A Time Unknown

When the blurriness faded from her vision and the nausea subsided, she found she has returned from the alternative world. That was when guilt comes in a torrent and she felt like utter shit.

She, Max Caulfield, killed Chloe Price.

A sense of bitterness mixes in with the guilt. Her using the photograph in order to change the past and save William Price's life was supposed to be a good thing. She did it entirely for Chloe – to save William, to save her life, and to ultimately make her happier.

Instead, she returns to find everything went wrong and to find out that the changed Chloe had waited for her. Waited for her to come so that she could ask Max help her commit suicide. Place an immense burden on her. A burden she couldn't refuse because of who asked it. Because, after all, she loves Chloe.

If there is nothing else she learned this week, at least she learned that she needs the other girl…and she knows the other girl needs her too.

But even if she did it willingly, even if she was begged to do it, she could not escape the intense shame and guilt from her own actions. Even before she had returned to this world, second thoughts had flooded her mind and filled her with doubts about her actions. Tears come to her eyes from the image of Chloe's final moment before the morphine overdose killed her.

The worst memory wasn't the closing of her eyes or the release of muscles from her face. It was the soft release of her final breath. It was like the final signal that death has occurred and it made an otherwise imperceptible sound deafening.

It took much of her remaining spirit to make it through the second journey to the past to rectify her mistake, but as that faded, the last of her willpower was sapped and she felt her heart and mind encaged in a dark place.

Wiping away the tears, she looks up in confusion. There is some kind of cardboard in front of her with photos and notes pinned to it. She stares around trying to gain her bearings and, as the lingering voices of the past disappear from her hearing, she turns around only to discover Chloe sitting in front of a laptop.

"Chloe, you're alive!"

Hearing this, she turns around and stares at her blankly. "You're surprised? I know we haven't talked for a few minutes, but that doesn't mean I'm dead." Max runs over and throws her arms around her. "Whoa, calm down. Seriously, what's up with you?"

Swallowing her anxiety down, Max glances at the laptop screen and notices a search involving 'Prescotts' and 'Dark Room'.

It returns to her. They've been searching for Rachel Amber, discovered her connection to Frank, and Chloe lost it. The last memory had been of her sitting in her room then transporting through the photo of her when she was younger.

The question then becomes how did she end up here? More importantly, Chloe seems to be nonchalant about her presence.

So while she was in the other universe, the 'her' that was here possibly made up with her Chloe after their argument, then continued looking into the Blackwell conspiracy they were doing, and even went to Chloe's house? How? Did the 'her' here get switched with the 'her' from the other universe? That just creates even more questions.

"Max?"

She snaps back to attention. Seeing Chloe again, she couldn't help but give another embrace and even kiss Chloe's cheek and lips repeatedly.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down! Damn!" Chloe pushes her away. "I'm happy to see you too, but seriously, we've been together for hours now. Why are you so…touchy-feely all of a sudden?" She blushes. "Not that I don't enjoy it, but I would like to know why."

The sound of the other Chloe's final breath suddenly rings in her ears making her stomach drop and Max tries to shake it off, but couldn't quite do it. She tries to look Chloe in the eye. "I'm just…glad you're here with me."

Chloe stares at her. "That would be a lot more convincing if you didn't pale and started sweating when saying that."

She swipes at Max's forehead and comes away with a glistening hand. Swallowing, Max pulls away and goes to the door. Chloe quickly jumps up looking at her, but she waves her away.

"I need to get some space. I'll…be back. I love you."

"Max? Max, wait-"

She walks out shutting the door behind her and runs down the stairs. She makes it outside just as Chloe's door was opening. Jogging away as quickly as possible, she makes it to the bus stop, and gets on to return to Blackwell.

On the bus, she puts her face into her hands feeling somehow worse. The other Chloe's death followed by her running out on her Chloe. Why can't she seem to hold a relationship with Chloe without fucking it up or filling it with drama? Her Chloe probably thinks she lost her mind and wouldn't be far off.

What in the hell was she thinking? Why did she agree to kill Chloe?

William and Joyce will be devastated and the 'Max' she switched with will probably get arrested for murder. She easily ruined all three people's lives with what now seem like a careless decision. A decision that she has no right to make regardless of how much Chloe pleaded with her to.

There were so many people invested in Chloe's life and so many who didn't want to see her die. In that moment, she was the only one out of all of them who had the opportunity to persuade Chloe to continue living…and she didn't even try. All she could think of was either to accept or refuse the request and, of course, Chloe was prepared for that.

The thought that she could convince her to live didn't even cross her mind and she regrets it now. What if that was really what Chloe wanted inside? To hear Max say that she wants her to live even in her miserable state?

The questions and doubts pile up and she slowly comes to the conclusion that she made an awful mistake. A mistake that, even if she could erase it through time travel, can't be taken from her mind.

The bus arrives at Blackwell and Max sludge off onto the campus. She stares at the chatting students around her and the bright sunlit lawn and it somehow makes her feel worse. As if she alone is unhappy. She decides she needs to go to her dorm room and sleep off today.

Along the way, her phone dings and she takes it out to find that she has several worried texts from Chloe. Not feeling up to responding, she ignores it.

"Max! Hey, Max!"

She stops turning to the voice calling out to her. Warren is there waving beside Brooke and Daniel. She really didn't want to talk or find out whatever antics the group is up to, but figures she can go say hi before asking to be excused to avoid being rude.

Forcing on a smile, she walks up to Warren, "Hey Warren, Brooke, Daniel. What's up, guys?"

Forced smile or not, she couldn't hide the tone of her voice. Fortunately, only Brooke seemed to have noticed and she indicates it with a raised eyebrow, but keeps silent to Max's gratefulness.

Warren is oblivious. He raised his hands in a dramatic gesture. "The subject…is time travel."

"What?"

"Two days ago, you asked me about time travel, right?" He asks in a more serious tone. "Well, I've been thinking a lot about it…"

"And dragging the rest of us into it." Brooke says in mock exasperation.

"…and I've been coming up with theories. We all did. Like how would it work, the paradoxes, and how to make it more efficient."

"Make time travel more efficient?" Max asks hesitantly. "Is that possible?"

"Why wouldn't it? It has to be done through some kind of time travel machine so we were theorizing about what kind of design would make it easier. Daniel here has been helping us by drawing designs."

