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Chapter 18

Beca has been staring at her clock since she woke up a half-hour ago, as if her body knows what the morning will bring, just like it does every year. The two dots separating the hours from the minutes mockingly blink at her, to the beat of her own heartbeat. One of these years she'll learn to take a sleeping pill or something on the night leading into the anniversary of her parents' death. At least then she'll be semi-functioning for the morning of.

Seven years. That's how long it'll be in five minutes, when the clock reads 1:57. Seven years ago to the minute. Well, she's not exactly sure what time they died, but 1:57 is when the police officers knocked on their door, expecting to find a babysitter and instead encountering the ten-year-old daughter of the people that his colleagues had transported to the hospital, and later pronounced dead.

1:57 marks the time when Beca was instantly thrown into the world of adulthood. Thinking back on it, there's no denying that she matured years in a matter of minutes on December 4th, 2013. She went from being an innocent child, who had barely experienced anything out of the ordinary, to having to wake her five-year-old sister from where she lay sleeping under her pink princess bedding.

They wouldn't tell her very much at first. As soon as the police officers realized that she was the only one at the house, they had put in a call to social services. But, as they were waiting for the social worker to get there, Beca had demanded answers – even at ten, she was strong-willed. She quickly grew angry, being old enough to realize that something wasn't right. She didn't know the details, but what she knew was enough. She knew her parents were supposed to be back hours ago. She knew that they never called saying they were going to be late. She knew that there were two police officers in her living room getting their muddy boots on the carpet, but that they weren't saying anything. It was a night full of whirlwind emotions, and every year, like clockwork, they come rushing back.

She takes a shuddering breath as the clock changes to the dreaded time. Beca squeezes her eyes shut, trying to keep the tears from spilling out as she lays in her bed. Most of the time, Beca tries her hardest to keep her emotions in check. She knows that she has to be strong for Macy and she has accepted that – and continues to embrace the role. But this is the one day a year where Beca truly allows herself to feel the weight of everything that she's gone through – whether it be her parents' death, the failed foster placements, or the pain that she's endured to protect her baby sister. It's a lot to keep all pent up.

Most of the time, Beca manages, but today… today is her day to let it out and grieve for all of the things that she's lost.

A single tear escapes from the corner of Beca's eye, before her breath hitches, and she breaks down into sobs.

About an hour and a half later, when Beca's tears have mostly dried and only an occasional sniffle escapes, Beca listens as the familiar creak of Macy's bedroom door resounds through the house. Honestly, she's surprised her sister has lasted this long, especially considering she was already acting quieter when Beca put her to bed. It doesn't take long for Beca to see the faint outline of her sister creeping into her bedroom.

Without saying anything, Macy crawls onto the mattress, her own tears still drying on her face. She moves into her sister's outstretched arms, wrapping her own around Beca's torso, and allowing the older brunette to hold her tightly against her chest. Beca uses one hand to bring the covers up over the two of them, neither one of the girls even thinking about leaving the embrace.

Flashback: Seven Years Ago

Renee Corbin drives steadily along Elmhurst Street, her eyes still bleary from being woken up in the middle of the night. She typically doesn't mind being the on-call emergency social worker, but tonight, when she received word from the police department that two little girls had lost their parents, she began to wish that she hadn't agreed to cover extra shifts this month.

She doesn't even have to look at the directions to know which house the Mitchell family's is. It is the only one on the street with all of the downstairs lights on, and there's a police cruiser parked in the driveway, no other family car in sight. After pulling up in front of the house, Renee grabs her bag from the passenger seat, and carefully closes the door, trying not to draw any attention to her arrival.

After making the short walk to the front steps, one hand tucked into the pocket of her sweatshirt – it is almost two-thirty in the morning after all – she rings the doorbell. She can't see into the house from her position, and she also can't hear anything, which surprises her. Renee takes a step back as one of the officers answers the door.

"I'm Renee Corbin from DCF," she sticks out her free hand, shaking the officer's when he extends it as well.

"Officer Peter Monroe. My partner, Austin Ramirez, is inside as well."

