A/N: Thanks again to everyone for giving this fic a chance! I'm happy you're enjoying it so far, and I hope you continue to enjoy it the further along we get. Please leave reviews, and continue to let me know what you think! :)

Chapter 4: Girl on Fire

Beca smells the fire long before she sees it.

Pushing past the doors of the cafeteria, she is met by that distinctly acrid odor - unpleasantly sharp and bitter. It ignites within her a sense of urgency, and she clambers up the nearest tree, caring little for the strange looks it earns her. Sunset hovers above the campus and night will soon be upon them; shrouded in shadow, Beca is confident that she will not be identified, and determines - considering the circumstance, and whatnot - that it's safe for her to be a little less discreet with her powers.

She ties her hair messily into a bun, and shucks off her blue plaid shirt, shoving it into her bag which she stashes on the highest branch for safe keeping. Any other unnecessary layers are immediately shed; accessories are removed, and jewelry is put away; anything extra that can either catch fire, get snagged, or weigh her down - all is set aside until she's left in nothing but a tank top, her jeans, and her boots.

Climbing higher, Beca emerges from the treetops, nestled amongst the canopy as she stares off into the distance. The flames - bright and menacing - dominate the horizon, and she watches on in horror as fire consumes the building. Noxious fumes rise higher and higher, as if in offering to the heavens, and even from a distance, it is potent enough to irritate her already drying throat.

'That is one hell of a bonfire,' she muses, as she prepares to leap.

"BECA!"

The brunette falters at the sound of her name, ducking through the leaves and foliage as she seeks out that familiar head of red hair. She watches as Chloe stumbles along the steps to the cafeteria, voice laced with panic as she twists round and around, blue eyes darting this way and that in search of the vanished freshman. Guilt gnaws at her insides, settling deeply in her gut, and Beca almost turns back; almost stays.

But something greater calls, something far above her own wants or needs.

"See you around," she sighs in parting, regretful but determined as she sets her sights once more on the peril that lies ahead.

Crouching, she lets the tension build in her thighs before releasing it in a single bound, springing forward at high speed. Leap after leap, she hurdles across campus towards the swiftly growing blaze, skidding to a halt atop the school's clock tower, which stands directly across the science building.

The heat is intense, even from a dozen yards out; a layer of sweat quickly dampens her brow, skin flushing as she stands before the flames. Beca takes a moment to observe, working out her game plan as she constructs a mental layout of the burning structure, using her knowledge of the school's architecture and standard format in conjunction with her enhanced precognitive abilities. Most of the students and faculty have already made it out on their own, a few stragglers rescued by first responders; but a portion of the roof is collapsed, and she can 'see' several figures huddled together on the top floor, in what they must believe to be their last moments.

Suddenly, the building is rocked by a secondary explosion, no doubt caused by the excessive buildup of heat. Several windows shatter outwards, sending broken shards of glass flying as a burst of flames punches through. Beca shields her face from the blast, gritting her teeth as a rush of warmth sweeps through the area, increasing the temperature of the air by a good ten or so degrees. She can hear the terrified screams from onlookers below, near deafening in pitch, and she realizes there is no time for careful planning - it's now or never.

"Fuck it," she growls, throwing caution to the wind. Vaulting across the several yard gap, Beca lands on the roof in a tuck and roll, burying her face into the crook of her elbow as she inhales a mouthful of ash and embers.

Spotting the access door, she kicks it open and descends rapidly into what can only be described as the pits of Hell. It's more than just a fire, it's an inferno; it is death incarnate, a demon that writhes grotesquely along the floor and ceilings, laying claim to all that it touches. Beca feels herself grimace, flames licking at the heels of her boots; testing her, tasting her flavor - as if to decide whether or not to savor her slowly, or devour her whole…

(She figures it's best if she doesn't give it the chance to make up its mind.)

