Set one year after Max Caulfield made the impossible choice.
Work in progress
Chapter 1: Memento Mori
October 7th, 2014 - Price House, Chloe's Bedroom – Early Afternoon
"And Max Caulfield… don't you ever forget about me…"
Those painfully familiar words resounded in the young brunette's mind as she gradually stirred from yet another restless night's sleep. Bright morning sunlight filtered through the faded American flag used as a makeshift curtain, falling on the bed. It made her turn away, burying her head in the pillows and blankets to shut out the invasive wake up call. A familiar aroma of weed, cigarettes, and body wash filled her nostrils as she clutched onto her friend's pillow like a life raft.
A flock of birds happily chirruped away somewhere outside, so carefree as they sang their morning tunes. The sound could not less appropriately fit Max's mindset. Reluctantly, she sat up and looked around the room which used to – and still did – belong to her blue-haired punk, Chloe Price. It had been a whole year since that fateful day and the room still looked the same, albeit tidier. A few new additions had been made, mostly early childhood photos of two dorky looking teens a blonde and a brunette in various outfits, most notably pirate costumes.
Joyce had offered her the room shortly after the bluenette's funeral along with her truck, both of which Max had accepted. Since then, neither had changed much. She couldn't bring herself to alter it, even taking out the trash had been hard. Anything Chloe had touched was another link to her and it felt awful to throw it away… like she was erasing part of her presence, evidence she had ever existed.
Dragging herself out of bed, Max flicked the stereo on. Santa Monica Dream, the first song that played when she and Chloe had reunited, came from the speakers. She stood still for a few moments and listened to the soft guitar and melancholic lyrics filling the air. The melody evoked a ton of memories… all tied to her year-long dead friend.
Eventually, she wandered over to the closet – where she had once played out childhood fantasies – to put on her outfit for the day. A pair of faded blue jeans, red checked shirt, three-quarter length black boots, Chloe's signature leather jacket, and tri-bullet necklace.
'A mixture of old and now. Lost and found… then lost again…' she thought bitterly as a memory forced its way into her head.
"I double dare you, kiss me now," the echoey voice challenged, just as clear as the day it was spoken.
'Yes. A million times yes. In any reality…' A weak smile tugged at her lips, eyes stinging a little as she wandered over to the mirror. Stuck to it was a picture of Rachel and Chloe, the bluenette flipping off the camera. "Morning, guys. I'll be coming to see you later. Wait for me, okay?"
Checking out her haggard reflection – the result of sleepless nights and prolonged emotional distress – she ran her fingers through her hair. There was a single faded blue streak alongside a dirty blonde strand, in remembrance of Arcadia's angels. Two girls who changed the course of fate in this sleepy town… but paid the ultimate price.
Heading over to the dresser, she pulled out an envelope and her faithful – if tatty – diary, alongside a bag with several joints inside. Pocketing the latter, she turned to head out of the room. Hesitating, she swore she could almost see Chloe jumping on the bed, dancing to music.
"This song fucking rules. What's the matter? Can't dance, hippie? C'mon, shake that boney white ass!"
'Still can't dance… not that it matters anymore…' Heading downstairs, she found the house empty. Joyce was working a double shift today, not due to finish till the early hours of the next morning. 'Guess Joyce finds it easier to work, especially today of all days.'
Placing her diary on the dining table along with a letter, she set about making herself some coffee. Downing it, she took one last look around the house that was practically her childhood home. Her gaze zeroed in on the wine stain still decorating the carpet.
"C'mon, open it chicken!" a much younger Chloe Price demanded.
"Hold on, and I'm not a chicken!"
"Prove it! You drink first, Max," her friend's tone was mischievous, coaxing.
"You were braver than me in the end, Chloe. Braver than anyone", Max mumbled, wiping fresh tears from her cheeks as she smiled weakly at the memory. "I hope you don't hate me for this…"
Before she left, she checked her messages one last time. 'Nothing… guess that's what happens when you shut yourself off from the world. Then again, my world died a year ago…' Sighing, she tossed her phone on the table with a clatter, giving her journal a final look. 'Goodbye, old friend. Thanks for being there for me, but I'm beyond broken now. No amount of scrapbooking will change that.' With that, she grabbed the keys to Chloe's truck and headed outside. Not once did she look back. Her mind was already made up.
