Where Angels Fear to Tread

"He had known so much about her once -what she thought, how she felt, the reasons for her actions. And now he only knew that he loved her, and all the other knowledge seemed passing from him just as he needed it most." – E.M. Forester, Where Angels Fear to Tread

This is from Max's perspective, post-Dark Room. It is graphic, violent, morbid, and it is my catharsis for the episode's conclusion. This is the darkest I will ever write Max, so it is a one-shot. There're triggers in this, and it has no fluff until the last part, so I warn you now…

Read at your own risk

October 11

Dear Diary…

"No…no, not like that," Max thought, chewing on the pencil. Her hand was shaking, the drugs still wearing off. I-I can't…can't breathe. This…this isn't making things any better…

Chloe…oh, God…Chloe

Tossing first the pencil, then the journal along with everything on the desk save her laptop and camera, Max was shaking with rage over what had been done to her. She couldn't remember any specifics, but she knew because she had seen the other victims' portfolios. Flashing back and forth between her growing rage and a stupefying numbness, Max Caulfield had been in a state of shock since waking up at her door that morning. Her eyelids had been heavy, waking up in an addled state from being drugged. She rubbed at her wrists, the phantom sensation of tape not wanting to go away as she scrambled to her feet and looked at everyone in the hall.

Some of the girls who didn't know Max had smirked and whispered as she laid in front of her door while others had shown disappointment at her state. Her clothes disheveled, hair a mess, she looked and smelled the part of a girl who had partied too hard and done too many drugs. The opposite of me. Max looked desperately for a friendly face. No one she knew was around to help her or defend her against the prying and judgmental eyes set upon her. Why the fuck can't any of you understand that?! WHY CAN'T YOU SEE?! Max had tried to explain, had been desperate to, but she was only left with screaming pain in her head and looks of incredulity from those she half-yelled at.

The police having been called after Max's outbursts escalated to shouting, the officers had taken one look at her and all but turned away. Kate had this happen to her too, you assholes, and you did nothing. I saved her. I brought her down from the roof. Officer Berry shook his head in regret at a pleading, bawling Max before notifying the rasping brunette that Chloe Price had been found dead at the junkyard. I fucking KNOW THIS. I saw Mr. Jefferson shoot her in the head, you idiotic sonofabitch! Max had nearly reached out to grab Berry by the cuff of his uniform before seeing the heartbroken look on David Madsen's face as he came from behind Berry to wrap her up in a hug.

"No! Get off me, Goddamnit!" Max screamed, crying and watching as the police left the dorm. Stop looking at me, Max thought as she watched the other girls look at her in shock. Max had never acted out like this before in front of anyone. Then again, Max had never been drugged and assaulted either. I-I can't even remember what he did…what they did…oh…oh, God…Chloe…

"At ease, soldier. Please, Max. Please calm down," David said, pulling her away so that he was looking her square in the eye. His usual stern disposition was still there, but had become mingled with a deep sadness and regret. Reaching out to place a consoling hand on Max's shoulder, the brunette heard him sigh when she angrily swatted the gesture away. "Calm down. Look, you…you can stay with Joyce. I called her already, let her know what happened. She'll…she'll need you more than me right now, and I think you need to be somewhere that isn't here. Max…"

"…Give me a minute," Max said, her voice low as she watched an saddened Victoria Chase. Seething, her blood boiling as she clenched and unclenched her fists, Max watched out of the corner of her eye as Victoria backpedaled slightly into her room before closing and locking the door. I saved you, bailed you out of something…something terrible. You probably would never have recovered, and you won't even know that you were saved? What do I get for helping you, huh? What do I get?! I GET WHAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED TO YOU!

Leaving David, Max slammed her door and locked it behind her. Ripping her Polaroids down from the wall, Max clawed and shook as she tore them away. A haphazard pile on her bed, Max ran over to her camera bag and looked for the Polaroids she had taken throughout the week but never bothered to put up. Frantically searching, the memory of Chloe's room after their dip in the Blackwell pool rushed to her waking mind.

Photobomb!

Photo-hog!

Kiss me now!

"Chloe…," Max said with a choking sob as tears flowed from her eyes, unable to find her collection of Chloe memories. Hands shaking as she tried to focus on one of her wall photos, Max tried to pull herself into a frozen moment in time. The power wouldn't come; instead, a lancing pain burst in Max's head and she found herself swaying from the pain as it knocked her silly.

Forcefully pushing herself off the bed, Max looked around the dorm room and found herself repulsed by not only Blackwell but also herself. Why did I think this place would ever be okay? Why…WHY…do I surround myself in all this hella cutesy shit? Repulsed by the school, herself, and Arcadia Bay in general, Max sneered as she caught her reflection and smashed the mirror with her bedside table. Grabbing a suitcase from the closet, Max hurriedly stuffed what few clothes she wanted to keep and every picture of Chloe she had into the small piece of luggage before picking up her journal from the floor. Dragging herself over to the desk, Max slammed the notebook down and began writing in bold, gouging letters.

MY FRIEND IS DEAD. A GIRL I LOVED WAS SHOT AND I WAS LIKELY RAPED. THEY'LL PAY. I'LL MAKE THEM FUCKING SUFFER. I DON'T KNOW HOW LONG IT WILL TAKE, BUT I WILL GET THEM AND MY POWERS BACK.

AND WHEN I DO, I'LL REWIND AND DO IT AGAIN.

AND AGAIN.

