FromTumblr: Well, time to know now.
Andiclauds: Well, I mean, the title is about heart malfunctioning...
Bechloe-bible-49: Time to find out.
Pixie1913: I am kind of laughing at the thought of Bologna Barb hating Aubrey so much she sets out against her.
SunDanceQT: I didn't know what else to say.
RJRMovieFan: No one has long at this point.
Guest: I wouldn't say you find everything out. There are still a lot of questions to be answered.
Unique100: Is it.
Conspiracy Theory Anon: That...is a lot of ideas.
Mwallace: It has been given.
Whatizthiz: Thank you. That's one of the kindest reviews I've recieved.
Vickstik: Beca? Useful? Pft. This is Aubrey's POV. Lol.
Pitchisabliss: Whatcha writing?
Arrhythmia
So, I'll walk through this night,
Stumbling blindly toward the light,
And do the next right thing.
And, with the dawn, what comes then,
When it's clear that everything will never be the same again?
- Frozen 2
Aubrey's life flashes before her eyes – only it's different than she thought it would be. She doesn't relive any moments or travel through it, watching it like it's a movie. It's just…that everything feels like it was yesterday – like she blinked and her whole life passed her by.
It was just yesterday that her father had her cornered against the wall in her bedroom, her face gripped tightly by his strong hand, as he told her it was a good thing she enjoyed being alone, because that was all a person like her was going to be.
And it was yesterday that she ended up in Chloe's bed at three am, unable to stop mulling it over in her mind – until Chloe's lips and warm hands were all over her body, soothing every hit she had ever taken - verbal and physical.
It's today that Aubrey walks swiftly to the porch railing and flings the entire upper half of her body over it – and just teeters on the brink of vomiting, with no one there who cares.
For the second time, life as Aubrey knows it is over.
Life is over.
She breaks into a coughing fit – her mind and body at war over whether or not she's capable of throwing anything else up. She isn't. She collapses down onto the top of the porch rail with face buried in her arms, forced to remain in the constant state of sick to her stomach.
She's done now – only not really, because Posens don't quit. But she wants to be done.
"Shoot me," she mumbles to Beca. She can feel Beca hovering in the doorway, staring at her like she has completely lost it – because maybe she has. Shooting her can't be any harder than shooting the deer. It might be even easier. Because despite the shit memories surrounding them, Aubrey likes deer. She can't imagine that, to Beca, or most anyone, she would be much of a loss. And, if Beca shoots her, well, that's not technically giving up…
"Give me the gun," Beca demands.
Aubrey will be damned if she actually hands it over. Beca isn't going to kill her – even though she promised. She promised that if Aubrey was suffering, she would put her out of her misery. No. Beca wants to make sure she doesn't shoot herself.
"Chloe still needs you," Beca says, "You're out here acting like she's dead."
We're all dead, Beca. The nausea renders Aubrey silent.
"Give me the gun, and come back inside," Beca says, "You're not thinking clearly right now."
Aubrey can barely think at all.
Beca continues trying to coerce her, but it's all just background noise.
A few days ago, another yesterday, Aubrey was standing in the kitchen, attempting to cook dinner. Chloe was sitting on the counter, her legs wrapped around Aubrey's waist, making not-so-subtle advances on her, while Aubrey was just trying to keep their food from burning. And Aubrey thinks maybe if she stands there long enough, she will open her eyes and find herself back in that moment; she'll come to to find herself leaning over her kitchen counter in mock annoyance rather than someone else's porch, considering that maybe she should just put the gun to her head – because all she wants is to leave, no matter how drastic the way out has to be. No matter how desperately she has tried her entire life to be her father's daughter and keep going.
If she shoots herself, the process of dying will be quick. Maybe it won't be as terrifying as she thinks. How could anything be more terrifying than this?
Aubrey tries to swallow away some of the nausea, but her throat is so dry, she can't swallow at all.
"Seriously, Aubrey," Beca says in a low, unrelenting tone, "Come inside."
Aubrey ignores her – convinced she can just will this all away. She wonders how her father would feel if he were here; nothing like how Aubrey feels, that's for sure. He would persevere until the end – cold, hard as stone. Aubrey tells herself she needs to persevere until the end too – not because of him, and definitely not because she's made of stone, but for justice for herself, for Beca, for Chloe. But, at the same time, it all just hurts beyond description.
