Read and review, please!

Trigger warning: self harm. Not as much as the last chapter.

"Beca! What are doing out there? Is this a Christmas surprise? Come in!" The door buzzed open, and Beca hurried inside, glad to get out of the cold. She took the stairs, but hesitated before knocking on Chloe's door. Was it too late to back out? Well, now it was, because the door swung open to reveal a sleepy but happy ginger, arms outstretched. Beca took a step backward, not wanting to get Chloe wet too. Chloe's face fell, and then she realized why Beca was being distant.

"You're sopping wet!" she cried, alarmed. "Get in here, now! I'm grabbing you a towel and some dry clothes. Strip off that wet stuff." She pulled Beca by the hand into the apartment and shut the door, before disappearing into another room in search of dry clothes. She exited a few moments later, to find that all Beca had done was taken off her boots, jacket, and scarf, and stood holding them as if she didn't know what to do with them. "Here, I'll take those and put them over the radiator in the bathroom," she said, impatiently, reaching for the wet stuff.

"Why don't I, and then I can change in there and drip all over the tile instead? You can bring the dry stuff, and that way you and that change of clothes will both stay dry."

"Alright," Chloe said, agreeing to Beca's logic. Beca tried her best to keep from dripping at much as possible on the floor, but she could only do so much, being wetter than a half-drowned kitten and shivering like a leaf.

"I'm sorry, I'll wipe that up," she told Chloe, weakly.

"Don't be silly, just get warm before you die of exposure!" she said, ushering Beca into the bathroom and depositing towel and clothing on the counter of the sink. "Really, how'd you get so soaked? Didn't you realize it was raining before you left? Why not bring an umbrella if you were going out?" She stood talking at the doorway of the bathroom, as Beca carefully arranged jacket and scarf on the radiator.

"It wasn't exactly planned," Beca said, waiting for Chloe to leave so she could finished changing.

"Okay...wait, why are you still wearing wet clothes? Do you want to freeze to death?"

"Chloe..." Beca said, trying to clue her in.

"What?"

"Why don't you let me change and then we can talk?"

"What's wrong with doing both at the same time?"

"Well...I'm not as confident as you about all this," she said, sweeping her hand over her body and paraphrasing something Chloe had told her over a year before.

"What, you should be! Besides, it's not like I haven't seen it all before," she answered with a wink that told Beca she was remembering the same incident.

"Please, Chloe?"

"Fine. I'll go make you some hot chocolate, to warm you up." Chloe shut the door in a huff. Beca baffled her sometimes.

In turn, Beca sighed with relief, and quickly stripped, using the towel Chloe gave her to dry her skin before wrapping it around her head. She pulled on the flannel pajamas, far too big for her, but she made them fit by rolling up the waistband. At least it was pants and long sleeves. She put tired feet into fluffy socks, and borrowed the hairdryer that was in there to try to get some of the moisture out of her hair. She exited the bathroom after cleaning up, looking like a mess, but at least she was dry and on her way to getting warm. Chloe met her in the living room, where she pressed a cup into Beca's hands and wrapped a fluffy blanket around her shoulders.

"I should clean up the mess I made," Beca protested.

"I already did, now sit down and be warm," Chloe insisted. "I must say, I love the Christmas surprise, but I thought you were at some party with your dad. What happened?"

"It was Sheila's family's party, and it didn't go so well." Chloe sighed. Sometimes talking to Beca was like talking to a brick wall.

"What do you mean by that?" she prompted.

"Well, you know how Dad and the step-monster are about my career choices," Beca started, and Chloe nodded encouragingly. "Well, she's a chip off a much larger block."

"So, you decided to come here and spend Christmas with me?"

"It wasn't a plan exactly, I just sorta found myself here. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come. You don't deserve to have to deal with this shit on Christmas." Beca refused to meet Chloe's eyes, so when she felt arms being wrapped around her, it took her a little by surprise.

Chloe hugged her a while before saying, "Beca, I love the thought of spending Christmas with you. Don't ever hesitate coming over, on this day or any other."

