A/N: Please keep the reviews coming, I really appreciate every single one :)

I do not own Pitch Perfect or any of its characters

Chloe sat on her bed, her knees pulled into her chest, staring across at the empty bed that was once occupied by her brother Michael.

She was ten, and she could hear her parents voices through the thin walls of their compartment.

"He was eighteen years old, Derek," her mother said, her voice shaking with pain and anger. "What was he doing out there?"

"I don't know," her father replied. His voice defeated and broken.

"How are we going to tell Chloe? How are we going to tell her her brother is dead?" Her mother cried.

Chloe choked back a sob.

"You should have stopped him!" Her mother yelled. "You should never have let him sign up!"

"How could I have stopped him?!" Her father yelled back. "He was a grown man, he made his own decisions."

"He was eighteen! He was a boy! My boy!"

Chloe cried, biting into the sleeve of her pyjamas, stifling any noise.

Chloe opened her eyes slowly, and she became aware of two things. Beca's lips moving soundlessly above her, and the intense pain spreading across her abdomen.

The world around her kept shifting. The colours kept fading and then coming back.

Then came the sound.

Voices shouting. Guns firing. Beca pleading.

"Chloe! Chloe, look at me," Beca said, her hand coming to rest on Chloe's cheek. Her hands were covered in blood. Chloe's blood. "Chlo' what do I do?"

Chloe was aware of the red flashing coming from her computer on her arm, and her mouth was full of the metallic taste of blood. She wanted to close her eyes again. She wanted to shut out the noise and the pain.

"Chloe, you have to tell me what to do," Beca said, her voice cracking in desperation.

"You can't... There's nothing," Chloe said, closing her eyes as the pain built.

"No, no, no, come on, Chlo'," Beca said, cupping Chloe's face with both hands. "You're gonna be okay. You're okay, you're okay."

"I'm not," Chloe said. "Beca, you need to go."

"No," Beca said. She took another roll of bandages out of Chloe's medical bag and carried on wrapping them around her waist. She felt Chloe's hand tighten around her wrist.

"Stop," she said. "It's too late."

"I'm not fucking giving up on you, Chloe," Beca said. "I'm gonna patch you up and then we'll get you back to Terram."

"Patch me up?" Chloe said with a small laugh. She tried to lift her head to see the damage but felt immediately dizzy and let it drop back onto the ground. "You aren't going to patch me up, and I won't survive the three hour journey back."

She was tired. She was in pain. She was dying.

"What do you want me to do?" Beca asked, furious tears cutting through the dirt and dried blood on her cheeks. "Just let you die?"

"Yes," Chloe said. She started coughing, her mouth filling with blood again. She finally let a small sob of pain escape her, and her strong facade started to crumble. "It hurts," she choked out.

"It's okay, baby," Beca said, soothingly. She brushed the matted hair from Chloe's face and kissed her cold, clammy forehead. "You're okay."

"I love you, Beca," she said, screwing up her face as the pain built.

"I love you too," Beca said, her voice breaking. "And I'm going to get you out of here, I promise."

"You can't promise that," Chloe said, before her eyes closed and her features relaxed.

"Chloe?" Beca looked at her computer and it registered no hear beat. "Chloe!"

"Beca we need to go," Aubrey said, placing a hand on her shoulder. Beca pulled away, and began shaking her girlfriend.

"Come on, Chlo', don't do this," she said, frantically searching for a sign that Chloe was still there.

But there was nothing.

No pulse. No heartbeat. No breathing.

Nothing.

Chloe was gone.

"Beca," Aubrey said, as Beca sat back, defeated. "Beca we have to go now. We can't fight these off any longer."

Beca looked up across the battlefield, watching as her friends and fellow soldiers tried to hold back the never ending tide of these new creatures.

With nothing but fury and agony in her eyes, she picked up her gun, and joined the fight.

"Beca!"

As the rest of the soldiers started walking backwards, in the direction of the ship, Beca walked forward, into the fray.

She singled out one of the aliens that was by itself, its gun raised towards Fat Amy, and she charged at it, knocking it to the ground.

As it hit the ground, its helmet came off, revealing a face that was, well, human.

It raised its gun again, right at Beca's chest, and she saw two tattooed Xs on its wrists.

A shot was fired and whatever it was, fell back to the ground, dead, hole in its head.

"Beca, move," Fat Amy said, pulling her to her feet. "Time to go, okay?"

"No," Beca said, pulling away, and raising her gun. She started firing, killing indiscriminately.

"It won't bring them back," Amy said, her voice wavering. She put her hand on Becas shoulder and tried to pull her back to the ship. "Come on, Beca."

"No," Beca said again, more firmly.

Other members of the team began pulling Beca back to the ship, and she let herself be taken back, still numb, until her eyes fell on Chloe's body. Then she started struggling.

"I'm not leaving her," she said, fighting against the several pair of hands that were holding her back.

"We can't take her back with us," Aubrey said, fighting to keep her voice calm, as she looked over the dozens of bodies of fallen soldiers that surrounded them. "We can't take any of them back, you know the rules."

As they reached the doorway to the ship, Beca broke free and headed for Chloe. Aubrey flicked a switch on her gun and, after double checking the dial read 'non-lethal', fired at Beca.

It hit her in the back and she went down.

"Go get her," Aubrey said, her voice threatening to break.

Fat Amy ran and scooped up the now unconscious brunette. She took one last look at the planet. One last look at Bumper. And climbed into the ship, Beca slung over her shoulder.

"Cynth can you fly this thing?" Aubrey asked, suppressing the urge to vomit.

"Yes," Cynthia Rose said, heading for the cockpit.

"Get us out of here," she said, sitting back against a wall, Beca lying beside her. She put a hand on her forehead and swept the hair from her face. "I'm sorry, Beca. I'm so sorry."

They walked the planet, collecting the bodies of the newly dead, loading them onto two trucks.

"Head shot," one man said, his boot tilting the dead soldier's head.

"No good," said the second man. "Truck two."

They reached the camp where one final body remained. A redheaded girl.

"We can use this one," the second man said. "Truck one." A third man came and picked Chloe up, placing her onto the first truck. "We can bring her back."