October 12, 2013, 8:34 a.m.

Max opened her eyes and looked around her groggily, trying to get adjusted to the light beaming through the half-closed shades. It took her a few moments to remember where she was. This was the first time she had ever been in Taylor Christensen's room. It was located at the other wing of the dormitory building on the girls' floor. The room layout followed the same pattern as the rooms in the wing where Max's room used to be. Taylor's room was furnished and decorated pretty much like a typical teenaged girl's room, with posters, pillows and makeups, among other things. Max could see that Taylor had tried to Mimic Victoria's style to some extent, which was no surprise, considering the dynamic the two had had in their friendship. I wonder if that's going to change now with the new and improved Victoria?

Max was still amazed by how fiercely the pixie-haired girl had defended her honor. It wasn't at all like Victoria to drop her controlled demeanor and act upon pure emotions. That kind of behavior was what Max would expect from Chloe rather than Victoria. Why would she expose herself like that, unless… The realization shook the last bits of grogginess off of her. Wowser! She rose to a sitting position and pulled her knees against her chest, wrapping her arms around them. Victoria Chase has the hots for me! Max thought, before she shook her head. No, not me, the other me!

It did make sense in retrospect, though, as Max has read from her counterpart's diary that the girls had been inseparable during the last summer. Yet none of the entries had indicated that Victoria might have been romantically interested in Max, or that her counterpart in this time might have developed such feelings. The latter didn't surprise the hipster, though, as she herself had not begun to develop romantic feelings towards anyone, until Chloe had dared Max to kiss her.

So, what am I supposed to do with this knowledge? the brunette asked herself. She'd begun to appreciate the new Victoria but her heart belonged to someone else. Besides, she didn't know how her counterpart felt about the blonde. Does she even exist anymore? Is she stuck somewhere in the corner of my mind, trying to get out? Max thought about her spontaneous response to Victoria's sass yesterday. Ugh! This is too deep shit to think about this early in the morning! the freckled girl thought, pinching her eyes. Brain, I want nicer thoughts!

Max's request was granted as memories of yesterday's tea time with Kate and last night's slumber party filled her mind. Max and Victoria had had a nice and relaxing moment getting to know Kate over tea and biscuits. Max of course already knew most of what Kate had told about herself but that didn't prevent her from enjoying the bun-haired girl's company. Kate had extended her courtesy by taking Max from door to door and introducing her to the other girls on her floor. Victoria had opted out on the introductory round because she already knew most of the girls on the floor and because she felt that her past would make most of the reunions awkward at best.

The introductions had not been any less awkward for Max, as she too already knew all the girls from the floor, but she was forced to pretend that she was meeting them for the first time. Nevertheless, it had been good to talk to Alyssa and Dana again, and even Brooke had seemed to be less reserved towards the brunette. Probably because Warren hasn't been fawning over me from the beginning of the semester.

Max had also taken the opportunity to peek into her 'old' dorm room. To her surprise, though, she had found the room to be vacant. Kate had told her that the room had been vacant since last spring, when the previous tenant, a girl named Tara Garcia, had moved out after her graduation. Kate had never met her personally as she had not arrived at Blackwell until the beginning of the semester. Pretty soon after, rumors had begun to circulate that the room was haunted. Apparently one of the girls had been wandering in the hallway in the middle of the night and seen a flash of light from the gap between the threshold and the door, like someone had been taking a photo inside. When she had opened the door to investigate there had been no one there.

When Max had stepped into the empty room she had felt a chill run down her spine. Only the worn furniture had reminded her of what used to be her favorite cocoon. The collage of Polaroid pictures that had occupied the wall beside the bed was but a memory, and only a faded plaster wall remained. When Max had slid her hand across the dusty desktop she had thought of the strange event that had occurred. Had it simply been a sporadic flash of lightning? Or could it have been something else…?

