Aphelion Chapter Two: The Plan, a Radio Dramas + Life is Strange Crossover fanfic

Disclaimer: I own the rights to more or less nothing seen here, nothing from Life is Strange or the Public Radio Alliance or Pacific Northwest Stories. This is entirely a fanbased work for personal enjoyment.

Chapter Two: The Plan

Chloe stood back up straight as the shower began to run, giving the water heater time to adjust levels and make it so that she would be neither freezing cold nor scalded when she stepped under the water stream. Chloe was not necessarily in the hottest of moods, still. The memory of the man who had just left the house maybe ten minutes beforehand still stung like a thorn in a paw. The gall of the man to come in and suggest that there was some reason they didn't want the truth out about Arcadia Bay, like they were hiding something, it was fucking unbelievable. It didn't help anything that he was entirely right. He couldn't possibly know that, which made things all the worse. Chloe popped her knuckles. This sound resounded over the stream of water. It was too quiet for her taste and she had known it would be.

That was why, sitting on the edge of the sink was an old CD player which had been picked up second hand outside of Seattle the last time Max and Chloe had lived there. It was one of the few things alongside the bed, a dresser and an old television (and, of course, her pirated music and film collection) to make it to Seattle from LA. Today, when she pressed the play button, it began to play track 7 of an old mix intended to be listened to on days just like today, when she was pissed and there was just nothing she could do about it. She stared at her oil slicked face in the mirror in front of her, as of yet unclouded by the steam which would soon build up in the room and condense across its surface.

When I get mad
And I get pissed

I grab my pen

And I write out a list

Of all the people

That won't be missed.

You've made my shitlist.

Despite the fact that for at least the next couple of hours, the house would be empty save for Max herself, Chloe was rather glad to draw the shower curtain tightly closed behind her. She was glad when a further curtain between her and the house was made by the humidity and yet another by the music. Threefold, her protection against thinking about anything or anyone outside of the confines of the damned shower was about the best chance she had of understanding precisely why she was so mad. It was also her only real private time, in the long run. She reached sideways, soaked and lathered up a rag and decided to start with the remnants of oil and grime caking her face. The most annoying thing about the guy was that he seemed like he thought he was being… real with us. It didn't seem possible that, despite his protestations to the contrary, he would be capable of understanding what they went through. Not really. It all smacked of a waste of time, not to mention being seriously stressful on Max as much as herself. She understood what Max was thinking about wanting to go back and try to find closure, too. It just sounded naive as all hell to Chloe. What kind of closure could there really be from something like this? And really, this Nic guy may have seen scary things or shit he didn't understand, but we're talking about things that would blow his fucking mind. Whatever weirdness I'm going through would blow his mind, much less Max's time warrior routine.

Chloe tried to push the man from her mind so she could finish up washing, but it really went no quicker. Whether she was irritated or the evidence of her afternoon's activities were especially hard to wipe away today, the battle just felt a little bit on the endless side. By the time Chloe started to soap her hair up, she had gone through about a quarter of the tracks on the CD she had burnt what felt like a long time ago in an apartment, far, far away. Chloe let it roll on as she threw the towel aside and began to pull on her clothing, one article at a time, almost a little too mechanically. She had taken the time to pick out her punkass best, for the evening, but she still did not feel her punkass best, if that made sense.

She was no longer angry, though the player continued to spew tunes for angry mornings. There were days, Chloe considered as she stepped out of the shower, turned the water off and set about drying, that this CD player was the only thing that motivated her to get out of bed in the morning, back in Los Angeles. This was especially true and frequent during the period of time between Max's psychotic episode and their mutual return to Seattle. Alone, she had not felt the motivation to get up, much less shower, cook, eat, work, clean or generally function like a human being. Getting angry had been her only option. That was when Chloe had first realized that anger had been her only option, before, after Rachel's disappearance, up until she got Max back.

She applied a bit of eyeliner mostly for the sake of doing it, of feeling like she was more than she had been back during those days when a shower had felt like a great expenditure of energy and then turned off the CD player. Where she was going, Chloe knew she was going to be somewhat distracted and that was for the best. She looked forward not to thinking about Arcadia Bay or this Nic Silver character (Really, who the fuck is actually named Silver?) for a couple of hours. Sunday dinner at the LGBT youth group she volunteered with would at least take her focus while she was cooking it. Sitting with people and talking during dinner was guaranteed to be fairly distracting, too. If I can get there, tonight. Chloe pushed open the bathroom door, not entirely able to deny she was probably a bit too tired, tonight. She had not done much today, so this sense of exhaustion was a little bit familiar and disturbing. Chloe slapped herself on the cheek a couple of times and turned left down the hall, bare feet padding across thick carpet as she tracked through the quickest (and only) route to the kitchen, down the hall and through the living room. She was halfway to the kitchen by the time she fished her phone out of the pocket of her jeans. This meant that she paused, settling onto a seat on the couch.

Hey, J. Down to get there tonight, but need a ride if ur coming by this way

Jordan

Yeah can do. That old piece of shit give out

Just needs a few things. could probably get it going, but like being nice to it. It's old. Got gas money.

Jordan

Are we being blessed with your better half?

Fuck you. Every1 knows Im the better half but I thnk she's a little overloaded today. Had an unexpected visitor and that fucked her up

Jordan

OK, see you in about an hour then.

