A blurry vision fogged into her head.
A room. White, surgical. Lined with cabinets, furniture, what looked like photography equipment. A man, suit shirt, black trousers and Oxfords. Everything went black for a moment. As black turned to blur again, two more figures appeared. One packing a gun, the other in some kind of chair. An argument of some kind, it sounded as though the voices were through a fishbowl. A crack, ringing out. The figure standing on the other side of the room fell to the floor. And then- the fuck?
Another ringing crack. A splatter of red, and the head man standing over her... exploded. Red spattered across her sight and-
Victoria's eyes sprung open as she jumped upward from where she lay. The white was replaced by a dingy- beige? who the fuck had this kinda taste? Her heart hammered in her chest, her breathing sharp and short. Slowly, she came back down to a state that most would consider normal, taking in her surroundings. A lamp that looked like it was waiting on its call from the 70s. A-corded- phone that probably had received its call from the 70s. Curtains that looked like motel drapes... Wait.
Motel drapes.
She was in a motel. The other details started to make sense, as she pieced together where she was. Not a hotel, or a niche hostel or somewhere cosy like that. A. Fucking. Motel. Her brow furrowed as this new information sunk in. She couldn't remember a thing since the Vortex party. Beeping, from time to time, she'd figured she'd been in hospital for some time. Screeching of rubber on asphalt, and screaming. That... that didn't seem to fit in anywhere. Maybe she'd been in an accident of some kind? What the fuck had happened since the last time she'd actually been up and about? Where was she. More importantly, what the hell was she doing here, in this dive of a place? And- she looked down, realising she was actually dressed in something, wishing she hadn't- who would dress someone, or themselves, like this?
"You're awake, at last." Victoria almost popped out of her skin, and the- absolutely dreadful- clothes with it.
Somewhere...
October 28th, 2013.
Around 11 am
The old truck continued to rattle away the miles as the pair- trio- went south. They'd tried to head South along Route 101, until they hit Pacific City. As it turned out, Arcadia Bay wasn't the only place to experience hell-in-a-teacup, although it was indisputably the worst-hit. The 101 was wrecked most of the way south of there, along with everything else, or so the Guard guys posted there had said. The Oregon state office had declared a state of emergency, or so the dude on the rock station had said. So, they'd backtracked along the Tillamook State park road, what was left of it, and were now working their way south. Along whatever open roads they could find. Max glanced across at Chloe, who seemed to be trying her best to tune everything out. All the thoughts, the flashbacks, the blackest memories... even her, to an extent. Not good. This drive was going to be painful as it was, with the mileage and the uncertainty of what would greet them in Cali. Chloe sealing herself off and going into a full-blown lockdown was the last thing Max needed.
"Chlo."
She jolted a little, before noticing a little rest stop by the roadside and pulling in. "C'mon, let's eat. I'm dying here." Max frowned, and after taking a look at their still-comatose passenger/luggage, followed Chloe across to the small roadside cafe. Thankfully for the pair, it looked nothing like a diner: as much as Joyce had survived what went down yesterday, and David with her, the sight of a diner would invoke too many memories embittered by the devastation. They found a quiet table at one end of the shop, and sat down in silence, each only speaking when the waiter came to take their orders. Which, evidently, were their usuals from... there. A litmus test, in effect, with the still-present imprint of the Whales' diner as their benchmark. Once they'd finished, they stayed there for a while. Max's frown became more pronounced as she stared into her bluenette's features. They told her so much and yet nothing.
Have I done something? Has she? Damn, I hate having such shitty people skills. Max tilted her head once more, as she figured her course of action. Welp, one thing for it. Head-on attack.
She extended a hand, to touch, stroke Chloe's cheek. Chloe slapped it away, not even looking at her. Max gasped a little at the surprise of her doing that, coupled with the added surprise of her actually doing that. At least Chloe reacted somewhat, this time, albeit only by breaking from her trance to leave their bill and tip on the table, abruptly standing up and walking for the door. Max caught her up, and as her hand dropped back down from it, Max grabbed her by the wrist.