After driving aimlessly for a few hours, she made her way up to a painfully familiar spot, by far the worst out of the long list. Dragging her feet, she slumped down on the rickety wooden bench, watching waves crash against the cliffs. A few gulls cried as they glided overhead, the old lighthouse standing ever vigilant over the bay.
Taking a joint from the baggie, she lit it and took a deep hit, letting the warmth flow down her throat. 'See guys, I'm not so chickenshit anymore…'
As much as she wanted to smile at the irony, she just couldn't. It was too painful. She sat there for some time, working her way through the joint. If anybody needed to get high in Arcadia, it was her.
'Rachel, I hope you've been looking after Chloe for me. Won't be long now… then, I can leave this fucking awful place behind me. Forever.' It had taken her this long to work up the courage to do what she had planned today, a whole year of debating. In the end, there was nothing left in Arcadia for her anymore... no reason to stay.
'This is where it all started, with that stupid dream… even after all this time, it felt so real. This is where we reconnected after all those years. Where I finally realized that… I loved you, Chloe. And the last time I saw you… alive.' Max could feel herself tearing up, angrily swiping at her eyes.
"Wherever I end up, in whatever reality, all those moments between us were real, and they always will be. Whatever you choose, I know you'll make the right decision." Chloe's words of comfort, amongst her final ever spoken on this earth, swirled in the young time traveler's mind.
"Did I, Chloe?" she muttered, recalling her friend's words with crystal clarity. "Did I make the right decision? If I did… then, why does it hurt so damn much? Nothing feels… real, anymore. If this is the right decision, you not being by my side, maybe I don't want to be right."
She spent the next few hours staring out over the cliff, watching the sun sink further into the horizon. Everything felt numb, physically present but emotionally distant. Being here was bittersweet, all her memories tainted. Eventually, she moved on. There were still places she needed to visit before the day was done.
The beat-up yellow truck pulled up at its final resting place… Arcadia Bay's junkyard. It had been left untouched since Rachel's body had been discovered and reburied in the cemetery, alongside Chloe Price. Shutting off the engine, she got out. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows amidst the wrecked cars and appliances.
A familiar ghostly doe stood waiting on the far-left side, police tape still lingering from the investigation. 'I've been planning to do this for months… but I guess you already knew that, didn't you, Rachel?'
As Max approached, it watched her kneel and dig a small hole in the dirt with her bare hands, placing Chloe's keys inside before filling it. Task done, she entered the unassuming gray brick shelter that once belonged to the bluenette and her blonde companion. They had claimed it with graffiti and personal belongings, more like a shrine now than a sanctuary.
Sitting herself down on one of the old chairs, she pulled out another joint. As she inhaled, she let the soft fuzz work its way over her. On the far wall, black writing stood out against the dull gray, defiantly resisting the wear of time.
Chloe was here
Rachel was here
Max was here
Rummaging around in a small box of odds and ends, Max found a working marker pen and got to her feet. Crossing the room, she updated the message.
Chloe IS here
Rachel IS here
Max IS here
"Much better," Max announced softly as she examined her handiwork. "I always feel closer to you here."
As expected, she couldn't help but recall her and Chloe's time at the junkyard, on the Tuesday of that fucked up week. "Can you go find me some bottles while I prep the shooting range… pretty please…"
"You saved me again. crazy. now we're totally bonded for life!"
Once she was done at the junkyard, she wandered back towards the town center on foot. She didn't even notice time pass, everything merging into one seemingly unending path. Finally, she made it, street lamps flickering as the evening sun began to set. Many businesses were closing for the day, not the Two Whales, though. From this distance, she could just about make out Joyce chatting away to customers and a few kids playing on one of the new driving game arcade machines.
Under normal circumstances, she would've gone in… not tonight. There was somewhere she had to be and seeing Joyce again might make her resolve falter. Walking a few blocks, she entered the twenty-four-hour Sav-Mart, the very same one William Price never made it to… killed in a car crash.
Hanging back, she waited for the cashier to disappear into the back room. 'Chloe, I can imagine you being so pumped about me doing this sorta thing. From the sounds of it, Rachel would too.' The coast clear, she entered the store and heaved herself up over the counter. She helped herself to a bottle of whiskey, leaving $30 in its place. 'Still the unwavering moral compass, I'm afraid… well, mostly.'
