So, this idea popped into my head during a creative lapse on A New Horizon. "What if CHLOE went up to Seattle and tracked Max down, instead of it happening the other way around as it did in canon?"
Thus, began this story. Hope you find it as fun to read as I did to write it. As I've also explained in the endnote, this story was written on AO3;'s archiving system and ported across, so there's a few differences in format between the two. Mainly because FF lacks strikethrough.
Enjoy.
February 13, 2011
Chloe lay on the hood of her truck, on one street or another,watching the wisps of clouds float by. For the first time in forever, all she had was time. Emotions had blurred into one another, bled like inks in the rain. The faint sting around her eyes was only a buzz now. The last day, or however long had passed, was a black and grey blur. The argument with Joyce, and later David. Getting punched in the face by David. Rachel deciding to "take a break" from their relationship. Every other shitty thing that had happened in that time flashed through the back of her mind. She could faintly feel the cigarette still between her fingers, smouldering. She brought it up to her mouth, taking in another lungful, before exhaling and closing her eyes. Again, the memories fresh in her mind returned to the forefront.
22 hours earlier...
"Chloe, will you just shut your mouth for once and listen to me for a moment?" The blonde's agitation was becoming more evident in her voice. Especially after an hour of trying to explain her intent, and making no perceptible progress. She'd had one purpose in coming here today, and this was it. It killed her to admit it, but Chloe was pushing her to the limits. Had been for weeks, at that.
"Er, no. Why don't you fucking pay any attention to me? Besides, what the fuck do you mean by taking a break from us? Am I just something you can opt in and out of?"
Rachel slammed her fist down on the makeshift table, making Chloe jump back slightly. "No, fucking hell, that's not what I mean." Chloe pulled back, raising her hands.
"Okay. Why the hell should we need to take a break then?"
Rachel sighed, smoothing a hand over her hair, and trying to find a way of putting what she had to say into the right words. "It's just..."
"It's me, isn't it?" Chloe's eyes widened as the thought hit her between them. "You don't want to take a break from us, you wanna take a break from me, don't you?"
"Look, I..."
"Rachel, stop avoiding the question and give me a straight answer for once."
Rachel grabbed Chloe by the collar, dragging her until their eyes were level.
"Why do you have to make things so fucking hard, Chloe? I say we should take a break and you jump to so many conclusions that's it's impossible to get through to you, okay?" Chloe swore she saw a few tears in her eyes as she released her grip a little on Chloe, causing her to lose balance and fall backward. The sky above had darkened since they got here and this conversation had started, as if to be some kind of fucked-up joke from the gods.
""It...is. It's you, I guess." Rachel stood up from her seat, leaving Chloe lying on the floor.
Oh shit. I've fucked up again. I've really really fucking messed this up this time. As Chloe scrambled to her feet, Rachel turned around, the streaks down her face far more obvious.
"Chloe, just...stop, okay? This is hard enough to do, without you... being you." With that, Rachel turned, and left Chloe standing in the hut.
The footsteps on the mix of leaves and debris outside receded, as Chloe paced up and down, trying to control herself.
No no no! Why does everything keep fucking crashing down on me? She paced up to the wall. One with hers and Rachel's names on.
Fuck. This. Fuck all of this.
With an anguished cry, she balled her fist and pelted it into the cinder block beside it. Again, harder this time. The sharp pain as her hand connected with the stone gave way to a numbness, but she kept punching it. Finally, Chloe collapsed against the wall, arms covering her head, sobbing away to herself. behind her head, a small trickle of blood ran down the wall, down from where she'd been striking the wall. Chloe staggered out to her truck and slammed the door, before everything around her receded into black.
Chloe started awake again. It was dark, or at least it felt like night. A knock on the truck window made her jump. A torchlight shone through the window, though it was unlike any she'd seen before.
"Where ya' headed, kiddo?"
Chloe's eyes shot open in surprise, as the blinding light died away to reveal the figure, dressed in an Oregon State Trooper's uniform.
"I'unno, dad. Anywhere but fucking here."