Renee nods, not making any move to enter the household. She still isn't sure about all of the details, and she does not want to face a vulnerable child without first knowing what she's talking about. "What exactly happened?"

Officer Monroe clears his throat. These, too, are his least favorite type of calls. "Warren and Amelia Mitchell, the girls' parents, were in a car accident at about eleven-thirty tonight. On their way home, an intoxicated driver – who we have already apprehended – t-boned their car and pushed them off the road. The impact killed Amelia Mitchell, who was in the passenger seat, almost instantly, and Warren Mitchell died en route to the hospital."

Renee peers around the officer and tries to catch a glimpse of something – or someone – in the house, but no one seems to be moving. "Okay. And the girls?"

"Rebeca and Macy Mitchell. Rebeca is ten and Macy is five. They were home alone when it happened; Rebeca is downstairs in the living room, and Macy is still asleep."

"How is Rebeca acting?"

Officer Monroe runs a hand through his short hair. "We haven't told her anything yet, so she's a little agitated."

Renee's eyebrows furrow together. "You haven't told her anything?"

"No. We were waiting for you to get here."

Renee sighs. Great. Just great. "Okay, let's go see her."

Officer Monroe opens the door further, allowing Renee to fully enter the Mitchell household. Upon first glance, the house seems to be in a state of organized chaos. There are pictures everywhere, CDs and other albums are stacked on various shelves, in addition to numerous hardcover and paperback books. There's some folded laundry on the stairs and a backpack that has been abandoned in the front entryway. The house itself seems incredibly lived-in, but it feels hollow and empty without the two parents present.

The officer leads her into a living room, where infomercials are playing on the television and a piano sits in the corner. A few blankets are strewn across the floor, and a glass of water is untouched on an end table, but Renee's eyes immediately go to the young girl sitting cross-legged on the ottoman, glaring at the police officer standing across the room.

Rebeca is small, there's no doubt about it. She's wearing an oversized Barden University sweatshirt that makes her seem even tinier, and the two braids that her chestnut hair has been woven into, add another ounce of youthfulness to her persona. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and she moves her glare to Renee as she enters the room. "Who are you?"

Renee offers Rebeca a small smile, not at all taking her attitude personally. She can only imagine how much stress this poor girl is under, especially considering the police officers haven't told her anything about what is going on. "Hi, Rebeca. My name is Renee. May I sit down?" When she doesn't answer, the social worker takes a tentative seat on the ground in front of her. "Rebeca –"

"My name's Beca."

Renee nods, never once taking her eyes off of the girl. "I apologize. Beca, my name is Renee Corbin, I work for a place called the Department of Children and Family Services. Have you heard of it?"

Beca physically bites the inside of her lip, trying to ignore the burning in the back of her throat. "Where are my parents?"

The social worker takes a deep breath, trying to remain as outwardly calm as possible, even if her heart is racing inside of her chest. These conversations are never easy. "Beca, your parents were in a car accident tonight."

The ten-year-old sets her jaw. "Where are my parents? I want to see my parents now, please."

"Beca, your parents were in a car accident tonight, and they got really hurt," Renee sighs, still seeing the frustrated and confused expression on the girl's face, but not having any way to say this without being blunt. "Your parents died, sweetheart. They didn't make it."

Beca stares at the woman sitting in front of her, letting her words sink in. It almost feels as though she's underwater, everything muffled and not quite clear. Dead? How can that even be possible? She lets her mind wander back to almost eight hours earlier when her parents were leaving. It was their first time going out in forever. She's sure that she hugged them goodbye, but for some reason, she can't remember the feeling of their arms wrapped around her.

Renee watches Beca carefully. She goes to lay a tentative hand on the girl's knee, but she jerks it out of the way, continuing to maintain the same stoic expression on her face. "Beca, sweetie…"

Beca finally blinks, hearing the word 'dead' on repeat in her head, that word tuning out everything else that someone can possibly be saying to her. She's never been an overly emotional child, but one might think that, upon hearing about her parents' death, a tear or two might spring free. But Beca can't. She feels numb under the watchful gazes of the two police officers and the social worker sitting in front of her. She's frozen. Frozen in her living room, and frozen in time.

