A/N: Since music is important to Life is Strange, I decided to base each chapter off of a different song I feel fits the chapter's material. The song lyrics have been removed from each chapter because I don't want to risk having the story taken down (2/11/18). This isn't my first fanfiction, but it is my first contribution to the Life is Strange archive. I hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Life is Strange or the song Retrograde by James Blake.
"Max Caulfield."
Pause.
"Age eighteen."
Sounds of objects shifting.
"And a little too nosy for her own good."
These words and sounds are muffled when they reach her ears, like they traveled through water to get there, but the voice is unmistakable.
Almost every day for over a month, she heard that voice. Almost every day for a month, she found herself mesmerized by his words. Mr. Jefferson rattled off his profile of her in the same voice he used to lecture his class about chiaroscuro or the importance of timing.
"The perfect opportunity could be moments away, or moments past. You see, timing is what separates good photographers from great photographers. A good photographer sees their perfect opportunity and captures it, but a great photographer finds and captures that perfect opportunity at its peak. Any questions?" he said, so long ago.
And she drank his words in hopes of understanding and utilizing his insight.
God, how naive she's been.
He's preparing a syringe for her.
"Please, don't do this," she begs. "You don't have to do this."
He doesn't like his victims being too conscious. Not out of concern for sparing them some of the trauma, but because it takes away their look of helplessness—the very thing he considers the pinnacle of beauty and innocence. It instills a glassy confusion in their eyes that captures his eye.
She knows this because it's her third time in The Dark Room. No matter how many times she rewound, she came back to the present in the same place, in front of Mr. Jefferson's pure white backdrop with her hands and ankles bound by duct tape. Her body and mind sluggish from his drugs, the ones that make her nauseous and dizzy when she begins to sober.
The only solace Mr. Jefferson gives her is when he injects her again to render her unconscious. But not knowing what happens when she's so unaware becomes terrifying when she's awake enough to think clearly—or clearer, at least. She knows he takes pictures of her body in its almost lifeless state, but she doesn't know what else he might do. If he drugs and takes pictures of young women in a storm bunker, what else is he capable of with his fucked up mind?
Max's phone vibrates against the coffee table Jefferson set it on as its text tone calls out to her. Jefferson glances back at her and smirks, like her pathetic attempts to reach her phone with her numb, unresponsive body are visible or he can read her mind. But she's not sure who she's trying to fool. He doesn't need to read her mind when her thoughts are illuminated on her face.
He places his syringe—filled to the point she worries it's too much—next to her phone. He removes one of his thin latex gloves, picks up her phone, and taps the screen. She can't see from her angle, and everything's so damn blurred it doesn't matter regardless, but she knows he's pulling up her texts. He's snooping through one of her most personal belongings and she regrets not locking it with a password. She wishes she could yell at her past self for laughing about securing her phone with a password, believing that it'd be unnecessary if she always has her phone tucked snug in her pocket. She tries to crawl toward him, or even yell and scream until he puts it down, but her body still won't obey her. She's been reduced to a rag doll. His unwilling model. His plaything. His toy. His possession.
Does he even see me as a person anymore? she wonders.
"I know how much you must miss your friends," he says, "so I'll let you know what they're up to. Consider it me granting a final request for you, even if you couldn't request it."
"My," he says, "you have an awful lot of texts from Chloe."
She's alive this time. Max sighs in relief. I finally got to save her.
In the first timeline, Jefferson shot Chloe after Max called out to her. She held out her hand and tried to rewind, but Chloe kept falling until she laid next to Rachel in death.
So Max rewound after she escaped The Dark Room to the photo Warren took of them and warned Chloe, but Jefferson still managed to drug her that night. Chloe remained angry about Rachel's death and Max's abduction only fueled that. From what she could learn, she stayed at the Vortex Club with Chloe to keep an eye on anyone who seemed a little too wasted, but Jefferson managed to separate them and drug Max anyway. With Chloe's judgment clouded, she didn't think twice about charging into The Dark Room. But Chloe was too loud. She was always too loud, despite Max's insistence throughout their investigation to be stealthy around The Dark Room and the barn above it.
