Hey, this is a little better time frame, right? Gotta say a huge thanks to everyone for your kind words on the last chapter about my unplanned hiatus between updates. It meant the world to me. Thank you very much. This is ended up longer than I planned but I hope that's a good thing.

Ch 18

Beca had been through a lot of rough days in her life. A lot of downright shitty days. She'd never made a list, but if she did, the fugue-like mesh of her three-day detox would certainly be on it somewhere. At least when she'd gotten bad enough to go to the hospital, she was too out of it to remember much of the experience.

But in Barden, with nurses and meds to keep the worst of the symptoms at bay, she felt every bit of it. Sweats and shakes and headaches and nausea. She felt every second and it was awful. Thankfully, it seemed her chatty roommate knew enough about the misery she was going through to give her space when they were both in the room.

She was also grateful that the staff were used to temperamental jerks coming down so her harsh words didn't faze them. When she came around on the fourth day, she was feeling a bit better physically and almost instantly wanted two things: a shower and a phone call.

It was the first day she was allowed to have contact with Chloe, and she was desperate to hear her voice. So, after a quick, hot shower, Beca dressed and felt human enough to grab the first person in scrubs she found to ask about phone call protocols. Basically, as long as it's not time for any of her therapies or activities she was free to use the phone. A check of her schedule told her she only had around ten minutes before her session with Dr. Junk. Beca practically ran down the hall to where she'd been shown the phone banks were and grabbed the first available one she saw.

Dialing the number, her thumb found its way between her teeth as she waited anxiously through the ringing. Her heart pounded as she began to get the treacherous thought that Chloe wouldn't answer.

Afterall, why would she? She was probably already sick of whatever backlash was coming her way because of this. She surely figured out by then that everything Beca had told her at the beginning of this was true. She didn't need the extra baggage that she dragged along with her.

She probably had already forgotten about her. Out of sight, out of mind. She should jus-

"Hello?"

The sweet voice cut through her rampaging thoughts and Beca suddenly realized she'd been holding her breath until hearing Chloe's musical voice allowed her to breathe again.

"Hello?" Chloe said again, letting Beca know she'd been quiet too long.

"Chloe?" she managed to get out before she could get annoyed at the silence and hang up.

"Beca?" her voice raising with excitement, "Beca! Oh my God, it's so good to hear your voice. How are you? Are you ok? How's it going?"

Beca chuckled as the excitement washed over her negativity like a soothing balm.

"I'm fine. It's fine. I just…" God, was she tearing up? Who was she anymore? She took a slow breath, "I can't believe how much I miss you."

She could hear the smile in Chloe's voice as she responded, "I miss you too, baby."

"Ugh, you've made me soft, Beale. I should go start a fight or something to make up for it."

Beca felt herself relax even more as Chloe laughed and she leaned her shoulder against the wall.

"So, what's it like out there in the world?"

"Nothing exciting. Everyone on set seems pretty understanding and supports what you're doing."

"Even John?" she asked, already sure she knew the answer.

"Well, you know how he is. Regular ball of sunshine," she answered, "Good news is we've got so much in the can they think with a few small rewrites we'll be able to finish on time anyway. Though I admit I miss my favorite scene partner."

"You just miss my awesome jokes."

"Corny jokes, you mean," Chloe teased, the lightness of it all settling deep in Beca's chest. It gave her courage to ask about the less pleasant part of things.

"What about the rest?" she asked cautiously, "Are they…bugging you? You know, about all this?"

Chloe's sigh blew through the speaker before she spoke.

"It's not that bad."

"Chloe," she prodded, "Come on. I can't use the internet or anything here. I don't care if they're talking shit about me; are they bothering you is what matters."

"Ok," Chloe relented, "They're being a little pushier than normal, but it's nothing I can't handle."

"I want you to call Donald, ok? Tell him I want you to have his best guys with you when you go out."

"Babe, I'm not getting bodyguards. It's not necessary."

"If these assholes are bothering you- "

"Beca, I appreciate it, I do, but I swear it's not that bad."

Beca sighed and rubbed her temple, "Promise me if it gets worse, you'll call? Please?"

"I promise," she said and after a moment, "Look I know you have a lot on your plate right now, and I don't want to add to it, but…"

"But?"

"I talked to your mom and- "

"You what?" Beca asked, terrified at that awful woman being alone with Chloe, "Why would you do that?"

"I'm sorry, ok? I just thought she should know what's going on. As your manager and your mother."

Beca groaned, "And how did that go?"

"Not great, honestly."

"I could've told you that," Beca bit her lip before telling Chloe, "She came here."

"What? What happened?"

"I don't know. I heard her demanding to see me in the lobby and I hid in the therapist's office. I don't think she's been back yet. Maybe they told her the rules, I don't know. I might ask if there's a list or something I can put her name on to keep her from visits."

"That's a good idea," she agreed, "There's something else though."

"More good news?"

Chloe paused and that only made Beca worry about what it could be.

"Aubrey said something when we were talking with your mom, and I think- "

"Sorry Beca," a new voice came along with a tap on her shoulder, "It's time for your therapy. Dr. Junk is waiting."