Sitting on her bed for the last time, Max tried to focus on another picture, on any picture, before she left Blackwell Academy. Another sharp needle-like pain sent to her head that was so strong she fell to the floor and vomited. Guess the second time's the epic fucking fail, Max thought grimly as she plucked The Captain from her bed and stuffed it into her suitcase. Zipping up the nearly overstuffed bag, Max took one last look at her dorm room before grabbing the cage containing Kate's bunny Alice. I can't abandon you, can't leave you to die. Not like…not like…

"C-Chloe…" Max whispered, nearly falling to her knees as her body shuddered under the force of another round of sobs. "I'll…I'll get them for you, Che. I'll get them all and make them fucking pay. I-I'll find a way back to you. I swear to fucking Dog."

Slowing her breathing down, Max glared at the fractured reflections she saw. She was all of the Max Caulfields she saw, but she was also none of them whatsoever. How do you pick yourself up, Max, after this town killed the one person you loved the most?

I…I don't know if I can…

Not now, Max thought as she buried her insecurities far away from anything relevant to what was presently needed. Focus, Max. Find your inner bad-ass, the Blackwell Ninja, and don't give the girls out there any satisfaction. Max slowly pulled herself up and gathered everything. Camera bag slung over her shoulder, with the suitcase in one hand and Alice's cage in the other, Max left Alice as a bewildered and worried Dana came into the hall before leaving the dorm with a quick, emotionless goodbye. Max didn't want to come back to Blackwell. Ever. You were right, Chloe. This place really is Black-Hell.

October 12

Max hadn't slept and she had fought every attempt by her body to try and pass out. In the brief moments where she had fallen asleep, all Max could see were flashes of drugged-up memories and Chloe falling to the ground in slow-motion. Waking up with a scream in the back of her throat, Max settled for gasps of air and a shaking, weary body as she would simply sit back up and stare at the door. In her delirium and fatigue, Max would sometimes see Chloe come into the bedroom with her trademark crooked smile and bright eyes full of mischief. My Che, ready to help me make the world bow. The illusion would quickly waver, though, as reality would come crashing down on her fleeting reunion.

Coffee and energy drinks littered the area around what had been Chloe's bed. It still is, Max matter-of-factly thought as she buried her face into the sheets to try and hold onto the fleeting scent of Chloe's smoky fragrance. Her eyes bloodshot, her voice hoarse, Max barely said two words to Joyce over the past 24 hours. Both of them opting to lock themselves away in grief, Max had passed alone through the Price residence without breaking its eerie silence or any sign from Joyce. She'd only seen Joyce the one time when she first arrived, David having driven her to the house.

Seeing the lost expression on Joyce's face, Max had only been able to utter "I'm sorry" at the front door before heading upstairs without another word being conveyed between them. I…I should say something to Joyce, but she can't even look at me. Does she blame me for what happened to Chloe? I know she was looking to me as a positive influence. Wowsers, I did a shit job on that. No, she can't know what happened. She might have been told something in its place maybe? Rolling her eyes as she put a hand to her face, Max rubbed at her wet cheeks before slowly dragging herself out of bed. Max had tried to put on some of her usual clothes. Finding her own attire increasingly childish and offensive considering everything that had happened, Max instead put on one of Chloe's t-shirts and a pair of her own jeans that she had torn and ripped up. Finishing the ensemble off with one of Chloe's beanies, Max put on her sneakers and hoodie before walking out into the hall.

"…Joyce?" Max asked as she knocked at the older woman's bedroom door with a voice worn and cracking, "Joyce, can I come in?"

"…Sure, Max."

"Joyce," Max started to say, opening the door a crack to peer inside. The curtains were shut, but Max could see Joyce sitting on her bed, a cigarette lit in her mouth, "Um, could I…could I have one?"

"Max Caulfield, you can have a whole damn pack right now," Joyce said, her voice strained as she patted a spot on the bed.

Max sat on the edge of the bed opposite where Joyce was sitting and took the offered cigarette. Max had never smoked, finding the things disgusting. Chloe made it look cool. Wincing at the memory of Chloe lying in bed as she baked on pot, Max placed her cigarette over the small flame of Joyce's lighter before placing it in her mouth. Coughing a few times, Max had seen a faltering smile on Joyce's face before the older woman just stared at her. Uh-oh, Max thought, eyeing Joyce warily. She knows something. David sold her some bullshit, probably. Honest to Dog, I…no, that shit sounds stupid and kiddie now. I'm not a fucking kid anymore. They took that, too. Took my…GODDAMNIT!

"Max, if you smoke that any harder you're going to burn your lips," Joyce said, gesturing toward the increasingly short cigarette in Max's mouth. Blowing out a small puff of smoke, Max snuffed it on the ashtray Joyce had placed between them and took the entire pack. Joyce didn't say anything about the cigarettes, but Max knew something was coming. "Max, David told me that you made some…some pretty big accusations at school. About one of your teachers and Nathan Prescott? Is any of that true, Max?"

"I was dosed, Joyce." Max blurted out, hurt at the slight disbelief in Joyce's tone. Not you, too. Looking over at Joyce with her bloodshot eyes, Max saw the earnest concern on Joyce's face and felt her anger subside for a brief time. "I was dosed…like Kate Marsh was dosed and others before her. Jefferson got us, s-shot Chloe, and I woke up at my dorm looking like a poster child for drug abuse prevention. I'm…I'm sorry, Joyce. I couldn't save her…"

Joyce was eerily silent, Max just watching as she smoked and exhaled in repetition. She couldn't tell Joyce the other sickening part of what happened to Chloe, the picture in Nathan's room of her blue-haired friend curled up in a ball in a drugged stupor. Fuck, what must she be thinking right now? About me, about this whole situation? Does she even believe me?