Beca grits her teeth, the angle of her jaw clenched in sharp resolve as she runs, barreling through the inflamed hallways. Fire kisses her cheeks, beckoning her softly like an impassioned lover; warm at first, and then burning hot; hotter, and hotter still. It lashes out, enraged by her noncompliance, no longer gentle but aggressive as it claws her bared flesh; she can feel portions of her skin begin to crack and split, like that of a roasted pig, and she pushes herself to move faster before she becomes just that.

'There!' her senses tell her, as she comes across a section of hallway that has been caved in, an array of fallen beams, bricks and concrete blocking a straight path through. Beca eyes the pylons wearily, mulling over their weight; she knows she's strong, having tested her strength against every heavyweight in the local gym, but even after all these years, her max limit is yet to be determined.

She reckons now is as good a time as ever to find out.

"Shit, that's hot!" she hisses, quickly retracting her hands as they practically sear on contact. She stares down, eying the quickly forming blisters and grimaces, realizing that she has no other choice if she wants to get these people out on time. Bracing herself for the pain to come, she grips the first beam and lifts, surprised to find that - while heavy - it's not nearly as heavy as she'd initially anticipated. Still, while the weight is relatively comfortable, having her hands fried is not, and she pulls it loose with a powerful tug.

Backing up, she places it down somewhere out of the way and gets to work on the rest, doing her best to ignore the agony of her hands. Music has always been her escape, her safe haven from the world; her personal sanctuary against everything and anything. Beca turns to it in her every instance of need, and consciously or unconsciously, she turns to it now as she fights back the urge to scream.

"She's just a girl, and she's on fire," she hums, her voice raw and aching. (Because even in matters of life or death, Beca can always rely on her crude sense of humor to make an appearance.) "Hotter than a fantasy, longer than a highway. She's living in a world, and it's on fire."

By the time she's finished clearing the path, Beca's hands are charred and bloodied; her skin is baked, layered with scorch marks and burns. The pain is like nothing she's ever felt before, and though it hurts, she isn't finished yet - not by a longshot. Obstinate and hard headed, Beca shakes off her own discomfort and continues on, letting instinct guide her to a classroom door that has been barricaded from the inside.

"Smart yet stupid," she murmurs, ripping the door cleanly off its hinges; though the fire has not yet touched this room, the air is thick and heavy with smoke, hazy with gray clouds that make it difficult to see and even more difficult to breathe. By now, everyone is either passed out or teetering on the edge of it, and Beca doesn't think twice about grabbing the nearest table and hurling it at the window.

"I've got you, don't worry. You're going to be okay," Beca promises soothingly, throwing two students over her shoulders as she leaps towards safety. Though this side of the building is secluded from the main walkway, the flying table and subsequently broken glass has garnered the attention of others, who come rushing over to investigate. A firefighter orders one of his men to grab a ladder, but Beca is already on the move again, depositing her passengers into the arms of waiting medics before clambering back up the wall.

Of course, with an audience now, Beca is forced to slow her pace and make a show of climbing the rain gutter before swinging her way to the window's ledge. Pulling herself in, she exits a few moments later, with two more victims slung over her back.

"What? But? How did you-...?" the fireman stumbled, flabbergasted, as she hops from the windowsill and sticks her landing.

Although she is careful, Beca has been caught once or twice in the past, and is ready with an excuse when he asks. "Parkour," she explains briefly, turning to make her return for the remaining people. A hand is placed on her shoulder and she winces as pressure is applied to her scorched skin; though the man isn't nearly strong enough to hold her back, she lets him, and waits for an explanation.

"We've got it from here," he says, indicating to his subordinates, who have come back with the ordered ladder. Smiling fondly, he adds, "You did good, kid. Now get yourself to a medic. You look like you're about to cough out a lung."

Relief washes over Beca as she watches the firefighters make their ascent, grateful that she won't be needed any longer. Helping people is one thing, but killing herself over it… well, she hasn't quite made that sort of commitment just yet. A fireman gently guides her towards triage, where she is swept into the embrace of a waiting medic, who wraps her up in a blanket and quickly fits her with a mask.

