Names in bold are to indicate characters having a text conversation, hopefully it works ok for you. Enjoy!

Jerry: Hey boss, how're you doing?

Beca: I'm dying.

Beca: Still.

Jerry: No better then?

Beca: Well...I'm not seeing double any more

Jerry: I can tell

Jerry: Your typing is coherent

Beca: You're a dick

Jerry: You love it

Beca: Not dick. What I love is not being ill.

Jerry: And ice cream?

Beca: God yes, I love that more than anything ever!

Jerry: Good I'll bring some when I drop off the raw recordings from today?

Beca: You're an angel

Jerry: I thought I was a dick?

Beca: Angel dick?

Jerry: Please take your meds. I'll be round tonight for debrief.

Beca: K.

Beca let the phone drop to the pillow beside her head and groaned, feeling incredibly sorry for herself. She'd come down with flu two weeks earlier and had been very ill to start with. She didn't remember much from the first week, but from what Jerry had told her she'd been pretty out of it. He'd gone round the first day she failed to turn up for work, as it wasn't at all like Beca to bail on work ever, not least without telling anyone why. So of course Jerry, fearing the worst, let himself into her apartment that day with great trepidation, worried about what he might find.

It was lucky Beca had had the foresight to leave a spare key with him some time ago, because what he did find was his producing partner passed out on her living room floor, burning a terrifying fever and nearly non-responsive. He'd taken her straight to hospital where they admitted her and administered IV fluids and medication immediately, before diagnosing a bad case of influenza. After two days of care, they sent her home with a list of pills necessary to keep her fever down and her lucid. All in all, Jerry had been – perhaps literally – a life saver. He'd been running back and forth to the pharmacy and grocery store for Beca, checking in on her and insisting on taking at least a couple of days off work to stay with her post-hospital and feed her medicine and liquids until she could manage on her own. Beca only allowed him two days before sending him back to work, saying she wasn't going to be responsible for him losing his job, but in reality he knew how awkward she felt being looked after. She hated 'being a burden' as she put it and he knew that if he tried to argue with her he'd lose, whether Beca was drugged-up or not.

Now, however, Beca was in the latter stages of her illness and becoming increasingly frustrated with being stuck at home, feeling weak and poorly still, but also bored. She wanted so desperately to get back to work, but she'd been signed off by the hospital doctor for a minimum of three weeks, to run to a full month if she was still ill. There was no way she could cope with a month, she'd just glared at the document in anguish when Jerry gave it to her and hoarsely protested that she didn't need to be at home for that long. But, coming to the end of her second week, she recognised that one more probably couldn't hurt as she still hadn't regained her voice and just dragging herself to the bathroom exhausted her.

She huffed in frustration at herself, bundled up in her best winter pyjamas and her thickest covers to fight against the chill she still felt. Mostly she was annoyed because she'd missed the start of the re-recording project. After having it on her books for two months, she succumbed to illness the day recording was due to begin. It had ended up delayed while Jerry was out of the office looking after her, but she gave him the go-ahead to record for her while she was off, as long as he brought the rough edits back to her after each session, allowed her to tinker, and took her notes back to the artist the next day. Which, to be fair to him, he'd stuck to faithfully and it made her feel better that the whole thing hadn't been completely derailed; especially with the company paying to bring the artist back and put her up while they recorded (a good will gesture on their part, due to the first edits being unusable).

The edits were getting better, but that song that had bothered her still wasn't right. She'd tried, while laid up, to get her thoughts across but it was proving harder than the others and seemed to be a track that would have to wait until she could get back to the studio. It wasn't a huge issue, as everything else was coming together, but it just made her itch for recovery that little bit more.

Jerry hadn't told her much about the artist, other than to express how pleasant she was to work with – a change to the divas they usually had to cater for. Beca still had a burning curiosity about the woman – she hadn't managed to find out anything about her online to settle her pique. No social media profiles came up when she searched the name and nothing on Wikipedia as far as she could see either. The woman had no trail at all, and Beca rather thought she may be turning into a creepy stalker with how hard she'd tried to find out even the tiniest hint or fact. And she was trying incredibly hard not to let it turn into an obsession…

A knock sounded at her front door and then she heard a key in the lock.

"Hello dear, sick and feeble woman. I come bearing many gifts with which to soothe you!" Jerry's voice called through her apartment and Beca rolled her eyes at his silly humour. He appeared in the doorway to her room and she threw a pillow at him, which missed spectacularly. He looked down at it, unimpressed.