"You feel up for something to eat, Max?" Joyce finally asked, "I…I think I'd like to go down to the kitchen and whip something up. Need…need to keep my hands busy right now."

"…Uh, no thanks. I don't really think I could eat right now," Max said, cringing at Joyce's changing of the subject. I'm alone in this. Chloe's gone, Rachel was always gone, and I'm alone. "Joyce, do you t-think I could have the keys for Chloe's truck?"

"Why?"

"Just to drive around. I have my license and everything. I…I need some air, and to get away from everybody for a while."

Max watched as Joyce reached over to her bedside table and grabbed a small set of keys dangling from a panda keychain. Frowning, Max felt a little part of herself die inside again as she took Chloe's keys in her hand.

I pledge allegiance to Max and the power for which she stands…

Stop it.

I get my best friend back and she's supersized?

Fucking stop.

I'm never leaving you.

FUCKING STOP!

"Max?" Joyce asked, looking over at the brunette in concern. Her teeth gritted as she squeezed the keys so hard her hand was starting to sting, Max snapped out of her thoughts and the ghost of Chloe's words faded into the back of her mind. "Max, maybe you should-"

"I'll be back later," Max cut Joyce off, heading out of the bedroom before going to Chloe's one more time. Fishing through the bluenette's personal belongings, Max found a small stash of joints between Chloe's bed and the wall. Pocketing them, Max grabbed the handicapped fund money before heading down the stairs and out the door. I know one person who might believe me. I don't think he'll like seeing me, but he has no fucking choice in the matter.

Arcadia Bay looked foreign and evil to Max as she drove down the streets of her childhood home. Everything about the town was tainted to her now, even Two Whales. Every shadow ominous, every stranger someone else who might come at her in the dark. All the places she'd visited with Chloe through her time knowing the girl seemed broken. Max shook from a chill running up her spine as one of her last memories from Thursday night came rushing at her. Chloe fell to the ground with a bullet hole in her forehead, Max only able watch in a horrified, drugged state. Fuck this goddamn town, Max thought bitterly as she sped past the welcome sign for Arcadia Bay, I wish the storm had come. I wish it had wrecked every single building in this shithole and sent the Prescotts and Jefferson and Blackwell to Hell. Max's thoughts turned to the people she still cared for presently in the town, images of them lying in various positions while either dead or dying crossing the forefront of her mind. Kate, Dana, Juliet, Joyce. Shit, even Victoria. I…I wouldn't wish that on them. Suddenly hearing another car's honk, Max blinked her eyes hard before coming to.

"Fuck!" Max yelled, swerving back into her lane as a semi drove past her. "Holy fuck!"

Cussing herself out, Max tugged the beanie onto her head a little more as she continued heading toward the beach. The only person who might believe me is Arcadia Bay's resident drug dealer. Because of course that's who would believe me most. Wowser, this is going to be fun, Max's last thought coming along with a heavy sarcasm. She had remembered Frank's offer for her and Chloe to come "party" with him some time and was kind-of about to take him up on the offer. Coughing from her cottonmouth, the cigarettes from before catching up, Max cleared her throat angrily before switching on the truck's radio. Max went through station after station before deciding on a hard rock playlist that was currently running. Not paying attention to the lyrics, Max listened instead to the hard guitar riffs and loud percussion. She bobbed her head unconsciously as she listened on while heading further out of Arcadia Bay.

The trailer was still where she and Chloe had left it as Max parked the truck in the same spot Chloe days ago. It's like I'm rewinding time, everything is so eerily similar. Yet different. Max sat in the parked vehicle. I'm different. Forever. Some things you can't avoid, can't bypass. Some things, however, come with consequences. Opening the driver side door, Max slammed it shut before heading down to Frank Bower's RV. Seeing the drug dealer pop up from around the vehicle's other side, Max saw the confused look on his face as she approached from the truck alone.

"Where's your girlfriend?" Frank asked, a smirk on his face as she took Max's new look in, "First Rachel and now Chloe. You trying to see which shoe fits better, Max?"

"Chloe's dead, Frank. Please, just stop with the goddamn teasing," Max said as she put a hand to her forehead in weary exasperation, her eyes narrowed into slits, "I…I can barely stand to even think about it, Frank, so please no jokes about her or Rachel."

Max saw Frank was about to speak up, his expression darkening, when his face seemed to sag. His eyes opening in something Max was taking as shock, Frank looked at the brunette in confusion for a moment before stammering.

"Y-You…You're not fucking with me, are you?" Frank asked, his tone a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

"I have no reason to fuck with you, Frank. I-I haven't slept since, well, since a while and I'm too tired to try and bullshit you," Max said, her own voice fatigued from crying and lack of sleep, "I came here because I need someone to believe me. Rachel…we found her. She's dead, too. It was-"

"You what?!" Frank asked, her voice raised in alarm and a burst of anger as he momentarily lashed out at Max. Wilting under the man's burning gaze, Max grimaced in pain and looked away from his glare before hearing him mutter "Fucking Hell…" as he unlocked the RV door and called out for his dog. Watching Pompidou come up to Frank with a wagging tail, Max was surprised when Frank waved her over.

"If you, well, if you let him sniff your hand he might let you pet him," Frank's begrudging tone getting a smirk out of Max as she bent down slowly and stretched her hand out. Hey there, Pompidou. Remember me and the treat-treat? Max must've looked like she might cry because Pompidou sniffed quickly before pushing his head into her palm. Good boy, Pompidou! Good boy! Scratching behind the dog's ear a bit, Max kneeled down in front of the dog and looked up at Frank with the faintest trace of a smile.

