Chapter Text
Saturday, October 12th, 2013
Reflecting on the past was something that Chloe Price had made an express effort to avoid in her life. She lived in the present—the past just depressed you, and planning ahead for the future was pointless since it would never actually happen the way you wanted it to.
But Maxine Caulfield came back into Chloe’s life five days ago, and everything had changed.
Investigations, break-ins, murder, conspiracies… and, of course, Max suddenly having the ability to turn back time itself. And it all ended with the two of them by the lighthouse, watching as a storm straight from hell bore down on the Bay. When Max had to choose.
Max made her choice—and Chloe was still here.
They’d driven all through the night. Neither one would've been able to sleep; Chloe knew that without even asking. All she cared about was putting as much distance between them and Arcadia Bay as she possibly could. No direction, no goal, just… away.
Chloe hadn't said anything since they left. Neither had Max—she was almost catatonic, staring ahead blankly at the road. Should Chloe… say something? What could she say?
“Max.”
Nothing.
“We've been driving all night. Do you want to stop?”
More nothing.
Chloe pulled the truck over at the side of the road. She had no fucking idea where they were. All she knew was that it must've been morning since she could see the sun coming up… a full day on the road after leaving Arcadia Bay. Chloe put her head against the steering wheel, tightening her fingers around it until they hurt. “Max… what the fuck do we do?”
“We can go to Seattle.” Max’s voice sounded… broken. A hollow mimicry of itself. “That's where my parents are.”
“Seattle,” Chloe repeated. “Seattle. I can do Seattle.”
The truck started again. Chloe just needed to figure out where they were, find some directions, and then they'd at least be heading somewhere.
Chloe focused on the road, on the drive. She wanted to stop herself from thinking, stop her mind from asking the questions she wasn't even sure she wanted the answers to.
She checked on Max again—the girl’s face was wet, tracks of tears running down her cheeks. “Fuck, Max.”
“All of that… because I…”
Chloe shook her head. “No. Don't start this shit.”
“Chloe?”
“I don't want to fucking think about it, okay?!”
Chloe wanted Max to get angry, to yell at her, something. Max didn't. She just… sat there. Looking.
“Do you have GPS or something?”
Max punched something in her phone—probably her parents’ address. “It's eight hours away. We went in the opposite direction.”
Eight hours. Eight fucking hours sitting in this truck, having to think about what happened. Having to deal with Max’s total shutdown.
Chloe wanted to call her a coward—how could Max hide within herself, leaving Chloe alone to process this for the both of them? But Max was the one whose phone was still on. Who wasn't keeping it off because she was too scared about the messages she’d get… more scared of the ones she wouldn't.
You’ve reached a new level of fuckup, Price, Chloe thought to herself. All you had to freaking do was die, and you couldn't even manage that.
“Chloe… do you… do you think I made the right choice?”
Chloe scoffed. “The fuck kind of question is that? Does it fucking matter? The choice is made—it's done, Max. You can't go and hit the fucking undo button now.”
Max sank into her seat. “You hate me, don't you?” Her hands were curling into fists, releasing, curling again. “Because I'm fucking selfish.”
“Yeah? So’s the rest of the human race—congrats, Max! You're not a fucking alien!”
Max leaned her head against the window.
“Like—what were you expecting? We'd hold hands and walk off into the fucking sunset all la-de-da, and we’d turn around and see that storm just passed right over, not hurting a fly? That we’d go back to Arcadia Bay, and everyone would be waiting to throw us a fucking surprise party, and they'd wheel out a big ol’ cake, and fucking Principal Wells would jump out of it and do a merry little fucking jig and sing about how great everything is? Welcome to reality—it fucking sucks, and it doesn't ever stop hurting you.” Chloe cursed once more under her breath.
“You hate me,” Max said, barely more than a whisper.
“I don't,” Chloe admitted. “Max, you chose to save me over all of Arcadia Bay—that's something. But all of Arcadia Bay includes my mom and the few not totally shitty people there that weren't you. It's a little bit fucking complicated, yeah—but I don't hate you.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be. I said whatever choice you made, I'd stand by you, and I wasn't lying.” Chloe eased the truck back onto the road. They'd probably need to fill up soon.