Thx

Sometimes, knowing on a subconscious level that she was living with the Caulfields, it was still disconcerting to look up and see this place and not their home in Arcadia Bay. She had just spent so much time there that the new place was jarring. The living room, for example, was large and spotless. Its walls were a tiny bit spartan, but they were a nice neutral color and tied the grey carpet and area rug together nicely. By far and away the best part of the room was the large, flat screen mounted on one wall, of course. The couch was comfortable too, even if the loveseat was a little too stiff for her tastes. She and Max had gotten their fair share of usage out of that, especially in the weeks following Max's release from the hospital. Chloe's attention was dragged to the present by a clanging noise from the kitchen. It sounded as if Max was up to something.

She strolled in a bit quieter and more hesitantly than she meant to, mostly because she knew that they had both been through something about an hour beforehand and her shitty mood had probably made things even worse for Max instead of helping. You weren't being protective of her, you were being protective of yourself, she thought. This was not really her scolding herself, this was just part of her ever growing effort to understand her own emotions. Talking with a therapist, herself, had been kind of an eye opener. She had not been able to maintain that connection, because counseling cost money, but they had worked with a local psychiatrist to secure her some meds. Speaking of meds, they were the first thing Max reminded her of the moment Chloe stepped into the kitchen.

The brunette was filling a large pot with water when Chloe entered, looking a bit absentmindedly around the room until her eyes landed on her girlfriend and then, immediately, the shorter woman nodded toward a dark wooden drawer set into the counter along the west side of the room. She and Max kept their medication there, for ease of access, so Chloe had little trouble discerning what the girl meant as the sound of water hitting the bottom and sides of the pot did little to mask the silence in the room. Chloe paused halfway to the drawer to shoot a look around the room. An old rag sat toward one edge of the kitchen table. At some point Max had removed all signs of Chloe's greasy, oily handprints from the table. Chloe considered apologizing, concerned that Max might be angry about this and not other things before she saw that the brunette had a very small but, no less present, smile on her face. Okay, okay, that's good right? Actually, it made almost no fucking sense to Chloe, but she turned away and pulled the drawer in question open.

"Have you taken yours?" Chloe asked as she popped open the bottle of fluoxetine and then turned. She poured a pill out into her hand, leaning back against the counter. Max's response was a brief nod. The brunette lifted the pot out of the sink and before she could turn off the water, Chloe tossed the pill into her mouth, cupped her hands beneath the cool stream of water and washed it down. Bitter as it was, it was supposed to help her maintain her mood and appetite and keep the depression at bay, keep it from getting so bad that all she had to rely on was her anger again. She knew better, now, than she had a couple of years ago. She knew that going through life angry was ultimately self-destructive. Max had played a role in her learning that but she had also done plenty of damage to herself and her life as a result of fueling herself off of rage alone. The tense relationship with her mother that characterized the last years of the woman's life still hurt to think about. "And what are we up to?"

"I figure," Max started, and Chloe paid close attention to her voice to try to get a measure of her mood and mental state, "I'll make dinner tonight." Chloe sighed in relief as she realized that the admittedly confusing sense of well being about the girl went deeper than a smile plastered on her face. It sounded out, proudly, in both the tone and volume of her voice. For whatever reason, their conversation with Nic Silver had left Chloe upset and angry and Max - what, hopeful? She really thinks there's some kind of cure all waiting back there. It's not going to be like that. It's just going to hurt. A lot. Chloe swallowed again, though this time it was not to keep down a bitter pill, but a bitter comment.

"Vanessa never seems too sure about letting us cook," Chloe said, instead, trying to earn a smile from Max. She received a chuckle instead. Either Max was in a good mood or was trying to convince Chloe she was, either way overthinking it was going to just cause more problems. If she was right and going back to Arcadia Bay meant trouble, then she had a feeling they would find out soon enough. The man with the shaggy hair had seemed to be chomping at the bits to get any little scrap of information about the town. "Sure that won't put her in a bad mood?"

"Nah," Max told her. "At least, I don't think so." The girl turned around a little more quickly than Chloe expected her to after setting the pot on the stove. "I'm gonna do my best to get them in a good mood, then when you get home tell them we're going on a trip." Of course, butter them up a bit. She turned away, herself, to cap her pill bottle and toss it back into the drawer. The brunette caught Chloe off guard, though, because she was still staring intently at Chloe when she turned back. Her eyes were searching, again, but for what Chloe did not know. This was one of those times she thought she might need to ask, but also one of those times it sounded stupid to do so. For a moment they stayed paused like this and then Max gestured toward a package of hamburger on the counter. Chloe smiled, crookedly as she approached Max, brushing softly against her as she dug a baking pan out from beneath the oven. Max's response was to run a hand along Chloe's shoulder, up the back of her neck and then remove it quickly. To anyone who did not know them, maybe the caress would have seemed tentative, but it wasn't. Not really. It was the equivalent of a peck on the cheek, or a quick, 'I love you.' It was a transference of feelings of care, appreciation, worry all done in a matter of a second.

Chloe felt a little better as she sat the pan down on the counter, spread a bit of garlic salt, pepper and onion powder across it and then put it aside. The hamburger she dumped into a very large bowl and started to mix up with more of these same spices. Max did not speak again as she turned on the burner and started the water boiling. After spicing the batch to what she thought would be a decent taste, Chloe began to roll meatballs in similar silence. If she was going to spend all night preparing dinner for people, she might as well help with Max's efforts to do the same. Call it a warm up. Inevitably, as she performed the rather monotonous task of rolling a meatball, setting it out on the pan and repeating the process, her thoughts strayed.

