AntiqueSoul83: Thank you! Slow burn is all I know how to write, lol.
96itadakimasu96: Well, Aubrey's sure that she's sure it's him.
SunDanceQT: Well, not everyone can be likable all the time. But also, imagine the stress of trying to look out for everybody during this and just wanting everyone to be okay.
Pixie1913: iiiiis he out there plotting? who knows?
Daisy: Thank you for all the reviews! I actually didn't even know who Brené Brown was. I had to look her up. And my childhood sucked.
Dysrhythmia
Isn't it lovely, all alone?
Heart made of glass, my mind of stone.
Tear me to pieces, skin to bone.
Hello, welcome home.
- Billie Eilish & Khalid
They wait to leave the plane until everyone else on board has gone first. Aubrey watches them all pull their luggage down from the overhead racks and file out one by one, in true New York fashion, completely oblivious to the six people who have yet to budge. She likes that about New York – how everyone is too focused on their own lives to care about hers. It's something Chloe has always hated; how whenever she says hello to someone, they look at her like she's insane and keep walking, but Aubrey can let a door slam in someone's face like she didn't see them two feet behind her and nobody says a single word about it. There's something about being invisible among the sea of people that has always been comforting – and she's so relieved to finally be back.
The guys follow behind everyone else first, taking care of all the carryon luggage, and Julia backs up once she's able to get out to allow Aubrey to go in front of her. "Do you need help up?"
No. Aubrey scoots to the edge of her seat, and then she needs a moment for her body to accept that she's forcing it to move. The airline seats look more comfortable all of a sudden, like she could curl up against them and sleep forever. She grips the back of her seat and pulls herself up onto wobbly legs.
"Here, let Beca go first," Julia says and gently pulls her back once she's in the aisle so Beca can slip out in front of them. One hand remains on Aubrey's arm as they make their way to the front of the plane and onto the jetwalk where there's space. "New York, New York. No more planes."
LaGuardia is its normal hustle and bustle of people all over the place when they reach the terminal. There's construction happening on one side of them, and Aubrey isn't sure how it's possible to miss ongoing construction that has no end in sight, but it's like a giant welcome home sign. She reaches forward and grabs Beca's hand, actually grabs it, not just locks pinkies, to keep them from getting separated in the crowd.
"The only place I hate more than this airport is Penn Station," Beca states.
"That place is a maze full of people," Julia agrees.
Aubrey has never had any particularly strong feelings about Penn Station, but suddenly she loves that too. She loves LaGuardia, Penn Station, Times Square…anywhere there is life. But that doesn't necessarily mean she wants to be directly in the middle of any of them. She follows the guys toward the baggage claim area in silence as Beca and Julia continue to share the places in New York they don't care for. Port Authority. The Statue of Liberty. Who doesn't like The Statue of Liberty?! '…too many stairs', Beca complains. She has to release Beca's hand once they get to the escalator; it's not wide enough for them both to fit. She taps nervously on the handrail all the way down.
"Are we going straight to the hospital?" Brian asks.
"Please," Julia answers.
"This is where I leave you," Clay says at the bottom of the escalator. He speaks. "The NYPD will be in touch."
"That's it?" Brian asks.
Clay holds up a hand in goodbye as he turns and walked toward the other escalator.
"Pleasure meeting you too!" Brian calls after him, "I'll never forget you!"
"So, that's it?" Julia asks, "We're just on our own?"
"Shouldn't the NYPD be meeting us here?" Beca asks.
"I'm honored you guys think I am all-knowing," Brian answers.
"Brian, I'm so proud you didn't come up with a bullshit answer to prove that you are," Conrad says, clutching his chest.
"It was very tempting," Brian responds.
"You must really care!" Conrad throws his arms around him.
"I'm going to go get the car and contact the boss man to see what's up," Brian says as he shoves him away.
"Okay. I think Aubrey and I are going to go wait outside where there is hopefully less people and more air," Julia says.
Aubrey isn't going to argue with that.
"Fortunately, I have my very best friend Beca to help me with the bags," Conrad says.
Beca responds with a tight smile.