"You want to know…um, how we found her-" Max began to say only to be cut off by Frank.

"No. If she's gone, then that is all I want to hear, Max. Fuck, kid, you bring nothing but trouble, I swear. You want to get high or something?" Frank asked, looking quizzically at Max as he began to reach in his jacket pocket.

"No. I said my piece, told you what happened," Max said as she got to her feet. Max wanted to tell Frank that it was his GHB that had been used on Rachel. On me, Kate, and Chloe – you played a part in this, Frank, but you're too ignorant to realize it. Maybe you know, and you just do more drugs. I hella don't care, either way. "I'm out of here. Just wanted you to know."

"What are you up to now, girlie?"

"Getting out of this place, first. Then, I'm going to plan some payback. Don't you know? I'm hella full of Irish luck."

Max disappeared from Arcadia Bay that very next day. Joyce had opened the door to coax Max out with some breakfast to find the bedroom a mess as clothes, Max's laptop, and her bags were all missing. Seeing a note on the bed with her name on it, Joyce opened the small bit of paper, frowning as she read it, I'm sorry, but I can't be here anymore scrawled in quick strokes. Joyce had called Max's parents, but no one could reach the brunette on her phone or email. For all intents and purposes, Max had vanished off the face of the earth.

December 2013

Days turned into weeks for the angry brunette as Max bided her time in Portland. Training at a gun range and testing herself every day to see if her powers had come back, Max worked odd jobs and waited tables to make ends meet as plan after plan unfolded and was discarded in her mind. All it really breaks down to is getting Jefferson somewhere secluded, shooting him, maybe shooting Nathan. Max hated herself for the pity she felt in regards to Nathan Prescott, Max remembering his whimpering under Warren's foot and how he had cried over what he'd done when she'd failed in her first attempt to save Chloe at Blackwell. Chloe…

Max had taken to tattooing and alternative photography to pass her off-hours between work, sleep, and preparation. Matching Chloe's tattoo from her descriptive memory, Max had winced and cried a bit under the needle initially. Over the time that followed, however, the pain became a relief as Max took in the sound of tattoo guns as enjoyment while a piece of Chloe was slowly being reflected in herself. All of her memories regarding Chloe had become gradually less painful and Max was thankful for it. She visits me at night, when I'm sleeping. I see her smiling face just as I wake up and it's like a blue star kissing my eyes. I miss you so fucking much, Chloe. I-I need you so bad...

Sitting in what she still referred to as Chloe's truck, Max lit up a joint and took a small drag from her weed while reclining in the parking lot of her apartment building. Two months, Max thought, two fucking months. I got lax at some point and lost myself in actually getting lost. Heh, if my parents could see me now. Max checked herself out in the rear view mirror. Pink hair had only been the start. Max had her eyebrow, septum, and lip pierced before getting into the tattooing. Sometimes she hardly recognized herself, the shy girl from months ago coming up in her reflection to haunt her. I'm still here, Max would hear the quiet girl in a pink shirt say through the mirror, Don't let me go. Please. I miss her too.

"You couldn't do shit!" Max hissed, clutching the steering wheel before realizing that she'd drifted off. Sighing in irritation at herself, Max reached under the bench seat of Chloe's truck and pulled out the handgun she'd bought from someone last week. The transaction occurring in the lot behind her apartment building, Max had weighed the Beretta in her hand before agreeing to the price. Having run off from Joyce's with two boxes of 9mm rounds, Max had been waiting on this day to come for what felt like years and not weeks.

"Guess who's coming to dinner, assholes…," Max said, a malicious grin on her face as she pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward Arcadia Bay.

Frank had been easy. Showing up as she did, Max surprised the shit out of Bowers as he took in her new look and disposition. Filling him in on what she had deigned to reveal, Frank had been pissed at Max for a moment before seeing the morbid grin on the younger girl's face.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Frank asked, his tone a little bewildered, "Last I saw you, Max, you only looked the part."

"I grew up, Frank," Max's words were blunt and cold as she pointed at his phone, "Now…call him."

Max had waited calmly in the RV's bedroom, her back leaned against a wall that concealed her from the tiny hallway and prying eyes. Hearing a vehicle approach with its sound system blaring rap music, Max rolled her eyes as she imagined Nathan Prescott trying to act like a gangster. His family is pretty much the mafia in this town. Shame he's such a little shit in the end. Giving the Beretta in her hands quick once-over, Max ensured that everything that she could possibly test and keep quiet was still functioning as Frank lured Nathan into the RV.

"So what's this killer new X you have?" Max heard Nathan Prescott ask as Frank closed the door behind them, "You made it sound tast-ee, man."

"Yeah, it's fucking killer," Max whispered to herself as a grin played across her face. "Keep talking, Asscott. I want to give you a shot, lead injection, so keep being a hella little shit."

Max rolled her eyes at her own joke and froze when she glanced out the window. Perched on the glass outside was the blue morpho butterfly she'd seen in the girls' restroom months ago. Max, for some reason, had the eerie feeling the butterfly was looking at her and found her hand reaching out towards it. Pulling her hand back, Max pulled out her Polaroid camera from the old bag slung across her shoulder and snapped a quick shot.

"What was that?" Nathan asked, his tone suddenly agitated as Frank tried to divert the boy's attention, "Is someone back there? I thought I…no, no fucking way. The hipster? You have the pixie bitch with you!?"