Where does she even want to go when we get there? Last I heard, it was just rubble and shit. A couple of the buildings by the shore are still kind of there, but the diner went to shit and burnt down. I can't think of a reason to do this. Chloe sat down her third meatball and looked over her shoulder at Max, who was now staring through the window above the sink out into the fading dreary, overcast afternoon. What could she want to see? Blackwell? Why would she want to see the place all busted up? Chloe could safely assume that some roads had been cleared for emergency vehicles after the storm first happened, but that had been a long time ago. Time, weather and people screwing around in the ruins had probably made some roads unsafe to drive down. Were they going to be stupid enough to go walking around Arcadia Bay? It would be colder than shit. Maybe, she told herself, this is something Max really thinks she needs to do and you can stop being a whiny bitch long enough to help her out.

"Max?" Chloe started, her voice hesitant. An apology was on the tip of her tongue, both for how she had reacted to the whole thing and for the thoughts rushing around her head, thoughts she knew that Max had no way of knowing, but which Chloe could not help but feel guilty for, anyway. When Max did not immediately respond, Chloe shifted herself at the counter so that she could see the baking sheet beside her and her girlfriend at the same time and kept rolling. Max was focused on the task of getting the oven preheating, taking her time to get the dial just right even though Chloe was fairly certain that being off by a degree or two wouldn't hurt anything. Max was just funny about that sort of thing, sometimes. Chloe turned back away. The idea that maybe Max needed time to think and that was why she was being so quiet had occurred to her, and Chloe was not looking to be pushy. She had done enough pushing during their conversation with Nic, though that had been an attempt to push the man away from them pretty quickly.

Long before Chloe could get impatient and turn back around she heard four soft footsteps and then felt arms wrap about her midriff, hands clenching in the front. Chloe slowed slightly as she felt the woman's cheek press into her back, just between her shoulder blades. It took all of her effort not to let a wave of tension emit from the point of contact, out through her body. She had no idea why Max had first started to do that, but they had quickly realized that this was an incredibly sensitive spot for Chloe, and now it seemed that Max took advantage of that fact fairly often. Chloe did not try to hide the hitch in her breath, or the way she shivered at the contact. She continued to roll meatballs for the dinner, just a bit more carefully so no elbow could come back and strike the woman behind her. This, Chloe took as acknowledgement that she had just called out for Max. Chloe smiled to herself, and instead of the apology, she spoke with as much care and passion as she could.

"Are you absolutely sure that you want to - that you can go back to Arcadia Bay?" The warm arms around her stomach did not move. The face pressed against that spot between her shoulders did not move. The steady movement of Max's chest that indicated that her lungs drew breath did not slow. Chloe was not sure why that made what felt like some malformed sob escape her but she held onto the sensation, the jumble of emotions that popped up alongside it and waited for Max to be able to speak. Their mutual patience with one another was what kept them together and she did not just mean that in the way of keeping their relationship stable. It was that patience that held them together, a bond which kept Chloe from snapping or Max from making snap judgments, both things that would end with either of them curled up in their beds, afraid of each other, afraid of themselves, afraid of the world around them. In that moment, Chloe knew that if it held even a bit of hope to bring Max closure, she would do whatever it took, up to and including walking the ruined streets of Arcadia Bay for a couple of days,

"I'm sure," Max insisted, "if you are." She did not grow more quiet at the this last. Instead, the question, the care inherent in it was louder than the first part, more demanding of Chloe's attention and thought. "I think it could be good for me, at least and I hope it will for you, too." Chloe was still dubious that this would do anything but upset the both of them, but she nodded. "You've been doing so well lately. Your nightmares are getting less frequent and we almost never end up sharing them anymore." Max did not add the last thought in, but Chloe thought she could imagine the brunette thinking it: no one had seen Not Rachel in a long time, either. The ghost of an image of Rachel Amber had stalked Chloe and the Caulfields around the neighborhood, throwing rocks at cars and making threats during Chloe's first couple of months in Seattle, when Max was still in long-term treatment. Chloe had not been able to explain to the Caulfields who this girl was, instead forced to lie as she had struggled to come to terms with the idea that Max's hallucinations had been her own fault, as much as Max's. She tried to tell me she would've lost it anyway, and maybe she would have. We were both so stressed out. I just hate the idea that I did this.

"Rachel might be gone," Chloe muttered, "but we did both see Victoria last month." Chloe was not sure what to make of this whole 'power' business. What she did know was that it complicated life. It made everything, including sleep, more delicate. She still struggled with the idea that the

"We did," Max agreed without moving her head from where it was buried or even changing the encouraging tone of her voice. "But you'd just met Mrs. Chase - and she looks so much like her. Anyone would think about Victoria looking at her." Chloe sighed. The idea that shoving the specter of Victoria Chase in both of their faces had not upset Max was relieving, but nothing could beat the realization she had had that day that as she and Max stood hand in hand in the Chase Space, with the owner on the other side of the room, that only the two of them could see the ghost of Victoria Chase staring with eyes the size of saucers up at one of the photos hung on the wall, one of her own. It seemed as if Victoria had been destined to gain some local popularity posthumuously. Destiny, or nepotism.