Aubrey is about to argue with that, but before she has a chance, she's being nudged toward the automatic doors.
Brian exits before them. "I don't see any reporters. You two want to wait here? It's a long walk."
Aubrey looks around for somewhere else to wait, but everything looks the same as far as she can see. It's all asphalt and pavement, and there is nowhere to sit down.
"Do you want to wait here?" Julia asks, "Or do you want to try walking to the car?"
Aubrey isn't sure she can move farther than across the drop off/pickup lane. She leans her weight back against the wall, the jacket still around her shoulders providing a barrier between her and how disgusting leaning on a wall in New York City is.
"We'll wait," Julia answers verbally.
"You're getting homelessness and pigeon shit all over my jacket," Brian states, then turns and walks away.
There are probably things even worse than that on this wall. She turns to the side and slouches against her good shoulder, not about to fight with herself to stand up straight right now. The airport needs benches outside – but, even if they had them, they'd probably all be full of people. She slides her arm around her stomach and imagines if there was a clean floor that would allow her to slide to the ground and sit.
"You don't look good at all." Julia touches her forehead again. "Do you wanna try some more water?"
Aubrey doesn't feel good at all. She shakes her head. She just wants somewhere to sit down.
"Okay." Julia folds her arms and turns to watch the people loading and unloading cabs and other vehicles in silence.
xxxxx
Brian returns with the car before Conrad and Beca come out with their bags. He opens the back door for her, and she sits down sideways with her legs still outside so she can watch for Beca. It takes forever, but she and Conrad finally lug the suitcases out through the door then throw them into the trunk.
"That was hard work," Conrad says, out of breath, even though he came out carrying significantly less than Beca, "But you should really consider a career as a porter."
Beca glares and walks around the car to let herself into the backseat.
Aubrey doesn't move – not to sit in the middle nor to shut the door and force one of them to sit crushed between two people. They may be in the clear when it comes to flying, but the car isn't exactly a whole lot more welcoming when even the world just turning on its axis feels like too much motion. She remains half in, half out of the car, slouched sideways against the back of the seat with her arm wrapped protectively around her stomach.
Julia leans back against the interior of the car door and stares somewhere into the distance. "I wouldn't want to be in this car right now either if I were you," she says after a moment, "But I don't know how else to get from Point A to Point B, and I think that we have hit the max amount of time that we are allowed to be parked here. How can I help?"
There some lint stuck to the upholstery that needs Aubrey's attention, and she picks it loose and flicks it outside before looking up. "I don't want to throw up in the car," she mouths desperately. It would be different if she felt like this and it was just Chloe here trying to deal with her, but that isn't the case. She's stuck with all these other people.
"I can understand that." Julia rubs her chin and throat like she's trying hard to think, then reaches into her bag and pulls out one of the airline bags. "This is the best I can do for you right now. I can also keep rubbing the pressure point in your hand if that helps."
Aubrey closes her eyes and turns her face against the back of the seat, grimacing through another wave of gnawing pain. Just think about Chloe. She waits until she's capable of moving again, then slowly pulls her feels inside.
"Good girl." Julia closes her car door for her then rounds the car and switches places with Beca to sit in the middle.
Aubrey rests her head against the window, her forehead pressed against the cool glass, as everyone else buckles up. If she were in the car with Chloe right now, not bothering to bucket her seatbelt, Chloe would probably be trying to call an ambulance. But she's not in a car with people who know her – at least not like that. "Did the hospital call?"
"No. I thought that they would, but no news is still good news. I am about to call them though and let them know we are on our way and want to see her."
Aubrey falls into silence as she does so and tries to use listening to her conversation as a distraction. It's too brief and to the point to do much good outside of assuaging some of Aubrey's fears. It sounds like, unconsciousness aside, Chloe is okay. Good. That's good. The heaviness in Aubrey's chest still remains.
"Dad's calling," Julia says not even five minutes after hanging up with the hospital. "Hey, Babe. Everything okay there?" She's quiet as he speaks, and Aubrey can hear his voice but not quite make out what he's saying. "Well, who told him?" She doesn't sound the least bit happy. "Of course. That makes sense." She pauses again. "Wait, where – where is he going to stay? How – how does he plan to get here?