Kate had later joined them in Taylor's room to enjoy pizza, popcorn and other varieties of junk food while watching The Breakfast Club on Netflix. Max could actually see some resemblance between the characters of the movie and the people she knew from Arcadia Bay. Claire Standish was like Victoria with her posh appearance and feeling the constant pressure to keep up a front. Andrew Clark was like an amalgamation of one of the Blackwell jocks like Zach, and Nathan with a problematic father relationship. In John Bender she saw none other than Chloe with her rebellious nature and disrespect for authorities. Brian Johnson was much like Warren, although Max didn't really know if his parents were pressuring him to get top grades. Allison Reynolds in many ways reminded Max of herself with being an introverted outcast, although Max liked to think her eating habits were more civilized.

Max reached for her bag and dug out a bunch of Polaroids that she had taken last evening. A smile rose on the freckled girl's face as she shuffled through the photos, consisting mostly of group selfies taken on a whim. Among those there were a few shots that Max had taken with more thought and composition. One was of Kate sitting next to Taylor. Both looked concentrated on the movie, but there was a detail that Max had hoped to catch. It was the expression of joy on Kate's face. Her eyes were bright and shining rather than glazed and foggy as they had been before her suicide attempt in the previous timeline. I'm so glad you didn't have to go through that hell, Kate.

Max continued shuffling through the photos, until she came across one that she had taken of Victoria. Max had meant it to be a ¾ portrait where the model looks away from the camera, but the blonde had caught the brunette's attempt and focused her eyes on the lens, accompanied with a subtle grin. There was something about that grin that had Max wondering whether Victoria was trying to imply something or not. The ever so subtle lifting of the eyebrow and the corner of the mouth could easily be interpreted as a good-natured smirk of victory, but Max couldn't help thinking that there was more to it than that.

"Stuck in the retro zone again, sad face?" The brunette flinched when she heard the sassy tone of the subject of her thoughts. The cheerful expression on Victoria's face revealed the playfulness of the sass, though.

"Quit yapping, digi ho!" Max shot back before her brain caught up. She gasped, covering her mouth aghast. Did I just call Victoria a ho? Luckily, the blonde just grinned back. So Victoria and my counterpart are on a playful mocking basis. The hipster girl lowered her hand and smiled sheepishly. Deep inside, she was in shock. What is happening to me? Is the other Max trying to reclaim her body, or are our minds merging together?

"Seriously, Max," Victoria pulled the brunette away from her thoughts. "If you take such amazing pictures with that old Polaroid, think what you could achieve with a proper digital single-lens reflex camera – or at least an SLR if you absolutely insist sticking to analog."

"Yeah, a proper SLR would certainly give more options regarding the composition," Max admitted as she fiddled her Polaroid JobPro in her hands. "And Polaroid film isn't exactly cheap either. My dad keeps telling me that I could get a decent digital camera with the amount of money I spend on Polaroid film in a year. Still, I like the look and feel of an instant film picture, and the challenge that breaking the boundaries of the instant camera poses."

"Hmph, whatever rocks your boat, Caulfield," the pixie-haired girl said, rolling her eyes. "But I have more pressing matters." She brought the magazine that she was holding in her hand in front of her. "I found Rachel!"

"You found her!" the brunette exclaimed joyfully as she stared at the face of the hazel-eyed blonde on the magazine page.

"Taylor had the latest issue of La Vida lying around," Victoria explained, waving the magazine in her hand. "I bumped into the ad when I was paging it."

"But how is her face on a magazine ad going to help us locate her?"

"Cindy, the assistant at the Chase Space, happens to know the editor's assistant at La Vida," the blonde continued. "As you probably know, assistants run the world. I can call Cindy. She'll dig out that address in no time."

Max watched sanguinely as Victoria picked up the phone and began calling the assistant. She seemed to have no issues calling the employee of her parents on a Saturday morning. On the other hand, people usually knew what they signed up for when they became someone's personal assistant. This is awesome! If Victoria can get Rachel's address, we'll be one step closer to finding her, and Chloe.

