FromTumblr: Relief. Ha. What is that?
Guest: Thank you so much.
RJRMovieFan: I enjoy my decision a lot, now that I have been thinking about it. And I think if everyone gives it a chance, they'll at the very least be okay with it.
SunDanceQT: If she knew anything, she'd say something.
Andiclauds: Here's some more emotion for the first day of 2020!
Unique100: Ahhh! I love it! I am going to use it for this chapter!
96itadakimasu96: I know, I have been writing so quickly. When I take my meds regularly, they increase my hypergraphia for some reason. It's great for updating, terrible that I don't sleep, because I am writing. But hey. I agree. I think that reading this story specifically for a ship is missing the point of the story as a whole.

A/N: Unique100 introduced me to this song in the intro, and I love it. If anyone else has any music for me to listen to that fits the story, throw it at me. I have an entire Arr playlist.


Arrhythmia


My phone has no signal,
It's making my skin crawl.
The silence is so loud.
The lights spark and flicker,
With monsters much bigger,
Than I can control now.
- Au/Ra


"Chloe, you have to try to chill out a little," Beca says.

Chloe quits arching her back and drops back down onto Aubrey's lap – and Aubrey can tell she's really trying hard to be still.

Aubrey has tried rubbing her shoulders and upper arms to comfort her, scratching her back, hugging her – it's all been futile.

Chloe is motionless for all of one minute before she emits a sound somewhere between a whine and a whimper, and she moves again - twisting her body around, her face contorting in discomfort. She digs the heels of her hands into her eyes, pulling her hair with her fingers.

It's impossible to hold her like this. It isn't that Aubrey doesn't want to, but she is literally making it impossible. And Aubrey is forced to let her go, dropping her hands down to her sides – mentally prepared to catch her if she accidentally rolls her way off Aubrey's lap.

That doesn't seem to be what Chloe wants. She turns herself around, straddling Aubrey's lap, and presses her face extremely hard against Aubrey's shoulder. It isn't comfortable for Aubrey, and Aubrey cannot imagine how it can possibly be comfortable for her either. It doesn't last. She turns and curls her legs to the side, very briefly settling when Aubrey attempts to hold her again. Then she's trying to sit up on her knees and lean forward, but Aubrey and the coffee table behind Aubrey restrict her movement.

"Chloe, I think we should try to clean your head," Aubrey says, when she isn't able to take the squirming any longer, "Before it gets infected."

Chloe shakes her head.

Aubrey ignores her protest. They have to do it – and Aubrey really needs a moment where Chloe isn't moving all around on top of her. Her body is aching, and it's killing her. "You can sit with Beca." She tries to make it sound as enticing as she can. Not that she should need to. Anything Beca-related is generally appealing to Chloe. "Let's go."

"Yeah, here." Beca sits up all the way and unwraps her arm from around Aubrey. She helps Aubrey ease her between the two of them, situating her between Beca's legs.

"Don't go," Chloe suddenly panics, grabbing Aubrey's shirt as she turns to get up onto her knees.

"I'm not going anywhere," Aubrey tells her, carefully prying her lose "I'm just trying to get the stuff on the table." She places her hands flat on the wood and pushes herself up, then takes a second to stretch her back.

"Where are you going?" Chloe asks.

Aubrey is silent for a moment, purposely focusing on trying to stretch the ache out of all of her muscles, reminding herself she needs to keep it together. "Nowhere," she answers once she can say it without sounding as irritable as she feels, "I'm not going anywhere. I am getting something from the table."

Chloe nods and turns to the side a bit, relaxing back into Beca. She settles down for roughly five seconds before trying to move to another position. "Aubrey." She tries to push herself up next to her.

"Chloe." Aubrey turns and eases her back down. "Sit down with Beca."

Chloe rests her hand on her forehead, and restlessly moves her legs, rubbing her feet up and down them, crossing them over one another. She bends forward, pressing on her eyes again.

