It felt like days - months - years before the golden light of morning started to shine over the plain yellow of the desert. Two hundred and sixty-seven miles was not a lot, not in many situations but tonight, Chloe had felt every single one of them. They piled on her shoulders like bricks, making her neck crack and pop.

This should have been beautiful, the tranquil light of morning just beginning to reflect off of the pale blue of her eyes, and perhaps it was in a way, but instead of noticing, she just drove, her mind a million miles away.

She had planned to stop at a motel somewhere between here and there, she had assumed she would need to, but instead she had just driven through, too anxious to stop. What was the point? She knew she wouldn't sleep anyway.

So she just worried her lip until it was sore and drove, forgetting to turn on any music, forgetting to sing, forgetting to do anything except get from one point to the other.

Thank goodness Henderson was south Las Vegas, she was just beginning to feel the hours and her lack of sleep when she turned off the ramp and into her city, avoiding all big city traffic. When was the last time she had stayed up all night? College maybe? The early days of her relationship with Nick? The late days of her friendship with Beca?

It was eight in the morning, which meant she would have just enough time to say hi to Nick. She had missed him, in a way - in many ways. He was her friend, a good friend. Maybe they could share a cup of coffee and discuss their weekends before he had to leave. After he left for the day she would take a long shower, perhaps even a bath, and then she would crawl under the covers.

Sometimes it was nice going to bed in the morning, luxuriant even. She loved to sleep, she really did but she rarely took naps which meant that she rarely was able to stretch out in her own bed, taking up as much room as she would like.

Yes, that would be a nice way to spend the morning.

Maybe she wouldn't even sleep, perhaps she would just curl up with a book and read.

It would feel good to be in her own bed, in her own pajamas, in her own room.

The thought of it almost brought a smile to her face. It even went as far as to begin to form but changed midway into a yawn.

She let out another as she pulled onto her block, only stifling it as she pulled into the driveway, parking her car beside Nick's.

Back to life; the thought came unbidden.

There were reasons to be pleased about being home. There were. She had gotten very good at finding them before she left and she would be good at it again - at least she would be until she figured out the answer to that terrible question that had been plaguing her all year long, freezing her in place: what now?

"Good morning, Mrs. Cavanaugh! Where have you been all weekend?" Her elderly neighbor called to her, a large grin on his face.

"College reunion!" She gave him her best smile as she pulled a bag from the car.

"Well, isn't that nice! Did you have fun? How many years has it been?"

"Only four and yes, I had a lot of fun. I think I miss everyone already, is that possible?"

"Four years, you say? Well, just wait until you get to be old like me. I graduated from college, let's see now, forty-three years ago."

"What?" Chloe teasingly scoffed, readying her keys for the front door, "There's no way. You're not even forty-three yet, did you go to school before you were born?"

The old man just shook his head, waving her away and laughing.

The familiar morning scent of eggs and coffee wafted toward her as soon as she opened the door and for just a moment she felt so relieved, so pleased to at least be back on certain ground that she bit her lip and sang in a melodic lilt, "Honey, I'm home."

She heard the newspaper rustle in the dining room so she started that way, depositing her bags on the couch with a grunt.

She rounded the corner into the dining room and her smile dropped like stone. Ooooh no! No, she was too tired for her today!

Marcy just gave her a not so pleasant smile and took a sip of her coffee, somehow condemning without even needing to speak.

"Finally!" Her husband cried, the paper falling around him, "I thought you were going to be home hours ago!"


Chloe fully believed that we, as people, have slots we fit into in life, roles we play and faces we put on; sometimes we make them for ourselves and other times they are handed to us. It was not necessarily a bad thing; as a matter of fact she was fairly sure that this was how so many lives could be lived in one lifetime, going from a child to a student to a professional to a wife to a mother. She was also sure that was why for the last year she had been successfully living three lives every single day.

The problem was, Chloe wasn't so sure of that anymore.

She wasn't really sure of anything anymore.

