A/N: Rewritten as of 6/25

Chapter 1 - That Kind of Crazy

October 11, 2013
Friday

How many times had she been here before? Faced with the tremendous power of the tornado, she dreaded this hilltop with every fiber of her being. She could still feel the static electricity in the air that made the hair on her neck stand on end, the terrible winds which threatened to topple her off the edge of the cliff, the suffocating darkness that trapped her in fear, and the bullets of rain that beat at her face; she could still feel all of it.

As vividly as her imagination recreated the scene she knew so well, that was not the same scene today. Having become accustomed to the sight of the storm and its unwanted memories it brought along, it took her some time to realize that all was calm on the western front. That golden orb in the sky had but minutes before it would be called back below the horizon. The clouds parted in the wake of its rays, leaving the sky a rich orange. The water was clear and still like glass, holding its breath in anticipation of the setting sun.

Max only wished she could heave her soul out into the waters below to be washed through with the peace of the ocean. Guilt piled upon guilt as she weighed what this peaceful scene cost. Chloe Price was her world, and she traded her away because it was the right thing to do. If it's the right thing to do, why do I feel like shit?

Holding up the scale in her mind, she could see the needle tip toward Arcadia Bay, but in the background she could hear her conscience screaming for Chloe, the girl whose life had been kicked around and shit on by destiny itself. Had she really made the right choice in saving the town? Was it really worth Chloe? A pang of guilt struck her as she was confronted with her own selfishness. She recalled the famous words of Mr. Spock, "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few." Fuck you, Spock. They saved you in the next movie anyway.

She looked down at the envelope in her hand. In it was the picture of the blue butterfly and a note. She carefully removed the picture of the blue butterfly. For the briefest of moments it called out to her, and she could see the colors blurring together, about to pull her in. She closed her eyes and turned away, blinking away a tear as she did so. She made this choice, and she knew she had to bear its consequences.

She knelt down in the dirt and used her hands to scoop out a small mound of dirt. A nearby stick helped her with the task, and after a short time she had a small hole in the ground. She took one last look at the picture before sliding it back into the envelope. She sealed it and dropped it into the hole, covering it with the mound of dirt. The mound was loosely packed and she got up to brush the dirt off her hands.

As she got up, footsteps crunched in the dirt behind her. She turned around and saw Warren slowly approaching up the hill. He paused when he saw her turn around. When Max smiled and confirmed his presence, he continued his approach. He took his place next to her wordlessly, looking out at the same sunset.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I think we should get going," he said apologetically.

"It's fine," Max said softly. "Thanks for driving me here, by the way," she added.

"Of course." Warren glanced down at the small mound of dirt next to their feet. "Did you do what you wanted to do?"

"Kind of," Max replied after a thoughtful pause.

Warren nodded. "That's good. Um, I'll be waiting in the car, 'kay?" He took one last glance at Max staring at the horizon before retreating down the hill to his car.

What she wanted to do? No, she only did what she needed to do.

For the past few days, everything that everyone had said in their attempts to comfort her had fallen on deaf ears. Their condolences were hollow and in bitterness she disdained them. The constant bombardment finally pushed Max to a breaking point where she shut out the noise of the world, the world for which she made the ultimate sacrifice. In the short week she had spent traversing the timelines, she and Chloe had become even more inseparable than before. Their bond surpassed the fabric of reality and was the one thing Max could count on. They were partners in time and in crime, and she gave her up to die because the universe demanded payment. She traded her best friend for a town who would never understand or appreciate her sacrifice.

When Joyce and David asked Max to give a small tribute for the memorial, Max felt a different type of sorrow fall upon her shoulders. Though she and Chloe had reconciled for her five year absence over the past week, that week didn't exist anymore. During that week Joyce and David had seen the two girls reunite and share laughs like old times, but in this world they never had any of that. The horrible realization set in as Max finally understood that Joyce and David had asked her to speak not for the last week of life they had shared together, but for the five years of absence she had caused.