Chloe slotted the nozzle of the gas pump into the truck’s hatch, depressing the trigger and watching as the gallons and dollars on the digital readout went up and up.
It was surreal, doing something so normal, so mundane, like it was just any other day, and she was just any other person needing to fill their gas tank. No bystander there would see her as anything else—they had no reason to.
Max was still in the truck, eyes still blank. With the sun up and having more light to see, Chloe noticed the dark circles under Max’s eyes. She must've been exhausted. To be fair, Chloe probably wasn't looking much different, but she hadn't looked in a mirror lately.
Once the tank was as full as it would get on her meager budget, Chloe put the nozzle back and went inside the gas station to pay. There were two employees at the counter, crowded to a radio.
“...getting updates from the scene, but it has been confirmed that a large storm has struck the coastal town of Arcadia Bay. Meteorologists are baffled, stating that there was nothing to indicate such a devastating weather front was approaching. The storm has since dissipated, leaving extensive damage in its wake, and rescue efforts are underway for the citizens of Arcadia Bay. It will take some time before the estimates of dead and injured can be–”
Chloe slapped her money on the counter, making both employees jump. She pointed with her head to her truck outside. “Paying for gas.”
“O– oh, right,” the employee with big glasses and unkempt hair said, leaving his older female coworker behind at the radio while he left to take care of Chloe. “Pump three?”
Chloe nodded.
“Okay, uh… thirty-four ninety-five?”
Chloe gestured to the cash already on the counter—two twenty-dollar bills.
“Right, right, I'm sorry, ma’am.” The clerk tapped on the register, counting out Chloe’s change.
“...keep you updated with the situation in Arcadia Bay as it develops; our thoughts and prayers go out to the people affected by this tragedy.”
Chloe was tapping her heel, impatient with how slow the clerk at the register was working. She didn't want to hear about Arcadia Bay—some small, familiar part of her remembered the times when she sought solace in ignoring reality, like if she simply believed hard enough, all the bad things would turn out to be untrue.
It had never worked, but there was a first time for everything, right?
“Five dollars and five cents is your change, Miss.”
Chloe grabbed the money from the clerk’s hand, shoving it back into her pocket. She gave him a nod, then walked out the door.
Chloe hopped back into the truck, settled into her seat, looked next to her—to see that the passenger seat was empty.
“Fuck.”
Chloe got out of the truck. How could she have been so stupid to leave Max alone? She should've dragged her bony little ass out of that truck and into the store with her, where she could've at least noticed if Max tried to leave.
Chloe looked around—Max wasn't anywhere outside, and Chloe would've noticed if she had entered the gas station. That left the rest stop down the way.
“God damnit, Caulfield,” Chloe said under her breath, securing the truck as much as was possible and walking to the building.
Chloe pushed open the door forcefully, immediately looking around and getting strange glances from the families on road trips and other wayward travelers.
The rest stop opened past the door into a hall leading into a four-way intersection, which went to other fast-food restaurants and bathrooms. There was a convenience store on Chloe’s immediate left, but a quick scan told her that if Max were there, she'd apparently learned how to turn fucking invisible.
Which, at this point, who could honestly say that Max wouldn't be able to do that?
Chloe groaned, walking further into the rest stop. She was trying to hide it, but she was getting nervous—she really didn't like the idea of Max being apart from her, and her mind couldn't stop racing, considering all the worst possibilities.
What if she didn't go willingly? What if this is Rachel all over again?
Chloe shook her head vigorously. It was time to focus on finding Max—which, as it turned out, was not very hard. At the intersection, Chloe turned right and saw Max standing, transfixed on something above her—a television.
A television showing a live broadcast of Arcadia Bay.
It was ruined—buildings in shambles, pieces of them littering the streets. Places Chloe recognized now rendered into little more than piles of rubble—people climbing out of it, helping others who were either dead or hurt—she honestly couldn't tell which were which.