The social worker knows that Beca is tuning her out, but she tries again anyway. "Beca, do you have any questions? I know this is incredibly shocking and you're probably confused…"

Beca gulps, meeting Renee's eyes once more, trying to collect her thoughts. "They're dead?" The word sounds weird coming out of her mouth.

"They are. I'm very sorry, Beca."

Beca twists the leather bracelets that are on her wrist. Her mom has been buying them for her from the music festivals that she has to attend for work since Beca was younger. Her newest one is a lighter band, and this time around, Macy got an identical one for her wrist, too. Her throat is tight with emotion, and she can feel the pressure in her chest growing, with all of the feelings that she – so far – has refused to feel, building up inside.

"Beca…"

"What happens now?" The question slips out of her mouth, startling the social worker slightly. She's seen the kids that she works with shut down before, and she knows that that is what is happening with Beca right now.

Renee purses her lips. "Well, we're going to go wake up your sister, and then I'm going to help you guys pack a bag and –"

"—where are going to go?"

For the first time since sitting down, Renee can see the tears starting to collect in Beca's eyes. The social worker catches herself thinking about whether or not the girl resembles her parents. "Tonight, we're going to go back to my office and we're going to figure out what's going to happen next. Do you have any extended family that I can call for you? Maybe a grandparent, or an aunt or uncle?"

Beca shakes her head. Her grandmother died a few years ago, and her mom has told her before that both Amelia and Warren are – were – only children.

"Okay. That's alright. We're going to figure it out. I promise."

Much to Renee's surprise, Beca didn't shed a tear through the entire time that they were preparing to leave the house. The social worker has been watching the girl carefully, refusing to take her eye off of her, even as Beca – a ten-year-old – told her younger sister about their parents. Renee had offered, and almost insisted, but Beca had been adamant. She didn't want anyone else talking to Macy.

Macy, on the other hand, couldn't be more different from her sister. She woke with a start, first looking at Renee, who was standing behind where Beca was kneeling beside Macy's bed. The younger girl instantly grew happy upon seeing her sister – Renee could tell they were close, just by the way Macy's face lit up with recognition, and how there were at least five pictures of her and her sister hanging around the bedroom. But, as Beca told her the news, tenderly holding Macy's hand, Macy had broken down into sobs. She launched herself at her sister and clung to her like there was no tomorrow.

Through it all, Beca held her sister close. She whispered words of comfort; she ran her fingers through Macy's hair. Renee watched as the ten-year-old seemed to grow to the age of an adult before her eyes. It was heartbreaking, probably one of the most heartbreaking things that she's seen in this line of work.

It took a little over an hour for Renee to help Macy and Beca gather some clothes and a few personal belongings into two duffel bags that Beca found in their hall closet. By the time they're driving to the DCF office stationed in Atlanta, it's almost four in the morning; Macy sobs have subsided into sniffles, and Beca has been staring off into space, her arm still wrapped around her sister.

When Renee pulls into a parking spot in the otherwise empty lot, she turns to look at the Mitchell sisters. "Alright girls, come on."

She leads them into the DCF building, all of the lights in the office turning on as they trigger the motion sensors. Renee knows that she has a long night ahead of her. A brief conversation with Beca revealed that her parents don't have any living relatives, and they don't have many friends outside of their work. She'll do some research about possible kinship placements, but Renee has a feeling that they'll be going to a foster family in the morning. Luckily, they're both young, so they should be relatively easy to place in an adoptive home.

Renee brings them toward the back of the office where her cubicle is. There's a conference room directly behind where she works every day, and she knows that she can fit two cots in the room. Her supervisor really doesn't like it when they have to have kids sleep here, but sometimes, they just don't have a choice – there is only so little time to call people, and even fewer people willing to take kids in.

