OOM: This is real.

[little_pieces_of_time]

(from here)



Max had to pause as she followed Chloe into her room. The room that had been as familiar to her as her own childhood bedroom had... changed.

Chloe didn't look back at her as she moved to sit on her bed, but knew what had to be going through Max's mind. "My room looks a bit different than the last time you saw it."

Max offered a hesitant smile, as though the anger behind the clutter and graffiti in this once-familiar and cozy space hadn't fazed her. "It's cool. At least we can chill out."

"This isn't exactly my 'chill-out zone'... My step-führer makes sure of that," Chloe remarked, dry, moving to roll herself a blunt. "Come in and close the door. Put on some music while I medicate."

Max couldn't exactly hide how the state of Chloe's room affected her as she searched for where this new Chloe kept her CDs: the favorite desk she and Chloe had painted bright blue as children was now piled with beer bottles, dirty ashtrays, crumpled receipts, parking tickets and other trash; the height chart William had dutifully measured each birthday for them both was scrawled over with profanity; the once-cheerful plaid curtain in yellow and blue replaced by a tattered and inverted American flag.

Chloe must have seen how it all affected her. "So tell me," she remarked, as though unaffected by Max's reaction, "what does Max Caulfield do for fun now that she's a grown-up?"

"I don't feel grown up," Max admitted, coming close to the side of the bed. It had always been easier to be honest with Chloe. "Just more confused as I get older. Especially after today..." She had almost told Warren, earlier. Could she tell Chloe?

"Gee, thanks," Chloe rolled her eyes, sarcastically. "And here I was, hoping to hear something positive."

...Probably not.

"About me?"

"No, about me." Chloe scoffed, her momentarily open expression closing off again as she took another pull. "Duh, about you. I thought you'd at least be happy taking photos... Ugh. Just forget it."

Max pressed her lips together, mildly stung. Chloe seemed so closed, but there seemed to be an opportunity to change that, at least for a little while. On an impulse, she lifted her hand, concentrated, and pulled herself backwards through the last few moments. The deeply unhappy set to Chloe's mouth and eyes was just as unhappy in reverse.

"-do for fun now that she's a grown-up?"

Max made herself smile at Chloe, tilting her head. "I take photos," she replied, more confident than she felt. "Of me, the world, everything. It may sound sad, but I have a blast."

"It doesn't sound that sad at all," Chloe chuckled, her eyes lifting to meet Max's gaze.

"I'm happiest when I've got a great image in my lens," Max added, thinking of the younger Chloe's endless encouragement of her friend's artistic hopes, years ago. "Not lonely, not afraid..."

Chloe gave a faint smile, recognizing the reference. "Now that's more inspiring. I don't feel so totally hopeless. But how about that music?"

"Ah," Max chuckled, hesitantly. "Still looking."

She couldn't quite pretend the unfamiliar mess wasn't daunting. Chloe's room had always been such a cozy refuge. The once-loved desk turned out to be bereft of music, as did the dresser (so many t-shirts of punk bands Max had never heard of), and the closet.

Max was about ready to give up when she noticed the metal box under the foot of the bed. Pulling it out and opening it revealed CDs! Success! But before she closed the box, Max found her attention caught unexpectedly by the photo which had been underneath the CDs. It was the image of Rachel Amber that had been gracing all of the missing person's posters littered all around Blackwell campus. Unthinking, Max pulled the photo out, unfolding the creased print to reveal the other side: Chloe with her arm around Rachel's shoulders, flipping off the camera.

Chloe leaned suddenly from the other side of the bed, snatching the photo out of Max's hand. "Hey! That's mine!"

"Sorry!" Max put her hands up, wide-eyed. Chloe knew Rachel Amber? "I wasn't trying to be nosy! O-Obviously, she was a good friend."

Chloe didn't seem to notice Max's unthinking past-tense as she settled at the foot of the bed next to Max. Her tone as she looked at the photo was dry, "That's putting it mildly."

Max gazed at Chloe. From her sharp initial reaction, this had to be approached... delicately.

"That's... Rachel Amber," she said, hesitant. Chloe already knew that, obviously. So Max shouldn't pretend not to know who was in that photo, or hide how she knew. "Her missing person posters are all over Blackwell."

Chloe nodded, looking down unhappily at the photo. "Yeah, I put them up," she replied. "She was my angel."

She must have known how odd that sounded, because after a moment she added. "After my dad died and you moved, I felt abandoned. Rachel saved my life."

"Man, I had no idea," Max admitted. Though the missing person posters had been in the background since she started at Blackwell, she had only really learned anything about Rachel Amber today.

"Well, you never made much effort to find out." Chloe wasn't about to let Max off the hook that easily. "I was 14, Max. We were best friends."

Max ducked her head, genuinely contrite. "I never forgot. Even if I was an asshole and didn't keep in touch." And now she owed Rachel for saving Chloe's life when Max wasn't there for her. "But, at least you had Rachel?"

