Authors Note: (Originally Posted on AO3)

This is my first fan fiction in quite a while, but after finishing Life is Strange for the first time a month ago, I knew it wouldn't be easy to let go of. Like many of you, I was heart broken and disappointed by the final episode. This fic is my attempt to expand upon some of the characters and plot threads that were abandoned as well as develop some aspects of the game that I felt were hinted at in various episodes. My main goal with this fic is to divert the from the canon ending while still staying true to the characters and some of the themes of the original story, including those that I felt were betrayed by the final choice of the game. I want the story to be interesting and different, but not to the extent that it feels completely divorced from the first four chapters of the game. I will use canon dialogue where I can, and follow as logical a path as possible that feels like it could have been a canon ending for the story. I hope everyone enjoys this work, and I greatly appreciate feedback and comments on my writing and the direction the story is taking.

I also think it would be fun to include music that I feel fits the mood or themes of the chapter, taken from a playlist I made, inspired by the Life is Strange soundtrack!

Chapter 1:
Got Well Soon Breton
Tonight, Tonight, Tonight Low Roar


The Blackwell auditorium pulsed with the almost deafening beat of music. Max could feel a headache coming, whether it was from the noise or from her rewind she couldn't be sure. The last few hours had been a blur. Rachel Amber was dead and Max still couldn't quite believe it. After all of her and Chloe's hard work, after all the sleepless nights picking up the cold trail, after finding the Dark Room and fighting against time itself; their efforts were for nothing. Max's heart was heavy with disgust and regret and sadness, but it was nothing to what Chloe must have been feeling.

She managed to spot Chloe who was on the other side of the auditorium, her friend's shoulders were hunched in an effort to contain her fury as she moved through the crowded Vortex Club party. She'd been like that since the junkyard, when they had pulled back the thin layer of earth that hid Rachel away from the world. Max had never seen such grief before. Watching Chloe writhe in emotional agony had broken her heart.

How much do you have to suffer, Chloe? You didn't deserve any of this.

And Chloe had suffered, hadn't she? Suffered the death of her father, the abandonment of her best friend, and five years of loneliness and adolescence.

And I thought I could just take it all back. Like it was nothing.

"I love you, Max," Chloe had whispered. "See you around."

Those had been the final words of the alternate Chloe, the one Max had kill—had put out of her misery. The memory sent a shock of ice through her veins. She had fucked up so, so bad. Chloe had been so broken, a pale shadow of the girl she had grown to know over the past few days. Her Chloe. But that wasn't real, was it? She'd changed things back to the way they had been. But the memories were still there. All she wanted to do was help, but all her help did was hurt her best friend. She still hadn't told Chloe what she had done. How could she? How could she tell Chloe that she had seen her father alive and well again. How could she possibly put into words that she had put Chloe in that hospital bed, her body slowly collapsing from within, tethered down by dozens of tubes and wires? Max wiped a tear from her face.

Would this guilt devour her? She was barely holding things together as it was. But there was no time to wallow in it now. Not with Nathan Prescott still out there. So far their search had turned up nothing. Nathan was nowhere to be found, and no one had seen him all night. Max had thought for sure that he'd be here, but now there a growing sense of unease welling up in her chest, as if each passing moment were leading them somewhere dangerous and uncharted.

At least I warned Victoria. She's got her issues, but no one deserves what Nathan's been doing to those girls.

Max shuddered, the memory of the clinical smell of the Dark Room ghosted across her nose, her headache worsened at the thought of the too-bright white lights. Nathan was seriously disturbed, and his father was funding his sick project. Rachel, Kate, and so many others. How long had this been going on? The Prescotts had too much blood on their hands. Max wasn't sure all the time in the world would be enough to wash it away.

A familiar voice shook her back into the present.

"Max Caulfield, just the person I wanted to see," said Mr. Jefferson, his voice loud.

"Oh, Mr. Jefferson, hey," Max said, looking up at her professor.

He was smiling, his posture less rigid than it was in class; it seemed like he was allowing himself a bit of enjoyment despite his duties as a chaperone. Max wondered what he thought of the underage drinking going on all around him. Maybe he didn't care. He wanted to be seen as the "cool" teacher.