The mentioned boy nods. "It's all so tough, though. Not merely because I have no idea what a time machine is supposed to look like, but everything is completely theoretical, so I almost have to guess the design. It's like trying to draw an imaginary friend based off of traits that are also imaginary."

Warren laughs. "Yeah, so we started with a drawing of this…" He lifts up a well drawn image of the DeLorean car from the movie 'Back to the Future'. "…and has since upgraded to this."

Another image. One of what looks like the DeLorean crunched into an oval containing a single door.

"It looks like the space pod from Dragon Ball Z, doesn't it?"

"I…guess." Max says hesitantly. "Why does it have to look like that, though? Why not stay a car?"

This earns her a contemptuous look from Brooke. "The idea behind it is that a car is inefficient. A real DeLorean contains an instrument cluster and a dash. A waste of space. It has a steering wheel, emergency brake, and pedals. What for? To control the direction and speed of time travel? Ridiculous."

"Perhaps not so much in the movie since the idea was that they needed to drive a certain speed to activate the flux capacitor, and you need those things in a car. In our design, though, time travel is simply, well, activated. No need to go up to 88MPH like in the movie."

"Remember that was there to begin with only because the DeLorean had a speedometer that went up to 85MPH." Brooke says light-heartedly to Warren. "There's a number of theories as to why this may be. One is that it may be symbolism that time travel is impossible."

"True, true." Warren nods. "But there may also be a scientific reasoning behind it. Perhaps it's an indication that the time travel hole needs to be opened a specific length of time to work. The DeLorean is exactly-"

"Ahem." Daniel clears his throat pointedly stopping the two. He turns to Max. "These two do this constantly. I've had to stop them several times already."

Smiling sheepishly, Warren says to Max, "The point is that all of this is to simply explore the idea of what the best medium for time travel may be. In addition to all the other issues it faces. I think we had some great talks already. Since I know you're interested, I was wondering if perhaps you might want to join in the conversation?"

Brooke's face turns sour at this idea and Max wasn't too keen on joining herself. Perhaps on another day, it would have been worth it simply to get an idea of what she can do with her powers, but today, she feels like shit and didn't want to do anything other than sleep until she can get her mind together.

"Maybe some other time, Warren, but not today."

Disappointment flits across his face. "Oh, that's alright. Maybe we'll have more interesting subjects tomorrow anyway. Right now, we're mostly focused on using the time pod as we call it. It's the best idea we came up with so far."

"I don't really know much about that." She says. "If I were to think of a medium for travel, the idea of using a machine wouldn't even go anywhere near my head."

"You wouldn't think of using a machine to time travel?" Brooke asks in outrage. "Then what would you possibly use? What else is there?"

Max hesitates. "Well, I was thinking perhaps…a photo."

This makes Brooke even angrier, but Warren merely laughs. "That's my Max. Thinking of photography at all times. How would you travel through time using a photo?"

"I was thinking that perhaps if you had a photo, you could jump into it."

"Jump into it?" Warren muses. "Assuming there's nothing special about this photo and the person is not using a machine, that would mean whoever is doing the jumping already has the power to time travel within themselves?"

She nods. "Exactly. So to jump to a certain time only requires a photograph."

Brooke sneers at her. "That is ridiculous. There's so many unanswered questions. Now assuming this person travels back in time, how would they go back to the future? No, Warren. No jokes about the movie." She quickly chastises Warren when he began grinning, then turns back to Max. "After all, there would logically be no photograph of the time from which that person came from. So wouldn't they be stuck in the past?"

Max could explain that the travel backwards was only temporary, but then that would bring questions of 'why' and she wouldn't be able to answer. Mainly because she has no idea how her powers work.

"Well, perhaps she could use a drawing?" The question was asked by Daniel. Max's eyes widen and she turns to him. "Why not? A photo is just a more sophisticated drawing using light. Drawing was how people took photographs before the invention of the camera. Would that work?"

Max bites her lips. "I…don't know."

"Isn't this your theory?" Brooke presses. "How could you not know?"

"Well, uh, I..."

"Chill, Brooke." Warren says causing a displeased look on her face. "She's probably just throwing ideas out there. I think it's a cool idea. Question is how elaborate would this photo have to be? Does it have to be super realistic? Or can it be as simple as a child's doodle?"

Brooke sighs and joins in the conversation. "It would have to be significantly realistic, I'd think. Because if not, then wouldn't too many things in nature activate the power? If the person saw a tree bark that looks too much like a place? Or a piece of bread that looks like a Victorian woman?"

Warren nods. "Plus, it must also contain enough detail to indicate time, right? Because if you drew a photo of the Eiffel Tower, how would the power know whether the photo is of the Eiffel Tower today or 300 years ago unless there was some detail to indicate it?"

"The Eiffel Tower isn't that old, Warren." Daniel says blandly.

"You know what I mean." He blushes. "I'm just saying it must have some indicative detail of the time."

As the three discusses the idea, Max finds herself rejuvenated. A strain of excitement goes through her as she too considers the possibility that this might actually work. Once she thought it could, another idea occurs to her.

"Is it possible…" She begins hesitantly. "…to use this power to travel forward? To the future?"

Daniel scrunches his face in confusion. "Use a drawing to travel to the future? But…how? Wouldn't we need to know what the future look like?"

"We can't in most cases," Brooke racks her mind. "but we can draw certain things to make it happen. Like Blackwell. Chances are it'll still be here in five years, right? Well, what if we had a drawing of the welcoming plaque except obviously aged a little."

"You mean with rust or cracks or something?"

Warren looks confused. "That would be really hard. I mean, we know the plaque will look worn and stuff, but we don't know how it'll happen. What if the cracks develop differently than how we drew it? Also, how do you get an exact time when you don't know when the cracks appear?"

The three falls into debate again, but Max didn't listen too closely. Another thought is flowing through her mind.

She and Chloe had been spending these past few days trying to find out what happened to Rachel Amber. What if she could skip the entire process and simply find the information out from the future? She could make Chloe happy – really happy.

And if she does so, perhaps she can be forgiven for what she did in the other timeline.

So all she'll have to do is travel to the future, find out what happened to Rachel Amber, then come back with the information. After all, the people of the future (if not they themselves) would have found out by then, right?

"What about a phone?" When the other three turns to look at Max, she continues. "A phone is easy to draw and it gives you the date. Wouldn't that work?"

"Well, that would be easy." Brooke snorts.