Chloe leaned back on her hands, a sadly wistful note entering her tone. "Rachel had my back. We were gonna kick the world's ass. You would laugh at how different we were... She wanted to be a star."

"She looks like a model," Max agreed. Rachel Amber was beautiful, and clearly confident in the way she held herself. Speaking of how different one person can be to another.

"That was her plan. Our plan. Get the hell out of Bigfootville and into Los Angeles. But... six months ago, she just...left Arcadia. Disappeared. Without a word. Without...me."

Max shrugged uncomfortably, thinking of how the Blackwell students had spoken of her. "Maybe she wanted to start a totally new life..."

"Unlike you, she would've told me, okay?" Chloe interrupted, sharp. "Something happened to her."

"I believe you," Max replied, quick but gentle. "I'm just trying to get all deductive."

Chloe shook her head, trying to pretend her voice wasn't starting to shake. "Just before Rachel left, she said she met somebody who changed her life. Wouldn't say who it was. Then, poof."

Max looked, but Chloe wasn't looking at her any more, her eyes shaded and gaze cast down at the photo. "And you haven't heard anything from her since?"

"Like everybody in my life. My dad, you...and now Rachel. Gone..." Chloe shook herself as though trying to shed the dark cast of her thoughts, turning away and trying to hide the break in her voice. "Can you put on some music now?"


Max would have said Santa Monica Dream was an unfortunate song to start with, but it seemed not to affect Chloe, who waved Max away unhappily. "Anyway. You can find tools to fix your camera in the garage. You know the way."

She would be the first to admit she wasn't good at reading people, but Max couldn't help but ask. "You okay?"

"Sure. I'm awesome," Chloe answered, toneless and flat, then relented a little at the concern on Max's face. "I just want to blaze and be alone for a moment."

~*~*~*~

Max closed the door quietly behind her as she stepped back out into the hall, then moved to go down the stairs. I haven't seen this place in five years. Feels like forever, but it doesn't seem to have changed at all. Her thoughts quickly amended themselves upon seeing the array of hunting photos that certainly hadn't been on the living room walls when William had been alive. No, it has changed. Just like Chloe.

She didn't linger long in the clean kitchen and living room, though she felt a pang of nostalgia seeing the ancient swingset that had once served as their childhood pirate ship and base of operations in the backyard. But the Price household, or whatever it was called since Joyce had remarried, no longer felt as friendly or welcoming as it once had. After so much time and change, Max knew she was a stranger there.

The garage was likewise changed. Much of the space was taken up by an antique muscle car, apparently in the process of being repaired. There were patches of oil or some other car-liquid - Max wasn't sure what - on the garage floor in places, making Max take care of where she stepped. Was the car a pet project of Chloe's "step-douche"? Probably. All the... canned goods on the shelves were probably his, as well. William and Joyce had never been what one could call 'preppers,' so... another quirk of Joyce's second husband? The gun-cases along the wall were likely Chloe's step-dad's, as well. Ugh. She wasn't sure she would ever be comfortable around guns ever again, after today.

With a jolt, Max noticed one of the handguns was missing from its rack. Was he the kind of guy to just casually carry a firearm, then? Max shivered.

Not sure where she would find the tools she needed, Max began checking drawers in the workbench. They were a mess of loose nails, bolts, screws of many sizes, and loose tools. Far too large to help her. Instead of finding anything that looked likely to help her, though, in one of them she found something that made the bottom drop out of her stomach. Chloe's stepfather's ID badge... as head of Blackwell Security.

Chloe's step-dad is David Madsen?? That asshole who wants to put surveillance cameras all over Blackwell? No way. You have got to be shitting me. Doubly-certain now that the last thing she wanted was to get caught looking through Chloe's step-father's things, Max quickly put the badge back, closed the drawer, and went back to looking.

None of the drawers had anything like the tiny tools she needed, so Max opened the cabinet above the workbench next. A map of Blackwell and a tv? Uh, weird. Max wasn't sure about the wisdom of this choice, but nosiness (and perhaps the knowledge that she could rewind if she got caught) won out quickly, and she reached up to turn on the small TV screen.

"What the-" Max stepped back in shock as she realized what she was seeing. Every few seconds the view shown on the screen changed. The upstairs landing... the house's entryway... the kitchen... the living room... the backyard... the backyard from a different angle... the driveway... "How paranoid can you get? Chloe's dad actually installed surveillance cameras around the house?"

...Did Chloe or Joyce know about the cameras? Max couldn't imagine that they did. Neither of them would like the idea, and Chloe especially wouldn't stand for it. And the house... the house was Joyce's, not David's. Max couldn't imagine Joyce agreeing to this.