"Oh, yep. That's the good stuff," she chokes out, as fresh oxygen is pumped through her respirator. He leads her to a bench and tells her to sit tight while he gathers a few supplies, and though Beca desperately wants to let him tend to her wounds, she's not about to give herself away. With the earlier chaos, she doubts anyone has gotten a good look at her face, and she would very much like to keep it that way.

Taking a deep breath, Beca removes the mask and slips free of her blanket, walking quickly from the secured perimeter and out into the encroaching darkness. Everyone is either too busy or otherwise occupied to notice her leave, and she makes a clean getaway, retaking her position atop the clock tower to observe from afar. It's only when she's certain that everyone has escaped, and the firefighters begin their full-on assault of the flames, does she claim it a job well done.

"Oh my god, Aubrey! I'm such an idiot!"

Chloe is in full blown panic, heart caught in her throat as she races across the school grounds, hoping against hope that her fears will be proven wrong. Aubrey, who she's called back, listens intently from the other side of the line and attempts to put two and two together.

"Why, what's going on? What's wrong? Why are you an idiot?" she asks, her own worry coming to the forefront as she imagines any number of possibilities. "Chloe, why are you running? More importantly, where are you running to?"

"Beca! I have to find Beca!" Chloe pants, jogging across the main lawn.

There's a pause, and then, "Who the hell is Beca?"

"The girl! The one I've been looking for - the one who saved me!" she explains, tightening her grip on her phone as she shoves past a group of students. "I ran into her in the quad, and we were having dinner together in the cafeteria. But then you called, and I don't know what happened… she overheard about the fire, or something, and I'm like ninety-nine point nine-nine percent sure that this chick has some sort of hero complex, because she just up and left! Like, literally… all she said was, "I have to go" and then she bolted!"

"And… and how does this come back to you being an idiot?" the blonde questions, trying to find the logic behind her earlier statement. "If this Beca girl feels the need to play hero, then that's her issue, not yours. Besides, you barely know her. What if it's just a coincidence, and she forgot something in class, or had to meet up for a study group? She could have gone anywhere, so what makes you think - besides her previous act of valor with you - that she decided to just up and run, straight into a three-alarm fire?"

"I just… I-I just know, okay?" Chloe exclaims, huffing with exasperation. "Because I could see it in her eyes! I could see it on her face! She… she had that same exact look the night I got attacked, and I just know she's doing something stupidly reckless or brave… most likely both. And… oh, god! I should have stopped her!"

"Look, Chloe…" Aubrey sighs, pausing momentarily as she mulls over her words, "I know you feel like you owe this girl your friendship, or loyalty, whatever… and it's understandable. She saved your life, but that doesn't make her your responsibility. You don't need to go running after her, especially if she's stupid enough to go running in the direction of danger!"

"I know, Aubrey. I know," the redhead murmurs, as she slows to a halt, bending over to catch her breath. "I just… I want to make sure she's okay. That's all."

Aubrey sighs again, knowing there's nothing she can say or do to stop the redhead. "Be careful," she eventually concedes, "And keep me updated."

They exchange a few more words before Chloe hangs up, her previous anxieties returning as she comes across the mass of onlookers. 'Half the school must be here,' she thinks, nudging her way through the crowd, muttering apologies as she navigates a path towards the front. There, she is met by police barricade and an officer telling her that she can't go any further, which she immediately contends.

"No, please," she implores, putting years of high school theater and stage performance to good use as she lets her eyes slowly fill with tears, "My g-girlfriend, she has… she has classes in there with Dr. Powell! She was supposed to meet me for dinner when she got out, but she never showed… a-and now she isn't answering her phone! She isn't responding to my texts, none of our friends have seen her, and-..."

"Okay, okay," the officer interjects, holding a hand up in the universal sign for 'calm down'. "Look, there were some people trapped inside who've just been pulled out. I can't guarantee your girlfriend will have been one of them, but let me bring you over and you can check."

(Frantic, crying female - works every time.)

