A/N: Okay, this is really and truly the end of this story. (No, I'm not writing a sequel.) THANK YOU to everyone who has read/reviewed/commented/messaged/left kudos/etc/etc/etc! I've had some questions about what I'm doing next. I have a one-shot I'm writing right now that should (hopefully) be up by Sunday at the latest. And then I've got a couple of other things I'm planning afterwards.

Anyway. Here are the deleted scenes. They're very short.

The "what if the killer went after Beca and/or Chloe?" scene that everyone kept fearing would happen.

It comes in a nondescript white envelope.

Maybe that's why Beca ignores the fact that there's no return address; it looks like an ordinary piece of mail. Or maybe she's distracted by the residual endorphins from the hour-long shower that she just shared with Chloe.

Either way, she rips open the envelope.

Hello Detective Mitchell, she reads, and her blood runs cold.

This is the Barden Strangler.

You think you are so smart, don't you? You think that you and your girlfriend know every thing about me. But you do not.

And yes I know Chloe Beale is your girlfriend. I have been watching you. I know where you live. I know where you work. I know what car you drive.

So if you know what is good for you you will stop trying to find me. Because you will not and then you will pay.

Your move, detective.

-The Barden Strangler

Beca's hands are shaking by the time she finishes reading the letter. She notices that there is something else inside the envelope, and she picks it back up. Inside she finds photographs—of her, of Chloe, of the two of them walking together down the street. The two of them getting into Beca's car. Them leaving the precinct.

Beca doesn't realize it, but she must have made some kind of noise because Chloe comes running into the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" Chloe asks, taking in Beca's pale face and quaking hands. "What happened?"

Beca just pushes the letter and the pictures towards Chloe; she feels like if she opens her mouth she'll vomit.

Chloe's brows knit together in worry as she reads. When she's done, she takes Beca's hands in her own. "Beca, take deep breaths. I know this is scary."

Beca tries to force air into her lungs. She almost doesn't care about herself—she doesn't, like, want to die, but it's the threat to Chloe that makes her heart nearly beat out of her chest.

"We're going to find another place to stay," Chloe tells her, "and we're going to get guards. Just let me take care of this."

Beca just nods dumbly. She sits staring at the wall as Chloe starts making calls.

Beca is grateful that Chloe seems to know what to do, because she sure as hell doesn't.

A tiny moment from chapter twelve that I meant to put in but forgot about.

The only time that Beca can get through the shower in a reasonable amount of time is when Chloe goes out for a run.

She wraps a towel around her body and pads into the bedroom in search of clothes. Something on the bed catches her eye, and she steps closer.

A red piece of fabric is spread across the blanket; upon further investigation, Beca sees that it's a cape. There's a yellow Superman logo in the middle underneath a printed word: SUPERCOP.

Beca groans. Her girlfriend is an idiot.

(Also, where the hell did she even get this?)

Alternate ending to the epilogue.

Chloe likes the ocean.

Beca doesn't really understand what's so great about it—it's salty, and it smells weird, and it houses any number of things that could sting you or bite you or drag you into its underground lair and hold you hostage for all of eternity.

Beca might be a little afraid of the ocean.

But Chloe likes to walk along the pier in DC, so Beca sucks it up.

It's actually not that bad. Chloe holds her hand and gazes out over the water and Beca gazes at Chloe, the slight breeze lifting her hair a bit.

It makes Beca want to kiss her.

Today feels different, though: Chloe's a little tense. She's antsy.

Usually, they sit in near-silence. But Chloe blurts, "Beca, I love you."

Beca smiles a bit confusedly. "I love you, too, Chlo."

"I love you," Chloe repeats, her face an expression of determination. "I love you more than anyone I've ever known, and you're the most important thing in my life." Beca looks on, bemused. "You're the most amazing person I've ever met. You make me better—stronger, kinder, happier. And I like to think that I make you happy, too."

"You do, Chlo," Beca says, gently cupping Chloe's cheek for a moment. A tiny flame of suspicion lights in her stomach, and she thinks that she might have some idea of where this is going.

"And I want you to continue to make me happy, and I want to continue to make you happy," Chloe continues. "I want to be with you for the rest of my life." Yeah, Beca knows exactly what's happening now, and her heart starts to pound as Chloe shifts into a kneeling position, pulling a small box out of her jacket pocket.

The sight makes Beca's stomach flutter and her hands shake, and she can feel the pinprick of tears behind her eyes.

"Beca Mitchell, will you marry me?"

It takes a moment for Beca to choke out, "Yes."

Beca's not a relationship expert—actually, she's probably quite the opposite. But she's pretty sure that if a relationship can survive a serial killer, it can survive anything.

Suddenly, she's excited about the rest of her life in a way she never was before.