"You're going to have to call him back. Tell him you'll pick him up on the way. We can get him a hotel room for a night or two and then book him a greyhound home.
"No, no, it's not right to tell him he can't see her. He has a right to see her. Just don't give him any other options. If he shows up on his own, he's going to have to wait until you get here and he's not going to have anywhere to stay. I'm in the car right now. Call him back and then call me back later, okay?
"I'll be okay. I love you."
"Everything okay?" Brian asks.
"Yeah. Yeah, everything's good." Julia puts her phone away then turns to rub the pressure point in Aubrey's hand once more.
"We don't have a lot of room, but if we need to, I'm sure we can accommodate one more person temporarily," Brian says.
"No," Julia answers quickly, "No, it's okay. My son, he, uh, he won't stay anywhere that I am, even if it's offered to him. So, it's okay."
"What a dumb-dumb," Conrad chimes in, "Does he at least call you?"
"Yeah…sometimes." Julia moves Aubrey's hair away from the nape of her neck with her other hand, then places the back of her fingers there, cooling her skin. She stops talking, and a heavy silence falls over the entire car.
"I don't know how anyone could not want to be around you," Brian says when it becomes clear no one else is going to cut the tension, "You seem like a remarkable mother to me."
"Thank you."
xxxxx
There is a substantial amount of airport traffic and an accident on Grand Central Pkwy that turns a five mile drive into twenty minutes of inching along and ten minutes of being stuck in a complete standstill. And Aubrey spends about half of it with the bag under her mouth, torn between not wanting to deal with the shame of vomiting in a car full of people and praying to God to have mercy and just let her get it over with. But since when has God ever listened?
"What do you want to do, Aubrey?" Julia asks when they finally reach New York Presbyterian, "Do you want to go see Chloe first or do you want to check in and get yourself taken care of while I make sure she's okay? No one is going to blame you if you want to do the latter."
There is no world in which Aubrey is not going to go straight to Chloe's room and make sure everything is alright. They both know that. She turns her head so her forehead isn't pressed into the window anymore. "Chloe."
"You're gonna kill yourself," Beca voices her disapproval, like she wasn't herself hinting at suicide a few days prior.
"What do you care?" Aubrey asks, her general irritation with everything around her growing as she continues to feel worse.
"Nobody is dying," Julia says.
Chloe might be – and that's why Aubrey needs to see her first.
Brian pulls the car up by the main entrance. "Do you want us to wait or do you want us to come back for you?"
"Beca, do you want to see Chloe?" Julia asks.
Aubrey assumes Beca's lack of verbal response means no.
"Okay, why don't you three go get some food and some exercise, and I'll keep you updated?" Julia suggests.
"Beca stays," Aubrey states with no room for argument; no one even bothers to try saying otherwise. They remain in the same general vicinity for now, and that's just how it is. It's worrying enough being in two separate locations in the same building.
"Brian, we can go on a date while we wait for them," Conrad suggests, "You can take me out to eat and then be a gentleman and pay for it after. How wonderful does that sound?"
"I don't think you want me to answer that."
Beca opens the door and exits the car as Aubrey comes to terms with the fact that she's going to have to do the same. She's going to have to get up and walk to the main entrance and then to wherever Chloe is. She already feels like she's going to fall, and she's currently sitting. She drops the bag and opens the door before anyone can ask if she needs help.
Julia waits for her then climbs out on her side.
"Call me, Ladies!" Conrad calls to them.
Aubrey uses the car door to balance herself and waits for everything to stop spinning enough that she can let go. No matter how much effort she's putting into trying, it's no longer something that can just be willed away.
"Here." Julia slips an arm around her waist and closes the car door for her. It's easy to lean into her and make it appear to be out of affection rather than because every step Aubrey takes is one step closer to agony. Each breath she takes brings pain in her stomach, not just nausea – real pain. "We'll make sure Chloe's settled, and then we will get you feeling better."