"Alright," Chloe replied, sighing as she placed down yet another meatball and started on the next. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I am getting better. Maybe Arcadia Bay will help. I'm just afraid of the nightmares." Bringing nightmares of the storm back to Seattle, again, would not be something that Chloe would be able to help but feel guilty about. The dreams had apparently disturbed Ryan and Vanessa to such a degree that they had taken a 'weekend holiday' just to try to get them out of their heads, the first time.

"I usually am right," Max told her, pulling back finally and sounding a little offended, as if Chloe should have known that to begin with. Chloe grinned at the bowl of meat in front of her and did not turn to let Max know immediately that she had pulled that smile from Chloe. "Anyway, I meant what I told that guy. I want to see Arcadia Bay. The people at that hospital made me doubt everything, for weeks. Everything. Besides, it's like I said. If he wants the story, he'll have to see it to really understand." Chloe remembered just how screwed up Max had been even after Chloe telling her about how she thought she was causing Rachel to show up, how she was giving people nightmares. A lot of conflicting, confusing thoughts and impulses remained in Max's head even now, she knew, but at least when the brunette looked at her, it was with love in her eyes and not fear. For a time, Max had questioned whether Chloe was truly with her because she cared for her, or if it had all been guilt, or some sense of duty or worse, some long term plot to make Max feel bad. Either the doctors in that place had done a number on Max or all of that time away from Chloe had resulted in Max disappearing into her own head and inventing some pretty ugly fears for herself to struggle with. Either way, Chloe was happy at the idea of quieting even the last clingers on of those paranoias, of those doubts.

"I guess I wonder why you want to tell the story. Why would you want to tell it to anyone? It's… it's so crazy sounding they'll never believe us. They'll just think we're lying or sick." On that point, Chloe remained firm. There was no way in hell that anyone was going to believe that Max could time travel even though Chloe had seen her do it. Then there was the fact that it might paint Max as some kind of monster who had chosen Chloe over an entire town, even if it had not been that simple, even if Max was not a monster, even if she told Chloe that she still dreamed about their faces at the moments of their deaths. Max did not return to burying her face in Chloe's back, nor did she release Chloe but she also did not answer immediately. Chloe continued rounding out the meatballs, noting that the pan was getting full and the bowl with the untouched meat empty. The oven was probably nearly done preheating, by that point.

"I don't know," Max finally admitted. "Maybe it's time it finally gets out there or - or maybe it's Nic." Chloe tilted her head and glanced back at the brunette for the first time in what felt like might have been several minutes. "It's just-" she started and then stopped, looking a little confused. Her next statement came out like a question, though whether she was looking for agreement, confirmation or just unsure about her wording, Chloe did not know. She did not try to theorize. "Something about him looked like someone who had seen things that they couldn't unsee. Something about him was like looking into a mirror." Was it? To Chloe it had been kind of what she imagined a prey animal to feel when a predator rounded a corner all of the sudden but had not yet seen them. It wasn't that he struck her as inherently threatening, it was just that he represented a kind of exposure and a kind of danger they had been doing their best to avoid since they were ambushed outside of the Caulfields' home after they had first shown up.

"The guy's… disconcerting," Chloe told her. "Like, it's like he's kind of inconsistent. Like he means everything he says and all the words sound right and they feel right, but they also feel wrong? Not like he's lying, but like he's just wrong." She pounded a meatball into shape a little more roughly than she intended and the poor, lumpen little thing settled onto the sheet to her right. Almost done. "It's like if you're having a really deep talk with someone and they say something just… wrong. Like, they really think they're right but they're just not and it's jarring and weird." As Chloe said all of this she realized she was having the thoughts out loud for the first time. "I don't know how else to say it."

"I'm with you that I'm uncertain about him, but - this just seems like the right choice." Chloe sighed as she placed yet another meatball down. There was enough in the bowl for maybe two more. Part of Chloe hoped she could have some leftovers of this the next morning. Spaghetti for breakfast was not weird, no matter what anyone told her. Chloe just knew she was going to have to bend. Max spoke as if the trip was a guarantee, meaning for some reason or another she knew they were going. Whether that meant that she would be going to Arcadia Bay with or without Nic or that she was sure he was going to agree, Chloe didn't care. It was effectively the same thing as far as she was concerned.

"Okay, I'm with you, but there are two conditions." This time, Chloe did turn around fully, which forced Max to release her. There was something a little bit heartbreaking about the warmth of those arms vanishing from around her midriff, but she did not dwell on it for too long. "First, we spend pretty much all of our free time between now and then figuring out who this guy is. Google, reddit, twitter, all that shit - and listen to as much of the podcast as we can before Friday. If this guy's some kind of secret freak or pervert or some shit, I'd like a warning ahead of time." Chloe did not think that this was going to be the case. Even a few months back Steph probably would not have pointed her toward someone who was ultimately any kind of major asshole. I really should have listened to more, checked it out closer. Chloe had honestly dismissed the suggestion as Steph's blooming love affair with the occult. Steph had always been kind of nerdy and when Chloe reconnected with her shortly after almost losing Max, she had found Steph not too terribly changed by time on that front. Their friendship this time was different than it had been when they were in school together: cooler, more distant but nonetheless there and something that Chloe had relied upon. One thing that became clear pretty early on was that Steph was one of those people who had become obsessed with Arcadia Bay and finding an answer - any answer for it.

