The Storm was raging.
Lightning flared and thunder cracked. The pounding rain had long since soaked through everything stuck beneath it: the swaying trees; the uneven ground around the lighthouse; and the two rain-soaked girls, facing each other atop the cliff amongst it all. A monstrous and unnatural vortex framed them against the sky. In that moment, however, neither of them were paying attention to it.
The taller girl spoke.
"Max… It's time." She tried to say the words with finality, but uncertainty bled into her tone. She slowly dropped her hands, which had a gentle grip on the other girl's arms, and took a step back. The shorter girl forced her downcast eyes upwards and looked at the person backing away from her.
She looked at her friend.
Her best friend.
Max Caulfield choked on her words as they fought to make their way out of her chest. Tears welled in her eyes, desperately struggling to find release. In the pouring rain, they were indistinguishable from the thick droplets already streaming down her face. Max's words finally escaped her throat.
"Chloe… I'm so, so sorry." She took in a sharp breath. "I… I don't want to do this."
Chloe Price couldn't withstand the agony displayed on her friend's face and immediately moved back forward, eliminating the space between them by pulling Max tightly into her arms. She knew it would only make what still had to come next that much harder, but fuck it all: she couldn't stop herself from wanting to shield her friend - no - from wanting to shield Max from the pain. Tears of her own welled up as she struggled to find the right words. Again, Chloe tried to put some finality into her voice, taking comfort in Max's warmth between her arms against the icy, relentless rain.
She wasn't much more successful than the last time.
"I know, Max. But we have to." Chloe slowly pulled out of the embrace as she said the words. They were meant for herself as much as they were for Max, perhaps even more. "We have to save everybody, okay?" Sudden anger jabbed at Chloe, and she continued, "And you'll make those fuckers pay for what they did to Rachel." Chloe paused, and Max just held her gaze for a moment, unsure of how to respond to that. Hearing Chloe say Rachel's name like that pressed on a wellspring of conflicting emotions that Max couldn't even begin to unpack in that moment, overwhelmed as she already was.
The moment hung as Max felt stuck, and Chloe eventually went on. "Being together this week… It was the best farewell gift I could have hoped for."
The word struck Max with the full weight of what was about to happen. Farewell. She thought she had already felt the full impact of the situation, but that single word made the pit in her stomach swell and grow heavier still. Then, Chloe continued with her voice small and filled with raw emotion.
"You're my hero, Max."
And with those words, in that exact moment, something crystallized in Max. She shifted her gaze directly into Chloe's eyes, and something sparked. It ignited a fire, which had been smoldering underneath the surface for so long, and, for just that moment, everything dropped away. There was only the sense of something pulling her forward, slowly at first but with increasing intensity. As Chloe didn't back away, didn't flinch, Max's hands raised to the sides her face, finding wet skin and wet hair. Lightning flashed.
Their lips collided, and nothing had ever felt more natural. Chloe's hand resting on her lower back, the mixture of sweetness and bitterness on her breath, and a deep sense of comfort. Each of them tried to savor the moment, gathering emotional strength for what was to come.
It was Chloe who broke the kiss, taking a step back. She spoke all that she needed to, and nothing more. The previous moment had already said most of it.
"I'll always love you… Now, get out of here, please! Do it before I freak." Chloe kept moving back, resisting the temptation to draw things out more and risk either of them losing their nerve to do what needed to be done.
Chloe couldn't help but add, "And Max Caulfield? Don't you forget about me."
Max wanted to say so much. She wanted that moment to continue, to rewind and just stay there, no matter the consequences. She wanted Chloe to know how much she cared, how much she loved her too. The fire threatened to consume her thoughts, which were scattered in all directions. Amidst the chaos, Max knew that she had to act now, or the moment would pass and she would be weak.
So, Max said the only word she could muster: "Never."
With her body acting separately from her muddled mind, Max looked down at the rain-soaked image between her fingers and slowly turned around. She focused on the deep blue of the butterfly in the photo, and the image started to flicker wildly.