"That is seriously messed up," she remarked to no one, quickly turning off the hated screen again. Before she could close the cabinet, though, she noticed a file placed on top of the TV. Fearing some other trespass by David Madsen, Max reached for it without thinking, but couldn't get a good grip on the surprisingly full folder. Shit! Butterfingers- The folder fell, landing open in one of the shallow puddles of engine oil near the car, and spilling... photos of Kate Marsh across the floor?

"What? Why would he have pictures of her?" Max muttered, kneeling to see the photos - clearly taken around Blackwell campus without Kate's knowledge. "That is so creepy. Oh, shit-"

She couldn't just put the folder back now - oil was soaking into the paper. Once more, Max lifted her hand, concentrated, and pulled herself backwards through time. Seemingly of its own volition, the folder lifted into the air - the photos flying back into their orderly stack within it - and returned, clean, to its place on the high shelf. Just for good measure, Max rewound a little further, to see the cabinet door close, untouched.

The knowledge of the photos and the surveillance cameras around the house weighing heavily on her mind - shit, he's going to know I was in here! - Max continued her search for the tools. Ah! She spotted a small screwdriver set that looked like just what she needed, up on top of the stacked washer and dryer, well out of her reach. But... hmmm. Well, that looked like the same washer and dryer set that William had never gotten to completely balance, five years ago.

Watching the precariously-perched screwdriver set, Max turned on the dryer. Bingo! The off-balance vibration of the appliance tipped the set over the edge and sent it tumbling down... to fall underneath the workbench. Still out of reach, just now in a different way. Damn. How can she...

Ah! Max spotted a much-creased, mostly-flat piece of aged cardboard among the scraps near the workbench, which would meet her needs perfectly. Max lifted her hand and drew herself back through time once more. The screwdriver set tumbled in reverse from under the workbench and flung itself back up to the top edge of the dryer. Max relaxed back into the regular flow of time, feeling the start of a headache and hoping all this effort would be worth it. She moved to scoot the piece of cardboard under low bottom shelf of the workbench, where the screwdrivers had fallen and - presumably - would again. When she turned on the dryer this time, Max was gratified to watch the screwdrivers land squarely on the piece of cardboard, which was was able to pull out to retrieve the tools.

Yes! You have mad skillz, Max, she thought, claiming her prize. Now to get back to Chloe before she freaks.

Once back up the stairs, though, Max paused. There are surveillance cameras all over the house. Even if he wouldn't see her discovering the cameras or going through his files, David Madsen would know she had been in his space. Concentrating, Max put her hand out, and pulled herself back though her time in the garage. The small screwdriver set dug into her palm as she felt her other self search backwards through the drawers of the garage workbench, felt herself walk backwards through the living room and entryway and backwards up the stairs. Just before she intersected with the undone time, though, the headache suddenly flared into searing pain and the edges of her vision seemed to melt and burn, making her stop rewinding suddenly.

Max sat suddenly on the top step of the stairs, fighting the feeling of distortion. It took her a while to get her heartrate under control and for the seemingly burnt edges of her vision and the searing headache to subside. Okay. So. What have we learned, Max?

There's a pretty hard limit for how far back she can rewind.

Good to know.

Ow.

~*~*~*~

Chloe looked up as Max re-entered her room. 'You found the tools? Sweet. You can sit at my desk and fix your camera."

She sounded... better, or at least less on-edge emotionally. Max sat at the desk by the window, and carefully removed her broken camera and latest photos from their jumble in her bag. Working carefully, she worked to remove the outer shell and pieces to get at the inner workings.

It didn't take long for her to find the broken lens. Wondering just how she was going to explain the need for a new instamatic camera to her parents and caught up in actual grief for the 'death' of her camera. Max threw the tiny screwdriver back on the desk and slumped back in the chair.

Chloe looked over at her, "So?"

"I can't fix this thing," Max shook her head, rubbing at her eyes with the heels of her palms as Chloe got up off the bed and came over.

"Are these your new photos?" Chloe asked, picking up a small stack and looking through them.

"Yeah," Max nodded. How the hell was she going to explain to her parents the need for yet another expensive purchase? Right after they got contacted by the principal about their daughter 'lying.' "I just took them today."

"Wait. I've seen this before." Chloe's tone made Max look up. Chloe was practically shaking with surprise. In her hand was the photo of the blue butterfly on the edge of the bucket in the Blackwell bathrooms. "No way! When did you take this? You took this photo, you brat? In the bathroom today... You set off the alarm! That's why Nathan raged after you... It totally makes sense."

Chloe stared at Max. "You hella saved my life."

Max looked up at her, not sure how to react. But Chloe still knew how Max looked when she was trying to avoid getting in trouble.

"Now tell me the truth, Max."

The trouble of having good friends.

"I was there," Max admitted, "hiding in the corner."

"Damn. You're a ninja."

Max scoffed, shaking her head. "A ninja would have cut Nathan's head off. I just took a butterfly photo."

