Beca Mitchell was stupid. She was so fucking stupid.

She had only run a couple blocks before she felt certain that no one was following her. She crumpled onto a nearby bench, pressing her face into her hands. Despite not wanting to be followed, she couldn't help but feel bitter that neither Chloe nor Aubrey had come after her. It stung just that much more, like pouring alcohol on an open wound.

Stupid…

How could she not have seen this coming? The thought had literally occurred to her a few days before. Hell, Stacie had literally told her not an hour before. Why did she shrug it off? Why didn't she believe Stacie? Why didn't she trust her own instinct?

But even having had those thoughts, seeing it firsthand, really seeing it, was shocking beyond a level of comprehension. The images were burned into her retinas, the sounds on an incessant loop, like an annoying jingle you can't quit hearing. She tried to think of something else – anything else – but her efforts were futile.

God, how long had this been going on? How long had this been under her nose – under all of the Bellas' noses – without anyone noticing (save for Stacie)? Personal betrayal aside, Beca couldn't help but feel offended on behalf of all of the girls. How could Aubrey and Chloe have lied to them like that?

It just seemed so absurd, like a dream. Or more aptly, like a nightmare, Beca's nightmare.

How could Chloe…?

Beca didn't know what she was supposed to think right now. Her chest ached as tears fell. She furiously wiped them away, embarrassed by their very existence. Ugh – why did she have to be crying?

She took a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself, but it was shaky and she released it with a frustrated sigh. She was mad at herself for crying, for caring at all, honestly. How had she let this thing go so far? Why did she freely, foolishly give Chloe – and Aubrey, for that matter – the power to bring her to this very moment, to inflict this sort of damage? She let her guard down. She allowed this to happen.

Beca did her best to shake the cyclical thoughts of self-loathing. They were only going to make her feel worse, and they weren't productive. A quiet, logical voice somewhere deep inside her was telling her that this wasn't her fault. She wasn't sure she believed that, but she tried to focus on it nevertheless. She took another deep breath, a bit less shaky than the last, and released it slowly. Her cheeks were ruddy, but the tears had stopped. She needed to focus. Worlds was tomorrow and that had to be the priority. The very existence of the Barden Bellas was at stake, and that wasn't something Beca Mitchell took lightly. She needed to try to sleep tonight, for the sake of the performance. They'd come so far. She couldn't let the rest of the group down.

But could she really go back to her and Chloe's shared hotel room? What if Chloe was there? Beca tried to be rational. Chloe wasn't a thoughtless person. It stood to reason if neither she nor Aubrey had come after her that the two had probably believed it better to give Beca some space. While they were certainly right about that, for whatever reason, the thought that they hadn't chased after her twisted painfully in her stomach. As she walked back to the hotel, hoping that she wouldn't find the redhead in their room, there was a small, almost unnoticed part of her that wished she would.

Summoning all her courage, she slid the key card into the lock and quickly swung the door open. The room was dark as she stepped inside. She flicked on the light. No Chloe. And that tiny bit of hope was quickly snuffed out like the flame of a candle when met with a breath, replaced by a sullen sort of disappointment, the kind of disappointment that made a person wonder why they even bothered with hope at all.

Her sleep was restless. She'd counted backward from 100 six different times before attempting to count sheep, but the image of the fluffy animals leaping over a white picket fence was replaced repeatedly by the memory of wild red hair between Aubrey's thighs. After several hours of tossing and turning, Beca's brain had finally exhausted itself and sleep begrudgingly found her. She woke the next morning certain she felt more tired than she had before drifting off.

Beca was putting the finishing touches on her eyeliner when she heard the distinctive clicking sound of the lock on the door. She looked up as Chloe Beale stepped into the room, wearing the same clothes she had on yesterday, her hair a tousled mess around her face. Beca quickly looked back to the mirror, completing her task.

"Beca…"

"Don't," she snapped, capping her eyeliner and tossing it into her make-up bag before loudly zipping it shut.

"But Beca, I—"

"Really. Don't," she said a little more forcefully as she grabbed her messenger bag off the bed. Staring down at the floor, she brushed past Chloe and out the door before the redhead could utter another word.

The meal was going to be an awkward affair. Beca thought she could muddle through it, but hoping to avoid Chloe altogether, she had gotten up earlier than she had to. Being alone in a room with Chloe was certainly not on her to-do list today. Their encounter that morning, though brief, was enough to well up feelings once more. She now found herself in the lobby, just outside the hotel's restaurant where Bellas old and new would soon be meeting for brunch, trying to get a handle on herself. She'd put her headphones on and was blasting music, trying to lose herself in it, doing her best to ignore the aching of her chest and swallow her grief.

So what?

So Chloe and Aubrey were sleeping together. So what? So they had lied to Beca, and presumably to the rest of the Bellas. Who cares? So Chloe wasn't feeling the same sort of feelings that Beca had been feeling. Whatever. It didn't matter. She didn't care.

Her head started to pound as she held back tears. She closed her eyes and focused on the music, always on the music. She let it wash over her, drowning out the sound of everything else.

