- Part 1 -
Arrhythmia
I don't want to be a solider
Who the captain of some sinking ship would stow,
Far Below.
So, if you love me, why'd you let me go?
-Coldplay
Shockingly enough, Beca is exactly where Aubrey told her to wait. Not shockingly, she seems to have made herself at home, leaning back on the chair she's sitting on. She glances up from the table as Aubrey enters the room and lowers her foot to the ground.
Aubrey walks past her without uttering a single word. She drops the damp clothes on the counter top beside the sink then looks at Chloe's sweatshirt. She heaves a sigh and turns on the sink.
"And the awkward silence ensues," Beca murmurs under her breath.
Aubrey rolls her eyes. There's no reason for Beca to even stick around now. Beca did her duty. Aubrey guesses she's still graced with Beca's unwanted presence because she hung up the phone on her after blurting out that there had been an accident. She dips the soiled parts of Chloe's sweatshirt under the cold water. As long as she can prevent the stain from setting, it should be okay until she can wash it properly in the morning.
"Gross," Beca mutters.
Aubrey turns her neck and glares at Beca from out of the corner of her eye. "Aca-scuse me?" It's not Chloe's fault. In a logical stream of events, the vomiting happened due to drinking and the drinking happened due to either Tyler hanging from a noose or Beca's existence. For once, she chooses not to believe it's the latter.
Beca tips her chair back on two legs. "You're washing someone else's vomit," she points out matter-of-factly.
It's tempting to pretend she's surprised, like she didn't realize she was washing Chloe's sweatshirt, but instead, Aubrey just gives Beca a blank stare. "You're getting married," she counters.
Beca lowers her chair back down to all four legs. "So?"
Even Aubrey isn't so oblivious as to how relationships work. She turns off the sink and grips the edge of the counter, not releasing Chloe's sweatshirt. "So?" she reiterates. She drops the sweatshirt and turns around to face Beca. "So just wait until you and Jesse have to take care of each other."
Beca arches a brow. "Are you serious?" She tips her chair back again. "Jesse and I can take care of ourselves."
"So can Chloe," Aubrey replies sharply. She inhales slowly and stares just above Beca's head. She lowers her voice. "That doesn't mean that she has to." She turns back around and separates the clothes, draping them all over the edge of the sink. Her throat suddenly feels dry, though she can't pinpoint the reason. She takes her time making sure most of the water from the clothing drips into the sink rather than onto the floor. So, who takes care of you, Aubrey? a simple thought runs through her mind. The logical answer would be Chloe. Chloe tries, and would succeed if Aubrey let her. But the real answer to the question is, I do.
From behind her, Aubrey hears Beca get to her feet and push in her chair – the legs scraping loudly across the floor. She glances back out of the corner of her eye, becoming aware that once Beca leaves, she will be almost alone. "Wait," she blurts out before she can stop herself. Shoulders tense, she presses her palms against the edge of the counter, feeling the wood press against her skin. She turns part way around, watching Beca walk over from the table and stop in front of her. Beca's hand rests casually beside one of her own, and she blames Chloe for the brief thought of hoping their fingers touch. She waits for them to brush together, waits for the burning feeling, but they never do.
Aubrey's gaze flutters from their hands to the ground, her cheeks growing momentarily hot. "Chloe thought she heard something at the ice cream shop," she says quietly. She has to purse her lips together for a moment as tears sting her eyes. She can't look at Beca, sure if she does that Beca will know she had treated the shop worker less than ideal. "Then the guy who worked there was dead." She could have worded it better, pieced it together step by step for Beca, had she been able to make words without her airways clenching together.
"Like...dead?" Beca looks around as though the explanation is written somewhere in the kitchen. She looks at Aubrey again.
There is a tear lurking in the corner of Aubrey's eye and she has to wait for it to snake its way down her cheek and hide somewhere on the front of her shirt before she can look at Beca. She keeps her muscles clenched tight as she nods. "We both saw him."
Beca stands there uselessly. "So what did she hear?"
Aubrey manages to breathe in a deep breath then slowly let it out. There was no way Chloe could have heard him die, right? Her brows furrow on their own accord, and she slowly shakes her head. "I don't know." It occurs to her how lost Beca looks, but Aubrey doesn't bother to say anything else. Her chest aches. Her lips start to quiver and she quickly clenches her jaw to stop from appearing as though she's going to cry. This week has gotten so fucking stressful, and they're not even halfway through it.