But Chloe was delighted. "That is so badass."

Max rolled her eyes. "Yeah right, I almost wet myself when I saw the gun."

Chloe tilted her head at Max, eyebrows raised. "So, did you recognize me?"

No, she hadn't. Not in the slightest. But she couldn't tell Chloe that.

"I wasn't sure."

Chloe chuckled, and Max knew she saw right through her. "I know I look a lot different."

"I was scared, too. I couldn't see straight."

"I don't blame you, Max."

Max shook her head. "Like you said, it's been that kind of day."

Messy, chaotic, scary. In so many ways.

Chloe wasn't done pressing, though. "So you must have overheard our conversation."

Max could still hear Nathan's threats echoing in her head. "Just a bit..."

But Chloe wasn't buying it. "There is no way you didn't hear every single vowel."

"Okay," Max relented. "But I only heard something about money...drugs...but that's it."

"Uh-huh." Chloe eyed her. "Now for the big question: did you tell anybody?"

"Absolutely," Max was surprised Chloe would even ask. "Nathan Prescott had a fucking gun on you." Chloe of course wouldn't know it but she died. Did die, could have died, would have died. But didn't. Max doesn't want that to happen ever again.

"Gutless prick," Chloe remarks, dismissively, but admits, "It was scary. Who did you tell?"

"The principal...but he didn't seem to believe me."

"The principal?" It was Chloe's turn to sound disbelieving. "Are you still twelve? That drunk jackass only cares about cash for Blackwell Academy. Don't trust him."

It wasn't as though Chloe were wrong about any of that. "I didn't mention you at all. Swear."

"Thank God..." Chloe relents, shaking her head. "I'll tell you more someday, promise. But... I seriously owe you, Max."

A thought seemed to strike Chloe then, and she stepped away to the bookcase overstuffed and messy with mostly things other than books, and squatted to search. After a moment, she grabbed something stuffed on top of a slump of magazines and brought it back to Max.

"I, er, know it was your birthday last month... This was my real father's camera." She offered Max the old-fashioned instamatic - the 'newer' model blue and white where Max's camera had been yellow and brown. "I want you to have it."

Max was surprised and delighted, but that camera was something from Chloe's father, William, and... his loss had had such a terrible effect on Chloe. "That's so cool you remembered my birthday. But I can't take this-"

"Of course you can," Chloe pressed the camera into Max's hands, holding it to make sure Max accepted. "My dad would be pissed if I never used it. And now I know it will be used awesomely."

Once she was sure Max wouldn't just drop the poor thing, Chloe took her hands away and snatched up the photo of the butterfly from the desk.

"You use dad's camera in your art, and I'll snag this picture as a symbol of our reunion. Cool?"

Max chuckled, overwhelmed. "Yes, of course it's cool! Thank you... This camera is so sweet."

"Now that we got the mushy shit out of the way," Chloe laughed, pushing away the sincerity and vulnerability of the previous moments as she hopped the chair over to the stereo, and cranked up something loud with a beat. "I feel like stage diving! Let's thrash this place!"

Max couldn't help but grin, "You're crazy." Chloe grabbed her hands and pulled her up to dance.

"Yep, yep, I'm fucking insane on the brain! Let's dance, little miss wallflower! Shake that bony white ass!" Chloe jumped up on her bed to dance and pose. "Or, you know, take my picture with your new camera!"

The flash of Max's camera just made Chloe dance more, some of the unstifled cheerfulness Max remembered from when they were younger shining through. "Hell yeah, this song fucking rules! Can't dance, hippie? Come on! Rock out, girl! Yes! Break it down, Max!"

Muffled by the music, Max heard a door slam somewhere downstairs, and the voice of David Madsen filtering up the stairwell. "Chloe, are you up there? How many times have I told you to stop blasting that punk shit?"

The effect on Chloe was instant. In a flash she was off the bed, gesturing frantically to Max. "Turn it off- turn it off!"

Max, heart in her mouth from the sudden spike of anxiety that seemed to always happen when David was involved, was quick to turn off the stereo. Chloe's tone turned dismissive and laid-back as she called back to David, "Dude, the music's not even on!"

It didn't work. "I'm coming up. We need to talk!"

Max had seen Chloe scared in the girls bathroom; she saw it again now as Chloe scrambled to lean hard against the bedroom door. "No fucking way! Max, you need to hide. Now! My stepdad will kill me if he finds you here!"

"Chloe, what's going on?" From the other side, the door shook as David tried the doorknob. "Open the door."

Chloe tried to sound nonchalant as she called back. "Chill, I'm changing, is that okay?"

"I'm not screwing around soldie- Chloe. Open this door now."

Urgent, leaning hard against the door, Chloe whispered, "Max, find a place to hide, NOW!"