Chloe thanks him profusely, throwing in a choked sob for good measure as he lifts the yellow tape and lets her through. Hand on her shoulder, he leads her to where they'd set up triage, and she wastes no time in asking the nearest medic if she's seen a small brunette. She's given the run around, continuously told to talk to so-and-so, only to be directed to someone else the instant she finds them. It takes some time, but she finally locates someone who recognizes Beca by her description.

"I know exactly who you're talking about," the man nods, as he pauses his work to sanitize his hands and replace his gloves. "She rescued four people before the firefighters got to her. I treated her with some oxygen and told her to take a seat while I grabbed my things, but the instant I turned around, she was gone."

"Gone?" Chloe repeats, "Do you know where she went?"

"No, sorry," he says, frowning. "Like I said, all I did was turn around to grab a few things. When I looked back, she was nowhere to be found. Just… poof! Gone. Disappeared into thin air. Didn't even catch her name."

If she had had any doubts before, then this was all the proof she'd needed to confirm her suspicions. While she hasn't known her long - or very well, for that matter - this had Beca written all over it; there one second, and gone the next seemed to be her trademark move, and Chloe is at least comforted by the fact that she had been well enough to make an escape. Thanking the medic for his time, she whips out her phone to text Aubrey, contemplating what her next move will be.

Beca is still smouldering by the time she reaches her dorm, wisps of smoke and heat rising from her body as she digs her fingers under the grooves of the sill and yanks their window up. It had become a sort of unspoken rule between her and her roommate to keep it unlocked, if only because Kimmy Jin doesn't want the hassle of opening it every time she decides to come through - which, basically, is all the time.

(The first time Beca had been locked out, she had been caught in a late summer storm, and Kimmy Jin stared at her for ten minutes before finally relenting. "You looked like a wet dog begging to be brought in," was her deadpan remark. "It was really pathetic.")

Thankfully, Kimmy Jin has an event with the Korean Society tonight and had "politely" informed her that morning that she would be staying with a friend (how she has friends is beyond Beca, but she can't really be one to judge).The dorm is all hers for the night, and for that, Beca is grateful; after all, the other girl already thinks she's crazy as is, and coming back smelling like an ashtray really doesn't help her cause.

Beca keeps the window open and turns on her desk fan, hoping to air out the room as she gathers her toiletries into a shower caddy. The DJ reeks of smoke and is in desperate need of a thorough cleaning, already imagining how many washes it will take before her hair stops smelling like a discarded cigarette butt. She makes a mental note to febreeze the shit out of their dorm when she returns, and after slipping into her bathrobe, departs for the communal showers directly down the hall.

Although it's night, the hour is still early, and most students are either in evening classes, at dinner, acting as spectators at the fire, or otherwise occupied by the slew of activities Barden has to offer. Fortunately for Beca, that means the showers are completely empty and she won't be bothered by questioning stares, or worse, approached in some misguided theory that she needs aid.

Yes, her hands resemble overcooked pork chops, and yes, a good portion of her body is covered in first and second degree burns, but no. No, she does not need to see a doctor, and no, she is not dying. For along with her enhanced physicality, Beca's powers include the strange - but certainly not unwelcome - ability to heal at incredible rates; whereas a normal person would take weeks to recover, she knows her injuries will be gone within a matter of days. Anything short of a bullet wound, or an amputated limb, she knows she can pretty much come back from with just a bit of rest and relaxation.

Still, that doesn't mean Beca is immune to pain, and as she strips off her robe to step beneath the lukewarm spray, she's forced to bite a fist in order to stifle her screams of agony. Now that the earlier adrenaline has faded, she is left to face the brunt of her damaged body alone, and she wishes more than anything that she had thought to take a few ibuprofen while still basking in the glow of her post-heroics high.

"Fuck," she groans, bracing herself against the tiled wall as water cascades down her aching form. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Beca slides to the floor, falling to her knees as she rests limply on the back of her calves, hacking up globs of what looks like black tar and the occasional clot of blood. Her lungs are most likely as damaged inside as she is on the outside, and it's only the knowledge of her accelerated healing that keeps her from completely freaking out. Even then, it's concerning to see, and she sits there for what seems like hours, letting the water wash away her numerous aches and pains.