William frowned. "That's another one f-"
"For the swear jar. Yeah, I figured." Chloe interrupted, much to William's surprise.
"Well, what do you plan on doing now? You can't go home and you can't go near Rachel, so by my count, that doesn't give you many roads to go down."
Chloe sighed and put her hands behind her head. "I... I don't even know any more." She stole a glance at him. "Even being with you, right now. That seems a great idea right now."
Another frown. "Darlin', you can't just up and leave this place. Think of those who need you. Mom, your friends..."
Chloe held up a hand, interrupting him.
"You must've been living under a rock for the past week. Mom would probably be happy never to fucking see me ever again... and... what fucking friends?! The only thing I have close to a friend just fucking disowned me! Besides, what the fuck's to stop me, if I want to?"
"She's not your only friend, Chloe," William started, shaking his head. Chloe flinched, realising he was no longer outside the truck, but next to her. A hand on her shoulder, almost making her recoil. "And you've got a point. I can't stop you. Just like I can't stop these scars being there, or more coming after them." Chloe turned her head to face him, tears in her eyes, to find she was alone, yet again. Starting the truck, she set off, northbound. Headlights blurred into one another as she passed them, as did streetlights, as did road signs. The last things Chloe remembered was pulling off the road and shutting the truck's rickety engine off, before collapsing under the weight of fatigue and a broken spirit, and letting the comforting blackness overcome her.
The rays of sunlight glinting off of the mirror and into the cab abruptly ended another bad night's sleep for Chloe. Squinting out of the windshield, she realised she'd almost ran headlong into a sign.
WELCOME TO OLYMPIA- AN ALL-AMERICAN CITY.
Chloe leaned back in the truck. Olympia? There's no Olympia in Oregon, so where the fuck am I? A click of the fingers. Course, still got that roadmap I "liberated" from the purges of Sergeant Douchebag. A faint chuckle escaped her lips. She clicked open the glovebox. As the lid fell, a portable cassette player fell out along with the map, Ignoring the map for a moment, she picked up the battered plastic and studying its contents. A tape, with the message 'I'm Sorry' written on it. Everything else faded into the background, as she stared at the battered tape player. Her eyes began to sting again as the memory of that day came to mind. A handwriting Chloe knew all too well. Despite her protests, the voice in her head won over, as she popped the cassette out and slotted it into the truck stereo. The cracked voice as known to her as the handwriting on the front came over the speakers.
"Hey... Chloe... this is Max. I guess I just wanted to leave you one more message. Because I know this was the absolute worst time for me to go. I thought maybe, if you heard my voice it could be a little bit like I was there. I don't know, maybe this was a dumb idea. I would give anything to be there with you now.
It's so hard, trying to say what I'm thinking. If I could just see you... But we'll get good at it-great at it! We'll write and talk all the time. And then you'll come visit and it'll be like I never left. I mean it, you don't have to worry about anything changing. You're dealing with so much other stuff. You don't deserve any of this.
Chloe, listen. Even if I never-even if we're moving for good... We're always together, okay? Even when we're apart. We're still Max and Chloe. I will always, always love you. Goodbye."
The tape ended with a click, leaving Chloe sobbing silently to herself, barely aware of her hand creeping toward the bloodstained shard of metal in the door pocket. She jerked it away, staring at it as though terrified as to what it'd do next. Knowing what her inner thoughts were pushing her towards. It wouldn't have been the first time that week, either. Or the second, or even the fifth.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I think about her for a minute and I'm practically slitting again. Fucking loser you are, Chloe. Her eyes were drawn back to the map, as she buried the player as far out of sight as she could. Tracing a finger across it, she located herself after a few bouts of cursing the map. Olympia... Washington State, huh? Waitafuckingsecond... Seattle is only, like, an hour from here! Her ecstasy was cut short for a moment, when she glanced at the fuel gauge. Uh...that should be enough, I think? Without a second thought, Chloe hit the road again, only barely keeping the truck to the speed limits.