Time began to lose its meaning as she lay on the lobby sofa, hands crossed over her hips. She wasn't exactly sure how long it had been when she finally opened her eyes and sat up. She took off her headphones, placing them back in her bag. Her eyes flicked back up and Beca watched as the elevator doors opened. Aubrey stepped out. Alone. Without Chloe.

So this is how they keep up their lie, she thought bitterly.

Aubrey noticed her immediately. Beca tried not to look at her as she crossed the lobby.

"Beca! Hi."

"Hi," Beca said, standing.

"Am I the first one? Did you check in with the hostess yet?"

Beca stared at her blankly, taken aback by Aubrey's typical, cheery demeanor. She couldn't believe Aubrey wasn't acknowledging the elephant in the room. She was acting as though last night hadn't even happened.

"Uh… No. Not yet. Just about to."

"After you then," Aubrey said, gesturing toward the restaurant entrance, "Captain."

It took another long moment for Beca to adjust, but she realized she was actually very grateful for Aubrey's normalcy. It was exactly what she needed. She felt a weight in her stomach suddenly lift. She felt like she could breathe again. Aubrey was smiling at her. Everything was fine. She was going to survive this day.

"Right." Beca quirked her lips into a side smile, raising an eyebrow and giving Aubrey a mock salute before heading into the restaurant. Aubrey followed behind her.

This is fine, she reminded herself. Everything is fine.

And brunch really was fine. Beca was sure to seat herself away from both Chloe and Aubrey. She chatted instead with the women around her, namely Jessica, Ashley, Legacy and her mother. She found she was still having a hard time looking at the redhead without feeling a painful pull in her chest. They didn't speak. They didn't even make eye contact. Beca focused instead on the humiliating stories Legacy's mother was telling about her. It was a welcome distraction, and Legacy's embarrassment was so aca-adorable that Beca could do nothing less than grin through the entire meal. And join in, of course.

"So, rumor has it that Benji's coming today," Beca said pointedly.

Emily's cheeks blushed feverishly red as she looked down at her lap. "Uh…"

"Benji?" Mrs. Junk queried excitedly. "Who's Benji?" Fork and knife still in hand, her eyes landed on her daughter next to her.

"No one, Mom," she cleared her throat, flashing Beca what she guessed was supposed to be an evil glare, but Emily was cute as a button and "evil" wasn't really in her repertoire. "Just a guy. A Treble," she clarified. "He's coming with Beca's ex-boyfriend," she said with a look toward Beca. Okay, maybe a little bit evil…

"Ooh. What's the story there, Becs?"

Something about the nickname coming out of a proper adult's mouth (Beca was, after all, only a mini-adult herself) grated against her ear drums.

"No story. We were together. Now we're not. We're still friends. I didn't even know that he was coming."

Mrs. Junk pondered that for a short moment. "You know… he's coming all this way. That's a pretty grand romantic gesture… you don't think he's trying to tell you something?"

Ugh. Parents are the worst. Why didn't they get it?

Beca laughed. "Uh, no, no. Let's not confuse this. He's coming with Benji. Seems to me someone else is trying to make a grand romantic gesture," she said, looking back at Emily, whose smile suddenly vanished in favor of a look of mortification. Beca gave a smirk. Would the youngest Bella never learn? When you play with fire, you're bound to get burned.

Beca took a deep breath as she walked across the grassy field toward the stage. The venue was huge. Her stomach flipped as she briefly imagined the area crowded with people. Sure, she had performed in front of the President of the United States, but that didn't mean she was immune to pre-show jitters. After all, that was part of the thrill of performing.

But first thing's first, it was time for dress rehearsal. They checked in for their 2:30pm slot and were directed to their designated pre-show dressing room area, one in a series of white tents set back about 200 feet behind the stage. Beca fished her cell out of her pocket to check the time as she approached. 1:42pm. They still had almost an hour to kill. All the other Bellas, past and present, settled in, chatting rather loudly amongst themselves.

Beca caught Chloe's eye, but quickly diverted her attention, making a bee line for Stacie instead.

"Hey, Stace," she said, a bit frantically.

"Hey." Stacie looked up at her from her seat and must have noticed the stiffness in her shoulders, or perhaps the look on her face. "You okay, B?"

"Uh – not really. Is, uh… Can you see Chloe? Is she looking over here?" Stacie shifted slightly to peer around Beca.

"Yup," she answered simply.

"Shit."

"And now she's walking over here…"

"Shit. Shit. Shit."

"3…2…1…"

"Hey, Becs," came Chloe's sunny voice from behind. Beca felt every muscle in her body instantly tense at the sound. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

Chloe was making it sound casual, totally normal, like she wanted to talk captain business, but Beca knew better than that. She knew that wasn't the case. Beca cleared her throat, shifting her weight from one foot to another, hopelessly stalling for even just one moment more. She couldn't exactly say no. She didn't know how to do that with starting something and rousing suspicion among the rest of the girls.

"Sure," she said, pausing another second before turning around. Unable to make eye contact, she stared instead at her shoes. "Should we, uh…" she gestured toward the exit of the tent with her thumb.

