Two years. They had been adults for two fucking years and Chloe still doodled pirate crossbones on Max's papers. Max smiled surreptitiously and continued to scratch away at her paperwork.
Chloe was out today. She'd gone to cover someone's shift at the local bakery. She'd been excited to do it, too. Max couldn't help but grin at the thought - Joyce would be proud that Chloe had inherited her mother's knack for cooking.
Max sat back in her chair, retreating from the overhaul of unending signature lines in this contract. She'd been chosen as the primary photographer for a line of cereal boxes - which paid more than what she actually wanted to do. A month ago, a man had come to her and requested to be her agent. This was after Max had (finally) entered a photo in a local contest and won. She was actually being recognized in their new town now. The man had given Max the spiel.
She would be great.
She would go places.
She had 'the eye'.
Max shivered at the memory.
She still couldn't bear to stand in a room filled with photography equipment. Her dreams felt broken. Max sighed and continued filling out the contract for the cereal company. At least she would be taking pictures of food and children. Perfectly likable things.
Her phone rang, jarring Max from her thoughts and causing her to blot her ink. Why didn't she just fill this out online? Oh right...Chloe had the laptop today. Max swiped at her phone and answered.
"Hello?"
""Miss-is this..." a young man cleared his throat nervously, "is this Miss Caulfield?"
"Yes," she answered, "Max". She inwardly smacked herself. Old habits...
"Uhm," he continued, "You have been requested at the local police station. We uh..." a crinkling sound as he fumbled with a sheet of paper, "we, uh, have a problem." He must have been really new at this.
Max pinched the bridge of her nose. "What's the problem?"
"We..." he hesitated, "we need you to identify a body."
Max's insides turned to ice. Not again.
"Where do I go?" she asked in a hard voice. He gave her an address and she hurried out after grabbing her bag.
She arrived at the station. She expected the outdoors to reflect her feelings, but the building was very normal, the landscape serene. The sun was setting in the distance and darkness began to curl around the sky. Max's heart sank lower than the sun as she steeled herself for what she was about to find out.
She pulled open the doors to the station and looked around. A young man met her gaze with a nervous smile. He sat at - she'd guessed it - the front desk. He looked scraggly, like he didn't eat enough. Brownish hair swept across his forehead and stuck up in random places on top.
"Max Caulfield?" he raised an eyebrow at her. She could only nod. The man stood up quickly. Too quickly. Max bit her cheek against the flood of adrenaline and her instincts screaming Rewind!
"Follow me, please," he gestured toward the hallway.
Max folded her arms and held them close to her chest, trying not to shake. It was cold and empty in the station. The man led her through a pair of white double doors. He walked strangely - with a nervous slouch. Max wished he would walk faster. The longer she spent in rooms like this, the worse she felt. The walls were bare; a grimy off-white color. Some of the overhead lights flickered now and then, sending shivers through Max. It was so blank, so white, so hideous. Except for one spot that looked...red? Was that blood? It swam in the corner of her eye. Max blinked and it was gone. Her heart sped. She did a double-take and looked around almost frantically, hoping to spot the blood again. But it had been her imagination - or a trick of the light. She hoped.
"Miss Caulfield?" Max jumped at the call of her name. Had that been...
Max suddenly realized she had stopped walking. "S-sorry," she continued, gripping her arms tighter.
"It's just ahead," he said in a more comforting voice. Max forced herself to follow him through the next door.
He opened the door and she saw a wall of crime scene photos. She gave a pathetic squeak. Get it together, Max! He picked up a file on a table and handed it to Max. She opened it and peered at the glossy photos of the body. She fought flashbacks of the last body she'd seen like this. Rachel...
"Oh, you knew her?" the man asked. Max blinked and looked confused at him. Had she said that out loud?
"No, I..." she looked down at the photos, "Sorry I was..." she trailed off as she saw the body in the pictures. Bleached blond hair matted a peaceful face, Max tried to ignore the pool of blood she slept in. A round face and plump lips were decorated with pink makeup, but the lipstick was smeared slightly. She wore a flowery dress and hip hugging jeans.
"So, you know her?" the man asked again. Max almost sighed with relief, but she couldn't keep it out of her eyes. "No. I don't."
"You sound...surprised." he said, taking the folder back.
"I am. I thought..." Max pushed back her worst case scenario thoughts. "Why am I here?" she asked harshly. She was suddenly angry. Angry that they had called her in here. Angry that it had brought back old memories. Angry that she had thought...
...Chloe...
She wanted to find her and throw herself in Chloe's arms.
"Um -" he cut off her thoughts, "you were specifically requested. Our suspect said you would know who this was and who killed her..." he explained.
"Suspect?" Max bristled. He turned around and opened another door. It led to what looked like a poorly lit waiting room with low-budget school chairs lining the walls.
Chloe sat handcuffed in one of them. She saw Max and beamed at her. She gave Max a little finger-wave with her blue painted nails. Max rubbed her temples. "What did you do?"
Chloe's face hardened and Max clamped her jaw shut.
"May I speak with her in private?" Chloe asked the man. He looked like a deer in headlights.
"Uh, no...sorry. We can't leave you unattended."
