FaberryAchele: Thank YOU. I am really, really enjoying writing Aubrey in this story, so compliments on her make me so happy. I spend a lot of time just sitting and thinking about how she would react in certain scenes of this story, because it's not a very easy story to write. I'm currently working on Chapter 53 and I've been working on it probably about a week, because I want to get all of her dialogue and actions right. So, thank YOU.
Orangewifi: The plot wouldn't work if it was only Chaubrey. It has to be Triple Treble, or I really have no story. I'm a bigger fan of Chaubrey than I am of TT, but I really like where this story eventually goes with the three of them.
Rober428: Thank you.
makemesmile98: I agree. I don't think Aubrey could ever NOT be bossy. Lol. It's in her DNA. Thank you for the lovely review.

A/N: This story is about to hit its turning part where things become much darker. I'm so nervous, because I have been working up to the chapter after this one for 5 years, and I know it's either going to make or break this story for everyone. But, also, I am extremely excited, because I'm working on Chapter 53, and I have put so much passion into these next few chapters. I hope you all enjoy them. Thank you for the lovely reviews. They really motivate me and build my confidence. Arr has finally made it to the front page when you sort PP fics by reviews, and I love that you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. So, thanks.


Arrhythmia


While we're here,
Tell me why it's so funny,
That you're so funny when you're mad.
You're always so mad,
So mad.
And that's why I'm wondering why you had to tell me,
What's going on in your head,
What's wrong.
Come around to another time when you don't have to run.
-Howie Day


'u coming?'

Aubrey sits on the edge of the bed, tapping her phone against her leg, listening to the sound of Chloe's steady breathing behind her. She glances back at her, watching the rise and fall of her chest. It wouldn't take much to pull the blankets back and lay down beside her. Every muscle in her body is begging her to go to bed. But she has to meet Beca. She has to know about Tyler. She puts her phone down beside her and leans her head forward, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. It doesn't wake her up. She misses the coffee from the café – particularly the Impresso Espresso, which has enough caffeine to keep her up for days. She picks her phone back up, focusing extra hard on typing the words.

'I'll meet you by the front stairs.'

She looks back at Chloe. She should have told her that she was going out with Beca before she fell asleep. Not necessarily where they're going, but something. She considers waking her up, but it's too late at night to start a fight. She doesn't want to fight. She gets up slowly and walks over to the dresser, changing back out of her pajamas and into a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. She grabs a hair tie but just slips it on her wrist, not finding the energy to pull it up. The euphoria has worn off and been replaced by the exhaustion of their location and circumstances again. She grabs the key from the dresser and shoves it in her pocket then crawls onto the bed and places a light kiss on Chloe's cheek. In a few hours, hopefully even less than that, she'll be able to crawl in bed beside her and go to sleep.

She gets up and grabs her phone, shoving it in the pocket of her jeans with the key. Does she need anything else? She pinches the bridge of her nose. What else would she need to go investigate a dead body? She gives Chloe one last glance then reluctantly walks out of the room, trudging her way to the front door. She wonders how much Chloe would hate her if she found out she was sneaking around behind her back – with Beca, getting herself involved in a potential murder. She wishes she had been listening harder on the way to the beach and heard whatever it was that Chloe heard as they passed the ice cream shop. She locks the front door of the suite behind her and rounds the corner toward the main entrance. She should have been paying better attention on the way to the beach.

It's surprising to look up and see Beca on the stairs already waiting for her. She expected to be waiting an hour for her. As much as she hates constantly waiting for Beca to get her ass in gear, arriving second isn't a better feeling. It might actually be worse. She stops a few feet away from the stairs and bitterly folds her arms across her chest, watching Beca scrape at the step she's sitting on with a rock. Aubrey clears her throat to get her attention and Beca's head snaps up. "You were supposed to be ready, not playing with rocks." Saying it makes her feel less like she was late.

"Seriously?" Beca's voice is void of emotion. She tosses the rock to the side and brushes her hands together as she stands up. She looks tired, too, Aubrey notes. Beca shoves her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie and jogs down the steps, slowing when she reaches Aubrey. Aubrey expects some sort of smartass comment, but Beca walks past her instead, heading toward the road away from the inn.

