Summary: Beca doesn't like to think about it. She doesn't like to think about how she was at her absolute lowest during her junior year of high school, and how getting pregnant, and subsequently giving the baby up for adoption, remains one of the worst memories of her entire life. So, she doesn't think about it. That is, until the child that she was told was going to be easily placed with a loving family, shows up sixteen years later, asking for Beca's help to get emancipated. Now, she doesn't exactly have a choice. Inspired by the CW's Life Unexpected.

Rating: Teen

Content Warning: Content warnings aren't necessarily applicable for the chapters early on, but will become important as the fic progresses. Themes of adoption, foster care, pediatric heart condition, suicide, and death will be included in the plot.

Chapter 1

Every time that Chloe walks into this building, rides the elevator to the top floor, she remembers the first time that her and Beca got to see the space. It had been after she produced her fifth platinum album under her own label. She moved from a run-down studio space in an area of New York City that is certainly not appealing for A-List music clients.

This had been the last listing that the real estate agent had to show them, and Beca instantly fell in love. Her eyes lit up upon exiting the elevator, and the giddy smile on her face didn't leave throughout the entire showing – nor the whole night following the visit. One year of renovations and two years of occupation later, BM Records has settled nicely into their new home.

And Beca has led the growing empire to victory after victory.

Chloe couldn't be prouder.

Simply living life with Beca has reminded Chloe of how hard her wife has worked day in and day out, but she realizes it even more so when she arrives at the label and walks down the hall towards Beca's office, passing record cover after record cover of all of the music Beca has worked on and produced for the world to hear. It brings a smile to her face each and every time.

Even on a night like tonight when it's nearing eight, Chloe's been at the clinic all day, Beca's been working, and they're only just now seeing each other for take-out over Beca's desk. But nevertheless, Chloe is just glad that her long hours as a vet often coincide with Beca's long hours as a music producer, and they're building a life together that they both love.

A smile starts to grow on Chloe's face, her hand resting demurely on her lower abdomen, as the elevator announces its arrival at the top floor.

Her boots click softly against the freshly cleaned floors, the hallway and impending lobby dimly lit due to the fact that the majority of the staff is not around. Chloe shifts the bag of dinner on her arm, waving as the front desk security guard spots her. "Hi, Rueben! How are you doing tonight?"

Rueben looks up from his post, nodding at his visitor but otherwise giving a lackluster display of emotion. "Mrs. Mitchell. I'm well thank you, and yourself?"

Chloe reaches into the bag and pulls out Rueben's usual turkey club on rye, handing it over to the man and ignoring the usage of such a formal title. She's long given up on trying to get Beca's long-time employee to simply call her, Chloe. "Fine, thanks. How was today? Has she emerged from the office yet?"

Rueben takes the sandwich gratefully, giving the woman a small smile, before answering. "Not yet. But I'm going to have to hunt her down pretty soon if she doesn't come out at some point."

Furrowing her eyebrows, Chloe tilts her head to the side in confusion. "Why? What's going on?"

Rueben juts his chin in the direction of the large lounge on the opposite side of the lobby. "Need to see what she wants me to do about her." Chloe follows his gesture until she, too, can see who he is talking about. "She's been here all day. Hasn't caused any trouble. Just been sitting there, so Michael didn't want to kick her out – you know how the other Mrs. Mitchell is about her fans. But we gotta lock up soon, and she looks like she's thirteen at most, so, her folks are probably worried about her…"

Sure enough, there is a young girl – teen – sitting in the far corner of the lounge. Her head is tipped back against the wall, her arms wrapped around her backpack on her lap. Her chest rises and falls at deep, regular intervals, and even with the sound of Chloe and Rueben talking, she doesn't once open her eyes. The lamps on the side table cast a soft glow on her tan skin, and her dark brunette hair is pulled up on top of her head.

There's something about the way she is slouched in her chair, the way that she's folding in on herself, that pulls on something inside of Chloe. That makes her want to walk over to her.

"She didn't say why she was here?"

Rueben shakes his head. "Nope. 'Pparently just said she needed to speak with 'Rebecca Mitchell' and that she wasn't leaving until she did. Mrs. Mitchell's been in and out of meetings all day trying to set up schedules for the rest of year, so she hasn't had a chance to come out. Michael said she's been here since eight, so I doubt she even remembers that she's out here."