"Is that the best you can do?" he demanded.

"Don't be such an ass, take pity on me."

"Why, so you can take advantage when I'm least expecting it and take me out with all of your soft furnishings?"

"Of course." Retorted Beca, shuffling up in her bed so that she was resting against her nest of pillows. She patted the space next to her on the bed. "But before I give you the fiery death of a thousand pillows, Imma need those edits from today. And I believe ice cream was promised." Jerry grinned and flopped onto the bed, producing a memory stick, a spoon and a tub of mint choc chip. Beca groaned appreciatively at the choice of flavour and grabbed the ice cream first, cracking it open and shoving in three mouthfuls before Jerry had even kicked his shoes off. He laughed as he caught her cramming in the treat. She at least had the grace to look slightly ashamed of herself.

"Dude, its fine you can eat as much of that as you want and as disgustingly as possible. It's kinda good to see you more like your old self at last!" He chuckled. Beca waved her spoon at him warningly.

"You're damn right I'll be disgusting. That's my best quality right there."

Jerry laughed again and picked up Beca's laptop from the bedside cabinet closest to him, booted it up and popped in his flash drive. As they waited for everything to load, Beca started to quiz him about the day in the studio.

"So...is it going okay so far?"

"Beca!" he laughed "You ask me that every single time! What honestly is going to happen from one day to the next? It's not like the studio's going to burn down if you're not there you know."

"Pfft with you running the project right now, I can't count that out as a possibility." She stuck her tongue out at him and he sighed.

"Yeah yeah I get it, you don't trust me."

He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye as he said it, and added a sniffle for extra effect.

"Mmhm, it's better you know it now man and get over it. Put on your big girl panties and let the boss tell you how to get shit done right."

He raised his eyebrows at her and whistled softly. "Whoa there sassy, remember who supplies your ice cream!" She cocked her head and gave him a typically 'Beca' look, her arms folded across her chest. He shrugged and smiled at her. "Honestly Bec, its fine. It's all going very smoothly. Sabine is so lovely to work with, wouldn't say boo to a goose but she knows her music all right. She's good...unbelievable really..." Jerry's eyes went a little glassy and Beca rolled her own towards the ceiling.

"Jeremy Jones, you are drooling."

He snapped out of his brief reverie and looked at her a little guiltily. "No I'm not!" He quickly defended. Beca raised a very sarcastic eyebrow at him and dipped her chin towards her chest.

"Oh, so that little decade that passed just then where you forgot how to function as a human being...that wasn't you fantasising about our client at all?"

"Absolutely not, that would be highly unprofessional." Sniffed Jerry. "All I'm saying is, she's got a lot going for her." He glanced slyly at Beca then. "You know...I kinda wonder if you might be more up her alley. If you know what I mean…?"

Beca frowned at him. "And how would you know that exactly?"

"She's been asking about you."

"...Why?"

"Gee I dunno Bec, maybe because you're her lead producer and she's not actually met you yet, but you keep bossing her around and changing her album? Ring any bells there for you?" Beca rolled her eyes again and shoved him. "Plus, I told her you're totally a babe."

"...You did what?!" Beca shrieked at him, after a shocked pause. He just grinned at her again.

"You can thank me in your wedding speech." Anything else he might have said was cut off by the pillow that thumped into his face, courtesy of Beca and her fury.

"You're a total, total ass you know that don't you?" She demanded angrily. She snatched the laptop from his knees and began to flip through the files from that day, settling some headphones over her ears to listen to what progress had been made. Jerry sat quietly and awaited her verdict.

After a solid twenty minutes of listening, repeating and making notes in her 'Book of Doom' (as Jerry put it), she closed the lid on her laptop and turned to him, all business again.

"Okay, I've got more-"

"-Notes." Finished Jerry wryly. "I noticed. Anything specific, or urgent?"

Beca was frowning slightly. "I dunno, these ones are a bit harder. Umm..." She went silent for a moment as she tried to focus on logistics. She groaned and rubbed her eyes hard with balled up fists. "Ugh I really need to be in the office for this, it's getting really complicated." Jerry looked at her tired eyes and pale face, thinner than he'd seen her before. He sobered,

"Bec, you're not ready. You can't go into the office like this yet, you'll just make yourself sick again, or worse infect the rest of us." He wrinkled his nose, dissipating his seriousness briefly. "And I don't really want your sissy girl germs if you don't mind." This made Beca grin lopsidedly for a second, before she closed her eyes and leaned back.

