FromTumblr: There will be more Mitchsen to come.
Pixie1913: You'll find out what it is soon enough.
SunDanceQT: Like Aubrey said, it's a very close race.
Mwallace: I am trying to read your tone, and failing.
96itadakimasu96: Aubrey will inquire more into Beca's thought process soon.
Guest: Thank you for your support. I hate people.
Dysrhythmia
I know exactly what I want and who I wanna to be;
I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine.
I'm now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy.
- Marina and the Diamonds
"Aubrey, it's three o'clock in the morning. What are you doing?"
"I'm reorganizing our books by volume," Aubrey announced. She had a book in one hand and a ruler in another, with a large quantity of other books spread out across the entire room – on their beds, desks, the floor. There was still a pile left to be done in the corner.
"Why?" Chloe stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind her.
Why? That was the question, wasn't it. Because if she didn't… Aubrey really didn't know what would happen if she didn't, but it wouldn't be good, and the impulse to do it was impossibly strong. "It will make it easier to pack them later." If they ever needed to pack them. Now that they were living in the Bellas house, if Alice let Aubrey live there much longer after Pukegate, they could just stay. That was a good reason though. If Alice kicked her out, she would need to pack her things – and it would be easier to know what would fit in each box this way.
Chloe looked around, confused. "Well, can we put some back on the shelf?" She bent down to pick one up.
"Chloe, stop!"
Chloe let the book remain on the floor and stood up straight again.
"I still have some to put in order," Aubrey explained, "And then I'm going to put them back." One at a time, from highest volume to lowest.
"How long have you been at this?" Chloe asked.
Long enough that her head was pounding and her eyes burned, but not long enough for her to fall asleep on a pile of books. Aubrey refused to look at her, instead inventorying the amount of books she had accomplished.
"Are you okay?"
Why wouldn't she be? Aubrey nodded.
"I can help you put-"
"No," Aubrey cut her off. She had to do it on her own. "Just…go shower, and I'll put everything on the shelves."
Chloe stepped around the books, perfectly spaced out to leave room for walking, because Aubrey had thought of that, to get to her closet. She pulled out a t-shirt and shorts to wear to bed, then made her way over to where Aubrey was standing perfectly straight and still. "Bree," she paused, "I'm saying this because I love you; this is getting out of hand."
Aubrey flinched as Chloe reached for her arm. "Don't touch me." Chloe couldn't touch her until she was finished. She wrapped her arms around herself, and tucked her hands, her knuckles red and dry from washing them too much in burning hot water, away from Chloe's line of view.
"Try to clear off one of the beds, at least," Chloe said softly.
Yep. Aubrey nodded her head again.
Chloe quietly walked out.
Aubrey stared at her hard work, fending off a wave of nausea, as what she had done caught up with her, stripping away her pride in it, leaving her frightened of it instead.
xxxxx
It doesn't matter that neither Beca nor Aubrey want to speak about what they've experienced. It doesn't matter whether or not they even can. Everybody everywhere begins to bombard them with questions. Aubrey's room goes from quiet to a flurry of people coming in and out – inquiring about absolutely everything, trying to make demands, talking about 'options' like Witness Protection, saying it may not be safe to go home. Families are starting to come forward with questions. The media wants to know what happened and if anyone survived. A floodgate opens up and begins trying to wear down what appears to be their strong wills – when, in reality, it's shock and fear that's being intensified by the fine print that comes with surviving.
It feels like the questioning goes on for hours. For days. But every time Aubrey glances at the clock, barely any time has passed. Fifteen minutes. Twenty. Thirty, if she's lucky.
They separate her from Beca, and try to speak to her alone.
The psychologist comes back.
Some people are patient.
Others make threats that she could receive jail time for refusing to cooperate.
And even when Aubrey tries to give them what they want, her throat and airways close up, restricting all the oxygen to her lungs.