Max scrambled to find a place to hide - there was no room under the bed - that really only left the closet. Her haste made her clumsy, and Chloe's snow globe - the one with the deer she'd had forever, Max knew - fell from the shelf and shattered on the floor. Her whispered "Sorry! Sorry!" was mostly lost against the background booms of David yelling from the hall, grimacing in guilt before realizing - wait no, she could fix this. A quick rewind left the snow doe back on its shelf, and Max only a little dizzy. Max quickly scooted the snow doe away from the edge before opening the closet this time, and slipped inside and slid the door shut just as David shoved the door open.

"What's going on in here?" he demanded, entering the room and looking around. Max held her hand over her nose and mouth to hopefully muffle the sound of her quick breaths.

Chloe was angry, but tried to pass it off as just annoyance. "Jesus, I'm just trying on clothes. You're so friggin' paranoid."

David glanced at Chloe, his attention still mostly on the room. "Yeah. Combat? Will do that to you." After a moment, he got to his point. "One of my guns is missing. Did you take it?"

"Oh, God," Chloe rolled her eyes. "I didn't take your stupid gun. You do know I believe in gun control?"

David's gaze was still searching the room despite Chloe's efforts to distract him - Max could only hope he didn't notice or wonder about the disassembled camera and photos on the desk by the window. Her heart nearly stopped when David stepped forward towards the desk, but his hand came back up with Chloe's half-smoked joint instead. "Wait, is that grass? You've been toking up again in here?"

Chloe shook her head, disgust in her tone. "Oh yeah, guns, weed... You're trippin' balls."

"I am sick of your disrespect!" David said, bringing the joint up close to Chloe's face. "Tell me the truth, that's an order!"

Chloe wouldn't back down. "Stop treating me and mom like we're your family platoon."

"Hey, leave Joyce out of this."

"I wish you'd leave Joyce," Chloe retorted, flat. "Like now."

Max bit her hand to keep from gasping as David slapped Chloe across the face.

He looked immediately remorseful, but the damage was done. "Chloe, I'm sorry. I care about your mother and... You just keep pushing me."

Chloe moved away, sitting on the bed and keeping her hand to her stinging cheek. "Don't touch me again, asshole. That's the last time. Or I'll bring the cops in here so fast..."

David shook his head, snorting. "You're not that dumb. Chloe... Someday you're going to have to grow up."

Without another word, David left the room, closing the door behind him. Cautiously, Max emerged from the closet to check on Chloe. "Hey, you okay?"

Chloe looked up, sounding ashamed and annoyed and hurt. "Well... Welcome to "The Real Step-Douches of Arcadia Bay," I guess."

Max winced. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Chloe shrugged. "He would've just been a bigger dick if he caught you in here."

"That's hard to believe," Max replied, thinking. What if she had stepped in? Would... would she have been able to prevent David from hitting Chloe?

"Anyway," Chloe shook her head, getting up. "Let's sneak out the window...there is at least one cool place we can hang in this hick-hole."

Watching Chloe climb out through the window, Max couldn't help but wonder. What if... No, she has to know. Max held out her hand, concentrated, and pulled herself back through time. In reverse, Chloe climbed back through the window, David re-entered the room, the slap to Chloe's face was taken back, words were unspoken, and the door closed behind him again as he walked backwards through it. Max relaxed.

"-pen this door NOW."

"Chill, I'm changing! Okay?" Chloe turned to Max, whispering, "Max, find a place to hide, NOW!"

Max hesitated, then stepped forward to grab Chloe's hand, shaking her head quietly. "No, I'll stay."

Surprised, Chloe stepped away from the door at Max's urging, letting David burst in. "What's going on in here?" he demanded, entering the room and looking around. "Why is she here? I don't like strangers in my house."

"Stop freaking," Chloe replied, shortly, "she's not a stranger. This is my friend."

David was not impressed. "Great, another one of your 'friends.'"

David glanced at Chloe, his attention still mostly on the room. "One of my guns is missing. Did you take it?"

"Oh, God," Chloe rolled her eyes. "I didn't take your stupid gun. You do know I believe in gun control?"

David's eyes narrowed; he stepped forward to the desk and came back with Chloe's half-smoked joint held in his fingers. "Wait, is that grass? You've been toking up again in here?"

Chloe shook her head, disgust in her tone. "Oh yeah, guns, weed... You're trippin' balls."

"I am sick of your disrespect!" David said, bringing the joint up close to Chloe's face. "Tell me the truth, that's an order!"

Max looked to Chloe to see what she would say - hoping it wouldn't lead to David hitting her.

"It's not my pot," Chloe denied quickly, shaking her head, "it's from Max!"

Wait, what? Max looked at Chloe, panicking slightly as David rounded on her. "Is this true?"

Max shook her head and backed up as David came entirely too close, holding her hands up in front of her. "What? N-No way! It's not mine. I don't even smoke."