Or maybe he's more worried about his paycheck. The Prescotts and their money practically fund the Vortex Club and the school. I don't think anyone would really listen to any complaints.

"Woah, you look like you're on a mission," Mr. Jefferson said with a laugh, "Everything alright?"

"Sorry Mr. Jefferson, I don't really have time for this. Have you seen Nathan Prescott?"

"That's actually why I was hoping to run into you. I think there's something you should know about him," he said, his voice growing more serious.

"What?" Max's said, disbelief eking into her voice, "I really, really, need to know where he is, Mr. Jefferson."

"We shouldn't talk here. Let's go to my office," He said, placing a hand on Max's shoulder.

"Ok, I'll meet you there as soon as I go find Chloe," Max said, turning back towards the crowd, searching for signs of her friend.

"No, Max. I don't think we have time. If this is as important as you say it is, I think you're really going to want to hear what I have to tell you."

Chloe was still nowhere to be seen; the dancing lights, roaming lasers and vapor from the fog machines made it almost impossible to see very far. When she looked back at Mr. Jefferson, he was already headed towards the exit. With one final glance back at the party, Max left the auditorium.

The walk to Mr. Jefferson's office was as quick as it was silent. Max was too lost in her own thoughts to ask Mr. Jefferson anything, and something about the look on his face told her he wouldn't give up anything until he knew they wouldn't be overheard. Her mind was racing to fill in the possibilities. What did Jefferson know? Did Nathan tell him something? She had a bad feeling about this. Maybe it was the fact that the path before them was illuminated by the unnatural light of two moons.

What the hell is even going on? First the snow, then the eclipse and dying animals, now this? And the tornado could be here tomorrow. Why is this all happening?

Was it all her fault? Could it be that her messing with time had broken something that should have been left alone? But why would she be given a power if she wasn't meant to use it? These questions had haunted her all week, and she was no closer to answering them now than she was then. Max didn't even know where her powers came from. All she knew was that if she had the ability to do something to make things right then she would. If these powers let her save Chloe and Kate, then how bad could they be?

But when I went back for William, I made things worse.

Max didn't want to think about the implications of that thought, so she pushed it down deep.

Mr. Jefferson opened the door to the administration building with his key, leading them into the hallway where his office was located. Max had visited him here occasionally, but never this late. The polished linoleum of the floors glistened in the moonlight that filtered through the windows, giving the hallway a strange glistening look as if everything were slimy. She was struck by the oppressive silence of the building, a stark contrast from the overstimulation of the End of the World party.

"Well, now that we don't have to worry about any interruptions," Mr. Jefferson said, as he motioned for Max to step inside. "Get the lights, if you could."

The office was pitch black as Max entered, the curtained window shielded the room from the moonlight. Max could only just make out the desk in the corner, as well as the bookshelf covered in photography books and the framed works by Mr. Jefferson and his peers. There was something piled onto the sofa at the back of the room, but Max couldn't make it out in the gloom. She flipped the light switch.

Max's breath caught in her throat. Victoria Chase lay motionless on the couch, a steady stream of drool leaking from her pink lips.

"V-Victoria?" Max managed to choke out.

There was a sharp pain in the side of her neck. Her hand reached up to the wound, but her limbs felt heavy, her mind grew slow and confused.

"Yes, she got a little too nosy for her own good. Sound like someone you know, Max?" Mr. Jefferson said, frustration sharpening the words.

Max tried to rewind, her hand raising in a lazy arc for a moment before she began to lose her balance. Her vision began to blur, the sounds in the room became warped and distant.

Mr. Jefferson? N-No, I can't rewind. Can't.

Max blinked and suddenly found herself laying on the floor, unable to move.

"You came to hear what I had to say about Nathan," he said, kneeling down towards Max. "Unfortunately for you, Nathan's not the only one you should have been worried about."

No. Chloe. Chloe doesn't . . .

He smiled at Max and then the world went black.


Nathan Prescott is a fucking dead man.

