Disclaimer: I do not own Life is Strange, the song Neptune by Sleeping at Last, or any of the other works of fiction mentioned.
"Max? What are you doing here?" Nathan asks as he's lead into the visitation room by a nurse.
It's a simple room with round tables and sets of chairs. Carpets that are regularly vacuumed cushion each footstep while lamps with plain white shades wait to light the way at night. A large window in the middle of one wall lets sunlight flood in. At the door, two workers stand guard. Security—Max guesses. In case a violent patient acts up during a visit.
This place doesn't have the sickeningly strong chemical fume of a normal hospital, although hints of cleaners linger from when workers have to clean up after the patients. Plants lining every hallway give the building a pleasant, earthy smell. Paintings adorn every wall with pigments perfectly mixed and spread into soothing images of rivers and forests. Cleaners for an infected mind, not an infected body.
Nathan settles across from her and nods his thanks to the nurse before she leaves. "No offense, but you're one of the last people I expected to see here," he says.
Max allows herself a small smile and says, "You kind of saved my life, Nathan. I wanted to see how you were doing."
He's paler now and wears plain grey clothes, the style a mix of pajamas and staff scrubs. His normally neatly combed hair is a mess atop his head. What sticks out the most are the dark circles under his dull eyes. The spark of anger Max remembers from Blackwell is gone, and there's nothing to take its place.
"I did what I should have done a long time ago," Nathan says. "Nothing more."
The silence between them is awkward with neither having held a real conversation with the other, but Max has a question to which she needs an answer. "How did you get involved in this?"
Nathan sighs and rubs his palm down his face from the base of his nose. "It was never my choice," he starts. "I was born into it, years after Jefferson became involved."
Everybody… used me.
Flash.
Nathan looks towards the window and taps his fingers on the table while he continues. "My family struck oil generations ago, and that was the start of our wealth. Wealth is power, and power… it does things to people.
"My great-grandfather grew obsessed with exerting his power over victims. He wasn't a photographer, and cameras at that time were far different from what they are now, but he sketched. He always had a pencil and paper with him. His sketchbooks are hidden away at my house, and my dad showed them to me when I was young in preparation for me to continue the displays of power started by my great-grandfather. Like he was grooming me from the beginning for this work. Trying to make something horrible into something normal."
Nathan's face turns slightly green and his hand on the table balls into a fist. "They were sick drawings, Max," he says. "As sick as Jefferson's pictures. At least with the drawings, you can pretend they're fake. It's always the same with each generation. Women drugged and bound."
"Why?" Max asks.
"Think about it. Our world has always seen women as victims. So much so that a term for it was created. Damsel in distress. Someone who has to be saved, unable to save themselves. Regardless of whether or not you agree, that's how society views it."
Max thinks back over the works of fiction she's been exposed to over the years. Even in classics like Popeye, Olive Oyl always needed to be saved. That was the entire show's point, saving the damsel in distress. In the Mario series, he spends each game saving Princess Peach after she's kidnapped. The more she thinks of it, the more she realizes the truth to Nathan's words.
Women are often portrayed as the victim, and his family wanted to take that to the extreme.
"Just because of that, your grandfather decided to draw pictures of women while they're drugged and bound to start some sick legacy?" she asks.
"I don't know if it started like that, but that's all I saw. My dad told me I was born to take advantage of the weak like this. He had his good friend Mark Jefferson—a man with similar obsessions to himself—willing to train me, but I think Jefferson really just wanted access to our money and bunker. They tried to push their obsession onto me, lead me to believe that it was my destiny to take these pictures at the expense of the innocent." He pauses. "It's hard to grow up in a world like that and see the faults without them being pointed out to you."
"What changed?"
He shrugs and turns to face her. "Rachel. She died because I messed up, and I loved her. I… I never realized what we were doing until I saw her face after she woke up in The Dark Room. She looked so scared and so angry. At me. When she saw Jefferson there, she lashed out at him. She really was in love with him, and trusted him. So he used that and betrayed her. Have you ever seen someone go through those feelings?
"Well, Jefferson doesn't like his subjects to be so lucid and uncooperative. He had me drug her again, but I told him I just did. Not that he cared. And I overdosed her because of that."
His voice cracks and he tilts his head down, but Max saw the tears lining his eyes before he hid them.
I didn't want to hurt Kate or Rachel, or… I didn't want to hurt anybody.