Aubrey sorts through the first aid kit and pulls out some of the gauze. The plastic case kept everything inside dry for the most part. She isn't quite sure how to go about this. No matter how she does it, it's going to sting. "You might have to just try to hold her still, Beca." She twists open one of the vodka bottles. Trying to use those little antiseptic wipes is going to accomplish nothing. She needs more gauze. This first aid kit is dry, but useless. She places her elbow on the table, and lowers her head against her hand for a moment.

"Chloe, sit back," Beca says, "Sit with me."

Chloe stops and looks in her general direction, unmoving for a moment before she finally scoots back against Beca once more. She pulls the container close to her again, then sits still with her arms around her stomach - looking positively miserable.

"I need a towel," Aubrey thinks out loud. She lifts her head, and looks at Beca. She can't ask her to get up when Chloe has stopped moving all around for the next few seconds. "I'm going to get a dish towel from the kitchen."

Beca nods, and rubs her hands up and down Chloe's arms.

Chloe falls into her, closing her eyes.

Aubrey doesn't move. It's only the kitchen. It's only a few feet away. But she was only a few feet away from Chloe last time. She needs to be able to wipe more of all that blood away though, and she can't just let all the alcohol run onto Chloe's dry shirt. She has to leave the room. "I'm going to go get a towel from the kitchen," she says again Chloe.

"You already said that," Chloe mumbles.

It seems like Aubrey has been repeating a lot of things recently. "I know." She moves to get up, but Chloe catches her arm. "I'm just walking to the kitchen."

"I'm going to be sick." Chloe looks like she's going to be sick. But, after last time, Aubrey isn't sure if she believes she actually is or not. She definitely believes Chloe feels like she is.

Aubrey picks up the container from beside her and hands it to Beca, regardless. "I will be right back. Beca has you. I'll be quick, okay?"

Chloe nods.

Aubrey stands up without another word, and pushes herself to walk to the kitchen. It's a beautiful kitchen. Hard wood floors. Modern appliances. 'Home Is Where The Food Is' is painted across the wall in fancy script. It hits Aubrey that somebody lives here. It may be just a summer house, but this is someone's home, and in a few days, maybe a few weeks, god only knows, they're going to get a call that their home is part of a massive crime scene. She goes through the drawers until she finds the towels.

This island is either going to be shut down for good, guarded by the Cost Guard, illegal to step foot on, or it's going to be the next Alcatraz of tourist attractions. People will visit from all over – gawking at Chloe's bloody handprints in the tunnels, listening to guides spout out half truths like they witnessed it all, standing in the places Aubrey and Beca saw their loved ones dead, thinking about how 'sad' it all is. It's immoral. It's dehumanizing. They have no right to any of this. Aubrey will fight to have this island burned to the ground.

"Hey, Aubrey…" Beca calls to her.

Aubrey startles. She's just staring into the towel drawer. She grabs the entire stack and walks back into the living room just in time to see Chloe start violently emptying the contents of her stomach into the container as Beca holds it for her. This place will burn, even if she has to light it all by her god damn self. Aubrey walks swiftly back to them, kneeling on the ground, placing the towels down beside her so she can focus on rubbing Chloe's back. "I'm back."

Chloe reaches for her other hand, and Aubrey lets her hold it despite how much it hurts.

Beca looks down – taking slow breaths, the color slowly draining out of her cheeks.

"Beca…" Aubrey says quietly, annoyed, "We don't have time for you to be throwing up too." There isn't room for all three of them to feel sick. The only two available slots have already been taken. "Look at my face."

Beca looks up, locking eyes with Aubrey.

"You're going to have to get over this right now," Aubrey tells her.

Chloe's entire body stiffens as she heaves again then breaks into a cough.

"Aubrey," Beca says seriously, "I can't do this."

"Then switch me," Aubrey says, prying her hand back away from Chloe's so she can take the container, "I'll take care of her, and you take care of her." She stops rubbing Chloe's back to push the hair out of her face. Thisdoesn't bother her. She could have been a doctor, had she been able to survive the stress of it.