"No, wait, wait, it might just work." Warren says. "It's time travel so we naturally think that some overly convoluted process is needed to get it to work, but I don't see why this wouldn't. It fits all the criteria, right? It can be made – very realistically, if needed – and it would show exactly the information needed to indicate the time. It fits, right?"

Max hesitates a moment. "Daniel, could you please draw a photo?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Of a phone showing a future date?"

"Yes, please."

She takes out her own phone and hands it to him. As far as she knows, the photo or, in this case, drawing has to involve her somehow. If Daniel uses his own phone, it may not work.

He glance Warren and Brooke a bit unsure but takes Max's phone. Then he sits down and begins drawing. As with nearly every art student at Blackwell Academy, Daniel proves indisputably talented. His hands move in a blur and, within minutes, he has the general outline of the drawing down. Then he begins filling in the details.

Ten minutes passes, then fifteen. The three watches him the entire time mesmerized by the speed at which his creation took life. The only time he stopped was to check something on his own phone before getting back to work. Finally, he places his pencil down and gets up with the drawing he made in less time than it would take a single Blackwell class to complete. He hands it to Max.

It is, in a word, amazing.

To her surprise, he added in her right hand too and it is accurate considering he didn't even bother to glance at her hand the entire time he drew it. Did he actually draw her hand from memory? Without even taking a close look?

In the drawing, her hand covers most of the page and, in the few visible spots outside, there is well manicured grass. Obviously Blackwell's lawn. In her hand, of course, is her phone and it is no doubt the easiest part of the photo to draw. After all, it was only a rectangle with minor details here and there. In the middle of the phone is a simplistic lock screen. She is amazed that he drew in even the little details of her lock screen down to the battery bar, signal icon, and even the little transparent bar at the bottom that seems meaningless.

Right in the center of the lock screen is the time and date. Here, Max pauses in surprise.

"10:07 Monday, October 10, 2033?"

"Whoa." Warren awes. "Twenty years into the future?"

"I thought about using 1,000 years into the future, but decided twenty is safer." Daniel shrugs. "After all, Blackwell is unlikely to last that long and too many things will happen by then. I had to use my phone to look up what day of the week that would be."

Brooke nods appreciatively looking at the drawing. "That's good thinking and you got down the details. Jumping too far ahead might contain too many variables. For all we know, the entire planet could be underwater or full of radiation from a nuclear war by then. Things aren't likely to become disastrous in just twenty years."

Max glances at them, then looks down at the photo. She thinks of Chloe again. She is unsure of all this or if this would even work, but if there is even the slightest chance it would, she'll take it. She wants with all her heart to make Chloe happy.

Staring closely, she feels and hears nothing at first, but then…the sound of wind. She had almost thought it was from around her instead, but the wind is then followed by footsteps and people speaking. Then the familiar out of body feeling occurs and her sight distorts.

"Max? Are you alright?" Warren asks.

She ignores him. Just a little more.

The drawing seems to come to life and a series of color flits within it. Finally, the entire drawing turns into a blur and she knows this is the point where she must really concentrate.

She puts all her focus into it and does not blink. The feeling of her power stirring inside of her appears – like a dangerous but controlled swirling force. It starts inside her chest and slowly spreads outwards perceptibly gaining speed and power as it reaches her ribcage.

Here, it would normally feel strongest towards her arms but, as when she jumped into the photo of her and Chloe as children, the stirring spreads upwards traveling through her neck, her jaws, then settling around her eyes. Now the blurred drawing begins to clear as she concentrates harder.

When the blurriness drops away, the sound of wind, footsteps, laughter, and chatting grows louder and the drawing pops out becoming more lifelike. The flitting color now moves through the drawing rapidly then spreads outwards until it fills her entire vision.

Then things turn blinding.

When the mishmash of colors clears, she had to blink a few times to clear out the dryness and strain from her eyes. Feeling better, she looks up to find…Blackwell Academy. It had a series of students walking through it, talking, and playing games with each other.

"Did it work?" Max mutters to herself.

Feeling a weight in her hand, she is surprised to see that she's holding her phone. Was she just staring at it? Like in Daniel's drawing? Lifting it up, she tries to turn it on. It wouldn't. She keeps pressing the power button, but futilely.

"I don't get it." She says frustrated. "Is it out of battery? But it was half full a minute ago."

Putting it in her pocket, she stares around trying to see if anything significant changed. On a whim, she decides to walk inside Blackwell thinking there would be more major changes in there or, at least, she see the trophy case and note what sits there now.

As soon as she walks through the door, she stops seeing none other than Ms. Grant standing near the intersection of the hallway handing out flyers. A…visibly older Ms. Grant. The woman is a little thinner now and there are streaks of white in her hair.

Figuring it would be simpler to talk to her to get an idea of what may be happening, she walks up making sure to put on a sincere smile.

"Hello, Ms. Grant. How are you?"

"Hm? While I'm fine, you polite little thing." Ms. Grant turns around smiling.

That's when things went wrong.

Ms. Grant looks at her and freezes. Her eyes furrow in confusion and stares at her closely, then it widens and she drops all the flyers in her arms. At that point, she lets out a bloodcurdling scream that stops the entire hallway and has everyone staring. Then she sways and drops to the floor.

Max tries to catch her but misjudges badly and exacerbates the problem by maneuvering her in a way that has her lightly hitting her head against the corner and causing a bit of blood to spurt out. Lying Ms. Grant on the floor, Max gets up with bits of blood on her clothes feeling shaken.

The other kids are now whispering and staring. Some are clearly shouting for security and she sees some running into the principal's office too. Panic overcomes Max and she makes a run for it rushing outside the front doors, through the lawn, across the street, and keeps running until Blackwell was out of sight.

She rushes into a fast food restaurant and into the bathroom. There, she pants clutching at her chest feeling like she's about to die from exhaustion. Falling onto the floor leaning against the bathroom, she takes a moment to sort things out.

For the life of her, she can't figure out Ms. Grant's reaction to her. What in the world would make her scream and faint like that? And just from the sight of her. Is seeing Max really that incredible in the future? Maybe she's famous now like she always dreamed of being.

Except she can't help that think that the scream that Ms. Grant let out and her expression was one of horror, not admiration.

Biting her lips, Max takes a deep breath, then gets back up. She takes off her hoodie which contains the traces of blood and shoves the whole thing into the trash. She pauses when something suddenly occurred to her.

