- Part 1 -


Arrhythmia


And it was all yellow.
- Coldplay (Boyce Avenue cover)


Aubrey collapses to her knees in front of the fireplace. It's the best feeling in the entire world, and she doesn't even know if it works yet. "Beca, find the remote."

Beca grabs it from the mantel and hands it to her.

"Let there be heat," Aubrey prays and turns it on.

There is a burst behind the glass, and the fireplace ignites. It ignites. There is heat, and light, and everything good.

Aubrey closes her eyes and cherishes the few seconds she has of not wanting to cry or throw up.

"What now?" Beca asks urgently.

"We need dry clothes." Aubrey needs another shower – but that isn't going to happen.

"I'll check upstairs," Beca offers, "Should we be barricading the door?"

"Just find clothes." Aubrey opens her eyes again and looks up at her. She isn't sure that barricading their exits is the smartest plan – even if leaving them as is leaves them more vulnerable to someone breaking in. If someone gets through a blocked door or window, and they don't have time to get out… She glances back at Chloe, who is sitting on the coffee table, leaned forward with her head in her hands. "Actually, first, a cup of water." Ibuprofen may not do much, but maybe it will help a little.

"Yeah, anything else?" Beca asks, "Chlo, do you need anything?"

Chloe sniffles, otherwise quiet. She crosses her arms and folds forward against her legs.

"A bucket," Aubrey answers for her. She scoots over to the coffee table to help her. "Sit on the floor," she says as Beca walks away, "It'll be warmer in front of the fire."

Chloe sits up enough to slide herself down to the floor, then attempts to lie down across Aubrey's legs, but Aubrey catches her.

"I think you should sit up," Aubrey tells her, "So you don't fall asleep."

"Okay," Chloe whispers and nods in agreement. She slouches into Aubrey's side instead, and still closes her eyes.

"You have to keep your eyes open," Aubrey says, and sits her back upright.

Chloe opens her eyes and tries to lean back over, looking visibly upset when Aubrey sits her back up again.

"I will hold you in a minute." Aubrey can see that's what she wants. "We need to change our clothes first."

"Here." Beca walks back into the living room, and places a cup of water and an empty tupperware container on the coffee table. "I made sure the door and all the windows are locked in the kitchen. I'll lock them upstairs too."

Aubrey nods, and watches her go until she's out of sight. She turns and pulls Chloe's socks and shoes off, placing them close, in case they hear something and need to put their shoes back on. She takes hers off next, then curls her toes tightly, trying rid herself of that uncomfortable wet socks feeling.

"This is why owning rain boots is important," Chloe mumbles at her.

"I own rain boots," Aubrey informs her, "They're in a box in the closet, where they belong, because they're ugly and for children."

"They come in handy," Chloe points out.

"Okay," Aubrey humors her, "From now on, I'll just wear them all the time, even when it's sunny, in case something like this ever happens again. Does that sound like a plan?"

Chloe nods.

"Where are your boots?" Aubrey asks.

Chloe pauses and furrows her brows. She opens her mouth to answer, "I...", then closes it again.

"Exactly," Aubrey says, "At least I know where mine are." She forces herself to stand up, because she hasn't sunk low enough to crawl to their things yet, then drops back down by their bags. Everything is soaked. She digs until she finds the first aid kit and looks it over, then glances at Chloe. Chloe really isn't going to like her after this – but they can't risk infection. She also pulls out the mini bottles of vodka they took from The Cannery.

"I know where mine are," Chloe says.

"Where?" Aubrey asks.

Chloe just looks at her – completely perplexed.

"I thought we swore off drinking," Beca says, coming back down the stairs.

Aubrey doesn't say anything as she carries everything back to the table.

"These are probably going to be too big," Beca says, placing the clothes down on the table as well, "But at least this lady is into drawstring pants. I held off on the underwear, because I do not want to be wearing someone else's underwear."

Agreed. "Do you need help?" Aubrey asks Chloe.

Chloe shakes her head and unbuttons her pants.