"Dude, the fuck are you-"
"Chloe. What. The fuck. Is going on?" Max hissed, cutting her off. Now, that seemed to have some effect. Chloe stood there for a moment, as the hamster clambered back onto its wheel in her head.
"Not here." With that, Chloe grabbed her by the arm and dragged her across toward the remains of the treeline. Once she was happy there were far enough away from prying eyes, the back-and-forth of heated words begun.
"Look, what in fucking hell is wrong with you, Max? Can't you tell?"
"Tell? Jeez, you might as well have been fucking screaming out in that cafe, 'I'M FUCKING TEARING MY OWN MIND AND SOUL APART!'"
"What is it to you?"
Max scoffed. "What is it to me? Who the fuck do you think I am, the mailman?"
A scowl in return. Not the friendly, almost playful kind Max was used to. "No. The girlfriend who seems more interested in our passenger back there," Chloe fired back, gesturing at the truck, "Than yours truly. Got cold feet or something?"
"Wh-what? Are you fucking cereal, Chloe?! I'm only checking on her so damned much because I don't even know if she's going to live. And I'm worried about that because unless you are any good at getting rid of corpses, which I'd guess and hope you aren't, then her living is kinda important."
"How do I know that?"
Max growled, before unleashing an outcry of sheer frustration, her fists clenched hard enough to make her palms bleed a little. Her cry was met by the fluttering of wings, as every feathered creature in what sounded like two hundred yards' radius flew far from the brewing war. Max strode up to Chloe, grabbing her by the jacket and pulling her down until their faces were level. All the while, wincing with the pain of putting stress on her shoulder.
"How do you know that. Remember all those other timelines? I know you do, and you've said as goddamned much. Chloe Elizabeth Price, in case you forgot, everything you asked of me, everything, I did. Why would I do that? What incentive did I have to, I don't know, break into a fucking school, steal five G's, and then go for a fucking swim in a pool in the middle of a guarded institution? What rational brain would do that? No, Chloe, it wouldn't."
"But-"
Max's thumb and forefinger clamped down on Chloe's lips as Chloe yelped at the surprise and slight sting.
"I'm not finished. I had no reason, no rational fucking reason, to do any of those things. I chose to do them. I chose to spend that time, making those memories in that first timeline, with you. That fucked-up alternate reality, where you asked me to kill you: I did that because I... looking at you like that, unable to do anything about it, it tore my fucking heart apart. You asked me to do it, and I did it. Not because it was the right thing to do, but because I wanted to do anything I fucking could to help you! Even if that meant..." Max's grip on Chloe loosened, as she backed off and turned away from the bluenette, who stood punch-drunk at the barrage. "Even if that meant having to let you go again. Not... because I wanted it. Because you said it was what had to be done. Okay?" Max slumped onto a broken tree, back to Chloe, her head falling into her hands.
Chloe's chest felt like it was in a vice. Fuck. I've gone and doe it, haven't I? I've gone and fucking fucked this up, again. Chloe sighed, staring upward at the clouds forming, tears beginning to fill her eyes. Walking softly up to where Max sat, broken, she collapsed onto the trunk to one side of Max, wrapping a solid arm around her and pulling her closer.
"Look, I'm...I'm sorry, okay? It's just, everything, it's playing hell with my head. I just needed to be alone in my mind, just to try and fix it myself."
"No, Chloe, you didn't. Been there, fucking tried that, got the near-suicide experience on a clifftop. Being alone with, with... this shit, is worse than having your fucking insides melted bit by bit." Max softened up a little, running a hand down Chloe's back, feeling the bump of every piece of her back. Chloe dropped her head down, bringing it to rest against Max's, as she pulled off her beanie and dropped it on the trunk next to her.
"Okay...No more bottling?"
Max looked at her once again, each seeing the extent of the damage they'd done. Mutually Assured Destruction in human form. "No more. Good to have you back."