Well, she was sure of two things. She couldn't think about it - and yet it was all she thought about.

And she hadn't called her.

She had been noticing a problem over the last few weeks; no matter how hard she tried to bend this way or that, she just - she wasn't fitting.

It was almost as though the rubber band that kept her three lives together and yet separate had ripped, leaking one into the other like a drop of ink in milk.

She had always been so good at being what the people here needed her to be. Perhaps it was her upbringing; the fact that she was at once strong and outspoken like her overbearing father, and yet soft and passive like her chameleon mother. Perhaps it was simply that her independent streak had been broken somewhere along the way, but she had fit well enough before and the fact that it wasn't working now was alarming.

It started two weeks after she returned from her trip to Los Angeles. She had spent the previous days in something of a funk, simply going about her activities and getting back into the flow of life because she had to. She had been a bit mopey and distant; she knew that. It was hard not to be with one eye on the silent phone all of the time. Poor Nick had been very confused, not understanding why she was upset, not understanding why she was withdrawn. It was true they had fought the entire morning that she had returned, but once that was over he had apologized and told her just how happy he was to see her, which Chloe believed thoroughly.

Finally one evening Nick had come home with flowers and said, 'Look, I get that you're not the happiest here and I get that you miss L.A. and your friends and I get that our lives are not as simple as they once were but I'm happy you're home.' He had said it with such an honest smile that she had felt terrible. It wasn't his fault that for some strange reason she felt a bit like she was trying to shove on a sweater that was four sizes too small.

He had given her such a hopeful smile that she knew she had to change, had to get over it. Had to stop thinking about - no, no Chlo, don't go there.

After that she had begun to pick up her routine again; mornings to herself, evenings with Nick, nights in the bedroom.

It got better and she began to feel like the version of herself she had come to know and the simple pleasure of a routine life slowly began to come back to her.

Only -

The third Tuesday after she arrived home, she had woken and made breakfast like always. The summer was moving so quickly and that morning her mind was on the near future. She knew that she had made an agreement with Nick and Marcy about not going back to work but she was beginning to wonder - there was no local music program for underprivileged youth in Henderson and she was sure that Nick would not want her driving to Vegas every day - but there were a handful of elementary schools in the area; maybe one of them needed a choir teacher. It would only take a small amount of paperwork before her teaching credentials would be completely transferred to a Nevada license and she could teach. It would be nice to do more than teach from home, plus, once the school year began her students would become far too busy for her. Maybe she could pick up more classes at the gym; the owner was always hinting that he wanted her to teach bikram too and her weekly class was always so full. She could probably split it into two.

It was a nice thought.

She and Nick had exchanged a few pleasantries over their food, even fell into a nice teasing conversation about the work party they knew they would be attending that Thursday night. They had laughed together and that had been nice, she could tell that Nick had appreciated it.

"I'm gonna be a little late tonight. I'm taking a client out for a drink. I should be home about eight or so? Do you want to have dinner together when I get home?"

Chloe nodded, clearing the breakfast dishes, wondering where he would really be and wondering why she wasn't more curious.

Then Nick had gathered his work things and kissed Chloe goodbye.

She had then taken an extra amount of time with her yoga, learning a new technique she had read about, gone for her morning run and showered. When she was clean she threw on the soft, old, overly large Barden Bellas tee shirt, the one that went all the way down to mid-thigh, a pair of shorts and had readied herself for her students.

The first, second, and third student had gone well, nothing out of the ordinary. She had spent awhile talking with their parents about their progress and how/if they would like to continue lessons once the summer was up.

When her students were done for the day, she had decided that her house needed a thorough clean. Nick was always a slob, well, he wasn't a slob, he was just a guy - or at least that was what Marcy said. 'All men are messier than women'. It was always true that no matter how long she was gone for, a night or a week, he somehow made the place messier than she could understand, especially given that he tended to eat out when she was away.

