A/N: As a recent member of the Life is Strange fandom, I wanted to try my hand at a fan-fiction. The following fan-fiction takes place after the events of episode 5, after Max decides to go into the butterfly picture and start over in attempt to cheat fate once again. Also, this is the first fan-fiction/story my 18 year old male self has EVER written ( just wanted to give you an idea of who I am), so it's probably flawed in some way or another. Criticisms are welcomed, no matter how harsh. Copyright infringement unintended. I do not own any of the following content. This fan-fiction alternates between Chloe and Max's points of view. This was largely an experiment on my part, to see if I could even write a fan-fiction. To be honest, I'm not too confident in it, but I'll let you be the judge.

Chapter 1: Alive

CHLOE:

Never would I have thought in a million years, that my life would've gone in the direction it was headed. I had lost everything near and dear to me, William...Max...Rachel...

...My innocence...slowly torn from me like a band-aid, leaving fresh wounds exposed to the pathogenic environment I now lived in.

To top it all off, I was now a victim of a likely sexual assault. I say likely because I'm not entirely sure what he did to me.

Nathan Prescott, that name lit a seething bonfire of hatred within me. I clenched my teeth as I thought of him.

I was going to make him pay for what he did.

Literally...I was demanding 'financial compensation' for the damages, at the very least $5,000.

I could use that money to finally get my ass out of Arcadia Bay, even if it were just me alone.

The end my cigarette glowed cherry red as I finished it, seated low in the truck seat.

My legs fell asleep, since the seat was so damn hard.

I flicked the cigarette out of the window, and it landed on the hood of another car. I sighed and pulled off my dark blue beanie, leaving it on top of the dashboard.

Slouching against the seat, I pinched the bridge of my nose with my eyes shut, readying myself as best as I could.

My hand grasped the handle and pushed the truck door open. It made an ugly squeaking noise as I stepped out onto the pavement. My foot brushed a crushed beer can that was near the clutch pedal, and it tumbled out.

I ignored it and pulled up my distressed jeans, while I surveyed my surroundings and stretched out my legs. I made my way over to one of the many doors that dotted Blackwell's exterior.

I stopped in front of it for a second and examined it; a roll of newspaper was tucked in between it and the door frame.

'Good, he left it open."

Invigorating cool air hit me as I stepped out of the warm weather.

But I got distracted by the bright fluorescent lighting, which never failed to give me an instant headache.

The main hall was hella crowded. I had to push my way past a few people, who probably caught a big whiff of cigarettes and beer as I did.

I received many stares as I walked, from boys and girls alike. From the girls, they were looks of disgust and disapproval. The opposite for the opposite sex, they went all googly-eyed over me.

I didn't know whether to feel flattered or disgusted.

Rounding one of many corners, the target bathroom came into view. 'Fucker better be in there,' I thought to myself. I reached for the handle, fingertips millimeters from touching, when a small hand grasped my shoulder from behind.

I jumped out of my skin; my shoulders recoiled, throwing the small hand off.

I spun around so fast that I wobbled, nearly losing my balance. It didn't help that I'd had a few beers.

She was just standing there— a few inches shorter than me, and it took me a second to recognize her.

Freckles dotted her face, and she was still rocking those bangs. I absolutely towered over her, she probably hadn't grown anymore than three inches since the last time I'd seen her.

I sobered up quick as I felt a knot form in my throat, "Holy shit, Max?"

She rubbed the back of her neck and spoke with a hushed voice. "Chloe, please don't go in there." I just stared at her, she appeared so sudden; my heart was still pounding.

I almost said, 'Where the hell did you come from?'

But Instead I uttered, "Huh? Why- why not?"

Max continued with the hushed voice, and now she had tensed up her body, "Look, I can't tell you here, not right now. You need to trust me."

My voice sounded pinched, probably a few notes higher than usual, "Max, I need to go in. Lady trouble," I put my hand over my uterus.

"You and I both know that's not what you're here for."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I reached for the handle again.

Max threw herself in between the door and me, "No!"

"W-why the fuck not?"

"You'll get hurt in there!" She wrapped her hands around my bare forearms; they felt frigid.

I ground my teeth, "What the hell is your problem?"