"Well, I wasn't late. You just texted me." Aubrey stalks after her, staying a few feet behind. "So, why are you so angry?" Beca has to be angry; if she wasn't, she wouldn't be so quiet.

Beca turns and walks backwards, looking at Aubrey with raised eyebrows. "Dude, no one said you were late," she says calmly. "And who said I was angry?"

Aubrey frowns and looks at the ground, reevaluating her assumption. She hiccups and has to look up again, the ground feeling more unstable when she isn't looking straight ahead. "You're not talking." By that, Aubrey means she's not being rude – but talking and being rude are basically the same for Beca. Her throat feels dry and she tries to swallow, wishing she would have drank some water before leaving the inn. Or just not have left at all.

Beca stops. "Are you drunk?" she asks with a hint of amusement.

It can't be that obvious. Aubrey quickly shakes her head. "No. Are you?" She's not quite sure how the last part slipped out. She tries to walk past her, but Beca turns and walks beside her, looking up at her.

Beca smirks and shakes her head. "Definitely not."

"That's good." Aubrey takes an immediate vow to stop talking once she hears her own words. She accidentally brushes her arm against Beca's and stumbles as she quickly sidesteps away from her. She decides to change the topic away from her, but even that doesn't come out right. "How's marrying Jesse?" she asks, focusing hard on walking and talking and trying to read Beca at the same time. "Does he know?"

"That we're getting married?" The look of amusement on Beca's face only intensifies. "Yeah, pretty sure he knows."

"That you don't love him," Aubrey clarifies. "That you're settling."

Beca blinks. "I don't know, Aubrey." Her tone turns caustic. " I think I have his number somewhere if you want to call him and ask."

There's the Beca that Aubrey has come to know and despise. Aubrey thinks about whether or not he might know. Is it obvious if someone is just settling for you? What if that's what Chloe is doing with her – settling. The thought makes her stomach turn, or maybe that's the vodka. She crosses her arms tighter. What would make it obvious? Maybe knowing you'll always be second best to someone else…

"You really just jump into things, don't you?" Beca looks away from her, staring at the road in front of them. "No hey, Beca, it's cold out tonight, did you watch that new movie on Netflix last night? You want my social security number while you're at it?"

"No, I have my own." Aubrey frowns. Everyone has their own social security number – except for, of course, people just moving into the country and illegal immigrants, but she doesn't really feel like talking about immigration laws right now. "I do, Beca," she insists when Beca laughs. What new movie had been added to Netflix last night? Chloe never mentioned anything, so it must not have actually been that good.

"I'm not doubting you." Beca fights back a grin and fails. "How was your date?"

The answer to that question depends on whether Beca wants to know about the dinner or the sex – neither of which Aubrey wants to discuss with her. She kicks at the rocks on the ground as she walks, trying to come up with an answer that will satisfy her. She could just say it was good, but then Beca might ask follow-up questions. So she gets caught up on thinking about the drinks and the crates and the stars and the lights, looking for the perfect answer. Lights. Aubrey comes to a halt. "I didn't bring a flashlight." That's what else she could have brought to investigate a dead body. A flashlight for when they turn off the main road and there are no more street lamps. "How are we going to see?"

Beca stops and pulls out her phone. She unlocks it and pushes a few buttons until a bright light shines from where the camera flash should be. "I'm already on it." She turns it off again. "You good, Aubrey?" She holds out her hand, not quite touching Aubrey's arm – but she's close enough that Aubrey takes a step away from her.

Aubrey rolls her eyes. She's tired and tipsy, not dying. "Mhm."

"We can go back." It sounds like less of a statement and more like a suggestion from Beca. "We can do this tomorrow after the wedding rehearsal."

It's tempting, but they already put it off, and Aubrey isn't about to let Beca think she can't do something as simple as walk down the road. She also just wants to get it over with. "I'm fine, Beca." Her tone is less snappy than she wants it to be, but it seems to get the point across. "Let's go."

Beca shakes her head, her lips resting in a barely visible smirk again. "Right," she whispers. "So, what's it like living in Queens?" she asks, walking again. It's another open-ended question that Aubrey isn't quite sure how to answer.