When it started panning over the bay, to the coast, toward where she knew the Two Whales Diner should be, she had to look away. Chloe focused on Max’s back instead, on the tension in the girl’s shoulders. She wasn't the only one watching, so at least she didn't look like a totally obvious freak, but Chloe knew that she'd better get her out before she had a breakdown in the middle of an interstate rest stop.
Chloe walked up to Max, grabbing her by the elbow. “Max. We gotta go.”
Max was unresponsive, as was apparently her fucking norm now, and stayed rigid in place.
"Max." Chloe muttered a string of curses under her breath, grabbing Max’s face and forcing her to look at her. Those eyes… those eyes were too haunted for someone Max's age. For anyone’s age, really.
“Chloe?” Max looked around. “How did…?”
Chloe sighed with relief. “You were totally zonked out, dude. Don't wander off like that—scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry…”
“What, is that your new favorite word? Look, just… like, tell me if you're gonna go use the little girl’s room or something, alright?”
“Okay.”
Chloe grabbed Max’s wrist. “C’mon. Our chariot awaits.”
It was about two in the afternoon when Chloe finally started to feel the sleepless night catch up to her. She decided enough was enough when she almost careened into a barricade for the third time. Chloe guided the truck down the next exit, finding a spot where she could park on the road.
“Alright, Maximus, if we're planning on making it to the ‘rents in one piece, I really need to catch some z’s.”
Max nodded.
Chloe pushed her head back into her seat. “You should get some rest, too, is what I'm getting at.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you're not. I can see the bags under your eyes, and I know you didn't sleep last night. Being tired and sad isn't better than being awake and sad—trust me, I've got plenty of experience at both.”
Max looked over at Chloe. God, she looked even worse than before—had it really only been a day? “Chloe… I'm scared of what I might dream about.”
Chloe breathed out through her nose. “I get it. But you can't stay up forever, right? Just bite the bullet and get it over with. You can even stretch your legs out over on my side if you want, okay?”
“Okay.” Max put her legs up on the seat, scooching until her legs were on Chloe’s lap and she could actually lay her head down. Her eyes stayed open.
Chloe smirked. “Gotta close your eyes to sleep, genius.”
“I know that,” Max said. It gave Chloe hope to hear a little annoyance in her voice.
Good. Come back to me, girl.
Chloe rested her arms over Max’s legs so they wouldn't get cramped under them. Max shut her eyes. Whether or not she was really asleep… Chloe honestly couldn't tell. But as she laid her own head back, she felt rest come to her swiftly, hastened by her pure exhaustion.
Chloe was at the lighthouse. The storm was in the bay. She was lying down on the bench overlooking the cliff—alone. No Max.
Chloe bolted upright. She was dreaming… right? The storm had cleared up, and she wasn't in Arcadia Bay anymore—she couldn't be here. “Max?”
“Nope. Just me, kiddo.”
Chloe turned to her left. On the bench, sitting next to her, where she'd been lying down just a moment before… “Dad?”
It was William Price, in the… dream flesh, Chloe supposed. The same flannel shirt he was wearing that horrible day, same cocky smile, looking not even a bit older than the last time Chloe saw him. “Wasn't sure whether to expect you or not. Or… I guess how to expect you.”
This dream… like the ones she used to get, the ones that felt so real. But they'd stopped after Rachel… why now?
William looked out on the horizon, at the swirling tempest before him. He let out an impressed whistle. “Real beast, huh?”
“Dad? Why are you here?”
William looked back at his daughter. “Wouldn't be much of a father if I didn't help out my little girl, would I? Y'know… storms have always fascinated me. Such power… from such small, unassuming beginnings. Like the flap of a butterfly's wings..."
“Did he always talk like that?”
This voice came from behind… and it was so familiar to Chloe. Something she’d never actually thought she'd hear again. But as Chloe turned, she was there. That dirty blonde hair, that easy smile, the way her eyes were always so observant. “...Rachel?”
“Hey,” Rachel said with a wave far too casual for the occasion. “Long time no see, Junkyard Queen.”