- Part 1 -
Arrhythmia
Who's in the shadows?
Who's ready to play?
Are we the hunters,
Or are we the prey?
There's no surrender,
And there's no escape.
Are we the hunters,
Or are we the prey?
This is a wild game of survival.
-Ruelle
"I'll go in first," Aubrey says and looks around again.
There doesn't seem to be anyone else walking down the path at the moment. She hesitates for a brief second, then crawls through the window, into the dark room. It's a storage closet – full of cleaning supplies. She nearly trips over a broom as she tries to get to the door. No alarms go off yet, so that's a positive sign.
Chloe follows her then closes the window behind them.
"Be careful." Aubrey glances back to make sure Chloe doesn't fall over the broom. She finds the doorknob and exits into a small hallway. There are two other doors – one of which Aubrey assumes leads into the bar. She tries the door next to the closet and walks into a small office. There is a light switch visible on the wall, and she flips it on.
"I stand by this being a stupid idea, Aubrey," Chloe whispers from behind her. "We're going to get arrested."
Being arrested is better than being killed. There are papers scattered all over a desk, and not much else – besides pictures on the walls and a cabinet on the far side of the room. Aubrey walks over to the desk and looks down at all the bills and bank notices. It looks like a lot of debt. "Do you want to sit down while I look?" she asks and pulls out the chair.
Chloe shakes her head. "I want to help." She walks over and absently sifts through some of the papers. "Are we just looking for the gun?"
"We're looking for anything that might be useful," Aubrey answers, "Guns, knives…"
Chloe looks sick.
"Chloe…"
"I'm fine," Chloe assures her, "I'm fine." She opens one of the two desk drawers and moves around several more papers until she uncovers several miniature bottles of vodka underneath. "Hey, Aubrey…" She pulls them out and begins trying to fit as many as she can in her pockets.
Aubrey looks at them and raises her eyebrows. Wasn't Chloe the one just chastising her about wanting to break into the bar for drinks?
Chloe rolls her eyes. "These are going to be important if someone gets hurt," she says irritably.
Aubrey's stomach sinks at the thought, and she nods in agreement. First Aid never occurred to her, outside of her own small First Aid kit. "Good job, Chloe." She reaches out and scratches Chloe's back, hoping to give her some sense of reassurance, then walks over to the cabinet. Chloe can handle the desk. She pulls the cabinet doors and finds exactly what she's looking for. The gun is on the second shelf, and extra bullets are on the top. She grabs the box and glances in it, briefly trying assess how many bullets are inside. It's not full. She tries to stuff it in the pocket of her sweatshirt with everything else, crushing the box to make it fit. "Find me something to put things in."
"Like a bag?" Chloe asks.
Aubrey ignores her tone, knowing full well how tired she is. She doesn't see the music box anywhere.
Chloe exhales a loud, shaky breath and looks around the desk. "There's only a trash bag," she says, softer this time.
"Is it see-through?" Aubrey asks.
"No, it's black," Chloe answers.
"Then it's perfect." Aubrey glances at her and nods.
Chloe pulls the trash bag out of the paper can and empties some papers back into it, then brings Aubrey the empty bag. "Why don't you just put the gun in your pants?" she asks.
Chloe clearly watches too much TV, and Aubrey frowns at her. "Chloe," she says seriously, "Do you like my ass? Because you told me you did."
Chloe's lips curves downward in confusion. "Well, yeah?"
"Then let's not risk shooting it." Aubrey gives her a tight smile, then places the maps and phone pieces in the bag.
Chloe gives her a meek smile in return. She takes the vodka bottles out of her pocket and places them in the bag then wraps her arms around herself. "Can we go now?" she asks.
Aubrey isn't sure what to do with the gun. She doesn't want to put it in her pocket, doesn't want to put it in her pants, and also doesn't want to put it in the bag where it won't be as easily accessible. She has to settle for throwing the gun and bullets in the bag, for now. But that feels like a stupid idea too. She grabs the gun out of the bag again and checks the safety, then she hides it under her shirt and the waistband of her pants like Chloe originally suggested. She ignores the look she gets from Chloe. "Let's go." She motions toward the door. "I think we should go back out the window." While the door would be simpler, it's enough that she has to keep picturing the deer in her head.
"Okay." Chloe wipes at her cheeks with the palm of her hand, tears still managing to keep falling down her face. Rather than walking to the door, she wraps her arms around Aubrey's waist and tucks her face against her shoulder.