The trip should've taken her an hour and a half, but Chloe managed it in a little under an hour. More accurately, limped into the gas station just inside the city limits, her truck running on fumes. A brief search of her truck turned up some of the money she'd earned doing odd jobs and deeds- not all of which being good- to try and get by. Chloe stumbled out of the cab, having almost fallen over the bag, with her 'survival pack' in it: a mix of spare clothes, the odd marker and some weed, buried in there somewhere. Still not walking quite straight, and having made sure she'd not be walking the rest of the way, Chloe made her way to the counter to pay.
"Pump, uh... y'see that truck there?" Chloe gave in, resorting to pointing at her truck. The cashier raised an eyebrow, believing it to be a prank of some kind.
"That...Thing, doesn't even look like it should be on the road. Maybe in a junkyard, definitely not on the road."
Chloe narrowed her eyes at the clerk. 'Asshole, my truck kicks the ass off of your shitty Honda any day' was what she wanted to say. Instead, she simply grunted, before her eyes fell upon a phonebook lying on the counter. Her eyes lit up a little. Phonebook. Local numbers. Bingo.
"Er, yeah, maybe my truck is a little worn. Say, is that a phonebook for Seattle?"
The cashier scoffed. "No, it's for Ottowa. What's the big interest in it, anyway?"
"Uh, a number, obviously." The cashier narrowed his eyes at her, disapproving.
"I don't see how someone like you would have a use for a phone number round here." He deadpanned. Chloe bit her tongue, fighting the urge to send a volley of abuse his way. He tucked the book under the counter. "Run home, kid. Assuming that shithole of a truck isn't your home." Chloe scowled and turned, hurting at that last outburst. What if he's right, and my truck is all I've got now? As Chloe headed out of the door and back to her truck, a smirk appeared on her face. The cashier's car was parked around one side of the forecourt building, out of view of any prying cameras. An idea formed in her head, as she parked the truck just out of sight of the window and strolled toward it, marker in hand. A quick glance, and the fun began.
The lesson, asswipe? Don't treat your phonebook like it's some sacred fucking artefact. Chloe chuckled, admiring her handiwork: A Gollum-ized caricature of the cashier clutching a phonebook to his chest, with a speech bubble of "myyyy precioussss!" next to it. Checking over her shoulder, she strolled back toward her truck, a slight skip in her step as she visualised the jerk-off's face when he saw her handiwork. A little way up the road, her radio caught a local station.
"Oh, I'm tired and I'm bored
We've waited by the shops for like an hour
Just to get to some cans of 'bow
It's sad, but days they slowly drag
Let's call the local slag and sing it louder
Then we ever have before-"
Chloe couldn't figure why, but she was grinning like an idiot. Firewalk, and a plan like this. Boo-yah. The road ahead opened up, as the closed-in treeline boredering the road gave way to a suburb. A phone box sat on the corner of the street as Chloe shot past it. Before jumping on the brakes and reversing back to it. Slamming open the shutter door, Chloe found a battered book sat by the phone, dated 2010. What are the odds they've moved in a year? A frown, thinking back to that day. Then again, what did I think the odds were of her moving away, ever? Shrugging it off, She rifled through the phonebook, eyes flicking back and forth.
Calson, Carlton... Caulder-
"Hey, girl, hurry up in there, will ya?" Chloe glanced over her shoulder, seeing a slightly rotund and balding man stood on the pavement, looking like the sort of tourist that had been vomited out of Florida, with the whole psychedelic shorts and shirt, hat that didn't quite fit his head, and glasses that barely hid the extent to which he'd burnt in the sun. Chloe bit her tongue, trying not to laugh hysterically at the guy.
Who the fuck let him dress himself? Or, maybe, did he escape from some kinda acid-testing facility? Pffft...
"You hear me, dumbass? Hurry the fuck up, already!" Chloe stopped and took the book in hand, turning to face Mister Eyescorch. Fuck, I need a better name for him than that.
"Gah, dude! How am I supposed to find a number with your damned sense of dress burning my eyes?"
"HEY!" Sunbeam- Not great, but... sucks less, I suppose- was pissed. Royally. Then again, it was hard to tell whether it was sunbeam or him going crimson with fury, nonetheless it only added to Chloe's near-hysterical state inside at the clown's lack of style.