"Please, just come with me, Chloe. I'll explain everything," her eyes took on an almost puppy-like quality.

"Moooooove," I groaned, drawing the word out.

"Chloe, just listen to me, please."

Through clenched teeth I growled, "Get the fuck out of my way, Max." My eyes shot daggers.

Those blue eyes darted away from mine. Her voice was quieter as she began to beg, "Chloe, please don't do this."

I let out an impatient snort, "Let. Me. In."

Her eyes were beginning to well up; it kinda made me feel like an asshole, but I had won our argument...or whatever the hell this was.

My face was hot with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. I pried my forearms from her cold grip and grabbed her by the shoulders, making sure not to hurt her and pulled her out of the way.

Quite the crowd had gathered at this point, several spectators recorded the event on their cell phones. I saw a few camera flashes from some of those idiots out of the corners of my eyes. I flipped the bird at all of them and mouthed, 'Fuck you.'

I reached for the handle one last time. Before I could even touch it, the door flew open and Nathan darted out from the restroom, spooked. He ran into me on his way out, and I fell on my ass, letting out a humiliating whimper.

Max tried to extend a hand to me, but I stood back up again on my own. I heard a few snickers and gasps from our crowd of spectators, 'There goes $5,000.'

My mind raced and I began to hyperventilate, 'I have to get the fuck out of here.' I stormed off, leaving Max in the dust.

The hallway was dead silent, except for my footsteps and a pair of footsteps behind me.

My head throbbed with every pulse of my heart.

"Chloe!"

I shoved the heavy doors open with a grunt, receiving a blast of warmth as I stepped out into the sun, she still followed closely behind.

"Chloe, wait- I'm sorry!" her voice shook.

She followed me for a dozen-or-so more steps, and gave up, letting me go.

I yanked at the truck door, failing to grip it. I tried again, it slammed open this time; I threw myself into the truck. After a few moments of fiddling with the keys, the truck rumbled to life. As soon as it did, I was out of there.

I didn't look back, hopping a curb or two on my way out of the parking lot and driving much faster than what was probably legal or safe.

My face prickled with heat, eyes feeling like dams getting ready to burst, but I choked back the tears. I wasn't about to fucking cry.

I was distracted. Every other gear change was sloppy, grinding as I forced them in.

Then I ran a stop sign, nearly crashing into another car; I chilled out my driving after that.

I got to the junkyard not even ten minutes later, and parked the truck. I turned it off, but stayed inside of it. That hard seat wasn't doing my bruised ass any favors.

I pulled out my phone and called Nathan.

No answer.

I tried again, no answer.

I badly needed another smoke; I reached into my rear pocket and pulled out the crumpled box, I guess I'd landed right on it.

The cigarettes didn't fare very well, they were crumpled and smashed. I pulled out the least fucked up one, which was still bent to shit.

I fell asleep with a lit cigarette for the second time in my life now.

MAX:

They say that that fate doesn't care about your plans.

To that I say: fuck fate, no longer will I fall a prisoner to it.

As William Ernest Henley once wrote: I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul.

I plopped myself down onto a rickety wooden bench, the ocean breeze blew the slightest aroma of sea salt into my nostrils. It had worked, Chloe was alive and I needed to keep her that way.

This was my second chance to make everything right again. Being up at the lighthouse with Chloe being pelted by stinging rain, still stood fresh in my mind.

'I'm going to make everything right, Chloe…for you...'

I needed to keep as many people alive as possible, so many lives were in my hands. I cringed at the thought of this.

But it was peaceful for once, the faint calls of distant birds filled the air, with the rumble of the ocean at the forefront of it all. Light winds caressed me, like gentle affectionate touches from an unseen entity.

I kicked my shoes off and placed them to my side, peeling off my socks; Then I buried my feet into the cool, damp sand. It reminded me that even though I had an extraordinary power, I was still just an 18 year old girl, as human as anybody else. After so much time spent...well, bending time, I'd neglected my own need to just relax every once in a while.

I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees and studied the vast Pacific Ocean ahead of me. Its immense power terrified me, even more so now that I had seen what it did/probably would do to Arcadia Bay. Maybe I had made a selfish choice, choosing to keep Chloe alive above anything else, but it wasn't about me.