Flipping the light to the conference room on, Renee abandons her bag on the table and moves to the closet to retrieve the cots. She sets them up quickly, both Beca and Macy looking as though they can fall asleep standing up, before turning her attention back to the girls. "Can I get you guys anything? Maybe some water?" Renee is met with two blank – yet utterly exhausted – stares, Macy still tucked into Beca's side. They look far younger than they actually are, sitting there in their pajamas and watching Renee with wide eyes. "I'm going to be right outside making some calls. If you need anything, just holler, okay?" Again, they don't say anything. "I do want you to try and get some sleep though. It's been a long day and you need some rest."

When Renee is sure that they aren't going to answer, she lifts her bag back onto her shoulder, heading back toward the door of the conference room. "Alright, girls. I'll be right out here." She flips off the light and keeps the door cracked open, before settling into her desk.

Back in the conference room, Beca stands, staring at the cot that Renee haphazardly set up for them. Macy hasn't loosened her grip on her all night, so she practically drags her younger sister to the bed, trying to block out the sounds of her tears as Macy starts to cry again.

It takes a few minutes for them to get semi-comfortable. But, when a blanket is covering both of them and Macy is curled into a tight ball in Beca's embrace, the older Mitchell sister allows her mind to wander to the day Macy was born. "You're a big sister now, Bec," her father had told her, "You have to look out for her and protect her."

Subconsciously tightening her embrace around Macy, Beca makes a silent promise to both of her parents – wherever they are now – that she will. She'll do everything in her power to protect her sister. No matter what happens.

For the first time all night, Beca allows herself to cry.

Present Day

Chloe enters school just like she does on any other Friday morning, a smile on her face and with a pep in her step. She greets some of her classmates in passing, she says 'hello' to the teachers she sees in the hall, but really, all she wants to do is get to her English class so that she can see Beca.

Talking with Beca has quickly become the highlight of Chloe's day. It doesn't matter if it's a brief conversation whispered under the cover of a teacher talking, or if it's a longer conversation at lunch. It doesn't matter if it's in person, or over the phone, or over text. Chloe just loves spending time with Beca and chatting about anything and everything that can come to their minds. Sometimes the topics are more serious, sometimes they're funny and light-hearted. It doesn't matter what they talk about – Chloe is happy with all of it.

She turns the corner to go into her classroom, her smile already growing as she expects to see her friend, but it quickly dissipates once she sees Beca's empty chair. Her eyebrow furrows slightly as she checks the time. The busses should've been here at least twenty minutes ago, meaning, unless something happened with Macy, Beca should be here by now.

Trying to quell her disappointment, Chloe slides into her own desk, her eyes flicking between the time on her phone, and the door, waiting for the brunette to come in.

As time ticks by, and more and more of her classmates come in, Chloe's disappointment starts to turn into a small ball of worry settling into the pit of her stomach. Beca and Macy haven't missed a day of school since they started attending Barden. To make the situation worse, Chloe realizes that she never received a response from the 'good morning' text she had sent to Beca when she woke up.

She sends her another one, just checking in, before setting her phone back on the desk and leaning back in her chair.

The concern is evident on her face when Stacie and Aubrey come into Mr. Harrington's class.

Stacie takes her seat behind Chloe while Aubrey slides in next to her. Both of them exchange a worried look at the obvious distress of their best friend, before Stacie asks, "What's wrong?"

Chloe runs her hands over her hair. "Beca's not here."

Aubrey quirks an eyebrow, noticing the empty seat to Chloe's left for the first time. "Okay? Maybe she's late."

Chloe shakes her head. "She's never late. She's never late, and she's always here."

Stacie can practically feel the stress radiating off of the redhead. "Have you texted her?"

"Yeah," she turns so that she can easily see both Stacie and Aubrey. "Once this morning when I woke up and once like ten minutes ago."

Stacie does her best to hide the smirk that is threatening to appear on her face. There's always an insane amount of sexual tension whenever Beca and Chloe are together; of course, they text each other from the time they wake up until the time they go to bed. But, knowing that teasing her best friend isn't going to help the situation at hand, she remains serious. "Maybe something happened with Macy."

Chloe feels her frown deepen. That doesn't make her feel any better.

"I'm sure she's fine, Chlo." Aubrey lays a light hand on Chloe's shoulder. "Try not to worry too much. She'll probably be here soon."