No one knows quite what to do with her when Officer Drydick or whatever his name is shows her a picture of what remains of the docks, and she starts mostly just dry heaving over one side of the bed. They locate Chloe's mom, who manages to clear the room with one furious glance then rubs her back until she can catch her breath and calls for a nurse to clean up the floor.
Brian finally provides some relief. He claims that maybe he can get Aubrey to talk, then sits in the corner and plays on his phone.
Beca returns when she sees the coast is clear – and they both fall asleep, Beca on her cot, completely covered by her blanket, and Aubrey hunched forward over the table, next to an empty hospital bucket, with the blanket as a pillow and Chloe's mom playing with her hair until she's completely out.
And, when she wakes up, the process starts all over, and it's like she's reliving the entire day – pushing her lunch around on her plate in patterns until everyone wants to try talking to her again.
xxxxx
Aubrey put the books away, slowly, quietly, one by one, after she finished measuring the rest of them. The time of night became more evident with Chloe being home; usually, she would have been asleep hours ago. She kept her eyes focused on the task at hand, about one-third done with cleaning up, when Chloe walked back into the room.
"Let me help you pick them up."
"I can do it," Aubrey snapped. She had to do it herself. It wasn't an option for Chloe to help. She softened her tone. "Your bed is clear."
Chloe sat down on the edge of it. "You're exhausted."
Aubrey shook her head.
"It's almost four o'clock. You have to get up at seven for class."
Six, if she wanted to go jogging. "I'm almost finished."
"Okay, why don't you just sleep over here, and you can finish it tomorrow?" Chloe suggested.
"No," Aubrey answered. That wasn't an option. She couldn't just finish it another time. "I am going to do it right now."
"I'm tired," Chloe tried a different tactic.
"Well, it's not my fault that you decided to stay out all night long," Aubrey informed her. Chloe had been staying out a lot again after Aubrey royally fucked up the rest of everyone's year – and lives, probably. Good for her though. At least people still talked to her.
Chloe didn't have anything to say to that.
People were still friends with Chloe. Not that Aubrey really had all that many friends to begin with. But no one was making fun of Chloe. The only people even talking to her about it were the ones saying what a good 'friend' she was for trying to help Aubrey in that god-awful YouTube video, and for still being willing to show her face around her. Chloe, the Good Samaritan.
Aubrey adjusted the next book perfectly on the shelf, just like the rest of them. And then the next one. And the next. Textbooks. Workbooks. Notebooks. Novels. "Stop looking at me."
"I can never stop looking at you," Chloe told her, "You're beautiful."
That was not why Chloe was looking at her. Aubrey shook her head. "Stop, Chloe."
Chloe stood up. "It's taken you five minutes to put away three books. Come on." She eased her copy of The Princess Bride from Aubrey's hands, then placed it on the shelf, next to one of Aubrey's textbooks from two years ago. She was reluctant to sell them. What if she needed to look something up in one of them? What if she needed to review?
Aubrey reached to fix the book, because it was wrong; it wasn't lined up right, but Chloe gently grabbed her hand. She was going to have to redo all of it. She yanked her hand away and sunk down into her desk chair, lowering her head to the desk. She was going to have to redo every single book. She didn't even want to finish it, let alone restart. She lifted her head a few centimeters, then bumped her forehead against the desk in frustration and a poor attempt to think of something else. The second time she did it, her head landed in Chloe's hand instead of hitting the desk.
"Why didn't you call me?" Chloe asked, "I would have come home."
Aubrey subtly wiped her face. She couldn't ask Chloe for help with this. She couldn't let Chloe deal with this at all. "I'm going to take care of it," she announced, and stood back up. She had to. She backed up away from Chloe. "I'm going to fix it." Only, what if she couldn't? Maybe this is what genetics and bad luck destined her life to be.
"We can worry about that tomorrow. Right now, let's go to bed."
We. Both of them. Chloe was being dragged into this, and Aubrey knew what that was like.