Again, as she did earlier in the fire, Beca turns to music for comfort; she thinks of the new mix she's been arranging, remembers listening to it out on the quad before the insanity of the night had taken over her life. Titanium flashes through her mind, and not a moment later, she's singing along on shaky breath.

"You shout it out, but I can't hear a word you say," she manages to warble out, "I'm talking loud, not saying much… I'm criticized, but all your bullets ricochet…" Beca's nerves are shot; she trembles beneath the weight of her body's anguish, and though her voice wavers, she belts the chorus, "I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose… fire away, fire away. Ricochet, you take your aim… fire away, fire away. You shoot me down, but I won't-..."

"You can sing!" someone cries, and for a long, terrifying moment, Beca swears her heart has stopped.

"Dude, no!" she eventually shrieks, lurching to her feet as she whips around and snags the shower curtain, using it as an impromptu shield to hide behind. "No!" Beca growls, one hand holding the curtain and the other shaking a stern finger at the overly giddy redhead, as if reprimanding an unruly puppy for having chewed the rug. "No, no, no. This is NOT okay."

"How high does your belt go?" Chloe questions, eyes wide and lit up like Christmas morning.

"My… m-my what?" she squeaks, her own eyes wide, though for very much different reasons. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not wearing a belt! In fact, I'm kind of not wearing anything at all! Because we are in the shower. And I am naked."

She stares, dumbfounded, at Chloe who stands in all her bare glory, hands proudly on her hips as she takes the situation in with an air of nonchalance. It takes a moment for this particular image to sink in, and then-...

"Oh. My. God. Why are you naked too!?"

Beca instantly regrets turning down the rape whistle at the start of the year, squishing herself into the corner of the stall in a futile attempt at escape. For a split second, she considers giving herself away; it wouldn't take much for her to climb the wall, up and over the senior and out the door to safety. But the tiles are slick, and her hands bare the worst of her injuries, meaning it will be as physically traumatizing as this is mentally scarring.

She is, for better or worse, trapped.

'What is the point of super senses if they don't work!?' she wails internally, clutching more tightly to the flimsy, plastic screen. Seriously, how was it possible for Chloe to keep surprising her like this? It shouldn't even be an issue, though Beca strongly believes that this is more Chloe's fault than her own.

"Oh, c'mon," Chloe scoffs, rolling her eyes as she reaches for Beca's shampoo and squeezes a generous amount into the palm of her hand. "We're both girls. It's not as if you haven't seen any of this stuff before."

"That… that is so not the point!" Beca retorts, "This is a serious invasion of privacy, and a major violation against human decency! I… I am nude," she reiterates, "And apparently so are you."

"I think we've established the nudity," the senior laughs, as she gently forces a (very) reluctant Beca to turn her back towards her. Lathering the dollop of shampoo in her hands, the redhead gives it a quick whiff and smiles, releasing a pleased "ooh, jasmine!" as she tenderly works her fingers through Beca's hair.

"What are you doing?" she hisses, indignantly. "And how are you even here right now?"

"I'm washing your hair, duh," Chloe answers, as though it's obvious. "And I followed you."

Beca recoils sharply. "I thought you said you weren't stalking me!"

"I'm not," she sighs, shaking her head at the freshman's superfluous need for dramatics. "When you ran off at dinner, I figured you were headed straight for the science building, and went after you. Only, when I got there, everyone I talked to said that you had disappeared, and since I don't have your number, or any other way of contacting you, I decided to just search the freshman dorms, level by level. I wanted to make sure that you were okay."

The brunette is oddly touched by her dedication, but says nothing of it as she asks, "And… how exactly does that lead to you barging into my shower unannounced?"