-ooo-

"Thank you, it was so kind of you to call me personally. Your help is greatly appreciated," Mark Jefferson said into the phone. "Yes, let's have lunch sometime. I'll call you. Bye!"

Idiot! Mark thought as he hung up. Instead of simply mailing him Rachel's address, Alex Woodward had called him and spent half an hour talking about photography with him. He couldn't care less for Woodward's upcoming exhibition. Even some of my former students could take better pictures than that social climber. This'll teach me not to use my standard signature with full contact info. Nevertheless, Mark had got what he wanted: Rachel Amber's address.

Lincoln Heights. Not exactly where I expected her to be, Jefferson thought, slightly surprised. Considering Rachel's outstanding performance at Blackwell, and her ambition to study law, he'd assumed that she would be living in Westwood, close to UCLA. On the other hand, of all of his female students at Blackwell, Rachel Amber was the one he couldn't get a grasp of, neither metaphorically nor literally. She was the one that Mark had not been able to capture in a moment of desperation, like he had done to many of her classmates.

Ending up in a menial teaching job at a small town school at the decline of your career might have seemed anything but appealing to a renowned photographer, but Mark had seen it as the perfect opportunity to pursue the thing that had begun to captivate him at the peak of his career. By then he was already focused on sexual themes, but at some point he had realized that even the most explicit scenes were eventually just an act. Whatever the models tried to express were merely mimicking, rather than reflecting their true emotions. Mark's desire to capture the true innocence and desperation had led him to do research on methods that were ethically condemnable, not to mention illegal.

Mark's goal was to get his subjects into a disoriented and incapacitated state while maintaining some degree of situational awareness, so that he could capture true emotions of despair. After some digging he'd found out that GHB, also known as the date-rape drug, was just what he was looking for. With correct administration, the subjects would be docile enough to be handled easily while being to a limited extent aware of what's happening. The best part was that upon recovery, the subject would have impaired ability to recall the memories of the events that occurred during the period of intoxication.

Acquiring drugs in a Seattle-sized city had been easy enough, and the Seattle nightlife had been full of potential subjects that could easily be abducted, but the logistics for the shooting had proven to be an issue. Using his own apartment or renting some space had obviously been out of the question. What Mark needed was an abandoned property at an isolated location, which in a densely populated area like Seattle meant traveling excessive amount of time. For a while he had been using an abandoned warehouse that was almost two hours' drive inland, but that had turned out to be cumbersome. Also there had been the constant chance of being pulled over. While the risk of an actual search being performed on his car might have been minimal, Mark hated leaving things to a chance. After a while he had deemed the gains not worth the risk and stopped using the warehouse.

Alexander Graham Bell once said: "When one door closes, another one opens." As much as Mark liked to use quotes he had never given much thought to this particular quote until the day when he'd been returning from the warehouse for the last time with the last of his equipment. His phone had rung in the middle of unpacking the car. The photographer was very strict about though whom he gave his personal number, therefore he had been surprised to see an unknown number on the display. He usually ignored such random calls, but this time he had chosen to take it. And with that, the other door had opened.

The mysterious caller had been Sean Prescott. The patriarch of the most influential family in Arcadia Bay was no stranger to Mark, as their paths had crossed in the past. It had been when Mark had graduated from Blackwell as the Valedictorian of his class. Sean Prescott had just begun to take over the family businesses and duties formerly ran by his father, including the seat on the Blackwell Board, to which he was entitled by the Prescott family being a major benefactor to the school. Therefore it had been no surprise that Sean had been one of the people to congratulate the graduate that would eventually become Blackwell's most renowned alumnus.