Aubrey is more than eager to peel her own pants and underwear off – even if it's right there in the middle of the living room, with Beca there to watch. Fortunately, Beca seems too wrapped up in changing her own clothes. Aubrey takes everything out of her pockets, including her gun, and spreads it all out on the table. Her note is, at least, still legible. It just needs to dry. Her clothes are trash. She folds them up anyway and slides them underneath the table – then pulls on some stranger's t-shirt and sweatpants. "Were there not any long sleeves or sweatshirts?" Her arms are covered in goosebumps, and she tries to rub them warm.

"It was literally all t-shirts and drawstring pants," Beca replied.

Aubrey has to pull the strings hard to tie them tightly enough that these pants won't fall down, and Beca sits down to cuff the legs. The last thing she needs is for her pants to fall down around her ankles while running from someone – especially with no underwear on.

Chloe moves a lot slower than them while changing – even slower than Aubrey, who isn't sure she has one fully-functioning muscle left in her body. She stops when she gets to the strings, crossing them over, then just staring at them.

Aubrey kneels in front of her and takes them from her, tying them without a word. She turns and opens the first aid kit, taking out the bottle of Ibuprofen, emptying two of them into her palm. She offers them to Chloe, followed by the water once Chloe places them in her mouth. Pain killers aren't a bad idea. She takes the rest of the water when Chloe hands it back to her, and swallows two herself. "Now, we just get warm." She isn't going to attempt to sterilize Chloe's head just yet – even though, she really should. They all just need a moment.

Before Aubrey sits down with them, she has to fold Chloe's and Beca's clothes and line them up under the table next to her own (remembering to place Chloe's letter on the table with hers). Neither of them say anything – only Beca even looks at her. Chloe pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes again, tilting her head down. She doesn't even look up when Beca sits shoulder to shoulder with her - only leans in her direction a bit.

Aubrey lines up everything on top of the table too, by size, then stands up and goes to triple check that the front door and windows are locked, and that it's impossible to see inside. Outside, it has started to pour again. She finally comes back and sits down on the other side of Chloe.

Chloe doesn't need prompting to crawl over her leg and curl up into her.

There is a fuzzy throw draped over the back of the couch. Aubrey looks at it, then looks at Beca.

Beca stands up and goes to get it for them, then presses into Aubrey's side so they all can share.

Aubrey brings it up around Chloe's shoulders, worrying about herself and Beca last. She frowns and gives Chloe a questioning look, when she sits up, knocking the blanket off from around her. "You're not cold?" Chloe has to be cold.

Chloe doesn't answer her. She takes the bucket off the table and places it on her lap, then tugs the blanket back as she curls up again – staring at the floor.

The crackle of the fire mixed with rain hitting the roof is soothing to listen to. It doesn't actually calm any of the fear and anxiety in Aubrey's chest, but it's something to focus on – because as much as she just wants to rest, sitting still is difficult. She should be doing something. She should be helping Chloe.

Beca leans her head on Aubrey's shoulder, and traces her fingers up and down Chloe's arm. "I don't think I've ever been this tired in my entire life."

Aubrey just stares at the flames – hoping her silence comes across as less ignoring her and more of an agreement. She wishes she had to energy to move the coffee table and pull the couch forward so there's something soft behind her back. But she settles for the rounded edge of the table against her spine, because that is how tired she is. She watches the yellows and the oranges of the flames flicker among the blue – briefly wondering if their wedding should be in the fall when everything is a beautiful combination of colors that always match Chloe's hair. Honestly, Aubrey would prefer it in the spring though. Outside. Surrounded by flowers of every color – but mostly pink, and purple, and blue. She can almost smell them.

Aubrey will wear the traditional white; Chloe probably will not. She doesn't have any friends (at least not anymore), and Chloe will claim Beca (not that Aubrey wants her), so Brian and Conrad will have to be her bridesmaids. She almost laughs. There will be no one to give her away – but that's okay. Aubrey has never belonged to anyone other than Chloe. She loses herself in her head, playing out every detail of what her wedding will be, like it's finally a realistic idea, in her mind. They'll use Chloe's wedding song, and –

Chloe bursts into tears so suddenly, Aubrey nearly jumps out of her skin. And before either Aubrey or Beca can react, she calms herself down just as quickly – pushing her body so close against Aubrey's that the coffee table moves, and both Aubrey and Beca nearly fall backward.