Much to Chloe's dismay, Beca doesn't show up half-way through first period, and remains absent all through the morning classes. By the time lunch rolls around, all Chloe can focus on is the fact that she still hasn't heard anything from Beca – even five text messages later – and the brunette is nowhere to be found.

"Chlo, I love you, but you're going to make a hole in the floor if you don't stop bouncing your foot up and down." Stacie and Aubrey exchange a light laugh, sitting on either side of Chloe at their lunch table. They've already failed twice at trying to start a conversation, and now they just want to calm their friend down.

Chloe shakes her head, her leg never once stopping in its bouncing. "No. Something's wrong, I can feel it."

"Maybe she's sick? It's not that uncommon to be absent from school, Chloe."

Placing her fork down on her tray, Chloe leans back in her chair. "Macy isn't here either." Yes, she went to check in with Benji to see if Macy came into school. Don't judge her.

Aubrey raises her eyebrow, "Okay, so maybe Macy is sick and Beca is taking care of her?"

The redhead considers this briefly. As much as that would make sense, it doesn't necessarily explain why Beca hasn't responded to any of her texts. She falls quiet, shifting her gaze from Aubrey, to Stacie, who has become very focused on her salad. "Stace? What do you think?"

Stacie tries not to give away what she's been thinking about since realizing that not only are both Beca and Macy not here, but Beca isn't responding to Chloe's texts, either. The possibility has been on her mind all morning, and she's been trying to avoid Chloe's gaze because of it. She doesn't even want to entertain the idea. "Hm?"

Chloe immediately notices something is wrong, as does Aubrey. They both watch as Stacie avoids making eye contact, stabbing, and re-stabbing pieces of lettuce. "Stacie? What's wrong?"

The taller brunette sighs, ignoring the glare that she is receiving from Aubrey, and instead looking into Chloe's eyes. She can see the concern swimming in her bright blue orbs. "Okay, don't kill me for saying this, but is there a possibility that she moved?"

While Aubrey suppresses a groan, wanting to reach across the table and strangle her friend for even suggesting such a thing, Chloe's face falls. "What? What do you mean?"

She runs a hand over her head, practically repeating the same thing she said before. "Do you think that she had to move? Like, maybe it was a last-minute thing."

Chloe's jaw drops in horror, turning her head to each of her friends. "Can they do that?! They can just force her to move?" She racks her brain for any information that she can remember about having to move placements. The last time she did any research was months ago, and it's not like Beca talks about it all that much.

Stacie gives her a shrug laced with uncertainty. "I have no idea. But, I mean, it kind of makes sense; she was fine yesterday, she isn't responding to your texts…"

The fear in Chloe's expression seems to grow. This never even crossed her mind, and now it's the one explanation that seems to hold the most plausibility. "Oh my God. So, she could be on the other side of the state for all we know?"

"Okay, calm down, Chlo." Aubrey rests her hand on Chloe's shoulder, trying to undo all of the panic Stacie has so kindly caused. "The odds of that happening are very slim. Why don't you just plan on going over to her house after school if you're this worried about it?"

Chloe nods, trying to ignore the burning in the back of her throat. "What if she's not there?"

Aubrey shrugs, remaining as calm and supportive as she possibly can. "We'll figure it out. I promise."

Beca has been in a daze all day long, her mind plagued with memories of the past seven years, as well as memories of her parents. Her head is pounding from dehydration, and her eyes are heavy with exhaustion. It doesn't matter what she does to try and distract herself; nothing works.

She takes a hesitant sip of water, keeping her focus on the small yard behind Jack's house. He left this morning for work without questioning why she and Macy were going to stay home, which is fine by Beca. She didn't have it in her to explain herself.

The two Mitchell girls haven't done much, and neither one of them has eaten all day. Beca never ended up falling asleep, and Macy got a few hours at most after going into her older sister's room. Beca forced herself to take a shower, which resulted in her breaking down again in the solitude of the bathroom, but other than that, she has just been lounging around with Macy. She has tried starting a few conversations, but they always fall flat – Macy being even more silent than Beca is on this day. Macy had brought in her copy of The Outsiders and they made it through a chapter before the younger girl burst into tears again, and now she's resting on the couch, waiting for the hours to pass.