No! Max thought as Nathan came around the corner and made to pull his fist back. Stretching her hand out, Max felt a twinge of pain before the world began to play back in reverse. Her eyes widening from the shock of what she was seeing, Max nearly broke into a fit of hysterical giggles as she realized her powers had returned and that it was not some cruel trick of her imagination. Max had seen Chloe appear before her, both in dreams and waking hallucinations. She had even gone to a grief counselor at a YWCA in Portland about it, though Max had never picked up the prescription offered. I-I can rewind time again! Is it the butterfly, or that my life is in danger? Wowsers, I can REWIND TIME! Chloe…oh, Dog…I can save Chloe. I just need my fucking Polaroids back.

Max's plan had suddenly changed, new paths forming where old choices were either discarded or altered. Rewinding back to before she took the butterfly's picture, Max checked her bag as Nathan and Frank bickered back and forth up front. Yes! The picture's still here! Not imagining, not fucking daydreaming. Max, you can rewind time! Again! Pulling the slide back on her Beretta, Max got up and slowly came around the small corner to aim the barrel directly at Nathan. The boy facing away, he was oblivious as Frank's eyes widened in shock before the dealer backpedaled a step to the side and out of Max's line of sight.

"Hello, Asscott," Max said as she tapped the back of Nathan's head with the barrel of her handgun, "You're going to do exactly, ex-fucking-actly, as I say or Frank is going to find himself in need of some hardcore cleaning products. You understand?"

"Whothefuck?" Nathan stammered out, his voice a mix of sudden anger and nervousness as he looked from the corner of his eye, "Hipster? You should have just stayed missing, feminazi-"

Max shot Nathan in the back of his knee, Frank jumping back as Pompidou barked from outside. Nathan screamed in pain, terror replacing his usual angst as he quickly raised his hand in surrender. Please, Max, don't hurt me, Max imitated Nathan in her head, I'm just a punk-ass shit with daddy issues and a desire to be motherfucking scum. Pwease don't make me shit myself. Oops. Too late.

"Please. Please don't kill me," Nathan whimpered, tears quickly falling from his eyes, "I-I never wanted to do those things, but my dad and Jefferson wouldn't leave me-"

"Do not want, Nathan. I do not want your fucking being sorry or your excuses. You know what I want, what I'd like, right now? You taped up, drugged, and crying like you left two left so many girls. Rachel, Kate, Chloe, and me: I'm your reckoning, Nathan Prescott, your fucking judgment. If you're a good little fucker I might let you live. Give me your phone. Now."

"Wh-What are you going to do?" Nathan asked Max as he handed over his cellphone before getting an answer in the form of being pistol-whipped. Looking down at Nathan's unconscious form, it dawned on Max that she could do anything to Nathan now and just rewind time. No one would be the wiser. I could fucking kill him time and again with no one ever knowing but me. The image of Chloe lying in bed next to her, a content smile on her face, popped into Max's mind and she pressed a hand to her temple. Torn between the kind girl she had been and the angry woman she had become, Max whimpered as she desired nothing more than to simply curl up into her dead girlfriend's arms. She doesn't have to be dead, though, not anymore. Wowsers, I guess the question for me is how I will manage through all that. How do you go act one way when you've become someone else entirely?

Mark Jefferson drove through the wooded dirt road leading up to the old Prescott barn. Tired from the late afternoon of examining photo after photo for the semester's final projects, he glowered down at the disposable phone he had been using to keep in contact with Nathan Prescott for his instructing the young man. His deal with the Prescotts and his own livelihood outside of Arcadia Bay had nearly been destroyed months ago at the hands of Max Caulfield and her friend, so Jefferson had decided to take extra precautions. He'd even fought with Sean Prescott to try and get another bunker set up elsewhere; the elder Prescott, however, deemed such action unnecessary as the young brunette had vanished. Mark felt a pang of guilt, fleeting as it was, when he admitted to himself that Max actually had been rather talented, but dissuaded himself from thinking about the brunette any further. She was gone, and he was still here. That was all that mattered to him.

Seeing Nathan's SUV parked in front of the barn, Jefferson sighed at the boy's lack of tact and climbed out of his own car before making his way to the barn. Something was off, he could feel the winter cold seeping into him like his coat had become a leaky sieve. Shuddering, Jefferson headed inside and down the stairs. Seeing the door hung slightly ajar, Jefferson shook his head in irritation at the Prescott's dwindling rationale. Doing what they did, the Prescott men's perverse 'rite of passage', had taken an increasingly harder tone on Nathan. Rachel and Kate had been burdensome, but Max Caulfield and Victoria Chase had been something else entirely. Nathan was hardly in school at all anymore, Jefferson mused, not that it actually affected his grade. Sean Prescott had his hands into everything that was Arcadia Bay now, and it would likely continue.

"Nathan?" Jefferson asked, seeing the flash bulbs go off in a strobe pattern as he approached, "Nathan, we talked about you being more precautious. We-"

Nathan Prescott sat against the white backdrop, taped up and gagged as tears ran down his eyes. Max had decided to rewind so that he could experience what was to come without being distracted by a gunshot wound. Max watched from around the corner as Jefferson came into her aim and she quickly shot him in the head before rewinding. Pulling time back, Max watched the bullet come out of his head and the headshot disappear as Nathan twisted around across the dark room. Lowering her hand, Max felt a sickening sensation inside of her as the part of her from months ago rebelled against what she was doing. You couldn't save her then, Max, but I can save her now. Jefferson has the Polaroids on him, most likely, so I…ugh…need him. Doesn't mean I can't have a little satisfaction.

"Nathan, we talked about you being more precautious. We-"

"Mr. Jefferson?" Max asked, mimicking her old, shy self, "Am I still too late for the Everyday Heroes contest?"