Flash.
Watch out, Max. He wants to hurt you next.
Flash.
Sorry.
Flash.
"It wasn't your fault, not really," Max says. "You never had a choice in all of this. And at least now you can heal and find what you really want to do. No destiny bullshit."
"I'll always live with this. And you'll have to live with what happened to you."
"I know," she says.
Nathan tilts his head up. "I was scared for you, Max," he says. "It's not a secret that we weren't on good terms, but his obsession with you became horrifying. Given enough time on his own, I don't want to know what he would have done. It's lucky that you and your friends managed to put him on edge. When he started to lose the calm, calculating method of his work, I thought there might be a chance to end it.
"You said that I saved you, but I think you saved me, Max. From a Hell that I never wanted to be part of to begin with. So thanks."
Max reaches out to pat Nathan's hand on the table. "A lot happened in Arcadia Bay that no one deserved to experience, but we all have at least one person who wants to help us through it. Help us heal," she says.
"Who do I have?" Nathan asks. He sounds defeated, and his shoulders slump. He's the shell of an angry boy, but there's room now to fill that shell with something better.
"Victoria," Max says. "And me, if you want. I know you said we don't have to be friends when you helped me, but we could be. After all, we did save each other."
"Thanks, Max. Thanks for visiting, too," Nathan says. "It gets lonely way out here."
"What about the rest of your family besides your dad? Don't they visit?"
Nathan shakes his head. "My mom is dealing with the publicity and trying to keep our businesses from sinking because of our diminishing reputation. My sister is off doing her own thing on a different continent, but promised to visit as soon as she can. She ran from our dad, but I don't think she ever knew the extent of our history. I think Dad knew she wouldn't do it." A smile spreads on Nathan's face. "She always looked out for me. One of the most kindhearted people you'll ever meet."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know," Max says. "I'll come back and visit again. Maybe I'll bring Victoria with me and let Chloe passed the lobby."
"Chloe's here? Well, I did think there was… something between you two when I saw you all over Blackwell together, like you were on a mission. And then how broken she was when you were in The Dark Room."
Max feels the heat flood her face and knows that she's blushing. She clears her throat and looks away.
"Would you mind telling her that I'm sorry for what I did?" he asks, taking a hint and changing the subject. "You can let her know that I burned the picture I took. Seeing it made me sick."
Max remembers the picture he's talking about. And honestly, she felt sick seeing it as well. Chloe in the fetal position, her eyes wide and mind clearly miles away. There are too many pictures in Arcadia, so that one being gone is a welcomed change now.
"I'll let her know."
She looks at the mirror in the Two Whales' bathroom, only to find Rachel Amber staring back at her.
"Why did you get to live?" she asks. "Why you, and not me?"
"Rachel… I don't know. I'm sorry. I'd change it if I could."
Rachel laughs, cold and mirthless. "You've changed enough already. By all rights, both you and Chloe should be enjoying the afterlife with me. Was it all really worth it, Max? You could have accepted your fate and died. Instead you chose to suffer for the rest of your life, haunted by memories."
She reaches out of the mirror and wraps her hands around Max's throat, squeezing until she gasps for air. Black marker covers the mirror one stroke at a time, writing out 'Rachel in The Dark Room' over and over. Within seconds, even Rachel's image is obscured by the words.
The mirror shatters into blue feathers and Max rushes to exit before she's grabbed again by something new.
The diner is filled with people, and they're all staring at her when she bursts in. They don't say anything, but she swallows the bile rising in the back of her throat from their intense gazes. She keeps her head down and walks passed them, until her arm is grabbed and she's forced to turn and face the culprit.
Herself.
Variations of Max occupy an entire booth. One wearing Chloe's jacket is the one that grabbed the real Max's arm. She's surrounded by Max with a deep blue dress and golden necklace, Max with a striped shirt and purple cardigan, Max with a green jacket, white shirt, and dream catcher necklace, and Max with a light grey hoodie and Jane Doe shirt.
"Why you and not us? We're the same, so what makes you so special?" one asks.
"I don't know… I didn't ask for any of this," Max says. "It's a curse."
"So you cursed us with it."
Max tries to pull her arm free from her duplicate's grip, but it's too strong. Her wrist feels close to snapping."I didn't. I didn't do anything to any of you. I don't even know what you mean."