Chloe didn't mind, she kind of liked to clean. She liked the ordered simplicity of the job, of putting everything back in its place; it was calming for a not very organized or put together person.

That was when she noticed the first change.

She took a deep breath and spent a moment surveying the house. Honestly, it wasn't that bad but they had skipped spring cleaning that year, hadn't they? Their neighbors had wanted to have a block sale so they had done that instead, cleaning out the garage. Grabbing a hair tie, she spent a few minutes simply scanning the rooms, putting together a mental list of chores.

No big deal, just an afternoon or so of work.

Digging her headphones out of her purse she slipped them on, feeling strangely better the moment they were in.

Not that she was feeling bad - it was more like - distracted - more like - she pursed her lips and headed toward the living room.

Okay! Hi - ho! Hi - ho!

It took her an hour to clean the living room, the bedroom, and the master bathroom but she barely noticed, her music blasting in her ears so loudly that she could feel her eardrums rattling. It wasn't exactly a good idea to play music that loud, she liked having the ability to hear but there was something relieving about playing it so loud that it shook your soul; like shaking out the bugs and the cobwebs.

….Not that she needed relief….not that there had been a strange weight on one shoulder, whispering confusing things in her ear...it wasn't as though to stop moving, to stop and let her distractions fall felt like certain impending doom.

What was she doing?

How was she?

Had she even considered picking up the phone?

Would she?

Chloe bumped her music up a bit louder.

They did have a sound system; perhaps she should put her Tupac on through there and scare the neighbors. The thought made her laugh so much that she moved to do it, imagining the look on her neighbor's faces when the Cavanaugh house started blasting 'I Get Around' at top volume. They would probably call the police, assuming some teenagers had broken in. Halfway to the stereo, however, she changed her mind. She didn't want to give anyone a heart attack and while she knew her neighbors could use a musical education, maybe that wasn't the way to do it.

So instead she moved to the kitchen, starting the song over and flicking on the hot water to attack the dishes.

Her thoughts started to drift as she listened, scrubbing away. Nothing serious was on her mind, well...anyway... and perhaps that was why suddenly she realized that her hips were moving, bouncing up and down, spinning in circles.

She just laughed and gave in, why not? You would think after the weekend she recently had that she would hate dancing, or at least she would be a little tired of it but nope. How could anyone get tired of such a good thing? She had done this the day before too; she had put on music while preparing dinner and found herself shaking her ass across the floor as she prepared the meal. Honestly, it had turned her sour mood into a good one. So she gave in, popping and rolling at the sink, not minding as she accidentally splashed herself, the lyrics rolling through her head as she washed, shook the plates out, and then put them in the drying rack.

It was a simple joy, really. She thought of all the times that she had started a dance party in the Bella kitchen with her cleaning or cooking. Her last few years….okay, all of her senior years, she had very little to do academically since she hadn't exactly planned on failing so many times. Her coursework had been done by the end of Beca's freshman year, all except her final elective and the last handful of required student teaching hours. Since she only had one class a week, and was only student teaching a few days a week, this meant that she had a lot of free time alone in the house. It was only natural that she had not only spent a lot of time on choreography and costumes, but also that she had become the main person to do the cooking and the cleaning. She hadn't minded, she loved caring for people and the Bellas were her family. So, much like she was doing now, she would simply put on music at an ear splitting level and dance it out as she went. More often than not a Bella would wander in and join her, then another and another until all the Bellas were cramped into the kitchen shaking their booty's. It was a great stress relief.

One song turned into the next and that song turned into to three more. Lost in the music, she moved on from the dishes, taking a minute to sweep the room before filling a bucket and slopping the mop in. The song changed and Chloe could feel her smile growing as she worked, using the mop as a Patrick Swayze stand-in for her wild dance moves as she belted at the top of her lungs, "Yes, I swear, it's the truuuuth and I owe it all to yooooooou!"

