Max doesn't move for a long time. She just sits, curled up on a dirty bathroom floor with silent tears streaming down her face, listening to Nathan Prescott as he tries to undo what can not be undone.
Someone must have heard the gunshot, because after what feels like an eternity, David storms into the bathroom, yelling for Nathan to get on the ground. He does of course, and he's begging for mercy like the coward he is. I didn't mean to! It was an accident! It was self-defense! Bullshit. She hears handcuffs, some rustling, and Nathan is led out of the bathroom, crying like a child.
Then it's just her, and Chloe, and the crushing self-hatred she'll have to live with forever.
The cops arrive to investigate the scene. They find Max, head in her arms and knees to her chest, in that damn corner next to the fire alarm she didn't pull. One of them reaches out to her, and she simply falls apart, arms limp and no motivation to move at all. They manage to stand her up and walk her out of the bathroom. She passes Chloe. Passes the body. Her legs give out. She's carried the rest of the way.
They bring her to an ambulance that's waiting outside, wrap a blanket around her, and tell her that she's in shock. They're not wrong.
After a brief check up at the hospital, she's driven to the police station. They ask her questions. What did you see? What did you hear? She manages a couple words, enough for them to jot down a brief statement. They ask her why she didn't leave the bathroom after Nathan was led away, she says it's because she was scared. She doesn't tell them the truth. She doesn't tell them that Chloe didn't deserve to be left alone again.
When they release her, Max makes her way to the lighthouse. You can't escape the lighthouse, here… It's a long walk, and her legs are burning, but she doesn't care. The sun is setting on Arcadia Bay, and the ocean twinkles in the orange light. It would be beautiful if the world wasn't so fucked up. Max sits on the bench, overlooking the town she saved. The town she sacrificed the best damn thing in her life for. You were there today, Max. You saved me! The dam breaks and heaving sobs wrack her chest. Yes, I was there…
The only time Max leaves her room for a week is to see Mark Jefferson led from Blackwell with a police escort. She stands next to Kate, arm wrapped around her shoulders protectively, glaring daggers at the man she once trusted. A sense of satisfaction settles in her chest when they lock eyes, and she knows that he knows. He knows that Maxine Caulfield was the one who ended his life. It's the best thing she's done in this reality.
She wants to spit at him, and she almost does, but Kate lets out a whimper, and Max focuses her attention back on the girl in her arms. Kate is more important than the waste of oxygen that is Jefferson, and she wants him to know that she will no longer give him the time of day.
No one will.
The days leading up to the funeral are a blur. Before she knows it, she's at the lighthouse again, gazing down at Arcadia Bay to remind herself that this is right. She made the right choice. The only thing that reminds her of that is Chloe. We have to. We have to save everybody, okay? Max turns and heads for the graveyard.
She's the last one there, and takes her place between Warren and Joyce. She want's so badly to comfort the woman who has become her second mother, but she has no right. She can't even look at her.
Max can't hear the priest. She can't hear anything but her heart pounding in her ears. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots it. A blue butterfly. It lands right on the coffin, right where Chloe's pale face is hidden under polished wood. And she feels something move in her soul. A calm that is so out of place in this strange and tragic week. A calm she only felt when she was holding her best friend. It's barely there, but a smile tugs at her lips. Chloe is here. Chloe understands. It's not much, but it's enough for now. And she whispers,
"I'll always love you, too."