A/N: Hey guys! So, this will be another multi-chapter. This is one that means a lot to me personally, and is the reason I was not around for a bit here. :) I hope you all will give this a read, for I really want to get it out. Let me know what you think, and as always, thank you for the support. xx.

Chapter 1

The taste of metal filled her mouth. Why metal? There shouldn't necessarily be a taste—what she threw up was clear. Tasteless. Beca got a bit of a second wind and raised her body up again, in the back of the car. She looked at the small glowing digital numbers on her father's dash. 6:08am. She then focused on her breath, which she could see in front of her.

"You okay back there? What happened?"

"Nothing Dad. Sorry, just got a little sick."

"Shoot, did you—"

"I didn't have anything, but the yellow cooler that's back here—"

"—all go in there?"

"I may have missed it at first…but for the most part, yeah. Sorry."

"It's okay Bec. We'll clean it up, don't worry about it."

How could she be expected to worry about that? How would she even have the time to clean this up? It was still dark outside, and very cold. The heater had not caught up to them yet, simply because they left the Patient Family House like…5 minutes ago?

It was clear, and tasteless. Liquid almost. That made sense. There was to be 'no eating after midnight' before the surgery. But why metal? Was it blood? Maybe there was some blood that came up. Beca looked down at the small yellow cooler, looked inside of it. No, it was still clear—at least what she could make out in the cold darkness.

"You needed to turn left, there."

"Shoot!"

Of all things, Beca's dad never seemed to curse around her. He was a dick for leaving her behind, all those years ago, but for some reason, he wasn't truly a dick. Maybe she had been a little too hard on him. He had been here for this, after all. Even the "step-monster" Sheila was there, sitting shotgun. It never occurred to Beca why she didn't get shotgun this morning. No one offered. Why was such a childish thought surfacing right this second? Oh well. She couldn't be mad at her step-mom either, for she was here too, right? As distant as the two ladies were from each other, she came to help. Her dad couldn't do this by himself. Beca knew that.

Beca pulled out her cellphone. Her last contact with 'the others'—the others referring to her friends who had to work today. Her friends that knew what was happening today, but couldn't physically be there. The hospital was about 2 hours away, anyway. But it was a good one. Considered the best. She smiled weakly, knowing that some weren't even waking up yet for work. Damn them! She wanted to send something out. Nothing morbid, or dramatic. She didn't want to be "that person."

She had been relatively private about the entire endeavor. When she was diagnosed 2 years ago, until now, she barely said anything. She was used to the headaches, so she knew how to deal with the pain when she laughed too hard. She became quieter, less active, and distant. She drew her limits after the official news from the doctor. She didn't want to be "that person" advertising their struggle, their pain, and their fear. She couldn't. Perhaps it would make it more real? She also just believed people had it worse. So no big.

Four little hearts. Four little hearts of a different color. Red, yellow, purple, then green. She didn't know why she didn't snag the little blue one too. She sent four little hearts to those few friends who were out there for her. That's all she had time to send. They were at the hospital in less than 15 minutes, despite her dad getting a little turned around.

That was the benefit of the Patient Family House. Very close to the hospital. It was like a hotel, but a hotel specific to the hospital. A hotel specifically for families who were having their loved ones stay in the hospital for a bit of time. It was a creepy son of a bitch, Beca will admit that. When they checked-in yesterday, Martha Stewart herself appeared and gave them a tour of the house, and a gift bag saying 'hey, feel better, here's some candy.'

She didn't sleep, even though she picked up a quart of her favorite ice cream, and a DJ Daily magazine, she couldn't turn her mind off. Her dad and her step-mom stayed on their side of the room and kept quiet. They were worried that anything they would say would set Beca off. So they chatted quietly to each other, as Beca put on her new wireless headphones. She tried. She really did. Then midnight hit. No more ice cream. No more anything.

As a result of not sleeping, she was the first to get out of bed. Technically she could have stayed in bed until roughly 5:45am, but she was restless. She was moving around quietly at 4:30am. She was supposed to shower before checking in to the surgical wing. She had specific instructions to wash only with DIAL Gold soap. Even her hair. Specifically, the incision site. So she took that bar of soap and rubbed it hard against the back of her head.

"I love you, you'll do great" was the first text she received. Then they slowly came rolling in. Unsure if she was waking up her friends, she smiled, nevertheless.

"See you after!"

