Five years.
Beca leaned forward as she sat on the bench, her hands clasped in her lap. She took in the scene before her. To anyone unfamiliar with the location, it would just appear to be another regular high school. Wide grassy area butted up against diagonal parking spots. Brick and white buildings haphazardly placed, clearly not part of any master planning. Off in the distance, a football field peeked around the corner, surrounded by lots rapidly filling with cars. The solitary flagpole hoisting a flag - raised half mast and whipping in the breeze. Just a regular high school on a regular day.
Except it wasn't.
This was the place where Beca Mitchell's life shattered. This was the place where evil and hatred rudely interjected themselves into her world, destroying her entire understanding of life itself. This was the center of Hell.
Five years. It had been five years since she drove her Mini Cooper past this bench, turned right on that road, crept back to that parking lot. Five years since she went through her usual day, heading to class, smiling and greeting students. Five years since she took a break in the chorus room, listening to her music on her laptop. Five years since she was wheeled out on a stretcher and whisked away in an ambulance. Five years since she had set foot on this campus.
"They said they were saving a spot for us, but I couldn't find it anywhere. Sorry it took so long." Slender fingers rested on Beca's shoulders, the ring finger proudly displaying a dark metal ring. Beca followed the arm up to see Chloe smiling down at her. "Were you able to let them know you were here?" Beca shook her head softly. Chloe had dropped her off at the front while she parked so that Beca could go check in. But that didn't happen. The short walk from the parking lot to this bench was too much, so she had just stopped here and waited. Waited for Chloe - her rock, her love, her life. "Ok. I'm here now. Do you want to go in?" The redhead studied the brunette's face, reading for messages unspoken. "Wecan still leave … at any time."
Beca shook her head, stood up, and exhaled. "No, I want to … need to…" She grabbed Chloe's hand tightly. They walked together through the front doors of the school.
The interior of the school presented a stark contrast to the quiet exterior. It was a hive of activity. Faculty bustled about. Camera crews wandered around. A large object towered in the middle of the quad, dwarfing the mingling crowd. It was covered by a large blue sheet which had been tied down. A check in table sat in front of the mystery item and two ladies chatted at seats behind it. Beca and Chloe approached the table. One of the women sensed the presence and welcomed them before turning fully to greet them with her eyes. "Hi, names please so I…." As she made eye contact with the two women in front of her, her eyes flew open and her hand jerked up to her mouth. "Oh my God,… Beca …." She jumped up and quickly came around the table to embrace her. "You did come…"
Beca nodded softly. "I told you I would," she whispered. The women pulled apart. Beca smiled lightly and gestured to the redhead next to her. "Mrs. Bradley … this is …. my wife Chloe." The teacher flashed a huge smile. "Chlo, this is Mrs. Bradley …. my chorus teacher." The last words were choked out. The emotion of everything was just so much that it threatened to crush Beca's small frame.
Chloe threw a radiant smile to the grey haired woman in front of her. "I'm very pleased to meet you." She extended her hand, but the teacher waved it away and grasped her in a hug. Chloe then slid her arm around Beca's waist and pulled her close. "Thank you for inviting us."
"Of course." Tears sparkled in the woman's eyes as she gazed at the couple. "Beca was …. is …. my favorite …" She swallowed deeply. "It wouldn't be right for her not to be here."
The redhead grinned. "She's my favorite too." Beca blushed at the cheesiness.