Max felt a familiar bleeding of her vision, and then nothing at all.
Click.
Whirr.
Max's arms were suddenly heavy with the familiar weight of her camera. The quiet noise of a spinning fan became audible as the mechanical noise of the camera printing faded.
Max's vision caught up to the rest of her senses just as the blue butterfly launched itself from the rim of the empty bucket in front of her. The sense of Deja Vu sparked by the image jerked Max into the present - or rather the past? - and a quiet panic rose in her chest. The freshly captured picture in her hand slipped through nervous fingers.
No, not yet. I'm not ready. I know this is what I - what we - have to do, but -
But Time would not wait for Max, not anymore.
The dim thud of the bathroom door being shoved against caused Max to unconsciously shuffle back behind the farthest stall. And then it started to happen again, just like the first time, but now for the last.
"It's cool, Nathan. Don't stress, you're okay, bro… just count to three." He took in a few sharp, shallow breaths. "Don't be scared. You own this school... If I wanted, I could blow it up." He let out a nervous, manic laugh. "You're the boss."
Nathan's rambling was interrupted by a louder thud than the last, and another voice cut through the air before the door was even shut behind it.
The voice felt like a cut to Max, at least.
"I hope you checked the perimeter, as my Step-ass would say?" Stall doors creaked open, one by one. Apparently satisfied, Chloe added, "Now, let's talk bidness."
The rest came, just as it had the first time. Just like it always would, without Max's intervention. But Max was just a passenger now, and had to wait it out.
This is what we decided. This is what she wanted. This is what's… right?
Fuck that, this is not right. It's just the least shitty outcome for the most people, but I don't know if I can -
Max was pulled out of her thoughts and into reality by the rapidly approaching ending.
Nathan raised his voice, threatening, "You don't know who the fuck I am, or who you're messing around with!"
Chloe's voice quivered. "Where'd you get that? What are you doing? Come on, put that thing down!"
No, not yet, not yet. I'm not ready for this!
Nathan was full-on screaming now. "Don't EVER tell me what to do. I'm so SICK of people trying to control me!" "
I don't know if I can go through with this, I just -
The panic was rising in Chloe's voice. "You're going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs."
"Nobody would ever even miss your punk ass, would they?"
I would! I love her!
The feeling crystallized just like before, and Max lost her resolve.
I can't do this, I love her.
"Get that gun away from me, psycho!"
Max was suddenly on her feet, driven by reaction and not by thought. She was around the corner -
But she was too late.
A deafening blast overpowered all her senses. Max extended her arm, but some small, resigned fragment of her kept the rest in check. She reached out, but she didn't pull on the temporal thread, supple between her fingers. Instead, she looked at the broken form curled up on the floor across the room, across the widest distance Max had ever felt.
She sunk back down to her knees, shattered by the image of Chloe like that. Chloe, all alone, bleeding out on a fucking bathroom floor, thinking nobody really cared about her.
Max was aware that she was sobbing, but she could hardly feel it. Some part of her thought that she should still be hidden out of sight, but Max couldn't care. Nathan was frantically pacing, too panicked to notice the sunken form in the back of the room.
A small voice told Max that it wasn't too late. All she had to do was tug at those familiar threads, and all of this could be averted again. Whether it was more due to the numbness from the shock or a stronger resolve than she thought she had, Max didn't pull on the strands of time.
Soon, the decision was out of her hands as Max's senses bled into red and faded.
Her fingers could no longer pull on the strands.
Her fingers no longer existed.
Chloe leaning against the bathroom door, Nathan curled up on the ground clutching at his chest.
The image burns away.
David low to the ground, knee digging fiercely into Nathan's back. A limp form and a pool of red obscured behind them.
Nathan headbutting Warren, blood already spurting from his bruised nose.
The image burns away.
Nathan sitting at a dimly lit interrogation table, arms chained together in front of him.
Max, awestruck, taking a photo of Chloe dancing on her bed. A light haze lingers in the sunlight filtering through the blinds.
