- Part 1 -


Arrhythmia


I don't want to be a soldier
Who the captain of some sinking ship would stow,
Far below.
So, if you love me, why'd you let me go?
-Coldplay


Two ancient trees frame the end of the inn's driveway - massive fluffy pines that have been interwoven and trimmed into a graceful archway. Aubrey exhales and approaches them. Chloe is dead-weight on her back and it's taking a toll on the muscles near her shoulders. She's given up on trying to adjust Chloe into different positions as she always ends up moving back into the same one - one arm draped over Aubrey's shoulder, her other hand entangled in Aubrey's hair, and her face buried against Aubrey's neck. The end of the flashlight digs into Aubrey's side and is two seconds away from falling; she tightens her arm against it and cringes as it rolls against her ribs. If she drops anything, it's going to be Chloe - the one thing that doesn't actually need to be carried. (Okay, so she definitely would not just drop Chloe on the ground, but that is beside the point.) Chloe sniffles quietly and twists Aubrey's hair around her fingers.

Aubrey stops by one of the trees and cranes her neck in an attempt to look at Chloe's face. "Chloe, you're pulling my hair," she snaps. She groans and gives her a slight bump upward. "Chloe - " There is a noise off to the side and Aubrey stops trying to admonish her for a moment. Shivers trace down her spine, a chill that isn't really from the cold. She glances around for the source then follows the low drone of a man's voice closer to the pine tree, peering around the side of it. Dr. Mitchell stands beside the inn, a cell phone pressed against his ear. Aubrey stares at him, needing a moment to grasp the lack of threat, then turns in the direction of her room. She needs to put Chloe down before her arms fall off from holding her.

"Beca is not gay," Dr. Mitchell growls. It doesn't sound like an argument with the person on the other end of the phone - just a general (albeit forceful) statement. "That is not going to happen."

Aubrey turns to face him again, staying hidden from his view by the tree. She shouldn't be eavesdropping. And it's not as though she cares about whatever is going on with Beca or with Beca's father. The Mitchells are not her problem. Still, her feet stay rooted to the ground and she glances at Dr. Mitchell again.

"I want those girls kept away from my daughter," Dr. Mitchell continues and takes a step away from the inn's wall. "Particularly the redhead. My daughter is marrying Jesse Swanson and that is the end of it."

Chloe is slipping and Aubrey tries to hoist her back up.

"I want those two girls off this island," Dr. Mitchell barks. He pauses for a moment. "Good."

Chloe shifts and her leg knocks the flashlight out from under Aubrey's arm. Aubrey instinctively spins to catch it, but can only watch it fall, both of her hands busy keeping Chloe from falling with it. The light clatters on the ground, the back falling off and the batteries rolling across the gravel. The porch light from the inn keeps the area illuminated. Aubrey looks back around the tree and holds her breath.

Dr. Mitchell looks up and closes his phone. He stuffs it in his pocket and walks toward the tree.

Aubrey stands up straight and squares her shoulders, ignoring the tension in her muscles where Chloe is leaning on her the most. She clenches her jaw and holds her breath, her arms instinctively tightening around Chloe's legs. As the soles of Dr. Mitchell's shoes slap across the pavement, she can't help but be grateful that Beca's father is nowhere near as intimidating as her own. Still, she shields Chloe between herself and the thick pine behind them. The needles prick her arms and surround her with their prominent scent - sharp, grounding sensations. She tries to brush the branches away from Chloe's legs to prevent them from scratching her.

Dr. Mitchell rounds the archway and bends down to pick up the flashlight, not glancing up at Aubrey. He slides the batteries back in then snaps the back into place as he straightens back up. The light turns back on and he points the beam behind him, the other end level with Aubrey's face. "Stay away from my daughter," he warns and looks her directly in the eye. Aubrey stares back at him unflinchingly, despite the weak feeling in her knees. He lowers the flashlight, pointing the lit end at the ground, and walks back in the direction he came from.

It hadn't been her choice to attend Beca's wedding for an ill-advised marriage that probably isn't even going to last. Aubrey holds her dauntless posture and stares at the back of his head as he walks away. She bites her tongue to refrain from reminding him that Beca is an adult and is capable of choosing who she does and doesn't want to be around on her own. It would be pointless. Aubrey is not even someone that Beca wants to associate with. Chloe, on the other hand, well, that matter is just too complicated. She steps away from the tree and readjusts Chloe. Dr. Mitchell has no place involving himself in the delicate matter that is Chloe and Beca.

Aubrey continues up the driveway in the opposite direction of Dr. Mitchell, rounding the inn toward her room. Beca should have left her things by the door by now. She's just going to need to figure out how to dig their room key out of her pocket without dumping Chloe on the ground. She attempts to reach her fingers into her pocket while glancing around near her feet for her beach bag. It's nowhere to be seen. The only reliable trait that Beca has is that she's completely unreliable. A low groan of frustration rumbles in Aubrey's throat. She tries to slide the key out of her pocket with her ring finger. It moves about a centimeter then slips back down to the bottom of her pocket. "Chloe, you're going to have to get down," she tries to wake her up. Chloe doesn't budge.