Still, Mark had not been expecting a direct call from Sean, much less the offer that the patriarch had made: a photography class teaching position at Blackwell, with free rein to design and implement the class. While the job offer itself had not felt very appealing it did open up new opportunities for him to pursue his obsession. A high school environment offered a multitude of potential subjects, and finding a remote location within a short distance proved a lot easier in a small town like Arcadia Bay than in Seattle. When Mark had called Sean back to accept the offer he had not realized that there would be a few additional perks to relocating.

When the newly appointed photography teacher had arrived at Blackwell, it had turned out that Sean Prescott had a son, Nathan, who had become estranged from his father. Nathan Prescott had been a disturbed and unstable individual, whose exploits the staff of Blackwell and the local law enforcement of Arcadia Bay had been willing to overlook because Sean Prescott was pumping so much money into both institutions. That premise, in addition to Nathan's access to the Prescott family wealth and his connections, was something Mark could use to his advantage.

Making contact with the troubled teenager had actually been quite easy. Initially, Nathan had been suspicious of Mark, but pretty soon he had begun to open up to the new teacher. Nathan had simply needed someone who would listen to him, someone to give him purpose and direction. The young man had been like wax that Mark could mold to his desire. Nathan had also shown a natural talent for photography. He had not been in Mark's class, but that had not mattered. The regular curriculum had not been what he had in store for his apprentice.

Mark had been almost surprised how easily he could manipulate Nathan to support his vision, so desperate had been the young man's desire for a father figure. Nathan had told that his family had an old barn under which there was an old bomb shelter that could be easily converted into a studio. The location had been perfect. It was isolated but still close to the town. Mark had been slightly doubtful whether Nathan would be able to get the money to equip the studio from his father, but to his surprise, Sean had asked the photography teacher to help his son in the task. Apparently Sean would not mind the expenses as long as his son had something to focus on. That had been the extent of Sean's interest in the matter.

The studio had been equipped, and the plan had been set in motion. Nathan had acquired the subjects and delivered them to Mark who was left with the photographing and keeping the subjects sedated. In a relatively short time, Mark had acquired quite a collection. There had been one subject, though, that had eluded his viewfinder so far. She was Rachel Amber.

Rachel wasn't like the other girls in her class. She seemed to carry this mystic aura about her. She was ambitious and generally liked, and she seemed to adapt easily to her surroundings, like a chameleon. That was what had raised Mark's interest in her. On the surface, the blonde had not appeared as an ideal subject for his personal project but he was curious of what would be revealed from beneath. He'd never got a chance to find that out, though.

At first, Rachel had not been on Mark's radar even though he was fascinated by her. He'd just found some of her classmates more ideal candidates for his project. When his curiosity finally had got the best of him and he was beginning to make preparations for a session, Rachel had come to him.

At first, it had been seemingly innocent; like tutoring and advice. Already then, Mark had noticed how mature and confident Rachel had acted for her age. Maybe it had been for that that he had found himself in the same bed with her one night. Even in that area, Rachel had exhibited remarkable maturity and confidence for her age, clearly showing that she by no means was a virgin. At this point, it had also became clear to Mark that Rachel had her own angle in their relationship, if one could even call sleeping together a relationship. Rachel had expressed her wish that Mark would've given her future modeling career a boost by making her a portfolio.

The unexpected suggestion had not really surprised Mark. He'd already come to the conclusion that Rachel Amber was an opportunist that was willing to do anything that would further her endeavors. On the other hand, it had been too good an opportunity to be left unused. While pretending to consider the girl's suggestion Mark had quickly devised a plan in his head. He would arrange a session at his home studio for the portfolio, offer Rachel a drink after the shoot to drug her and take her to the barn for another session. Afterwards, Rachel would regain consciousness in his bedroom and he'd simply explain that the night got a bit wild. Rachel would be none the wiser and both would get what they wanted. Satisfied with the plan, Mark had agreed to make the blonde a portfolio.