Joyce saw firsthand the pain Chloe went through when William died, and she saw firsthand how Max left for Seattle. Granted, it wasn't her fault, but to Max it sure felt like her fault. She had tried to fix all of this by saving her with the rewind and spending the week together, but that was a different history that wasn't reality here. Nightmare Max was right; she only used her rewind to manipulate people into liking her, or in Chloe's case, forgiving her.

A flash of blue caught her eye. It was a blue butterfly, and she could've sworn it was the same one she saw in the bathroom, or at least the same species. It fluttered in the air, circling the casket before gently descending onto its polished surface. A wistful smile spread slowly across her face.

Next to her, Warren nudged her shoulder, snapping her out of her reverie. While lost in thought, Max didn't even notice the priest holding out his hand to her, or everyone turning their eyes to her expectantly. Oh shit, it's my turn for the eulogy! Max walked forward sheepishly, fumbling around in her bag for the notes she had written. She hated making a scene, especially now. By the time she got to the front of the casket, her hands were shaking with adrenaline. Though it was just a funeral, the crowd felt like a jury, and the service was her trial.

A small voice spoke into her head. "You left her to suffer alone for five years. What are you doing speaking at her funeral?"

Another voice, louder this time. "You had the power of the gods and you still sacrificed your friend. What a waste."

She looked down at the notes in her hand and tried to make out her writing, but her tears in her eyes blurred together all of the letters. A single drop fell onto the paper and smudged the ink. She sniffled, wiping her tears with the palm of her hand. Her mouth opened as she tried to speak but only a hoarse croak came out. She closed her eyes and breathed in through her mouth slowly, trying to calm herself and dispel the nervous rock that sat in her stomach. She cleared her throat and tried her best to steady her shaking voice.

"Chloe and I...both grew up together here, in Arcadia Bay. We were uh...childhood...friends." she looked around nervously, pausing in between all her words, trying to not choke up on her words. As she saw the faces of her classmates and Chloe's family, a few of them flashed her understanding smiles. Max looked down at her notes again, reading through them in her head.

The note said everything she wanted to say, but at the same time told absolutely nothing at all. They were friends, they grew up here and played pirates, they raced each other up and down the lighthouse steps, blah blah blah. For Pete's sake, Joyce knew their antics growing up and she could've told the exact same stories. But was Max supposed to say? She couldn't tell everyone about the nonexistent week they had, struggling through the mysterious disappearance of Rachel or overcoming life and death situations. To the world, she had to play the part of the childhood friend who regrettably failed to keep in contact for five years and wished she had more time before her untimely passing. As much as she wanted to tell the world exactly what Chloe Price meant to her, she had to bury all of that deep down inside her, in the spot right next to her knowledge of Chloe's sacrifice. This was a consequence she hadn't anticipated.

She crumpled the note into a ball that she pressed deep into her fist. She dropped the wad of paper at her feet where it rested in the grass. Improv. Here goes.

"My biggest regret was probably not staying around after William, her biological father, passed away when she was fourteen. I felt like a terrible friend and I blamed myself for everything that happened. And honestly...I am a terrible friend. And I don't deserve to be here when she has such better friends than I ever was."

Through tears she scanned the blurred faces of the crowd, and she steeled her resolve and decided to tell them everything. She was going to sound crazy. But they needed to know her sacrifice.

She continued shakily. "When she came back to me this week... and when I prevented her death in the bathroom, it's like the universe was giving me another shot. It was a second chance to fix things and make amends for what I did in leaving her. But the universe had other plans and I couldn't keep prolonging her death forever. When I saved her, I caused a storm that would've wiped out the whole town. Chloe sacrificed herself so that this town would be safe, and I know she wouldn't want me to say that, but it's the truth."

The faces in the crowd were now completely blurred out, and Max wiped her eyes once more. She was surprised to see that she wasn't crying any longer and her tears were gone, but the faces were still blurred as if she was looking through frosted glass. She blinked hard, in case something was stuck in her eye, but everything was still blurred. She looked down and in shock saw the note in her hands again, instead of lying in the grass at her feet. The note was crisp and not crumpled in a wad. What the hell?