The image burns away.
Jefferson surrounded by uniformed men, being roughly guided out of the main doors of Blackwell. Max and Kate watching, stoic.
Max and Chloe balancing on train tracks, bathed in an afternoon glow, hands gingerly linked together.
The image burns away.
Max sitting across from Joyce and David at their home. Max and Joyce's hands stretched out across the table; David with eyes closed, his head held up in his palm.
Chloe splashing Max, lit from below. There is a depth to their smiles.
The image burns away.
Max sitting alone on her couch, clutching Captain to her chest.
Max and Chloe in bed, smiling for a morning selfie.
The image burns away.
Max and Joyce at the Two Whales. Joyce holding a box, filled with mementos.
Max embracing Chloe from behind, a board full of clues obscured at the edge of the image.
The image burns away.
Max looking through her photos, alone, surrounded by them on her floor.
Max and Chloe embracing, eyes locked, soaked by the pouring rain.
The image burns away.
Max standing alone on a clifftop, framed against the sky, dwarfed by the towering lighthouse.
Just as suddenly as before, Max was reconnected to her senses. Her arms hung at her sides, with no camera to weigh them down. Just the tight grip of drenched clothing. Rain was pouring, echoing against the bay and the deep puddles around her. Max became aware that she was staring down at her feet.
It seemed appropriate.
Just like that, it's all gone. Everything we did, everything we wanted to do. It's all gone.
She's gone.
That feeling hung for a moment, or perhaps it hung for an eternity.
Why the hell did it have to be this way? We were finally back together, and it was so right.
How is this supposed to be fair? Is it supposed to balance some messed up cosmic scales, putting things back the way they were "destined to be" or -
The thought was cut off by an icy feeling. A slow realization that had been creeping up, though Max's shock at her loss had been too great for it to register.
Max was cold. More than that, Max was soaking wet. A violent crash of thunder pulled Max completely out of her reverie. She looked up, and everything was all wrong.
The horrific Storm swirled with malice and spite, ready to crash into the shore and demolish Arcadia Bay.
Max and Chloe had been wrong. The storm was still coming, seemingly undiminished.
"Chloe!" Max shouted, turning around.
But, of course, she wasn't there. Max stood alone on top of a cliff, more powerless and more alone than ever before.
The Storm was about to destroy Arcadia Bay.
And Chloe Price was dead. For absolutely nothing.
AN: Welcome to my take on the ending of Life is Strange. As many players were, I was not very content with the endings as presented. I feel like it is a cop out to believe that going back to let Chloe die somehow averts the Storm, even if Max using her powers is the true cause. Max still uses her powers to rewrite back to the original state or to jump to a timeline where she didn't intervene (depending on which theory you subscribe to on that point). Additionally, if the Storm is just a manifestation of "Chloe is destined to die", I can't accept that. For a game all about choice and the consequences of your action to end with the message that "some things are just destined to be some way" does not sit well with me, though I could see the point.
In any case, I have the next few chapters written and ready for editing. I have a general outline, so rest assured that this is set up to reach a conclusion. I only ask that you take the time to leave a review, detailed or brief. I specifically would love feedback on whether the ending scene either feels too rushed or if it feels unreasonable how long it takes Max to realize what is going on. I'm not fully satisfied with it, but I'm constrained by the mechanics of Max's powers. I want time for Max to grieve before we see that the Storm is still there, but I have to put Max back at the corresponding time and place that she left (minus the few minutes of experiencing it again) for consistency's sake.
I'll try to be more brief next time, but I wanted to provide all of that context for anybody who is interested. Thanks for reading, and I look forward to exploring what comes next!
P.S. - If anybody has tips on how to keep FF from taking out some paragraph breaks, I'd appreciate it. I ended up using all of those horizontal lines because it wouldn't keep an extra space between each section, and I just wanted to visually divide them rather than narrate about them. They always seemed to be meant for the player, not an actual experience that Max has coming out of a photo jump, so I didn't want to talk like Max was seeing the images herself.