FromTumblr: I do. It's Rabidnar. Basically everything except my Tumblr is Rabidnar.
Pixie1913: Or for the whole shoe rack to drop, am I right.
Vickstik: I am glad I succeeded in making it feel as long to everyone else as it felt to Aubrey.
SunDanceQT: Isn't she tho.
96itadakimasu96: How could anyone get over it.
Unique100: And more tears to come.
Mwallace: Good, cause there is a lot of that coming.
Dysrhythmia
Thought I found a way,
Thought I found a way, yeah.
But you never go away,
So I guess I gotta stay now.
Oh, I hope some day I'll make it out of here,
Even if it takes all night or a hundred years.
Need a place to hide, but I can't find one near.
Wanna feel alive, outside I can fight my fear.
Isn't it lovely, all alone?
Heart made of glass, my mind of stone.
- Billie Eilish, Khalid
"Dude, the entire team thinks it's Lupus. How is he somehow going to be right, when everybody else in this hospital is in agreement?"
"Because it's never Lupus."
"Why is this the only thing on TV to watch here? So, every patient watching it can assume they're dying? It's Lupus."
"It's not Lupus."
People in Aubrey's room are fighting. Or maybe they're not fighting – just speaking very passionately to each other. Or, quite possibly, they're fighting. Either way, they have no regard for the fact that Aubrey is trying to sleep or that her head hurts or that every part of her feels like it's caving in – because they're loud and they're making Aubrey even more confused and disoriented.
"This is stupid."
Aubrey groans and cracks her eyes open, looking blurrily around – at Beca, at Chloe's dad, up at the TV. They're watching House. "One time it was Lupus," she mumbles, and closes her eyes again. God, how did Chloe ever lure her into watching so much TV? Chloe. Her chest aches, and she doesn't want to be awake.
Everyone falls silent.
Awkwardly silent.
Making it as impossible to sleep as all their noise.
And Aubrey wishes they would just go back to their conversation – in a respectful whisper. Instead, she can feel them staring at her, like she's on display. No wonder Chloe's mom had an easier time with her when she was half asleep, half on drugs.
Aubrey fumbles with her hand along the side of the bed until she finds the button to sit up. The room hasn't stopped spinning any less nor has her stomach settled, and she tries to breathe through the vertigo.
"You're awake," Beca finally says, "Like, actually awake."
Aubrey wishes she had a comment about Beca's observation skills, but her head is too foggy to come up with one. No. Wait. She just needs a second. "Maybe you should be watching Sherlock." There is a wooden table attached to her bed, and she struggles to turn it in front of her, then leans forward to rest her forehead down on it. Maybe it isn't too late to fall back to sleep – just right here, with the table as a pillow.
"I should get my wife…" Noah says.
Aubrey shakes her head. "She already knows I'm awake." Let her be with Chloe. Let Chloe have her mom.
"Because…she's psychic?" Beca guesses, "I would totally believe it if that woman claimed to be a psychic."
"Because I was awake last night." Aubrey exhales through a particularly strong wave of pain that discovers she's awake and can feel it.
"Are you okay?" Beca asks.
In no sense of the word is Aubrey okay. She nods.
"I don't believe you," Beca says.
Then why ask?
"Can you -" Beca stops her own question short, and Aubrey isn't sure what she's trying to ask. But it must not be directed to her, because she can hear Chloe's dad leave the room. "Can I sit down?" That question is for her.
Aubrey is certain that Beca is already sitting, and it takes a moment to realize Beca is asking to sit with her. She nods.
Beca slowly sits down next to her on the bed.
Aubrey just waits for her to speak.
"How is your arm?" Beca asks.
How does her arm look? "Get to the point, Beca." There is no part of Aubrey that has the energy for small talk, or questions with crystal clear answers like how Aubrey's arm is – when it's in a cast, because she fell, and bandaged, because she was shot.
Beca doesn't say anything.
"Seriously, Beca, talk."
"There are police everywhere, Aubrey," Beca whispers, and Aubrey is already overwhelmed by her words, "I haven't told them anything, except that," her voice cracks, "Jesse did this."
Jesse. "Why not?"