David scoffed, irritated as he turned to look at Chloe. "Of course not. I'm sure Chloe gets all the best shit, right? I bet she gave you "good friend" rates."

"Why don't you get off my crack, man?" Chloe stepped up, angry. "Stop taking your war-rage out on high school girls."

"You haven't seen rage, you little—"

"Fuck you, pig."

This time, Max's gasp was absolutely audible as David slapped Chloe across the face.

Chloe stepped away, sitting on the end of the bed and holding the stinging side of her face with her hand, silent. David, for his part, looked embarrassed, if not entirely remorseful. "I... Listen, you asked for that. You know exactly what you're doing."

He looked at Max, face darkening again. "I can already tell from today that you're trouble, Max. I hope this doesn't affect your status at Blackwell. Don't ever come back here. And for your own good, you should stay away from Chloe. She's a loser and she'll only drag you down. Stick to doing your homework."

The click as he closes the door behind him was practically deafening.

"I-I'm sorry, Chloe," Max fumbled. "I didn't know what to do... I panicked."

Chloe shook her head, dismissively, not looking at Max as she got up. "Whatever. Everybody bails on me. Even my 'best friend' Max... Don't you? I'm so done with everyone in this town... I wish I hadn't even seen you. As if you care. Color me outta here..."

Without another word, Chloe opened the window and climbed through.

Max felt sick to her stomach and her head was throbbing. She tried to find the words to stop Chloe, to apologize properly, but nothing came out. No, no, no. This... no, she could still fix it. Holding up her hand, Max concentrated past the growing headache, and dragged herself back through time.

"-sick of your disrespect!" David said, bringing the joint up close to Chloe's face. "Tell me the truth, that's an order!"

Max looked to Chloe to see what she would say - knowing what she would say.

"It's not my pot," Chloe denied, shaking her head, "it's from Max!"

It was all Max could do to keep calm as David rounded on her. "Is this true?"

"Uh, yeah," she said, hoping she sounded convincing. "That's my pot..."

All the calm Max could muster dissipated quickly as David stepped closer to her. "So you're bringing drugs into my home. How about if I call the police? That would screw up your spotless Blackwell record... You do seem to get around, Max. I'm sick of you losers dragging Chloe down to your level."

Max's face must've shown her reaction, but she could hardly call him on his hypocrisy from another timeline. David stepped closer, angry, poking her in the shoulder. There was only so much Max could back up before she would run into the closet door, and David was too tall, too angry, too close. She couldn't think clearly. "Missy, you sure do like to pop up and start trouble. Like this afternoon. You don't have anything smart to say now? Do you? Huh?"

From behind David, Chloe pulled him back, just enough so she could get in between him and Max. "Get the hell away from her, man! Stop harassing my friends!"

David sneered. "You don't have any friends."

"Like you know. You're not even a real cop, you're a fucking security guard!"

David relented, sounding actually hurt by Chloe's words. "I was a soldier, Chloe. And Max, if I see you here again... You'll learn all about real trouble."

David left the room, accompanied by Chloe's emphatic double-bird.

Max was overwhelmed, not at all sure she had made the right decision, but Chloe was practically bubbly. "Thanks for taking the heat. We totally smacked his punk ass down, Max. He's no match for you and me now...That was an epic win!"

It was good to hear Chloe so happy, like she had won a fight, but Max wasn't sure. Her heartrate was taking its sweet time calming down again, and her head hurt like mad.

"And because you are such a badass, Max, Let me show you my new toy," Chloe grinned, holding something behind her back as she stepped towards Max. "The name's Price, Chloe Price!" Suddenly, Chloe pulled a gun from behind her back and pointed it at Max. "Bang!"

Already overwhelmed, Max reflexively pushed Chloe's hands away. "Jesus! Put that thing down!"

Chloe chuckled at Max's panic, letting the pistol dangle from her finger. "Chillax, sista. It's not even loaded...yet."

Max just felt sick. "I thought you believed in gun control."

"Oh yes, I believe I should control then gun," Chloe grinned, though some of her fervor lessened as she saw how bad Max looked. "No, it's the men who need to be checked. You trust Nathan or David? What's the problem?"

Max couldn't help but wonder if she should rewind again, and not lie for Chloe. She couldn't bear to see her friend hurt, but also knew she needed to think about her own future. Her Blackwell scholarship was the only thing allowing her to attend Blackwell at all.

"Why steal a gun from your stepdad? You know you’re going to get busted eventually."

"Or somebody like Nathan will bust me with a cap," Chloe replied, making Max flinch. "No, screw that. I need to cover my own back."

Max shuddered. "This is all just so scary."

"I know, Max," Chloe said, calming down a bit. "But I do feel safer having a nine millimeter in my pants."

Max shook her head, still upset. "Well, I don’t. Guns make me nervous. You should be playing guitar, not playing with a gun."

