Beca and Chloe sit side by side on a bench at the airport in Atlanta. Beca's leg has been bouncing anxiously for the past twenty minutes and it's driving Chloe absolutely insane. She places a hand on the other woman's knee in an effort to relax her, and it works for a brief moment, but it isn't long before the limb is shaking once more. She sighs, annoyed, and removes her hand in favor of pulling it roughly through her hair.

"Are you sure you want to go? I mean, we don't have to. It's just my mom. She'll understand." Beca asks for what feels like the thirtieth time.

"Of course I want to go, Beca. You met my parents, and I've already met your dad. I want to meet your mom, too." The redhead takes hold of her girlfriend's hand and links their fingers together, squeezing them lightly. "Gosh, I'm beginning to think you're ashamed of me or something," she teases.

Eyes wide, the brunette stammers, "N-no! Not at all! Why would you think-"

Chloe rolls her eyes. "Beca, relax. I was kidding."

"O-oh. Yeah, I…I knew that. I was just testing you," Beca replies, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly.

"Right. So why are you so worried about this? You said it yourself that your mom would love me. So what's the problem?"

Glancing at the people surrounding them self-consciously, the shorter girl sighs. "I'm not worried about her not liking you, okay?"

It dawns on Chloe what the younger girl is implying, and she chuckles. "Seriously? You're worried that I won't like her? She's your mom, Beca, and you adore her. Of course I'm going to love her," she promises, reassuring smile on her lips.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

They arrive in Portland, Oregon at around six in the afternoon. They grab their suitcases from the baggage claim before heading outside to the drop off/pick up area in search of Beca's mother.

A sign catches Chloe's eye and she tugs on her girlfriend's sleeve, pointing at the sign holder, giggling as she asks, "Is that her?"

Beca's face flushes a brilliant shade of red as she mutters, "Damn it, mom," under her breath and pulls her laughing girlfriend through the crowd of people. As they reach the older Mitchell woman, Beca whines, "Mom, for fuck's sake, I told you not to call us that!" She snatches the sign that says "BECHLOE" in large letters and hides it under her arm, mortified.

Her mom laughs heartily. "Sorry, baby girl, I couldn't resist," she says unapologetically before turning to the redhead and extending a hand and adding, "And you must be Chloe. I'm Elizabeth, Beca's mother. But you can call me Liz. It's very nice to meet you, Chloe; I've heard so much about you. Beca literally never stops talking about you. It's just about the cutest thing in the universe." The brunette groans and covers her face with her hands, a blush on her cheeks. Chloe and Liz fall into a fit of giggles at the other girl's embarrassment.

"It's nice to meet you, too, Liz. I've heard a lot about you as well. Beca tells me a lot of stories of your adventures together."

"Ugh, come on, you two. You can bond over my humiliation when we get home," the shorter girl grumbles, grabbing the handle of their two suitcases and stalking off.

"Hey, Beca!"

"What?" Beca snaps.

"The car's this way," Liz laughs, pointing in the opposite direction.

"Oh. I knew that. I was just-"

"Testing us, we know."

By the time they reach the Mitchell home, Beca's discomfort has dissipated. The three of them are still chuckling as they push open the front door and shed their shoes and jackets. "Oh god, Beca, remember when you were six and you had that – oh my god, it was the cutest thing, I wish I still had it – that adorable little army man costume that you'd wear everywhere? You'd only take it off to take baths; I had to wait until you fell asleep to take it off of you to wash it!"

"Yeah, I remember that. I wanted to be a soldier, just like my Uncle Gary. He had to buy me the tiniest one he could find, and even then it was too big. But I just rolled up the sleeves and the legs of my pants and toughed it out. He was super crafty, big into costume design and stuff, and he offered to fix my 'uniform,' but I wouldn't let him. I told him it made me look tough and he agreed. He made me a helmet, though, like a legit army helmet. It was the coolest thing ever. He'd take me out in the backyard and we'd go on little missions where we'd have to save civilians and stuff. It…it was awesome," Beca finishes, a trace of sadness in her voice toward the end.

Liz, sensing the change in her daughter's tone, draped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her in for a brief hug. "I know you miss him, sweetheart. We all do."

Beca smiles gratefully at her mother and nods. "I'm gonna take our stuff up to my room and then show Chloe around, okay?"

"Alright, Bee. I'll get started on some dinner," the older Mitchell woman replies, turning on her heel and retreating to the kitchen.

Beca attempts to lift both suitcases to carry them up the stairs, but they prove to be too heavy for her to carry alone and she drops them with a huff, frustrated. Chloe stifles a giggle and picks up one of the bags. "I could've gotten it, Chlo," the brunette grumbles before grabbing the other bag and leading her girlfriend up the stairs.

She kicks open her bedroom door and drops the suitcase by her bed, gesturing for the redhead to do the same. "Welcome to my childhood room. Don't judge it too harshly, okay?" Beca requests jokingly, flopping backwards on her twin-sized bed.

"I like it. It's adorable." The redhead glances around the room before her gaze settles on a row of army men on top of the dresser. She picks one up and examines it. "You were really into this whole army thing, weren't you?" She hears rustling from the bed and looks over to find her girlfriend sitting upright and patting the space in front of her. Chloe sits cross-legged next to the younger woman and waits for her to speak.

"I…My Uncle Gary was my hero. I always wanted to be just like him. He taught me how to ride a bike, how to swim, he helped me with my homework when he wasn't deployed…He even taught me how to play guitar," Beca gushes, waving at the beat up instrument in the corner. "We were really close. He was the father figure my dad never was, y'know? He was always there when I needed him. He was my best friend when I had none."