Chloe worries her bottom lip. "Hm. Okay. I'll see what I can do. If she just wants an autograph, I can bring it back to Bec myself. We'll get her out of here soon. Thanks, Rueben."

"Of course. Thank you, Mrs. Mitchell. Let me know if you need some assistance with our visitor."

Chloe waves him off with a kind smile, knowing that any sort of help won't be necessary. Interacting with Beca's fans is something she always enjoys doing. "Will do." She turns on her heel, readjusting her bags and straightening the sweatshirt she threw on after changing out of her scrubs, and slowly starts to make her way over to the girl.

Chloe's expression softens even more as she approaches the corner of the lobby. When she gets closer, it becomes abundantly clear that the young girl is, in fact, sleeping. The corner of her mouth twitches with every other breath and her head hangs at an angle that would be far too uncomfortable to bear should she be awake. She does seem to be around thirteen or fourteen, younger than the few people in Beca's fanbase. Not many recognize the name posted on the back of the album, only that of the artist, but there are a select few who appreciate Beca's work so much that they'll camp out in the lobby of the label for hours on end just to get a chance to meet their idol.

Beca, who knows better than most how important a good role model is, especially to the young, quiet folks that look up to her. She swore at the beginning of her career that she would never disregard the people that admire her. it's something that Chloe amazes most about how Beca handled her sudden welcome into the world of fame.

Which is why Chloe has no qualms in helping this little girl meet Beca.

Chloe kneels down beside the chair, laying her bags to the side. "Excuse me… kiddo?"

When her words do little to wake the girl, Chloe gently places her hand where the girl's are clasped around her bag. The result is Beca's visitor waking with a start, eyes flying open and a gasp for air emerging from her lips.

Chloe startles backward, holding her hands gently out in front of her in apology. "I am so sorry to have scared you. Are you okay?"

Light hazel eyes meet Chloe's cerulean orbs, the girl's chest heaving up and down as she tries to focus on the woman in front of her. She runs a hand over her face, then over the sweatshirt covering her chest, and finally leans her head backward with a quiet groan. "Shit. Did I fall asleep?"

A small, almost hesitant laugh, escapes Chloe's control. She nods, the usual kind and caring spark emanating from her as she speaks. "You did. I hear you've been camped out here for quite a while, my friend."

The girl straightens, stretching out her neck and taking a peek at the time on her phone. She flinches at the sight, whispering another quiet swear, more to herself than anyone else. "Yeah – I know. Did I miss her?"

Chloe shakes her head, moving to the seat beside the girl. "Beca? No. No, she's still very much here. Would you be able to tell me why you want to talk with her? I have a little bit of a pull to get you in there."

Chloe finishes her sentence with a wink, that of which goes right over the girl's head, who, instead, runs her hand over her face again in frustration. "I just need to talk to her. I'll be quick, I promise. And I – I really need to see her today."

There's an air of urgency to the girl's claim, one that puts Chloe slightly on edge. "Okay, well why don't we start with your name? Then I can see about pulling her away from her work."

The girl straightens, letting out a heavy breath. "Can you actually get her out here? I just need to talk to her. It'll be like ten minutes, tops."

Confusion wrestling with her better judgement, Chloe caves easily. "I can. But I need to know your name, first, sweetie."

The girl clearly battles internally with Chloe's request, her eyes flicking around the lobby as though calculating the amount of time she has to either run and leave or run into Beca's office. She must see Rueben, though, who is watching her as closely as he has been since Chloe arrived, because she eventually turns back to her. "Kiara."

"Kiara." Chloe repeats the name as though trying out what it sounds like, before her smile grows once more. "Okay. I'll go get Beca. It's nice to meet you, Kiara."

Kiara simply nods in acknowledgement, sinking back into her chair in defeat. Chloe, not knowing what else to say, pushes herself from her seat, and heads down the familiar path to Beca's office.

There are things that Beca absolutely loves about her job. The music, the people, getting to do what she loves to do, day in and day out. Then there are other things – administrative work, scheduling, signing off on contracts and finances – that Beca couldn't despise more.