It was about her.

I reasoned that my powers were to be used for one thing and one thing only: to keep as many people as I could alive and safe. But honestly, I didn't know and still don't. I vowed to never use them again, at least not to make massive changes. I was going to wing it, honestly. The less I used my powers, the less broken the timeline.

I must have been there for at least an hour, taking probably a dozen pictures with my Polaroid, I wasn't really counting. Many of these pictures consisted of shot of the sea, with the yellow sun hanging over the horizon. The time on my phone read:

4:03 P.M.

After that little episode today, I had decided to ditch school. If I stayed there, I probably would've been knee deep in shit the rest of the school day. Talk was probably spreading like wildfire; I could already imagine the likes of Victoria, spreading false rumors. I guess in her defense though, that display was pretty bizarro.

I decided to go find Chloe, "Man, she probably wants to rip my head off,' I frowned at this. My hands brushed away the majority of the sand from my feet, which had pruned slightly from the moisture. I pulled my socks back on, and the Chuck Taylor's followed.

I knew exactly where Chloe would be, the junkyard of course. I had quite the walk ahead of me, a few miles at best.

My tongue tried to wet my mouth but couldn't; I didn't even notice I was thirsty. There was a convenience store nearby...conveniently. I went in, grabbed a bottle of water, and bought it.

I took a final swig of the water; I'd been walking for a while, and my calves ached. So I sat down beside the tired old railroad and massaged them. There wasn't even the slightest amount of a breeze as I panted, wiping sweat off my brow. It was getting darker, and the sun stopped beating down on me. It was too late, though. The stinging hands of a sunburn slapped my neck.

I got back up again, mopping the sweat off of my forehead and continuing to walk along the rails. I checked the time again as I walked:

5:47 P.M.

I decided to pick up the pace a bit. I didn't want to get caught out there in the dark and become a nocturnal predator's lunch. I marched on, despite my still aching calves and got to the junkyard probably 25 minutes later.

To my relief, I saw Chloe's truck parked there by a dilapidated school bus. It was bathed in orange light from the sunset as it casted a long shadow in my direction. I waded through overgrown grass as I approached it, and she was fast asleep, sitting there.

As gently and quietly as possible, I opened the passenger side door and sat beside her, in her hand was a burnt out cigarette. I must've not been quiet enough, because she woke up.

"Hey," I uttered.

"Hey," she wiped the sleep away from her eyes.

"You know, it's not the best idea to fall asleep with a lit cigarette."

She looked down at her hand, which gripped a cigarette butt. She flicked it out the window behind her.

"How did you find me?"

"I just knew you'd be here."

"Hmm," we both avoided each other's gaze for a moment, she stared down at her legs.

"I'm sorry about earlier, it wasn't exactly the best way to get acquainted again," I muttered.

"No, it wasn't."

There was a slight pause, and she looked up at me with parted lips and apologetic brows.

"And...I'm sorry too, Max. I shouldn't have flipped out at you like that, I feel like a complete bitch."

"We were both bitches, no need to apologize."

She tilted her head, "I'll always be a bigger bitch than you."

"Is that a challenge?" I teased.

Chloe threw her head back in laughter, "You bet it is, Mad Max."

I guess she'd already forgiven me. She was just glad to see me, even if I got in the way of her money. I was fully expecting to have a full blown fight with her, but it didn't happen.

We sat in silence for a moment until she threw her arms around me, catching me by surprise.

"Max fucking Caulfield, I am so glad to see you," her voice rose with contentment.

I wrapped my arms around her now, squeezing her tight. I was smiling like a maniac, and you could hear it in my voice, "Chloe fucking Price, likewise."

I could feel the pulse in her neck thumping against the pulse in mine; I smelled a subtle hint of cheap men's cologne and a not-so-subtle hint of cigarette smoke.

Her heartbeat reminded me once again, 'She's alive.'

We held each other for a long time. I didn't want it to end, but all good things must.

So we eventually released each other.

"God, I can't believe that fucking prick knocked me over, my ass hurts." She shifted around on the seat to emphasize that.

And then she sprung a question on me, one I wasn't hoping to hear.