"Dude." Beca tilts her head and tries to make eye-contact. "What is going on with you?"
Their fingers touch and Aubrey withdraws her hand like she's been burned. She looks at the faucet, tempted to turn on the water and see if it will wash away Beca's touch. Her breaths are getting heavier as she tries to keep them even. "I'm not crazy, Beca," she insists, finally meeting her eye. She breaks their gaze as tears blur her vision and walks away from her, making her way into the living room.
"Aubrey," Beca hisses and follows her. She grits her teeth. "I never said that you were crazy."
"No, but that's what you're thinking!" Aubrey snaps in a loud whisper. She turns and lowers herself down onto the couch then crosses her arms across her chest. It feels like she can't catch her breath. Her phone rings. She realizes she could hand it to Beca to answer, but instead she loses her battle against holding back tears and stares at the carpet as she listens to her ringtone.
"I'm not, Aubrey," Beca insists and points at herself with both hands as she walks toward the couch. "Just because you think that I'm thinking something doesn't mean that I'm thinking what you're thinking I'm thinking." She pauses. "Jesus Christ." She sits down on the couch, so close to Aubrey that they're almost touching. "Just tell me what's going on." She sounds almost desperate.
Aubrey is silent as her phone continues to ring. Her nose is getting stuffy and she resorts to breathing through her mouth, inhaling and exhaling heavy, sporadic gasps of air. Her stomach drops and she has to close her eyes and push back feeling as though she is going to vomit. She's not sure she can hold it back this time. She closes her mouth, failing at holding back a whimper when she suddenly can't breathe at all.
Beca quickly turns on the couch to face her, kneeling with one leg under herself and her other foot pressed against the floor. "Aubrey, you're okay." She's a little more forceful with her words and a lot less soothing than Chloe would have been. She grabs Aubrey's arm and places her other hand flat on Aubrey's lower back. She suddenly sounds less sure of herself. "Dude, you're shaking." The hand on Aubrey's arm suddenly moves to her forehead.
Aubrey already knows she doesn't have a fever. She shoves Beca's hands away from her. "Get off, Beca!" She moves to refold her arms, but Beca tries to put her hands right back in their original position. "I said get off!" She pushes at Beca's hands, dueling with them as they try to keep touching her. "Get off!" Her phone rings again.
"Is that whoever keeps calling you?" Beca asks.
Aubrey screws her eyes shut, still trying to fight off Beca's hands, and adamantly shakes her head. But there is no one else who would be calling her phone. Chloe is asleep.
Beca's hand slips past her and to her pocket with her phone. She grabs the phone before Aubrey can get to it and pulls away from her, answering the call and holding it to her ear. "You better knock it the fuck off," she spits into the receiver. The music drifts through the earpiece, loud enough that Aubrey can hear it. Beca gets to her feet. "You want to hide behind your music, you coward? I'll still find who you are."
Aubrey opens her eyes and watches her. She realizes it should be her on the phone; it should be her with the courage to put the person calling in their place. But she would rather not deal with whatever consequences could come from that. She doesn't need another mirror covered in blood. She's suddenly overwhelmed with the need to convince Beca to hang up the phone before something happens to her as well. She draws in a deep breath, trying to steel her emotions. "Beca," she half-whispers. "Beca, don't."
Beca looks at Aubrey just as the music fades and is replaced by static.
A man's distorted voice speaks calmly into the phone. "If you place your head in a lion's mouth, Beca, then you cannot complain one day if he happens to bite it off." He breathes heavily – angrily.
"I'll keep that in mind next time I'm at the zoo," Beca retorts. "You call either of us again and they'll be scraping your DNA out of that lion's shit," she warns.
He hangs up the phone.
"He was quoting," Aubrey points out.
Beca hangs up Aubrey's phone and tosses it on the couch. "Quoting what?" she asks. "A safari waiver?"
Aubrey sniffles and shakes her head. "Agatha Christie." Her voice cracks. "He's quoting from a murder mystery author, Beca."
"So he's an asshole and he lacks originality," Beca reiterates. "If it's Bumper, what else is new?" She throws herself back down on the couch. "Can he just let it go that we won the title?" She exhales a disbelieving breath and shakes her head. "And once upon a time, I thought you were obsessed and ridiculous."