They had agreed on a date at the end of April and Mark had begun to make the necessary preparations. Then, just days after their agreement, Mark had got a message from the dark room security system into his phone. The dark room blast door had been equipped with a code lock to prevent trespassers from entering. The lock had been connected to a surveillance camera that would send the camera feed into Mark's phone if anyone tried to tamper the lock or input a wrong code. Mark had not been able to hide his surprise when he had seen David Madsen, the head of Blackwell security entering the dark room. From the security log, Mark had been able to see that Madsen was using Nathan's code, which the teacher, unbeknownst to his protégé, had also been set to alert Mark in case Nathan would enter the premises by himself.

Luckily, Mark had been prepared for such a possibility from the beginning. He'd planned an exit strategy in case the dark room was ever compromised. From the beginning of their joint venture with Nathan, Mark had made sure that nothing could be traced back to him. All the equipment was in Nathan's name, and the property of course belonged to the Prescotts. The surveillance camera wasn't recording, except for the short buffer, if someone tried to break into the premises. The captured video was sent to a burner phone that was untraceable, and the SIM card on the camera was pre-paid too. Mark had made sure to wear vinyl gloves all the time when he was in the premises; something that Nathan had neglected to do, and Mark had made sure not to point out to him.

Using the burner phone, Mark had immediately contacted Nathan and told that the bunker had been compromised. He'd asked his protégé to meet him at the rendezvous point, on a road that was in close proximity to the barn. Their plan was to circle back to the barn by foot to assess the situation; or at least, that was what he had told Nathan. In reality, he'd been waiting for the young man with a lethal dose of the drug that they had been using. When Nathan had arrived, they'd set out through the woods towards the barn. Mark had made sure to stay behind the teenager the whole time. When they had reached the barn, Mark had dug out the syringe and emptied it into his unsuspecting accomplice. Nathan had turned to face his mentor with an amazed expression before losing consciousness.

Mark had approached the barn carefully. There had been no vehicle outside the building, but Madsen could've left his car further down the road. Alas, it had turned out that the security officer had left the barn, probably to contact the officials. Since Sean had the ABPD firmly under his control, Mark had reasoned Madsen would go to the State Troopers office in Bay City. That had given the photographer a little more time to do what he needed. He'd swiftly carried Nathan's already lifeless body down into the bunker and placed him on the couch. He'd logged onto the laptop and taken backups of all the pictures on a flash drive. While waiting the copy to complete, he'd printed out a suicide letter that he'd had ready on the laptop for a situation like this. He'd quickly forged Nathan's signature on the printed letter and placed it on the table, next to a vial and an empty syringe which he had first stung the dead boy's arm with, using Nathan's hands to get his fingerprints on it.

Once satisfied, Mark had made sure there were no traces of him on the premises and left the barn. He had quickly run through the woods to their vehicles, taken Nathan's truck and driven that to the barn. After that, he'd taken another hike through the woods to his Bentley and driven home to be ready for the phone call that would come sooner or later.

About two hours later the phone had rung. Mark had expected it to be either Sean or Wells. It had turned out to be the former. True to his nature, the Prescott patriarch had informed him stoically of Nathan's demise. The teacher had pretended to be shocked about the news and expressed his deepest condolences. Nothing in the conversation had seemed to indicate that Sean was suspecting foul play.

On the following days, investigations and hearings had ensued. Mark had played the devastated mentor, who had been completely oblivious about what Nathan had been doing. He had told with watery eyes, how he had failed Nathan as a mentor and confidant. Mark had even gone so far as to say that he blamed himself for Nathan's death. No one had shared his opinion. Not even when he had handed in his resignation as the photography teacher and announced his intention to leave Arcadia Bay. Everyone had just been sad to see him leave.

Mark had done it. He'd gotten away with multiple abductions and a cold-blooded murder. Still, because of the abductions now out in the open, he'd thought it best not to return to Seattle. He'd relocated to Los Angeles and thought to lay low for a while, which he had until he'd seen Rachel's picture in the magazine.