She ran all the way from Blackwell. When she jumped to the past using a photo, her movements was limited to a certain area and, furthermore, the jump lasted for a set period of time. However, here, she ran far from Blackwell and it has been about an hour already.

This is a level of freedom and control is more akin to after she saved William already and came back to find the present had changed. Why does jumping into the future seems to work almost as if she changed the past already? Unable to think of an answer, she shrugs it off, and leaves.

Outside, she walks down the street – opposite of Blackwell, of course – trying to think of what to do. Her first, best, and only idea is to call as many people she knew as possible starting with Chloe. Problem is that her phone appears to be out of battery and she left her charger inside her bag which she forgot at Chloe's house in a rush to leave.

Walking along the street, an idea happens to come to her. Literally. Max sees an approaching man staring down at his cell phone as he walks along the road. A lot of indecision passes through her, but as he nears, she takes the chance.

"Hello, sir?"

He stops and stares at her. "Yes?"

She tries to put on a cute smile. "I'm a little lost. Is it possible I could make a call on your phone to a friend of mine to pick me up?"

He hesitates a little, but giving her another once over, he probably figures that he could chase her down if she tries to steal his phone, so nods in agreement. Taking his phone, she enters Chloe's number which she memorized.

A voice returns announcing that the phone number is no longer in use.

Max's mouth drops a little in surprise. Swallowing, she smiles nervously at the man and asks for another minute. Then she tries for Chloe's house number instead. Thankfully, it rings. Once, twice, three times. She was about to be nervous that no one would respond when it gets picked up on the sixth ring.

"Hello?"A voice gruffly answers.

"Hello, I'm calling for Chloe Price."

Silence. "Who is this?"

After the incident with Ms. Grant, she feels it is prudent to not give out her name. "Oh, I'm her friend, uh, Brooke Scott. I was hoping to have a chat with her."

He snorts. "Some friend you are. You didn't even call the right number. Do you even know what happened with her?"

A cold feeling grips Max. "What do you mean? What happened with her?"

"I don't know if I should tell you. You seem awfully suspicious."

That voice and the suspicious nature. Why hadn't she noticed it before? She's talking to David Madsen, Chloe's stepdad. It's just…he sounds different.

"I'm not suspicious, David. It's just that…Chloe and I lost contact many years back. I'm calling because I was hoping to get into contact with her."

"How do you knowyou know what, nevermind. Look kid, the problem here is that I don't even know Chloe's number anymore. The damn girl cut contact off years ago. All I know is that she left for San Francisco."

"San Francisco? Where-"

"That's all I know, alright? You want to find out more? Then go there and find her yourself. Now don't bother me anymore."

He hangs up. Numbly, she lowers the phone and hands it back to the man who is now staring crossly at her.

"Nice call with your 'friend' there." He mutters and walks off.

Oh, she forgot she said told him that. Max licks her lips and takes a breath. She can't work off this. She needs to find a way to get more info out of David. She raises her hand to rewind.

Nothing happens.

"Oh no…oh no, please, no. Please don't do this to me."

She tries again and again concentrating and struggling to pull her power out more and more. With some effort, she feels some kind of light tugging inside of her where the powerful swirl should be residing and the world distorted a little, but otherwise, nothing happens.

The panic returns. Her powers are still there – she can feel something inside of her and it has a small effect – but she can't seem to use it at will anymore. This…might this also affect her ability to return home?

She crouches down feeling overwhelmed, but tries to fight it back. Taking several breaths with many promises to herself that she'll figure it out later, she gets up and tries to plan her next step. There doesn't seem to be any real plan, though.

Max has no idea what to do, though. She has no phone to contact anyone. Even if she did, there are very few numbers she memorized. She didn't even memorize her own parents' number figuring she could always turn to her contact list.

So no one to call, nowhere to stay, and everything she owns is either in her dorm or bag in the past. She is literally a homeless person right now.

The thought occurs that perhaps she should head to the Price house and hope that she can convince Joyce and David into letting her stay. Surely they still remember her? The problem with this is that, as Ms. Grant shows, there may be some problem in that. How would Joyce and David react in seeing her? Would it be as awful? Would she end up giving one or both of them a heart attack?

Then a crazy idea occurs to her. She tries to correct herself calling it a 'creative' idea instead but her logical side rejects it completely. It's a crazy idea.

Her idea is to go to San Francisco and try to find Chloe who would absolutely remember her and welcome her with open arms.

Even the idea of being 'welcomed' sounds strange. If anything, wherever Chloe is right now, her future self must be with her too, and Chloe must be losing her mind wondering where she went. So her first priority should be to go to San Francisco and find Chloe.

This is a crazy idea, of course, because she has no method of getting to San Francisco. A car would be awesome, except she has none and she isn't reckless enough to try to hitchhike all the way to San Francisco. She could call Chloe to come all the way to Arcadia Bay to pick her up, except she doesn't know her new number.

Max bites her lips. A bus would work. It would take forever to reach San Francisco from Arcadia Bay, but it is cheap and accessible. Again, though, she would need money. How can she possibly get some now in a timely manner? Beg?

A thought occurs to her. There is a way she can get possibly enough money to use the bus. Making haste, Max heads off knowing where she is intending to go. Along the way, she sees a few signs that confirm what she's has been suspecting: that she is in 2033. The idea worked, God bless Daniel.

Arriving at her destination, Max lets out a relieved sigh to see that it's still there. The Arcadia Bay Public Library.

She walks in and signs the register to be given a timecard for computer usage. From there, her hopes begin to be realized. She goes to her bank's website and login. It takes a moment where she holds her breath, but then it works and relief flows through her. So her bank account still works even twenty years later. That means her future self is still using it.

Checking the account summary, her mouth drops. The summary states she has $73.09.

After twenty years, she has a measly $73? That's only a dollar more than what she had in 2013. So she's still poor even twenty years later? Exactly what does she do for work? …is she working at all? Or is she unemployed?

Well, whatever her future self is, she is going to be very upset when she tries to use her bank account one day only to find it empty because her past self essentially robbed her. The thought makes Max guilty, but it can't be helped. This is an emergency.

Plus, it's for all their sake anyway. Once she finds Chloe, she can tell Max what happened with Rachel Amber, then she'll travel back to the past and she can reveal everything. A momentary flash of the other Chloe's dead face appears before Max pushes it away. She can't let that affect her now.