Chloe's hands were starting to ache after the extensive clenching they'd been subjected to throughout the night. She needed to punch something, if she didn't she was going to explode. It was too much, all of this; the noise, the smell of chlorine and weed and cheap deodorant, the violent vortex of thoughts in her head. She could barely focus on where she was going, and she bumped into party goers more than she would have otherwise. None of them said anything when they saw the look on her face. Good. She wasn't about to take shit from anybody.

This was taking too long. She needed to find Nathan now. She needed him to suffer now. For what he did to her, for what he'd threatened to do to Max. For killing Rachel.

Oh god. Rachel.

Chloe pushed down the trauma of that afternoon deep within her. She didn't have any time for that shit, not now. Rage, rage, rage. That's what she needed. How good it would feel to smash that little rich kid's face in. She smiled, but there was no mirth in it.

She'd checked almost every inch of this stupid auditorium and hadn't found any sign of that weasely fuck. It was looking like this whole thing was a bust. He wasn't here. Maybe it was time to find Max.

But Max was nowhere to be found. At first this merely added to Chloe's mountain of frustration, but as she moved further and further through the party without any sign of Max, she began to grow worried. When was the last time she saw her? Ten minutes ago? Fifteen? Shit, she was talking to Victoria wasn't she? Chloe quickened her pace, her anger bleeding away into anxiety. The faces in the crowd all seemed the same. Not Max, not Max, not Max. Something wasn't right.

"Max!" Chloe called out. "Max Caulfield!"

She got a few odd looks, but she didn't pay any attention to them.

Chloe pulled out her phone, but Max hadn't texted or called. Her fingers rapid fired across the touchscreen.

[Chloe]: Max where th hell r u?

[Chloe]: dude im about to freak

[Chloe]: ?

Chloe pushed Max's contact and pressed the phone to her ear. She could barely hear the call go straight to Max's voicemail. There was no way she'd have her phone off. She'd know better than that.

"Fuck!" Chloe swore as she tried to call again.

Straight to voicemail.

Something inside Chloe shifted, and she knew. Something was very, very wrong.

By the time Chloe made it outside into the frigid October night, she'd called Max a total of seven times.

Don't freak out Chloe. Just take a deep breath and think this through. What would Max do?

Chloe pulled her phone from her pocket, she scrolled through her contacts until she reached one affectionately dubbed "Walmart". It seemed like an eternity passed before the ringing stopped.

"Chloe?" Warren said, his voice groggy and uncertain, a sure sign of his continued intoxication.

"Warren," Chloe began, her voice sounding more desperate than she'd been hoping it would. "Have you seen Max?"

"What? I thought she was with you?" Warren said.

"Shit, I think. . .I think, Nathan might have gotten to her. I can't find her anywhere and she's not answering her phone."

"Oh. Oh shit," Warren said, tripping over the words. "Where are you? I'm coming."

"My truck's in the parking lot. If you're not there when I am, I'm leaving you behind.

Chloe was sprinting towards the parking lot. Her thoughts racing.

If that rich asshole hurt her.

Chloe could feel the hot sting of tears building in her eyes. She couldn't even begin to think what she would do if something bad were to happen to Max.

She fished the keys out of her pocket, almost dropping them in her rush, but what she saw in the parking lot nearly knocked the wind out of her. Her tires were slashed and the beater truck sat lower to the ground on the flat rubber.

"No," she said in disbelief. "No, no, no."

Nathan did this, he must have. Chloe let out a portion of her fury on the poor automobile, adding a few more dents into its body with a roar. This couldn't be happening.

"Chloe!" Warren's voice called out to her from across the lot.

He had sobered up somewhat, but his steps were still clumsy. When he reached her, he was panting. The run had taken a lot out of him.

"My car's fucked! We have to get to the barn. That's where he's taken her, I know it," Chloe said, the words tumbling from her mouth along with all of her fear and rage and guilt.

"Woah, Ok. We can take my car," Warren said, reaching out a tentative hand to Chloe's shoulder.

The girl pulled away on instinct at first, but then let her shoulders fall, her head sinking towards her chest as she let out a shaky breath.

"How could I let this happen?"

"We'll get her back," he said, with a strength in his voice that Chloe did not expect. Warren's grip on her shoulder tightened.

Chloe nodded, her face serious.

Warren handed her the keys.

"You should probably drive."