The world came back to Max in pieces as she slowly regained consciousness. Lights. Sounds. Movement. Or lackthereof? A gripping sensation at her wrists. "Nuuuughhh, Chloe, that's too tight," she muttered softly before opening her eyes. Which turned out to be a bad idea. Searing pain coursed through her brain as her pupils adjusted their dilation. Some sort of a very bright light had been pointed directly at her face.
Wait... is this, where am I? This feels... Max struggled to move her arms and legs, grunting quietly as they refused to budge. And then reality clicked. The party. Trying to find Chloe. A prick in her neck.
"Back with us, I see?"
No. No way. Not possible. There's no way... he's... here. Squinting, Max could begin to make out larger shapes and shadows. A floodlamp, a desk, a human figure. Mark Jefferson. Oh shit. No fucking way. This is not real. This is a dream; this is some fucked up nightmare. Those happen, right? I... I got trashed at the party, blacked out. I'm in bed, safe, with Chloe, right now. She's holding me, and I'm tossing and turning. She's whispering into my ear.
But when Max felt wet, hot streaks down her cheek, she realized the time for fantasy was over. We-I walked into a trap. Nathan must've learned about Dana's party. But how? I suppose... I suppose it doesn't matter much... now...
"Oh, no, that won't do," Jefferson scolded as he wiped Max's face with tissue. She could feel her body recoiling with disgust at the contact.
"Better. Now. You and I, we have quite a lot to discuss, don't we Max?"
Max felt her gut tighten as she accepted her situation. I'm back. After everything that happened... I'm back in this fucking chair. Struggling down a desperate sob, Max opened her mouth to speak. "We don't have anything to discuss. You fucking monster."
"Au contraire, Max. You've been a busy bee these past few days. But not a very logical one." Jefferson squatted down, resting his hands on his knees, so he could face Max directly. "For example. Why the hell would you tell Nathan that you know about my studio last Monday, but do nothing about it until Friday? I always figured you were a little touched, Max, but the stupidity on display here is... startling. Unbecoming of one of my students," he finished with a frown. "Let's be honest here. If you tipped off David Madsen on Monday, our positions would be very much reversed."
Max attempted to take a calm breath to steady herself. Okay Max. You have to keep it together. Chloe knows where you are. But she doesn't have the entry code. But Nathan does, and Nathan isn't here. She could get it from Nathan! But is Nathan even still alive? Last time Jefferson told me that he had been planning to... take care... of Nathan because of how he handled Rachel. I don't see why that would have changed.
"Moreover," Jefferson continued. "How did you even learn about my Dark Room? Was it Nathan? Did he tell you? Ugh. That little snake waited until Thursday to tell me how much you knew, can you believe it? I tried with that boy, I really did. But in the end, he did not have what it takes to be a true artist."
Sensing her opportunity to learn about Nathan's fate, Max pressed the subject. "Is... Nathan okay? You haven't hurt him, have you?"
A small expression of shock escaped Jefferson's demeanor. "You are full of surprises, Ms. Caulfield." Chuckling, he continued "Yes, Nathan is quite alright. I sent him back to collect your blue haired compatriot. After I saw that familiar face on your cell phone, I figured it would be prudent to... let's say, tie up loose ends. That girl is quite persistent. Twenty-four missed calls so far. You should feel flattered-I believe that was more than Rachel got."
Rage like Max had never known brewed insider her, stymied only by the thought that there was still hope. If Nathan's alive, then maybe Chloe can take him down. Make him talk, get the code. I know it's a long shot, but it's the only hope I have. I need to keep stalling Jefferson. "How can you expect to get away with this? You're leaving a trail of bodies, Jefferson. There's no way you're walking away from this a free man."
"I can, and I will, Max," Jefferson rebuked. "By the time Nathan and your punk friend get here, our little chat will be... concluded." Max gulped involuntarily at the implication. "Then all that's left to do is shoot Nathan, kill this Chloe girl, and then set up it as double-homicide slash suicide. Given how unstable Nathan is, it's a story people will buy. Especially considering your text message history. Hell, you and your friend actually made life easier with your little stunt today at Blackwell-displaying the address of this studio like that. All I have to do is leave the bodies in here, and eventually the police will put it together. Any evidence implicating me, of course, will remain absent."
He's right. If Nathan does manage to take Chloe, then it might really be game over.
"But we're getting off topic, Max. You know things you shouldn't. You see, that's a problem for me. I," he paused, rising from his crouched position to begin pacing the room, "am an artist. I do not make mistakes. But somehow, against all rationality, you know about my work. You know about Rachel. You will tell me how you know, Max. I am not afraid to take... unseemly... measures to get what I want."
This was something new. While Max's previous Dark Room experience had been terrifying beyond belief, Jefferson had shown merciful little interest in causing her physical harm. But the look in his eyes, and the tone in his voice as he made the threat, made Max's heart grow cold with fear. Oh shit. He really means it. I-I'm not, some, some hardened spy! But there's nothing honest I can tell him that he'll believe... Keep it together, Max. I'll just, just try to keep him talking.