"What was that about, Max?"

I bit my inner cheek so hard that the metallic taste of blood burst in my mouth. I had to swallow it down.

An image of a bright blue butterfly flashed through my head, I blinked it away, "Ever heard of Chaos Theory?"

"Chaos what?"

I quoted a webpage I'd read, "Very small changes in the starting position of a chaotic system make a big difference after a while."

She blinked, "Sounds like some Stephen Hawking shit."

I shifted lower down in the seat and probably made myself look smaller, gulping, "Uh, Nathan had a gun on him, and he wasn't afraid to use it."

The corners of her mouth turned down slightly, "Really? 'Cause...so do I, and I'm not afraid to use it."

"You do?" Then I remembered she probably 'borrowed it' from David.

She leaned over and opened the glove-box, out came a massive black revolver.

She inspected it,"Yep, Smith & Wesson Model 29 in .44 Magnum. Feelin' lucky, punk?" She opened the cylinder and eyed the six rounds in it.

"Pretty sure it'd fly out of my hands and-or break my wrists if I ever fired it," she placed it in my hands.

I frowned at the heavy hunk of deadly metal, "Chloe, you were supposed to die in that bathroom."

Her gaze clouded, going distant, "What do you mean I was supposed to?"

My hands clammed up, "I saw it happen, kinda."

She chuckled, "Duuude, you musta smoked some hella strong shit. Where can I get some?"

I didn't laugh, she noticed this, and we just stared at each other.

"Woah, you were being serious," a look of grave concern came over her face.

"As serious as a heart attack," coincidentally, I felt like I was having one.

Her eyes continued to glaze over.

I gave the hand-cannon back to her.

"Fuck it. I'm going to tell you as straightforward as possible," I figured I'd use her confusion to my advantage.

"Uh, O-Okay."

"Firstly, you set up a little 'exchange' with Nathan. Just putting that out there."

Chloe sat up as straight as a board, "How the fuck do you know that?"

"I know a lot of things about a lot of people, you especially."

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, "Me especially?"

"Look, if you were to go into that bathroom, you would've had an argument with Nathan about the money. He would've snapped, you would've begged for your life, and he would've shot you."

"The fuck? Why are you saying, 'would've' so much?" She crossed her arms.

I could already tell this wasn't going to work, so I changed course.

"Empty your pockets really quick for me," I commanded.

"What? You're being hella weird."

"Just do it."

"Okay?" she did as I said and emptied her pockets. I studied the contents carefully, there was: a panda keychain, a really crumpled box of cigarettes, two nickels and six pennies. Deja vu hit me, 'Shit, I really am doing everything over. I've already done this in another timeline.'

"I don't see what the point of-" I cut her off mid-sentence when I raised up my right hand, the world moved in reverse. I watched her stuff the contents back into her pocket, going back to where she crossed her arms.

My head throbbed, 'This can't be healthy,' My blood pressure lowered again.

I dropped my right hand and without hesitation I declared, "You have: a panda keychain, a crushed box of cigarettes, and sixteen cents in your pocket."

Chloe looked at me like I had grown another head, "Huh?"

"Empty your pockets," she obliged, putting the same keychain, coins, and cigarettes back onto the seat.

She stared at them for a moment, probably counting the change, and she looked up at me in complete astonishment.

I smiled, I loved her reactions to these things.

"Holy fuck!" She had the biggest grin on her face, "That was so fucking cool!"

I shrugged, and she inquired, "Dude, are you a psychic or something?"

I decided to go along with it, figuring I'd tell her it was actually time travel later.

"I don't know if I'd call it that, maybe?"

"Can you tell me my fortune?" She asked, the words going a million miles per hour.

"Nope," I shook my head, even though I probably could've told her some sort of fortune.

She seemed slightly disappointed, resting her chin on her hand, "How did you do that?"

"Like I said, I know a lot of things about a lot of people, you especially."

She frowned, "Vague much?"

"It'll make more sense as the week goes on. I kinda want to talk about something else."

She stuffed her things back into her pocket.

"Alright, Super Max," she leaned back, kicking her legs up onto the dashboard.

Our conversation moved on to other topics as we watched the sunset together.