"The podcast was behind the times, he said, so there may be more about him we don't know."

"There's going to be plenty about him we don't know," Chloe grumped. "No one puts everything on a podcast." She slapped the last meatball down on the sheet beside her and shuffled over to the sink with the bowl to wash her hands. Over the stream of water, as Max kindly tapped the hand soap pump, allowing her not to dirty it up, Chloe decided it was about time to risk pissing Max off once and for all. "Last condition: I'm bringing the gun. If I can do that, I'm fine to go, and I'll decide what, if anything he gets to know about Rachel when the time comes." Max's look of relief started to fade almost immediately. Chloe did not know if it was at the mention of the blonde thespian or of the gun. They had acquired it under less than ideal circumstances through methods that she was fairly certain had been highly illegal. Thank you, Mark. After a moment Max swallowed and nodded. Chloe shut off the water and shook her hands dry over the sink.

"I don't think you'll need a gun. Whatever else he is, Nic doesn't seem dangerous."

"Maybe not," Chloe told her, mentally making a note to reach out to Blair and her boys. "But he said something about bringing a friend with him and you agreed, remember? We don't know anything about this guy or his friends. Plus, for all we know Arcadia Bay is dangerous, too." That was something she had never really thought of. Who knew what kind of people or animals might be squatting among the remains. "Imagine, there could be some kind of nutso redneck survivalist type with a shotgun or something out there waiting to just drop anyone who came near. I'm not looking for someone like that to get the drop on us. When I die, it's not going to be to someone with a Duck Dynasty beard, telling me 'you's gots a purty mouth'." Max rolled her eyes and sighed audibly at Chloe's antics and then took the tray full of meatballs away.

"Grab the garlic bread from the freezer, will you?" she finally asked Chloe, which Chloe took to be an agreement with her conditions. While the brunette threw the meatballs into the oven, Chloe did as she was bade and brought the simple, easy side dish out of the freezer, leaving Max to arrange them on a different sheet. Chloe smiled at Max's back as the photographer did just that. "What's it gonna take to get the truck running again?" At Max's gesture, Chloe turned on the burner beneath the pot.

"Brief run into town for some fluids and a couple spark plugs," she answered offhandedly. "We can do that in the morning." Then Chloe started and turned to look at the time. It was nearly five. "Oh, fuck, right. I'm not taking the truck out tonight so I called Jordan for a ride. I think he'll be by in about forty minutes." To Chloe's immense confusion, the brunette turned, frowning and crossed her arms. Was this going to turn into some kind of thing where she revealed she was jealous of Jordan or something? Because that would be absurd. The redhead in question was as queer as a three dollar bill, the same as them, but Chloe was fairly certain he was actually flat out homosexual. Instead of uncharacteristic jealousy, when the brunette talked, her voice was laced with implication and innuendo.

"Forty minutes isn't much time." The photographer covered the distance between them, her eyebrows wiggling once suggestively as she lifted her hands to rest on either of Chloe's shoulders. Chloe grinned back at Max, but decided to playfully chide her a bit.

"You really shouldn't let your mind wander when there's something on the burner or in the oven," Chloe told her, trying to sound stern and disapproving instead of slightly eager as their lips met. What started as soft warmth became a harder, insistent kiss, one which invited the passage of tongue from one mouth to another, a small chuckle into her partner's lips, and wandering hands. The playful admonishment was almost forgotten when she felt the fingertips of Max's right hand trail up along her spine, toward that spot between her shoulder blades. Its importance certainly seemed significantly reduced against the backdrop of the small fire starting between them. About the third time she felt Max's lips press against her throat, Chloe was forced to ease herself back. "Forty minutes isn't enough time," was all she said by way of explanation. It was absolutely no fair of Max to even consider getting Chloe worked up when she had to leave in such a short time, yet Chloe could not stop laughing as they untangled themselves, as Max's eyes almost looked to brighten just slightly. For all that things weren't perfect, they had come far from their shitty little apartment in LA, from lying to one another.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Max told her, leaning in close again but instead of kissing her, simply pressing her forehead into Chloe's.

"I got too angry earlier," she whispered to the girl. "I think I have a thing against journalists." She had not forgotten the constant ringing of their phones for the first three months after Arcadia Bay was destroyed, which culminated in them backing the photos on those phones up onto Max's laptop and then hurling them out of the window. It was only a shame that by that point, no one had been camping out in front of the house to get hit in the skull with them.

"I know," Max assured her, looking up at Chloe through fairly thick, straight lashes. "I know."

"While you're knowing things, you should know you're mine tonight," Chloe muttered, their lips only inches apart.

"You promise?"

Chloe promised.

Max didn't feel too terribly guilty about the fact that Chloe had only been home a couple of minutes when Max reached over, squeezed her hand and made the first gesture with her chin toward her (hopefully) unsuspecting parents. The taller woman immediately shook her head no, as if it was still too early, which Max figured might be true considering that her mother's and father's eyes were still glued to the screen. Max yielded to her judgment on this and hoped that she at least had time to relax in the interim. Chloe had not only helped her in preparing a meal for her mother and father, she had also helped cook a meal for anywhere between thirty and forty people right after. Despite that fact, she did not look entirely too beat up. In fact, she had come home smiling. Chloe found a sense of community with that group and Max could understand that. Sometimes, when she helped out there, she felt useful and that was nice. Most of the time, Max just left the place feeling drained as if the sheer number of people had been overwhelming to even look at, much less help cook for. Though, I guess I'm glad I was there that day with that kid, Andy. Even if Chloe was the one he needed.