Mark closed his laptop and poured himself some coffee. This was too good of an opportunity for him to pass up. Rachel would be Mark's encore. He was sure that behind all the blonde's faces there was an innocent girl that he wanted to capture. Of course he'd have to kill her after the shooting. It was unfortunate, but Mark couldn't afford to take any chances, now that Nathan was exposed. Rachel Amber would simply be another small town girl that went to LA to find her fortune and got lost into the big city's temptations.

-ooo-

"I got it!" Victoria exclaimed triumphantly as she ended the phone call.

"You got Rachel's address?" Max asked enthusiastically. "Where is she?"

"Lincoln Heights, Los Angeles," the blonde answered. "Cindy will text me the exact address in a moment."

A hopeful expression rose on the brunette's freckled face. Finally, they'd found a clue that would take them forward in their quest. So they actually made it to California like they had planned, she thought joyfully. I wonder how their relationship is now? Has Rachel told Chloe about Frank? In Max's own timeline, Chloe hadn't been aware of the relationship until they had found the photos of Rachel and Frank together inside Frank's RV. The punk had taken the revelation hard. The gleeful expression was washed away from Max's face when she thought about Rachel's break-up letter to Chloe that was inside the girls' hideout at the American Rust. You'd better treat Chloe the way she deserves, or you're gonna answer to me, Rachel!

Victoria's phone chimed as a sign of a newly arrived message. "Ok, here it is," she said, looking at the screen. "I'll forward it to you." The blonde made a few taps, and few moments later Max's phone buzzed.

"Thank you, Vic," the freckled girl said, taking her own phone out.

"What are friends for?" the pixie-haired girl said back. "So you gonna call her?"

"No," Max answered, looking at the address on her screen. "I think we should start packing. We have a long drive ahead of us."

"What?" Victoria huffed incredulously. "Are you seriously going to drive all the way to LA? You've gone out of your mind, Caulfield!"

"This really is something I have to do face to face," the hipster said determinedly. "I'll gladly buy you a return ticket on the Greyhound back home, if you don't want to come with me."

The blonde looked at Max sternly for a few moments before she sighed in defeat. "Fine! We'll do it your way!" she groaned. "One thing, though… What are you going to tell your parents?" Victoria asked, looking Max straight in the eyes. "Somehow I doubt they will not approve your plans to extend our trip to LA. You know they're expecting us back by tomorrow afternoon."

The brunette smiled at her traveling companion. "Actually, I had anticipated that our trip might be extended, so I thought of something just in case…"

-ooo-

"…that's right, Dad, it just seized all of a sudden, and a bunch of warning lights lit on the dash." Victoria watched Max explain on the phone.

"…I called the Triple-A like you've told me and they towed the Mini to a repair shop," the brunette continued. "They told me that they can take a look at it earliest on Monday, so we'll have to wait at least until then."

The blonde couldn't help but smile at Max's ability to come up with a perfectly plausible story to buy them a couple of extra days. The truth would come out eventually, and they, especially Max, would have to face the consequences. She began to wonder whether there was more to Max's relationship with Chloe than the brunette was letting her on, but she quickly brushed the thought away. They haven't been in touch for five years!

Whatever the reason, the unexpected extension of their trip opened up new possibilities for Victoria to pursue her own goals. They'd already agreed that they would drive the coastal highway south and stay overnight in Bodega Bay. Max had suggested getting an Airbnb, but Victoria had something else in mind. She opened up the TripAdvisor web page on her phone and began to look for four star hotels in Bodega Bay.

"…and leave my car here?" Victoria heard Max ask incredulously. Apparently her parents were suggesting the Greyhound option. "Look, with luck we can get the car fixed on Monday. We haven't got it very busy at the school yet, so we can wait until Monday what the repair guy has to say. If it's gonna take an excessive amount of time, we'll take the Greyhound, okay?"