"…Max, I-"

Bang. Mr. Jefferson fell towards the floor once again and Max pulled time back to do it again. Feeling her stomach twist, Max vomited onto the floor as time resumed and heard Jefferson sigh in disgust.

"Nathan, did you contact me while drunk? Your reckless behavior notwithstanding, I can't-"

"Mr. Jefferson…," Max said in a darkly sing-song voice, pushing the butt of her handgun into the side of Mark Jefferson's head, "Hiiiiiii."

Grinning from the trembling sensation she could pick up through the handgun, Max flashed a suddenly fearful Mark Jefferson her brightest smile as she nudged him towards Nathan. Images of her scattered memory from that night, Kate nearly killing herself, finding Rachel in the junkyard, and the photo of Chloe in Nathan's room: Max's head swam in a churning rage as she fired round after round at Jefferson's feet. I can't do it anymore! I-I can't be like this, this isn't me! I…I want her back…

"Give her back!" Max screamed, whipping her gun across Jefferson's face to feel his jaw give way from the impact. "You stole so many girls, drugged them and Dog knows what else! You don't get her, though, not my Chloe!"

"She's dead, Max," Jefferson said with a dislocated jaw, sitting next to a terrified Nathan, "Like you will be, too. You think Nathan's father will let something-"

"SHUT UP!" Max smacked him across the face with her Beretta again, "Give me the Polaroids! Give them back!"

"…They're in my briefcase…"

Backpedaling to the desk, Max kept her handgun trained on Mark Jefferson as she fumbled with the briefcase's latches. It's locked. Of course it is.

"Code." Max said, bringing the briefcase with her as she returned to stand before Jefferson and Nathan.

"Max, look, my job requires me to look after-"

Bang. Bang.

Jefferson screamed in pain as Max shot both of his knees out, blood and bone leaving a mess on the white backdrop. Max squatted low, pushing the butt of her handgun into one of the wounds as she relished what she had been longing for these past two months. Feeling the body of her assailant shake under the touch of her gun, Max looked Jefferson square in the eye.

"Show me your desperation, Mr. Jefferson," Max said as she pressed the handgun into Jefferson's wound a little harder, "'I could frame any one of you in a dark corner, and capture you in a moment of desperation.' Wasn't that what you said? Well, I guess one of us could do it to you after all."

Max got the combination out of Jefferson after more goading and threats, her heart pounding as she took her old Polaroids out. Having taped Jefferson up alongside Nathan, Max sat at the couch and looked over each picture before finding the one she wanted. I could have taken the one Warren shot back at the party, but I think that'd be too late. Jefferson was probably already on to us by then. Looking up, Max pointed her Beretta at Jefferson.

"When did you know? When did you realize we were getting close?" Max asked, her voice cold as she pulled the Beretta's hammer back.

"…After Nathan came to see me about you and your friend being in his dorm. His phone, the one he used to communicate with me, was gone and it was too suspicious. Plus, I knew that your saving Kate-"

"You don't get to talk about her, Mr. Jefferson. Not her or any other girl whose life you destroyed."

"But Max, didn't you know?" Jefferson said, a faint smile playing across his lips as Max's hand began to shake, "Victoria is now a member of our little club. Go look. You'll find that her pieces are quite tasteful in comparison to your own."

My pieces? Max had blocked that idea out of her head, so when it came hurtling back she began to sob from the flashes of memory. Tape, drugs, flash bulbs, and the click of a camera were all she could latch onto but it was enough to make her want to curl up into a ball. Steeling herself, Max got up and stuffed the Polaroids into her camera bag before walking over to look at Jefferson and Nathan. Killing you is too easy. I've done it twice already, not that you'd ever know. I don't have it in me to keep you that way, though, and I won't let you take that away from me too. Asshole. Max turned around and headed toward the bunker door.

"You're going to just leave us here?" Jefferson asked, calling after Max, "You don't have the strength to finish what you started, Max?"

"I don't want to kill you, Mr. Jefferson," Max uttered, looking at him from over her shoulder, "I won't let myself become a monster like you. I don't have to save you, though, so you and your little buddy can just waste away."

Walking off, Max ignored Jefferson's further taunting and eventual pleading before she closed the bunker door behind her. Looking at the keypad, Max emptied her Beretta's chamber and slammed the gun down into the small panel. Feeling the metal and plastic crumple under the impact, Max dropped the Beretta and walked up the stairs. Not like any of this will matter. If I succeed, all of this…all of me…will never have happened.

Max sat in the barn's hayloft, the picture of her and Chloe from the morning after their breaking into Blackwell Academy lying before her. She had tried to focus immediately but stopped to weigh how it would change her. I'll still be myself, but in the life of an all-new Max. I won't have her memories, only our shared life and an extra two months. Do I deserve this second chance? Max's lips thinned into a single, hard line. It's not about me, honest to Dog. It's about Chloe. The universe was out to get us, Che. It's about time the universe got a taste of its own medicine. Wiping the tears from her eyes, Max gingerly picked up the Polaroid of two smiling girls and began to focus. Pushing herself beyond the pain, Max began to hear the echos of an early morning breeze and the sound of Chloe laughing with "Photobomb!" echoing outward. Goodbye.