"Ok, just a second," she told her, "What'd she say Chloe?"

"It's ok. You have to go," she replied, having heard the background voice rushing Beca off the phone. Chloe decided it wasn't something she wanted to leave Beca with if they couldn't really talk about it, "We'll talk about it next time."

"Are you sure?" she asked, "If it's important- "

"Nothing is more important than what you're doing. I'm one hundred percent sure," she assured, "You just focus on therapy and having break throughs and all the good stuff. Ok?"

"I'll do my best," Beca promised, even as the nerves began to stir again at the thought of digging into her own brain and life.

"Good. I love you."

"I love you, too," she answered in a thick voice, "I'll see you soon, right?"

"Day after tomorrow. I've already cleared my schedule."

"Can't wait."

"Beca," the nurse said again, getting a nod this time, "Ok. I gotta go. I love you."

She took a slow breath after hanging up and followed along to Dr. Junk's office. The woman was writing something in a file when Beca entered and she suddenly feared it had something to do with her being late.

"Beca, good morning."

"Morning," she cleared her throat, "Sorry I'm late."

"Just a couple minutes. Nothing to worry about," she put Beca at ease and put away her notes, "Out of curiosity, what were you doing?"

"I was on the phone," she answered vaguely, receiving an amused laugh in response.

"Didn't waste any time, huh?" she said, "Trust me, that's normally how it goes. Anyone special?"

Beca couldn't keep the tease of smile that pulled at her lips, "Very."

Dr. Junk smiled and opened her file for Beca's sessions.

"All right," she began, "I hate to be cliché right now, but it's part of the job. Tell me about your childhood."

Beca scoffed and ran her hands over the arms of the chair, "Just ask my friend, Google."

"Do you often respond with sarcasm to avoid delicate topics?"

Beca groaned in frustration, "Fine. What do you want to know? Did mommy hug me? Did daddy love me enough? That sort of shit?"

Dr Junk tilted her head and folded her hands under her chin, "Well, since you brought it up; how was your relationship with your parents?"

Beca ran a hand through her hair, recalling how she told Chloe she would do her best.

"Let's see, nothing was ever good enough for my mother. She hated her life. She always demanded more; better. I don't think I ever saw the woman smile until I got my first gig, and after that it was full speed ahead at any cost to keep getting more and more and bigger and bigger. Been that way ever since and I don't expect it to ever change," she finished her rant and shrugged, "Old dogs, new tricks and all that."

Dr. Junk nodded a few times as she made a note of some kind.

"Sounds a bit rough," she noted, "Did she ever take any of her unhappiness out on you?"

Beca narrowed her eyes for a moment, "I wasn't abused if that's what you're asking."

"It's not," she explained, "I just asked if your mother's dissatisfaction with her own life was ever directed at you in some way."

Beca looked at her lap and started picking at her fingers.

"I guess. I mean, she wanted excellence and wasn't shy about letting me know that anything average was a failure. Our house. Her marriage. My grades. Whatever."

"That couldn't have been easy for you at any age, let alone a child."

Beca shrugged again, attempting indifference, "Yeah, well."

She avoided the doctor's eyes in the moments of silence that followed afterward. She tried not to wonder what the scratching sound of the pen translated to. What sort of shrink thoughts was she having about her?

"What about your father?"

Beca looked up at what seemed like a sudden question.

"What about him?"

"I asked about your parents, but you only mentioned your mother," she pointed out, "What was your father like growing up?"

Beca looked back down and started playing with the hem of her shirt.

"I don't want to talk about him," she mumbled.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't," she said a bit stronger.

Dr. Junk studied her silently, taking in her body language and judging whether to push on the topic. Making her decision, she leaned forward just a bit and spoke softly.

"Did he hurt you?"

"What?! No," Beca answered quickly, looking up in shock, "No, he would never…he was my best friend."

Her eyebrows lifted, "Was?"

Beca cleared her throat, "He left."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. How old were you?"

"Ten," she answered quietly, "Eleven, almost. He packed a bag and left in the middle of the day. Haven't heard from him since."

"That must've been incredibly difficult for you," she replied gently, "Do you think you have any resentment or anger towards him for it?"

Beca was quiet for a minute, "Not him."

"Your mother?"

Beca shook her head and confessed, "Me."

Dr. Junk hummed and set her pen down.

"It's not unusual for young children to blame themselves for their parents splitting up," she began, "A feeling that it's something they've or didn't do to cause it. But as common as it is, it's not at all a burden meant for a child to carry."

"No, it's not- "she stopped and tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling, "I don't blame myself for him leaving. I don't even blame him for leaving. They never should've been married to begin with. They only got married because they got pregnant."

"They told you that?"

"She did. More than once," Beca answered nonchalantly and Dr. Junk made a quick note to herself for something that needed a conversation of its own.

"Ok, what about him leaving caused you to be angry with yourself?"

Beca opened and closed her mouth a few times before confessing, "Because he tried to take me with him."