Aubrey nudges her. "Chloe."

"Hey. Need a hand?" Beca asks.

Aubrey nearly leaps out of her own skin. She stumbles under the uneven weight of Chloe on her back as she tries to turn to face Beca. "What the hell, Beca?" she snaps and shoots her a glare.

Beca takes a half of a step back toward the corner of the building. "Jesus Christ, Aubrey," she retorts, eyes wide.

Chloe shifts. Of course it's Beca's voice that would be the thing to wake her up.

"Lower your voice, Beca," Aubrey whispers. The last thing anyone needs is Chloe waking up, still drunk, to find Beca standing in front of their door. "What the hell are you doing?"

Beca drops Aubrey's beach bag on the ground and raises her hands in front of her. "You told me to bring your stupid bag." She lowers her hands and looks at the bag.

Aubrey scowls at her. "You were supposed to leave it beside my room." She glances around for any sign of Dr. Mitchell then fumbles for her key again.

Beca stares at her. "It's literally right outside your door, Aubrey." She motions toward the room. "I followed your instructions, 'Sergeant'." She makes air quotes.

"Don't call me that," Aubrey warns her. "I didn't instruct you to stick around with the bag."

"Dude, I just got here!" Beca defends herself.

"Well then maybe you should have followed my instructions faster," Aubrey counters.

"Are you serious?" Beca asks with a wry smile. She steps between Aubrey and the door. "You called me and told me there was an accident and that I had to bring your bag to your room then hung up on me, and now you're yelling at me for bringing your bag to your room."

Aubrey presses her lips together to form a straight line and meets Beca's gaze. They shouldn't be standing outside arguing - not after she overheard Beca's father on the phone. That leaves her the options of either telling Beca to go back to her own room or letting her inside. Her throat feels dry and she glances around in both directions of the building for Dr. Mitchell again. She and Beca need to talk again, and probably sooner than later. "My key is in my pocket," she informs her.

"Are you going to use it to open the door?" Beca asks slowly and waits for her.

"Get it out of my pocket, Beca," Aubrey demands.

Beca takes a swift step forward and stuffs her hand into Aubrey's pocket.

Aubrey jumps and tries to pull back but just ends up pulling Beca back with her. "That's not the right pocket," she snaps.

"Could you be more specific next time?" Beca tugs her hand back out of Aubrey's pocket and feels around for the key on the other side of her pants.

"There isn't going to be a next time," Aubrey hisses. "Now would you get your hand out of my pants before Chloe wakes up?"

Beca arches a brow and pulls out the key. She snorts. "Sounds like what I used to say to Chloe every time we slept in the same bed as y-"

"That is not something I want to hear, Beca!" Aubrey's shrill voice resonates. She freezes as Chloe nuzzles her face against her neck. "Just open the door," she whispers sharply. She inhales silently and looks around again.

"Okay, okay, I'm opening the door." Beca fits the key into the lock and turns it then pushes open the door.

"And pick up my bag," Aubrey adds.

"Are you serious?" Beca asks.

"Do I look like I can pick it up right now?" Aubrey asks and adjusts Chloe in her arms.

Beca takes an exaggerated step backward and sweeps up the beach bag by its handle then throws it inside and follows it in.

"That's not yours to throw around," Aubrey scolds her and walks inside.

Beca puffs out her cheeks. She picks up the bag and sets it carefully on the couch then plops down beside it.

Aubrey nods in satisfaction. She kicks off her shoes beside the door then hauls Chloe back toward the bedroom, stopping once to peer around the corner at Beca. "You left the key in the door," she informs her with a barely visible smirk.

Beca drops her arms down onto the couch and slouches, staring hard at the open door.

"It's not going to take itself out of the lock," Aubrey points out smugly.

Beca lets her head fall back against the couch. "Oh, for the love of -" She stops herself short and shoves herself back to her feet.

Aubrey stifles a grin at Beca's submission and continues back down the hall.

The door shuts with a not-quite-slam, and Aubrey can hear the key being tossed on a table. She turns into the bedroom and walks over to the bed. Her muscles burn. She sits down on the edge of the bed then tries to look over her shoulder and decide on a way to lay Chloe down without dropping her. She carefully slides one of her arms out from under Chloe and lets the sweatshirt that was tucked under it fall on the floor. Chloe counters the movement by wrapping both of her legs around Aubrey's waist.