"I like it." Aubrey would be perfectly happy to stay in an apartment in Queens if Chloe wasn't so intent on things like gardening and stargazing – although Aubrey does love gardening. It's not like Queens is void of houses where they could garden in the backyard, but they would be need to work two full-time jobs to afford that. And if that was the case, when would they have time to garden? The potted plants on the balcony were just fine to Aubrey. It's clearly not the full answer that Beca wants out of her, but Aubrey ignores her look to keep going. "LA?"

"I like it." Beca nods. She nods at The Cannery as they walk past. "Wanna stop for some shots?" She nudges Aubrey's arm with her elbow.

"Only if they'll make me forget you in the morning," Aubrey quips back and leans away. Had Beca suggested stopping for water, she might have taken her up on it. But The Cannery looks closed, not that that's surprising considering the death of Nikki's brother.

"Yeah, likewise," Beca mutters. The street lights dim as they turn down the path and she pulls her phone back out for light. She puffs her cheeks out as she sighs, silent for a few moments before she looks back over at Aubrey. "Do you think he actually killed himself?"

"I don't know," Aubrey answers. The doctor didn't seem to think so. She rubs her hands up and down her arms. As terrible as it seems, she hopes he did kill himself – because at least that means he wanted to die. Dying at the hands of someone else…? She shivers and tucks her hands under her arms. "I just don't understand why somebody would do that. Or even think about doing that."

"Wait." Beca turns to walk backwards again, shining the light in front of Aubrey's feet so she can still see. "You're telling me you've never wanted to kill yourself? Like…ever?"

"No," Aubrey mouths and shakes her head. She furrows her brows. "Have you?"

"No," Beca answers quickly. "No. Dude, but everyone thinks about it. You don't have anything that makes you think about just disappearing?"

Aubrey stares at the ground, willing herself not to think about it. It's not a necessary thought. Life isn't a video game where you respawn and hope to do better the second time around. You do what you can the first time and then it's over. Forever. So, why end it early? Eventually, it's going to end on its own. "Yes," she answers, "Talking to you." She snatches Beca's phone out of her hand and shines it ahead of her, picking up the pace. The only break from life she wants to think about is sleep.

Beca jogs after her and grabs her phone back. She comes to a halt in front of Aubrey, forcing her to stop too. "Why does everything about me bother you so much, Aubrey?" She steps to the side, blocking Aubrey's path as she tries to step around her.

They don't have enough time for Aubrey to make that list. They would have to respawn at least twice. She pushes past Beca and continues down the path. "You talk too much." That's enough to sum it up for now.

"And Chloe doesn't?" Beca takes longer strides to keep up. "Or have you just gotten better at tuning her out after all these years?"

Aubrey glances back at her with a scowl. "Don't bring Chloe into this," she warns her.

"Twenty-four hours ago, you were telling me Jason Mraz is cute and that you wanted to be friends, and now you're acting like I'm your arch nemesis out to destroy the world again." Beca grabs Aubrey's arm and roughly pulls her back around. "Don't brush me off, Aubrey. Just stop for a minute."

"Because I'm tired and I want to go home, Beca!" Aubrey snaps, flinching and pulling her arm back. It still hurts from falling and tears sting her eyes for a second before the pain fades back into a dull throbbing. She draws in a deep breath, trying to gain her control back. "I'm mad," she says slowly, controlling her tone so it's not pointed at Beca, "Because I want to go home."

"Okay," Beca relents, taking a step back. "That's all you had to say. I get it; I want to go home too."

"Then why are you here?" Aubrey rubs her wrist, the pain localizing there. "If you don't want to be with him, Beca, then -"

"You're suddenly going to pretend like you care about my love life now?" Beca asks.

Aubrey stares at her, falling silent. She tries to swallow away the dryness in her throat again and pulls up the sleeve of her shirt to look at her wrist, trying to buy herself time to think of what she's supposed to say. It's impossible when she can't figure out exactly what it is she keeps saying wrong. She comes up with nothing. Refolding her arms, she looks back up and waits for Beca to keep talking.

"There's a lot of reasons that I'm with him." Beca lifts her hand and runs her fingers through her hair. She laughs quietly. "First being that he's nice to me."

"But you don't love him." Aubrey isn't sure if she's reminding her or if she's asking her. She can't help but think that Chloe is always nice as well. "Have you ever loved anyone or has it always just been yourself?"