Shit. Chloe weighed her options.
Stay and bitch-slap this fuckhead? Nope, he's not my type.
Run him over? Uh... hell no, that'd be abuse to my truck.
Chloe clutched the book to her, walking backward towards the passenger door which was in line with the sidewalk.
"Where'd you think you're going, bitch?"
Chloe nodded in his direction, as though to gesture over his shoulder "You dropped something." Sunbeam turned, and in the brief moment he was distracted Chloe hurled herself into the truck, started the engine and tore past him.
"You dropped your acid!" She howled at him through her laughter as she made for a quieter part of town, so she could finish her search in peace.
Caulder, Caulen... Her heart skipped a beat as the name came up, top of the page, before abruptly sinking.
Caulfield. Oh. Fuck, there's like thirty Caulfields in here! Chloe growled irritably, throwing the book onto the dashboard. I've come all this way, had this much crazy shit happen and now I can't fucking find her? What kinda sick joke is that? Caulfield, I oughta fucking kill you when I find you. Who puts their best friend in the world through this shit and expects them to fucking cope? Grabbing the phonebook off the dash, she looked again at the various Caulfields listed.
J and M Caulfield, no...
M and K, no
R and W, no,
V and R... Vanessa and Ryan. I think this is what I'm looking for. Taking a note of the address and number, Chloe pulled alongside the nearest trash can on the street. Taking it in her hands, she gave it once final look. Farewell, fare oracle, for you have served me well. With that, she hefted it into the can and headed further into the city.
That, brought Chloe to where she was now. Lying on the hood, blunt in hand, staring up at the clouds and asking herself the same questions she had been for an hour, maybe more.
What if she really did forget about me? Will she recognise me? What's she gonna react like? Or her parents, sure as shit they're not gonna like me barrelling into their world and blowing it the fuck up.
One last drag, before the smouldering article was flicked away. Chloe sat up, and took her phone from where it had laid beside her. Her thumb hovered over the green button. A button, she figured, that could easily do more damage than a damned nuclear launch. All the while, figuring out exactly what she wanted to say to the backstabbing bitch of a so called motherfucking best friend that didn't even bother calling once in three years, otherwise known as Max.
Is it worth it, after all this time? Guess I'm about to get my answer. She closed her eyes, and dropped her thumb onto the button, immediately bringing the call tone into song.
"No going back now. What happens, happens, Chloe." The voice came from beside her. Chloe glanced up, frustrated, before gazing into the ethereal blue eyes sat beside her.
"Really? I'd never have guessed that one, dad." William chuckled, as he always seemed to. Chloe could never tell whether it was because he found what she was saying funny, or to mock her. After a while, she'd stopped giving a shit either way.
"Well, I'd never have guessed that you'd take things this far. Figuratively, or literally. I mean, Seattle isn't exactly next door neighbour to home."
"I thought this was what you meant, by 'not your only friend'. Besides, Arcadia fucking Bay is not my home. Not without you." William looked perplexed.
"I thought Max made it your home as much as I did, kiddo."
Chloe gazed across the street. "I used to think so too, dad. Right now, I'm just figuring out whether I'm gonna be down for a misdemeanour or a fucking felony."
William grimaced, glancing at the phone. "I suppose you'll get to find out, now." Chloe turned to look at him, her eyes being met with the street. The dial tone clicked off, replaced with what sounded like rummaging around and faint cursing in the background.
The Caulfield Residence
February 13, 2011
11.16 am
Max stared at the mess of photos on her wall, accompanying the clutter at her feet nicely. School was closed today, something about a meeting or a broken water mains somewhere. Not that it bothered Max much: her parents were at work, leaving her to her blissful solace. A glimmer of a smile appeared on her face as she scanned over the pieces of film on her wall.