Max stayed quiet for the moment, so Victoria assumed Vanessa and Ryan were having a negotiation at their end. In the meantime, she had found a nice room with a queen-sized bed at the Bodega Bay Lodge. With a few taps she made the reservation and confirmed it with her credit card. Luckily, her parents were quite relaxed about her credit card usage, as long as she didn't exceed her limit. Perfect! Victoria thought to herself and let out a barely noticeable grin of mischief. Max Caulfield, you have no idea what I have in store for you.

"…ok," Max said into the phone. "I'll call you first thing, once I get the repair estimate. …yes, I'll give Joyce and Chloe your regards when I see them. ...tell Mom I love her. …love you too, Dad. Talk to you on Monday!" She ended the call and sighed out of relief. "Jeez! For a moment I thought they'd make us to take the Greyhound tomorrow."

"So, we got till Monday?" Victoria asked.

"Yeah, I have to call them before the last Greyhound of the day leaves to Portland," the brunette explained.

"We should be in LA well before that," the blonde remarked.

"Tomorrow afternoon, if we leave early. We will have at least the night and afternoon to find Chloe and Rachel," Max thought out loud. "And I figured I'd probably get at least a day or two more, if I explain that it's an easy fix."

"You do realize that your folks will find out eventually?" Victoria remarked.

"Yes, I do realize that and I'll deal with it when the time comes," the hipster said. "I totally understand if you don't want to get into trouble over me."

"Just drive, Caulfield," the pixie-haired girl said nonchalantly.

Max did as told and turned the ignition.

-ooo-

Frank watched as the blue Mini Cooper drove past him. He'd been standing by the Blackwell exit road since dawn, waiting for the girls to leave. Frank pressed the starter button and felt how the 1200 cc Evolution engine of the Harley Davidson Sportster sputtered to life. He put it into first gear and rode after the car.

Using a motorcycle for tailing someone had certain advantages over a car. The tail had better visibility due to its higher sitting position, which in turn made it possible to keep a longer distance to the one being tailed. A motorcycle was also harder to spot due to its smaller size and its ability to easily hide behind other vehicles. The only disadvantage a motorcycle had against a car was its shorter range. Stopping to buy gasoline risked losing the mark, but since Frank knew the girls' general direction, he figured he'd be able to stay on them.

Frank rode down the hill and saw the Mini further down the road. Having the higher ground enabled him to keep his distance. Once the car turned onto the main road, he'd have to catch up. It had been a while since the last time he had rode a motorcycle. The draft felt brisk against his bandana-covered face. The feeling of freedom that riding a motorcycle offered certainly was appealing. Part of him wished he could just put his dog in a sidecar and ride into the sunset. Hah! Maybe in another life.

Frank saw the little car arrive at the junction and turn south on the 101. He twisted the throttle to make it to the junction quicker. There, he made a hard left and reached the main road. Frank looked ahead and spotted the Mini a couple of hundred yards ahead of him. A couple of other cars were between them, which suited the drug dealer fine. Okay, ladies! Take me to that deceitful cunt!

-ooo-

Rachel stepped out of the convenience store with a pack of cigarettes. Taking a few steps away from the door, she removed the wrapping from the pack and discarded it. She took one cigarette and placed it between her lips before putting the pack into her bag and picking up a lighter. The blonde lit up the cigarette and took a deep drag as she put the lighter back. She let the smoke out of her lungs with a deep sigh and looked at the thin trail of smoke coming from the burning embers.

Rachel let out another sigh. After her graduation, she had actually tried to quit smoking because she realized it wasn't too good a habit considering her aspiration to be a model, not to mention her health. Pretty soon after settling in, the realities of adult life had hit her so hard that buying a pack with the groceries had happened quite easily. The fact that Chloe smoked almost constantly didn't help either. They had agreed to keep their apartment smoke-free; an agreement they'd kept until yesterday's incident.