"I was waiting for you to wake up," Beca is still whispering, her voice shaking, "Aubrey…"
Aubrey is trying to process while also trying to manage her body physically giving out on her.
"Aubrey."
But she knows this is important. Aubrey forces herself to sit up against the back of the bed to give Beca her full attention. Something else is wrong. She locks eyes with Beca.
"They can't find him," Beca says, "They got there, and he wasn't there."
Aubrey furrows her brows. What? She shot him. She killed him.
Beca swallows, looking rather sick herself. "They only found the gun. They keep stressing to me that your prints are all over that gun. I know they're just trying to get answers, but…"
The corners of Aubrey's lips twitch. "But I only shot the deer and Jesse," she mouths silently. They won't be able to match any other death to those bullets – and, if Jesse is gone, she can still be truthful about the deer and keeping the gun on her for self-defense.
Jesse is gone. It doesn't make sense. Jesse is gone. Aubrey shot him. Where the hell did he go? Maybe he still plans to pin this on her…
Beca opens her mouth to speak again, but she's cut off by a knock on the door.
Speak of the devils, and they shall appear. Aubrey should have stayed knocked out.
The door opens and two men in uniform step inside. "FBI," one of them says while they both show her their badges, "We're glad you're awake. Can we ask you a few questions?"
"I want a lawyer," Aubrey responds immediately then falls into silence.
"Why would you need a lawyer?" The other one asks, then looks at Beca, "Give us a moment, would you, please?"
Beca stands up and looks at Aubrey one more time before she skirts around them, out of the room.
Aubrey wishes she was still there. Or that Chloe's mom was there. Or Chloe's dad. Or anyone. She slides her fingertips up and down the rough exterior of her cast. It's light blue – reminding her of The Bellas, in a good way.
"I am Officer Drywood," the first man says, "And this is my partner, Officer Miller. Do you have a lawyer?"
Aubrey utilizes her right to remain silent without a lawyer present – regardless of whether or not she has one. They aren't charging her with anything… She didn't do anything. Except shoot a man. But he was going to kill her. He had a rifle pointed at her. He was going after Chloe. They don't even know where he is…
"As a matter of fact, she does," Julia says from the doorway, "And, if I remember correctly, I already provided you with his number."
Aubrey definitely does not have a lawyer.
"Did you lose it?" Julia asks, "I can give it to you again."
"We got it, thank you," Officer Clark says with a dry smile.
Julia returns the expression and watches them leave – frowning at their backs.
"Psychic," Beca mouths from behind her.
Julia looks at her, catching the word. "My husband came to tell me Aubrey was awake," she says, "Accidentally tipping off them in the process."
Beca's cheeks flush red, and she gives her a sheepish smile that doesn't quite reaching her eyes. "You really don't like police."
"I have a black husband," Julia replies simply.
Aubrey feels a twinge of something, watching them interact. "I don't have a lawyer," she says as soon as the officers are out of sight.
"Actually, you do," Julia tells her and walks back in the room, "His name is Marc Littleton."
Aubrey lets the name sink in. "My boss?" That doesn't make any sense.
"I overstepped some boundaries and called your job." Julia rubs her face. She's tired. Maybe not as tired as Aubrey, but Aubrey can see she's tired, and the coffee in her hand doesn't look like it's doing much. "They've been asking a lot of…intense questions, and it makes things a lot simpler that you work somewhere that can protect you."
Oh. Aubrey doesn't feel quite as violated as she thought she would.
"You must have people there that really care about you." Julia drags a chair close to the bed. "They took you, Beca, and Chlo pro bono, and put you on paid leave."
Beca walks over to a cot and sits down – and Aubrey realizes she must be sleeping in the same room as her. It's a relief that Aubrey didn't wake her up last night.
"Your friends are really worried about you," Julia tells her, "One of them has been texting me non-stop. He seems to be notorious at texting the wrong number though."
Aubrey looks at her, confused.
Julia slides her her phone. "It's at the top."
Aubrey picks it up and opens her texts, clicking the latest chat. She doesn't even have to look at the name to immediately realize who it is, and her cheeks flush with embarrassment.
Conrad: dick pics?