And, naturally, on a rainy Monday like today, the tasks that she despises are the ones that have filled up her schedule.

She hasn't gotten the opportunity to step into the studio all day, and instead has been working away at planning her clients' recording schedules so that they can stay on track through the early months of the following year, all in preparation for Beca's upcoming leave of absence. She knows the planning will be worth it in the end, but her eyes are aching from staring at a computer screen all day, her lower back is throbbing, and she this beat that has been stuck in her head for the last five hours that she just can't shake.

But as she stretches out her neck and rolls her shoulders back to ease some of the tension that has settled deep into her muscles, a slight movement at her office door catches her eye. More accurately, a flash of undeniable red hair as a certain someone peeks into the window makes Beca break out into a beaming grin, not even having to supply an answer until Chloe is opening the door and entering the office.

"Hey, beautiful."

Chloe laughs that melodic laugh that still causes butterflies to erupt in Beca's stomach. "Hey, yourself. How is work going?"

Beca pushes herself away from her desk, opening her arms wide as Chloe comes to settle in them. "It's fine. Busy, but it'll be worth it." Chloe starts to step away, but Beca keeps her hands on her wife's lower back, bringing a kiss to the small swell of her abdomen. "How are you feeling? Did you have a good day?"

"It was busy… lots of check-ups, but otherwise not bad. Baby Mitchell was quiet, too."

Beca can't help the smile that spreads on her face. The same one that is always there with even the slightest mention of the baby. Both Beca and Chloe had wanted to wait until they were settled into their careers before trying, and luckily, with only two rounds of IVF, Chloe was able to conceive. Only seven more months until the due date, and neither women could be more excited.

"Glad to hear it. Want to sit down? I still have a little bit of work to finish up here but then I'll be ready to go. Have you eaten yet?"

Chloe holds up the bag of sandwiches instead, capturing Beca's hand and hoping that the worry that she is feeling – the confusion about the girl out in the lobby – isn't fully portrayed on her face.

She isn't sure what to make of the girl. Usually, requests from fans typically start at autograph and end with a 'can you listen to my, blank'. This one – just to talk to Beca, or Rebecca as Kiara had referred to her as, makes Chloe slightly uneasy and she can't exactly figure out why. "Before we start eating though… did you know that there is still a girl outside waiting for you?"

Beca's eyebrows briefly furrow, before her jaw drops with the recollection of the fact that Michael had, in fact, told her early this morning that a fan had arrived at the label. She scrunches her face in frustration. "I totally forgot. She's still out there?"

Chloe nods and holds Beca's hand even tighter. "She just said she wanted to talk to you and that she'd be quick. Probably looking for some sort of advice or something. But it's also getting pretty late, so—"

"No—yeah, absolutely. Let me just go see what's going on. You can start eating, I'll be quick."

Chloe shrugs, following Beca to the door. "I'll come and introduce you. She seems sweet. Her name's Kiara… probably like fourteen or so…"

Hand-in-hand, Beca leads Chloe down the hallway, giving a Rueben a brief wave as they pass his desk. "That young?"

"I don't know. It's my best guess." They come to a pause just outside of the view of the rest of the lobby, Chloe motioning to the corner of the room. "There she is."

Beca follows Chloe's gaze to the armchairs across the space. Sure enough, there is the young girl, her hair pulled back into a single, messy braid, staring out the window with her backpack on her lap. She's fiddling with a ring that's on her finger, the metal catching the light ever so slightly. Her leg is bouncing up and down, too, nerves seeming to radiate off of her.

Even from where they're standing, Beca can tell that it's a different kind of nervous. Not the oh-my-goodness-I'm-meeting-a-celebrity, nervous. But something with a bit more anxiety, one that worries Beca without even knowing what she's walking in to.

But of course, she's not going to leave the girl hanging. Well, not any more than she already has. She takes a deep breath, gives Chloe's hand one last squeeze, and starts the short walk across the lobby. The corner of her mouth quirks up into a smile. "Hey, you must be Kiara?"