Aubrey catches herself before she can forcefully insist that they need to leave. Chloe already knows that they need to leave. She was just asking to go. It hits her that, given the circumstances, if they're not moving, it's for a reason. She scratches Chloe's back again and gives her a break to just breathe. She can't just shut herself down and try to recoup the way that Chloe can; taking time to breathe causes her thoughts to pick up speed, until she can't keep track of them. She slides her hand underneath the back of Chloe's shirt and rubs her hand up and down the length of Chloe's back. Feeling Chloe helps ground her. Aubrey doesn't know how. But there's something about it that brings her back to where she is.
Not saying a word, Chloe pulls away and walks to the door, exiting back out into the hallway.
Aubrey follows her back into the closet and looks at the cleaning supplies. They should cover their tracks. Eventually, they'll find their fingerprints on the papers on Nikki's desk, or something that traces back to them. She can at least prolong them getting caught. They need to leave. She momentarily feels dizzy, like she needs to sit down before she passes out, indecision tearing her apart. "Wait here."
"Aubrey, whatever it is, I want to help," Chloe insists, no energy left in her voice.
Aubrey doesn't feel she has the choice to say no. "Clean the door and window."
xxxxx
Aubrey tosses the rags they used to clean with in a bush. It's less risky than carrying them with them. She fixes her shirt to make sure the gun isn't showing, then tugs her luggage out from behind the bush. There is a nagging feeling that they should have taken more caution retrieving the gun, but people are going to wonder where they are if they don't show up to the chapel in a timely manner. "Put the bag in your carryon," she says and holds it out to Chloe.
"Why m-" Chloe stops herself and nods her head. She takes the bag and stuffs it in her carryon bag. Chloe is less likely to be held accountable for their choices than Aubrey is. She looks up at Aubrey, an unfamiliar stoniness taking over her expression. "How do we answer the questions at the chapel?" She hoists her bag over her shoulder and starts walking, dragging her suitcase behind her. "We can't tell all of the truth. We just broke into the bar and stole a weapon."
"We don't." Aubrey walks beside her, tugging her suitcase over roots and rocks. "We have the right to a lawyer. We don't say a word until we get one." That seems like the safest, most logical option. The moment they get back to Seattle, she'll call the firm and start asking for names.
"So, we don't say anything," Chloe confirms.
"Not a word."
xxxxx
The church is small. It's an old one-room building that clearly doesn't see a lot of people, and could use a new paint job. Aubrey stops outside and gives her arm a break from rolling her suitcase. She can hear voices inside – people crying, panicked. Determined not to regain any intense emotions, she takes a deep breath to further steel herself. The goal is to gather up The Bellas and get the hell out. She looks at Chloe, who seems to have boarded up the cracks in her exterior with the help of Xanax. But she's a mess inside; Aubrey knows it. "Ready?" she asks.
Chloe just nods.
Aubrey pulls open the door and follows Chloe inside. They leave their stuff against the back wall, minus Chloe's carryon, and she surveys the situation. There are a lot of Bellas and Trebles in the room – not many people she doesn't know. She counts the unfamiliar people. There are five people she can't put a name to, isn't even sure they're with the wedding party – and Sheila, who is crying at the altar. Nikki is standing in the corner diagonal from them, looking around. Luke is a few feet away from her. Mills, the deputy, and Dr. Campbell are nowhere to be seen. She looks around for the guy from the Maritime museum, but he doesn't appear to be present either. Maggie is sitting near the front of the room.
There are three exits: the door they came in, a door on the side wall near the altar, and a large window on the other side wall.
Chloe looks around, appearing to be making her own mental notes.
Nikki spots her from across the room and walks swiftly toward her, not giving Aubrey enough time to develop an escape plan. "What is happening?" she asks, voice thick, eyes rimmed with tears.
Aubrey resists the urge to reach behind her and cover the gun. She feels Chloe's fingers brush against her palm and glances over at her as she grabs Aubrey's hand. Chloe is frowning at her, and Aubrey is sure it has to do with the fact they stole Nikki's gun. She steadies herself and turns calmly back to Nikki. "I don't know," she answers. It's not a complete lie, and she can't exactly ignore her without seeming suspicious.
"Everyone is being evacuated off the island," Nikki says, "Even the locals, and I don't even see half of them here. This has something to do with last night, doesn't it?"
Chloe squeezes Aubrey's hand, digging her nails into Aubrey's skin hard enough to hurt.
Nikki glances down at their hands then up at Aubrey. She raises her hands in the air. "Look, I'm just trying to figure out what the fuck is happening here," she says and looks at Chloe. "That's what I'm doing."
Aubrey looks back and forth between the two of them, getting the feeling that she's missing something. "Chloe, can I have my hand back?" she asks. If Chloe presses her nails any harder, she's going to draw blood.