"But I really need to speak to this Sabine myself, to try and get everything across the way I mean it and it'd be faster than relaying messages through you and my notebook once a day..." she was whining a little, turning puppy dog eyes on Jerry.

"Oh Bec, not the puppy face, you know I can't fight that!" He cringed. She leaned closer, widening her eyes and sticking out her bottom lip a little as she sensed him weakening. He groaned and shoved his hand in her face to try and make it stop. She gave a very indignant curse at this and clawed his hand away, ready to fight him if she had to. But as she sat back up from the assault she saw he had his phone out. "I think this will help you." He said, then her phone 'pinged' beside her. She glanced down to see that he'd shared a contact with her. She looked at him quizzically.

"What-?"

"Sabine's contact info. I grabbed it from her business card just in case we needed to get a hold of her...and guess what, now you do." He winked at her. "You're welcome."

"Would...do you think that would be weird?"

Jerry shrugged. "Nah I don't think so. She handed out her business cards, she intended for her contact details to be used. And this way you can cut out the middle man...me." He grabbed her spoon and had a few cheeky mouthfuls of her ice cream while she was distracted. She nodded slowly. He waved the spoon in her direction. "Just try and keep me in the loop though, yeah?"

"Obviously." She rolled her eyes. "Okay...I'll give it a go. But you're still going to bring me ice cream aren't you?" She pouted at him. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Of course Becs, I enjoy my genitals attached to my body." That at least elicited a giggle from her, before she pretended to gag and punched his shoulder.

"Ew as if I'd touch those, gross!"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence boss." He deadpanned at her. He handed her the spoon and ice cream back, then reclaimed his flash drive and heaved himself off of the bed. "Right, time for me to bounce kiddo." He saluted in her general direction, which she acknowledged. He took a last look at her, still concerned for the frail figure in the bed. "Sure you're getting on okay on your own? Do you want me to call anyone for you?"

"Yes, mom, I'm fine. Trust me!" He still looked unconvinced.

"Definitely? I could always call your friend Chloe-"

"Don't you dare!" She suddenly exclaimed, startling him. "Sorry." She placated, holding her hands up, "it's just that...well I wouldn't hear the end of it from her. I...kinda didn't tell her I was sick in the first place..." Jerry's eyebrows shot towards his hairline.

"Dangerous move boss lady."

"Not as dangerous as if you go running to her telling her I was anywhere near a hospital." She threatened. "You do that and I'll end you before she manages to bury me. Remember that." She pointed a very warning finger at him and death-stared him into submission.

"Fine, fine. Just promise you'll call me if you need anything, yes?" Beca glared at him mutinously. "YES?" he repeated, forcefully. She huffed and began to sulk.

"Yeah fine. Now get out and leave me and my ice cream to our date night."

He laughed at that. "Sure. Enjoy Bec, I'll see you soon. Night!"

"See you later Jer." She heard him make his way through the apartment, put some fresh food and water out for Mr B, change the litter in his tray and then eventually close and lock the door behind him.

She stretched slowly, easing out muscles that were stiff from her being bed-bound for so long and racked with fevers and shivers. As she rolled her shoulders, she decided it was time for a bath. A long, hot soak would keep her warm and ease those troublesome muscles a little. It felt like ages since she'd been able to wash properly, as even standing under the shower was more than she could manage. Suddenly she felt absolutely disgusting and she fought her way out from under her covers to make her way shakily to her en-suite. She sat on the edge of the bath and started to run water into the tub before digging through her considerable collection of bath bombs. When it came to bath bombs she was something of a collector it turned out, and she had plenty to choose from for any occasion. After rummaging among a few different scents, sizes and shapes, she settled on her favourite – a Lush intergalactic. She was finally feeling well enough to be frivolous, that fact alone cheering her. She threw the bath bomb into the hot water and watched it fizz for a minute before she rose from her perch and started to strip in preparation for her desperately-needed soak. As she peeled off her flannel plaid pyjamas she caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror, her arms like toothpicks and ribs forming deep ridges all down her side and back. She winced, noting sunken cheeks and hollow eyes, limp dirty hair and cracked lips.

"Jesus I look like a corpse that's seen better days." She muttered to herself, scowling. She turned away from the disappointing reflection and waited for the bath to finish filling.