She leaped off the counter just as the cashier re-entered the main section of the store. The second he saw her, he stomped closer shouting. Without even flinching, she raced outside, throwing her hand up to rewind the last thirty seconds or so. The cashier was left none the wiser.
Twisting the top, she brought the bottle to her lips and inhaled the smell of strong liquor before taking a mouthful. The rich liquid burned as it rushed down her throat, warming her stomach. 'Doesn't taste that bad, I guess. Cheers, guys.' She raised the bottle before taking another swig.
Checking the baggie, finding three joints left, and everything else she needed in her other pocket, she headed towards her final destination. 'Everything's set. Time to go…'
The first light of dawn signaled the beginning of a new day as Joyce finally returned home. Today had been a long, busy shift and all she wanted to do was sleep. Sighing when she noticed the yellow truck's absence, she entered her house. David would be home soon, so she wouldn't have to be alone for long.
Flicking the kettle on, she headed to the kitchen and shot Max a text to check she was okay. 'Poor girl… she's really struggling. I bet she still feels guilty for not getting in touch sooner.'
When she heard a quiet buzz on the table, she went over to investigate. She found Max's phone and what she assumed was the young girl's diary, alongside an envelope addressed to herself. As she picked the letter up, a sense of dread began to consume her. Taking a seat, she opened it and began to read.
Dear Joyce,
By the time you read this, it'll be morning. I hope you're not too tired from your shift and I'm sorry to not be there when you get back. I know how much you hate being alone… especially after what happened to Chloe. There is something I need to tell you. It's all in my diary, which I now leave to you. You DESERVE to know the truth, even if I'm too much of a coward to tell you in person... the truth about Chloe.
You see, I did meet her again. We had the most amazing and scary week, filled with danger, laughter, tears… and love. That week we shared never happened though, at least not for you or the rest of Arcadia Bay. I warn you now, this will be hard to believe. Aside from Chloe, you're the only other person I could never lie to. So, here goes.
One year ago, I met up with Chloe again. That was the day I discovered I could do something I thought was completely impossible, science fiction. That day – October 7th, 2013 – was when I discovered I could rewind time. With my newfound power, I saved Chloe from getting shot. I'm not joking, I swear.
By chance, I bumped into her again later and she saved me, in a smaller way. After getting thoroughly chewed out for not getting in touch sooner – which I TOTALLY deserved – we kinda picked up where we left off. Like no time had passed. And yes, I told Chloe about my power. As you can imagine, she was all over it. Some of the mischief we got into was fun… unnecessary spoiler alert, this doesn't have a happy ending.
I offered to help Chloe find her six months missing friend… girlfriend… uh, still don't really know what's going on there, Rachel Amber. So, we began searching for clues. Eventually, everything led to Nathan Prescott, and later on Mark Jefferson as you know. We also found Rachel's body… buried in the junkyard. Just thinking about that moment hurts. You should've seen Chloe. I've never seen her so crushed. It tore me up.
It wasn't all doom and gloom. We went swimming at Blackwell's pool late one night. David knew someone had been there, and somehow you seemed to know it was us but didn't say anything. I wish we had trusted David more from the start. Problem is, he can come across as a little… well, not friendly. He kinda scared me when we first met, but I know he's a good man who cared about you and Chloe.
Anyway, to the point of this letter. Your daughter, our Chloe, was the bravest person I have ever known. And here's why. My time meddling caused some crazy shit: a snowstorm, dead animals, two moons, and on Friday 11th, October… a stupidly HUGE tornado poised to swallow Arcadia whole.
Three things happened that day. First, it was the day I realized I was in love with Chloe, completely and unconditionally. The second, that huge tornado from my visions was real. Finally, it was the day Chloe Elizabeth Price showed her true colors. Despite owing Arcadia nothing, less than nothing, she convinced me to go back to Monday and let her… die.
She wasn't the only one to die that day. I did, too in my own way. Every day for the past year, I wished I could've joined her then, seen her one last time and told her everything she deserved to hear. I made the choice to sacrifice her to save Arcadia Bay, to basically kill the woman I love myself. Worst, she died thinking nobody gave a shit, least of all me. That couldn't be fucking further from the truth. And… I was literally only feet away, where all I could do was listen, and cry as her life was ended.