Welcome to Max Caulfield's Photo Emporium. So many photos, so little wallspace, she mused to herself. Many were relatively new, having been taken in the past couple of years. Seattle had some amazing things to photograph, and Max had always felt that she could explore the whole city, an infinite number of photographs to be had. That's once my parents stop acting like anchors and keeping me locked down at home most of the time. I mean, really, I'm sixteen years old. What's the worst they think'll happen by letting me wander around of my own free will? Getting kidnapped? Mugged? Murdered? Dru... in fact, forget I ever thought that. Max's eyes panned across the plaster, pinned photos sticking out everywhere, before one caught her eye. It was a little worn in places, the edges looking a little worse for wear than most of the others. Max took it off the wall and had a closer look at it. It was of her and Chloe. Her smile dimmed slightly, as the happiness of that photo was tainted by what Max remembered of the events that were to follow. Less than an hour later, instead of William coming back through the door with Joyce and groceries, it was Joyce and an ABPD officer, to tell them that William wouldn't be coming home. Ever. Less than a week after that, Max was on her way to Seattle. She'd left having left Chloe a cassette tape. That was it. No call, no texts, not even a letter.
I abandoned her when she needed me. I didn't even have the guts to tell my best friend that she might never see me again. What kind of a best friend am I to do that to her? Max broke from her internal monologue for a moment, realising that there were spatters of tears on the Polaroid still in her firm grasp.
Did I even deserve a friend like her?
Again, her mind was drawn away from the thoughts of days past as she stared at the phone on the other side of the room. She'd thought about calling Chloe so many times that it hurt. She'd gotten about as far as having her finger hovering over the Call button so many times in those first few months apart that she'd lost track. Now, she didn't dare even consider calling Chloe. Three years wasn't a blink of an eye by any regard, and Max could only imagine how Chloe would feel. Then again, Chloe had told her to go and die. Sixteen year old Max found that a little disconcerting. Fourteen year old Max must've run for the hills when Chloe turned around with that. Max shook her head, disgusted that she was trying to justify having not spoken to Chloe since that day.
Not that the way we left things helps. Leaving without a proper goodbye, and then never getting in touch again. Max sighed, thinking of what might've been. The phone that had laid dormant on the other side of the room burst into life, startling her. Stumbling across the disaster zone she called a bedroom, she almost reached the phone before tripping over a box, landing on the floor with a thud and knocking it off its charging stand, which accepted the call anyway. Max swore under her breath as she untangled her foot and searched for the phone which had fallen between two cabinets. A couple of moments later, the handset was hers.
Score one for Caulfield, she thought, bringing it up to her head, before clearing her throat. Not that it helped, as her voice cracked- her least favourite perk of life-and she sounded like a ten year old. "Hello?"
"Well, there's a voice I'd never thought I'd hear again." Max's heart felt like it had stopped dead in her chest. Sure, it sounded a little older and more matured- and subtly, angry- but she'd know that voice in a sea of millions. But- But- This is fucking impossible?
"What's the matter, hippie? Cat eaten your fucking tongue, or has karma fucking killed you? About damn time it did."
Max stuttered for a moment, trying desperately to find the words she needed. All she could manage was a half-squeaked, half-choked reply. "C-chloe? H-how are you-"
"Even here- on the end of this line? A lot of fucking nerve to ask that, Caulfield."
Max's legs gave out and she landed on the floor, mouth agape, trying to get some grasp on the situation. "But-"
"Save it. I've three years of getting on a level with you to do. And three years' worth of questions why you never called me. How shitty a friend do you wanna be?"
Max felt something burning inside her. Not pain, sadness, but frustration. "You're one to talk about fucking shitty friends! You told ME to go and fucking die that day, remember?"
"YOU FUCKING TREATED ME LIKE I DIDN'T EXIST FOR THE PAST FEW YEARS! WHAT KIND OF COMEBACK IS THAT?" Max opened her mouth to reply. Wait a second... I could hear shouting before it came through on the phone. No, surely... Slowly and carefully, Max moved toward the window, and glanced out. The handset fell from her hand in shock.
Outside the Caulfield Residence, Seattle.
11.35 am
Chloe flinched at the loud bang that came down the receiver. She probably threw the phone across the room. Max never could handle her temper. Her reflection was shattered by the sound of a window being flung open and a shrieked voice.
