A/N: I do not own Pitch Perfect or any of its characters

Tony stretched out on the bunk of his cell. He hadn't been given a new cell-mate yet and was enjoying the time he had to himself.

A police officer knocked on his cell door before entering and sitting on the seat opposite.

"Evening officer," Tony said.

"Thought you might be interested to know, Jesse Swanson's dead," the officer said, studying Tony's face for a reaction.

The corners of Tony's mouth tugged upwards. "Shame," he said.

"Thought you also might want to know that he killed four people before he died," the officer said. Tony frowned now.

"Who?" Tony asked.

"The cop who escorted him, two paramedics, and a detective. He almost killed Beca Mitchell and her friend, but she managed to shoot him first," he said. "Look, Tony, I don't know what kind of games you think you're playing, but this is the second time one of your cell-mates has escaped and gotten killed on the outside. Only this time, four innocent people were killed, and a girl who's spent the last couple of months trying to recover has just suffered a major setback."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Tony said, his face free of expression.

"Sure you don't," the officer said, standing and leaving the cell.

Tony frowned. He had seriously underestimated that Swanson kid.

He should have realised after he not only survived, but came out unscathed with his encounter with Frankie. Frankie should have been able to beat him to a pulp.

He couldn't pretend that he felt guilt over the death of the cop or the detective, but he did feel bad that two paramedics had died and that Beca and her girlfriend had suffered again.

He should never have gotten that far.

Jesse should have been pretty close to death when he shivved him as part of the "plan". But he seemed pretty much unhurt.

He also wasn't supposed to kill anyone, he was meant to steal the cop's gun and then call his contact on the outside. His contact would have beaten him half to death and then dropped him outside the prison. Tony surmised that Jesse had figured out not to trust his contact and go it alone.

Oh well, Tony thought, he's dead now. Burning in hell. Where he belongs.

He smiled to himself as he carried on reading. He hoped his next cell-mate would be a rapist too.

"As you know, we're trying to piece together what happened on the day that Detective Anderson and Jesse Swanson were killed, can you tell us how you were involved?" Harry Jones, an investigator Josie had never met before, asked. He seemed relatively inexperienced and a little nervous.

"My partner Dennis Jordan and I were instructed to drive Detective Anderson to Beca Mitchell's apartment. We had just been notified of Jesse's escape, and Anderson assumed that's where he would head first," Josie said. Harry looked down at his notepad. So far, her story matched Dennis'. "When we arrived, he asked us to wait in the patrol car while he went inside to warn Beca."

"Why did he ask you to stay behind?" Harry asked. "Surely he knew Swanson was armed and had already murdered three people."

"He didn't think Jesse had made it this far yet. There had been no reports of stolen vehicles and Jesse hadn't take the ambulance, so he assumed he was walking. He thought it would have taken him longer, considering his injuries," Josie said. "He asked us to wait and watch for when Jesse showed up."

"But Swanson was already at the location?"

"Yes sir," Josie said.

"What happened next?"

"We heard what we assumed was a gunshot a few minutes after Detective Anderson entered the building. We went into the building but had to fight against the rest of the residents who were trying to escape. As we climbed the stairs we heard an additional two shots," Josie said. "We entered the apartment and saw Beca Mitchell standing over a man who matched Jesse's description. Beca had what seemed to be a gunshot injury to her right arm, which was bleeding heavily. Her girlfriend Chloe Beale was unconscious and Detective Anderson was... he was dead, sir."

Harry looked down at his notes again, so far there were no discrepancies.

"Was Swanson alive or dead?" Harry asked.

"He was dead when we arrived at the scene," Josie said, without hesitation. "Beca Mitchell informed us that he had shot Anderson, and we assumed she had shot Jesse, and he had shot her, in the struggle. She received an injury to the arm, he was shot through the neck."

"Okay, thank you Officer Roberts, that will be all," Harry said, satisfied with her statement.

"Thank you, sir," she said.