Chloe didn't listen. She entered The Dark Room after being far too loud and Jefferson heard her. He was ready when she entered and he shot quicker. Max watched her fall again. The bullet hole in Chloe's head glared back at Max like a third eye.
David noticed. He may not have been able to show it properly, but he cared about Chloe like she was his own daughter. He put together their clues a second time, just like in the first timeline, and rescued her from The Dark Room again.
Now she's stuck with Jefferson in The Dark Room for a third time. Maybe it was the fourth or even the fifth time. She vaguely remembered Chloe accepting that Max might have to sacrifice her to save Arcadia Bay, but Max couldn't bring herself to make that choice. She rewound, but vowed she would save Arcadia and Chloe.
Her head hurts thinking about it and she waits to feel an inevitable warm stream of blood trailing down from her nose. What has she changed through all of this? Which choices is the storm connected to, if any? Where the hell did her powers come from in the first place and why her?
Jefferson sits on the plastic wrapped couch, reading out texts to which she half-heartedly listens.
"Chloe asks if she should 'send in the cavalry' because you haven't responded to her in so long," Jefferson says. "Among a slew of other texts about CSI Arcadia Bay."
He types out a response. "I'll let her know that you're fine, just a bit preoccupied."
"Warren wants to know if you're still up for 'going ape' tomorrow."
He continues to read texts at random, but Max only pays attention to a few of them. Brooke and Kate reminded her about their drone and tea dates, respectively. Even Victoria sent a message, if only to give Max a simple 'thanks'.
Finally, he sets her phone back down after removing its battery. This timeline is different already. He's never checked her phone before, but it makes her stomach tighten and breath quicken. He just told everyone that she's fine, simply preoccupied.
Who will come rescue me? When will they notice my absence if I seem to be fine? She wonders as Jefferson checks his filled syringe again.
He steps closer, but she can't back away. Not while her body is so heavy. Not while her thoughts of being denied rescue paralyze her with fear. It takes less than a minute for him to close the distance between them, prick the needle into her neck, and push down the plunger until nothing is left in the syringe.
Her world is fading to black again, but she hears Jefferson's distant words. Words that she fears might be the last to reach her ears.
"Sorry, Max. I do wish the circumstances could have been different. It truly hurts me to deprive the world of a talent like yours."
Chloe rereads her most recent text from Max. She just wanted to know if Max was okay and she replied with a curt message.
Max: Fine, just busy.
Chloe reads it again after flipping her phone upside down, trying to find some hidden meaning. Some reason for this un-Max behavior. Max never blows her off like this without even explaining what she's doing. Never.
She lets her arms fall back onto her mattress and stares at the ceiling. Beside her, rain pounds against the window covered by her American Flag. It's been raining for a long time now and harsh winds rattle the nearby tree branches.
October 11 is a Friday this year and Max told Chloe about her repeating visions of a tornado destroying all of Arcadia Bay on this day. She picks her phone back up.
Chloe: It's a little windy, but I wouldn't call this a tornado, Max
She sets her phone down again and closes her eyes. The rain is soothing and steady. Soothing enough to quell the storm raging in her stomach—the twists and turns telling her something's wrong, but she doesn't know what. She knows it has to do with Max, something in the deepest knots of her gut tells her this. But her mind refuses to comply. Nothing can be wrong with Max. The universe can't do something like this to her again. Wasn't Rachel enough? Despite her internal war, within the minute she falls asleep.
When she wakes up again, she still hears the rain and wind outside accompanied by the occasional boom of thunder rolling by. She checks her phone for the time and any new messages. October 12. 3AM.
And still no new messages from Max. So, Chloe types in a new message of her own.
Chloe: You've said one thing to me all day. The Vortex Club tire you out that much?'
The message comes out a little harsher than she intended and the unease in her stomach returns. She tries to reason with it, but every thought makes it stronger.