"Well, could you put us in one of those interrogation rooms? Lock the doors?" Chloe asked. "I'll keep the cuffs," she grinned, waving her arms. Her wrists bumped together as she jangled the handcuffs, her tattoo danced happily down her arm.
"I...I..." the poor guy looked so lost.
"Brian," a gruff voice called from down the hall. Heavy footsteps echoed in the blandness of the room. The younger man, Brian, looked over to the newcomer. "Let them in. I'll question them myself," the officer growled. Brian nodded and stepped across the room to - yet another door.
So many doors...
Max shook her head. She and Chloe entered the interrogation room and sat next to each other. Brian stood at the door holding it ajar. "Officer Coots will be with you shortly," he said and pulled the door shut with a creak.
Chloe grinned at Max, "Coots?"
Max glared at her. Chloe sighed. "Did you bring your camera?" she asked seriously.
"Chloe..." Max knew where she was going with this.
"Did you?" Chloe demanded.
"Of course," Max groaned defeatedly.
"Okay. Take one now," it almost sounded like an order. Max pulled out the vintage camera Chloe had given her two years ago. She grimaced as she posed. The flash was blinding. She looked up from the lens and gazed at his angular face, beard groomed professionally, square black and white glasses, with those eyes. Those predator eyes gazing back at her like prey-
No! It's just a dream- a flashback.
Max rubbed her eyes and looked again. Chloe stared back at her with worried eyes.
Max didn't take many selfies anymore. Once a week, she and Chloe would take her picture - just in case. Every time, Max had to hold back tears. It brought her mind back to the Dark Room.
But it was worth it. For Chloe.
"You okay, Max? I'm sorry...I know it's hard..." Chloe looked so sad. She'd been there for Max after everything. Arcadia Bay, the Dark Room, the Nightmares. Chloe had sat and listened. Had held Max close, rocked her, soothed her, whispered in her ear during those nights when sleep eluded Max; when the images of Rachel, Kate, herself- everyone haunted her.
Chloe had made up for her mistakes time and time again over the past two years. She was worth the turmoil Max put herself through every week. To make sure she would always have Chloe's back. To keep her safe. Max tried not to think about all she had done to save her. Tears welled up, but Max pushed them back. There was no time to feel sorry for herself right now.
"What happened?" Max asked, trying to keep her voice level.
Chloe sighed again and leaned close enough for Max to smell her shampoo. "You photo-hopped," she whispered.
Max felt her heart plummet. "When?"
"Two days ago. You warned me that I was going to die."
Max wiped her already sweating brow. She had been freezing earlier, now she felt like she was being grilled. "Okay, when does it happen? What do we need to change?"
Chloe bit her lip, a guilty look on her face. "I uhhh...I actually already changed stuff..."
"What? Like what!" Max tried to keep herself calm.
Chloe nodded towards the door, "I was supposed to die with her." Max gaped. So, she had been right - sort of. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Max snapped.
"I-I'm sorry! I thought I could fix it on my own. I didn't want you to have to go through all of that again!" she pleaded, hoping Max would understand. Max tried to sort through her feelings, but time was running out. The officer would be here soon.
"Okay, just tell me what happened Chloe."
Chloe continued, "Well, you told me when and where it was going to happen. I was planning to go to the park today and meet Stacy," she looked mournfully to the door again, indicating that the dead girl had been her friend, Stacy. The only friend she'd made since they had moved here. Why hadn't Max recognized her? It was probably the hair.
"You told me that I was going to die if I went there, so I took another shift at the bakery instead. Problem solved, right? Only, Stacy would still be there. So I called her house and left a message telling her not to go to the park. I told her she needed to make other plans and to stay out of the park today."
Max nodded, processing the info. "So...what's the problem?"
"She didn't go to the park, but she's still dead. Someone shot her, just like before - but it was in a different location. And I wasn't there."
Max rolled her shoulders. "Great."
"I'm a suspect because of the message I left her earlier."
"Double great." Max exhaled, processing it all. "Okay, but that's enough to get you in handcuffs? A phone message?"
"I...uh...had a gun with me too." Chloe gave her a sheepish look.
"Dammit Chloe."
"What? You said I was going to die today! I was scared, okay?" she defended. Max sighed and thought for a minute. "So, why the picture?" she asked.
"So you can hop back here when we find out who did it," Chloe grinned wickedly. "After we escape of course."
Max could have smacked her. "You want us to...what? Escape a building full of cops? What the fuck Chloe!"
"This place isn't full. They only have a few cops inside, and it's dark out by now. Sneaking out would be easy with your power."
Max thumbed her temples. "Chloe, did you learn anything two years ago?"
Harsh.
Anger crept into Chloe's eyes. Max almost flinched. "I did, Max. But you have already photo-hopped; you already changed this town's future. So we need to take action. We need to find out who did this, and then evacuate the town as soon as possible."
She was right, of course.
Max nodded. "I'm sorry, you're right." she looked at the door. Any minute now...
"How long do we have?"
"Four days." Chloe leaned back in the chair and put her feet up. "So Max, what are we going to do? Do you want to try to talk our way out of here, or just make a break for it?" Chloe eyed her mischievously. "You decide."