That day, she had been taking a break when she stumbled across a younger guy who was upset and could not be calmed by his friends. Max had swallowed a hundred voices telling her this wasn't her business and managed to ascertain from him that his father, who had consistently deadnamed and misgendered him for a couple of years, had died very suddenly the day before and he had been conflicted. Max, who really was not able to help deal with family conflict, had been able to sit and listen and help him to realize that what was happening was something she was familiar with. He had been overwhelmed, unable to process from the sheer amount of shit being thrown at him. Max had taken over Chloe's role in prep and shoved the woman at Andy, because if there was anyone Max knew who had experience with being conflicted about their family, it was her. Chloe had been the one to really help the kid, but stilll, in being able to help him calm down, Max had learned a thing or two. She had been working for Mrs. Chase in the Chase Space gallery for months by that point and never once had she felt as useful or productive as she had that evening. Now, Max no longer questioned why Chloe enjoyed working with these people, and today the punk did not look extra tired. There was nothing, then, to stop them from talking to her parents.

When should we do it?

Chloe

Dnt no, not while movie's playing. Ur mom's loving it.

I think I'd like it too, but I'm kinda distracted.

Chloe

Obv, theres a pretty lady beside you.

Gorgeous, more like. But she's always texting when I look over.

Max normally would have been eating the film up. This evening, though, had been a little tense for her ever since dinner. Considering that her parents typically preferred preparing dinner—in part, she suspected, because they had not yet learned to trust that she could cook worth a damn, but come on, who could screw up spaghetti—they had met her having dinner ready with equal parts suspicion and skepticism. Inevitably, a couple of bites into the meal, her father had asked if there was something which they needed to know and her mother had asked her who was dying. Max had shrugged this last off. Her parents could occasionally be tone deaf to serious situations but that came down for the most part to them not having an idea just how serious things were. And besides, whose fault is that? It was not her mother or father's faults that they did not typically know what went on in Max's or Chloe's head.

She had just been nervous since then, the kind of knot-in-stomach nerves which had required her to choke down a meal she and Chloe had prepared themselves. There had been nothing wrong with it, but lying to her parents could be an effective appetite killer in and of itself, adding the thought of more lying on top of it, or the idea of seeing Arcadia Bay again when Chloe was so obviously disturbed by it and Max had had to really try to eat. She glanced sideways at Chloe, who was again glancing down at the phone in her lap as if trying to surreptitiously answer her.

Chloe

Then stop distracting her. We could just call in sick on Friday. Only real option.

Are you going to be able to get out of class? It should work for me, btw. Alaina will be pissed, but she wouldn't want me throwing up in the office.

Chloe

If I miss class it'll sell the sickness better. Will be OK. Restaurant desperate for workers. Probably can't do it again a while tho and homework is still pretty easy rn.

This should work.

Privately, Max thought she would have to keep working with Chloe to get her onboard with it fully. Tonight might help, Max thought, lowering her phone back into her lap and turning back to the television. Not the part where I'm 'hers', I mean, but we could listen to an episode or two of the show together like she wanted. She figured that might put Chloe's mind at ease and hers wasn't the only one needing put at ease. Over the next few minutes, the number of looks her mother and father both shot toward Max or Chloe increased fairly dramatically. Max typically responded to them with a small smile or trying to pretend to be caught up in the film, but Chloe was a little less slick: she would try to immediately look away, or look down at her phone as if to avoid confronting them. Inevitably, though, the movie was paused as her mother rose from her seat, knocked dark hair back from her forehead and declared that she needed the bathroom.

"I'm gonna go grab a coke," Chloe added as the woman took off. "Want one, babe?" Max had to admit that she had been relieved when Chloe returned to her silly pet names. There had been a good month long period after Max was allowed to move in with her parents and her lover where Chloe had simply called her 'Max', over and over again. It wasn't that it sounded bad or carried any negative connotations when Chloe used her first name, it was just that it reminded Max more of the start of their relationship and she had not been particularly fond of the idea that they had rewound on that. Max nodded and was about to thank her for the offer when Chloe turned toward her father, "Can I get you a beer, Ryan?" The sound of Max's palm slapping against her own forehead rang clear across the silent living room. Max moved her hand to see her father folding his own in his lap, fixing a disbelieving look on Max, as if ashamed of her for being unable to keep whatever secret she had been trying to keep and then the man turned his head toward Chloe.

"Do you think I'm going to need a beer for whatever you two are going to tell us?" Max found it interesting how the two of them grinned at each other, like the cat and mouse laughing because the cat caught onto the mouse's game. The two of them are really cut from the same cloth. For a moment, Max entertained the horrible notion that you truly fell in love with someone just like your parents. To combat that, she laid out the biggest differences between Chloe and her mother and father. She wanted to start with the whole smoking weed thing, but she wasn't stupid. She remembered the smell from her childhood, from nights when her parents and Chloe's sat out in the garage working on the Price family's car or long cookouts behind her place. Okay, but neither of them are particularly artistic and they definitely don't go around tagging things. They were definitely good with cars like Chloe, though, especially her mother. In a different world, Max had this idea of the three of them running some sort of mechanic shop together. Then again, her parents had pretty stable jobs which they were comfortable with, now.