Aubrey glances over at her out of the corner of her eye. Things are no longer piecing together the way she thought they were. There was Bumper being Bumper – and then there was a missing weapon, blood on her mirror, and a dead boy. She shook her head. "It's not Bumper, Beca." She wrings her hands together on her lap. "This is about more than just A Cappella." She searches for the words to sum up her thoughts, but isn't sure Beca would believe anything she had to say. "I think we should go for a walk," she says. "I have to show you something."
"Dude, it's the middle of the night." Beca sits up straight and turns to face her. "Shouldn't you be here with Chloe?"
"I can call one of The Bellas to stay with Chloe," Aubrey suggests. She hates the idea, but she can't come up with a better one.
Beca lifts a hand and rubs her face – pressing her palm and fingers hard against her eyes.
Aubrey steadies her voice. "This is important, Beca."
Beca sighs. "There are a lot of important things I should - " She's cut off by her ringtone. It causes the both of them to jump. Beca lowers her hand from her face and grabs her own phone out of her pocket. She answers it and presses it hard against her ear. "What the hell do you want?"
"Whoa," Jesse's voices come through the earpiece. "It's me."
Beca exhales a sigh that contains only a fraction of relief. "Yeah, sorry. I was expecting it to by my dad," she lies.
Jesse is silent for a moment before speaking again. "You should really make up with him before the wedding, Bec."
"I'll put it on my to-do list right after Stacie's idea that she help me pick out lingerie for our wedding night," Beca deadpans.
"...right," Jesse mutters and follows it up with a few seconds of silence. Seemingly coming to the conclusion that Beca isn't going to talk, he continues the conversation. "Where are you? You're not back at the room."
Beca purses her lips together and shoots a glare at Aubrey then looks up at the ceiling.
Aubrey watches her, waiting for her to tell Jesse that she'll be right there then make a beeline for the door.
"Yeah, I won't be back until later," Beca tells him. "The Bellas are having a Girls' Night," she lies through her teeth. "They want to play Truth or Dare, but Aubrey is policing it like hell."
Aubrey narrows her eyes. "I don't police things, Beca," she snaps.
Beca rolls her eyes.
"That's a little weird," Jesse says slowly. "I just saw Fat Amy walking by with Bumper on my way back from the bonfire."
"She said something about wanting a midnight snack before she came over," Beca says. She smirks. "Something about a quick sausage roll."
Aubrey gives her a disgusted look and does her best to fight off the half-smile that suddenly pulls at her lips.
Beca looks at Aubrey and her smirk suddenly seems to become prouder. 'Call Fat Amy to watch Chloe,' she mouths at Aubrey.
Aubrey's smile fades back into pure disgust. 'Gross,' she mouths back, 'Do you know what she's probably doing right now?'
Beca places her hand over the phone receiver. 'Yeah', she replies. She moves her hand back and forth in front of her mouth and presses her tongue against her cheek.
Aubrey knows she's going to vomit now. She uses both hands in an attempt to shove Beca right off the couch. "You call her," she whispers.
Beca snorts and lands on her side, pressing one of her feet flat against the floor to keep her balanced on the couch. She leans against her arm holding the phone and lifts her other arm to battle Aubrey away from her. "I have to go," she tells Jesse, smiling into the phone.
"Don't do anything too crazy tonight," Jesse says. "I love you, Bec."
"Yeah. You too," Beca replies simply then hangs up the phone. She groans and sits up, pushing Aubrey away from her.
Aubrey leans back and stares her in the eye. "You're lying to him about what you're doing," she says, suddenly serious again.
"You wanna go for a walk or not?" Beca retorts. She gets to her feet and starts to dial a number on her phone. "I'll interrupt Fat Amy."
It's not right that Aubrey suddenly feels as though she can breathe again. But she nods and gets to her feet.
xxxxxx
"Where are we going?" Beca asks as they creep around the corner of the inn. "Jesse is going to catch us out here." She presses against the wall of the inn, her eyes on Donald and Bumper as they stand on the steps in front of the inn's main entrance. Bumper's face looks worse for the wear – a giant, exaggerated bandage covering his nose. "Or those two are gonna tell him where I am."
"We need a map," Aubrey says – also keeping an eye on Bumper and Donald. Bumper is no doubt complaining about his shortened night with Fat Amy. Probably blaming it on the current state of his face, Aubrey thinks with a smug look. "I saw some in the lobby."
"Well, isn't there a back entrance?" Beca asks. She leans back and scans the side wall of the inn. "Or like a fire exit or something?"