The blonde took another drag of her cigarette and let her eyes scan the traffic aimlessly. She felt bad about the way Chloe had found out about her modeling gig. She realized the she should've told her partner about it from the get go, but she also knew that Chloe would've said no and Rachel would've had to do it behind her back anyway.

This wasn't the first time their relationship was in crisis. It had been like that when they had still lived in Arcadia Bay, and Rachel had been dealing with her own personal issues. Trying to be there for Chloe, who hadn't still recovered from the loss of her father, had felt just too overwhelming then. Rachel had walked out on her one day at the American rust with the intention of ending their friendship. She was well aware that the aspiring punk was wanting something more than just friendship, and that wasn't something Rachel was capable of offering at that moment. Eventually, they had ended up back together, and after many phases, they were now in California, trying to build a life together.

Rachel felt that their relationship was once again coming to a crossroads. It wasn't that they wanted different things in life, but how they wanted them. She felt Chloe was being all too paranoid about Frank. Seriously, if Frank wanted to really find us, he'd have done so by now, the blonde thought, blowing the smoke out of her lungs. Can't you see that the board membership would finally turn our lives around? I know you have the potential to do greater things than be a Jack of all trades at a construction site! She stubbed the cigarette and sniffed quietly. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't picture them celebrating their first Christmas together at their mutual home.

Rachel was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't notice someone walking up to her until they spoke: "Hello, Rachel."

The blonde lifted her gaze and couldn't hide her surprise when she saw Mark Jefferson standing in front of her.

To be continued...

A/N: Welcone to chapter 6 of Saving Rachel Amber! I just looked when I last updated and it has been two months. Sorry to have kept you waiting for so long. I have to admit I clearly suffered from writer's block for a while and other things have kept me busy. The news of the upcoming LiS prequel put my creative juices flowing again. Imma share a few words about that in a bit.

Anyhow, in this chapter we mostly take a peek what Jefferson has been up to. The game didn't offer much information about Jefferson and Sean Prescott's relationship, and how Jefferson expected to be able to pin the abductions and Chloe and Max's murder on Nathan. Therefore I decided to work on those two aspects, devising an exit strategy for him where all would be on Nathan and Mark would run home free.

Max is definitely going a bit rogue now. Ok, technically she is an adult and entitled to do so, but as long as you're financially dependent on your parents, it comes with certain terms. As for Vicky… I guess you'll have to wait until next chapter to find out.

Ok, a my two cents about the prequel, LiS: Before the Storm. When the first concept shots were leaked out, I was mostly skeptical about it being true, while secretly being excited about the prospect to revisit Arcadia Bay. The official announcement has caused quite a lot of controversy among the fandom, which is understandable. Still I have a bit hard time understanding how the opposers, based on a short gameplay video are vocally announcing that we don't need it, and how it will stain the original game. While there is a possibility that the prequel will not live up to its hype, I won't form an opinion of it before I've played the game. In the meantime, I'll just cherish the opportunity to revisit AB and learn more about Rachel and younger Chloe. I see a lot of comments how Rachel shouldn't be demystified. I, personally am glad of the opportunity to relate to Rachel as character.

Ok, LiS has in many ways been life-changing to a lot of people, myself included. However the prequel may turn out, I don't see it taking away from how I experienced LiS and what kind of legacy it has left for me. I acknowledge people feel very passionate about LiS and I can at some level relate to their concerns. I just wish people would be willing to give the prequel a chance before forming their opinion. I've preordered the game on day one, I am excited about it and do hope it would turn out at least decent.

Okay, back to normal schedule. Thank you again for your reviews! I've got a few ideas where to go with the story based on them. Please do keep them coming, as it is the writer's creative fuel. Also, huge thanks again for Crowthorne for beta reading for me! It's funny how blind you can yourself be to some obvious grammatical mistakes until someone points it to you. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out. My holiday is starting in two weeks and I really don't see doing any writing then. I do hope to get the next chapter out before the first episode of the prequel will be out, though.