Chloe shrugs and pulls Beca back beneath the shower head, letting the water wash away the frothy remains and rinse out her hair. "I caught sight of you just as you stepped into the bathroom," she explains, now reaching for the conditioner. "I tried waiting outside, but you've been in here for like half an hour, and I started to get worried that you'd drowned or something. I came to investigate, and saw you kneeling in the shower…"

Her voice softens, a hint of gentle affection in her tone as she goes on, "You just looked so small, and so hurt… I really couldn't just stand there and watch you suffer all alone, especially after what you did for those people back at the fire. Not only did you deny credit for stepping in, but you denied yourself basic medical attention - which FYI is really stupid - and I just… I wanted to help, in whatever way I could. And you looked exhausted, too tired to even wash yourself properly… so, I decided to do it for you."

"That is seriously creepy," Beca states rigidly, though she is quickly pacified with the way Chloe massages conditioner into her hair. "... but, it's also kind of nice - in a really weird, not normal way - and as much as this makes me uncomfortable, I'm… kind of okay with this…"

"Totally called it," Chloe giggles, as she once again rinses her head. "You like to act all tough and badass on the outside, but inside, you're a real softie."

Beca doesn't comment, her eyes growing heavy as she slowly learns to relax, leaning unconsciously into the redhead's touch as she releases a soft hum of contentment. "Why are you doing this?" she asks instead, the weariness evident in her tone.

"I dunno," Chloe replies, offering only a shrug of her shoulders in answer. "I may be completely off with this assessment, but I just sort of assumed you're the type of person to step in where others can't, offering assistance to those that need it, and never asking for anything in return. I mean, that's at least how you were with me, and my theory on you was only reinforced by your actions during and after the fire today."

"You're always helping everyone else," she mumbles, smiling as Beca's eyes flutter shut beneath the ministrations of her hands; very similar to that of a puppy receiving its favorite head rub. "But wouldn't it be nice to let someone else help you for a change?"

Beca doesn't know what to say, let alone what to think. She had always been an independent spirit, and had learnt early on in life that the only person you could truly trust and rely on was yourself. She wasn't against giving help; in fact, she pretty much thrived on it (in her own ways), but when the tables were turned and she stood on the receiving end of it, things were a little different.

"Er, I guess…" she replies, eloquently.

Chloe grins but doesn't push it, instead waving Beca's shower pouf at her and warning, "This is probably gonna sting."

And it does. Beca has to refrain from letting loose a long string of expletives, cursing silently beneath her breath as the older girl gently scrubs her back and shoulders. Her body is tense, wound more tightly than a coiled spring, and Chloe frowns as she realizes that she's trembling.

"Hey, you were singing Titanium right?" she asks, in an attempt to distract her mind from the pain of her body.

Beca is, for lack of better word, surprised. "You… you know David Guetta?"

"Have I been living under a rock? Yeah!" Chloe gasps, cheerfully. "That song is my jam!" she exclaims, and then more playfully, "My lady jam."

Aaand they're back to creepy. "That's nice," Beca breathes, ducking her head shyly.

"It is," she insists, a gleeful smirk forming at her lips as she watches the brunette squirm. "The song really builds…" Chloe hears a whispered, "gross!" but presses on, "Can you sing it for me?"

"What? Dude, no!"

"Ugh, not for that reason!" she shoots back, pulling a face. 'Though, I wouldn't exactly say no if you offered…' she muses, watching the freshman fidget anxiously. "I just want to hear you sing again. Please?"

Beca tilts her head, watching the ginger over her shoulder as she considers the request. On one hand, she doesn't do live performances, preferring to sing in the quiet of her room or when she's otherwise alone; on the other, she gets the feeling that Chloe won't let up any time soon, and with their current situation as it is, extending their shower any further than necessary is definitely not happening.

She caves.

"I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose…" Beca makes it only to the second verse before she realizes someone else is singing along; Chloe's voice is higher in pitch, softer and sweeter in harmony, but melds flawlessly with her own. They sing the chorus, voices ebbing and flowing, and she's completely blown away by the near tangibility of the power their singing creates…

By the time they reach the end, Beca has turned and faces her fully, eyes locked heatedly with her own; searching their blue depths for something she can't quite define. Chloe beams, smiling from ear to ear, happy to let her find what she already knows is there.

A/N: Review, please and thank you!