When her mother came back in, Max saw the slight quirk of her eyebrows as Chloe set a beer in her father's outstretched hand and one in front of the spot where her mother had just been setting. Max, trying not to match either of her parents' eyes, took the coke Chloe offered her and then, without attempting to disguise it, tugged on the arm of Chloe's shirt until she sat down beside Max and stopped making her want to panic. Slowly, her mother sat down, turned a curious gaze on Chloe and her father and then waited for an explanation.

"Chloe thought we needed them," her father explained before taking a drink of his.

"I see," her mother responded, before popping the tab on her own can and tilting it back. Chloe laughed beside Max, but try as she might to fool them she could not convince Max it was a humorous laugh. The woman was nervous. Really, on this front, Chloe might have had the better measure of things. Max wasn't sure if her parents were going to be particularly friendly with the idea of them going anywhere. Still, Max patted Chloe on the knee as the woman sat forward, a little anxiously and opened her own coke. Max knew he mother could be a bit brusque at times, to the point and even a little more intimidating than say, her father was capable of. She also knew that the both of them loved the hell out of Chloe, so Max thought her anxiety a bit on the extreme side. It was, however, starting to spread back to that knot in Max's stomach and make that bigger, so she opened her own drink and took a sip as her mother looked expectantly at both she and Chloe. "Is there something we need to know?" At this, her father stroked his thick beard once and then leaned forward.

"Well, I don't see any rings so it's not a surprise engagement and they didn't elope while we were gone today – wait." The man's eyes widened. "Oh god, Max, you didn't get her pregnant did you?" Max snorted into the can at her lips. Chloe's response was to elbow her in the ribs. Right, right, this was my idea and they're my parents so, I get to tell them. Asshole.

"I want to talk to you guys," she led in, leaning forward herself and cupping the can between her hands. Apparently her tone came off as less serious and more alarmed because Chloe snaked one hand around behind Max and began to rub her back and her parents eached stopped either drinking or looking jokingly at the two of them to wait in silence. She had not intended to sound as nervous as she was. Her father was kind and liked to be laid back but he had been seriously, almost heinously overprotective of the two of them since Arcadia Bay and had started doting on her since they came back to Seattle. It was possible that he was about to flat out try to stop her from going. Her mother was harder to read. She was as likely to suggest that this was a bad time to go due to Max still being early into her job at the Chase Space as she was to say it was a great idea.

She might ask a ton of questions, too, and poke holes in my shitty cover story. The cover story I haven't come up with. Oh, fuck. Then again, she was also likely to shrug and tell them to have fun. Max knew her parents and the best way to predict their reactions would be to get in their head on a topic but she just had not been able to do that lately. She did not know, for instance, what they thought of her mental state, if they suspected she was still 'fragile.' This had been a concern of hers for some time. Good a time as any to find out, Max told herself. Besides, if things went truly, truly badly, Max had an ace up her sleeve.

A lot could hinge on this, Max thought. It was true. If her parents didn't approve and they went anyway – and they would be going anyway – it might put a strain on their relationship. She wasn't worried that it would result in them kicking her and Chloe out, but there would certainly be tension, maybe arguments. Max could only remember arguing with her parents a few times. Once, about moving away from Arcadia Bay and again about whether she was ready to be 'on her own' after the storm. These two stood out to Max in that they both had been pretty troubling times in her life. She hoped that there would not be another argument today, one that might mark a new time of trouble coming.

"I know we've just gotten kind of stable, but it's been a long time – or we've been through a lot, I guess, since we've been stable and alone and had time to really think." Max looked back and forth between her father's brown eyes and her mother's blue. They probably had an inkling about what she was about to say, but were biding their time before answering or, it seemed, making any kind of judgment calls. "There's a bed and breakfast down south a ways that I really want to go to and I think we've got enough between us for two or three nights. This feels like good timing too." She was not entirely sure what the look her parents shared between them meant, or the slight quirk of her mother's lips and her father's frown meant. "I mean, we can go down there, come back in a good headspace before Christmas and be able to push through the start of the year, which is probably gonna be a little messy." In order to sell the idea that this was a simple vacation and so Chloe was entirely on board with it, Max reached over and took the woman's right hand in her own; Chloe's left continued to rub at her back supportively.

"The trip shouldn't be bad at all," Chloe said, surprising Max a bit in the girl's initiative. "Bit of rain maybe, but nothing big." Another pause came after this, in which her parents shared a longer, harder look with one another and then turned their eyes back on Max. Her mother cleared her throat but did not seem to know what to say as of yet. Max wondered what they would think of Nic showing up at their house and asking questions. I've never seen dad threaten someone before, but he did almost punch out that one guy who wouldn't stop knocking back after we first got away from Arcadia Bay.

"Will there at least be pictures of wherever you're staying? It sounds nice." The question her mother shot at Max was innocent enough on the surface, but the look on Vanessa Caulfield's face was less 'I hope you enjoy it' and more 'can you prove you're going where you say you are'. Max's first instinct was to say 'no' and come up with some excuse about not feeling into photography right now, so that she didn't have to come up with photos that had not been clearly taken within the remains of Arcadia Bay. She did not, because she knew the lie would have sounded hollow. Chloe continued to rub her back, more softly than before but somehow more comfortingly, too.