Beca heard their voices increasing in volume as the fight continued. She stopped practicing on the small guitar her dad got for her when he realized her desire to be taught was not a fleeting impulse. She loved having her own so they could play together as she learned.

She put it down beside her on the bed as it sounded like their voices continued to rise and echo through the house. She was used to them arguing, but there was something different about this time. The usual pit it caused in her stomach felt ten sizes bigger for some reason. She picked up the sheet of audition lines she was meant to be studying. She tried to read through it quickly in case her mom decided to test whether she had been up there practicing the whole time like she was supposed to.

Of course, that was easier said than done. Especially as it suddenly sounded like their voices were now in the hall.

"…like you would ever actually follow through with something in your life!"

"I mean it Ange, it's enough! I'm not standing by and watching you do this to her anymore!"

"Do what? Try to make something of herself? God forbid does something to rise above this bullshit you think is a life!"

"She's a child! Let her be a child! She's perfectly happy when she gets a chance to act her age. Why-Why is that so impossible for you to understand?"

"You mean acting like a moron! You act like I'm the bad guy and you're so high and mighty because you're content to stay in mediocrity and keep everyone around you in the same. I'm looking out for her! Lord knows she'll get no where on her brains."

"Stop it! You look out for yourself and no one else. I'm done. I'm done!"

The shouting finally ended when her door opened and Beca shoved her nose into the page as fast as she could so her mom didn't know she stopped to play instead.

Warren entered and came right to her, squatting down in front of where she sat on the bed.

"Hey sweetie," he greeted, his voice completely different from the shouting angry one that had just been outside her door, "Do you have your backpack?"

Beca bit her lip, thinking about the glaring, red 'D' sitting in her bag waiting to be seen. She wondered if the teacher called and told them. It would explain their fighting. Her mom did mention morons. Feeling her stomach twist even more, she went to get her bag from the corner and brought it over; pulling out the graded test, she handed it over all too aware of her mother watching from the doorway.

"I'm sorry," she said sadly, "I tried, really. I got confused. I'm sorry."

Warren looked at the bleeding page she held out for him, not surprised that she assumed that's what he was asking for. He was always the one who took an interest in her schoolwork beyond what was on her report card. He took it from her hand and set it aside, out of her sight, and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"It's ok, grasshopper, don't you worry about that right now," he comforted, and carefully took her bag from her and, "I want you to grab some clothes and your toothbrush, and anything else you want to bring right now, and pack it in your bag ok? If it doesn't fit, that's ok, we can just put it in the car or come back for it later. Alright? Can you do that for me?"

"Where we going?" Beca questioned with confusion. Her mom was the one that took her for out of town auditions, and even then she was the one who packed for her to make sure she only had what she needed.

"We're going away for a little bit. Me and you," he told her, "Would you like that?"

Beca perked up.

"Like a vacation?" she asked, excitement dripping from her voice. She always wanted a vacation like the kids in her classes would talk about. Not a trip to go audition and come right back, a real vacation just for fun.

"No," her mother said firmly, reminding them that she was still there, "Not a vacation. Your father wants you to give up. Is that what you want Beca? To give up? Be a loser?"

"Stop that!" Warren snapped, looking at her over his shoulder, "Don't fill her head with that stuff."

Beca fiddled with her fingers, and mumbled quietly, "I don't want to be a loser."

"No, honey, no," her dad said quickly, "You aren't. You never will be. I promise. I'm just going away for a while and I want you to come with me, sweetheart."

"For how long?"

"I don't know, honey. A while," he sighed; he didn't know how to have this conversation right then when everyone's emotions were all over the place, "Do you want to come with me? Take a big break from everything?"

"Do I still gotta do auditions?" she asked carefully, feeling her mom's eyes burning while she refused to risk looking over at her.

"Only if you want."

Beca thought it sounded fun. To go with her dad and not worry about them anymore or be around her mom when she was upset that Beca didn't do well enough to get picked.

She lifted her eyes nervously to look at her mom, "Can I?"

Angela crossed her arms as she looked at her daughter.

"Of course, you can. If you want to go, you can go," she replied; quickly continuing before the happiness could settle in the girl, "Just remember what it means if you go. It means you're quitting. And if you quit, all the work you've done means nothing."

"Angela! Enough!"

"Everything I've done for you was for nothing. And you'll never be able to make up for it."

"Don't listen to her, sweetie," Warren tried to distract her.

"It's a failure and it always will be."

"Shut up!" Warren snapped and pushed Angela back from the doorway and closed it; shutting her out before he did something he'd regret. He leaned his head against the door for a moment to gather his temper before returning to Beca.

"Beca, don't listen to what she said, ok. She's just…upset. She didn't mean it ok?" he could see the words had landed and his little girl was near tears, "Hey, don't listen to that. Just tell me what you want. Ok? What do you want to do?"

Beca felt the tears threatening as she had that day. Forcing words out around the lump in her throat.

"He wanted me to go with him," she repeated, "I said no."

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A/N: So, we got a little bit of therapy. Little bit of Beca backstory. Hope you liked