Beca eagerly agrees and takes over rubbing Chloe's back, looking completely away from her. "Okay, but, Dude, I can't do this either. Have you ever seen that gif of the person throwing up, and the other person patting them with a broom? Because that's me, Aubrey."

"It's pronounced gif," is all Aubrey has to say to that. She situates herself crisscross in front of Chloe. "Chloe, Honey, it's okay," she tries to help calm her down. It doesn't do a whole lot. Chloe is throwing up hard, and Aubrey definitely knows how fucking awful it has to feel. All she can do is tell Chloe that she's okay for the hundred-thousandth time, and wait it out. She grabs one of the towels once Chloe finally stops, and places it in her hand. "Please, wipe your mouth so I can take this," she says when Chloe doesn't move, unable to take the container away until she does.

Chloe lifts the towel to her face, just sort of holding it against her mouth and nose, crying into it. She reaches for the water with her other hand, and knocks over the empty glass.

"I'm going to go get you more water," Aubrey says, because she can't let Chloe reach the point she's at where her throat feels like cotton that's on fire, "I will be right back again." She squeezes Chloe's arm when Chloe doesn't acknowledge her. "Okay?"

Chloe nods and turns herself around into Beca.

Aubrey doesn't bother with the empty glass already on the table. She walks to the kitchen, drops the container of vomit in the sink, and finds a new glass and clean tupperware. The kitchen sink can't seem to run water fast enough into the cup. She slams the handle down once the cup is full, and hurries back to the living room. "Drink," she commands, trading her the cup for the towel. The towel gets folded under the table with everything else that's dirty beyond washing. Then she digs her anti-nausea medication from the first aid kit, and gives Chloe the last of it.

Chloe manages a few sips to swallow the pills before she chokes because she's crying. She forces the cup back at Aubrey to put on the table with the other one.

Beca pats her back.

"My head really hurts," Chloe chokes out, covering her eyes with her arm, "Aubrey."

Aubrey is sure it does, and it's about to feel a hell of a lot worse when Aubrey cleans it. "You're okay, Chloe." She doesn't know what else to say at this point. "You're okay."

"I just…I wanna go to bed," Chloe tells her between sobs, "I want to sleep in your room tonight. I just…I wanna go to your room."

"Okay," Aubrey just agrees, "We can sleep in my room, sound good?"

That calms her down – not by much, but it does. Chloe nods. "Don't go to work," she begs, "I'm sick. Stay home."

"I won't go to work," Aubrey promises her, and grabs a clean towel and a bottle of vodka, "I'll stay home with you. We can stay in bed, in my bed, all day." She looks at Beca. "Hold her tight. This isn't going to feel good."

"You're going to pour that on her head?" Beca asks, wrapping Chloe in a tight hug.

"Better this than infection," Aubrey answers, "Got her?"

Beca cringes and nods.

Aubrey has to prepare herself. This is why she could never be a doctor. She counts to five as she inhales, dumps some of the vodka on her hands, then holds the towel against the side of Chloe's face so blood and alcohol don't run all over her. "I am so sorry," she says, then pours the bottle all over the side of her head.

Chloe doesn't fight like Aubrey thinks she's going to past the initial jolt that doesn't get her anywhere with Beca's arms around her. She crumbles instead – crying so hard that she stops making any noise at all – which is actually even worse to witness. Her entire body falls limp into Beca's arms, her shaking shoulders the only part of her that continues to move.

There is so much blood caked into Chloe's hair, that it's impossible to even try to get it out. Aubrey wipes away the red tinged vodka that runs down the side of her face, then dabs her head in an effort to clean it and dry it. Under the table that towel goes too – folded neatly on top of the previous one.

"You good?" Beca asks Aubrey.

"Are you?" Aubrey asks back.

Beca doesn't say anything.

"Mom," Chloe chokes out, calling for her, trying to roll away from Beca.