She really did love to dance and, without sounding a bit egotistical, she was pretty good at it. I mean, the Bellas won so many titles and their dancing was so much of that. Perhaps it was simply that -

The scream ripped from her throat before she had given it permission, making her flail as she slipped on the puddle of suds and went down hard on her ass.

"Oh my god, ow, ow, ow, ow!" Her music had been up so loud that she hadn't heard the front door open or Nick come in. "Nick! Wha- you're home so early!" She knew she looked ridiculous sprawled across the kitchen floor, her shorts and tee shirt soapy and wet. She hadn't been doing anything wrong and yet she felt - caught - her stomach uncomfortable. She gave him an uneasy smile, "What are you doing here?...Nick?"

Then she realized what it was.

He was laughing, it wasn't a big deal, of course it wasn't, she wasn't doing anything wrong. He offered her a hand and she pulled herself to her feet, watching his face with trepidation.

His smile was huge as he teased her about the new Olympic sport she had just created, his eyes alight. He handed her a hand towel and then began wiping her legs with one of his own.

All the while, he had that look in his eye, the one that had turned her head so thoroughly in the beginning of their relationship, the one she always saw just before they would disappear into the bedroom for hours in their early dating life; that ardent focus, like a cat that had just seen a mouse.

She saw it and she knew it for exactly what it was...and her stomach turned to ice because she felt - absolutely nothing.

They went to bed together almost nightly, they had the night before and they probably would that evening... and Nick was fine in bed. It was always very - nice. She liked some things - more than others but - she could get herself into it… He wasn't terrible… he could even give her an orgasm. She could get enthusiastic, especially knowing that this was the act that would get her the family that she wanted so badly. She thought of it as...cause and effect, it was a mental game, but - she saw his eyes flick over her wet shirt and for the first time, she felt herself detach.

It felt...wrong...she almost...couldn't stand to have his eyes on her that way. She could feel them and she didn't like it, like bugs crawling up her thighs. She thought of him, of his possible arousal and blanched.

The reaction was so strong, so surprising that she took a step away from him, laughing it off when he noticed.

She used to not mind his eyes on her; hell, Chloe Cavanaugh could put on a damn good show and everyone likes - even needs to feel desired by their partner. Nick's physical response, it was a compliment but…

"What's wrong, Chlo?"

"Nothing!" She laughed, picking up the mop. There was a low-grade panic in her gut and she didn't understand it. Where was this coming from? "What are you doing home?"

"I thought I'd surprise you." He gave her that charming boyish smile, pulling off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his sleeves. She could feel his anticipation building and it just made her tired. "I cancelled drinks. I thought maybe we could have a nice night in. Dinner, maybe a movie. I'll cook."

"Ooooh, wow, you'll cook, huh?"

"Sure! Whatdya want?" He grinned again and stepped a bit closer.

Chloe took another step back, "Hmmm, there aren't a lot of delivery options in this town."

"Hey, I'm a great cook!"

She laughed; her very sweet, very lovable husband could burn water.

His hand reached out for her and she knew that if she didn't move her third life would replace her first - now - possibly in the soapy water, and she just - she would rather have a root canal. She didn't understand. She loved sex. She had done a great job with it all year; she still found it enjoyable. "Um, I'm all soapy now so here," She put the mop in his reaching hand, "Why don't you finish this while I get in the shower?"

"'Kay, but hey Chlo, why I don't I join you first?"

Chloe could hear the ragged, roughness to his voice but she was already gone, out of the room and closing the bathroom door gently but thoroughly behind her.

The softness, the feeling of pantyhosed legs against soft, shaved ones drifted into her mind, the roughness of the hotel couch under her thighs.

She turned the water on full blast, shaking her head out hard.

That wasn't the only change. It was as though being with the Bellas again had reminded her of things long forgotten, how she used to think, how she used to feel. She didn't know if she liked it because it made her wonder - how much of herself had she really lost in Henderson?