"You got sloppy, Mark," Max spat, mustering all the courage she had into her voice. "It wasn't hard to figure out what happened to Rachel, and from there, your sick little fetish. You call that art?", she demanded, shifting her head towards the storage units she assumed held the photo binders. "You're sick, Mark. And soon, the whole world is going to see you for what you are."
Jefferson stopped his pacing as Max spoke, his expression growing dark. He folded his arms and quietly regarded Max for a moment. "I had hopes for you, Max. Not as a photographer, of course. God no," he chuckled. "Your pathetic attempts at self portraiture on your little toy camera? Please, Max. No... the reason you were let into Blackwell had nothing to do with your abilities. But now, all that, I'm afraid, is ruined. You'll never be the subject I hoped for. A true regret."
"Happy to disappoint," Max glowered. But Mark had finally managed to say something that hit home, if but only a little. Max's acceptance to Blackwell on an artistic scholarship had been an amazing morale boost. A validation that she did have potential to achieve her dreams as a photographer. He's just trying to break me down. I know what I can do.
The buzz of a text message interrupted the conversation. Mark read his phone with a smile. "Looks like Nathan was successful. I guess he's not a complete failure. Still, art demands perfection. And Nathan has failed me one too many times." Mark set his phone down onto the desk, and once again approached Max. "Let me level with you Max. I won't enjoy hurting you any more that you'll enjoy being hurt. So how about you make life easier for both of us? Once you tell me what I want to know, I'll make all this go away. It will be painless, I promise."
Oh god. Don't freeze brain! Just, please... keep him talking. But-there's n-nothing else to say. Max could feel her body beginning to tremble as she realized Mark had made his decision to take "next steps." Chloe... I... I never told her. I never told her I loved her. And now we're both going to die, alone. I'm so sorry Chloe. I failed you. "Please-please don't," Max found herself begging as she returned to struggling against her constraints.
"You're forcing my hand here, Max," Mark maintained. "For the sake of my art? I will do anything." Mark retrieved from the table a small, black handheld device.
Somehow, Max felt a calm settle over her. She closed her eyes, wishing herself away from the chair, the room, Jefferson, everything. I love you Chloe. I love you so, so much.
"Now. Max. Let's begin. I am going to ask you a question, and you are going to answer. If I think you're lying to me, or holding something back, then..." Mark completed his sentence by activating the taser while it was pointed in mid air. "First question. Tell me..."
Mark was cut off by the sound of the storm shelter's door being accessed. "What? Idiot's not supposed to be back for another half hour," Mark snapped, putting the taser back onto the table. He left Max's vision walking towards the entrance, grumbling under his breath, "Nathan, I swear to god, can you not get one thing..." But Mark never finished his sentence. A blur of motion and he found himself winded, knocked on his back. A furious Pompidou had lodged canine jaws into Mark's shoulder, practically dragging him across the floor. "The fuck," was all Mark managed to shout before Frank knocked him unconscious with a swift punch to the face.
Seeing Max for the first time since entering the room, Frank stood for a moment in shock. "Jesus, fucking, christ," he muttered, disconcerted by the sight of Max bound to a chair. Within moments, a blue head of hair stuck itself around the corner and took in the room. "MAX?", Chloe cried, voice full of both grief and terror. "Oh holy shit, thank Jesus, oh god, Max," Chloe babbled as she ran to the chair, furiously working at freeing Max's arms and legs. Chloe was a complete mess-cheeks stained with tears, hair frazzled, eyes red. But to Max, in that moment, she had never looked more beautiful.
Is this, is this real? Is this happening? Have I snapped, like poor Sam Lowry? And why am I thinking of weird British movie references? Max realized she was crying, but couldn't form any words in her mouth. The transition of terror to euphoric relief over just a few seconds had left her in a state of shock, unable to grapple with unfolding events.
Chloe lifted Max off the chair and gave her a quick look up and down. "Max, are you hurt? Did he hurt you?" Max shook her head, still unable to formulate words, but made eye contact with Chloe. Next thing she knew, she was pulled into a fierce hug that Chloe refused to end. Chloe's hands gripped her back tightly, and Max felt repeated kisses being rained onto the top of her head.
Frank, still standing over an unconscious Jefferson, cleared his throat after a few minutes. He looked around the room, feeling a bit awkward at being in the moment with Max and Chloe. "Well, that's another one you owe me Price. Now can we please get the fuck out of here? This place creeps me out."
The following hours were a mass of confusion that Max largely did not understand. She was outside the storm bunker-several police cars and an ambulance were parked nearby. A cop spoke to her... she couldn't remember the name. She saw Jefferson being carried away in cuffs. She caught Nathan's eye as he sat in the back of a police cruiser. Somehow, she found herself at the police station giving statements. Signing documents. Promising to follow up over the next few days. Several times people tried to separate Chloe from Max, and several times people failed. Chloe was there, by her side, through all of it, which was perhaps why she remembered so little of it. Being with Chloe felt like a dream. Why bother pay attention to anything else?