As she looked up, the somber faces of the crowd came back into focus. Joyce was still clutching onto David. Warren had his hands stuffed into his pockets. Had they not just heard what she said about saving Chloe and later sacrificing her? Didn't they hear her talk about the apocalyptic storm? No one was reacting to her crazy story at all. That, or they were just being polite in tolerating the ramblings of a distraught friend.

She shook off the confusion and continued. "I miss Chloe more than I thought was possible to miss anyone. And I'll forever be in debt to her for her sacrifice."

Some confused looks spread amongst the crowd, but most of them were busy avoiding eye contact and staring at the grass swaying in the breeze. Max slowly walked back to her spot next to Warren as various people began to walk past the casket, laying flowers on its surface. As she followed the line of people, she passed by a second tombstone. William Price, beloved husband and father. Chloe was to be buried next to William. Filled with self-loathing, she willed the flower in her hand to combust into flames and burn into her skin, so that the temporary pain would distract her from the realization that her abilities had indirectly killed both Joyce's husband and daughter. By thinking about it, she could almost feel the heat radiating from the stem of the flower. When she finally walked up to place the flower on the casket, the sensation didn't pass.

After wishing condolences and saying goodbyes, Max and Warren walked down the hill towards the cemetery parking lot. Once in the car, Max leaned her head back against the headrest and shut her eyes to the world. Warren alternated from looking ahead at the road and glancing back at Max, unsure of what to say. When Max finally opened her eyes, he broke the silence.

"Um...it was a good tribute. Short and sweet," Warren said hesitantly. "It was nice."

"Short?" Max asked, confused. Short? That's all he had to say after hearing about the storm?

"It's okay if you didn't want to say more. It's understandable," Warren reassured her.

Max's eyebrows furrowed in further confusion. "What? No, that's not..." she trailed off. Maybe no one heard her. She probably would've sounded crazy anywhere. She dropped the subject.

"Back to Blackwell? Or do you need food first?" Warren asked, realizing that Max probably wasn't too comfortable with the subject at hand.

"Yeah. I mean Blackwell, not food. I'm not hungry."

"Making it so," Warren acknowledged in his best Patrick Stewart impression.

One week later

Wind whipped and screamed through the trees like an angry phantom bent on revenge. The constant sting of the cold air in her eyes was punctuated by the occasional grain of dirt or sand that was kicked up in her face. She held up a hand to brace herself against the wind but to no avail. The twister was unfathomably enormous. Like toys, it tossed cars and boats up into the air and scattered them across the coast. The lighthouse creaked and swayed at the top of the hill. The twister was getting closer.

A gunshot pierced through the din caused by the twister and Max whirled around to see where it came from. Nathan Prescott was on his knees, hands over his head with a gun in his right. He was trembling fiercely. At the ground before him lay a blue haired tattooed ripped-jeans punk rocker that Max knew all too well.

No...this is wrong.

"Nathan!" she let out in a blood curdling scream.

She ran over to Chloe's body and kicked the gun out of Nathan's hand, pushing him over. Blood pooled on the ground and the gun landed in it. She looked down and she knew it was too late. The girl who could control time was too late.

"Oh, shit...shit...Chloe!" she knelt down and put a hand over the wound on Chloe's stomach. Warm liquid seeped through her fingers too quickly. She tried to shake her awake but she lay still. Rain and tears poured down her face. Mind and heart clashed as Max feebly attempted to resuscitate her despite her knowing that she was long gone and this was just a dream. A nightmare, she corrected herself.

"You ruined everything," she ground out through clenched teeth as she reached for the gun on the ground. The metal was ice cold in her hand. Sticky redness glued her finger to the trigger as blood dripped slowly off of the drenched weapon. Max wasn't even sure if she knew how to operate the complex semi-automatic handgun, but she would do her damnedest to try. She pointed at Nathan's cowering figure and squeezed the trigger, anticipating the explosion of a bullet.

Knock knock.

"Max!"