Mrs. Bradley smiled a contented smile. She finally knew Beca was okay. For five years, the teacher had carried so much guilt and pain. She had escaped the tragedy because she had been in a workroom across campus. But she lost many friends that day - and one very special student who she was worried she would never see again. But Beca came. The older woman had hoped that maybe she would. Mrs. Bradley just wanted to see for herself that the girl was okay. She had followed Beca's music career from afar. She had read about the three national championships for the Bellas. She had watched the World Championship victory in Amsterdam via live stream. She had viewed and re-viewed her copy of the Love Is Bulletproof concert. So she had seen evidence that Beca was doing well, but she wanted to see it. She watched as Chloe kissed the top of Beca's head and whispered to her. She observed how Beca brightened and regained her posture with each loving connection from her … wife? How was she old enough to be married? The older woman's heart grew as she watched the couple interact. To see that Beca had found someone who obviously adored her. Someone who would be there for her and take care of her. The motherly concern Mrs Bradley felt, the guilt at not being there to protect Beca, the worry that gnawed at her about Beca's future … those all were soothed watching the beautiful sight in front of her. Beca was okay. "You two are … lovely. I'm so happy …. you're here …" Tears streamed down her face - not the first time today and surely not the last. She collected herself. "So your guests have all arrived. I think they all are seated. And we have … everything ready for you."
Beca glanced up in some confusion. Guests? She knew her dad and Sheila had talked about coming, but nothing had been decided. She cleared her throat as she realized she needed to check on one thing. "Um… are there … two mics?"
"No, we just put one…." Mrs. Bradley's eyes flicked back and forth between Beca and Chloe, noticing that the redhead was also unsure about the question.
"Can … can we have two up there?" Beca questioned. "Is it too late?"
"That's an easy fix…. may I ask why you need the second one?" Beca chewed her lip as the teacher continued. "Just so the sound people are clued in."
"I want Chloe to sing with me." Beca turned to her wife. "I need her to sing with me."
Chloe raised her eyebrows and smiled compassionately. "Bec … are you … sure? We haven't practiced … this isn't … about me…."
Resolve replaced hesitation on the brunette's face. "You've sung this with me for weeks. You know the song." She studied the redhead's reactions. "It is about you, because there is no me without you." A slight smirk crept onto her face. "We never get to perform together … in public … anymore."
Chloe's eyebrows shot up, trying to decide which meaning Beca intended with that comment. Catching the smirk, she realized that her wife intended both meanings. "I … would love to … perform … the song … with you." She quirked up one eyebrow and squinted. Her look promised to get Beca back later … not in public.
Mrs. Bradley observed the conversation and chuckled. "You two are adorable." She grabbed a radio and alerted someone on the other end of the mic change. "You ready to head over?"
The football field was packed. The stands were filled, the seats on the grass were all taken. People stood all around the complex, taking in the stage and the large screens mounted on either side. News trucks dotted the complex - not just local ones, either. CNN and FOX both had representatives there. Both channels planned on airing live coverage of the event. Anniversaries of school shooting seemed to be the only time most people remembered they happened. The painful and awkward memories then could be packed back up for most Americans. They could ignore the issue until the next shooting or anniversary. They could bury their guilt at refusing to protect their children. They could go back to believing their own arrogance and selfishness is protected by the Constitution. But these anniversary events popped up every so often like some kind of self-imposed penance where people forced themselves to suffer for a moment. Eventually, there may be one held every weekend. Even that won't change anything.
The people who lived through the events? They didn't have the luxury of packing this up. A day like this was cathartic, a chance to actually have the nation's support for once. But the pain dredged up wasn't unfamiliar. It was a daily wound that never closed.
This ceremony would feature speeches by politicians who will attempt to walk the balance of condemning the event while not promising any action. There will be poetry and essays. Parents and classmates of the fallen will share. Songs will be sung. And then a memorial will be unveiled. Beca could not think of anywhere she wanted to be less than here, but nowhere she needed to be more. She had wrestled with the decision for months.