"When assholes stop threatening me with guns, then I’ll stop playing with mine," Chloe replied, not to be swayed.

"Your gun can’t stop a bullet in your back," Max murmured, thinking about Nathan.

"Max," Chloe reassured her, "I’m not looking for trouble. I just want protection. Anyway. Let's sneak out the window...there is at least one cool place we can hang in this hick-hole."

Chloe opened the window and climbed through; reluctantly, Max followed.

~*~*~*~

Max found herself lingering as she followed Chloe up the path to the lighthouse.

I haven't been here in forever... So why do I feel like I was just here? Whoa, this... this is the exact same path I was on during my nightmare today.

It was so different, bathed in the liquid light of the golden hour instead of darkened by the rage of a storm. Max couldn't help but smile a bit as she approached the bench near the edge, overlooking the bay and the ocean beyond. Chloe's comfortable sprawl on the bench, framed by golden light, made the perfect subject for a quick snap.

"Have a seat, Pete," Chloe gestured to the bench beside her, with good cheer.

"You're in a good mood," remarked Max, mildly surprised.

"Nah, seeing my step-dork get played makes me happy."

"I'm not as brave as you," Max admitted, with a faint chuckle. "David is indeed a 'step-douche.'"

"I'm sorry you had to experience it firsthand," Chloe shakes her head.

"You have to live with him," Max remarked, thinking of the timelines when David had slapped her. For the first time? She doubts it. "Has he always been this way?"

Chloe sighed, taking a drag on her current smoke. "Ever since my desperate mom dragged his ass to our home! I never trusted David."

"He freaked out on poor Kate Marsh today."

Chloe frowned, "I know her. She's cool. Only someone like that prick would bully her. Rambo still thinks he's gathering enemy intelligence."

"He has all these secret files in the garage. Some sort of weird agenda," Max shook her head.

Chloe glanced at Max, a faint smirk turning up the corner of her mouth. "Did you take a peek?"

"Well, yeah," Max admitted, a little awkward. "I couldn't help it."

Chloe grinned. "You're still Max Caulfield. Never change. What did you find?"

"Creepy photos of Kate Marsh...other Blackwell students..."

"The dude takes his job too seriously. Still thinks he's at war or something. He has a total surveillance fetish. I wouldn't be surprised if there were spy cams in the house."

Max blinked at her. "I knew you didn't know! Chloe, your house is under surveillance. There are cameras all over the house. I saw it on a monitor in the garage."

Chloe stared at Max, processing. "Fuck. I knew it! He is so hella fucking paranoid. Mom'd freak. But... But I'll keep this a secret for now."

"Sometimes ignorance is bliss," Max murmured, wondering if she should have mentioned the cameras at all.

"No wonder I'm so miserable," Chloe remarked, dry. "Everybody in this town knows everybody's secrets."

She wasn't wrong. But Max was out of the loop. "So, what's Nathan's secret?"

Chloe had anticipated Max asking - what secret had Chloe been holding over Nathan that could make him threaten her with a gun? "He's an elite asshole who sells bad shit cut with laxative," she replied, trying to play it off and failing, "and he dosed me with some drug in his room."

Max nearly fell off the bench. "What??"

"I met him in some shithole bar that didn't card me," Chloe says, half-annoyed and half-embarrassed. "He was too rich for the place and too wasted. And he kept flashing bills... I was an idiot. I thought he was so blazed it would be an easy score."

Max looked at her, increasingly horrified. "You needed money that bad?"

"Actually, yes," Chloe admitted. "I owe big time. And I thought I'd have enough for me and Rachel if she showed up... We went to his room at Blackwell. We drank and I laughed at his rich kid bullshit. He was one step ahead and put something in my beer..."

"God, Chloe, I can't believe this..." Max breathed, feeling sick, then amended her remark, "I mean, I do. But... then what?"

"I know I passed out on the floor. I woke up and that perv was smiling, crawling towards me with a camera..." Chloe grimaced, taking a drag on her smoke as though to try and stave off the memory. "Everything was a blur... I tried to kick him in the balls and broke a lamp. Nathan freaked, so I managed to bum rush the door and get the hell out. Max, it was insane."

Max squeezed Chloe's free hand, trying to find the words. "I am so furious I can't even speak... that absolute bastard."

"I figured I would make him pay me to keep quiet. So we met in the bathroom." Chloe sighed.

"And he brought a gun."

Chloe grit her teeth. "That was Nathan's last mistake."

"He's still dangerous, Chloe. Not just to you."

"Good thing you notified the principal, then," Chloe remarked, dry. "I feel safer already."

"I can't always be there to save you." It was a terrible thing to admit, but it was the truth, and one Max needed Chloe to know. Her head was still throbbing from the encounter with David.

"You were there today, Max," Chloe squeezed Max's hand back, smiling. "You saved me! I'm still trippin' on that! Seeing you after all these years feels like..."