She notes down the routing and account number, then opens the bus website and schedules a ticket from Arcadia Bay to San Francisco. The location is about an hour's walk and she would have to wait another hour there for the bus to arrive…then the trip itself is a numbing 18 hours with three transfers. She'll arrive there early morning of the next day.

Having no choice, she chooses the trip. At the end, the total comes to $69. Max is held back by a slight moment of doubt, then enters in her bank info and clicks 'Accepts'. A moment later, the ticket is processed and she prints it out using the library's printer.

Stuffing the printout in her pocket, she takes the first step of a long trip to the area where the bus will stop. She takes a deep breath knowing it will be painful.

As it turns out, 'painful' doesn't even begin to describe it. Walking to the bus stop wasn't bad, but the ride itself was torture. The seat was reasonably comfortable, but no amount of that could mitigate sitting in the same spot for hours, which was made worse by the utter lack of entertainment. She had nothing to keep her occupied.

The few times she got out for a transfer was actually a blessing as she could then stretch and move her body before subjecting them to sitting again. When possible, she grabbed any source of reading materials before forced back onto the bus. Even those stupid car and home sales booklets were taken.

By the time she arrived in the city, her mind felt like a hazy mush. Like she's been in an endless, restless sleep…which is exactly what happened. She found it impossible to sleep on that bus.

When it stopped in San Francisco and the bus drops her off in the heart of the city, she drags herself off feeling more and more exhausted with each step. She even had to sit down again at the bus stop to take a breather. She had to rest after an exhausting 18 hours of sitting and sleeping.

An hour later, Max feels enough of her energy and senses return to begin searching. It is early morning so she has plenty of time. Considering how massive this city is, she'd need it too. The sheer breadth of things she sees in every direction is enough to overwhelm her mind and make her lose hope, but she fights it enough justifying that every hard task begins somewhere. So she begins her hard task by choosing a random direction.

She tries to keep her mind focused, but couldn't. Frankly, she didn't even know what to look for. The best idea she had involved looking for anyone with a blue head of hair when, for all she knows, Chloe could be a different shade altogether. Or even went back to her natural blonde.

Plus this is her first time in San Francisco and the city is amazing. It reminds her of Seattle, though there is a noticeable difference in demographics. Max looks at the people around her in awe. There is a huge amount of Asian people here. It's a big difference from what Seattle looks like and is completely alien compared to Arcadia Bay.

Public transport dominates the streets or, at least, is much more visible. There are also parks everywhere and they're all huge and beautiful. Arcadia Bay has far more nature than San Francisco does, yet the latter seem to have more and much better parks. Arcadia's parks – the few there are – are small, dilapidated, and feels thoughtless.

Max splits her time between examining this new city she never knew before and trying to continue her mission of finding her friend. She travels in one direction, takes a random turn, then, some time later, takes another random turn. At times, she discovered she went in a circle. At other times, she comes to vaguely familiar areas. Then there are times when she is completely unfamiliar with an area and has to keep walking until she sees a street she recognizes.

This confused and disorganized mission continues for hours with small breaks in-between until, at last, she comes to one of the many parks and takes a breather on the grass trying to think of how to proceed. Plus she's hungry. She hasn't eaten since she got to the future and, the entire day, she's been hearing a low rumbling sound indicating her stomach isn't happy.

Staring around trying to distract herself, her eyes land on a black and white poster with a face on it. Remembering how Chloe used to search for Rachel when she went missing, Max pushes herself off and goes over to look.

Her hopes are quickly dashed. There is a face on the poster, but it is a simple drawing of a nondescript figure. The poster is not searching for anyone, but advertising. It appears to be an ad for an upcoming art exhibit.

Skimming down to the bottom, Max catches something significant. The place of the exhibition is a self-described 'art house' and what gets her focus is the name.

"The Victoria Space?" She whispers to herself. "The Victoria Space?"

It couldn't be.

Yet Max recalls that the Victoria she knew had parents who own something called The Chase Space in Seattle. Is it a coincidence that, in a major west coast city relatively close to Arcadia Bay and Seattle, there is an art exhibit with such a striking name?

She runs her eyes over the ad again. Another part of it states that 'pre-showings' are available and open to the public without charge for a week prior to the actual exhibition. Furthermore, complimentary dishes and drinks are offered.

Her stomach rumbles angrily again and Max couldn't help the images of burgers and hot dogs that comes to mind. It only takes a second longer before she decides to go to The Victoria Space and it doesn't take much to justify the decision.

To begin, it's getting close to the end of the day with no progress at all, and she has no clue where to go from here. Second, Victoria came from Arcadia Bay and Chloe has mentioned to her before that she had clashes with her in the past, so they know each other. It wouldn't hurt to check to see if Victoria might know where she and Chloe live or at least the general area where they may be.

If nothing else, this place is offering free food and she has no money to buy her own.

Checking the address, Max treks towards the destination using the free city map she gotten from the visitor's office as a guide. Some half an hour or so later, she arrives at a site that instantly gives her doubts that this place is run by the Victoria she knows.

The blonde is solidified in her mind as infinitely haughty, arrogant, and, more relevantly, high fashion and high price. In short, the exact opposite of what this place seem to be.

The 'art house' she arrived at has 'The Victoria Space' in some weird font that does look a little neat during the day…but would probably be very hard to read at night due to the way it's shaped and colored. Beneath this proudly displayed title is what looks like a converted grocery store.

The front is glass and Max can see the entire place through it. Literally the entire place. She could see one end to the other and there are only two doors and a stairwell leading up. One of the doors is listed 'bathroom' – no gender differentiation – and the other door is listed 'Employees Only'. The stairwell is also roped off with a sign saying 'off-limits'.

It doesn't look anything like the kind of place she can imagine Victoria Chase owning. It's not big enough. Not expensive looking enough. Not 'showy' enough.

Perhaps she should have gotten a clue from the ad saying open to the public and offering free food. When has Victoria gotten involved in anything that's not exclusive and only available to the wealthy/talented?

Now filled with doubts, Max thinks that perhaps she should try somewhere else. Her stomach sends her a sharp pain at the thought and, of course, that's when she notices the table of food inside the art house.

Well, it can't hurt to try.

Max cautiously walks through the door. She stands at the front a minute waiting to see if anyone pops up. When no one does, she walks towards the food table. There, she stops in confusion.

"What…is this?"