"Beca!"
The sudden intrusion of another voice convinces Aubrey to finally lift her head.
"Jesse!" Beca yells it with such relief and exhilaration, he might as well be there to rescue them.
Only, he looks worse for the wear himself – dark red blood staining his clothes, splattered across his skin. He only spares a brief glance at Aubrey, before he's focused on Beca again. "I thought I lost you."
"What happened to you?" Beca asks, jogging halfway down the stairs, "We saw Luke jump off a bridge. I thought you were dead!" She wipes her face, but that doesn't stop the tears. "Jesus. How did you get away?"
"I didn't have to," Jesse says.
"What?" Beca asks, "Luke just let you go?"
"Is it just you two?" Jesse asks, looking back and forth between two of them, "Did you find Chloe?"
The way he says it – with such curiosity, and so little concern doesn't fly by Aubrey unnoticed, and paranoia takes its tight hold. She pushes herself upright, gripping the banister with both hands for support. The moment she has her bearings as much as she's going to get them, she slips her hand around to her back, curling her fingers around the handle of the gun.
Beca nods. "We need to find a phone, and get her out of here."
"Is she okay?" Jesse stops halfway up the sidewalk. He turns his head and finally assesses Aubrey – holding a rifle close to his side.
Aubrey subtly releases the gun and makes a show of scratching her side before she lowers her hand. No one needs to know that she poses a threat. "Where's Benji?" She changes the subject away from Chloe.
"He's dead," Jesse says.
"Luke killed him…?" Beca asks.
"I killed him," he states – so lightly, so nonchalant, like they should have already known.
The moment Aubrey hears his words, she feels miles away from them.
"This isn't a joke, Jesse," Beca says and takes a step backward onto the stairs behind her, "Why would you say that?" Her voice starts to sound like the shaking of an earthquake.
It starts to sink in – not like a punch in the gut, but like Aubrey stepped into a quicksand of realization, or a slow-moving whirlpool.
"You know, I wanted to leave him alive," Jesse says, shaking his head, "But it was part of the plan." He pauses. "He was the hardest out of everyone. The whole Star Wars thing was always weird, but I liked Benji."
Beca doesn't say anything – her breath hitching with every inhale.
Beca is the king. Aubrey begins to piece it all together – from the moment all of this started with a photograph of Beca and Chloe, and the knowledge that it had been Jesse's idea to invite them to the wedding. She looks at Beca, who is frozen to the steps, and quickly determines by her reaction that she had nothing to do with this. Her mind is numb, and she's almost thankful that none of this feels as real to her as it clearly does to Beca. She doesn't feel that state of shock. Aubrey is existing in some blessed haze protecting her from any more of the impact.
It was Jesse. It was Jesse. Part of Aubrey tries to feel the shock – to feel something that will convince her she isn't dreaming. But she can't feel a thing.
Aubrey does, however, have questions – enough of them to fill a book. She taps into them easily, feeling like the child she used to be, who would read the Encyclopedia like it could control the chaos in her home. She used to not know what kind of answers she was looking for, as long as she got an answer to something, but she knows what questions she wants to ask now. "Why me?" is the first one. The words just slip out, completely disconnected from her.
Jesse looks at her again – silent.
Aubrey tries again, "What did I ever do to you?" If anything, Jesse should have an appreciation for her. If anything, he should see Aubrey as someone on his side. Because if anyone has wanted Chloe and Beca apart more than Jesse, it's been Aubrey. And that's what this is about, isn't it? This has nothing to do with Aubrey at all. "Why all of us?" It frightens her to know – but it would have been so much easier to take a trip to New York and target the one person who poses the most threat to what Jesse wants – Chloe.
"You're so vain, you probably think this all is about you, don't you?" Jesse sings lightly to Aubrey under his breath.
He's off his fucking rocker.
"Jesse, she never did anything to you," Beca whispers through her tears.
"You know, at first I was going to kill you," Jesse says. But not now? "Because how was I supposed to get to Chloe with you in the way? Do you know how fast you would have left this island the moment anything happened to Chloe?" Literally the very second. "But she wouldn't do the same for you. She just watched you suffer until it was too late."
The words sting, as though Jesse had physically thrown them at her. But Chloe had no way of knowing how serious this all was. Aubrey had kept so much from her. She would never let anything terrible happen to Aubrey, if she could help it. Beca was just…a fluke.