Max smiled back. "Destiny?"

Chloe got up from the bench, loosening her hands from Max's, and approached the cliff. Max followed, somewhat lightheaded.

"If this is destiny, I hope we can find Rachel," Chloe admitted reluctantly, pain entering her tone. Max looked out at the town below them, the sunset light glittering honey-gold on the surface of the bay. "I miss her, Max. This shit-pit has taken away everyone I've ever loved... I'd like to drop a bomb on Arcadia Bay and turn it to fucking glass-"

Max hardly heard Chloe's remark, feeling her head swim with vertigo. Suddenly, a sharp spike of agony in her head made her double-over in pain. When she was able to straighten up, the sunset was gone. Chloe was gone. It was dark on the wooded path up to the lighthouse and around her whirled the storm, the giant, wind-whipped raindrops stinging against her face.

Oh, no! Not again... Why is this happening to me? Why am I here again? Is Chloe still up there?

Upon the path ahead of her, Max could see the transparent form of a doe, ghostly in the dark confusion of the storm. Max followed it up the path, as it led her safely past falling trees and tumbling rocks that would've certainly killed her if she had been in their way. Lightning forks above her, accompanying the turning light of the lighthouse.

Still the feeling of unreality persisted as she made her way up past the trees to the lighthouse clearing. I've never seen a storm like this in Oregon. Oh, my lord! The tornado is back! How can this be real? Oh shit!

Max stumbled back as the tornado threw what was left of a fishing boat up from the bay to crash horribly into the side of the lighthouse. She was barely able to hurry after the doe before the top of the lighthouse fell where she had been standing, taking chunks of the cliff with it. The path back down the hill was gone, now. Max grabbed onto the bench for stability, and saw the newspaper. She picked up the tattered grey paper, sopping wet and barely holding together, but the ink was still clear enough to read the headline, and more importantly, the date.

October 11th? Is this Friday? That's only four days away!

The wind rose, tearing the newspaper out of Max's hands. Max stood and watched the tornado, unable to act, unable to think, not knowing what she could hope to do against such an unstoppable force.

The tornado is headed straight for the town.

A hand suddenly landed on her shoulder, and Max found herself once again bathed in golden light of sunset, Chloe's concerned face in front of her. "Max! You okay?"

Max stumbled, falling to the ground, caught up in the panic of the impending storm. "Chloe! You're here! I'm back. Oh, my lord, this is real—it's real! Oh, man, this sucks so much! I can't-"

The concern of Chloe's face only deepened as she knelt beside her. "Max, what's going on? You totally blacked out."

Max pressed her hands to her temples, trying to quell the headache there. "I didn't black out... I had another vision. The town is going to get wiped out by a tornado."

"Oregon gets about five tornadoes every twenty years," Chloe replied, trying to reassure her. "You just zoned out."

Max grabbed her hand. "No, no, I saw it! I could actually feel the electricity in the air, the sting of the rain."

"Come on, take a breath, okay?"

To her credit, Max tried. A breath. Something to steady her. "Chloe," she said, insistent but at least a little calmer. "I'm not crazy. But there's something I have to tell you."

Chloe nodded, trying to follow. "Talk to me, Max."

"...I had this same vision earlier in class. When I came out of it, I discovered I could reverse time. Like I said: not crazy."

Chloe wasn't so sure. "Not crazy. But high, right?"

"Listen to me," Max insisted. She hadn't realized how important it was to her for Chloe to believe her. "How do you think I saved you in the bathroom?"

"By reversing time? Yeah, sure."

"I saw you get shot, Chloe. Saw you actually...die," Max's hands shook. "I was able to go back and hit the fire alarm. To distract Nathan, so you could get away."

Chloe shook her head, squeezing Max's hands and hoping Max will admit to this being a joke. "Okay, I see you're a geek now with a great imagination, but this isn't anime or a video game; people don't have those powers, Max."

Max looked at her, still hoping Chloe will believe her. "I don't know what I have, but I have it. And I'm scared shitless."

"Youuuu need to get high," Chloe said, moving to stand back up. The dismissal stung, but Max wasn't sure what to say to convince her. "It's been a hella insane fucking day."

Chloe flinched suddenly; a moment later, Max did too as something tiny and cold landed on her cheek.

"What...the hell is this?" Chloe looked up, bewildered.

"Snowflakes...?" Max touched the tiny spot of chilled water on her cheek, moving to get to her feet.

Chloe was shaken, staring; somehow, snow was falling gently through the golden light of sunset around them. "It's like...eighty degrees out here. That's impossible. How-"

"Climate change," Max muttered, "or a storm is coming."

Chloe turned to her, reaching out to take Max's hands, her eyes wide and unsure in a way so unlike the Chloe she seemed to have become in the last five years. "Okay, Max. Start from the beginning. Tell me everything."