"Maybe," Max told her. "I-I don't see why not." Now that was a lie. She damn sure knew why not. They weren't going to some bed and breakfast, but probably some shitty little motel in Edgeton or Bruss, somewhere near the remains of Arcadia Bay. At highway speeds either town was a reasonable distance from Arcadia Bay. There was a moment where Max thought that her lie had been accepted or at least shrugged off until her mother sighed and ran one hand down her face. Busted.

"Max, Chloe," her mother started, as if about to deliver some bad news. She thinks it's a bad idea. She knows we're lying and thinks we shouldn't go. "I'll have to insist you let us rent you a car." Beside Max, Chloe looked scandalized.

"The truck just needs some fluids and a spark plug. Max and I can go out and get them in the morning. It'll be running just fine for Friday!" Max watched the bemused look pass between her parents and tried not to blame Chloe for the defensive tone in her voice. Whether it was because she thought they were casting aspersions on 'her baby' or because she felt guilty about accepting anything that cost money from Max's parents, Chloe was being a little silly. Then again, Max felt some loyalty toward the truck too. It had gotten them from Arcadia Bay to Seattle, Seattle to LA and even gotten Chloe back to Seattle again. She squeezed her hand around Chloe's to try to calm her. It wasn't just loyalty to the truck. Part of Max shared the guilt Chloe felt in living there when they could barely afford to contribute enough to make it worth it. Seattle was somewhat expensive and they were both going through rather a lot at the moment.

"Coastal Oregon is awfully south," her father mused as he scratched at his beard, putting a little extra emphasis on 'south' as if to say that Max's nondescript 'a ways south' was not fooling anyone. "Well, I'd feel better if I knew you had a ride that-" the man paused and Max saw him almost look toward Chloe, before he swallowed and said, "a ride that can be replaced quickly by a rental company if it breaks down." Max knew they knew. It was clear on their faces, hell, to make matters worse, they knew she knew and were still trying to keep the peace. She didn't like lying to her parents, but part of her had been concerned that they would not think she could be trusted to go on that trip and not break again. She did not think she could take going back to her mother and father all but coddling her. The worst part about it all had been that Chloe had participated in a about a month's worth of that coddling.

Things are different now, Max reflected as she squeezed Chloe's hand and formulated how to respond. Chloe was softer with her in general, though sometimes they could be, if not rougher, more emphatic in other, more carnal situations. Adding in Max's worries about Chloe's apparent abilities and she probably was as concerned for Chloe as Chloe was for her, now. For a long time Max had tried to figure out how Chloe's abilities might have come about, the same way she had been doing her own, but Chloe had confessed, one night not too long after Max came home from the hospital, that she suspected they had been there for years, coming first in the form of really potent dreams. They were now looking into whether lucid dreaming might be something that could help Chloe, but to Max that sounded like a total pain in the ass.

"Well?" Vanessa prompted them. Chloe didn't speak, but she did squeeze Max's hand back.

"Thanks," Max replied, trying to smile at her father as if she was just accepting the generous offer and her mind was not going a million miles a minute. Max also tried to ignore the very brief, near-pout that appeared on Chloe's face. Her parents would not hold it against the woman, she loved her truck and so did Max. So much could hinge on this, she thought as her parents began to talk with Chloe about how long they would need a car. Max barely managed to reply that they might need it as late as Tuesday and fend off the concerned looks from all three people in the room. She did not know how long this would take, she just wanted to be safe. If Nic goes public with all of this, there's gonna be consequences. If he doesn't believe us, it's a wasted trip for him, but he might also put out there that we're fucking nuts and bring trouble down on us too. If he or his friend are actually dangerous and Chloe has to use that gun... shit, I don't even want to think about it. Good thing you're a fucking time traveler.

"I'll just be a second." Good thing, indeed. Delaying the others in resuming the movie, Max rose to her feet. It didn't take her long to leave the room and come back with her hands behind her back, to order Chloe to move over to the couch as she brandished William's old camera. She told her parents that she just wanted a photo of her family all together as Chloe settled in between the two of them and tossed an arm around eithers' shoulder, but in the photo William's old camera spat out, Chloe wore a knowing grin. It was a tender grin, but an aware one. She knew damn well that Max had just set a point for rewinding to should something go horribly wrong. It was, though, a photo she also intended to value for the image itself. She had not taken a photo of the three of them together since she and Chloe had been children and now the sight held a little more value, a little more meaning: these were the only important people in her life who still drew breath, people who she would never let something happen to.

That evening, long after Max had finished her shower, after she and Chloe had sat and listened to a couple episodes of the podcast, Tanis, she was dragged to their room and to bed. Max reflected briefly on the differences between her room now and the last time it was truly her room. It went beyond the fact that she was sleeping in a wider bed beside her girlfriend, beyond the fact that her underwear drawer hid weed and a gun or that Chloe's hid a toy that was very much for adults only (and some spare papers). It was more about the fact that the room seemed both smaller and more like home than it ever had done when she was younger. Maybe that was because when she was a teenager she had been missing Chloe and Arcadia Bay all along without realizing just how much. A few moments later, there was no time for reflection. There were only sheets and pillows, and Chloe. She was ready to get lost in all three of those for the night because there was plenty of time coming to reflect on the past: she did not have to be a time traveler to know that Nic Silver was going to accept her offer and that at least the three of them were going to go to Arcadia Bay.