"Chloe, your mom isn't here right now," Aubrey tells her, and blocks her escape, "You'll see her soon."

"Mom," Chloe tries again, showing no response to Aubrey at all, "Mom." She sobs.

"You are not in Florida," Aubrey tries to tell her, "You're with me and Beca."

"Dad," Chloe tries when calling for her mother doesn't work, "Danny."

"Who is Danny?" Beca asks.

"Her brother. Daniel."

"Mom," Chloe goes back to pleading for her, "Mommy! Mom…"

Aubrey can't imagine Chloe has ever called for her mom and not had her come running – minus those non-serious moments of Chloe purposely pestering her.

Chloe curls up into herself a way that reminds Aubrey of those little pill bugs (or roly-polies, as Chloe calls them) that she enjoys poking with twigs whenever Chloe isn't around to accuse her of harassing them.

"Aubrey…" Beca says.

"I don't know what to do, Beca," Aubrey snaps, "She doesn't know where she is." She grabs Chloe and pulls her upright. "Chloe, I need you to give me some indication that you hear me talking to you right now. Okay? Anything, Chloe."

Chloe folds forward.

"What if I call your mom?" Aubrey lies to her, stuffing her panic as deep as she can, "Right now. We can call her."

Nothing. Nothing but Chloe mouthing 'mom', still trying to get her attention.

Aubrey doesn't have anything. She doesn't have her phone to pull up a voice-mail from Chloe's mom, because, okay, maybe she has a few of them saved. She doesn't have a picture. No. No. She does have something. Maybe not from Chloe's mom, but she has something. She grabs Sam from the table. He's a gross, wet, scraggly excuse of a bear – but he is something. "Hey." She pushes him against Chloe's hand. "Look."

Chloe's hand tightens around him, and she opens her eyes. Her pupils have dilated an extremely concerning amount. She picks him up and holds him against her forehead. Then she slowly lowers him back down by gliding him down her face. She looks around once he's under her chin, and Aubrey can see the awareness come back to her – the confusion. She pushes herself away from Beca, back over to curl up in Aubrey's arms.

Aubrey moves back against the table to adjust herself for her.

Chloe turns to cry into her shoulder. "Aubrey."

"Mhm," Aubrey hums her presence, "I am right here." She rubs her back, and just holding her seems to be enough now.

Chloe scrubs Sam against her eyes, settling herself into Aubrey, her sobs tapering off after a few minutes. And then she's quiet, quiet enough that Aubrey has to periodically check to make sure she's still awake. For a little while, maybe ten minutes, they're all able to get some sort of peace.

The fire crackles loudly – taking the edge off of the absolute silence.

"Is the fire making you feel warmer?" Aubrey asks Beca.

"Yeah, actually," Beca answers, "You?"

Aubrey doesn't say anything - just pulls the blanket back around them.

Chloe turns her head on Aubrey's shoulder to look at ground below the fire rather than at the flames, and traces the chain of Aubrey's necklace with her finger, gently fiddling with the tiny key. She sniffles. "I want a fireplace in our new house."

"Okay," Aubrey agrees, "You can have five of them. Twenty."

"Just…one," Chloe replies, "Unless we put one upstairs too." She sits up a little, propping herself up with her arm against Aubrey's chest. "What's wrong?"

"I think you should rest," Aubrey whispers.

Chloe frowns. "Why are you mad?"

"I'm not mad." Aubrey looks at her. She really isn't. She isn't angry. She isn't irritated. She isn't frustrated. Not at Chloe. How could she be? The rubber band that is her emotions in general is just stretched as far as it will go. "I am not mad at you. I love you."

"I love you, too." Chloe twists some of Aubrey's hair around her finger – looking puzzled. "We should get a fireplace for our new house. I want a fireplace." She pauses. "I want my mom."

"We will get a fireplace, and you can see your mom. But, right now, put your head down," Aubrey commands gently, easing Chloe back down against her, "And rest."