They sat like that for a while, before Chloe broke the silence, "I certainly was surprised to hear the bell. I figure you would have texted or something. And you never responded to my last text."

"Sorry, my dad was upset I was texting at the party rather than socializing so he took my phone. He still has it."

"He didn't even give it back to you after you got home? Why not?"

"Umm..."

"Umm what, Beca? What aren't you telling me?"

"I didn't exactly come home with him."

"Okay...why not?"

"I sorta left the party early. I doubt he's even home yet, they were going to Midnight Mass at Sheila's church with her family."

"Then how did you get back? A taxi?"

"Umm...sure..."

"Sure? That's not an answer."

"Well, I sorta kinda forgot my purse, too, so I just walked."

"Walked? From where? In this weather?"

"It wasn't raining when I left. Sheila's aunt lives in Barden."

"Where in Barden?"

"I dunno exactly, but I passed by that park we went skating at."

Chloe's eyes grew wide. "That's quite a distance, Beca. How long did I take?"

"I dunno exactly, I stopped in the park for a while to think."

"Okay, well, when did you leave the party?"

"A little after dinner."

"What time?"

"Umm, maybe a little after eight or so?"

"Eight? Becs, it's one in the morning? Where have you been the last five hours? The park may be a couple miles but it doesn't take five hours to walk from there unless you're a turtle."

"Are you calling me a turtle, Beale? I put in my cardio hours..." Beca asked, trying to change the subject.

Her subterfuge did not go unnoticed. "Don't try to change the subject, Beca."

"I told you. I walked from the house. I stopped at the park."

"What aren't you telling me Beca?" She put a finger under Beca's chin, lifting it so their eyes could meet. "Tell me, Beca," she said softly. "Whatever it is, just tell me. It's okay."

Her reaction took Chloe by surprise. Beca tore away from her, in an almost fearful state, backing off the couch and across the room until she hit a corner of the wall, where she collapsed, wrapping arms around knees and the blanket tight around herself like a protective cocoon. Chloe was immediately alarmed, and slowly went to her, sinking on the ground in front of Beca, who was rocking back and forth. She kept every movement slow and careful, as if Beca was a frightened animal she was trying to coax to her.

"Becs," she said calmly, "won't you tell me what's wrong?" Beca shook her head. "Why not?" A long wait and then a low mumble. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear that, you'll have to be a little louder."

A whisper. "You'll hate me."

Chloe's heart broke at her confession. "I won't hate you."

"You will. Everyone hates me once they know. I just couldn't bear it if you hated me too. Especially you."

The especially caught Chloe's attention, but she needed to deal with the problem at hand, and filed it away for the future. "That's not true, and I'm not everyone. It's me, Beca. Chloe. I could never hate you."

"You will."

Chloe decided to try a different tactic. "Who hates you, Beca?"

A sniff. "My dad. Sheila. Sheila's family."

"And does this stem from something that happened at the Christmas party?"

"Yes. Sorta." Beca lifted her head from her knees, and started looking frantically around her.

"What are you searching for, Becs?" Chloe asked.

"Something."

"What something?"

"Something to relieve the pain."

"Are you injured? Do you need medical care? Medication?" Chloe grew increasingly alarmed. Beca hadn't seemed injured; did she miss something?

"Not that kind of pain."

"What kind of pain, then?"

She was quiet, and it seemed like ages before she answered quietly, dropping her head back to her knees. "The kind that's in your mind."

"What normally makes you feel better? Can I do something?" Beca shook her head. Her muscles were all clenched, and Chloe could see her digging her fingernails into her upper arms. Watching that sight, Chloe, being Chloe, couldn't just sit around and do nothing, so she slid in closer to Beca, moving slowly and carefully as to not alarm the girl. "I'm going to hold you, alright?" She took her silence for consent, and slowly arranged the smaller girl on her lap, wrapping her arms around her from behind in the most non-threatening way possible. "Shh, Beca," she said, as if comforting a small child. "It's okay. I have you." And Beca began weeping. So Chloe just continued to sit there, holding the girl in her arms and rocking them slowly back and forth.