Bright light flooded her vision and she woke suddenly. In a panic she sat up and threw off her blankets violently. She gasped for breath as she tried to get her heart rate under control. What day was it? Her mind was still foggy from the vivid dream. She pinched herself to make sure she was awake and not in some terrible dreamscape like the one she had journeyed through before making her decision to sacrifice Chloe. A quick glance out the window toward the clear horizon confirmed that she was indeed awake.

Saturday.

Groaning, she flopped backwards onto her bed and ran a hand through her messy hair. Despite her early to bed, late to rise schedule, she was feeling more exhausted now than ever. Thank goodness for the weekend. She rubbed her eyes. The nightmares were taking a toll on her body. She recalled her high school biology lectures about sleep and could vaguely remember something the teacher said about REM sleep and its regenerative properties. If she didn't dream, she could sleep yet still feel tired the next day. Apnea? Something like that. Self diagnosis seemed silly to her but from her constantly drained state, the possibility didn't seem too far fetched.

"Max! Are you awake?"

Warren. For all his quirks and general goofiness, he really was a kind soul. For the past week he had been in and out of contact with Max, not because of his negligence but out of regard for Max's personal space. Some days there wouldn't be a break in their interaction. On others, Max would quietly request to be left alone for the day. He graciously obliged and was never more than a text away. Despite this, Max wasn't sure if she wanted to further contemplate the extent of their relationship. There was simply too much going on for her to think objectively.

Knock knock knock.

"Ma-"

"I'm awake." she replied quickly.

"Oh, hi," Warren said sheepishly, detecting the sight annoyance in her response. "Can I come in?"

Max did a quick once-over of her room to make sure nothing was egregiously out of place. "Yeah, come in."

The door knob rattled but didn't budge. "Uh, it looks like it's locked," came the voice on the other side.

Damn.

"Oh, sorry. Give me a second."

Max swung her legs over the side of the bed and got up. She rubbed her temples in a futile attempt to dispel the headache that was creeping from the back of her head to the front. The door opened and Warren was greeted with a face that was a combination of "I just got up so what do you want?" and "I'm sorry for sounding like an ass."

"Um, hey."

"G'morning," Max managed.

"Technically afternoon," Warren offered cheekily. "It's actually 2PM."

"Really?" Max peeked over his shoulder and saw a few students returning, going to their rooms, and other various doorway conversations. She looked back at her room clock and saw that it indeed was 2PM. She realized she sounded a lot crankier than she would have liked to sound. She tried to tone it down. "Sorry, I just-"

"No worries," Warren shook his head. "I was just wondering if you were sick because you didn't show up for class today."

"Class? Shit, I thought it was Saturday..."

"It was Saturday. I mean like two days ago. I'm sure it's fine. Just email the teachers and tell them you were sick. They should cut you loose. It's school policy for that kind of stuff."

"I'll do that. Thanks, Warren."

"No problem, Max. Are you really feeling okay?"

Max had to catch herself before responding. Of course she wasn't feeling okay. But did she let Warren know that? He was always asking if she was fine and she always gave the same answer. Why should it be any different now?

"I'm doing fine, Warren. Thanks for asking."

"Mhm..."

Warren wasn't convinced. His posture shifted, his head tilted to the side sightly. He was sizing up her fib. And his change in stance was obvious enough to tell Max that he didn't believe her, without outright saying so.

He jerked a thumb toward the door at the end of the hall and scratched the back of his head. "Well I've got one more class, so I guess... I'll see you around?"

"Yeah. See you," she replied unsure of herself. Warren could sense that she wasn't telling him everything and this slowed him in his tracks for a brief moment. But when he saw that Max wasn't going to let on any more than she already had, he continued down the hallway.

Max watched his retreating figure illuminated by the streams of the afternoon glow let in through the windows. She gently rested her head against the door frame and rolled her eyes at herself. He cares about you! Go talk to him! Maybe talking about the week would help these nightmares she was having so that she could finally sleep.

"Warren?" she called down the hall.

He spun around. "What's up?"

"I haven't eaten yet today. Do you want to get something to eat after your class?"

"Of course!" he replied. "Regular spot?"

"Regular spot," she confirmed.

Do I tell him?