"Jesse…" is all Beca can manage to get out.
"But that was before I thought about it," Jesse continues, talking to Beca now, "And I thought, why kill Aubrey to get to Chloe, when everyone would believe if I pinned this all on her?"
Neither Aubrey nor Beca say anything. Beca stands there, barely keeping it together. And Aubrey can barely feel anything at all.
"It makes so much sense." Jesse seems oblivious to their response to all of this, impressed by his own master plan. "Aubrey doesn't want you with Chloe; so she kills Chloe for cheating on her, and-"
"Chloe never cheated on me." Aubrey needs to make that clear. This whole thing may have been screwed up, and Chloe may have fucked up, but never once did she cheat. "Ever."
Jesse doesn't even seem to hear her. "It's unfortunate that now we have to kill her," he says, "I should have expected her to ruin everything by making it about her."
The earth feels like it's trying to swallow Aubrey up.
"Nobody else has to die, Jesse," Beca rambles out the words so quickly, they almost don't make sense, "Let's just leave. You and me." She shoots a brief glance in Aubrey's direction. "We can still tell everyone she did this."
"I underestimated her," Jesse admits, "I thought she would crack."
Aubrey narrows her eyes – white hot anger temporarily breaking the numbing cold. Her nostrils flare as it finally hits her; he did this. Not as a shock – but as full on rage. He has been pushing her and pushing her to the brink, trying to drive her into insanity, so she could take the fall for his crazy – all the while, underestimating her ability to take hit after hit after hit, like she didn't spend her entire life mastering the art of defense.
"It's because they were trying to help her." It's unclear if Jesse is talking to Beca or just to himself. He's more or less just looking in their general direction as he says it – not really at them anymore. "You think people are your friends…"
He thinks Aubrey got this far because of Luke and Nikki trying to help her - while still killing everyone around them? She didn't even know Nikki was alive. And Luke…? "It's because I was raised by wolves," she corrects him with an exhausted humor – the smile of someone who has found one last spark of fight left in them tugging at her lips. If he thinks that just because he has killed people that he is somehow more terrifying than an Army General who raised three tiny Marines all fighting on separates sides of a war…
He really expected her to shatter right off the bat, day one, like a thin sheet of glass that couldn't withstand a single pebble being thrown at it…
He thought Aubrey Posen would break because of him.
That's laughable no matter the situation.
"How were you planning to deal with me knowing she didn't do this…" Beca chokes, "Why-"
"You're traumatized, Bec," Jesse cuts her off, "You've been warped by Aubrey and Chloe, and the sexual deviation…" He shakes his head. "Stockholm is a natural response to the kind of trauma they've put you through."
"That's-"
Jesse keeps talking over her. "And you're probably wondering why kill everyone," he says, "All of our friends and loved ones. Everyone we've been close to all these years."
Aubrey angles her body behind the porch column.
"No doubt they're going to make a documentary," Jesse explains, "I was trying out some musical scores… They're not going to offer a movie deal over the death of just one person."
"Luke said I was a pawn." It's Aubrey's turn to interrupt. She thought it was because somebody was using her, or because, even though she thought this all was about her, it was a matter of value. Not anymore – even though she has no doubt that's what he meant by it. She can grip the handle of the gun from behind the column without it being obvious. "Do you know how to play Chess?"
Jesse and Beca both stare at her – probably believing she has finally just completely snapped.
"First of all," Aubrey explains, "pawns block the rook. The rook can't move in the game until the pawn in front of it gets out of the way." As much as Luke probably wanted Aubrey to think of Chloe as the queen, due to her how significant her loss would be and how all of this had to do with her getting tangled up with Beca, in Aubrey's game – Chloe is a rook. Because all that time, Aubrey thought she was protecting her, while really, she was preventing Chloe from helping. Rooks are powerful pieces, and the loss of them can be almost as detrimental as the loss of the queen. They work well with other pieces. They carry a lot of value. Chloe is definitely a rook.
Jesse doesn't look interested at all. He lifts his rifle at her – and Aubrey stares down the barrel of it.
"Jesse!" Beca panics, "You said you wanted to pin this on her!"
"It will be easier if she's dead now," Jesse says, "Self-defense. She was trying to kill us, Bec."
"But pawns can do something that no other piece can," Aubrey talks faster, "If they're able to reach the other end of the board without being killed by another piece, they can become any piece – even a queen."