The table is a rainbow of dishes and she didn't recognize a single one. She looks down at a large plate nearest to her to examine more closely. The dish is comprised of what appears to be nuts assembled alongside a piece of cheese cut in the shape of an apple slice. The two are circled by some sort of red fruit and all of them sit atop a leaf of what looks like strangely colored Napa cabbage leaf.

It's actually really beautiful, but Max is more concerned with whether it tastes good. Hesitantly, she picks up a sample and bites into a part of it…then grimaces. It's not the worst tasting thing she's had, but it's definitely an acquired taste.

Not wanting to waste the food, she finishes it off then moves on to try the other dishes. After some time of this, she certainly feels fuller though she has yet to find a dish she really likes. She will give compliments to whoever made it, though. Every single dish is beautiful.

The sound of a door opening grabs her attention from the food table. She turns and meets eyes with a young brunette woman. Well, meet eyes only for a moment before the woman's clothes takes all her focus.

She is wearing a dress where the design is split down the middle. The right side of the dress appears to be a simple, but classy beige design. The left side…is a complete mishmash of colors that resembles a Jackson Pollack painting except set to a floral design.
The final jewel of this fashion ensemble is knee high leather boots.

The woman notices Max's stare and smiles pleasantly. "Like it? It has a message, you know."

"It…does?"

Nodding, she points to the right side. "See this? It looks nice, right? Good material, simple coloring, and flattering. This is the kind of clothes you can see any woman wearing. It represents control. This is what a person would consciously choose to wear."

She switches to the left side. "This, though, is anarchy. The coloring looks like something a kid thrown onto a canvas without thought and it's shaped like a flower for seemingly no reason other than maybe because the author likes it. It represents the chaos that can happen to anyone without rhyme or reason."

"Now my boots?" She gestures below. "My niece liked it and put it in my shoe closet without asking me. It indicates the effect other people have on our lives with or without us wanting it."

"The entirety of this represents life. The choices we make, the choices forced onto us, and the chaos that surrounds both aspects. All of these define us as a person and I wear it to show that visually."

Max blinks. She blinks again. "Oh, that's really neat. Uh, what brand is it?"

"The Emily Ruby brand." She grabs Max's hand and shakes it. "I'm Emily Ruby – well, my last name isn't really 'Ruby' but I chose it because I liked it – and I made this dress exclusively for myself to wear. My personal message to the world. Now, honey, who would you be?"

"I'm Max Caulfield."

"Max. Caulfield." She repeats to herself. "I can tell already that you're an individual. You know how? Because you present yourself with that name. I'm guessing your real name is Maxine. Even if it wasn't, that's how an ordinary person would present herself. The fact that you willingly call yourself 'Max' tells me you are who you are and don't care what anyone thinks."

Oh, how Max wishes that was true.

"So Max, what brings you to The Victoria Space? Are you interested in our art pieces? Are you into art or know someone who is?"

She tries to smile widely not sure if she succeeded. "I am kind of an artist, I guess. I'm into photography and I attended a well known art school in Arcadia Bay called Blackwell Academy. I saw your flyer and-"

"This is destiny." Emily interrupts startling Max. "There is no other explanation for it. To think that someone else from my beloved alma mater should come here."

"You're a Blackwell student?"

"Class of 2025!" She declares proudly. "One of the happiest times of my life and the whole reason I got hired here. I came in with samples of my best clay sculptures, but Victoria – she's the manager here – was more interested in catching up with me about Blackwell. She gave me a chance based off of that."

"Truth is I never intended to stay more than maybe a year or two but I really fell in love with this beautiful art house." She touches her lips in amusement. "Perhaps Victoria knew me better than I knew myself."

"So Max, you look young. You're actually still in Blackwell right now, correct? How is school there? Are all my old teachers still there? Is Mr. Tomasz still teaching culture there?"

Sweat drips down her head. This is not good. She has no idea who Mr. Tomasz is and there's a chance many of the teachers she had as a student might not be there. She doesn't even know if Wells is still the principal or not.

"Well, Blackwell is…the same as usual. My favorite class is photography, but I think the teacher I like best is Ms. Grant."

"No surprise there. Ms. Grant is everywhere and she's a doll, ain't she? Tell me more. How's our favorite club doing? Still living it up?"

"Oh yeah, the Vortex Club still parties all the time. You know how it is."

Except she apparently doesn't. Emily's eyes furrow in confusion.

"The…Vortex Club? What? Is that a new club?"

"Isn't that what you were referring to?"

"No, I meant the Event Horizon Club. That is Blackwell's big club. What is the Vortex Club?"

Max's heart quickens a bit. The Vortex Club is gone today? From the sound of things, it's been gone for at least eight years. Maybe even longer if Emily's complete lack of knowledge about it is a clue.

"O-oh, the Vortex Club is a new thing. I'm guessing you might not be aware since you're not there anymore." Max laughs nervously.

Emily isn't amused. Her eyes narrow. "I've been there last week on a visit. I always get calls from some of my teachers regularly too telling me about what's happening there. Do you really go to Blackwell, Max?"

She swallows feeling pressured. "Well, not exactly. See, I used to go there, b-but-"

"And when was this-" Emily cuts her off. "-if you don't even seem to be aware of the biggest and only club at Blackwell? I think you're lying to me, Max."

"No, no, I'm not!"

"Really? So if I were to ask you who the principal is, you would know?"

Max smiles shakily. "It's Principal Wells."

Emily's eyes turn cold. "Principal Wells retired even before I graduated. It was due to stress and personal issues. Max, you are free to view the art pieces and partake of the refreshments as you wish. If you need my assistance, I'll be available."

She burns in shame as Emily turns to walk away. Before she makes it too far, though, footsteps come from the stairwell. A mature looking woman with spiky blonde bangs comes downstairs and looks at Emily who returns the gaze warmly. She turns to Max putting on a small greeting smile then freezes.

Her eyes widen in an almost comical fashion as she takes a deep hissing gasp. It takes Max a moment, but the features of the woman soon becomes familiar as she embeds it over a more familiar face in her mind. At that point, her mouth drops too. It's Victoria Chase.

A…very different looking Victoria Chase. Aside from her hair now in a short 'spiky bangs' style, her clothes is a stylish though more conservative white blouse and maroon blazer over matching slacks. Her shoes are a plain pair of red flats.