The strange thing was her Bellas weekend was also bringing another memory up, a memory from the last Bella retreat the previous year and that - that was a problem that she didn't know how to face. She had accepted that it had happened, been pleased even, she had accepted what it meant - but why was it suddenly here now, constantly knocking on the back of her mind after a year of lying dormant? She wished she had anyone she could ask but the one person - well, she hadn't called.

Her birthday came and went and though Chloe tried to insist she wasn't, she had waited all day hoping that damn phone would ring – which was silly, she was thirty now and yet…

A week into August she had been toward the tail end of cooking a very good dinner, Nick's favorite as a matter of fact, when Marcy had appeared at their front door. Things had been getting better - and worse. She was slipping a little further back into her role, pushing and shoving but - the thoughts she refused to have in the day had begun to wake her in the night, reminding her of the soft face in her palm, the small gasp of surprise.

"Heeey, Mom," Nick grinned, stepping aside to let her in.

"Good evening, oh, it smells wonderful in here."

Chloe tried to find the hidden meaning in that, there was always a hidden meaning, but she couldn't seem to find one, "Thank you, Marcy," she called over her shoulder. "Are you hungry? Would you like to stay?"

"Why thank you! It's so nice of you to offer."

"Chlo and I were just about to have a glass of wine while we wait for dinner to cook. Can I pour you one?"

"Sure, dear."

"Red or white?"

"White please."

Chloe scowled to herself over the osso buco she was placing in the pan. She and Nick had enjoyed a very nice afternoon. They had gone to an estate sale that morning and then had a nice lunch in the park. She appreciated that about Nick, he had always known how to wine and dine a lady. From what she had seen, he got it from his father. Trent could be a very charming man…when he wanted to be.

She had enjoyed her day and, while sometimes Marcy was wonderful company...sometimes she wasn't.

"Chloe, you coming?"

She took a deep breath as she placed the pan in the oven, chastising herself for her bad attitude. "Coming." How to bridge the gap between she and Marcy was something she wondered all of the time. Would it get better if she had his baby? She didn't know but she hated their relationship. She hated the tension.

She clicked on a smile and headed to join them, taking the glass of wine Nick handed her and curling into the couch beside him. He was easy to cuddle into, tall and broad. His chest had always been hard, when they had met he had only just left his rowing team but now a few years later, he had put on a little bit of a belly and Chloe liked it; it made him softer. She let him pull her under his arm and exchanged a smile with him, laughing when he nudged her wine glass as if to say 'my mother is here so drink up'. She really could have been less lucky when it came to who she married.

"Chloe sweetheart, do you think that's wise?"

"Hmm?" Her thoughts had been drifting elsewhere again.

"Well, it just seems like drinking right now would be a foolhardy thing to do."

That ripped her mind from a few weeks ago, "What?"

Marcy sighed, "What I mean is, you never know the effect it could have on-"

"On my chances of getting pregnant." Chloe finished for her, understanding, her mood dropping. Sometimes she wished that she were simply infertile, that way this could stop coming up. It was ridiculous, I mean really -

"Mom!" Nick groaned, "Really, Ma?"

"What? It just seems as though, if this were really important to her it would be wise to abstain from-"

"From what, Mom?" Nick asked, "From everything that might be bad for a baby? Please don't hint that maybe this isn't important to her or to us." Chloe knew Nick was thinking about the other day when he had come home to find Chloe bawling over a photo of a redheaded toddler in the latest 'The Children's Place' catalogue.

Chloe frowned into her wine glass, talking before she thought, "What kind of a life would that be, Marcy?" Her voice was soft as she thought but yet, she clearly wasn't thinking because what would saying this help? "We already don't have a pet because of their dander, we don't eat hot dogs or fish, I avoid everything with vitamin A in it."

"Well, I suppose a few sacrifices -"

The sudden flare of anger was unexpected and sharp as a tack, "I can't live like that, Marcy." She took another sip, stopping herself before she could start when she felt Nick's hand close lightly on her shoulder and added in a much cheerier voice, "So! I'm going to enjoy my glass of wine."