The girl jumps in her chair, startled, once more, by the greeting. Beca watches as her eyes widen in recognition, a pair of light hazel eyes slowly looking her up and down, as though trying to make sure that Beca is real. Her voice is quiet when she finally speaks. "You're Rebecca? Rebecca Mitchell?"

With a confused tilt of her head, Beca looks at Chloe, before turning back to Kiara. Earrings dot the young girl's ears, a bulky sweatshirt covering her body. Her skin is a few shades tanner than Beca's, but even so, there's an underlying paleness to her features. "I am, though not many people call me that anymore. Just Beca, is fine."

Kiara gives her a slow nod, still looking her up and down, and every once in a while, looking behind her at Chloe. She stares at her, never speaking, not really moving. Beca can't help but shift uneasily on her feet.

"Kiara, you said that you wanted to talk with Beca about something?" Chloe's voice comes out as grounding as it always does, Beca clinging on to it as she wavers under the girl's gaze.

Kiara's eyes flick over to Chloe as her hand nervously rubs her chest. "Um… yeah." She clears her throat, Beca feeling as though hours are ticking by. There's something about her – something that Beca can't quite put a finger on – that is truly stopping any functioning thought from coming through.

It's why Beca barely hears Kiara once she starts speaking again.

"Yeah, I'm uh… my name's Kiara. Mitchell. Kiara Mitchell. I'm your daughter."

Kiara would be lying if she said she hadn't imagined this moment for the majority of her life. That she hadn't imagined what her mom looked like, that she hadn't imagined what her job was and if she had a new family with a husband and a white picket fence and the whole 2.5 kids thing.

She'd be lying if she hadn't imagined different stories, different reasons, as to why her mother had given her up for adoption before she was even born.

These are the kind of thoughts that kept her awake at night. Mostly when she was younger, sporadically as she grew older. But ones that, nevertheless, stuck around.

That being said, it takes a minute for her mind to catch up with her when the woman that she has waited fifteen years, eleven months, and twenty days to meet, is standing in front of her. To be fair, she is absolutely exhausted. Sneaking out of the house at six o'clock in the morning and traveling three hours by bus to reach her – supposed – mother's recording label, and then sitting around all day, can be draining for any average person, let alone Kiara. So, she's exhausted, and overwhelmed, and mildly terrified because she fell asleep and didn't realize that she had stayed so late and that she won't get back to the house until at least eleven and Lena is going to be pissed at her…

All of that plus the fact that her mother is standing right in front of her, gives her a completely valid reason to simply... stare. Stare at the woman who has denied her existence for the last sixteen years and take in every aspect of her before she never has to see her again.

The question almost gets caught her throat as she asks. "You're Rebecca? Rebecca Mitchell?"

Kiara vividly remembers the first time that she heard her social worker say Rebecca's name. She was eleven and had been going through a phase where she wanted to learn anything and everything there was to learn about her mom, the only biological family she had. The only person that she could get mad at for making her the way she did. She wasn't allowed to contact her, she wasn't allowed to reach out or even look her up, but Kiara never forgot her name.

She certainly didn't forget it when she started the process of filing for emancipation and realized that the form that the same Rebecca Mitchell had signed to give her parental rights to the Office of Children and Family Services, had been lost during various office moves, meaning she would have to sign her rights away again before Kiara was legally free to become emancipated.

Rebecca had been messing with her life even after being out of it for its entirety.

"I am, though not many people call me that anymore. Just Beca, is fine."

Kiara basically ignores Rebecca's – Beca's – response, folding in on herself a little more as she feels both the woman's eyes, and the redhead's eyes on her, taking in every part about her. She's used to it at this point, strangers staring and scrutinizing and wondering why something seems a little… off. She has never really gotten used to it though.

The redhead who, come to think of it, never once introduced herself, says something about Kiara needing to talk to Beca. The reminder is enough to bring Kiara back to the present, to remember why she is here – why she has a single paper in her backpack that feels like it's burning a hole through the fabric. She rubs away the everlasting ache in her chest, the stress not exactly helping her situation, and carefully responds. "Uh…yeah." Kiara clears her throat, her gaze flicking to the ground before cautiously meeting Beca's eyes and saying the words that she has never once been able to speak before. "Yeah, I'm uh… my name's Kiara. Mitchell. Kiara Mitchell. I'm your daughter."

