As always, much love to thecurlingiron, who has a lot of patience with me and loves me no matter how much angst I throw her way :).

Fix Me?

Chapter Three- Beaches and Bleaches

Part of Beca knows why they're there.

The other part is in denial.

"No, Chloe, I don't want to go into Jesse's building. I'll wait out here."

Chloe rolls her eyes and drags the petite brunette through the double glass doors, reciting for the umpteenth time the lie they've concocted to give the the fighting couple. "He's not going to be there, we're just picking up a couple of Trebles to have drinks. Man up, we'll get you drunk soon enough." They pass a common room with about five Trebles playing the newest console game they can find.

Beca huffs. "Why can't I woman up? Why can't I non-binary up? Stop being so sexist Chloe," she jokes at the end. Chloe gives her an exasperated laugh, the breathy kind that escapes without the person noticing. Beca bumps into an end table on accident, but continues walking and just rubs her sore hip.

They are about to pass an open custodial closet just as Donald comes around the corner.

Of fucking course. As Beca's luck would have it, Jesse is trailing him.

The four friends stop in front of the closet, with Beca and Jesse looking anywhere but at each other.

Jesse is the first to say anything. "Hey Chloe. . . Beca."

She looks up, too. "Hey."

Donald and Chloe look at each other, nodding simultaneously before pushing the two into the closest and slamming the heavy door closed. Donald holds it as the trebles from the common room spring to help their part in this plan: moving the end table in front of the door.

Once that's accomplished, Chloe calls out to the screeching humans in the closet. "Work it out, and we'll let you out. Have fun!"

Inside the dark closet, they scramble for a switch for a couple minutes before all of the cleaning supplies are illuminated from a single light sitting on the shelf. They sit in silence for far too long.

Jesse jumps into the conversation he knows is coming, wanting it over with.

"All I want to do is help, Beca. I know you want to be more open. I know that! But I just don't see any way I can help you do it." He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Beca gives a small, tired smile. "That's the thing, Jesse," she sighs. "You can't. I have to sort through my stuff on my own. Don't you see?" She moves forward, their bodies a foot apart. "I'm never going to take down my walls if I don't feel comfortable. And you asking me to change, pressuring me into something I'm not ready for. . . That's not helping."

His brow scrunches and the corners of his lips turn down. "So it's my fault?"

She huffs. "No! Will you just listen to me for once? It's not always about you, about how you can fix it or how you can help or what you did! My problems are not caused by you! I hate to break it to you, Jesse, but not everything that I do involves you, and my insecurities are not something for you to take on as a charity case! They are not something for you to judge, to control, or to pretend to love. This is what I am, Jesse. At this point in time, this is all I can give. Maybe later, maybe when I've sorted through things, I can be more open. But know this: I will get through it for my benefit, not yours. And once that happens, once you realize that, I might be able to look you in the eyes again."

The silence that follows surrounds them, engulfs them in each other's shame. To them, and to those across and down the hall, the silence is louder than Beca could ever hope to shout. Beca turns toward the door and gently knocks. "Please let me out." No response. "I know you're listening," she sighs. "I am just. . . so tired. So tired. And so very, very sorry. But please, let me out now."

The door opens and the outside is too bright to allow them to see the person that opened the door. Light from the window pours in, and Beca's shadow trails behind her as she walks out and thanks the unknown figure with their hand on the doorknob. He faintly hears them trying to speak, to convince him to walk out of the closet.

This light is too bright, Jesse thinks as Beca's shadow stretches, stretches, stretches until it breaks out of the confines of the closet and trails behind her and out the glass doors. And it is. He always expects rain, drizzle, even just a cloudy day when he looks out into the world since the Big Fallout. Sunlight so natural, giving off such a happy atmosphere, makes him feel worse. Because he realizes that the world keeps going. Life keeps going even if it feels like his has stopped. Her life will go on.

But so will mine. His face contorts as he slides down the wall, and the unknown person finally walks away. And that hurts even worse. What he thought to be the most important to him will have no impact whatsoever on his life.

But it will. It won't show on the outside, his inner monologue points out. But nothing you do will be the same as it could've been if you were still together. And that's true of any choice you make. So pure is the sunlight that the situation seems surreal. Jesse picks himself up and walks out of the closet, closing the door behind him.

Life may go on, but it's gonna be a bitch to deal with.

Alright guys, that's the last of it! Thanks to any of you that stuck with this story. I'm definitely not the most punctual (year gaps are kind of a downer, huh?)!

As always, reviews are not necessary but they never fail to warm my heart. Once again, thanks for reading. I'm getting back into the writing game for now, although you shouldn't hold me to that too much!

Lot of love,
Aimee