Max and Warren sat across from each other in the booth at the diner. While the place contained many now-painful memories of Chloe, Warren had suggested that she frequent the restaurant with other people as to create new memories that would make the old ones less painful. So far, it hadn't changed much, but Max was willing to give it a try.

"Hey, can I say something?" Max began.

"Shoot."

"Look, I-" she paused as she gathered the rest of her thoughts. Here goes. "It's been a crazy week and I just needed some space. I didn't mean to push you away."

The boy across the table shrugged. "It's alright. But I need to know, what's been going on with you? Your friend dies and then suddenly you start talking to Kate like you two have always been close? And all that stuff with Nathan and Jefferson getting arrested... and then the police found Rachel Amber's body! You didn't seem the least bit surprised by any of it. Is there something you're not telling me?"

Max took a deep breath. "I don't know how to say this and sound convincing, so I'll just tell you straight. I have the ability to rewind time."

She let the last sentence circle in the air, waiting for the control tower to give it clearance to land. Clearance came in the form of a single grunt.

Warren's eyes narrowed. "Hm."

"Now you don't look surprised."

"I didn't say that I wasn't surprised," he ventured.

"But you are."

"I didn't say that," Warren said cautiously.

"God, do you believe me or not?" she snapped.

"Sure."

She glared at him. "Was that a sarcastic 'sure' or was that genuine?"

"Genuine."

"That wasn't too convincing."

Warren leaned back with his arms outstretched. "Who's supposed to be doing the convincing here? You're the one who can control time. Can you blame me for being skeptical?"

"You know why I wasn't surprised about Jefferson or Nathan? It's because I already spent the entire fucking week watching people around me die while uncovering their scheme. It was hell. I'm talking to Kate more because in another timeline she jumped off of a goddamn roof when I couldn't talk her down," she blurted unceremoniously.

Warren's jaw would have dropped through the floor at the part about Kate if it wasn't already attached to his face. "Jesus...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you or anything," he stammered. "I believe you, Max."

"Thanks." She rubbed her temples again as that lingering headache reared its ugly maw. She was getting more irritable by the day, more prone to bursting out in fits of aggravation. She was starting to sound almost like Chloe. This really is affecting me a lot more than I'd care to admit. "And I didn't mean to blow up at you like that either. It's just that I know how it seems. Like I'm going crazy or something."

"I get it. I don't think you're crazy, at least not like that kind of crazy."

"Jerk." Max punched him in the arm in mock offense.

"So you can control time, right? What's going to happen in the next two minutes?" Warren attempted to lighten the mood.

"It doesn't work like that. I have to live out the minutes first and then I get to rewind back in time. But I don't want to use my powers," she added.

"Why not? It sounds freaking awesome!"

"I just..." A blur outside caught Max's attention and her heart skipped a beat. She wasn't even sure what she saw and yet something felt weird, like a twisted deja vu. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at once and she shivered.

"Earth to Max?" Warren put his face into her field of vision. Max shook off the feeling and returned her attention to him.

Warren looked toward the window. "Was Bigfoot out there?"

"Yeah, you just missed him," Max returned absentmindedly. What the hell was that? Why do I feel weird?

"Damn it," Warren groaned. "Sorry, you were saying something about why you don't use your totally awesome powers?"

"I don't know. Bad things happen when I use them."

"Bad things like what?"

Max turned to look out the window again. The orange hue of sunset painted the town as a peaceful utopia. The ocean was serene, swaying back and forth, barely churning any foam. And yet something set her on edge, an unmistakably sinister force that pressed in on her from all sides. Maybe I am going crazy.

"Chloe."

"Chloe?"

Max paused. Fuck.

"Did I say that out loud?"

"Unless being in your time-bending presence made me a telepath, yeah, you said that out loud," Warren said straight-faced.

"Look...this will sound crazy."

"Crazier than you being able to go back in time? I don't think anything can top that."

"Crazier."

"Well goddamn, I'm all ears." Warren folded his hands and leaned forward on the table.

"My powers started when I saw a vision of a storm, a massive storm that wiped out the whole town."

"How can one storm destroy a town?"