Every once in a while, Kiara and a couple of the girls at the house will watch those movies where the foster kid or orphan or what have you, reunites with their bio parents. They always tend to make fun of how unrealistic it is, how there are either sparks, and an over joyous, happy reunion. Or there is a huge argument that typically ends in the parent denying the kid's existence, and the kid dissolving into tears.

Obviously, neither of those situations play out in front of her.

Instead, Kiara watches as both Beca's mouth and the redhead's – receptionist? Assistant? – slowly drop open in shock. She watches as Beca takes her own turn to look her up and down, and then, a hesitant, disbelieving, laugh. "What?"

The shock, she had been expecting. A little anger, Kiara had been anticipating. But having to repeat herself – saying the words that she has played over and over again in her head, both while awake and in her dreams and nightmares – it makes her heart hurt a little more than usual.

Kiara offers her a small shrug, holding on to her backpack with everything in her, telling herself that this is fine, everything is fine. That it will all be worth it in the end. "I'm your daughter."

Beca brings a shaky hand up to her mouth, covering it in disbelief, another laugh escaping. "I don't—"

Kiara doesn't wait to hear the excuses. She repeats the same information that she has recited to herself the past three weeks in preparation for this trip. A script, per se, to ensure that she would not completely break down in the presence of one Rebecca Mitchell. "I was born at St. Luke's Hospital in Portland, Maine, sixteen years ago. You gave me up for adoption when I was born. Had signed the papers before you even gave birth. Rebecca Mitchell. Your name is on my birth certificate. You were hard to find because-because you moved so many times, but I know it's you. I checked your file. Please don't try to tell me that I'm making this up."

She hates the way her voice cracks, how the slightest bit of emotion can shine through. Kiara's just glad that she's still sitting down, not knowing how long she would be able to take all of this stress standing.

Beca slowly shakes her head, her eyes never once leaving Kiara. She reaches behind her for the redhead's hand. "No, I'm not I just… you're in New York?"

Kiara shifts in her seat, rubbing her chest again. She hasn't eaten a lot today and probably should. Maybe get something to drink, too. Lena really is going to kill her. "I moved here when I was eight. I live outside of Albany. I came because I need you to sign something for me – I don't want anything; I don't want any money – we don't ever have to see each other again. I just need you to sign this paper and then I'll be out of your life forever."

The redhead – girlfriend? Wife? – takes a step forward, holding out her free hand. "Hold on, sweetheart. Why don't we go get something to eat? We can call your parents, have them come down here? We can talk about this."

"I have to get home." Breaking her staring contest with Beca, Kiara reaches into her backpack and brings out the form, a pen in between her fingers. "When I moved to Albany, a lot of my records were lost in transition. Including the one that says you terminated your parental rights. I need you to sign it again, so that I can get emancipated."

Beca snaps out of whatever trance she's in, blinking herself back to reality. "Emancipated? You want to emancipate yourself from your parents?"

Kiara looks up at her like she has three heads. "No? I'm getting emancipated from foster care. I just need your signature so that I have it for my court date."

"I'm sorry but what are—" Beca takes a step backward, bumping into the redhead who stumbles to catch her. It's like the words aren't fully sinking in. Aren't making any sense. "Why are you in foster care?"

Because no one wants a baby in a hospital bed. "Because I wasn't adopted." Kiara keeps the answer short and sweet, ignoring the burning at the back of her throat.

Kiara watches as Beca runs a hand over her face, tears, maybe, swelling in her eyes. The redhead places a gentle hand on her arm, concern written all over her face, with a few tears streaming down her cheeks as well. Beca's voice cracks when she addresses her once more. "You were never adopted?"

Kiara's eyes flick between the two women standing in front of her. She grasps the pen and paper in her hand, and slowly pushes herself from the chair. She waits for her brain to stop swimming and for her body to regain its balance, hoping that she isn't being watched and that she won't have to answer any further questions, before she steps forward, holding the items out to Beca. "Listen, I don't care. I really just need you to sign this paper."