The first steps into the hot, deeply scented water were absolute bliss and as she sank down into the tub she moaned deeply in total appreciation. She closed her eyes for a second and allowed the heat to wash over her, cleansing her skin and washing away the aches and sweat of the past days. She reached out of the tub to grab her phone and turn on a playlist while she soaked – listening to anything other than the studio recordings had been beyond her recently as well and it was incredibly refreshing to have her old favourites on again. She was feeling more and more revived as the minutes ticked by, she was glad she'd decided to do this, musing that perhaps this was the start of her getting back to herself before returning to work. She didn't want to be wandering back in next week looking and smelling like something from Tales From the Crypt after all, she mused.

As the music wound around her, she pondered on her notes for the studio album. She really should get in touch with Sabine. She wasn't entirely sure what was stopping her, but she had a feeling it had something to do with the voice that had been haunting her fever-addled dreams. Hell, even before she had caught the damn flu she'd had that voice following her around day and night. It had gone beyond the feeling of familiarity and now she felt as though those deep, rich tones had become a part of her somewhere. Every time she listened she could feel a tug inside, which she acknowledged was fully crazy but she was willing to put it down to both the intensity with which she listened to every single track and the strength of the meds she'd been on the past two weeks.

Definitely the meds, she nodded to herself.

This was not getting her any closer to actually communicating with Sabine however, and she sighed heavily to herself and grabbed her phone to compose a message. She saved the contact that Jerry has sent over then opened a new message window. The blank white screen glared at her in a mocking fashion, seeming to taunt her for her complete lack of social skills. How she'd managed to creep ever closer to thirty without actually gaining any social awareness or the ability to communicate nonchalantly like most competent adults was beyond her...but to be fair, she reasoned, you just needed to be bossy to be a music producer. No one expects you to actually be their friend, that's not your job really. Her college internship had certainly taught her that. She rolled her eyes, readjusted herself in the bath and tapped on her screen.

Beca: Hey Sabine, it's Beca. I hope you don't mind me getting in touch, only I've got a few notes on the latest recordings that I need to relay live rather than through Jerry or a notebook. Finding it hard to make sense of myself I'm afraid, are you happy to message about the tracks?

Beca read it through a few times to make sure it was okay – casual enough to invite the chat to happen but not overly casual, enough professional in it to sound like a functioning grown-up who was competent at her job…

Once she was happy enough with it she tapped the send icon and set her phone down again, to lose herself in her bath and music. As she was drifting on her own personal Sea of Tranquillity, however, a soft chime interrupted her playlist and she glanced over at her phone. Then she looked again, closer. Sabine had answered already, and for some reason this had Beca in nervous flutters. She frowned at herself and grabbed her phone again to open the artist's reply.

Sabine: Good evening Ms Mitchell, thanks for getting in touch. That would be great to be able to chat with you directly if you're feeling up to it? Your friend Jerry told me how ill you've been, I don't want him to think I'm making you worse or forcing you to work when you should rest?

Beca nearly sniggered at the use of "Ms Mitchell", and instantly hoped she would never hear it again. She quickly replied.

Beca: Please, just Beca if you don't mind, it's what I always work under. I'll know you mean me at least! And never mind Jerry, he's being a drama queen. I'm fine to get some work done don't worry.

Sabine: Weren't you in hospital? That sounds serious to me…

Beca shook her head impatiently – trust Jerry to go around telling anyone and everyone about the hospital incident. Typical.

Beca: Precautions. It's fine really! If you bear with me I'd like to send you a copy of my notes from today?

Sabine: I would appreciate that very much, thank you.

Some time later, after Beca had refilled her bath with hot water twice, she had relayed most of her ideas to Sabine and they had been having a pleasant, informal chat via messages too. Beca could see what Jerry meant about the woman, even through text format. She was came across as soft and gentle, wiser than a forest owl and humorous too. There was a quirky sense of fun in her messages which Beca could appreciate, being on the more unusual side of the scale herself. She had touched on the Trouble Track (she'd dubbed it) with Sabine, who had pushed to leave it until they were in the studio. She said it would be more effective being able to tweak it in person as she played. Beca agreed wholeheartedly.

Beca: It's a beautiful song though, don't get me wrong. It's my favourite on the album, I love how you work the melody and chords and how you build it so intensely. It's very powerful you know? But not, like love-ballad overbearing if that makes sense?