"What do you want, Aubrey?" Beca sounds exasperated now. "Do you want me to love you?" She laughs at it like it's a joke. "Is that what this is all about?"

Aubrey's heart is thudding so loudly, she's worried that Beca might hear it. "No, Beca." She has never and will never want Beca Mitchell to feel anything about her. "That's not what I want."

"Good." Beca walks around her, making eye contact as Aubrey turns to watch her. "Because it's hard enough to find a whole lot to even like. So stop asking me about Jesse." She turns her back to Aubrey. "Oh, but secondly, Aubrey, he does want me to love him."

The first part hurts. The kind of hurt that's enough to stop a person in their tracks. Or maybe that's just the vodka telling her it hurts. She doesn't have time to think about it, because Beca keeps talking. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Beca spins back, spreading her arms out to the side. "Maybe I'm sorry that I left Chloe," she says with a tight smile. "But have you ever tried to get to know you? Or just tried to talk to you in general? It's like trying to talk to an insult generator. You have too many walls, Aubrey. I don't know what you're so scared to let people see."

Aubrey feels rooted to the ground. Numb. Who is Beca to talk about people having walls? She balls her hands into fists, twisting the fabric of her sweatshirt tightly around her fingers. "You tell me." She raises her eyebrows. She doesn't really want Beca to tell her anything. She wants the conversation to be over. She wants water and to sit down and to not feel so close to throwing up.

"Maybe I'm scared that if you get to know me, you still won't like me." Beca raises her eyebrows and Aubrey knows she's not actually talking about herself. "Maybe I'm scared that I'm not going to be enough; that I'll be a disappointment."

Aubrey doesn't realize how tightly she's gripping her sweatshirt until her fingers start to ache. She stands with her legs further apart to keep herself balanced and tries again to swallow – this time trying to calm her stomach. She can feel the vodka burning in the back of her throat. She doesn't need to pretend like she's talking about herself to get her point across. "Or maybe you're just scared that everyone you love is going to leave you. So you have to lower your standards and settle for desperate people who won't abandon you." It strikes a nerve. Aubrey knows it does. She can tell by the way Beca's smile pulls so tightly at her cheeks.

"You know what you're scared of, Aubrey?" Beca's voice is suddenly a lot thicker. "You're scared to let Chloe get close to anyone else, because you think she's going to finally realize she can do better."

Aubrey isn't sure if she's shivering because it's cold or because she wants the conversation to end. She stares at a pothole in the road a few feet away, clenching her jaw to keep it steady. The road is a blur, and she stays silent, ignoring the sense of confirmation she's probably giving Beca, because she doesn't want her to take it any further. She doesn't want to hear any more about anything regarding her and Chloe.

Beca runs her fingers through her hair again, letting her hand rest on top of her head. "Aubrey –"

"Are you done?" Aubrey cuts her off. Her chest burns, and she has to pause to take a few breaths. "Or do you want to keep going? Because I can tell you a few things about you and Chloe too, Beca."

"I'm done." Beca puts her hand up in surrender. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you want from me, Aubrey." She takes a few steps closer but still keeps her distance. "What do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything from you." Aubrey sniffles and rubs her nose with her sleeve, too tired to worry about the disgustingness of it. The best thing Beca can give her is to just disappear. "I want to go home. I don't want to think about you. I don't want to think about dead bodies. I want to go home."

"I think we're almost to the clinic, right?" Beca asks.

Aubrey tears her gaze around from the ground and forces herself to look up. From what she can remember from the map, they're getting close. She turns to look in Beca's general direction, focusing her eyes on a tree behind her, and nods.

"Look, let's just go do what we have to do and then we can go back to the hotel and get some sleep." Beca offers up her phone. "You, uh, you probably know the rest of the way better than I do."

Aubrey glances at the phone. She knows it's some sort of peace offering. The road they're on leads straight to the clinic. She takes it anyway and shines it in front of them, leading them in the direction they need to go. "We weren't going to leave you, you know?" She doesn't know why she says it, not after everything they had both just said.

"Yeah, I kind of figured that out after." Beca presses her lips together in a brief wry smile.