Aubrey swallows against the dryness in her throat and nods her acknowledgement. She walks through the door to the lobby as Beca opens it for them and looks around, surveying the area for potential threats or reasons this may not be the best place for Chloe – even though she knows New York Presbyterian is one of the best hospitals there is.
"Maybe it's your appendix," Beca suggests as they approach the front desk.
It's not.
"I'm here to see my daughter: Chloe Beale. She was airlifted in this morning."
"Maybe I have your names and see your IDs?" the lady ask the desk asks.
"Julia Beale, Aubrey Posen, and Beca Mitchell." Julia digs her ID from her bag.
Is it that difficult to just look at her ID and see her name there? Aubrey releases her stomach to dig her ID out of her pocket and places it between Julia's and Beca's on the desk.
"Someone from security will come and escort you." The lady slides their IDs back to them.
"Thank you."
They all step back a few feet and stand in silence as they wait – each of them staring blankly at the middle of the lobby until a security offers approaches them from the side. "Julia Beale?"
"Yes."
"My name is Tom. If you want to follow me this way."
Julia smiles at him. "Nice to meet you, Tom. Thank you for your help. Is this something we'll have to do every time we want to see Chloe?"
"This is the protocol until further notice as far as I know," Tom answers and leads them to the elevators, "I think someone will be around to brief you on everything."
"That would be very helpful."
The doors close, and Aubrey pays attention to Tom pressing the button for the third floor, then stares downward and focuses solely on not doubling over as the elevator moves. She's sure she would be okay if she could just go home and lay down on her bed. The doors reopen and Aubrey is forced to join the world again so she can memorize the way to Chloe's room. Room 342.
Beca stops and sits down in a chair outside the door.
"IDs?" another officer asks at the door. And while it's frustrating to pull out her ID all over again while the other officer is clearly right there with them, the process makes Aubrey feel that Chloe is a whole lot safer here.
She doesn't look any different than she did in Seattle when they enter the room. She's lying in bed, head bandaged, looking like she's fast asleep – like she could wake up at any moment. Aubrey drags a chair to her beside then collapses down onto it and rests her head on the bed next to Chloe's arm. The only con about finally being here with her is that Aubrey can no longer hope Chloe will be awake when she arrives.
Someone knocks on the doorframe, and Aubrey picks up her head enough to rest it on her hand.
"Mrs. Beale?" a woman's voice asks, and Aubrey is both grateful that she doesn't have to respond and bitter to be feeling invisible with Chloe's mom around to take care of her, "I'm Nora Scott. I am a case manager here at the hospital, and I'll be part of the team that will be taking care of your family. Do you have anything you need? Any immediate questions or concerns on your mind that we can take care of right away?"
"Just a lot of questions about Chloe waking up," Julia responds.
"The doctor will be by to talk to you later, if you want to chat with him. He is one of the best neuro-doctors we have," Nora says, "I know that right now they've been getting her settled and reviewing the files sent in from the other hospital, and tomorrow they have several tests they would like to do that will hopefully get you some answers to the severity of her condition."
"Thank you."
Severity is the word that sticks in Aubrey's brain more than the rest of them.
"We want you to know that our hospital is invested in getting her and the rest of your family the best care possible. We have put together a team of professionals from a wide variety of the services we offer here that we feel might benefit everyone involved – including a few people from our mental health program that any of you are free to utilize, because we understand that this is difficult time for your entire family."
"I appreciate that. That's very helpful."
"Is there anything that I can do for you right now?" Nora asks, "Or would you just like some time alone?"
"We do need some help with something, actually," Julia answers, "My other daughter was involved as well; she's not feeling so great."
"In what way?"
"She's having some stomach issues and I think she's running a fever."
"Okay." Nora looks at her. "Aubrey, right?"
Aubrey answers with a few small nods.
"Aubrey, let me go find one the nurses, and we'll get you into a room and see what's going on. I'll be back shortly."
Aubrey watches her leave then lowers her head back down to the bed.
"I like it here," Julia says, "Much more than the last hospital."
Aubrey does too. It doesn't mean she's willing to stay any nights hospitalized here, but these people seem to care a great deal more about their safety and well-being.