Sabine: It does. Thank you. I am glad it had that effect on you.

Beca: Really? Because part of that effect is it haunting my dreams!

Beca meant the comment to be light hearted, she expected a joke in return from Sabine. She hoped it didn't sound too fan-girly either.

Sabine: As it does mine. It...means a lot to me.

Beca: I hope I haven't seemed insulting about it?

Sabine: Not at all. I'm pleased you are paying it so much attention to make sure it is right. Nothing has been taken away from it, and it is good to have another's expert perspective on it. It means what it does to me, and whatever else to others. So long as you can make it accessible – is that the right expression? - to more listeners then I am satisfied. I would very much like it to be listened to by many.

Beca could tell she had so much more invested in that one track than the others. Which was unusual as most of the artists they had coming through the studios wrote about love or relationships or whatever from a very two-dimensional perspective, then demanded it get cranked out so they could see the money start to hit their pockets. Sabine was different in general about her album, but most particularly this one song. It must have a pretty special story behind it, she mused.

Beca: Wow, you almost make that one sound like your baby!

There was a pause in the messages then and when Beca watched she could see the little 'typing' icon of the dots doing their Mexican Wave that indicated Sabine was replying. They kept stopping as though she was breaking off, or putting her phone down. Beca waited, expecting a long reply or perhaps a backstory.

Sabine: That is a worthy legacy I suppose.

Beca frowned at the short answer. It came across with a very odd tone, but that could just be her as she was exhausted now and way past medication time. She decided to call it a night.

Beca: Okay well I should really hit the hay now. I've been sitting in this bath for two hours while we sorted these notes out and I'm starting to look like a Beca-raisin. Plus, meds to take or Jerry will definitely be after one of us!

It was only after she'd hit send that she wondered what in the hell had possessed her to mention being in the bath. She quickly added another text.

Beca: Not that you needed the mental image of the bath scenario. Err...my bad sorry!

Definitely not professional Beca, really good going there.

Sabine: Without meeting you first, I don't know what that image may be...but I can assure you I have quite a good imagination at least so perhaps that will do for now :P

Beca flushed bright pink straight away at that.

Beca: You don't want to imagine that, trust me! It'll give you nightmares.

Sabine: I doubt that very much, but we'll just have to see once you are back in the studio I suppose, won't we?

Beca paused. Was that...almost flirty? She read it a few times to try and make sense of it. Did she mind if it was flirty? Hmm...she concluded that she probably didn't, at all. She hadn't met Sabine in person still, but getting to know her a little through her messages had shown her someone she could be incredibly interested in.

Hell, she'd been hooked by her voice alone, why lie? If the woman was flirting, well then…let the games begin quite frankly, she thought to herself with a little grin.

Beca: Hmm I suppose we will :P just promise not to scream too loud in disgust.

With no idea where it suddenly came from, a sound popped into Beca's mind. That husky, rich voice moaning in desire, gasping and rising in pitch, rougher than her songs and full of unbridled passion…

Goosepimples erupted over Beca's skin and she couldn't help the shudder of pleasure that rippled through her as she imagined how the other woman may sound screaming her name in orgasm. And immediately afterwards she chastised herself severely for getting so carried away with thoughts of a client of all people! She tutted and shook her head to try and dispel the lewd daydreams that were lingering, blushing and angry at herself.

Sabine: I'm sure you are being mean to yourself. But I shall wish you good night anyway, and I hope you feel better in the morning.

Beca: Thank you..me too honestly. And you, sleep well. Thank you for chatting.

Sabine: Not at all, I've enjoyed it.

Beca: Me too :) x

"A kiss Beca, really?" She demanded of herself and rose from the bath in disgust. "Get a grip woman." She huffed as she pulled the plug and climbed out to wrap herself in her fluffiest towel. She was sure that by tomorrow she'd be mortified by half of the conversation she'd sent to Sabine, but that was a problem for 'Tomorrow Beca'. 'Tonight Beca' was ready to cram some medicine and crawl into her cosy pit to sleep off some more of her flu. She had to admit she was feeling considerably better after the bath and doing at least a little something productive with her evening before she descended into text flirting. Shaking her head again at herself, she got settled into bed in a fresh set of pyjamas and turned out her lights. As Mr B appeared and hopped up onto the bed to snuggle with her, she brought up Sabine's music again and set it to play to get herself to sleep whilst vowing that it was absolutely the last time she'd do it.

Well...one little lie, eh?