"CHLOE! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU DOING OUTSIDE MY HOUSE?"
The sudden outburst startled Chloe, causing her to fall off the hood and onto the pavement. Face first, as Chloe's usual manner went. Her eyes appeared behind the truck, annoyance written into them.
"Get your worthless ass down here, and I'll fucking show you!" She growled back. The figure at the window vanished back inside. Chloe smiled, grimly.
Gone and done it now. Best see how this ends up going- A figure darting over the fence into the neighbouring house's garden caught her eye. Chloe squinted, clocking the figure.
"Shit!" Not even bothering to open the door, Chloe dived into her truck and fired up, following the street down until a road cut towards where Max would likely appear. As she'd guessed, Max half vaulted, half fell over the fence as she pulled up, her eyes wide with surprise. Chloe dived out after her, dragging the keys with her. Even with the surprise and the advantage of having driven the first bit, Chloe found herself losing ground, lungs burning.
Fuck, she's good. Chloe came to a halt, panting as she supported herself against a fence. She set off again, limping a little as a stitch dug away at her, watching the figure a hundred yards ahead of her. "Hollywood was dead wrong about this shit," she muttered under her breath, "Or maybe, I'm just doing what I seem to do best and ruining everything again." The figure disappeared down another street, Chloe following as fast as she could. She stopped in her tracks as she saw the crowd, and not Max. A head briefly appeared, still moving away from her, but there was no mistaking that haircut. Barging her way through the crowd and getting a lot of heat for it, Chloe finally burst from the far side to see Max turn down yet another street. Chloe stopped again for breath, before following on.
The figure ahead had stopped, having turned down a dead end, about a hundred yards away. Her silhouette getting larger and larger, features becoming more defined again, as Chloe closed in. Tears streaked down her face, eyes red. Chloe's fists were clenched as the anger of three long years readied itself to be unleashed. The distance closed further still. Chloe could see the emotions written all over her face.
She looks like hell.
She deserves it.
Does she? Chloe's thoughts conflicted as she made the final few strides towards Max. peering properly into the blue eyes of her once-closest friend, and seeing nothing but pain and fear. No knowing what the pain was from, but the fear of God that Chloe was going to tear her to pieces. A fear that the one person she'd held closer than family now wanted nothing more than to hurt her. As she reached the last foot before her terrified best friend of old, all her anger and rage and hatred evaporated, replaced by nothing except disgust at what she'd done.
I'm sorry, Max. You deserve better.
Her emotional barrier shattered under a torrent of tears as she wrapped herself around Max, who was confused and still slightly scared of what Chloe was going to do next.
Max closed her eyes and tensed up, expecting the mother of all punches to land in her face. Instead, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her and a form she didn't need to see to recognise collapsing onto her, crying like she'd never done it before. Max felt more tears welling up in her eyes as she reached around the figure, holding her as tight as she could.
"I'm sorry, Max, I'm so, so fucking sorry."
So, this was originally gonna be a one chapter oneshot, but now it's gonna be two. And maybe, I'm going to write an AU from this as a starting point. Not too sure yet. Anyway, this has been getting written for about a month (hence why I'm releasing it now, before AO3 deletes it tomorrow) which was interrupted by exams. I hope you like this first part. There's a few differences between this version and the one on AO3, mainly caused by me shoehorning this story onto here and solving the formatting conflicts.
In case you haven't guessed it from this and Lightning on the Horizon (my other finished work), I'm not big on Amberprice: nothing against Rachel herself, it's just that to me she feels a lot more of a negative influence than any version of Max could ever be. And as for William reappearing, it felt fitting, as in canon he seems to have a habit of appearing when Chloe is having a godawful time.
See you all again... well, whenever the heck I get my next chapter for this or A New Horizon written. Auf wiedersehn!
P.S: If anyone's got any skills for art, there's gonna be a few points where it'd be handy. I can't pay for anything for various reasons, but if it takes your fancy as something to do, then send a message my way and I'll let you know. (Also, if anyone fancies drawing that graffiti, it'd be helpful, thanks)