Aubrey doesn't know what to say after that. She lets her free hand fall to her side, flinching as it accidentally brushes the side of Beca's hand. Her grip on Beca's phone slips and she fumbles to catch it, grabbing it just before it falls. "Sorry," she whispers quickly, clutching the bottom of her sweatshirt so it won't happen again. She sniffles again and tries to rub her nose with her shoulder this time, so she won't have to lift her arm.

Beca doesn't respond. She presses her lips together tightly and stares straight ahead for several steps before glancing sideways at Aubrey's hand. "You know you make things a way bigger deal than they are, right?"

Aubrey straightens herself up, forcing herself to prepare for another round of arguments. Her eyelids are drooping, and she squeezes them tightly together then opens them again, telling herself it makes her feel more awake.

Beca looks straight ahead. She lifts her hand and brushes the side of her hand against Aubrey's as she slides her pinky between Aubrey's pinky and shirt, locking their two fingers together. "You good, Aubrey?" she asks, more serious this time.

Aubrey glances down at their hands, battling with herself between leaving them like that or twisting Beca's arm behind her back. She slowly relaxes her hand from her shirt, resting it again by her side. It takes a moment to process that Beca is asking her a question. She looks up at Beca's face as she registers her words. She nods, even though she's fairly certain she's never felt worse.

"Hey, don't tell Chloe what I said," Beca says.

"About what?" Aubrey asks.

"About the whole being sorry I left thing." Beca shrugs it off non-chalantly, "You know she won't let it go."

Aubrey nods and stares downward. "Would that really be that bad?" she finds herself asking. And then she mentally kicks herself, because, yes, it would be that bad – it would be that bad for her.

Beca gives her a dubious look. "I'm going to plead the fifth."

Aubrey decides to let it go, because she doesn't want to know Beca's answer either way.

xxxxx

"Dr. Campbell said you'd be back."

The familiar voice snaps Aubrey out of her daze and she quickly looks up, tugging her finger away from Beca's on instinct.

Nikki leans over the porch banister and taps her cigarette with her finger. "Don't worry," she continues, "You don't have to explain why you're here. I already know. You want to know if he killed himself too. But why are you so interested? Morbid curiosity?"

Beca walks ahead of Aubrey. "We're here to - "

"Who are you?" Nikki cuts her off. She puts out her cigarette on the banister then places it behind her ear. "Guess I'd be curious too if I saw someone hanging off the ceiling." She crosses the porch and walks down the driveway, meeting Aubrey in the middle. She arches her brows and folds her arms across her chest, placing her weight on one foot as she waits for Aubrey to speak.

Aubrey turns off the light on Beca's phone and looks at Nikki. "I think I have information." She knows it's a long shot. Tyler. The head spade. The calls. The blood on the mirror. There's nothing to prove any of them are connected. But there also isn't a lot to prove that they aren't.

Nikki's features soften. "What kind of information?"

"We're not sure…" Beca says slowly, side glancing at Aubrey.

"I do know you." Nikki turns her head in Beca's direction. "You were at the bar. Vodka and tonic. You broke one of my glasses."

"No, that was Aubrey."

"You must be Beca." Nikki gives her a once over. "Unresolved sexual tension girl."

Beca raises her eyebrows.

Aubrey chastises herself, realizing they've never had a proper introduction. "Beca, this is Nikki," she cuts in, "Nikki, this is Beca."

Nikki makes a short humming noise, still looking in Beca's direction. "I do have to hand it to you," she says to Aubrey, "You have decent taste in girls. But I think I like the other one better."

Chloe. It takes Aubrey aback because Nikki reminds her of Beca with her piercings and tattoos. She bites back the urge to tell Nikki that she does too.

"Great." Beca smiles. "You two can be the presidents of my hate club. I don't care. Can we go inside now?"

Nikki shoots her an irritated frown. She looks at Aubrey then nods for her to walk with her to the clinic. "Hey, I'm sorry about the whiskey and your friend."

Aubrey walks beside her, not minding as their shoulders brush. The mention of the previous night brings back a rush of anger – but it feels dull now.

"You don't have to say it's okay." Nikki walks onto the porch and pulls open the clinic door. "I know sometimes I leave my good judgement at the bar."