Honestly, sleeping seems like one of the only things that can distract them today.

Carrying the water with her, Beca makes her way back into the living room, where Macy is on the couch staring blankly at some reality show that's playing on the television. She goes over to where she's laying, tapping her younger sister's head lightly so that she lifts it up, and sliding into the place that was previously occupied by a pillow. Beca settles in, Macy laying her head on Beca's lap, and trying to keep any more tears from falling as the older brunette uses her fingernails to massage her scalp.

While neither Beca nor Macy are paying any attention to what's on TV, each of them is so absorbed with their own thoughts, that they don't hear the car door slam shut in the driveway.

As soon as the bell rang dismissing seventh period, Chloe got to the parking lot as fast as she could. She practically peeled out of the school's driveway and may or may not have broken a few speeding laws to drive to Beca's house as quickly as possible, only breathing a slight sigh of relief when she is parked in her driveway.

When she climbs out of the car, it takes everything in Chloe not to burst into the house. There aren't any other vehicles in the driveway, which Chloe isn't sure is a good or bad thing, but Chloe keeps Stacie's question in the back of her mind. For all Chloe knows, Beca could potentially not even be here.

By the time she gets to the front door, her heart is about to beat out of her chest, but there is no hesitation in her knock. She raps her knuckles on the door quickly, before stepping back and waiting for someone to answer.

And she waits and waits.

Chloe gives it a few minutes before knocking again. This time knocking even louder and slightly more aggressively. She's not going to give up without a fight. When no one answers for the second time, Chloe knocks again. And again.

Eventually, after what feels like forever, Chloe thinks she is able to hear someone approaching the door. Her suspicions are confirmed when the door creaks open, revealing someone who resembles Beca but still looks completely different than the person Chloe has grown to love.

Beca stands in front of her, still dressed in a pair of pajamas with her hair pulled up in a bun on top of her head. She doesn't have any makeup on, and her eyes are puffy and slightly bloodshot, adding to the exhaustion that clearly is weighing her body down. She looks even paler than normal, and upon seeing Chloe, she doesn't even smile. Her eyebrows furrow slightly, but the expression isn't backed by a full commitment. It's half-hearted, and it looks as though it takes all of Beca's remaining energy to muster. "Chloe?"

"H-Hi." A flurry of emotions falls over Chloe – a combination of confusion, concern, and relief – as Beca opens the door a little more. "How are you? Are you okay?"

Beca, her voice rough from lack of use, is trying to wrap her mind around why the redhead is standing in front of her. She's still in her daze, and nothing is really making sense to her. "What are you doing here?"

Chloe's racing pulse doesn't calm at the sight of the brunette. If anything, it picks up upon seeing the state that she's in. This is not Beca; this is not how she acts, and she knows that something is wrong – all of her suspicions from the morning coming true. She doesn't want to pry, but she also doesn't want to completely abandon her when, clearly, Beca is hurting. "You weren't at school, and you weren't answering any of my texts… are you okay?"

"Oh… my uh… my phone is upstairs." Beca turns to face inside, catching a glimpse of her sister, who isn't even looking in her direction, all the while completely ignoring Chloe's question.

It takes everything in Chloe not to wrap the brunette in her arms. She doesn't like this. Not one bit. "Are you okay, Bec? Can I come inside?"

Beca, once again, looks into the house. "Um, I don't know if that's a good –"

"Please? You look like you could use someone to talk to."

Beca runs a hand over her face. That's literally the last thing that she wants, but she also doesn't have the energy to fight. Without saying anything, she opens the door enough so that the redhead can come inside, a small smile stretching across her lips.

After slipping her shoes off, Chloe follows a reluctant Beca into the living room, resulting in her seeing Macy on the couch, who doesn't even acknowledge the presence of someone new in the house. "Hey, Mace!"

"She's not going to answer," Beca says, as if the younger girl isn't even in the room. Nonetheless, she too addresses the girl. "I'll be in the kitchen, munch."