"Are you done?" Jesse asks, "Chess isn't really my thing."
"That's unfortunate," Aubrey tells him, "Because I've reached the other end of the board." Aubrey Posen is nobody's pawn. She's the mother-fucking queen.
"Is Chloe inside?" Jesse asks, his gaze flicking toward the open front door, "Is she dead? I really want her to watch this."
That's all it takes. Jesse doesn't even have to take a single step. The moment he threatens Chloe, Aubrey loses all inhibition. Her father always said: shoot or be shot. She pulls the handgun out of her pants, and the loud cracks of two shots echo across the entire island.
Checkmate.
Beca shrieks her name.
xxxxx
The courthouse is silent – so silent, that the only sound Aubrey can make out is that of her own labored breathing. Nine years, she has held onto the details so tightly – so secretly, with no intention of ever letting them be out and known. Nine years of 'obstructing justice' and 'keeping families from finding closure', she has managed to keep the memories locked up – just hers and Beca's to know. Nine years, the only place she has had to relive every second of pain and terror, has been inside her own head, where it no longer feels like reality – where she doesn't have to share anything with anyone, because no one needs to know. And, only one night, it takes to bring down all of her defenses.
There aren't many people in the room – and, of the few, there is not a single dry eye. It fills Aubrey with rage that strangers should feel so entitled to her pain; she doesn't want their god damn empathy. She wants to go the hell home. But, first, she wants to find Beca…
Beca, who, hard as steel, had to be escorted out, crying, halfway through Aubrey recounting every moment, remembering it all with too much clarity for the amount of time passed.
Aubrey wants to make sure she's okay; and then she wants to go home.
She has kids to attend to – a daughter who never should have been wrapped up in any of this, whose father had to physically pry her off Aubrey this morning, because she's convinced Aubrey is going to die.
"I think that's enough for today," the judge finally murmurs, standing up from her seat. They know the rest from the medical reports. "I am going to postpone the rest of this hearing to a future date. Court is dismissed."
Aubrey is still as people file out of the room – the jury, Brian, her lawyer, Genevieve's therapist – all of them finally granting her space and room to breathe in this claustrophobic room. All of them leaving her alone.
The judge breathes out and stands by her chair for a few moments before she dismisses herself as well. She says something to Aubrey, but the words go right through her like a cold wind.
The walls stretch outward on all sides of her, and Aubrey remains rooted to her seat in the center of all the memories and emotions swirling around her like a tornado. She can't move. She can't breathe. It's unclear how long ago tears started leaking down her cheeks, but they're all she can feel now, gathering one by one on her chin where they drip down the front of her shirt.
For the first time in a long time, she feels like she's going to throw up from stress.
She is going to throw up.
Aubrey stands up and turns wobbly on her feet, crashing straight into Chloe's mom.
"Whoa." Julia catches her before she falls. "Slow down, slow down."
Aubrey sinks into her immediately – hiding her face against the lapel of her blazer. She would never leave Aubrey alone. She sobs and sandwiches her arms between them, pressing on her eyelids with her fingers, like maybe that will help her unsee the images now fresh again in her mind.
Julia presses kisses against her hair, crying herself. "I cannot imagine how hard that was for you," she whispers, and kisses her head again. "I cannot imagine."
Aubrey wishes she could. She would never wish her week on that island on anyone, except Jesse himself – but if there was anyone who could somehow understand without going through it themselves…
Julia places her hands on Aubrey's arms and eases her upright. "Howie came to pick up Beca," she says, "Let's go home."
Aubrey nods and does her best to wipe her face with the palms of her hands.
"There are a lot of reporters out there with a lot of questions." Julia pulls her sleeves down over her hands and also wipes Aubrey's cheeks. "Be prepared. They want to know about the kids."
Aubrey closes her eyes against an entirely new wave of tears.
"They're just doing their jobs being shit people," Julia says, "They just want a story." She wraps her arms around Aubrey and guides her from the room and out of the courthouse.
They're supposed to be asking about the island; they're supposed to want to know what happened there. But among the questions they've held for nine years and the flashing camera lights, they follow Aubrey to the car, shouting questions about the present like 'Did you and Ms. Mitchell ever think to take safety precautions for your children?' and, even more personal, and completely unrelated, 'How do you think your lifestyle impacts your children? Who do they consider their mom and dad?'