"Photobomb!" Chloe Price said in delight, leaning up against a suddenly quiet Max, "Uh, Max? You okay? Hey. Hey, why the tears, dude? I know my morning breath is hardcore but cut me hella slack-"

The kiss was unexpected, but hardly unwelcome. Max had leapt on top of Chloe and brought her lips plummeting into the bluenette's with a fierce starvation. Max had forgotten how Chloe tasted, how light she felt in her friend's presence, but it was all storming back into her with a rapidity that nearly overwhelmed the time traveler. Tears springing up from her tightly-shut eyes, Max cupped Chloe's face with her hands when the bluenette tried to pull back and kissed her even more passionately and lovingly. Che…oh…oh, fuck…I thought I'd never see you again…

"Max…," Chloe said, breaking free of Max's lip-lock, "I'm tapping out, you've beaten me with your hella kiss skills. Dude, that was…that was…"

"That was hardcore," Max said, her voice low and airy as she leaned her forehead into Chloe's before suddenly leaping out of the bed.

"Max, what the fuck is wrong with you today? You're like a totally different person, dude."

"The world is about to bow, Chloe," Max said as she yanked her journal out of the camera bag at Chloe's desk. Swiping a pen from near Chloe's laptop, Max began to furiously write.

It's Jefferson. Rachel is dead, buried in the junkyard. I don't know if you will get this, Max, because if you succeed I might cease to be. We fail. I fail, and Chloe dies with us unable to save her. Prescott barn. Bunker, code 542. All the evidence you'll need to stop them is in that barn. Don't go to school, don't let Chloe distract you. Go now and save us all. Be a hero. – Max

Closing the journal slowly, as though the ink might smear and destroy her opportunity at righting so much wrong in her life, Max placed the notebook in her camera bag and sat on the bed next to a bewildered Chloe. Taking one of Chloe's hands in her own, Max looked at the bluenette with a reverence-like affection.

"Did you get into my stash last night, Max? You're tripping hard, dude," Chloe said, her smile turning into an embarrassed giggle when Max responded by kissing her on the cheek, "Dude, the mush! Ack, so much mush!"

"You love it, though," Max said, her smile from earlier still on the brunette's face, "Chloe…"

"Yeah? You're not going to try and totally eat my face again, are you? I kinda need my face, Max."

"I love you, Chloe," Max said, the bluenette smirking before realizing the seriousness of Max's words, "I love you. I think I've loved you for a long time, but these past few…days…have made me realize it. You need to remind me of this, of how I really feel, Chloe. I can only hope that you might feel the same way, but I had to tell you."

"Max…," Chloe said with a quiet voice as she squeezed the brunette's hands, "That is…that is some fucking bombshell you decide to drop on me. Why are you acting so different? You're so…intense, I guess."

Max saw her peripheral vision begin to shimmer and she knew that this moment in time was about to end, her journal entry having done something to alter what was to come. Clutching onto Chloe's hands, Max looked into the punk girl's eyes with a pleading love.

"Please, Chloe. Just promise me that you'll give us a chance. Don't push me away. I need you as much as you need me. Maybe more-"

Her vision went white, and Max was suddenly nowhere and everywhere.

…Max sitting in her room, looking at the photo of her and Chloe from when they were younger turns into a shot of Max leading Chloe into the Prescott barn…

…Max and Chloe talking to Frank, trying to obtain the code for his account book, becomes a shot of police officers arresting Nathan and Jefferson on school grounds as students look on in shock…

…the End of the World party turns into a shot of quiet school grounds, the party and Vortex Club immediately shut down…

…Chloe getting shot becomes her and Max burying Rachel Amber in a peaceful meadow as a single doe looks on before fading away…

…Max looking back at Arcadia Bay before heading to Portland turns into an image of her and Chloe heading out for a day trip to Portland, Max looking at a catalog of tattoo ideas. The girls are holding hands as they ride off towards the city…

Max doesn't register anything at first, sound muted to barely an echo as her vision begins to come back to her. Her surroundings are initially alien, not having seen them in months, but as her senses return Max realizes that she's back in her dorm room. Eyes widening as it dawns on her that this is a new timeline, Max slowly gets to her feet and looks down.

"Holy shit," Max says, seeing herself in Chloe's jacket with her old Jane shirt and Rachel's torn jeans, "I did it. I actually pulled it off. Wowsers…"

Spinning around to take in her new world, Max nearly fell over from the disorientation that came with her time traveling sometimes before leaning against the bed to steady herself. Looking around more cautiously, Max gawked at the wall across from her bed. While a few of her decorations were still present, the pennant and Lisa predominantly, the rest was both strange and heartening.

Scrawled in Chloe's hand with what Max assumed was a Sharpie were the words "The Blackwell Ninja" in big letters over a series of music posters and newspaper clippings. Slowly walking over to the wall, Max ran her fingers against the paper as though she were afraid her touching them would make them less real instead of more so.

"Blackwell student strikes again…Prescott scandal levels prominent Arcadia dynasty…Blackwell to resume classes in November, administrator resigns after allegations of bribery…," Max murmured to herself as she read the headlines aloud. "Holy shit. Holy motherfucking shit!"

"You talk to my momma with that mouth, babe?" Max heard a familiar voice ask as someone entered the room, "I know your wall of hero worship is amazeballs, but you could find some time for your girlfriend, too."

Max spun around to see Chloe drying her hair off as she came back from the shower room with Max's shower supplies in her hand. Max nearly fainted and felt a pair of slender arms catch her as she found herself being carried over to her bed. Feeling the warmth of Chloe as the bluenette laid down alongside her, Max's shaking hand reached out and latched onto Chloe's blue-nailed fingers. Feeling Chloe's fingers intertwine with her own, Max began to cry as she buried her face into Chloe's shirt.