Conrad: oh no
Conrad: wrong julia
Conrad: i meant the drag queen
Conrad: plz don't tell aubrey
Conrad: think of my wellbeing
God help her.
That isn't even the worst of it. Chloe's mom sent him back pictures of Dicks Sporting Goods, Dick Chaney, and Donald Trump.
Conrad: i meant attractive ones
Julia sent him an old black and white picture of Dick Clark.
"Why would you encourage this?" Aubrey sends him a text of her own – which isn't easy with one hand.
Aubrey: Stop texting my mom, or I am going to destroy your glitter mug. – Aubrey
It's just…easier to claim this is her mom than explain the situation.
Conrad sends her back a shocked emoji.
Conrad: u would NEVER!111
Conrad: r u ok?
Conrad: come home
Conrad: we miss u
Conrad: we're bored
Conrad: no one calls me barista
Conrad: i had to make it my stripper name
Conrad: i'm not a stripper
Conrad: yet
Conrad: ur good at being judgmental judge me naked
Before Aubrey can say no, Conrad, being Conrad, sends a picture of himself in a wide open pink robe, making a kissing face with deep pink glitter lips – almost the same shade as Aubrey's entire face turns.
Aubrey places the phone back down so quickly she nearly drops it.
It's too late.
His dick is already scarred into her brain - with everything else she doesn't want to see.
Julia takes her phone back.
"Don't," Aubrey frantically tries to stop her, "Mom."
Also too late.
Julia nearly spits out her coffee. She puts it down on the chair between her legs, and covers her mouth, coughing. "Wow." She blinks several times. "Wow."
"I am so sorry," Aubrey apologizes.
"He's very cute." Julia picks up her glasses from where they're hanging off the neck of her shirt and puts them on. "He? She?"
Aubrey lowers her head back down to the table on the bed, her forehead hitting it with a thunk. She resists the urge to lift it and slam it back down again.
"What do you think?" Julia asks, but not to Aubrey.
"Uhhhh," Beca lets out a low sound, "I think I'm shocked by the people Aubrey hangs out with. Between this guy, Howie, and Sig-"
"Beca, God help me, if you say Sigma Beta Theta one more fucking time..." Aubrey warns her. God help Aubrey, because no one will be able to help Beca.
"Whoa, what happened with Sigma Beta Theta?" Julia asks.
"So, apparently -"
Aubrey picks up the tissue box from table and ignores the needle jabbing her in the arm to throw it at Beca's face. "What the heck, Beca?!" This is Chloe's mom she's talking to!
"Ow! I wasn't actually going to tell her!"
Aubrey doesn't believe her for one second. She grabs the pink bucket from the table to throw that at her too, but Julia leaps up and promptly plucks it from her hand.
"No, Ma'am."
"Do I look old to you?"
Julia raises her eyebrows, then turns to Beca. "I am going to teach you some de-escalation techniques."
"I do not need to be de-escalated." Aubrey grabs the bucket back and slams it down on the table with enough force to shake the entire bed. The sudden burst of energy drains out of her just as quickly as it came. She sinks back into the bed, letting her hand fall to her side.
"You're the one that asked what happened with Sigma Beta Theta," Beca points out.
"Do you need to leave this room?" Julia asks.
Beca shakes her head. "Why do I feel like I'm five again."
"Maybe if you didn't act like it…" Aubrey says.
"Dude, you are the one throwing things!"
"Maybe your maturity stopped growing with your height," Aubrey suggests, ignoring her comment.
"Girls, stop," Julia cuts in, "Stop."
"She started it!" Beca claims.
Aubrey gapes at her. "You are the one that mentioned Sigma Beta Theta again."
Julia makes eye contact with her. "All done."
Aubrey shrinks.
"There's someone you actually listen to?" Beca asks.
Julia shoots Beca a look that shuts her up too.
"If you're going to fight, don't talk," Julia tells them.
Neither of them say anything. They just sit there, in silence, both of them shifting awkwardly under the looks they're receiving from Chloe's mom.
Aubrey opens her mouth to tell Beca maybe she should try escalating her height.
"Aubrey," Julia cuts her off before she can say anything.