I honored her wishes, even though every fiber of my being told me otherwise. I even burned the butterfly photo to prevent me from undoing it, because I knew I would falter. Believe me, I have tried. I have no way of going back. Sure, I can rewind but… not a whole year.
There's way more detail in my diary, explaining everything better. It's up to you who you tell. So long as you know the truth… CHLOE ELIZABETH PRICE gave herself to save Arcadia Bay. She and Rachel are the angels Arcadia didn't deserve, but they protected it with their lives.
Of course, by now you know what this means. And you're probably crying or blaming yourself. Don't. Nobody could fix me… well, the one person who could is beyond my reach. Which is why I've made my final decision.
By now, I've watched the first light of day, and my last. I'm going to see them, Chloe and Rachel. I need to be with my blue-haired punk.
I'm sorry, Joyce and I love you.
Max
P.S. I've already sent my mom and dad a letter. They will know a few hours from now xxx
Tears were rolling thick and fast down the older woman's cheeks as she tried to absorb what she was reading. The tattered book next to her had a label stuck across the middle… 'Capt. Chloe 'Bluebeard' Price and her first mate, Long Max Silver. Partners in crime and in TIME.'
A sense of dread filled her to the core as the implication of Max's words began to paint a very grim prospect. The sound of a car pulling into the driveway snapped her out of her daze. Springing to her feet, she launched herself to the door flinging it open just as David was about to put his key in the lock. Without thinking she snatched the keys from him and ran over to the car, getting in and firing up the engine.
"What the…?" he began, frowning at the unexpected move.
"GET IN!" Joyce practically screamed as she flung the passenger door open and slammed the muscle car into reverse.
Not arguing, David got into the passenger side only to have a slightly crumpled letter thrust at him as he closed the door. The engine roaring into life as Joyce backed the car out aggressively. "What on earth…?"
"Read it," she snapped, pointing to the letter in his hand. "The last paragraph."
Scanning the letter, David was only mildly aware of the engine roaring as his wife floored the accelerator down the street. He quickly found the last part Joyce was talking about, the color draining from his face as he read. "Oh god... you don't think…?"
Wiping the tears from her face, the older woman just nodded as she gripped the steering wheel tighter and pressed her foot on the accelerator. Running a red light, she narrowly avoided a dump truck on its early morning route. The sound of a police siren began blaring behind them, not that it slowed her down at all.
"Jesus woman... where did you learn to drive?" David grunted, gripping the side of his seat.
"That stupid racing game at the Two Whales," Joyce replied in such a way that is was hard to tell if she was joking or not.
Raising his eyebrows, David let out another groan as the car took a hard-left, throwing him into the door, the police car still in hot pursuit. "Where would she even be?"
"The only place she could be as close to her as possible," she pointed out firmly.
Before David could reply, Joyce slammed the breaks. The tires squealed in protest as the vehicle came to an abrupt halt. Before the pursuing police car came to a stop itself, she was out of the car and sprinting up the path to Arcadia Bay's Cemetery. As she ran, she lost her heels in the process, not that it mattered. Only one thing did right now…
The early morning sun cast its peaceful glow over the graveyard, birds singing their hearts out. As she ran, she could've sworn that for just a second, she saw the ghostly figure of a doe in a familiar area she had visited herself many times. Rounding the corner of the pathway, she came to a row of recent tombstones.
Getting closer, her heart sank and a fresh round of tears ran down her face. She fell to her knees beside her own daughter's grave. On top was a single joint, partially burned, and a plastic cup filled with a dark brown liquid. The tombstone next to it belonged to Rachel Amber, which had undergone a similar treatment. At the foot of both were a broken whiskey bottle and a stubbed butt… with a small figure curled up in a black leather jacket, surrounded by a pool of dark red liquid.
Tentatively, the older woman reached forward to roll the figure towards her. A heart-wracking sob erupted from her as she confirmed her worst fear. The arms were limp, each containing a deep gash running down the forearm. Loosely clutched in one hand was a bloodied, jagged shard of glass, which Joyce swatted away as though it would make a difference now.
Tugging the cold, unmoving body closer in a fierce hug, she completely gave way to the overwhelming despair threatening to consume her. With shaking fingers, she wiped away the faded blue and blonde streaks of hair to reveal the pale freckled face of Max Caulfield.