Beca doesn't take it from her. She just stares at it as though it will burst into flames at any second. Kiara shakes it a bit, wanting nothing more than to shove it in her hand or force her to sign it in some way. This conversation is already lasting far longer than she wanted it to, and she would much prefer it to just end.

It doesn't happen.

"Where…where are you living now?"

Kiara raises one of her eyebrows. "I already told you. Out near Albany."

"No, no I know but like – is it a foster home? Are you… are you safe?"

She forces a small smile on her face, though it's not exactly forced because the reminder of her current living situation does bring her actual happiness. "Group home. The same one I've been living in since I was eight. I love it there."

Beca exchanges another brief look with the redhead. "So why do you want to get emancipated?"

None of your business. "It's time to move on." Kiara takes a deep breath, involuntarily wincing at the sudden increase of pressure, and holds out the papers once more. "Now, can you please just sign these? I need to start heading back."

The hesitation is evident. Beca doesn't seem to be wanting to make a move towards the papers, and it almost reminds Kiara of one of those old midwestern movies that Lena made them watch one summer where the two cowboys stare each other down in the middle of the desert, determining whether to engage in some sort of show-down. But she knows that her face is almost pleading with the brunette to just take the papers and sign the dotted line. So much so that she can almost see the waver in Beca's resolve, one that Kiara can barely read because of the far-off look that she has on her face right now.

She slowly – though whether Kiara is making the speed up she is not sure – reaches out to grab it before the redhead stops her.

"Beca, let's just hold on a second. We don't even know what's really going on here…"

Kiara eyes her, narrowing her gaze to a glare. "There's nothing else to know. I can't get emancipated without her signature, or her coming to the hearing, so unless she wants to trek out to Albany next week and sit in a courtroom for hours, this is your best bet."

The redhead gently pulls Beca toward her, whispering something to Beca while she just shakes her head. Eventually, Beca turns back around, misty eyes finding Kiara's. "This is really what you want?"

Not a second passes before Kiara answers her. "Yes."

Beca slowly moves her lips together as though mulling the situation over in her head. Eventually though, she nods, and slowly brings the paper back over to the coffee table and signs it with a flourish of her hand. When she gives it back to Kiara, the teen finds it hard to ignore the tear splotches on the sheet.

Genuine gratitude shines through in Kiara's response. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."

Beca sniffles, nose crinkling and eyes closing to try and stop her emotions from showing. "I'm uh… I'm really sorry that…that you've been through, whatever you've been through. They told me you already had an adoptive family lined up. I never would have—you growing up in foster care shouldn't have happened. It wasn't supposed to have happened."

Kiara gives the woman a gentle shrug, sliding the paper into her backpack and zipping it up shortly after. "It's fine. I really didn't have it too bad. Not like in the movies, or whatever. I've always had people that cared about me."

Whether her answer helps or hurts Beca is beyond Kiara, but the brunette does nod in acknowledgement, taking a step back towards the redhead, but not touching her like she had been previously. "Okay. Good."

"Yeah…" Kiara looks between the two women, silence falling over them in the empty lobby. She gives them a tight-lipped smile, before bringing her bag back onto her back. She shrugs it on, readjusting the straps, and takes a deep breath. "Well, thank you. Again. I uh… I have to get back home, but it was…it was good meeting you."

Beca visibly gulps. "It was nice meeting you, too."

Nodding slowly, not exactly knowing how to end the conversation, Kiara starts to back away from them with a small wave.

She can hear the redhead's protests as she walks further out the lobby, but no one comes after her.

Hello, hello! Here we go again ;)

I'm really excited to be back with this new fic, graciously requested by a Guest on one of my previous stories. It's a little different than some of the other things I've written, but I'm really looking forward to seeing where it goes - and I hope you are, too!

We are back in the swing of things over here with multiple jobs, school, and lots of other commitments, so I am going to try for weekly updates, but it may quickly turn to bi-weekly updates should I not have time to write/edit/post. I do have the next few chapters already written, they just need to be revised, and I promise I will not leave you hanging.

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of If Only for a Moment. As always, I look forward to hearing any sort of first impressions, thoughts, comments, reactions, predictions, etc. that you want to share! I'll respond to them like always :)

Thanks so much for reading and I'm so glad to be back with y'all xx