Chloe sniffed a little, the last statement driving a dagger into her. Not that Max had meant it to come off like that, but it was the truth. Chloe had, by being her usual "coping" self, caused this. Every last word and move of it. And she hated being that Chloe, not remembering any of how she'd been acting, and then being left to pick up the trail of obliteration she'd left.
Max straddled her, hugging her as well as having a semi-functioning arm would allow. Chloe joined the embrace, her emotional wall breaking apart altogether as a flood of tears unleashed itself, along with a torrent of apologies and self-criticism. Max, as always, brushed it aside. Chloe chuckled through her tears at Max's handling of this, her behaviour, everything. It was like Max could just bypass any emotional barrier she put up, as if-
"Max?"
"Yeah?"
"You haven't been rewinding half of this shit, have you?"
Max rolled her eyes hard enough to scrape out her eye sockets, before jabbing Chloe in the ribs. "In case you forgot, you utter dipshit, If I rewind, you come back with me too, so no point trying it."
Chloe's tearful and amused caricature was replaced by that oh-so-familiar, inquisitive, look. "Yeah, about that..."
"If you're going to ask me how I think it works, stop right there. I don't even wanna think about what part of time got diddled to grant us that power."
The look deepened. "Then how'd you know it'd work in the barn?"
Max shrugged. "A hunch. Or a prayer. Hell, both. That said, fortune favours the ballsy, or something like that."
Chloe snickered, pulling Max closer. "All that tough-talk, and at heart you're still my gooey hipster. C'mere!"
Chloe grabbed hold of Max's jacket, attempting to take it off as the pair collapsed back onto the tree. Just before Chloe could get into her stride, Max held a hand up.
"What? Buzzkill." Max punched her in the arm.
"I'm hella game for what you're thinking, for once. But... not here. Firstly, I don't fancy the chance of any bugs or something getting..."
"Ew, Ew. Hella gross, but point taken."
"Second: we're still in crystal clear view of the damn cafe. I'm not sure I wanna make our relationship that public. Not yet." Chloe glanced up, and just as Max had put it, they were. Complete with a few patrons already fixated on the pair, looking equal parts intrigued and disturbed.
"Oh. Right, shit. Totally forgot that was there." Chloe's cheeks flushed with red. "Nice save. Motel, then?"
"Yeah, so long as it's not called something weird, like the Hotel California," Max replied, straightening herself back up, and pushing Chloe back up as best she could. "That would be creepy as fuck."
"Wait, did you- Dammit Max, getting all those hipster references in there." Chloe exclaimed softly, ruffling Max's hair.
"It's a Classic reference, dork. No taste in music..." Max corrected her, with a tut and a jab to the ribs as they stood up and headed for the truck. Destination: anywhere but here.
Once again, the miles ticked by. Chloe still seemed... withdrawn. Max frowned, equal parts concerned and irritated.
"Chlo." Chloe jumped again, slightly.
"What? Oh, right, my bad. It's just I can't really, y'know, think of anything worth talking about. Can you?"
A smile appeared at the corner of Max's mouth as she thought of a reply. "Yeah. Our... luggage, here. Seeing as how you thought I had eyes for her, it figures I should ask you the same in return."
"WH-wha?" Chloe spluttered, swerving the truck slightly, "Dude, is this some kinda exercise to out me as a two-timer or something?"
Max chuckled. "Well, I did call and see if Jerry Springer could sit in on this, but he said he's busy all day. Something about marriage counselling with Bill Clinton, he said."
"What do you mean, he's- Oh. I see what you did there. Real slick, doofus. I shoulda seen that coming." Max cracked up with a howl of laughter.
"Damn straight. Come on, spill."
Chloe took in a breath between her teeth, debating her answer carefully.
Even though she can't rewind and get the upper hand, I don't wanna say something stupid. But, hell, she isn't that bad. When she's knocked the hell out, that is.