Fine. They're done. Whatever. Aubrey lets her head lull to the side, her stomach starting to unbearably hurt again the moment she begins to calm down. She needs the adrenaline.
"Are you okay?" Beca asks, sounding legitimately concerned, "You just went down really fast."
Aubrey never wants to be asked if she's okay again.
"I need you to rest," Julia says and fixes the blanket over her, "No more arguing. No serious conversations. Just rest."
Beca sighs and lays down on her cot, covering herself up – more like wrapping herself up into a burrito. "I can't just lay here." She doesn't seem to be talking to either of them – just herself, but Aubrey silently agrees, not that she has much of a choice in whether or not she gets up.
Aubrey rests – she really does, for roughly almost an entire minute. "I want to get up," she states, "I want to go see Chloe."
Julia looks at her. "I'll cut you a deal," she says, "I'll bring you food and something to drink, and if you finish all of it, I'll butter up whoever I have to to convince them to let you leave this room to see her."
The corners of Aubrey's lips twitch. "Fine," she agrees immediately - -even though it doesn't seem at all fair that she has to do something in order to see Chloe.
"Okay."
"Mom?" Aubrey asks before she can leave.
"Hm?" Julia brushes Aubrey's hair behind her ear.
Aubrey looks down at her casted arm – relieved when her fingers move as she attempts to wiggle them. "Don't you have questions?" All of this, and she hasn't asked Aubrey anything about what happened – not what happened to her, not what happened to Chloe. Unless Beca told her… The knowledge of how long they've been here, and how long Aubrey has been knocked out, giving Chloe's mom and Beca plenty of time together starts to eat away at her.
Julia is quiet for a moment, letting her hand rest on the top of Aubrey's head. "I do," she answers finally, "I have a million of them." And that's all she says, before she ruffles Aubrey's hair then leaves the room.
"You call Chloe's mom 'Mom'," Beca points out once she's gone, sounding surprised.
Aubrey angles her body away from Beca, toward the door, wishing she could roll over, or just strap herself to the bed and turn the entire bed on its side – because Chloe's mom said no fighting, and Aubrey is a good girl, who isn't going to punch Beca in the face with her cast.
"I can't even picture you calling your own parents Mom and Dad," Beca muses.
"What do you think I call them, Beca?" Aubrey asks before she can stop herself.
"General Posen, Sir?" Beca guesses.
Aubrey frowns. Honestly, that's not so far off sometimes. "And my mom?"
"Like, literally nothing but Ma'am."
"And what do you think I would call Chloe's parents?" Aubrey asks.
"Mr. and Mrs. Beale?"
"Why?"
"Because they're not…your parents?" Beca says, "I just didn't think you'd be that close."
Aubrey knows Beca is just being curious – but she hits a nerve that Aubrey doesn't want her to, distancing her away from their family. Their family; not Aubrey's family. This is the one good thing she has left, and for a second, it feels like that's ripped away from her too – and she wants Chloe's mom to come back right now. "Why wouldn't we be that close?" She turns to face Beca – waiting to hear that she doesn't deserve it. "I have known them for nine years."
"I don't know," Beca answers, "I mean, it makes sense. She seems like she could placate anyone."
Aubrey can't tell if she's trying to joke around with her or if she's being serious. But it's true… "Beca, just…" She takes a breath, trying to choose her words carefully. "Let me keep this. This one thing that I have left."
Beca looks up at her, shocked. "Why would I want to take that?"
"I don't want to hear your voice anymore right now." Aubrey turns her head toward the door again. "Or ever." She expects a retort, but she gets nothing. They aren't supposed to be fighting anyway. No fighting. No serious conversations. Just rest. Only Aubrey can't rest – at least not inside her head. Instead, she gets caught up on what Beca said about Jesse being gone, not able to fully process it. But she also can't fully accept that she killed him, so… None of it feels real. There is nothing that she can connect to. No matter how many times she turns anything over inside her head, it feels miles away – and she feels miles away, in the opposite direction.
Chloe's mom finally comes back, forcing her to join the world outside of herself again by placing a plate with a few bites of rice and some crackers and a glass half full of sprite in front of her. It's barely anything at all – but it has the appearance of a four course meal to Aubrey. "Let's see if we can't get that needle out of your arm so you can bend it to eat," she says, and presses the button for the nurse.