The biggest difference, though, are the eyeglasses she's now wearing. It's a sleek semi-rimless one that reminds her of the one Mr. Jefferson wears and, added to Victoria's aged face, it changes her appearance greatly.

The two stare at each other wordlessly trying to figure out how to proceed from here. Emily notices this immediately and she looks between the two in confusion. After a length of this, Victoria takes the lead. She puts on a smile again, though an uncertain one.

"And who might you be, dear?"

Max swallows unsure how she should answer. Victoria's reaction to seeing her didn't look all too good plus the memory of Ms. Grant's reaction is still fresh in her mind. Briefly, the idea to call herself Brooke Scott passes her mind, but that might not fly too well when she already gave her real name to Emily.

As it turns out, she didn't need to decide. Emily freely offers Victoria the information.

"She introduced herself as Max Caulfield." Emily says and adds blandly. "She tells me she's a Blackwell student, though she couldn't seem to tell me what it's like there or who works there."

Max thought that was a little unfair. She managed to get Ms. Grant right.

"Instead, she mentions a non-existent club and a principal that retired years ago."

Victoria cocks her head a little. "Is that so? Which club?"

"Vortex Club."

A strange emotion passes through Victoria's face. She licks her lips a little and smiles at Max more steadily.

"I see. Max, would it be possible for us to speak upstairs in my office?" This earns her a strange look from Emily. "I promise it won't be long."

Max looks between the two women then nods hesitantly. Victoria's smile becomes brighter and she gestures for Max to follow along. The two walk upstairs and turn a corner going into a room that looks more like an oversized closet than an office. She doubts it could have fit five people at once.

This is especially since it's packed with stuff. There were obviously work materials like folders of art samples and business communications, but there were also a lot of figurines, posters, and Blu-Rays. They were definitely not related to Victoria's work because they were mostly anime. In one shelf, Max spots a limited edition Blu-Ray of Star Trek. Star Trek. In Victoria Chase's office.

She wonders if she accidentally went into an alternate universe. This can't be the future where the Victoria she knows exists.

"Have a seat, Max."

She complies and, to her surprise, Victoria takes the seat besides her instead of at her work desk. The smile on her face falls off into apprehension as she leans in. It takes her a moment to get the words out.

"So your name is Max Caulfield?" Max nods in confirmation cautiously. "Don't be nervous. It's just…well, I'm wondering…gosh, I don't know how to say this."

Victoria pinches the bridge of her nose a little. Then she cups her palms over her mouth and takes a breath before continuing.

"Listen, this may sound a little weird but humor me, okay? See, I used to know someone named Max Caulfield and she looks shockingly like you." Victoria runs her eyes slowly over Max's face and body making her blush a little. "Extremely like you. I can't remember that well anymore, but I swear you even wear the same type of clothing."

"So seeing you alone hit me like a train, but what's more is the things you're saying. You say you go to Blackwell. Emily says you mentioned our retired principal – that means Principal Raymond Wells. What really gets me is that you mentioned the Vortex Club. Is that right?"

Max nods slowly. "Yes, well, I thought the Vortex Club was still around. I didn't know anything about this Event Horizon club."

"The Vortex Club…" Victoria says wistfully. "…was disbanded about two years after I graduated in 2013. After Nathan and I left Blackwell, it just had trouble running itself. After all, it was mostly run on alcohol and drugs, and we were the only ones who could reliably get both."

"The Event Horizon club is mostly just booze and teen romance in addition to the usual high school shtick." Victoria laughs good-naturedly. "That's why it started up and how it kept itself running for all these years. It helps that it's also way more inclusive than the Vortex Club ever was."

Victoria leans back and sighs. After a moment of silence, she speaks in a more subdued voice.

"Max, would it be too much if I ask you to stay with me for a week? Or at least a few days?"

"What?"

"Don't run already, please. It's just…" She sighs again running her hand over her hair. "I'm having a bit of a crisis. I don't like to think of myself as a person who easily falls for anything, though I do like to presume the best of everyone I meet. You? If you are trying to pull one over on me, you're doing the best job of anyone who ever tried. More than a few times now, I…I honestly thought you were the Max Caulfield."

"I don't understand." Max says confused. "You think I'm, uh, the 'Max Caulfield' you know, so it's giving you a crisis? And you want me to stay over for this? Why? What for?"

Victoria withers a little. "I've done terrible things, Max. I've hurt a lot of people. Sometimes for personal gain, sometimes for no reason. For the longest time, it didn't bother me. As time passed, though, the regrets I've always held in the back of my mind built up and…I think I have to a lot to make up for."

A new light in understanding slowly dawns in her as to the person that Victoria Chase transformed into over the years. A person who, maybe, is actually really nice and has things she regrets and wants to make up for. Only problem is what does she have to do with it?

"I still don't understand, Victoria. How would I help you with that?"

"It's how much you resemble the Max I know. She's one of the people I want to apologize to and, well, never got the chance. I'm not so blind as to think there aren't people I've hurt worse, but I've always felt like I owe Max the most. Somehow, it's been a sort of mental block to me."

"I think it's because I centralized all my feelings around her. The regrets are the worst when I think about her. She was just such a better person than me and, I don't know, it's just like I can't help but feel I can't start…I guess you can call it 'redemption' until I start with her."

"Victoria...I'm- that is, she isn't a paragon of virtue. There are things she's done too. Terrible things." A quick replay of her hand inching towards Chloe's IV dial plays in her mind. "Far, far worse things than you did. Besides, there are- might be people you owe much more to than her."

Staring at Max contemplatively, Victoria continues. "I'm not naïve, Max. I know Max – my Max – isn't a perfect angel. I also know there are those I've done far worse to. The situation with her is so much different, though. It's…just not easy to explain and nothing I've tried has allowed me to get through the wall in my mind."

Her eyes filled with wonder. "With you here, though, it's…it's like the block is slowly lifting. I've spoken about this problem to a select few people only. Most of which have been therapists or very close family members only. Now I find myself confessing all of this to a random girl who just walked into my gallery."

She clasps one of Max's hands and pleads. "So please, Max. Stay with me for a short while. Just until I figure a few things out."

Max remembers times when some people would give her things and it seems like such an overly kind gesture that she feels uncomfortable accepting the gift as it seems too much. She now has a woman in front of her pleading with her to stay with her.

She would be the one doing Max a favor, yet she's treating it as the other way around.