She walked until she knew they'd be well out of earshot. Beca could feel Chloe following closely behind. Her mind raced. She didn't want to do this. What was she even supposed to say? This situation was seriously fucked. How was she supposed to say anything at all?

Beca took a deep breath before turning on her heel, facing Chloe with her arms folded across her chest. After a beat, she brought her eyes up to meet Chloe's.

"What?" she asked, thinking her best option was to act immediately defensive. Maybe rudeness would be enough to convince Chloe that whatever she was about to say wasn't worth saying.

"I'm sorry," Chloe said simply, her eyes pleading.

Emotion ripped roughly through Beca. She didn't want to fight with Chloe – or maybe she did – but rudeness morphed into fury as the next words spilled out of her mouth. "You're sorry? Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Beca watched as Chloe's gaze faltered. She clearly wasn't expecting this level of anger in Beca's response. When they reconnected, Chloe's eyes were steely, though still apologetic, and maybe a little bit broken.

"Yes, Beca, I'm sorry. Jesus. What do you want me say? I'm sorry that Aubrey and I didn't tell you—"

"That you were fucking? Yeah, okay," she said with a scoff.

"That's not—" Chloe's voice cracked and when Beca looked back at her, her eyes were downcast, her shoulders a bit slumped. She looked dejected and defenseless, and Beca's heart ached for her for a brief moment. She wanted to say something that would fix it. And she almost did, but goddamn it, Beca was still angry as hell and she had every right to be. This thing was broken. There was no fixing it. It was forever fractured, like a porcelain figurine carefully glued back together. And it hadn't even been glued yet. Beca wasn't sure it ever would be.

When Chloe looked up again, her eyes were watery – shaking even – her cheeks stained with tears. Something in Beca's chest tugged again as she watched Chloe take a slow, trembling breath.

"Look, I—" Chloe stopped short. "I didn't mean—I just… It wasn't supposed to go like this. I'm sorry."

"Yeah? How was it supposed to go? Tell me." Beca waited a moment for a response, but her harsh tone had Chloe crying again, a hand covering her face. "Fuck, Chlo, I-I thought that—I mean, Jesus, I actually—" Her voice was too loud. Not that she could bring herself to finish that thought out loud anyway… "Forget it," she said, more quietly. "I can't handle this. Can we not do this right now? Can we just focus on the performance? Please?" Beca was surprised by how desperate she sounded. It was raw and it was honest. Now was not the time for this.

When Chloe didn't immediately answer, Beca said her name forcefully, but without emotion. "Yeah… yes," Chloe sniffled. "Sorry..."

The dress rehearsal went off without a hitch. The women all returned to their respective rooms to rest before the final performance. Beca once again found herself alone in her and Chloe's shared room – likely due to the warning glare she had given Chloe on their walk back to the hotel.

She was lying in bed, somewhere between consciousness and dreaming, trying her best to relax and focus her mind on the Bellas set, on the music itself, when there was a knock at her hotel room door. Her eyes flashed open. Who would be knocking? Maybe it was next door. She closed her eyes again and settled back into the bed, but the knock came again a few moments later. This time, she sat up and crept quietly to the door.

"Who is it?" she called, worried it might be a certain redhead.

"I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

Jesse. She quickly unlocked the door.

"Top Gun. 1986," he said, stepping inside.

Beca would have rolled her eyes, but the moment she saw him she felt overcome with emotion – not a unique experience for the past 18 hours. She rushed toward him, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle as she pressed her face against his chest.

"Hey, hey," he uttered, clearly startled by the display of affection. His hands were held awkwardly in the air until he moved one to gently brush the hair on the back of her head. "What's wrong?"

She took a frantic step back from him, unsure of what had possessed her to do that in the first place. "No, nothing. What makes you think something's wrong?"

He gave her a pointed look.

"What? I haven't seen you in, like, forever. Can't a friend just hug another friend?"

"Not if that friend's Beca Mitchell," he chuckled.

"Shut up." She slapped his shoulder and shook her head exasperatedly as he feigned injury.

"Ow!" Jesse exaggerated, gripping the abused shoulder. "Looks like someone's been eating their spinach."

"You're an idiot," she smiled.

When Jesse finally stopped kidding, he took on a serious tone. "No, for real, though. What's going on?" It was a tone Beca recognized well and knew was pointless to resist. "Is this about the Chloe thing?"

Beca felt a lump rise in her throat. She couldn't lie to him, but could she really talk to him about this?

Beca sighed, her eyes on the floor. "Yeah."

"Do you want to talk about it?" His question was so sincere; it made her feel like crying. Because, yes, she really did need to talk to him and it felt so good to hear him say that. She always needed to talk to him. He was the only person she knew that made any sense. She realized now that she'd been completely lost without him these last few weeks.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I mean – I know this is – uh… you're sure?"

Jesse smiled sweetly. "Yeah, Becs. I'm sure. What happened?"

A/N: I'm sorry about the delay on this one, and I appreciate your patience. Thanks for sticking with me! Let me know your thoughts by leaving a review, or hitting me up on Tumblr at v3ronica-summ3rs.