Finally, a small, sniffling voice broke the silence. "You promise you won't hate me?" She sounded so childlike, so lost, that Chloe's heart broke again for her that night. What could have happened? She feared something terrible.

"I promise," she said, squeezing Beca's shoulders a little tightly in another hug without breaking the embrace. Beca wiggled around in her grasp slightly, loosening it, and freed up one arm from the blanket and Chloe. Chloe's pajama top was so long on her, the sleeves reached her fingertips, and she started pulling them back ever so slowly. The bruise on her wrist appeared first, and Chloe gasped a little and touched it gently.

"Beca, that looks like a hand. Who did that to you?" But Beca merely shook her head and kept inching her sleeve up. She feared if she stopped, she'd never start again, and Chloe would never leave her alone about it. She stopped about an inch after the scarring started. These at the end were somewhat older scars, not the really old ones but ones whose scabs had fallen off a while ago and looked like slightly darker lines on her skin. Chloe's eyes had followed the slow journey of her sleeve, and when she saw the lines, she knew immediately what they were. And her heart broke in her chest for the third time that night.

She touched the area gently. "This is how you relieve the pain?" she asked. Beca nodded. "And your father found out at the party?" She nodded again. "Will you tell me about it? I want to understand; I want to help."

"Do you hate me?"

"Beca, sweetie, this doesn't make me hate you. I told you, I could never hate you. All I want, all I ever wanted, was for you to let me in." Well, that and the issue of her small crush on her short friend...but now was not the time for that.

Beca sniffed, and began to tell the story of the night after dinner. "I was washing dishes with Sheila's cousin. She said I was doing it all wrong, that her nine year old could wash dishes better than me, and that I was getting my sleeves sopping wet. She pulled them up herself before I could stop her, and she saw. She screeched and dragged me into the living room where my dad and Sheila and everybody was, telling them – Oh, Chloe, it was terrible – and then the things my dad said..." she trailed off. "I just couldn't stay there any more." She clung to Chloe even tighter, and Chloe hugged her back, silently seething at how they had handled it. That was just not done in her book, in really any reasonable person's book. No wonder Beca was so traumatized by the incident.

"That was horrible of them to treat you that way," she said, finally. "Beca, you deserve love and support, not censure and public humiliation."

"I don't."

"Don't what?"

"Deserve love and support."

"Did they tell you that?"

"In so many words."

"They're wrong, Beca. So wrong. I can't begin to tell you how wrong they are and you mustn't believe that for a moment. Everyone deserves love and support, and maybe if you had gotten some, this wouldn't be happening."

"My mom says she loves me."

"I'm glad of that." A pause. "Does she know?"

Beca started. "No! And she mustn't!"

"Calm down, sweetie. She won't hear it from me, if that's what you want. But some of these look pretty old," she said, gesturing at where Beca's sleeves had ridden up further. "And some look very new," she added, seeing a bright red, recently scabbed one. Beca pulled her sleeve down self-consciously. "You don't have to hide from me," Chloe said, hugging her again. "Is this why you wouldn't change in front of me?"

"Yes," she admitted, shamefaced.

"You never have to feel like you have to hide from me, okay?" Beca didn't say anything. "Can I see? I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I do want to make sure you're alright and don't need medical attention."

"I don't."

"I'd rather see for myself, if that's alright." Finally, Beca extracted herself from blankets and Chloe, and undid the buttons of the pajama top. She pulled it off, revealing the tank top Chloe had given her and her arms.

Chloe ran gentle fingers over the scars, taking great care over the new ones (she counted seven). "These look okay, I guess, not too bad."

Beca shrugged the top back on. "I'm careful," she said. "Always have been. Kept the school counselor off my back because of that."

"You spoke with a counselor about this?" Chloe asked, secretly relieved that she had gotten some help.