"Victoria, I'll seriously be happy to. I…" She swallows and decides to be honest. "I came here after riding a bus for almost an entire day straight using the last bit of money in my bank account. I don't have a car, I don't have anywhere to stay, and I haven't even eaten anything the entire time until I got to the free food here. It's you that's helping me."

"Say no more." Victoria smiles confidently. "I asked you to stay for a week, but trust me, stay for as long as you want. I'll be happy to be your frien- your host."

Max catches that slip. "No, we're better than guest and host. We're friends."

This earns a bright smile from Victoria. The blonde woman gets up and offers Max a hand.

"It's late. Let me take you back to my place and show you to your room."

Taking Victoria's hand to get up, she then follows the woman downstairs. Below, Emily was sitting near the front looking over sample portfolios when their appearance gets her attention. She gives both a curious look.

"Emily, I'm going home early tonight. Would you mind closing up?"

"No, I'm cool with that." She says giving Max a look. "Is she going with you?"

"Yes. She's a good friend of mine."

This throws Emily off but she remains silent. Victoria leaves the store and Max scurries after avoiding looking at Emily who stares at her openly. Outside, they get into Victoria's car – a tiny electric car that feels cramped even with only them two – and they drive off.

The house they pull up to is a small, cozy looking place. Victoria pulls inside a tight garage and Max had to struggle a little to get out.

"Here." Victoria throws her a set of keys. "The one you need is the teal key. Only the doorknob is locked. Go on ahead, I need to plug in my car."

She does as instructed throwing a glance back on her way out at Victoria wiggling around trying to get ahold of her socket extension. On the way to the front door, she stares in amazement at the eye-popping blend of color and beauty that overwhelms the area around the house and is visible even at night. The same can be said of every other house on the block for that matter. Does everyone here use the same gardener?

Going inside the house, she turns on the lights to reveal what looks like an extension of The Victoria Space. Art pieces are everywhere, though in much greater variety and of many more different cultures than what can be found in the art house. Behind her, Victoria steps in and closes the door.

"C'mon, I'll show you around. This is the living room."

She takes Max around the house showing her the kitchen, bedrooms – there were three in total in the house and Max's is to be the one besides hers – the attic and basement, and even takes her to the backyard proudly showing her carefully raised organic garden.

Afterwards they head back to the living room where Victoria slides onto her couch sighing in relief. "So are you tired or hungry? My home is your home, so take whatever you want."

"Thanks. You're too nice." Max glances around. "This is a nice place, but, to be honest, I didn't expect your place to look like this."

"Really? All my friends tell me that it fits me perfectly. I suppose that you, being Max Caulfield, would know a very different me."

Max raises an eyebrow. "Your friends say this fits you? Do you agree?"

"I decorated this place, Max. I can't help but agree." Victoria looks at her curiously. "I…think I changed a lot over the years. I like to think I did anyway. Tell me. Do you think I'm different?"

"Are you kidding? When I first came to The Victoria Space-" Victoria pats the spot on the couch besides her and Max gratefully takes a seat. "-I nearly walked away thinking this couldn't yours. It just screamed something completely different. Then when you first walked down the stairs, I didn't even recognize you at first. You changed so much."

Victoria bites her lips. "I'm definitely different physically, yeah, but I was asking more like do you think I change inside?"

Max nods. "No doubt. I can't even imagine sitting here chatting like this with the Victoria I used to know. Hell, back then, I don't think you would even let me into your dorm for a minute, nonetheless your house for a week."

"Yes, I remember this. I used to make fun of you all the time. I can't even remember all the things I said to you."

"I can't either." Max laughs. "The one I remember are just the ones you say the most. You like calling me loser, hipster, and I think I heard 'selfie ho' once or twice."

"I remember that!" Victoria grins. "I feel bad for joking about this. I feel like I shouldn't but you're laughing too…"

"It's okay. With you, it feels like I'm talking about a different person."

The woman's smile brightens dramatically. "I'm happy to hear. I've been thinking about this since I first heard the words Vortex Club from Emily. I haven't thought about it in so long that even hearing it brought memories flooding in. There's so much I forgot and so much I didn't want to remember."

"Can you even remember much if you wanted to?" Max asks cheekily. "Most of your time at Blackwell was parties. All alcohol and drugs."

"Don't I know it? But I've been clean and sober for years now. Well, aside from a small glass of wine now and then. Getting blacked out drunk is more of a young thing, you know."

Max scratches behind her ears. "I don't think I do. I've never been much of a drinker." She yawns a bit. "The worst I've ever did was sneak a bit of wine with my friend when I was a kid."

Victoria notices the yawn. "If you're tired, feel free to go to bed. I don't want to keep you up. We can always talk later."

"Well, I am a little tired. I've been walking nearly the entire day searching this city up and down. Then there was also that ridiculous bus ride."

Victoria perks up. "Why? Are you looking for something?"

"Well, more like someone. I'm sure you know her. Chloe Elizabeth Price? That's who I've been looking for."

She bites her lips. "The name is vaguely familiar to me, but it's not bringing up a face."

"Oh. Don't worry about it." Max says disappointed. She knows this means Victoria doesn't know where Chloe is. "It's been a search and I don't have many clues to begin with, but I will keep trying."

"I'm sorry. I really do want to help."

"It's not your fault. Don't worry." She tries to puff up a little trying to be funny. "I'm tough, Victoria."

"You are. After all, you're…" Victoria says a little breathlessly and wide eyed. "Max Caulfield. So unbelievable."

The look in her eyes made Max distinctly uncomfortable. There is something strange in it and it gives her the same feeling she got from Ms. Grant.

"Victoria, I have a question. When you first saw me today, your reaction was…really extreme. Thing is that I got the same reaction from others who know me too. Why, though? Everyone is acting like I'm a monster or something when they see me. What's going on?"

"Well, Max, it is only natural considering the circumstances around you. You can't blame us for acting so surprised after seeing someone we haven't seen for twenty years."

"What circumstances? Even if I decided not to visit for two decades, I still don't see why people should scream bloody murder just from seeing me. Did I do something bad?"

The blonde woman furrows her eyes in confusion then they slowly widen in realization.

"You…don't know. My God, you don't know what happened twenty years ago."

Dread rises in her. "Victoria, what happened twenty years ago?"

The blonde opens her mouth then closes it again. She takes a deep breath and her shoulders slump heavily. At last, she whispers.

"On October 10th, 2013, Max Caulfield died."