I dropped Max off at the dorms. She has to be okay, she thinks. As much as I wanted to shoot that smug asshole, Nathan, she insisted it wasn't him who's fully at fault for Rachel's death. She pleaded, actually pleaded, me to ignore any texts from him and said it'd be best for us to stay apart for the rest of the night. Super-Max has to know what she's doing.
The screen of her phone lights up and comes to life with her text tone. Chloe sits up in her bed and fumbles in tense anticipation to check her message. She feels her body deflate like a balloon poked with a needle when the name of the messenger reads 'Warren' and she flops back onto her mattress.
Warren: Hey, Max has been kinda unresponsive to my texts. Did I make a fool of myself at the End of the World party or something?
When she thought the sick feeling in her stomach couldn't get worse, Warren's text pushes it over the edge.
Chloe: No, she brushed me off too
He responds quick enough to let Chloe know he probably kept his phone in his hand while waiting for her reply.
Warren: I'll go over in the morning and check on her
Warren: Maybe she's not feeling well. Or just partied too hard
Warren: No one saw her yesterday. She missed all her classes
Chloe: Go the second you can and let me know what's up.
Chloe: I have a bad feeling
Warren: KK
Warren: Would go now if the storm let up
Chloe sits up, resigning to the fact that she won't be getting anymore sleep. At least not tonight.
Not with thoughts of Rachel in the Dark Room raging through her head. Or the possibility of something being wrong with Max. Her brain whispers 'Max in the Dark Room' to her, but she does all she can to ignore it.
"No matter what happens," Max says, "never go to the Dark Room alone, okay? Promise me."
She pleaded with Chloe like she knew more than she let on. Of course she knew more, she rewound. She told Chloe she rewound more than once because it never turned out right.
It kills her on the inside, knowing Rachel's fate and guessing at Max's. It'll kill her until morning, until Warren texts her again about how Max is.
Blackwell Dormitories tries to enforce a lock-in from 10PM to 6AM. Chloe would have driven there at 3AM to check up on Max, but the storm still raged on outside and she doesn't want her life to end with a car accident like her father's. So at 6AM, Chloe cradles her phone, waiting for Warren's report on Max.
Around 6:30AM, her phone lights up and she opens the message.
Warren: No one in her dorm has seen her
"Absolutely do not go to The Dark Room, Chloe," Max insists. "Promise me that you will only go if you take David with you."
Chloe rolls her eyes. "Fine, I promise. But you have to promise too. Promise me that you won't go there without me."
Chloe didn't like the look on Max's face when she promised, but she believed Max regardless. She wouldn't go into a place like that of her own will. Especially not alone. "Where'd you run off to, Max?" Chloe wonders out loud.
Chloe: What about Nathan? Have you seen him?
Warren: In class yesterday, but he's not exactly someone I try to be in contact with. I didn't beat him up for fun, you know
Chloe: I'm just worried about Max
Warren: Same here
Chloe sets her phone to the side. Her mom worked a late shift at the Two Whales yesterday, almost stranded by the heavy rain. David, well, Chloe didn't know what he spent last night doing, but it wasn't something at home. They both still slept.
She grabs her car keys, gets dressed, and begins the drive to Blackwell. Her last bit of hope goes to the thought that Max simply didn't want to see Warren and didn't answer his inquiries at the dorms, but she knows better. She knows something isn't right.
C'mon, Max. Don't go like Rachel did.
She hears Jefferson's voice again, cutting through the thick darkness of her mind. Consciousness feels so close, but still so far away and she drifts between the two states like a lone raft amidst the ocean's vast waters.
"I can keep her here as long as I need to, but some of her classmates are beginning to wonder where she went," he says. "No, I don't think anyone suspects me. But when she broke in here, she wasn't alone. I feel her friend might figure it out and come get her."
She hears his footsteps pacing and she's trying to open her eyes, but they're so heavy. Everything feels so heavy.
"Chloe Price. She went to Blackwell. I looked up her file after she mentioned it. She's just another drop out."
