Hey guys, Ocean here. So, this fanfiction is one of the smaller projects I intend to work on over the course of NaNoWriMo this November. As such I won't be spending a lot of time editing the story, and I'm sorry if there are mistakes. Please feel free to drop a review about ideas you have for upcoming chapters, as this is very free form for me.

Hope you enjoy it!

-IoI-

Prologue:

The truck idled quietly, and it was the only sound Max was really paying attention to. There were birds chirping. There was the gentle sound of the waves crashing against the beach. But Max wasn't listening to any of that. There were other sounds too, sounds she was more purposefully ignoring. The spark of electricity from ripped wires. The snapping sound of timbers and boards, already precariously balanced, drying in the sun and warping.

She drew her hoodie tighter around her, cold in the weak October light. Misery was descending like a black cloak all around her, but she crushed her eyes tightly shut.

Don't think about it Max. She whispered inside her head, not looking at the broken and twisted cars, and the buildings that surely contained the just as broken forms of the people she had once cared about. Her dreams flickered in her mind like the weak and burning images from a warped film negative. All those people she'd imagined sitting in the diner. All those people, even herself.

"Max?"

Max's head snapped up and she looked around. Chloe. Chloe was striding towards her from where she'd stopped to check a wrecked car, her blue hair neon in the sun. She didn't stop as she drew closer, pulling the shaking smaller girl into her warm arms. Chloe's muscles clenched as she crushed Max against her chest. Max began to shudder, barely holding back the sobs.

"Shhh…." Chloe whispered, petting the soft brown hair. "I've got you Max… I've got you. I'm never letting go of you. Gently, Chloe scooped the shaking Max off of her feet and settled her into the soft leather of the truck seat. She wrapped a ratty blanket around the tiny girl's form.

"Need to get some food in you, darling…" She murmured softly, trying to stay calm and sooth Max with her words. "Some food, and a shower, a good place to rest…."

"I k-killed them." Max choked out. It was the first time she'd spoken since she'd torn the photo and hidden her face in Chloe's chest while the world around them had been obliterated. Chloe didn't speak, her voice caught in her throat. She couldn't deny what Max was saying even if she wanted to. "There are children's bodies around here that will never grow up because of me! I'm a murderer because I chose what I wanted!" Max's voice was rising in pitch, becoming more and more frantic. "I chose what I wanted over the good of everyone else, I'm selfish, I'm pathetic, I-!"

"I don't care!" Chloe cut Max off, pressing her cold lips to Max's shaking ones. Max's eyes closed softly as the two girls lost themselves entirely in the warmth of the kiss. They broke away and Chloe tenderly ran a thumb along Max's cheek. "Max… you chose me. How can I ever be sorry? I'm alive, right now, in this moment. I'm not dead in some bathroom… not in the ground like…" She shuddered. "I'm alive now because of you. I refuse to let you take the blame for this! I won't do it!" She shut the car door loudly, Max curled up inside, and peeled out of the parking lot.

It didn't take the two of them long to drive away from the town. They knew they wouldn't go far, not tonight. But Chloe had the money they'd taken from Wells' office in the glove compartment, and that was enough to get them to a motel a few towns over, at least for a couple days, then maybe to Portland. They had enough for rent for a few months while they got settled. Anything to be away from life.

Max knew she couldn't face her parents, or anyone she knew from before, she would rather they consider her dead. She wasn't even sure she wanted to keep her own name. No matter what Chloe said, what explanations she tried to present herself with, no matter the surge of love she felt rock through her when she glanced at the blue angel besides her, she'd always be a murderer in her mind. Even if it was worth it to have the love of her life with her, she had let friends, family, and children die for her own selfish reasons. She didn't feel like she deserved to be alive any more than them. She stayed curled up in the beat up seat besides Chloe, not speaking. She'd tried to rewind a few times, but nothing. Nothing worked. Her mind, her body. She was on autopilot now, letting Chloe take the lead. Given time, she was sure Chloe would come to hate her as much as she hated herself. After all, Chloe's mother was dead now because of her. A silent tear rolled down Max's cheek as she took a deep and calming breath.

Chloe watched her precious charge with worry. Not that she wasn't cracked up inside- hell, she could hardly function without the frequent smoking breaks, but loss wasn't new to her. In some ways, she felt like the town had already been gone for years. She and Joyce hadn't been close since William passed, and had drifted farther apart when David had started beating her and Joyce hadn't stepped in. For a little while she'd had a hope, but after what had happened to Rachel… there was nothing left in Arcadia Bay for her. In fact, the only thing that mattered to her in the world anymore was right next to her in the seat, half crying and half asleep. Chloe knew Max didn't need to be around the wreckage either, because she knew her best friend would never stop blaming herself. Max had done everything for her, to save her. She deserved better than Chloe would ever be able to give, but at least she could offer shelter and warm arms to curl into at night.

As the truck sped away from Arcadia Bay, there was a little more movement. Just a little. A man, limping down the main street of the town, watching the two girls from some rubble and hissing between his teeth. He wore the tattered and stained remains of a once fine dress shirt, and carried a small camera bag, what remained of his gear and work.

Mark Jefferson had seen the two girls descend from the lighthouse trail. Seen Chloe half carry Max to the truck, seen them kiss as Chloe tucked her inside. But they, so eager to avoid looking at the destruction, had not seen him. Hungrily, he licked his lips, his pleasure at seeing Max alive threatening to overwhelm him. But he dare not shout. It was an unmissable opportunity and to put them on alert to his presence would be… unforgivable. No, he needed to bide his time, as he'd done escaping the Dark Room.

It had been a simple matter, really. Stuck in the bunker with the incompetent school security officer who kept leaving him to check on the storm, try and get reception to call his wife… dispatching of him had been so… simple. A rip of tape. A reach for a needle. What had been far worse was realizing that his work was worthless now, as water had begun to flood into the bunker and he'd been tied to the chair. The idiot had refused to close the safe's door, and thousands of dollars of design had gone to waste as a wave water poured inside, knocking shelves over and destroying everything he'd killed to create.

It was Max's fault and he knew it, had known it then and knew it even more strongly now. Max, that timid girl from his class, the one he'd dreamed about, the one he'd obsessed over… he knew it was her fault, it had to be. Hadn't Matheson said that Max had tipped him off? When the storm had abated and he'd climbed out of the Dark Room, barely a few of his precious photos surviving, he thought only to find her body and take the pictures of it he so desperately needed. He needed the closure of her, and the fresh start.

His prayers had been answered in a way he'd never imagined possible, as he'd seen her, alive. Of course she had lived! She was his muse, and the gods smiled on him when he created his precious work. While the bodies of the useless common people of this town rotted under the rubble, the artist and subject had both survived. His twisted mind focused on it. Max… he had to have her. It was time to leave this pathetic town. He had money and friends outside of this place, artists who understood the good work he had been doing. He could follow her, find her… she'd never even know he was coming.

Jefferson found a car parked a little ways out of town, it had been left when its' owner tried to continue on foot. Silly.He thought. If they'd stayed with the car, they might have their pathetic life.

It didn't matter. His mission would continue.

I'm coming for you, Maxine. One way or another, you'll be mine.