"Your brain will kick ass!"

"Prayers and healing thoughts."

"Praying God guides your surgeon's hands this morning."

She had support. She did. She was grateful. But they weren't the ones about to leap, here. Quit being dramatic, Mitchell, she reminded herself. As she clicked off her phone, she looked out the window. The glowing lights were already in sight.

"Surgical Services."

They were pulling up to one of the closest parking spots at the top of the hospital deck. Beca grabbed her phone one last time to check for a message from someone specific, but she did not have anything new. "She's not awake yet." Beca murmured.

"What Bec?"

"—Nothing, sorry."

Beca knew she had to put her things away now. She turned off her phone and looked at it as they parked the car. She shifted uneasily around the contents in the yellow bag, and opened her door to get out. It was so fucking cold this morning. Beca stood there, crossing her arms as her dad and step-mom moved around quickly, picking up bags, checking if they had the paperwork, IDs, everything. Beca didn't move. She looked up at the stars still in the sky as the two of them took care of matters for her.

She got lost in a trail of twinkling lights—her mind surprisingly blank. She was almost stoic. Nothing seemed to make any sense.

"Okay. That's everything."

Beca snapped back down, and nodded to her dad, who put his arm around her. They walked up to the building, and entered through the glass doors. Beca didn't have her bag, not yet. She would hopefully get that later, in her room afterward. It was just her, and her PJs. She walked in feeling strange, seeing adults walking around with their coffees, smiling, talking about what their shift might hold today.

"See Bec? Just a regular day. This is their job." Her dad chimed in, seeing that his daughter was looking around a little anxious-like.

They moved through the main lobby and down the hall. They got quite familiar with where to go yesterday in pre op. Soon they all three walked into a large waiting area. Families were slowly forming in different groups of chairs. Beca was starting to feel nauseous again. Maybe she developed the stomach bug! Maybe she had a virus and they couldn't operate today! Maybe this won't happen today!

"—Where should we sit?" Her step-mom asked, somehow directed at Beca.

"I don't know, that's up to you guys." Beca shot back.

Admittedly she felt a little guilty for snapping, but it was true. She wouldn't be sitting there. Waiting.

Things moved quickly at this point. She went to the front desk, checked in, and got her bracelet on her wrist. She was then given a pager that would blink when they were ready for her. A nurse would be instructed to collect her pager at the "big doors." From that point, she would be led back to get changed into her gown, and put in her bed. She would then wait for her IV to be started, and then 'go time' at 8:30am.

"Why did we have to check in at 6:30?" Beca asked quietly.

"Wednesdays the surgeons have a conference first thing in the morning. But don't worry, baby, you're the first scheduled."

Beca liked how the older woman at the desk already gave her a pet name. Was that specifically designed to make her feel less nervous?

"How long should we be waiting?" Her dad asked.

"A nurse will find you and keep you updated, sugar."

Why did he get a pet name too?

"Is there anything we need to know before we send your paperwork back?"

"—I'm feeling nauseous."

"Have you thrown up today?"

"Yes, on the way here actually."

"Did you eat anything after midnight?"

"No. No, but I had some ice cream close to that time, if that helps…"

"No baby, that's fine. Do you think it's just nerves?"

"M-maybe. I guess. I don't know."

"I think so. You should be fine; they will check your vitals back there."

Fuck.

The three nodded and slowly went and sat down. Beca was cold again. She was wearing her Katy Perry zip-up hoodie…one that she bought last summer at the PRISM Concert. She didn't know why she loved Katy Perry so much—but the trip was incredibly fun. Her first time to Nashville, to really see where music was. She put up the hood to her sweatshirt. She looked in front of her and saw several people in wheelchairs, and casts. She wasn't. In fact she was walking around just fine. How strange.

Another strange thing was the blinking red orb in her lap.

"That's us." Her dad said.

"Right." Beca murmured.

"That was fast." Sheila said.

Beca picked up her pager and stood up. She removed her hood and looked at them both. She didn't cry. They didn't cry. They hugged awkwardly. They stayed, and she went forward. Nothing more than that. Nothing dramatic. They expected this part.

Beca held out her pager as she moved toward the front desk again to show them that she was being called.

"Thank you baby and best wishes." The woman motioned to her right where "the big doors" were. Like she was told, there stood a single nurse in pale green scrubs.

Beca was surprised at how the nurse's red hair popped in contrast to the faded green.