The last eight months had been exhausting. It began with Spring Break, when Beca proposed to Chloe in Tampa. Then came graduation. Then the trip to Amsterdam for Worlds. Then the wedding. Then the move to New York - Beca taking a job on Broadway, Chloe starting as a music teacher. The fifth anniversary of The Incident loomed over everything like a Dementor, finding ways to interject its darkness into even the brightest moments. For months, Beca had been quite good at pushing those intrusions away, especially with Chloe's support. However, once the chaos of the Summer ended and their normal life began in September, there was plenty of time to just think. And worry. And debate. The closer they got to the anniversary, the worse Beca slept. She started having nightmares again. Even Chloe's nighttime cuddles couldn't keep them at bay. The only thing that would calm her was when the couple would sing softly together until Beca relaxed enough to have Chloe sing her to sleep. After a week straight of broken restless sleep in October, Beca was convinced that she needed to cancel her trip back to Portland. She decided on a Friday and planned to call the school on Monday to tell them. It was the worst weekend she had in years. She and Chloe realized the anniversary was coming no matter what. In New York or Oregon, she was going to have to face it. So they decided to go, hoping confronting that emotional mountain may provide some relief. But they were deliberate about the trip. They didn't arrive too early - just the night before. They stayed at a hotel away from the general area. They told Beca's mom they were coming, but didn't try to force a meetup. And they arrived at the school as close to the ceremony as possible, so they didn't have to deal with too many encounters that could be too tough.
Still, Beca was vibrating as they stood behind the makeshift stage. Chloe held her hand tightly and rubbed her arm. The tender strokes sent soothing waves through her body. She turned to study the woman next to her. Chloe looked radiant; she always looked that way. But today… The couple had talked at length about what to wear for the occasion. In a weird way, obsessing about their outfits distracted Beca from the reality of what the day was about. So many people were wearing black or navy or dark gray to match the somber mood. But Beca was tired of living with the shadows of the shooting over her. If she was going to go, she wanted to make a statement. And Chloe completely agreed. So they stood out in their dresses: Beca in a red wraparound and Chloe in a bright yellow sundress. It was a comment of how this tragedy would not define them. The brunette saw the way her wife's red hair shimmered in the sunlight, how her bright blue eyes sparkled, how her body shone in the bright yellow dress. Chloe brought color to the world. Beca began to cry. The cries grew. Hot tears made their way down her face as she thankfully remembered Chloe's insistence on waterproof mascara that morning. She buckled with sobs. Chloe held her, unsure of what happened to set things off, but not surprised.
"Becs… I've got you … I'll always have you." For minutes, they ignored the droning speeches and just stood together, wrapped in an embrace. Chloe whispered, "You need to see something." Beca looked up questioningly. Chloe turned her wife in her arms and pointed into the crowd. Off to the right of center, just a few rows back… Beca gasped in recognition. Dr. Mitchell and Sheila were seated, listening to a Senator ramble on. On their left sat Chloe's parents with Eric. Next to him sat Adam and Amber. In the row in front of them, Beca saw Aubrey next to Stacie. Emily - the Legacy who joined the year prior - was between them and Amy. In front of them were Flo, Lily, Jessica, Ashley, and Cynthia Rose. The Bellas were all there. They all were arrayed in jewel tones, creating a rainbow of bodies in a corner of the dark outfits all around. Beca's jaw hung open. She tried to form words, to ask how they all could be there, how the Bellas could afford cross country flights. Chloe seemed to read her mind and softly said, "Our parents flew the girls in. We knew you would need your family." Her family - by blood, by law, and by song - were all there. She turned to Chloe and felt a stab in her heart at the sight. Her wife gazed down at her with such love in her eyes. Beca's heart was pierced at the intensity of what she felt in that moment.
Chloe. She had discovered this broken grieving shielded girl, and she had coaxed her back to life. She had taken everything that Beca had lost and restored it to her better than it was before. She brought her friends and family. She gave her music. She showered her with love. The stab in Beca's heart grew and something cracked inside of the brunette woman and began to bubble up. She loved Chloe - this was nothing new to her. But what she was feeling in that moment? It was unlike anything she had felt before. The juxtaposition of being in her darkest place while standing next to her brightest person, surrounded by her glorious family, highlighted just how blessed she was.