"It wasn't just a storm, it was a twister on the water, no more than a few hundred yards off the coast. It destroyed everything on the shore and coastline, then moved inland."

"Well, shit." Warren said bug-eyed.

"The first time I used my powers I prevented Chloe from being shot by Nathan."

"Whoa, you stopped a bullet? You're telekinetic too?" Warren exclaimed.

"No," Max laughed. "I just pulled the fire alarm as a distraction. After that, Chloe and I spent the week piecing together the mystery of Rachel's disappearance and Jefferson's Dark Room. Jefferson and Nathan were arrested, Chloe was alive, but at the end of everything the storm still came and was about to destroy the town."

"So at the funeral...when you mentioned her sacrifice..." Warren began.

Max nodded. "Yeah."

"So where did the storm come from?" Warren asked quizzically.

"I think my powers were linked to the storm. I was messing with fate too much and something drastic had to happen to reset everything. It came down to whether I wanted to sacrifice Arcadia Bay or undo my first decision to save Chloe."

"Undo your decision? You mean Chloe-"

Max tilted her head to the side in confusion. "I thought I mentioned it at the funeral. I thought people would think I was crazy, but no one seemed to care about the storm."

"If it's any consolation, I would've thought you were crazy and I would've flipped my shit if I heard you say that," Warren said with a grin.

"Maybe this is all in my head. God, I'm going crazy..." Max said, resting her head in her hands.

"Hey, you've been through some way crazy shit that would've made anyone else go insane. So if you go a little crazy, don't take it too hard," Warren offered blithely.

Max let out a short laugh before her face returned to its crestfallen state. "It's my fault," she said in a low voice. "But the town was saved and those two bastards are in jail, so I guess it was all worth it."

"You don't sound too certain," he observed.

Warren was a fast learner. He picked up on her uncertainty faster than she was able to for herself. Guilt prevented her from even considering that she was unhappy with the way things turned out. Her selfishness made her question if the town was worth her best friend's life. Was it the right decision? Was there even one to begin with?

"I ask myself every day if there was something more I could do, something I missed. Like what if saving Chloe didn't cause the storm? What if it was something else? But here I am, two weeks later, no Chloe and no storm. I don't want to lose any more than I already have by toying with my powers again. It's too much of a risk."

"I understand."

Max spun the glass between her hands as beads of condensation dripped off. The ice floating at the top danced back and forth, clinking against the walls.

"Thank you."

"What for?" Warren seemed surprised.

"Just listening, I guess. And believing me. I've seen so much shit this week it's getting hard to tell if I'm losing my mind or if this is actually happening. It's nice to have someone who believes me."

"Oh. Well you can count on me," Warren said enthusiastically. "It's too insane to not believe you. I mean like, who would make something up like that?"

Maybe I am too insane.

"Let's go back."

"Ready when you are."

The car ride back was silent. The sun had nearly set and the last light of day receded behind the trees. A blue tinge came upon surface, replacing the warmer orange glow. Blue was Chloe's color and she was everywhere, in the sky, in the water, on the rocks that lined the highway. Following her conversation with Warren, Max felt suddenly overwhelmed by all that happened. Every nonsensical event had piled up, stopped by the dam that she had built to keep herself from exploding at everyone who offered condolences made of nothingness. No one would ever understand the hell she had been through. Warren had been the first to crack through that dam, and with that single crack the entire dam threatened to give way to a catastrophic meltdown.

They pulled into the parking lot and the engine ground to a halt. Warren walked her to her room. Max quickly opened the door but Warren stayed outside. As she turned back, she could see the expression in his face change. His usual boyish face marked with a mischievous grin was now replaced with worry. He was worried for her.

"You know I'm here for you, right, Max?"

"I know," she said quietly.

"Let me know if you need anything."

Max nodded and closed the door.

"Max!"

Her heart skipped a beat again as a sense of impeding danger crept into her bones. She turned around slowly towards the voice and braced herself like she was expecting a gunshot. But instead of a gunshot or some terrible evil presence, she was greeted with a beaming smile overjoyed to see her. Her bag dropped to the floor with a loud thud.

"Chloe?"