Aubrey rolls her eyes. "Just wait here," she mutters through grit teeth. "I'll go in the grab the map." She takes a step around the corner.
Beca stands up straight and looks around their dark surroundings with wide eyes. "Dude, n-" She stops herself when Aubrey looks at her. "Yeah, fine," she mutters casually but with a slight tremor in her voice. She folds her arms and leans back against the wall. "Just don't take all night."
"Do you want to go get the map?" Aubrey asks not bothering to hide her irritation. She regrets asking it, because knowing Beca, she probably couldn't even find it if it jumped out and bit her on the ass as soon as she walked through the door. That, and she doesn't want to stand outside alone. Not that she wants to walk past Bumper and Donald alone either.
Beca slowly leans forward, peering around Aubrey at Bumper and Donald. "I'd prefer my face stay intact, thanks."
"Then shut up and wait here," Aubrey hisses. She draws in a breath of the tree-sweetened air and marches toward the inn with every ounce of confidence she can muster. She wonders if Bumper would dare touch her again after what Beca did to his nose. Her nails dig into her palms as she realizes she's about to find out. She can't help but smirk a little though as she walks up the stairs, past him and Donald.
Bumper's face turns even more sour, but he stares straight ahead in silence, not even glancing at Aubrey. Donald, if Aubrey isn't mistaken, makes a subtle 'okay' sign with his hand.
Aubrey lifts her head higher as she continues climbing the steps then walks in the door to the lobby. She smiles politely at the man behind the main desk and quickly makes her way toward a shelf of brochures. There are a few for events on the island, but most have to do with tourist attractions on the mainland. She takes a map of the island, nods at the man behind the desk, then speed walks back out the door – past Bumper and Donald again.
Bumper mutters 'bitch' behind her back.
"Okay," Aubrey says quickly and walks back around the corner that leads to Beca, walking up beside her.
Beca jumps. "Dude," she snaps. "Give me a warning next time."
Aubrey ignores her and unfolds the map. "We need light." She squints and tries to locate the inn under the dim light of the moon and a distant street lamp.
Beca fumbles and pulls out her phone. She switches on its flashlight and shines it on the center of the map.
Aubrey shakes the map so it won't collapse when she lets go of it with one hand. "We're here," she says and points at a dot labeled 'Candlewick Inn'. The map begins to lose shape and Beca grabs the loose side of it. Aubrey continues scanning the roads and locations. "And we want to be..." She trails off. "Here." She points at the island's medical clinic.
Beca blinks. She tilts her head and looks up at Aubrey. "What?"
Aubrey nods. "I have to find something out," she says vaguely. "And you should come with me." If she can't find the right way to describe her experience with the dead ice cream shop boy, she'll just have to confirm her suspicion that his death wasn't an accident – with Beca in tow.
"That's like a mile away, near the bar," Beca states the obvious and looks from Aubrey to the map then back to Aubrey again.
Aubrey nods. "We better get walking." She folds the map back up and sticks it in her pocket. She glances back in the direction of her room, hoping that Chloe will be okay with Fat Amy. She considers texting her to let her know she's going out and will be back, but doesn't want a full line of interrogation questions if Chloe doesn't wake up and never sees the text until morning. She folds her arms to avoid reaching into her pocket for her phone. "Let's go," she tells Beca firmly and starts walking toward the driveway.
"Can't we just call this place?" Beca asks, trailing behind her for a few seconds before catching up. "I'm sure they can just tell you whatever you need to know. On the phone. From inside the inn."
Aubrey turns her head and meets Beca's gaze. "This is important, Beca," she says seriously. She could call the clinic and find an excuse to have all of her questions answered. But what good would that do when she already can't think of a way to describe anything to Beca? "I need to show you."
Beca sighs and presses her lips together in an irritated smile.
Aubrey stops at the edge of the driveway and turns to stand facing Beca. She'll never be able to handle Beca's attitude a mile across this damn island. "I'm serious," she says in a low voice. "This is important." She pauses and breathes in an attempt to find a gap in her pride. The corners of her lips twitch in discomfort. "And I'm trusting you."
Beca's features slowly soften, subtly at first but then more visibly, into something that almost resembles pain. Her smile becomes tighter and she looks at the ground then briefly back at Aubrey. She crosses her arms and nods toward the main road. "Then what are we waiting for?"