Max now found herself sitting on a bench in the Arcadia Bay police station's lobby with a light blanket draped around her shoulders. She leaned into Chloe who sat just next to her, cradling her close. The smell. It's weird-I don't remember being obsessed with smells before. But now I can't get enough of her scent. It's, like, I'll freak out or something if a minute goes by and I can't smell her. Amazingly little had been spoken between them in the hours since the rescue. Chloe understood that Max was still in a state of quiet shock, riding off the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Max, for her part, simply couldn't believe the sudden turnaround in her fate. I... I was ready to die, I think. After everything that's happened, it felt like the universe had finally decided to collect. But now... is it really over? Can I go back to my life... this time, with Chloe?
"Oh, honey," Joyce exclaimed as she entered the station and saw the pair sitting on the bench. She moved to them quickly, joining Chloe in the hug around Max. "Are you ready to get out here?" Max vaguely remembered agreeing to return to Chloe's house at some point during the proceedings. I could sleep for a million years. In Chloe's bed. With Chloe. A small blush formed as her mind remained on the thought, causing Chloe, who had been hawkishly observing Max, to give a coy smile. Joyce released herself and turned to address an approaching officer.
"Hey there. You thinkin' 'bout what I'm thinkin' 'bout?", Chloe purred into Max's ear. Max responded by nuzzling her face further into Chloe's chest. "I'll take that as a yes, then," Chloe surmised.
"I just want to go home, Chloe. I need... I need at least a week of movie marathons, all day breakfast, and video games."
"We got you covered, Max. Though, not sure if we can get you all the way back to Seattle anytime soon."
Max gasped at the insinuation. "Chloe. Don't give me that," Max paused, biting her lip at the corny truthfulness of her next line: "You're my home."
"... Any other time, Caulfield, I'd give you hell for being so sappy," Chloe murmured, placing another kiss on Max's head. "But today you get a free pass. Oh, and we already talked to Principal Wells. You've got the whole next week off. No class. Just you, me, laptop, bed."
"Sounds amazing, Chloe," Max said with a contented sigh. A sudden realization startled her. "Oh, shit, I haven't spoken to my parents."
"Hah, yeah, they've been chomping at the bit to speak to you. Police contacted 'em earlier, but you were busy doing the statement thing. We told them you'd get in touch after we got home."
Max relaxed a bit, thankful that they weren't being kept in the dark. "Sounds good, Chloe," she acknowledged with a heavy yawn. Chloe grabbed Max's legs, hauling Max's body into her lap. "Am I a baby now?", Max joked, half asleep. "Nah," Chloe chided while hugging Max tightly. "Don't you remember? You're Super-Max."
"So what happened to Frank?", Max asked as she found herself, at long last, spooned closely by Chloe, in Chloe's bed. Before entering the sanctuary of Chloe's room Max made sure to take a minute and call her parents. They frantically asked her to come home the next day. Unable to deal with explaining why that wasn't gonna happen, Max told them that she was dead tired and needed to stay in Arcadia Bay for the time being. She promised them details after she had gotten some sleep. Suddenly, giving my parents the talk just doesn't seem so scary anymore. So instead, her parents promised to begin the long drive down from Seattle as soon as they could.
"Well, he was questioned by the police. Dude already has a bit of a rep with them, but I guess saving a hapless teenage girl from the whims of a psychopath puts you in their better graces."
"Well," Max yawned, wiggling to close any remaining spare space left between them, "that's good. I wouldn't want him to get any fallout from all this."
"Even though he might deserve it, a little. After all, he did sell Nathan the drugs that... that killed Rachel," Chloe lamented.
Max grew silent for a moment, letting Rachel's memory fill the air. "Chloe, I... are you OK with, with how fast we're taking things? I... I know how much you loved her."
Chloe moved her hand through Max's hair, and placed a kiss on her cheek. "You have no idea. With you gone, she became... she became my everything, Max. Fuck," she said with a frustrated sigh. "Victoria might be a monumental bitch, but she was right about one thing. I am clingy. And I think," she paused with a gulp, "... I think that's what drove Rachel away. I think it drove her... her..." When Chloe couldn't continue the sentence, Max realized it was her turn to give comfort.
"Don't you dare blame yourself for what happened to Rachel, Chloe", Max insisted, squirming around face Chloe directly. "When everyone else gave up on her, even her own parents, you kept looking. In the end, you were the only one that truly loved her."
"Max... how can you... shit, now I'm all choked up..." Max didn't allow her to continue. Their kiss began softly, each other's hands on the other's cheeks. As before, it grew slowly. Tenderly. A low burning passion, giving rise to an emotional crescendo that exhausted both their senses. When it finally broke, Max said the words she had longed to, while awaiting death in the Dark Room.
"I love you, Chloe Price."