"We're safe now," Aubrey tries to reassure her. For now. She sits back up, dragging Chloe with her as she backs up against the table again, Beca following her lead. Help has to come soon. She holds Chloe tighter – the guilt that Chloe has been holding it together so well all this time for her creeping in.

Chloe nods against her shoulder, and wipes her eyes. She wraps her arms back around herself and shifts around, not quite settling in one spot until Aubrey holds her still – then she just sort of sinks back into her. "Aubrey."

Aubrey tilts her head.

Chloe doesn't answer her; she just starts shifting around again, refusing to get comfortable. She's on her knees, pressing her face into the top of Aubrey's shoulder, and then she's turning to the other side, facing Beca. But she can't lay her head down on that side, so then she's on her knees again.

"Hey." Beca gets up onto her knees too, and grabs her by the shoulders. She helps try to turn her back to her original position, climbing her way over Aubrey's legs to be on the side that Chloe is facing.

"I want Aubrey." Chloe places her hand on Beca's shoulder, trying to use her to get up, suddenly looking so confused.

"Chloe," Aubrey says her name.

Beca grabs her to keep her down on the floor. "Chloe."

Chloe shakes her head, her features crumbling.

"You are on top of Aubrey right now," Beca says, trying to adjust her back, but Chloe just leans forward into her, "You are on top of her."

"Chloe," Aubrey stresses her name again.

Chloe draws in the deepest of breaths – beads of sweat starting to form on skin. She pushes herself away from Beca with one hand, lowering her other one back to her stomach.

"Chloe, I don't understand what you're doing." Aubrey is suddenly trying to keep her from maneuvering herself forward onto the floor, away from both of them. She realizes it's an effort to hover herself over where the tupperware container fell to once she's holding Chloe up, and Chloe is trying to reach for it. "Beca, help her."

Beca grabs it, holding it under her chin as Aubrey sits her back upright and wraps her legs around Chloe's lap to keep her from getting up anymore.

"I need Aubrey," Chloe is trying to plead with Beca.

"You are on Aubrey," Beca tells her again slowly, "Aubrey is right here. She is holding you."

Aubrey squeezes her gently. That gets her attention. "Chloe, do you know where you are right now?"

Chloe nods.

"Where?" Aubrey asks.

"A house," Chloe answers, lifting her hand to her head then changing her mind and lowering it to her stomach again.

Maybe that wasn't the most specific of questions. "Who am I?"

"Aubrey!" Chloe answers it like it's the stupidest question Aubrey has ever asked – getting more upset.

Aubrey tries to take one, extended calming breath. She presses her lips together to prevent herself from saying anything else that might make this worse. "Here," she says as Chloe tries to grab her sleeve, resting her hand on Aubrey's arm when she realizes she isn't wearing a sweatshirt anymore. She takes Chloe's hand holds it. "Better?"

Chloe nods and squeezes it. She turns her head against Aubrey's arm, starting to calm back down once more.

"Is your stomach still sick, Chloe?" Aubrey asks, hyperfocusing on keeping her voice as soft as possible.

Chloe nods.

"Are you going to throw up right now?" Because if she is, Aubrey would really prefer if it wasn't all over her.

Chloe shakes her head.

Beca looks at Aubrey.

"Just…" Aubrey doesn't know. "Sit here with it close."

Beca nods and holds the container on her lap as she sits down on her bottom. She reaches over to rub the length of Chloe's back.

Chloe releases Aubrey's hand and hugs her arm, finding the shoulder of her sleeve to hold onto.

Aubrey looks back into the fire – staring unfocused at the flames, tears blurring them from vivid and concrete into an obscured canvas of watercolors. And she inches closer to Beca, because she doesn't know how to voice that she is too completely overwhelmed to handle this on her own.

