It was cold.
The wind pummeled away at the cliff and it was cold. The downpour struck her skin and intermingled with tears and it was cold. The roar of the storm shuddered in her core and it was cold. An arm stood wrapped around her for the whole of it, her arm, and even that was ice cold.
Her tears were warm, though. Only they were.
The storm scarcely lasted beyond a handful of minutes, yet to Max Caulfield atop that cliff, it felt like long, stretched out hours of suffering. Hours of that tornado hammering away at the town.
At Arcadia Bay.
Hours of flinging people and building aside. People she knew. Buildings she had been in.
The rain fell on her hands, and from them fell in scarlet drops, scarlet in the way only water mixed with blood could be. Blood that covered her hands, from wrist to fingertips. Blood no amount of water could wash away. Blood of an entire town, of nearly two thousand souls.
A single tear, and with that consigned to oblivion for a single, blue-haired girl.
The same girl stood next to her, an arm wrapped around Max's shoulders, shivering, quivering, tears welled up in her eyes yet held back from dropping by a titanic will. Chloe. Her Chloe.
The person she had killed two thousand people for. Including her parents.
But even the most torturous minutes could only be extended so far, and eventually the storm vanished, disappearing as swiftly as it had arrived and taking the Arcadia Bay with it. In every sense of the word, the town was gone: merely a sea of rubble where it once stood.
To condemn two thousand to save one.
To be forced to make that choice. It was cruel, crueler than anyone should have been forced to do.
"Max." Max looked up into those cerulean eyes, eyes still full of unshed tears. "Are you-"
"Let's just... go." She didn't trust herself to say more. "Just-just leave this place." Before I collapse in tears, were the unspoken words.
She understood. Her dear Chloe, she always did. Always.
The cloud cover broke as they left, and it rapidly dissipated, again sending the rays of the sun down on this forsaken corner of Oregon. It seemed peaceful. Calm. If not for the ruins of the Bay, Max could have even believed that this all was a dream. Yet it stood there, like a sore on the land, an image burned into her memory that she would forever carry.
One of the rays even shone on them, their clothes soaked wet, as if nothing had happened. The thought made her legs weak, barely able to support her weight. She was so tempted to let go, to slump and fall, to have someone else bear the weight... but it was not someone else. It was Chloe Elizabeth Price Max was leaning against, and the mere thought of doing that made her feel even worse than she did.
"Max." A hushed whisper. "Do you see that?"
Max Caulfield raised her head to look, and came face to face with two black, beady eyes looking at her from the roof of Chloe's truck.
As if oblivious to the disaster just minutes ago, the meadowlark inclined its head, somehow managing to appear utterly mischievous despite its yellow chest and streaked flanks glistening under the sunlight. Its gaze shifted from Max to Chloe back to Max to Chloe again.
"I have to take a picture of that." She spoke in hushed tones. It presented a perfectly... adorable picture! The bird seemingly noticed the appraisal it was held in, and turned its head sideways and up, in that sort of striking pose that looked off into a better future, the pose that would look fiercely inspiring on a determined face. It didn't manage to do anything but look even more adorable.
Max dug through her bag for the camera, soaking wet. "Damn. It's soaking. Hope it still works..." She brought it up to her eye, centered on the meadowlark, and pressed the button.
"You always take the shot, don't you?" Chloe chuckled.
Always take the shot. A terrific chill ran through Max, and strength left her arms. The ground came closer, and then stopped as an arm wrapped itself around her. "Whoa. You okay, SuperMax?"
"Jefferson." Max breathed out. "He'd keep saying that. Always take the shot."
"Shit. Sorry." She helped her back to her feet. "Max, look at me. Jefferson is gone. They threw him in. He cannot hurt anyone again. Cannot hurt you again."
There was something calming in her gaze, that banished the dark memories for at least a moment. Then the meadowlark chirped, and even the memory of Jefferson couldn't prevent the shadow of a smile.
"Let's go, Bat-Max. Let's get you home."
Chloe practically dragged her to the truck, still shivering, and the meadowlark chirped at them the whole way from the roof of the truck. She smiled faintly at Max. "Now we sail onward."
"Right, Captain." Max couldn't help herself as Chloe gunned the engine, heading away from the storm and the bad memories.
Neither saw the meadowlark take off as the engine rumbled and fly westwards.
Neither saw it shudder mid-flight and fall, dead before it hit the ground.