Marcy's mouth opened but Nick cut over her, "So, Mom, how's the summer charity? What's the cause again?"

The strange anger stayed in her chest, glowing like embers, while Chloe sat beside them, adding very little to the conversation. Why had it always been this way with Marcy? She had asked her once, point blank, if it was simply that Marcy did not approve of her. Marcy had laughed, actually laughed, saying that she approved just fine. Of course, that had been in the early days of this struggle.

The timer eventually went off in the kitchen and Chloe excused herself, not all that surprised when Nick offered to 'help her'.

"Hey I know you're mad but-"

"I'm not mad," Chloe smiled automatically, ignoring the tightly wound tension in her body that had been there for months now, ever present, ever growing.

"Listen, don't let her get to you." He said in a low voice, wrapping his arms around her. "I swear she thinks she's only trying to help. We know we're doing everything we can. Plus," he tickled her side ever so lightly, "I'm pretty sure that after last night you have to be pregnant. I mean - I don't know - I think that might have gotten me pregnant!"

She scoffed, pretending to be offended as he danced away.

"That might have gotten the neighbors pregnant."

There was such a silly teasing on his face that she had to laugh, giggling when he took her in his arms and danced her around the kitchen.

Nick. He was always good for a laugh.

They stayed in the kitchen for a while, teasing back and forth until Chloe was grinning, feeling better.

"Okay you, dinner is ready. Go sit down."

He gave her a wink and headed out to gather his mother, "I'll pour you another glass of wine."

"Yes, please."

"Okay, I don't want to brag," she called as she emerged, "but this meal, yeah, it's the tits. Just sayin'."

Nick's full bellied laugh filled the room as she put the serving plate down and tossed him a wink.

"Excuse me, sweetheart, but did you just say 'tits'?"

Chloe blinked, had she? She used to say that all of the time but...actually come to think of it, she had heard that term a lot recently, hadn't she?

"Please don't be so vulgar. You're a Cavanaugh. We have standards."

For a moment, she just looked back at Marcy's politely judgmental face, her mind blank.

And then, she was yelling.

She didn't know where it came from.

She didn't know how or why.

But she was yelling.

She was sick of apologizing for who she was. Why should she apologize? She was pretty great, a lot of people thought so.

The comical surprise on Marcy's face almost snapped her out of it. Almost. But oh, it felt so gooooooood.

Instead, she didn't stop until Nick was up out of his chair, laughing and making a joke about redheads. He tried to push her toward their bedroom but she just turned on him, "NO! This is not because I'm a ginger! I just - I can't even -"

She spun on her heels and stalked out of the room, fuming.

The bedroom door slammed behind her but she couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop pacing.

What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she just fit? She had always made herself fit before. Why was it so hard?

In a surge of anger, she picked up her pillow and threw it across the room. The small effort - helped. So she did it again before giving in and pummeling it with her fists.

What was wrong with her?

Why was she so tense? Why was she so angry? Was Mercury in retrograde or something?

Then again - why was she even asking herself this?

She knew.

It was the same thing that kept her singing, dancing and running during the day; the same thing that kept her on edge, the same thing that woke her every morning feeling more strained, more tense than the night before.

'I love you, awesome nerd'

God damn it! She could still feel her face pressed against her chest, she could still hear those words. She could still feel her face in her palm.

Her teeth ground together and she groaned.

Stop it, stop it, stop it!

But the thoughts wouldn't stop, not right now, not this time.

What the hell had that been? Where had it come from? Why had it happened? Had she just been trying to comfort an upset friend? Had Beca kissed her? Because - if so - that was fine. Beca had been very drunk. It didn't matter. She was completely comfortable with that. Beca had always been a flirt when she was drunk. It wouldn't have been the first time that a drunk woman had kissed her. Hell, that had been exactly how her only kiss with Aubrey had gone. Girls kissed girls when they were drunk.

No big deal. Her pacing picked up speed as she anxiously gathered her hair in her hands. She had been a bundle of nervous energy, walking, talking, and if people weren't careful around her she would shock them at a single touch.