"Okay, okay... she's not bad. Doesn't hold a candle up to you, but either way, not too bad. When she's not in Queen Bitch Mode, that is."
Max snorted. "Yeah, I guess. Smash or pass?"
"What?"
"You heard me." Max's smirk was growing more evil by the moment. Chloe bounced a palm off her forehead, cursing silently for walking headlong into this mess.
"That... that's kinda tough to answer."
Max chuckled. "How so?"
Chloe glanced upward, as far as she could while watching the road. "Well, on the one hand, there's her personality, which'd be a freaking huge barrier."
"Yeah. And?"
"Um... then there's... you. I think that answering this question might not be good for my health."
Max cackled again. "An excellent deduction, Doctor Price."
"Doctor Price? really, that the best you can come up with?"
Max looked at her, taken aback a bit. "Well who the hell else hangs with Sherlock Caulfield, other than Doctor Price?"
Chloe groaned, shaking her head. "You are horrific, you know that?"
Max nodded. "Now, back onto the question: which is it?"
Chloe tapped her fingers on the steering wheel for a moment, deliberating. "Would it be wrong of me to say smash?"
Max laughed once more, as Chloe winced. Damn, how she missed shy Max sometimes. This one knew every way of making her squirm. No fair. Then again, this Max was a gazillion times more confident in herself. So a more brash persona was hella worth that as a trade-off.
"Maybe. Maybe not. For the record, I'd have gone the same on that question."
"Whew," Chloe exclaimed, miming wiping her brow, "So that means I'm not at risk of waking up, and finding myself with half a haircut?"
The evil smile returned. "Depends on how the rest of the night goes."
A few miles on (not that anyone was counting how many), with the sun growing ever-closer to the remnants of the treeline, a small motel came into view. Chloe grinned as Max's previous comment about motels rebounded off her mind.
"Well, it ain't a dark desert highway we're on, and there's no shimmering lights around here. Figure this one will do for now?"
Max squinted at the outside of the building as they pulled into the parking lot. "Looks like it teleported here from the 70s, but yeah. It'll do. You grab the bag, I'll grab our luggage here."
The reception clerk looked stunned at the sight of the three. One looking like she'd rob the place, the other looking like she'd been shot and the third looking like she'd zoned out on drugs or something.
"Might as well turn around now, ladies, we don't serve your kinda here."
Chloe scoffed. "What do you mean, our kind? What do you think we are, some kinda drug dealers, or maybe career criminals?"
The clerk shrugged. "Both, actually." Chloe bit her tongue, making her best effort not to aggravate matters further.
"Look, we just need to find somewhere to stay the night."
"Well, you can head back toward the coast, Or south. Hell, even north, it doesn't bother me."
Max jumped in. "We've already come from the coast! Literally everywhere we've come through is either flattened, burning, or out of rooms!"
"Everywhere you've come through? It's only the north that..." The clerk paused, paling slightly. "You guys... you haven't came from Arcadia Bay, or Tillamook County by any chance, have you?"
Chloe and Max nodded, softly.
"Oh my god. I'm so sorry about this, I'm just a little on edge, y'know. Here," he reneged, pulling a key off the wall, "take Room 4, just up the hallway. If I'd known-"
Chloe put a hand up, interrupting him. "Don't worry about it. Everyone has the right to suspect something. And let's face it, it's not every day you get someone us walking in in this state. And thanks."
The clerk nodded, colour returning to his cheeks a little, as the pair dragged their comatose charge into the room, dropping her down on one of the beds.
"Two bedrooms? Sweet!"
Max grinned. "Yeah. Give Vic one room, we take the other."
Chloe frowned. "Give her the room to herself, where's the point in- oh." Chloe stopped, seeing the major facepalm Max was going through. "Shit. And I say you're the hopeless lover." Closing the door behind themselves, in the (hopefully) unlikely event of Victoria waking up, they de-clothed each other, before finishing what Chloe had tried to start an hour or two earlier.