As the tears continued to fall, Beca felt a strange sensation. Her chest grew warm, which then began to spread into her limbs. Soon she felt warm all over. At first, she worried she was having a panic attack. But this was completely different. It felt like she was being washed from within. The lingering remnants of pain and grief burned away. It felt like the first time she sang in the showers at Barden. Cleansing and healing. She was here, in the source of the depths of her despair. And she was alive. Thanks to this amazing woman by her side, the Bellas in the audience, her family. They had saved her. She was overwhelmed by wave after wave of purifying emotion. She held tight to Chloe's hand, staring into her bright blue eyes. Chloe smiled down at her. Beca finally was able to voice something she had wanted to say from at the table in the quad. "I want you to sing with me because the song is about you." Chloe melted at the words. "You rescued me, Chlo." They softly kissed and rested their foreheads against each other.
A man's voice echoed through the speakers. "Next up, we have a song from someone who is familiar to our school and community. Her beautiful voice and life blessed us so many times over the years. She survived five years ago, but hasn't been able to return to us until today. I'm so proud to have her here with us. Please help me welcome Beca Mitchell and her friend Chloe Beale."
The crowd applauded and a buzz could be heard around the stadium. The Bellas whooped as the couple came up on stage. Chloe flashed a dazzling smile, as always. Beca managed a smile as well. It was small, but not sad. It was clear she had been crying - no way to hide that. The women walked up to their mic stands and realized that they were at the wrong ones. Beca's mic was at her hairline while Chloe's was at her chest. Everyone chuckled as the ladies swapped places. The silliness of the moment was just what Beca needed to break through the anxiety she felt. "Hi. Um… Just a couple of things I wanted to say first … I'm not always good with the talking, so bear with me." People laughed. "It'sactually Beca Beale-Mitchell and this is … my wife Chloe." Their vocal fan section cheered loudly. "This is the first time I've been back here since …. I was broken after it … My whole life was just … gone… I couldn't understand why it happened … I tried to protect myself from ever feeling so hurt again." Somehow after so many tears earlier, she felt them running down her cheeks. They weren't the hot ones she had felt backstage. These were cool and clear. Not from pain. "I didn't know how to come back from it … but … well only one thing could bring me back." She looked over at Chloe, then down to the teary colorful group in the seats. "Love." She turned her head again to study her wife's face, observing her glistening eyes. "Love. That's the only thing that could fix me, that can fix all of us, that can fix this …. mess." She nodded to the music director for him to start counting off. A quiet harmonica and acoustic guitar rang through the speakers. Beca began with a soulful voice.
Love rescue me
Come forth and speak to me
Raise me up and don't let me fall
No man is my enemy
My own hands imprison me
Love rescue me
Many strangers have I met
On the road to my regret
Many lost who seek to find themselves in me
They ask me to reveal
The very thoughts they would conceal
Love rescue me
Chloe joined Beca as they sang the next section, their voices harmonizing and twisting together the way they always had. The way that showed Beca years ago that they were supposed to be together. Horns joined the performance.
And the sun in the sky
Makes a shadow of you and I
Stretching out as the sun sinks in the sea
I'm here without a name
In the palace of my shame
Said, love rescue me
Beca again sang solo, as she met Chloe's gaze with bright intensity. She tried to make sure that her wife understood all of what she was singing in this moment.
In the cold mirror of a glass
I see my reflection pass
See the dark shades of what I used to be
See the(bright blue)* of her eyes
The scarlet of my lies
Love rescue me
Chloe smiled and winked. Then she picked up the next verse.
Yeah, though I walk
In the valley of shadow
Yeah, I will fear no evil
I have cursed thy rod and staff
They no longer comfort me
Love rescue me
The couple smiled as they sang together, alternating and merging and breaking apart.
Sha la la... sha la la la
Sha la la la... sha la la...
Sha la la la... sha la la la
Sha la la la... sha la la
Sha la la la... sha la la la
Sha la la...
I said love, love rescue me
The instrumental picked up, horns making themselves known again as the song shifted from the calm and almost mournful pitch to something much stronger. Something daring and challenging. Beca's voice rang out clear and powerful. Chloe matched her as they swapped lines.