Maybe she should relax, meditate, do some breathing exercises or - something. There was just so much, so much energy.

It had been Beca. Totally. Just a drunken, silly thing that Beca had done.

Oh no, she had yelled at Marcy. Really yelled at her. That was bad. She was going to have to apologize.

God, what was wrong with her?

The more she thought about it - that tiny kiss - the harder everything got.

She didn't want to think about it. She wanted to move on. She was back in her life and she needed to focus on that.

It had been almost two months, just shy of two months and she hadn't heard from her. She didn't know why she had expected to but she had. Those last few moments, they had been different. She thought -

That one little kiss - wow.

Hunny was a lucky woman.

Only.

She let out a frustrated shriek, wishing she had something else to throw.

It wasn't as though she could call Beca, not after that.

The bedroom door clicked open quietly and Nick gave her a small smile, "I uh, I sent my mom home with a plate."

"Right." She nodded, continuing to move. She needed to figure her stuff out.

"So you wanna talk about it or-"

She pulled him in by the collar, taking a kiss hard and quick, so much so that he let out a grunt of surprise, only to be followed by another as she pulled him onto the bed.

She just - she just needed -

He took very little convincing.

But when he slipped her shorts off she shook her head adamantly, "Would you – would you mind -" she was almost embarrassed to ask as she pushed his shoulders, directing him.

"Anything you need, bright eyes." He grinned.

These days she didn't make a lot of requests like this, requests that would not, in fact, lead to a child. She was very much in and out, get the job done and then tie a ribbon on top. She knew that. Nick didn't seem to mind that - always.

Chloe closed her eyes, chewing on her lip. This would help, it always helped. It was centering. It would clear her head.

She shifted this way; she shifted that, taking a few deep yoga breaths as she tried to clear her mind of anything but this.

Instead of emptying, the blank space slowly filled with moments of the year before, the shock of it, the feel of it.

It helped a little and the sound that came from her seemed to encourage her husband.

She shifted again, chewing on the inside of her cheek, searching for the feeling she needed, reaching for something that seemed so far away.

She remembered the way it had tasted, the little sounds and sighs, so different from anything she had heard from the men in her life.

She pushed and pulled his head roughly, desperately trying.

The thought swirled and she remembered the feeling of her face in her palm, her thumb brushing over the soft cheek, the flutter of eyelashes. She cried out as she remembered the deep blue eyes looking up at her, she remembered -

She hadn't realized she had kicked him off until he sat up looking wounded.

"Did you?"

"Yes!" She quickly lied, her thoughts frazzled.

"Great! Let's -" but she was rolling over, grabbing and pulling on the tee shirt sitting beside the bed, the overly large Barden Bella tee shirt, the tee shirt that went down to mid thigh, the tee-shirt that had once belonged to a very different Bella.

The problem was, and she could only admit this to herself late at night when Nick was already asleep beside her, she knew who had kissed who.


Ten days later and it had gone from kind of bad to very much worse.

She had no idea who she was anymore. The harder she tried to be who she was supposed to be, to fit into her slot, the less she could do.

Marcy had been crawling around a lot over the last weeks, hinting that she knew Chloe had been a less than pleasant partner as of late, which just made her mad because what kind of a grown man went and cried to his mother? Especially about sex? Yes, it was true, she had been a little less than enthusiastic in the baby making process lately and a bit more prone to simply falling asleep or pushing him away when he came close. Guilty as charged. But how could they blame her? She had gone through a very bad bout of the flu recently and – plus - she and Nick were fighting constantly.

Always.

Fighting about her lessons.

Fighting about her class.

Fighting about how many evening's he was away 'working'.

Fighting about the fact that she and his mother had never really made up and instead were living in a standoff.

Chloe didn't know if it was her and her ever present - thoughts - that were starting the fights or if it was the fact that Nick had been kind of a grumpy jerk for the last few weeks. Chloe didn't really want to deal with it; her mind was already full.