Pleasant Dawn Motel
October 29th, 2013
9 am- ish
Max and Chloe's morning waking-up of each other was interrupted by a cry from next door.
"Shit, sounds like sleeping beaut through there's finally awake."
Max nodded, scowling. "I thought I was your sleeping beauty."
Chloe's eyes widened. "No, no no, I didn't mean it like-" Max's expression changed. Chloe grunted with irritation, pushing Max onto the floor. "Dammit, you're getting good at walking me straight into these damned things."
That familiar chuckle came up from the floor. "I gotta have some defence against your minefield of dirty jokes and innuendos. Which, for the record, I seem to end up tap-dancing in. Every-frickin'-time."
Chloe sat up off the bed and slipped on some clothes, before grabbing one of Max's outstretched hands and dragging her off the floor. "Shall we check on her?"
"Totally." Max threw on a t-shirt and some shorts that were lying on the top of the duffel bag, before joining Chloe at the open door. In the next room, their pixie-haired companion was sat upright on the bed, scanning about the room.
"You're awake at last." Chloe stated, both her and Max snorting slightly with laughter as her response of jumping out of her skin. A pair of green eyes locked themselves on the doorway.
"Kari. Price."
Max scoffed. "Chloe. Price, actually. But, yeah, good morning to you too."
Victoria looked confused. Well, that was an understatement, she wore the expression you'd expect to see on someone who'd woken up aboard an alien spaceship.
"What the hell am I doing here? Did you two abduct me? I want to go home, now! I swear, I'll call the cops down on you so fast-"
"Look, Vic', home doesn't fucking exist any more, okay?" Max snapped, her face reddening a little.
"What?!"
Chloe snatched the remote up off the shelf, beating Max's hand to it. Max scowled at Chloe. "Dude, I wanted to launch that fucking thing at her face!" she uttered, quietly and irritably.
Chloe shook her head, switching on the TV and flicking across the channels. Almost every single one had the same things on them,
"Reports from north-west Oregon are still sketchy..."
"...Total devastation in and around Tillamook County..."
"...for survivors in Arcadia Bay are still ongoing-"
Chloe shut the TV off after that last snippet, the remote dropping out of her hand. Max wrapped an arm around her waist.
"You...you cool?" she whispered in Chloe's ear.
"Y..yeah. It's just still, sinking in ,I guess." A glance across the room showed Victoria was as pale as Chloe had just been, before she flopped back onto the bed.
"Ah, shit. She flaked, Max."
Max shrugged. "I would too, given the information hosepipe she's just had rammed down her throat. Chloe chuckled a little.
"What's funny? Oh, that..." Max punched her in the stomach, softly. "See what I mean about tap-dancing in that minefield of jokes?"
"Uh-huh. Anyway... how the literal fuck are we gonna explain the past three weeks to her?" Chloe flopped down onto the window sill closest her. Max followed, tilting her head side to side, softly, trying to work out what to do. At last, she shrugged.
"Not a clue. You?"
"Me? Dude, if I'm gonna become the brains of this crazy-train, it's gonna derail so fast."
Max nodded. "I know. Looks like we're following the words of one Saint McClane."
"Huh?"
"Yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers! Max and Chloe are in town!"
Chloe scraped a palm down her face, groaning. "Oh, we are so screwed."
"I know."
A/N:
And so it begins. I was intending to start writing this sometime in June, but I got bored and decided that with the ideas in my head, now would be a good enough time to begin. This and the next chapter, maybe two, will serve as quasi-Q&As for the events of the previous story.
As for that joke regarding Jerry Springer... sorry, but I couldn't help it. Besides, a more sarcastic Max- whose personality has been influenced more heavily by Chloe than in the canon timeline- would probably come out with that.
Anyway, I hope you like what you're getting so far. It'll probably be a few weeks before I write the next chapter: I'm (meant to be) revising for my A-Levels and getting other stuff done and it's seriously booting me halfway into 1989. Welp.
B.