"I was only in the shower, Maxaroni," Chloe said, her voice lovingly teasing, "Hey, babe, you okay? You get another migraine?"

"No," Max said, wiping at her eyes. She's really here. It really worked, Che. You're alive! "I get you."

Chloe smiled, a look that reminded Max of the bright girl she'd known from before she'd left Arcadia Bay for Seattle, and Max felt her lips brush softly against the bluenette's as they both seemed to instinctively lean into each other for a kiss. Max pulled Chloe over so she was lying on top of the brunette. Slipping her tongue into Chloe's mouth, Max took it all in: Chloe's warmth, the sound of their hearts beating together, the mild shake of Chloe trying not to giggle as Max refused to stop kissing her. Finally getting pulled away from Chloe, Max pouted only to have Chloe pull her back down for one final kiss.

"Okay, Max Attacks, lemme up. My mom's expecting us for breakfast and I am in need of some serious grub," Chloe said, patting her leg.

Max reluctantly let Chloe go, but not before swiping one more kiss from the bluenette who was now her full-fledged girlfriend. Grinning from ear to ear, Max got a smirk from Chloe as the brunette sat down at her desk. Clicking onto her Facebook profile, Max saw a lot of messages from Dana, Juliet, and Kate that all rounded up to an excitement of seeing each other again. Wowsers, even Victoria sounds like she'll be happy to see me. Seeing her journal wedged between her desk and the wall, Max yanked out the notebook and flipped through it. The entries continued all the way up to what Max saw on the calendar was yesterday. Whew, I'll have something to go off of. Thank Dog. Max began to flip back until she saw an earmarked entry for November 10th, a month-long gap between her last October entry and the one she was staring down at. Max's curiosity piqued, she began to read.

November 10th

If this sounds strange to you, then I'm guessing you made it back. I got your note, so I guess time is more wibbly-wobbly than we thought, heh. First off, it's done. Dad's connections with the US Marshals office in Portland got the job done. The Prescotts are pulling their usual evil mastermind cover-up crap, but their little empire falls the way of Rome. If only there were fire, too. *shrugs* I tried to feel bad for Nathan, even after seeing the binders in the bunker, but I just couldn't. No mental illness can absolve him of doing something so horrible and I can only hope he gets the help he needs wherever they send him. The trial was epically fast, and he's in a psych ward indefinitely. By the way, don't drink a ton of coffee before having to be a witness in a trial – many stares, such pee break, so embarrass. Wow.

I can't believe that Mr. Jefferson could be so evil. I mean, I know it but it's so unreal. When the cops and marshals came, he just held his hands out like it was nothing. I saw him glance in my direction and it almost looked like he was leering at me. Ugh. Creepers gonna creep, amirite? Victoria didn't take it well, but when I told her (in private) what I had found her bullshit attitude all but vanished and she hugged me. Of course, that was followed up with me having to swear not to tell anyone about said hug. C'est la vie, Victoria.

Chloe and Kate took some consoling. Hella consoling. Kate's much better, though, with as much justice being done as is possible. She smiles a lot more, and pretty much latches onto me whenever I go visit her in Portland with Chloe.

Chloe needed some time to process everything. I helped her make a special place for Rachel to finally rest in actual peace. We cried a lot. Chloe even got me to smoke a joint and drink a beer in salute to Rachel. I hate to break it to you, but I'm kinda sorta getting a liking of the ganja. Guess what, Max? You're a stoner, a hippie, and a hipster now. Welcome to the club; have a "special" brownie *wink*. Honest to Dog, Chloe hurt for a couple weeks before finally meeting me in Two Whales. She'd texted me some throughout her mourning, and Joyce had called me out of concern because all Chloe seemed to do was cry and drink, I guess. When I finally saw her, she looked so miserable.

Until she looked at me. Her face lit up and I was wonderful.

So, if you're the Max who left me that chicken scratch then welcome to our life. I don't know where you came from, what life you had, and I can only hope that what you get here was better than what you had before. Take care :)

"Max?" Max heard Chloe call to her. Turning in her chair, Max wiped the single tear from her eye as she watched Chloe put on her boots and beanie, "Hey, you ready for a hella Price breakfast?"

"Hella," Max said, smiling as she got up to join her girlfriend, closing the door on her past and heading out to her future hand in hand with the girl she'd always save.

Author's Note –

I hope you stuck around for the end. I'm sorry to drag you through some epic angst and sadness, but I wanted to portray Max in this light because I see everything she's gone through in the game and find myself breaking up inside. If you follow me on Tumblr then you know how deeply fucked up I got over the ending and what went down personally for me. I'm not going to talk about it here because I don't want to get worked up too much.

This story is dark because the way DONTNOD left us was equally dark. I didn't want to write this, to be honest, but I felt that if I wanted to keep writing in this world that has been created I would have to cover this eventually. Max has had so much happen to her, seen so much, in only a few days; if she doesn't snap at some point in the game, either rage out or break down, it won't be real to me. It wouldn't make any sense. So, I chose a seething, berserker approach. Max didn't act with the apprehension we saw in Chloe during the dorm scene with Nathan because she was already traumatized from seeing Chloe die so many times; her being able to exact revenge outweighed her buried fears.

I ask only that you not hit me with cruel words if you choose to review. I cried so much in writing this, hurt over what happened in Dark Room, that this was my only way of coming to terms with how the game triggered my PTSD from Iraq.

See you around, Cinnamon Rolls. I'd say my usual "stay hella", but we're all hurting and it would feel inappropriate. Just take care, okay? We've got one episode left and it would be idiotic for DONTNOD to just finish us off. At least, that's what I'm hoping.