She could tell he had something big on his mind and she had tried to coax it out of him once or twice, but the thing was so did she.

She had been having a hard time and the more she thought about her weekend, the more she thought about that kiss, the more she thought about the year before, the harder of a time she had. She told herself just to let it all go, it wasn't a big deal, there was no reason to dwell - on that or the absence of a certain friend but she was having trouble with it.

Tonight the hot topic was hair, little scraggly, brown hairs all over her sink. Really the fight had started two days ago. It had been that time of the month. Not that time of the month but the everybody hovering time of the month. It happened every twenty-eight days or so.

It used to come with such fanfare, everyone waiting for her outside of the bathroom door, friends stopping by or calling, smiles all around while they waited for her to emerge with the little pink stick. Then they all sat and stared, counting in their hands and waiting for the verdict. Nick used to hold her tight, all but giddy with nervousness and whispering in her ear about baby names and preschools. She used to hold her breath for the entire minute and a half, her heart racing to see if this was the time that her dream would come true. It used to be a fun, albeit disappointing ritual.

Nowadays it looked a little more like, 'did you pee on the thing?' 'Yeah, I did.' 'Okay. What's for dinner?'

The problem was, two days ago had been the day and she had forgotten. Actually, she had forgotten to even restock their supply since she came home from L.A. She hadn't done it on purpose, it was just that the place where she bought her thirty pack of test strips was across town and she had taken on four new students in the last few weeks, all preparing for school auditions and a second class. She had just been a little frazzled and forgotten.

Nick had seen it as a personal insult, however, and their fight that night had been a doozy. They fought as they went to pick up the strips together. They fought as they drove home. They had fought until Chloe had finally closed the door on him, refusing to have an audience in the bathroom.

And the fight had simply continued. They fought about breakfast. They fought about evening plans.

They had simply fought.

She just - she didn't get it - what was so hard about wiping down the sink after using his electric razor? Why was he acting like she was crazy for thinking it was gross? It was little dead hairs...all over their bathroom sink.

"You're being unreasonable, Chlo!"

"It is not unreasonable to say that you should spend an extra five minutes wiping down the sink. You spend an hour getting that little five o'clock shadow perfect, what's an extra five minutes? It's gross!"

"Fine! But is it really worth yelling about?"

"No. No, it isn't! And yet, I have to yell these days to get you to actually listen!"

"Oh, that's just stupid!"

"Then why am I yelling, Nick? Why? I asked you nicely this morning to just give it a wipe, just one little wipe and look," she threw open the bathroom door, "little hairs everywhere!"

"I forgooot, I'm busy! Why are we even fighting about this?"

"We don't have to be, Nick! I don't want to be! I wasn't the one who started yelling, remember? What's the reason tonight? Last night you were grumpy because you lost a client, the night before it was because your team lost-"

"You're right." He ran his hands over his face, groaning, "Okay look, there's been this wall between us, so can we just, can we talk for a moment? Not fight, just talk. I mean, come on."

La Roux began to play from the living room.

"Don't answer that."

But Chloe was already moving to get it, "It could be your mother."

"Chlo! I'm tryin'- honey, can you come back for-"

She was just - she was at her wits end.

"Chloe!"

She picked up her phone and frowned.

Emily?

She and Emily had always been friends, well, if you excluded the one time that she had hinted that maybe Emily needed to die….okay, Chloe could be a little competitive. They had always liked one another but she was pretty sure that her phone had never rung with this number before.

"Chlo-" Nick sighed, following her out to the living room. "Who is it?"

"It's Emily."

"Chlo-"

But she was already answering, the strangeness of the call worrying her.

"Chloe?" The voice was heavy, thick and slurring.

Panic instantly gripped her throat, choking her. She could hear the girl's sobs on the other end of the line, the hiccupping way she couldn't take a deep breath. "Emily? Oh my god, Emily, what's wrong?"

"It's Beca."