Beca takes a hint for once. She situates them closer, wrapping one arm around Aubrey, still rubbing Chloe's back with her other hand. The tips of her fingers slide slowly, carefully up and down Aubrey's bare arm – and she's aware again that she's still trembling beyond her control. But Beca is steady. Somehow, Beca is still firmly anchored down; and Aubrey wants to feel some type of way about it and assert that she, too, is completely mentally-sound right now, but instead, in the moment, she's just so god-damn thankful Beca is here trying to keep her sanity in check.

"Are you going to throw up?" Beca asks, watching her.

Aubrey hopes not. She shakes her head. "I'm fine," she answers, strained, refusing to look away from the bouncing flames. She can feel the warmth of them, but she still doesn't feel warm. She just wants to go home. She just wants to go home. She just wants to go home. She just wants to go home. She just wants to go home. Like if she can think it hard enough, think it enough times, she'll just suddenly be there, and this will not be real. This isn't real. It's not real. It isn't. She is fine. And Chloe is fine. And she can just think them home, where everything is fine, and –

"Aubrey," Beca says her name.

Aubrey looks at her.

"Everything is going to be okay," Beca says.

Aubrey nods, but is it? Chloe is hurt. Chloe is really hurt. She turns her attention to the fire again.

"It's too quiet," Chloe speaks up, starting to shift herself around again.

Aubrey starts wracking her mind for another random fact, a topic to talk about – even though she's starting to feel stretched by too much conversation. She's beginning to need a moment to recharge socially on top of mentally and physically. It adds to the already endless guilt, that she doesn't want to talk anymore right now. Not just to Chloe or Beca. Not to anyone – if anyone was left. She keeps searching, but she has nothing to say. It hits her that what if this is the last chance she has to talk to Chloe, and she doesn't even want to? She just wants to stay in the quiet for a second, because everything this week has been nothing but noise – and she isn't like Chloe, who needs to constantly be interacting, who thrives on the constant noise.

Maybe she isn't right for Chloe.

She clenches her jaw, locking herself in a permanent state of not-quite-crying.

Maybe Beca is.

"Uh…" Beca makes a quiet sound with the air in her mouth, and starts rubbing Aubrey's arm with the palm of her hand instead of just the tips of her fingers. It feels good. "Okay…"

Only, Beca may not need as much space as Aubrey, but she doesn't exactly strike Aubrey as a social butterfly either.

"Can I sing to you?" Beca asks.

Chloe immediately nods.

Beca stares off at the ground for a few moments with a thinking face.

Look at the stars;
Look how they shine for you,
And everything you do.
Yeah, they were all yellow.
I came along;
I wrote a song for you,
And all the things you do,
And it was called 'Yellow'.
So, then I took my turn.
Oh, what a thing to have done,
And it was all yellow.

Singing is the only thing Aubrey will miss almost as much as she'll miss Chloe if Aubrey dies here. It isn't like having a conversation, and Aubrey actually knows this song – and not just because Chloe likes it. Because she likes it. She joins, her voice raw and throaty, but it is what it is.

Your skin,
Oh yeah, your skin and bones,
Turn into something beautiful.

Beca stops for a moment, allowing Aubrey to have to next part to herself.

You know, you know, I love you so.
You know I love you so.

Beca rejoins without hesitation.

I swam across,
I jumped across for you.
Oh, what a thing to do,
'Cause you were all yellow.
I drew a line;
I drew a line for you.
Oh, what a thing to do,
And it was all yellow.

Most of the tension leaves Chloe's muscles, and she stills herself again, twisting Aubrey's shirt sleeve between her fingers – an assurance to Aubrey that she's still awake. She sighs and slips her hand up under Aubrey's sleeve, sliding her thumb back and forth across Aubrey's shoulder. And Aubrey calms a little bit too.

Your skin,
Oh yeah, your skin and bones,
Turn into something beautiful.
And you know,
For you, I'd bleed myself dry.
For you, I'd bleed myself dry.

Isn't that the truth.