Chloe lets go of Aubrey's hand and folds her arms.
Aubrey rubs the nail marks in her skin.
Nikki looks away from Chloe and around the chapel. "I bet they're dead," she says matter-of-factly, "All the people who aren't here. Just like Tyler."
"Why would you assume that?" Chloe asks, drawing attention to them. She puts herself between Aubrey and Nikki. "Where were you when your brother died? Hm? How do we know it isn't you doing this?"
"You're accusing me of killing my brother?" Nikki looks from Chloe to Aubrey. "Is that what you think, too?"
Aubrey doesn't have time to think of an answer.
"Chloe, take it down a notch," Beca says in a low voice, walking up them.
"No," Chloe says, not bothering to lower her voice, "How do we know that it isn't her?"
"How do we know it isn't any of us?" Beca replies, "I feel like we shouldn't be putting ourselves on anyone's bad side right now."
"Did you not see what happened in the dining room?" Chloe asks, "If they're going to kill us, they're going to kill us regardless."
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean we need to move ourselves to the top of anyone's list," Beca states, and Aubrey thinks she has a point.
"You really think I did this?" Nikki asks.
"No, I really think you should stay away from our girlfriend," Chloe spits with a glare.
Aubrey doesn't miss the our, how naturally it just slips out. And Nikki doesn't miss it either.
Nikki breathes a laugh. "I'm starting to understand this whole unresolved sexual tension thing," she says.
"We're done here," Aubrey cuts in. She grabs Chloe by the arm. "We should be rounding up The Bellas."
Chloe yanks her arm back. "I want to hear what she has to say." She tilts her head at Nikki.
"Just let it where it is, Chlo." Beca shakes her head. "Just let it where it is."
Nikki arches her brows at Chloe.
" Say what you have to say," Chloe urges her.
"I just came over here," Nikki says, putting her hands up again, "To figure out what's going on." She glances at Aubrey, then walks back toward the front of the church.
Aubrey watches her walk away, not quite sure what just happened. The door opens, and Sheriff Mills walks in, drawing her attention back to the reason they're all in the church to begin with. She places her hands on Chloe's shoulders, rubbing them when she feels the amount of tension Chloe is carrying there. "Let's go find a seat," she whispers, choosing to brush the Nikki thing under the rug for now. If things go well, he'll do his questioning and send them to the ferry quickly.
"You didn't even stick up for me," Chloe whispers back, going with her to find an empty pew.
"Chloe, we don't know who did this," Aubrey says, trying to stay calm and not spark an argument. She squeezes between two of the pews, pulling Chloe along with her.
"That's not what I'm talking about." Chloe sits down, glancing at Beca as she sits beside her.
Aubrey sits down and stares at the back of the pew in front of her, trying to decipher what Chloe is telling her. She places her hands on her lap, shifting uncomfortably as the gun presses against her spine when she makes the mistake of leaning back.
"Are you okay?" Chloe asks, turning her attention to Beca.
Aubrey thinks asking her why she's sitting with them might be a better question.
"That's a loaded question, isn't it?" Beca exhales and watches Benji as Mills pulls him to the side to ask questions, "I don't know how I went from planning a wedding to getting ready to go home and plan a funeral."
"I'm so sorry, Beca." Chloe rests her elbow behind the back of the pew and rubs the back of Beca's head.
Aubrey sneaks a glance in Jesse's direction. He's sitting next to Bumper, staring at Beca and Chloe. She expects him to look angry, but he just looks sad. The longer Beca sits there letting Chloe comfort her, the sadder he looks – until Aubrey has to look away, because she actually starts to feel bad for him.
Chloe squeezes Aubrey's knee, getting her attention. "I think we should tell Beca what we did," she mouths, "About the gun."
Aubrey looks away, mulling it over. She and Beca do have a promise. But the more people who know she has a handgun in the back of her pants, the worse this situation can turn out. She turns in her seat, draping one of her legs over Chloe's leg. "Beca," she whispers, hyper-aware that they're being watched.
Beca exhales a weary sigh and turns to face her, Chloe's hand falling from her head to around her shoulders. "Aubrey," she rejoins with weak snark, and the wall that goes up between them is practically visible.
"I want to add to our promise," Aubrey says, regretting it immediately. She has to remind herself that she and Chloe are in this together, and Chloe trusts Beca, even if Aubrey doesn't. She tries to put aside the fact that she has reasons not to trust her.
"I'm listening." Beca rests her elbow on the back of the pew, her arm casually draping down against Chloe's shoulder.
Aubrey leans in so she can lower her voice even further. "We tell each other everything, and we don't tell anybody else." If Beca can agree to that, then she'll consider telling her about the bar and the gun.