"What happened to him?"

The brunette exhales forcefully. "He-he was a sergeant in the Army. Sergeant Gary Wilson. I thought that was the coolest thing ever," she chuckles sadly. "Anyway, he was stationed in Afghanistan. He was with a couple of his guys, and they were driving back to base, or leaving base, I don't remember; but they were driving and their vehicle was hit by an RPG. They never stood a chance," Beca mumbles, voice thick with unshed tears.

Chloe wraps her arms tightly around her small girlfriend, dropping a kiss on top of her head. The younger woman doesn't cry, but she does accept the warmth and comfort of the embrace. They hold each other for several minutes before Beca finally pulls away and sniffles lightly. "Sorry about that. I don't…I haven't talked about what happened to him in a long time."

"Don't apologize, Beca. I'm glad you shared that with me. I can't imagine how hard it must've been. Or how difficult it must've been to lose him."

"Yeah, it was…It wasn't easy. I mean, my mom lost her brother; I lost my father figure, my best friend, my teacher…We lost the best man we'd ever known that day. And it was hard. But we've…we've managed. And we're better because of him, and we try to only remember the good things, y'know?"

The redhead nods, soft smile on her lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Beca replies. She studies Chloe's face for a moment, bottom lip caught between her teeth. She seems to make a decision in her head and an enthusiastic grin lights up her face, making the redhead beam as well. She leans in conspiratorially and whispers, "You wanna see something cool?" The older woman nods eagerly. Beca seizes her girlfriend's hand and pulls her up off the bed, down the stairs, and out of the house, shouting, "We'll be back in a bit, ma!"

"Where are we going, anyway?" Chloe giggles.

The brunette glances back at her, excitement in the way she moves, the way she smiles, the way she sings, "It's a secret," and then bites her lip. The taller woman is hit then with the idea of just how much she loves the small woman before her, and it very nearly knocks the wind out of her. "C'mon, Chlo!" Beca laughs, tugging her hand gently. She's so adorably silly and carefree in this moment; in the two years Chloe has known her, she has never seen her appear so much like a child, full of excitement, longing for adventure, and not feeling the weight of the world pressing down upon her. The redhead is certain that this is the happiest she's ever seen her girlfriend, and she determines that she'll have to find a way to keep this youthful part of the younger girl alive in some way.

They stop in front of a tree a couple steps into the woods behind the Mitchell house. Beca looks up, so Chloe does too. There is a fort up there, but it is painted in such a way that if a person came along who did not know it was there, they wouldn't find it. It blended with the tree well enough to be practically invisible to someone who wasn't looking for it. Beca climbs the branches into the treehouse and her girlfriend follows suit, albeit hesitantly. She was never one for climbing trees; heights weren't her favorite. The brunette spins the numbers on the combination lock on the door and removes the security device, cramming it in her pocket before gently pushing the door open and stepping inside. She offers a hand to her taller counterpart, which the latter accepts gratefully, and yanks her inside before shutting the door. They sit on the floor, face to face, and the brunette bites her lip nervously. "Do you like it?"

"Like it?" the redhead looks appalled. "I love it!"

"Yeah?" Beca inquires hopefully.

"Yes! It's so…It's so you."

The shorter girl chuckles. "Uncle Gary and I built it together when my dad left. It's my secret spot, my place to get away from everything. My mom knows where it is for safety reasons, but he's the only other one who's been up here."

"Really?"

"Yeah. After he died…After he died, I spent a lot of time up here. This is where we'd hang out, y'know? And I just…I always felt like he was with me when I was up here. So this is pretty much where I lived from ten to twelve. As I got older, I felt his presence less and less, and when I was twelve I started getting really depressed, and I was so mad at him for leaving me and not being around to help me through it, and I didn't come back for a long time. The last time I was up here before now was right before I left for Barden."

Chloe lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Why did you bring me up here?" she asks curiously.

"Because I love you. And…I trust you. With my quirks and my secrets and my heart. With everything. I trust you. And although that scares the living shit out of me, it mainly just makes me really, really happy. Because…Because you're a lot like him. Your personalities are so similar and I was immediately drawn to you because of that. And I feel safe and happy with you because of that. You're just like my Uncle Gary, and I brought you here because I want this place to be as bright and happy a memory as it used to be."

Tears slide down the redhead's cheeks and she lunges at her girlfriend, enveloping her in a tight hug and muttering, "I love you so much, Beca Leigh Mitchell."

Beca smiles and mumbles, "Wow, did you really just middle-name me?"

"Yes."

"Does that mean you're serious?"

"Dixie Chicks serious."

Beca laughs. "Goof. I love you, too." The taller girl releases the brunette and wipes her tearstained face with her sleeves, and the small girl looks around, nostalgic. She spots something and cries out, effectively startling Chloe. "Oh my god, my helmet! I wondered where this went!" The younger woman puts the helmet on her head with an excited grin. "How do I look?"

The redhead licks her lips and answers, "You look sexy."

"Yeah? Take a picture, I wanna see." Chloe snaps a photo with her cell phone and shows Beca the picture. "Damn, you're right; I look good."

The redhead hums her agreement. "So, how long do you think it'll take your mom to cook dinner?"

The shorter woman shrugs. "I don't know. Hour maybe? Why?"

"What do you say we do a little role-play, Lieutenant Mitchell?"