Chloe, she tries to say, but her mouth can't form the name. She feels like a prisoner shackled in her own body.
Is this the cost of saving Chloe, Nathan, and Victoria? Do I have to die in their places?
After being in The Dark Room for so long, and so many times, death almost seems welcoming to Max. She understands Kate now, better than when she stood atop the roof and held out her hand. She's living the nightmare Kate couldn't quite remember, but knows was real.
"I don't think that would be the best course of action," Jefferson says. "I agree that it would be a good opportunity for Nathan's practice. But the longer we keep her alive, the more dangerous it becomes."
Pause.
"Okay, I'll get her there within the hour and bring her back later. Chloe can come see that Max isn't here. After she does, we'll change the code to the door. Then Nathan has all the time in the world to practice his photography. He'll get it right one day."
She's moving in her fear, writhing. But it doesn't last long. She feels the now-familiar prick in her neck, then nothing.
Chloe picks the lock to Max's dorm room. Unlike on Principle Wells' office door, the skills she learned from Frank work and the door clicks open. She steps inside and Warren hovering over her shoulder. She's not sure what she really expected, but seeing the emptiness of Max's room solidifies that she's missing.
"Max?" Chloe calls. "Max, if this is a game or a joke, it's not funny."
"There's no place to hide in dorms like these," Warren said.
"I know. I was just… hoping."
Chloe sits in the chair at Max's desk and fires up her laptop. "Maybe she left something up on her laptop?"
Warren stands next to the chair and shrugs. "I don't know. It's possible."
Chloe goes through the open tabs of the browser, but only finds camera websites and Max's email. She shuts the laptop and leans back in her chair. "Nothing useful," she says.
She stands and grabs Warren by his elbow, dragging him with her. She knows that if her hunch is right, then time is a luxury they don't have right now. Or, more precisely, a luxury that Max doesn't have right now. "C'mon. We might not be best friends, but we're Max's best friends," she says. "I think I know where she is, but it's not somewhere we should go alone."
By the time Chloe drives them to her house, David is awake. He's eating his breakfast at the table and Joyce left for her shift at the Two Whales already. Chloe sits across from him. She wants to yell at him, call him names and go slam her door, but Max told her David saved her in past timelines. She trusts Max more than she dislikes David.
"Uh, can I ask you something," Chloe says, "David?"
She has his attention. He puts his fork down and nods, watching her with wide eyes. But she can't blame him for being surprised. She's never called him by a proper name before. She sees Warren in the corner of her peripheral vision, shifting uncomfortably and trying to look like his isn't eavesdropping.
"Max is missing and I think I know where she might be," she says.
David nods again, slower this time. "Alright, but that's not exactly a question, Chloe."
"Will you go with us to check it out? It's a dangerous place. We found it while looking for Rachel," Chloe says. "I… think you'll find some information you've been looking for about Blackwell."
"Well, let's head on out," he says. "You can explain more on the way."
They squeeze into the front of her truck and it rattles the entire journey, up to when she turns it off outside the barn. The sun illuminates the would-be peaceful landscape, but a storms still rages in Chloe's gut and she's nauseous. Her hands shake as she pockets her car keys. She's always heard of the phrase 'ignorance is bliss', but now she understands it. There's no way of unknowing or unseeing what they'll find in The Dark Room.
David gives her shoulder a quick pat. "Max won't be dying anytime soon. Not on my watch," he says.
Chloe leads them into The Dark Room, hidden under hay and behind a vault-like door. She holds her breath when she opens the door and squeezes her eyes closed. Simultaneously, she wishes that they don't find Max beyond the door and that they do find her beyond the door.
If they find her, they know. They have answers, closure, and maybe she's alive.
If they don't find her, nothing is guaranteed. Not that Max was ever there or that she's buried with Rachel by now.
She braces herself, preparing mentally for something she will never adequately be prepared for, and nods at David. He enters with his guard up and gun raised, footsteps making barely any noise. Chloe trails behind him with an almost reluctant Warren trailing her.
Is this the end or the beginning of a journey?