Beca leans forward as well, both of them inches away from each other, definitely invading Chloe's personal space (not that Chloe actually has personal space). "I don't think we should be keeping secrets from everybody," she whispers, "People are safer knowing what we know."
"I hate to break it to you, but nobody is safe," Aubrey says, shaking her head. "And people who know the most are the least safe. People who have information are always the first target. I don't think people should know that we know anything."
"What about The Bellas?" Beca asks, "We all three know none of them could have done this. What about Jesse? Dude, I know what I told you, but I don't want him to die. Leaving people in the dark could kill them, Aubrey."
"Aubrey…" Chloe says slowly, "I agree with Beca. I don't think you should keep keeping secrets. Secrets have not gotten you anywhere good so far."
Aubrey turns away from them and rests one of her feet on the pen holder attached to the pew in front of them. She taps the heel of her foot and stares forward at the cross above the altar. If whoever is doing this knows that she's out to protect herself and Chloe, they'll pick them both off before they can blink. They're threats. She can't imagine anyone who poses a threat being left alive. Leaving people in the dark is the safest for them. She realizes she's on the verge of crying, even though she can't feel why.
"I'm not saying that we tell everybody," Beca whispers, "I'm just thinking we might be stronger in numbers."
Tell that to the number of people shot to death in the dining room. Aubrey literally keeps her mouth shut, her lips pressed tightly together.
"Okay," Chloe breathes and places her hand between Aubrey's shoulder blades. "Let's just agree to keep things a secret for now." She looks at Aubrey to emphasize the 'for now' part. "And then if we need to, we can talk about it and assess the situation. Okay?"
Aubrey glances at her. She can get behind arguing her point later. She nods.
"Beca?" Chloe asks.
"I don't feel like I have a choice here," Beca answers, "Either you tell me what you're about to tell me or you don't."
"And either you tell everybody else or you don't," Chloe says, "Either we agree and we trust each other or we don't."
Beca closes her eyes and rubs her forehead.
"We need to make a choice right now," Chloe tells them, "Either we are in this together or we're not. You guys cannot keep fighting while people are dying all around us. It's fucking ridiculous." She looks at Beca. "There has to be a reason you are sitting here with us and not over there with Jesse. There has to be some piece of you that trusts us. Make a choice on what you want to do here. Aubrey just made hers."
Beca opens her eyes and looks up at the ceiling. "Fine." She places her hands on the pew in front of her and looks at the ground, and Aubrey doesn't even need to prepare herself to watch Beca leave. Because that's what Beca does. She leaves. Only she doesn't this time, taking Aubrey completely off guard when she turns and reaches out her hand, extending her pinky in Aubrey's direction.
Aubrey stares at her hand.
Beca blinks. "What, you have some other weird-ass way of making promises?" she asks, then glances around. "I look like an idiot."
Aubrey turns to Chloe, letting Beca sit with her pinky out. "Are you sure this is more serious than putting your right hand on the Bible?" she asks, "Because there are multiple Bibles right in front of us."
Beca grabs the Bible from the back of the pew and rests her hand on it, her pinky still out. "My right pinky is now on the Bible," she says.
Aubrey looks at her, biting back a smirk. "Now hold up your left pointer finger," she says with all seriousness, "And recite The Lord's Prayer."
Beca stuffs the Bible back into its holder and looks at Chloe. "Do you see why I can't get along with her?" she asks.
Chloe covers her mouth like she's trying to use her fingers to rub the smirk from her lips before Beca can see it.
"Seriously?" Beca deadpans.
"Aubrey, stop picking on her," Chloe chastises, sounding annoyed now. "Apologize and make your promise."
"Fine." Aubrey reaches out and interlocks their pinkies. "I'm sorry you're so fragile, and I promise not to tell." The glare she gets from Beca makes the hard slap against the side of her arm that she receives from Chloe worth it.
"Sit back," Chloe tells Beca as they disconnect their pinkies, and Aubrey realizes that Chloe plans to tell her about the gun as Chloe cups her hands around Beca's ear to whisper to her.
Aubrey takes a moment to look around the room. Mills is making his way closer to them.
"Are you stupid?" Beca hisses, leaning around Chloe to look at Aubrey. Chloe pinches Beca's arm.
Aubrey is about to lash back when Mills starts walking their way. She swallows hard, working up her courage to stand up to him and refuse to give him his answers.
Beca follows her gaze then looks back at Aubrey. "What's our story?" she whispers quickly.
Even if they had one put together, Aubrey wouldn't have enough time to relay it to Beca. "We don't have one," she whispers, "Just keep your mouth shut."