Aubrey starts to consider just letting Chloe fall backward. It's not as though Chloe would even wake up. She shakes her arm in a futile attempt to rid it of the pins and needles feeling then tries to untangle Chloe's fingers from her hair. She can't let Chloe fall if it's just going to result in Chloe pulling her hair. Chloe is reluctant to loosen her grip. Aubrey groans and leans to the side to glance down the hall. "Beca," she calls then immediately regrets the decision. She would have had to extricate herself from under Chloe without Beca anyway if Beca hadn't shown up at the most inopportune moment.

"What, you want me to read you a bedtime story too while I'm at it?" Beca gripes as she approaches the doorway. She stops underneath the doorframe and slouches sideways against the wall.

Aubrey tugs a few strands of her hair out of Chloe's grip. "You're not funny, Beca," she informs her.

"I was being serious," Beca rejoins provokingly. She pushes away from the wall and walks around the bed until she's behind Aubrey. The bed creaks, and Aubrey balances herself with both of her feet flat on the floor as Beca maneuvers herself into a kneeling position behind her and Chloe. Beca sighs, a lengthy exhalation that she seems to almost try to swallow back. The air between them acts as a conductor, allowing tension to pass back and forth between them with ease. When was the last time that the three of them had been this close?

"Don't rip my hair out," Aubrey warns and cringes at her own forced tone. She can almost feel Beca rolling her eyes.

Beca places a hand on Aubrey's shoulder and balances herself with only the tips of her fingers. She presses her chest against Chloe's back to prevent her from falling backward and uses her other hand to detach her from Aubrey. "She smells like a liquor store exploded," she comments.

"Local whiskey," Aubrey explains tersely.

Beca grunts. Chloe's arms both fall limply down by her sides and Beca quickly wraps her arms around Chloe's torso to catch her. She muffles a groan with closed lips and eases Chloe from Aubrey's back down onto the bed. Aubrey doesn't understand what Beca is moaning about. Beca didn't have to carry her the entire way home.

With Chloe's weight finally lifted off of her, Aubrey gets to her feet and massages her right shoulder. She makes a mental note that Chloe owes her a backrub as soon as she's sober. Multiple backrubs. She better not have pulled any muscles hauling Chloe's drunk ass around the island. She switches to rubbing her other shoulder and turns around to face the bed, not quite prepared for seeing Beca with Chloe. Her hand stills on her shoulder, her thumb pressing a little too forcefully against the area above her collarbone. Her throat constricts as Beca carefully lays Chloe down on her side, not taking her eyes off of Chloe's sleeping form. She zeros in on them, pressure crushing her lungs, the rest of the room a distant blur. If Chloe had things her way, this is how it would always be. Aubrey stands off to the side like an insignificant bystander, time slowing down like she's the Romantic False Lead in one of those god-awful Rom-Coms on the Hallmark Channel who has finally just realized she never really had a chance.

Beca exhales and lowers her hands to her lap once Chloe is resting securely on the bed. She sits back on her heels and looks up at Aubrey as though she's waiting for some kind of further instruction. She looks so natural there - like she's been on a trip rather than like she's been off getting engaged to Jesse.

Time speeds up - or, rather, crashes on top of Aubrey with the weight of a Grandfather Clock. "You should wait in the kitchen," she orders abruptly then swallows the sour taste in the back of her throat.

Beca climbs off the bed, and Aubrey stares at the back of her head as she walks out of the bedroom, waiting for an argument that never comes.

Maybe she's just overthinking about Beca and Chloe. But she doubts that she is.

The air conditioner in the bedroom kicks on and Aubrey glances over at Chloe's damp clothes clinging to her skin. She feigns an agitated eye roll as she walks around the bed to undress her. She can't just let Chloe catch pneumonia. Then she would have to take care of her. Beca will just have to wait for her a little longer in the kitchen, because unlike some people, Aubrey and Chloe were not lucky enough to change into dry clothes after their rendezvous in the ocean. She rolls Chloe onto her back and slides her shirt off with ease. Grains of sand scatter across the bed and she absently brushes a few off Chloe's cheek as well. She'll have to hand the blankets and sheets over to housecleaning in the morning - and sleep on the couch until then. She pulls off the rest of Chloe's damp clothes and places them on the nightstand for the time being. Considering Chloe sleeps with her clothes off more than she sleeps with them on, Aubrey just tugs the blanket out from under her then tucks her in.

Aubrey tugs open one of the drawers in the dresser and stares at the clothes she packed. Her gaze shifts from a neatly folded pile of t-shirts to her pajamas. Despite what time of night it is, she grabs a shirt and a pair of jeans, places them neatly at the bottom of the bed near Chloe's feet, then peels her own damp clothes off. She opens another drawer and grabs dry underclothes, puts them on, then runs her fingers through her hair before pulling on the shirt and pants.

With one last glance toward Chloe, she grabs the wet clothes and Chloe's sweatshirt then walks toward the kitchen to join Beca.