Now even more confused – and growing increasingly concerned – Chloe stays close to the brunette, being led through the living room and into the kitchen, where Beca gestures to the table. She stops in front of the fridge, "Do you want anything to drink?"

Chloe shakes her head, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "No, that's okay, thank you." This is almost exactly how Beca was acting when she first met her, and Chloe is hating every second of it. "What's going on, Beca? Is everything okay?"

When Beca takes a seat next to her redheaded friend, Chloe can see just how exhausted the girl looks. Her shoulders slump as she pulls one knee up onto the chair and into her chest, and there are dark bags hanging under her eyes. She runs another hand over her face, trying to wake herself up from this in-between state she's been in since this morning. "Yeah, I'm sorry I never responded to your texts."

Chloe furrows her eyebrows. "What? Bec, I don't care about that… I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Did something happen with Macy? Did something happen with you?"

It takes a moment, but Beca eventually shakes her head. She averts her eyes, running her fingers over the leather bands on her wrist. The motion typically brings her a sense of calm, but today, it only leads to an added pain in her heart. "No, she's fine; we're fine. It's just… it's not a good day for us, that's all."

Still trying to decipher her cryptic answers, Chloe asks again. "What's going on? Talk to me, Beca."

Beca shakes her head again, never once lifting her gaze from her hands. "It's not a big deal… honestly, I make more of a big deal out of it than I probably should." She sighs, knowing full well that the words coming out of her mouth are jumbled and most likely not making any sense. "It's the uh… it's the anniversary of the car accident. My parents' accident."

Chloe's eyes fill with tears as she brings a shaky hand to her mouth. "Oh my god, Bec. That is a huge deal, what are you talking about?" She doesn't even have to think about it; Chloe pushes herself up out of her chair and wraps Beca in an embrace. "I am so sorry."

Beca doesn't move at first, but after a few moments, she, too, wraps her arms around Chloe, and the effervescent redhead can hear her let out a sigh of relief. And then, before she knows it, she can feel Beca trembling in her arms.

As Chloe's hold tightens around her, Beca feels another surge of emotions overpower her. It starts off as the tightening of her chest, but as that progresses, Beca begins to cry into Chloe's shirt. She isn't sure why, it's not like Chloe said anything in particular and Beca's already cried more than she should have today, but there's something about the redhead's presence, something about the way she is hugging her and the way she was looking at her with such concern, that almost gives Beca permission to break down in her company.

Chloe doesn't move. She holds the brunette close, running her hand up and down her back, doing everything in her power to bring Beca some sense of comfort. Beca's grip seems to tighten on the back of her shirt. They stay like that for about five minutes, but the time passing seems minuscule to the two girls, both of them completely at ease with their current positions.

Eventually, Beca pulls away, wiping the tears out from underneath her eyes, and avoiding Chloe's gaze once more. "I'm sorry, that was completely uncalled for… God, I'm a mess."

"Hey," Chloe's tone is firm yet gentle all at the same time, "You don't ever have to apologize for crying or being upset. You, more than anyone I know, have every right to be sad and angry and frustrated." She uses her thumb to delicately brush a tear off of Beca's cheek, wishing more than anything that the brunette would look at her. "It's not good to hold all of those emotions in."

Beca seems to lay her head into the soft cup of Chloe's hand, even after the tear has been cleaned off her cheek. She smiles slightly, closing her eyes. "It's a lot easier, though."

Despite the situation, Chloe lets out a soft laugh. She moves her hands to Beca's, only after pulling her chair closer so that they can sit directly in front of each other. "But I'm sure it can get pretty lonely, right?"

Beca finally looks into Chloe's bright blue orbs, tears still swimming in her own. "You have no idea."

Whoever said that missing someone lessened over time, was full of crap, at least in Beca's opinion. It doesn't matter how many years have passed since the accident, Beca still finds herself drowning in grief when this day rolls around. She isn't sure if it's solely because she misses her parents, or if it's a combination of that and how she finally allows herself to feel the pain of everything that has happened to her over the years.