"I was going through a rough spot, at school and at home. We met a few times, I kept her from telling my mother by promising to be careful and work on getting better. I did stop for a while." She said it almost bluntly, and Chloe could sense that she felt more comfortable talking about it in the past than the present. She also wanted to know what was going on at school and home and why Beca was so adamant about her mother never finding out, but decided perhaps that it was a conversation for a different time.

"How could I not have noticed during our shower duet?"

"There weren't any new ones, and I'm pretty pale. The old ones are white, so they blend in with my skin. Hard to see under good light."

"When did you relapse?"

This was not a question Beca was comfortable answering, not even a little bit. "A little while ago."

"Beca." Chloe said, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice. Another wall. "It's alright. Let me in."

"It comes and goes in waves," she said, finally. "Sometimes I do it, sometimes I don't. I started a little last year, not that much over the summer and the beginning of the fall, and then I started again. It's nothing really, nothing important."

"Yes, it is important, Beca, because you're important. When last year?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"Because I want to understand so I can help you."

"Why do you care?"

"Because I do care, Beca. I care about you a lot."

"I don't understand."

"You're a wonderful person, Beca, an amazing, wonderful person just the way you are. That's why."

"That was the pool song."

"Yep."

"You sang that well that day."

"I sang it to you."

"To me?"

"Look at all you did. You allowed Aubrey to let go and take some of the pressure off. You prepared that amazing mix. You led us to victory at the ICCAs. But what I remember most, is you walking into that rehearsal room and turning the chaotic mess we made into a cohesive group. And that was simply the most amazing thing I ever saw."

Beca blushed. "You're going to hate me more than ever now if I tell you when it started again."

"No, I won't."

"It was, after Regionals. After I messed up."

Chloe's face fell. If only she had stood up for Beca then. If only she had known. "I'm sorry, Beca, really. I should have done something for you then."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not."

"I stopped again, after the pool."

"That's good."

"I liked being part of the Bellas more than I ever thought I could, so the loss hit me harder than I thought it might, if that makes sense."

"It does."

"And then..."

"Between my dad giving me grief about my career choices, having to leave my mom, Jesse, and then just other stuff...it just all become too much to handle, so..."

"Jesse, hunh? Never much liked that kid. What happened between you two? You never told me."

"I told you we grew apart."

"That's not an answer, Beca, and you know it."

"I thought there was something there. He certainly was crushing on me, so I thought I'd give it a go. I soon realized I was wrong, but then I didn't know what to do. I thought maybe my expectations were just too high, from all those romcoms he forced me to watch, and that's why it wasn't all fireworks and butterflies, but still, I felt nothing. So I eventually broke up with him, and he had some choice things to say." She shrugged, trying to pass it off like it didn't matter, but Chloe wasn't fooled.

"What choice things did he say?"

"Oh, he was just hurt and angry. It didn't mean anything."

"What did he say, Beca?"

"You know, that I'm a frigid bitch, incapable of letting anyone in or being loved. That kind of thing."

"And do you believe him?"

"Umm...I mean, there's some truth to that certainly. I did kinda string him along, pretending to feel something I didn't."

"Yes, but a mature person would realize that sometimes our hearts don't lead us in the direction we or they want and accept that."

"Yeah, well, we're in college. But you're right, of course."

"Of course I'm right. I know a thing or two about the heart. And I want you to know that you're not a frigid bitch, you're not incapable of being loved, and you can let people in. What do you think you're doing right now?"

"True, I guess."

"Why do you think you didn't care for him like you thought you ought to?"

"Well, umm, you see, uhh..."

"Was there someone else?" Beca widened her eyes. How had Chloe guessed that? "There was someone else!" She crowed. "Tell me who!" To give Chloe credit, she was trying to lighten the mood. She didn't expect Beca's face to fall so quickly.

"What is it, Beca? It was someone else, wasn't it?"

"Not someone I was supposed to want."

"Oh?"

"Not interested in me in the least."

"I doubt that. Who could resist you?"

"Completely out of my league, besides."

"Now, that's impossible."

"Not someone I could have."

"Who, Beca?"

And then, so quietly Chloe could scarce hear her, Beca said one word. "You."