Beca had finally showered and changed her clothes. She scrubbed furiously to get the dried blood from her hands and arms. She washed her face several times until she finally felt clean. She remembered the spray of Jesse's warm blood splattering against her face, and she cleaned it three more times.

She had just given her statement to the police, telling them how she had watched Jesse kill Anderson, and how she had managed to get the fallen detective's gun and had fired. She asked if she would have to go back to court, or even serve jail time. They told her probably not. It was self defence. No jury would convict her.

She had been discharged from the hospital, but because Chloe had a concussion, she had to stay for another few days.

Beca slowly approached her room, where she was now sitting with both her parents. Beca hadn't met them yet.

"Come here," Chloe said, holding out her hand for Beca to take. Beca looked cautiously at the two redheaded parents, who were both smiling warmly, before taking her hand and sitting in the free seat beside her. "Beca, this is my mom and dad. Lillian and Jeffrey Beale. Mom, dad, this is Beca, my girlfriend."

Beca shook hands with them both, hoping they weren't huggers like Chloe was. She sensed that Lillian was, but she seemed to be restraining herself. She held Chloe's hand again, and Chloe squeezed it, reassuringly."

"Nice to finally meet you Beca," she said, her eyes twinkling the same way Chloe's did.

"Yeah, same," Beca said, clearly nervous. She didn't understand why they were smiling at her. Why are they being so nice when it's because of me their daughter was almost killed? she thought. "I'm sorry... About what happened... I'm sorry Chloe was hurt," she said, her hand involuntarily tightening around Chloe's.

"Beca, that wasn't your fault," Chloe said with an almost frustrated sigh.

"Of course it wasn't your fault, dear," Lillian said. "That... that evil... It was his doing."

"But if it wasn't for me, she wouldn't have gotten caught in the cross-fire," Beca said, her eyes landing on Jeffrey, who had yet to say anything.

"Why is it," he said, his voice much softer than Beca had expected, "that the victims will always blame themselves, and the guilty never will?" He didn't expect an answer, he just let the question hang. "We're very glad you're dating our daughter, Beca. You seem to care about her a great deal. From what we've heard, you ran to her aid, even though you knew Jesse would be there, waiting for you. That shows how much you care."

Beca nodded, tears in her eyes. "I do care," she said. "I love her."

"Then that's all that matters," he said.

After a few hours, Chloe's parent's returned to their hotel, and Beca and Chloe had some time together before Aubrey came to pick her up.

Beca wanted to spend the night in the hospital with Chloe, but her doctor wouldn't permit it, so she was staying with Stacie and Aubrey at the apartment Stacie shared with Fat Amy. Aubrey, Beca and Chloe's apartment was still considered a crime scene, so they couldn't go back. The investigator Harry Jones had permitted them to take some of their clothes out. Beca had waited outside, not wanting to be inside there.

"How are you?" Beca asked Chloe, the tips of her fingers tracing lightly across her forehead.

"Fine," Chloe said, "I wish I could get out of here."

"Just a couple more days," Beca said.

"How are you? And don't say fine, because I know you're not," Chloe said, studying her girlfriend's face. Considering how she'd been 48 hours ago, when they were lounging together in the living room, watching TV, Beca was, understandably, drastically different.

"I don't know," Beca said, frowning. "I feel weird. Things haven't really sunk in yet."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Chloe said.

"I called Dr. Richards, I'm going to see her next week. I think you should come with me," Beca said.

"That's not a bad idea," Chloe said. She shifted over in the bed and Beca climbed in beside her again, replicating their pose from the night before, with her arm around Chloe's shoulders, Chloe's head on her chest. "Becs," she said after a while.

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to go back into that apartment," she said.

"No," Beca agreed. "Neither do I."

"We can get a smaller place, since it'll just be the two of us. And my mom and dad said they'd help out with money," Chloe said.

Beca opened her mouth to object but Chloe cut her off.

"My parents have money, and they want to help us. You can pay them back when you're a famous music producer," she said. Beca smiled.

"Okay," she said.