I said love
Climb up the mountains, said love
I said love, oh, my love
On the hill of the son
I'm on the eve of a storm
And my word you must believe in, oh
I said love, rescue me
Oh, yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah
Yeah, I'm here without a name
In the palace of my shame
I said love rescue me
The music receded. The storm that had broken blowing away. Only a light drum beat and guitar continued softly. Beca's voice became the only other instrument.
I've conquered my past
The future is here at last
I stand at the entrance
To a new world I can see
The ruins to the right of me
Will soon have lost sight of me
Love(rescued)* me
The instruments played quietly as Beca and Chloe put their mics back on the stands and embraced each other, indulging in a soft kiss. They walked off the stage as the song quieted. Slowly the crowd applauded and gained in intensity. Soon everyone was on their feet cheering. Tears streamed down faces across the complex.
The entire audience couldn't fit in the quad for the unveiling of the memorial, so it was going to be simulcast on the giant screen at the football field. Most of the participants from the presentation remained on the stage. Certain "special guests" caught golf carts over to the quad. Beca and Chloe started to walk towards the Bellas to look for seats, or to sit in someone's lap. A cart zipped up next to them. Mrs. Bradley was in the driver's seat. "Beca, Chloe. Come on. I'll drive you over there." The couple exchanged confused glances. "We need to head over; they are about to start."
The ladies climbed onto the back seat and the cart sped off. When they arrived at the quad, it had been cleared out except for the memorial shrouded in blue cloth and a handful of dignitaries. A camera crew was filming everything. Beca had no idea why they were there. Other singers and speakers were still back at the field. She glanced over at Chloe, who returned the look with a shrug. They stood away from the main crowd. Once Mrs. Bradley parked the cart, she came up behind the girls and placed her hands on the flats of their backs, pushing them closer to the memorial. The choir director then approached the solitary microphone and began to speak.
"I was tasked with coming up with a fitting memorial for the lives that were tragically cut short five years ago. We had to begin planning this event several years ago, actually. The memorial would take time to design and craft. I had trouble choosing what to do. I talked with … literally hundreds of people. Everyone had wonderful suggestions, but nothing resonated. About three years ago,…" at these words, she turned her focus to Beca and Chloe, "…I watched a brilliant production put on by one of our own - Beca Beale-Mitchell." She smiled at the couple. "It was broadcast from across the country, but I was pulled in as if I was in the front row. Its focus was love. How this world is full of so much hate. So much anger. And how the only way to fight those things is by flooding the world with love. I have known Beca for a very long time, and I know what she has been through. It would have been easy to quit, to succumb to the darkness. But she didn't. She was rescued." She nodded to Chloe and smiled; the redhead blushed as Beca hugged her. "And then she used her bountiful skills to try to rescue others. That night, watching that show, I knew finally what the memorial should be. I contacted the art department at Barden University to see if they could help bring my vision - Beca's vision - to life. Since they had been instrumental to the design of the show, they were thrilled to oblige. Our desire with this memorial is to provide a constant reminder to anyone who walks through this school that hate will not win. Anger will not win. Selfishness, arrogance, ignorance will not win. Because love wins. Love is bulletproof."
With that, she pulled the ropes and the blue fabric fell away. Gasps could be heard from the quad, and a collective intake of air at the football stadium. The memorial stood on a black marble podium. At the center was a stone sculpture of a human heart. The front bore signs of great damage. There were cracks and pits and holes and scratches. The back, though, was pristine. It was gorgeously rendered, smooth and shiny as glass. All of the cracks and pits had been filled in with gold. At the top of the heart were suspended fifteen butterflies, each etched with the name of a victim who had perished that day. On the sides of the podium, the names of all of those who were injured that day were commemorated.
The front of the podium bore the phrase "LOVE IS BULLETPROOF - Beca Mitchell."