seriously."

Aside from an unexpected appearance by Bumper, Amy's nuptials went off without a hitch. The groom, Mick, was a boyishly handsome pro surfer who deduced Beca was goofy-footed in five minutes of conversation. Beca found him likeable enough, although she couldn't imagine what else made him special to Amy. He was interchangeable with his tanned, blonde, muscular mates who filled half the church pews during the service.

It didn't stop Stacie from singling out a couple of them and talking Beca's ear off about it on their way to The Henry Jones, where the reception was being held. "Brett's the better surfer, but Tanner's Instagram is more relatable," Stacie observed, stalking both men on her phone as their cab sped to the hotel. "What do you think, babe? What's the move here?"

"They look exactly the same."

"Oh my god, you know what? I can ask them to double-team me."

"That's the spirit," Beca snorted.

A couple of surprises awaited Beca at the reception. First, Amy's family was elite enough to merit the presence of Hugh Jackman and Olivia Newton-John. Second, Kommisar had booked Anderson .Paak and The Free Nationals as a surprise performer on Beca's behalf; she had shared a few billboards with the guy and liked hanging out with him. Even better, Amy turned out to be a huge fan. She practically overturned the table she shared with her new husband as she rushed onstage to hug the rapper.

"Yes lawd, all the way from America!" Anderson laughed off, spotting Beca in the sea of tables and giving her a little salute. The dance floor began to fill as he launched into the opening bars of Come Down. Tanner – or Brett, who knows – came over and invited Stacie to dance. Soon thereafter, only Beca and Aubrey were left at the table.

The rose quartz theme suited Aubrey well. The short tulle dress and flowers bunching up her hair softened her severe demeanor somehow. Beca recalled the unpleasant Aubrey from Satellite Island and found it hard to believe the woman seated across her was the same person. This Aubrey was tapping her fingers along to the music, smiling warmly to herself as Anderson spun Amy into an off-balanced twirl.

In that moment, Beca decided to close the gap.

"Hey."

The smile faded immediately. By the time Aubrey acknowledged the glass Beca placed before her, her expression was flat. "What is that?"

"Wine."

Aubrey pushed it away. "I am done drinking for tonight."

"Right." Beca debated whether to apologize for the misstep, but ultimately decided it wouldn't matter; the past three days Aubrey found any reason to criticize most of the things she did anyway. "Listen. I know what happened..."

Aubrey resolutely kept her gaze fixed onstage.

"…and I'm sorry."

Aubrey glared at her, green eyes narrowed. Beca was painfully aware she was being studied from head to foot – a sensation she never got used to despite worldwide fame.

"Do you often go out of your way to make women feel like bimbos, Beca?"

That was a response Beca genuinely did not expect.

"I don't…"

"You seem to be adept at bribing women just to send them on their way."

Aubrey hardly raised her voice, but her underlying contempt was clear.

"I'm not sure I follow," Beca said.

"I am talking about your black envelope bit, you…" Aubrey crossed her arms, clearly agitated. It took Beca a full two seconds to piece together what it meant.

The drill.

In addition to leaving Aubrey crying in her apartment, she also got the please-leave gift voucher from the butler.

"…oh."

Aubrey continued to glare at her. Anderson .Paak's live version of Dang! swirled and ebbed around them as people danced. Whoever was rapping Mac Miller's parts onstage was doing an incredible job; Beca was sure it was Cynthia Rose, although she didn't dare break eye contact with Aubrey to check.

"I…guess you can add that to my blanket apology."

Aubrey shook her head.

"Even your apologies are dismal."

Any remorse Beca had before that retort instantly evaporated – replaced by anger as raw as it had been the night Aubrey crossed the threshold of her limousine, where the blonde explained to Beca, in no uncertain terms, that she was only there to be used.

"Do you often cry at your one-night stands, Aubrey?"

Aubrey opened her mouth to respond, before closing it again. To Beca it was proof she'd hit a nerve. That little victory of shutting her down for once gave Beca a strange sense of elation, one she wanted to feel over and over again; the past few days had been an exhausting game of civility in the face of Aubrey's constant disdain, and in her head she dared Aubrey to respond, in her usual condescending manner, one more time –

"STOKR!" Anderson called out. "Come up here, man!"

"This song is called Your Heart Don't Stand A Chance."

Anderson thrust the microphone in Beca's hand – to her great surprise – before retreating to the drum set to pound out the track's woozy snare intro. The Free Nationals chanted back, Ooh, champagne, let it fall down…arms, legs wrapped around you…

"I haven't memorized this!" Beca mouthed at Anderson, who flipped her off with a grin before launching into a different backbeat – her cue to sing.

See, I be catchin' you starin', be careful – the idle mind is a dangerous place to be left in, but keep your eyes on me…

The crowd burst into cheers. Across her Anderson was laughing, fueling her confidence on. Your heart don't stand a chance – it feels like it's been far too long…

Your knees can't hold your legs, the wedding party chorused ardently as Beca turned the mic on them. She couldn't help but mirror Anderson's enthusiasm. Established artists like Kanye might find audience participation de rigueur but the energy swept her along every time, even if for her it happened night after night for two hundred nights a year. Your feet just want to pace, the eyes keep me all in a trance, let me ask you –

Would you leave it all in the back of your head, or all in the palm of your hand? Beca picked up, hamming up her hips to the beat and raising another roar from the crowd. Who cared about dismal apologies when she was so fucking famous Anderson .Paak let her sing one of his hit songs by herself? From several yards away Aubrey watched with hollow eyes. Beca made sure the blonde saw her smirking before belting out the next line. Ain't nobody holding you back, don't you feel like it's been far too long?

She knew exactly what to say to Aubrey as soon as she stepped off the stage. People ran up to offer some sort of praise – Amy and Chloe among them – but she barely paused or listened. She was fixated on reaching her table.

She waited until everyone's attention was back onstage to Anderson .Paak before sitting down. "Can I try this again?"

Aubrey lowered her glass. She had ended up drinking the wine Beca brought after all, which Beca took as a good sign.

"I'm sorry. For the dismal apology and everything."

Once again Aubrey was scrutinizing her. Beca hated being examined, always have. Commanding the attention of three thousand people felt like power. Having one person's full attention, especially when it was Aubrey, felt like a deposition.

"You've been really unfair in assuming I sleep around with everyone –"

"You do."

"– but that's cool and all, 'cause I've been in your place before," Beca plodded on, ignoring Aubrey's indelicate objection. "You had something good end up in a dumpster fire, none of your usual fixes seem to work, and you're desperate to let off some steam. I get it."

"You don't –"

"I get it," Beca repeated, rushing over her next words before she lost her bravado. "And I'm tired of holding it against you." She cleared her throat and looked around, but no one was looking at them; Amy and Mick were doing the electric slide in the center of the dance floor as Anderson performed a wild live version of Am I Wrong. "For the record: you're really attractive. And I'm still beating myself up for not asking you over while you were sober."

And she did something she had only seen in movies before: she slipped her hotel key card under Aubrey's wine glass.

Songs used in this chapter:
Anderson .Paak - Heart Don't Stand A Chance

Also did some fixes to italicized words and whatnot because Fanfiction wasn't retaining them before for some reason. I don't know how long til I post another chapter again, but I hope to work on this over Christmas. Happy holidays, I guess?