Aubrey nods, and raises the bed up straighter. She sneaks a glance over at Beca – frowning deeper when she sees her with her face buried in her cot, arms wrapped around her head. She tells herself Beca is just tired. But even if that's not the case, which Aubrey knows it isn't, maybe Aubrey wouldn't have lashed out at her had she not attacked Aubrey first. Aubrey's hand is shaking, and she hides it under the blanket – staring downward at the bottom of the bed as the nurse walks in and Chloe's mom explains the predicament.
The nurse rounds the bed, but instead of preparing to take the needle out of Aubrey's arm, she grabs the blood pressure cuff and wraps it around her arm instead – like Aubrey's arms don't hurt enough without being squeezed. She shakes her head once the pressure releases. "Her blood pressure is still low; it's important she keeps the IV in and stays hydrated."
"She's going to drink something," Julia tries to persuade her, "Maybe the needle can be moved to her hand? Or put back in after she eats?"
"We can get another nurse in here to help her eat," this nurse suggests.
To help her eat. To feed her. Like Aubrey is a baby, rather than a full-grown adult. No.
"I don't think that's going to go over so well," Julia says.
Aubrey lowers her forehead back down to the table as the two of them go back and forth over something as simple as her lifting a spoon. She rests her casted arm next to her head and subtly tries to see if she can pick up the spoon, or at least just a cracker, with her fingers. This is stupid. She should just go. She should just release herself AMA. She tries to count the days she's been gone to determine whether or not she missed her return flight to Queens – but then how is she supposed to get Chloe to Queens? If Chloe's mom is working on getting Aubrey home, what is going to happen to Chloe? They must be sending her back alone.
Of course they are.
They're going to send Aubrey back to Queens, and take Chloe home with them to Florida.
And Aubrey is going to live the rest of her life alone in the apartment they used to share.
Where is Beca going to go?
Aubrey keeps her head down, even as the nurse takes her arm and removes the IV, then bandages it up too tightly. "I want to be unattached from other things too," she says, her tone not much louder than a whisper, "I am awake; I can pee by myself."
"There are 8,000 other patients in this hospital," the nurse mumbles to herself.
"Take it to the break room," Julia tells her, "Do your job." She rubs the back of Aubrey's head for a second, before stepping away to give her privacy. "Come on, Beca, out."
Aubrey doesn't feel better or worse with them gone – only considers now that Chloe's mom might not be as understanding as she is just trying to mollify Aubrey. She looks up at the deer on the wall – which is actually a giant red tulip in the light, and separates herself from what's happening – from everyone, and everything, and especially from the woman bitterly pulling a catheter out of her vagina. If Chloe were here, she would be holding Aubrey's hand, trying to help preserve Aubrey's dignity before it's damaged beyond repair, even if Aubrey demanded she get out.
But she isn't here.
And Aubrey's ego takes a drastic hit.
But it's fine.
Because she's safe, and in the hospital, and she's going to go home, and Chloe is going to be fine and come home too. Aubrey numbly pulls her hospital gown down and the blanket up as the nurse leaves, and fixes herself, and the bed, and lines up everything on the table perfectly.
It's fine.
Everything is fine.
All of it.
Aubrey is fine.
She's fine.
Beca doesn't come back inside the room with Chloe's mom – probably because of Aubrey.
There is no probably.
It's because of Aubrey.
But whatever.
Aubrey doesn't need her.
She's fucking fine.
"Aubrey…" Julia tries to get her attention.
Aubrey doesn't need Beca. Or Chloe's mom. Or Chl-.
Aubrey halts her own thoughts when they go too far.
How could she fucking think that she doesn't need Chloe?
How dare she?
Now, if Chloe dies…it's because she thought that.
Aubrey makes use of the new range of motion in her arm, swiping it across the table, sending everything so perfectly arranged flying across the room – ruining any chance she has of even seeing Chloe by sending the plate of food she's supposed to be eating clattering to the ground.
And when Chloe dies alone, because neither Aubrey nor her mom are there, let that be Aubrey's fault too.