Aubrey locks herself in the passenger's seat and sinks down beneath the tinted windows – just in case they can still see inside.
The driver's side door closes and the other three doors lock too. "Keys?"
Aubrey hands over the keys to her car – nearly dropping them between the seats when her hand and arm go numb, another familiar and awful sensation that accompanies her anxiety now.
"You did the right thing," Julia assures her, "There is nothing you could have done better."
Aubrey folds forward, and Julia rubs her back instead. "I thought it was over," she cries into her hands – the past and the present muddling together into one unshakable panic attack.
"We all did," Julia tells her, "We all thought we were safe. This isn't on you."
xxxxx
At first, Aubrey thinks Beca is yelling at her – that after all of this, she thinks Jesse isn't worth shooting dead. And Aubrey understands that they were supposed to be married, this is Beca's fiancé, shes in shock - but everyone they love is dead because of that man. Chloe is unconscious, because of him. But Beca isn't staring at her with the anger that Aubrey feels in every nerve of her own body; she's looking at her in a deep, unsettling fear – dissimilar to when Aubrey shot the deer.
Aubrey didn't shoot a deer. This time – she shot a person. Maybe that's it…
The rage begins to dissipate back into numbness, and Aubrey tries to make eye contact with Beca, but Beca isn't looking at her face.
"Aubrey…" Beca whispers, out of breath.
Something is wrong. Something far beyond Jesse collapsed on the asphalt in a pool of his own blood – which is already a hell of a lot to be wrong. Something is wrong with Aubrey.
Aubrey stumbles to the side so the rain stops getting her wet. Only, it isn't raining anymore. She looks down at the sleeve of her shirt, taken aback to find it soaked with blood that's running from her shoulder down the side of her. "Oh," is the only sound she can make. She must have been somehow nicked by shrapnel when Jesse's gun went off too, because she can't be shot. Real life isn't like the movies where the character acts like they can't feel it at all. Only there is a lot of blood drenching Aubrey's shirt, and she can't feel a single thing.
The ground comes up to meet her. One moment, she's standing, and the next she's landing hard on her bottom, stationary in a spinning world. She touches her shoulder then looks at her fingers, and, yes, this is real. And then she starts to feel it.
Not pain. Being shot isn't the sudden, excruciating pain that she would have thought. No. It burns. It feels like someone sharpened the tip of a curling iron, and is slowly stabbing the burning metal right through her shoulder.
Beca has her hands up like she's afraid to run up the stairs and touch her.
Aubrey wants to be with Chloe.
"Aubrey, I…" Beca slowly backs down the stairs instead of going up to help her. "I'm going to find a phone."
Aubrey barely hears her as she stumble walks to the door, crashing into the doorframe – her peripheral vision darkening like a sudden storm cloud is moving in.
"Don't go anywhere."
Aubrey listens to the sound of Beca's shoes slapping against the wet pavement as she runs. She makes it inside and to the couch, where she crawls over Chloe and collapses between her and the cushions. It doesn't feel natural; Aubrey is rarely the big spoon. She curls around her anyway, and clings to her for dear life. Literal life. And she doesn't know whether or not she should just let go – like everyone tells her to do time and time again, while still demanding she be strong. Aubrey is so focused on figuring out what people want from her and proving herself that she's tired.
Chloe has never demanded she always come out on top. The only thing she has wanted of Aubrey is for Aubrey to follow her own desires.
Right now, Aubrey only desires two things: Chloe and sleep - and they're both within her reach.
Maybe Aubrey is a Posen in ways her father never managed to see, in all the right ways – she decides, drifting.
Maybe she is more of a Posen than anybody else.
She has courage. She has strength. She has dignity. Every day in Queens, living her life how she deems fit.
Or, maybe, her last name is just that – a last name, not a definition at all.
Either way – Aubrey has won, and that's what matters.
She settles into Chloe, welcoming her mind shutting down, joining her in being far away from all of this – somewhere in the dark, where only she and Chloe exist, safe and together.
Her father always said, among many other things, "Posens fight for what they want. They keep on fighting."
Aubrey succumbs to sleep, thinking maybe she isn't like him at all - never has been, nor wants to be anymore.
Because Aubrey doesn't have to fight for what she wants.
She already has Chloe right next to her.
End Part I