She realized a long time ago that parenting – if you can even call it that – is an incredibly lonely business. Though, Beca has to admit, between Chloe and CR, this is the least lonely she's felt in a long time.

Chloe gently rubs her finger across the back of Beca's hand, never once breaking eye contact. "Do you want to talk about it? Or about anything?"

To Chloe's utmost surprise, Beca shrugs, sniffling slightly and scrunching her nose in response. "I don't know… it's just hard."

"What is?"

She shifts her gaze back down to their hands, where Chloe has a light grasp on both of them. With all of the emotions wearing her down, the words quickly flow off of Beca's tongue. They've always been there, it's just that hardly anybody has taken the time to sit and listen to them. But here Chloe is, as attentive as always. "Everything. I keep replaying that night over and over again in my head, and I knew it was going to be hard. I knew being in foster care and taking care of my baby sister was going to be hard. But at the time, I don't think I realized exactly how hard it was going to be."

Chloe resists the urge to wrap Beca in another hug. She doesn't really know what to say, it's not like she's ever experienced the amount of pain and loss that Beca has, and she can't even imagine what it's been like for her over the last seven years. She settles on the continuous motion of rubbing the back of her hand. "You've handled it so well, Bec. Your parents would be so proud of you and everything that you've done for Macy."

Beca snorts, tears starting to collect in her eyes again. "They shouldn't be."

Chloe's eyebrows furrow in confusion, "Why would you say something like that?"

"Because it's the truth." Beca removes one of her hands from Chloe's grasp, angrily wiping the tears that have once again started to fall, off of her cheeks. "We've been in eleven different placements, Chlo. Macy hasn't had a home since she was five. The majority of the time she's scared of her own shadow because of all the shit she's been through. That's not normal. The poor kid should be able to have a normal life. A normal childhood."

Chloe can feel the anger starting to bubble inside of her. Not just at the fact that Beca and Macy have been passed around from place to place like some sort of object, or even at the fact that Beca can't seem to understand that she doesn't deserve any of what's happened to her either. Mostly, Chloe is just angry because Beca is acting like it's her fault. This beautiful, strong, amazing girl that has wriggled her way into Chloe's heart, is acting like she's caused her sister so much pain and agony, when in reality, that isn't close to the truth. "Beca, do you understand how much you've done for Macy? You were what? Ten when your parents died? How many ten-year-olds do you know, would step up and not even question having to protect their kid sister? You were a kid yourself! You still are!" She gives Beca's hand a soft squeeze. "You amaze me every day, Bec. You're the strongest person I know."

Instead of helping Beca calm down, Chloe's words do the exact opposite. Another sob escapes from the brunette, and tears once again start to spill from the corner of her eyes. She shakes her head, muttering, through the hand that is attempting to cover her mouth, "I feel like such a fucking failure sometimes."

"Oh, Beca…" Chloe's heart shatters into about a million little pieces as she once again gathers Beca in her arms. This time, there is no hesitation on Beca's part. She clings to Chloe like there is no tomorrow, sobbing into her chest like she hasn't cried in years. And, for all Chloe knows, maybe she hasn't. Until today, Chloe hasn't seen Beca get this visibly upset – or share this much about what she's feeling. Sure, she's seen the brunette get distressed when Macy is crying, and stress is very much a common state for Beca, but to Chloe, this seems like the first time that Beca is truly letting herself feel all of the emotions that she has tried to avoid in order to seem strong for her sister. "You're not a failure, Bec. You couldn't be further from a failure. You have raised Macy into an amazing little girl; she looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars."

She pauses, never once loosening her hold on Beca. "I can't even imagine what you two have been through over the last seven years, and I hope that one day, you trust me enough to tell me, but Bec… no matter what happened and no matter what those people did to you or to Macy… none of it was your fault. Please tell me you understand that."

When she doesn't answer, Chloe tries again, this time gently lifting Beca's face to look up at hers. She brushes another tear off of her face as she repeats herself, leaving little room for disagreement. "None of it – and I'm serious, Beca – none of it was your fault. And I will spend every day of my life reminding you of that if I need to."

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