The lack of expectation for Aubrey to forgive her apology numbs Aubrey's anger even more, and she doesn't know why she isn't more furious. She steps inside the clinic. Maybe she would feel angrier if she wasn't already miserable. She glances back to make sure Nikki doesn't let the door slam on Beca then offers Beca's phone back to her.

"Do you want some water?" Nikki asks, shutting the door behind them. "No offense, but you look like you could use some water."

Aubrey nods. Despite that the clinic is freezing, she feels almost like she's sweating. Does she really look that bad though? "Water would be great. Thank you."

"What about you?" Nikki asks Beca, colder.

"As great as you slipping embalming fluid into my drink sounds, I think I'll pass." Beca slouches against the doorframe with folded arms.

Nikki shrugs "Suit yourself."

"How long have you been here?" Aubrey asks.

"Not long. I shut the bar down early." Nikki opens one of the doors and steps through it, letting it close behind her.

Aubrey watches her go before locating a seat. It feels like they've been walking for miles. She drops down on the plastic chair and slouches forward, resting her arms on her legs.

"You like her," Beca states in a whisper, pushing herself away from the wall.

Aubrey gives her a quizzical stare. "I guess we're friends." She shrugs. It's difficult to tell with someone she just met, but if she's judging by their interactions so far, it would seem to her that they're friends. And, generally, people like their friends. And they do have each other's phone numbers now.

Beca takes a seat in a chair beside Aubrey and watches the door where Nikki disappeared. "I would tap that," she says and glances at Aubrey out of the corner of her eye.

So, they were talking about that kind of like. Aubrey gives her a disgusted look. She can see it though – liking Nikki if she wasn't with Chloe. The tongue ring would be a significant turn off. But overall, tongue ring and tattoos excluded, she's pretty. She bends her arms and rests her head in her hands, her thoughts drifting to what Nikki would look like without the piercing and tattoos. But then there's also the matter of the cigarette behind her ear. And her career path. But, she would still like Chloe if Chloe was a bartender. They would have to talk about the smoking thing though…

"She's hot AF," Beca chimes in again.

"I don't care, Beca." Aubrey presses her hands against her eyes hard enough to see stars. She really doesn't. The whole conversation is pointless. Her actual, real-life relationship requires enough effort. She doesn't need Beca trying to convince her she has some frivolous school girl crush on someone she barely knows. It's a waste of thought. She sighs in exhaustion and rubs her temples, thinking instead about how in less than a week, she'll be able to put this entire place behind her. It seems like a long time from where she's at now, but time has a way of tricking people into feeling like it's longer than it really is. Before she knows it, she'll be out of this chair and back in Queens. Before she knows it, she'll be out of this chair and in fucking bed.

The door reopens, and Aubrey lifts her head to Nikki passing her a bottle of water. She accepts it gratefully and uncaps it, immediately feeling a little better after the first few sips. She can at least swallow again without feeling like her mouth and throat are lined with cotton. "Is he done running tests?" she asks. She assumes considering he told her and Beca to return in the afternoon and it's now hours later that he is, but he could have decided he needed to do more depending on the results.

Nikki nods and sits down on the other side of Aubrey, holding a can of Pepsi. "He told me there was something wrong with his eyes," she says, "I've been asking myself if I really want to know the results."

"Someone could have potentially murdered a kid where you live, and you don't want to know?" Beca leans backward to look around Aubrey at Nikki.

"He's my brother," Nikki informs her, void of emotion. "You think I want to know if he suffered at the hands of someone else? What if it was your family?"

"If one of my family members turned up dead, I think I'd wanna know how it happened," Beca answers. "You don't want justice if someone did do that?"

"I don't want to think about it." Nikki shakes her head, looking out a window by the door. She wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand then downs a long swig of her drink.

"So your brother dies and you're just going to forget about him?" Beca asks.

"That's enough," Aubrey puts an end to their discussion and recaps her water. She uses the back of the chair for support as she stands back up. "Beca and I came for one thing. Answers. And I think you should know what really happened too." She can't imagine being Nikki and not knowing. Or, now, being herself and not knowing how he died. It's one of those regrets that would come to haunt you later in life when you're least expecting it. "Either you get justice, or you know that it wasn't anyone's fault. But it's up to you." She can't be here any longer. She walks around the chairs and knocks on the door to the exam room they entered the previous night.