They share sadistic grins between each other. "You made decisions, and then left us to deal with them. Is that fair to us? We can't even change it like you can. Guess we're not made the same as the original. Just cheap knock-offs."
"If I could give you this shitty power, believe me I would," Max says. "But it doesn't work like that."
"No, you can't give us what we need to clean up your mess. You can't do anything to make it right."
"Then what do you want from me?"
The Max with a golden necklace is in front of her within a second, wrapping the chain around Max's neck. "We want you to suffer, too."
Her ability to breath diminishes as the necklace becomes tighter and tighter. "I already suffer. Everyday because of this. Because of all of this."
Her world shakes with Chloe's face hovering above her. "Chloe," she grumbles. "Chloe, I'm awake. Please stop."
She stops, and moves back to her side of the bed. "It's been over a week, Max," she says. "You've had nightmares every night since we visited Nathan. What shook you up so much?"
Max can't make out the details of Chloe's face in the limited moonlight spilling through the window, but she knows what she'd see. The worry that overtakes Chloe's face so often now. After these last weeks, she's seen it enough times to memorize each line that forms. "You act like you think I'm hiding something."
When Chloe stays quiet, Max says, "Chloe, I don't know why my nightmares have gotten so bad since visiting. I really have no idea what would have caused it."
"Was it about the other Maxes again?" she asks in a whisper.
"Yeah."
"You don't… You don't think it means something, do you?"
Max shakes her head. "I think it means I'm losing my mind, but we both knew that part already. So, no. Not really."
"You gonna make it back to sleep? It's kinda the middle of the night still," Chloe says. She rushes to add, "It's fine if you can't. We can go on a midnight drive and find some dump that'll serve us coffee or whatever this late."
"I'll be fine."
"Max…" she warns. "No lying to me, remember?"
"I'm not. I'll be fine tonight. It was just a bad dream."
Chloe rolls over and drapes her arm over Max. "Well, I guess I'll have to be your safety blanket. Keep away the bad dreams."
Max's heart tries beating out of her chest at Chloe's closeness. In her stomach flutter dozens of butterflies. Everything feels foreign in the best way, and she hopes that morning never arrives so Chloe won't let go.
Thanksgiving comes and goes in a refreshing bout of peace. Max decides to stay in Arcadia Bay and enjoy a turkey dinner prepared by Joyce. Her break from Blackwell for Thanksgiving isn't long enough to justify a trip to Seattle anyway.
Then it's December and Max sits on the floor next to Chloe with her fireplace burning. "Feels like we're kids again," she says. "Just need a cup of hot cocoa with plenty of marshmallows."
"Ew, no thanks," Chloe says. "You know I like my hot cocoa overflowing with whip cream. No marshmallows for me."
Max nudges Chloe with her elbow. "You're so weird. You know that the marshmallows all soaked in cocoa are the best part."
"As usual, we'll have to agree to disagree on this, Mad Max."
"Alright. Alright," she concedes. "But I know you'll see the light someday, Chloe."
The lapses in their conversations aren't tense or negative in anyway, not with the crackling of the firewood filling in for their words.
"You're going back to Seattle for Winter break," Chloe says, bringing up the topic they've both avoided since Thanksgiving.
"Probably. My parents wanted me there for Thanksgiving, and you know how they've been since the, uh, whole Dark Room thing," Max says. She watches the fire dance over the logs fed to it. Beautifully destructive.
Chloe twists the bracelets on her wrists, keeping her hands from being idle. "Are you coming back this time?" she asks.
Max looks at Chloe, but Chloe keeps her attention on her hands. "What? Yes, Chloe. Of course I'm coming back this time."
"How do I know?"
She doesn't even sound angry, and that's what hurts the most. It's pure helplessness. They both know that if Max wants to leave, she has every right to. Go back to her family and get away from the nightmares haunting her every night in Arcadia.
"You just have to trust me."
"I trusted you last time. That didn't work out so well, did it, Max?"
"This is different."
"Yeah? What makes it different?" Chloe spits out. "You're just leaving me again."
"It's different because I think I'm starting to feel something beyond friendship with you, Chloe," Max bursts out. "And I don't wanna screw up this time, because I don't think I could make it five years without you again."
And Chloe's arms are around her before she can blink. "I knew I wasn't crazy thinking you felt something too. Max, I've already loved you for awhile."
Max returns the hug and buries her face in Chloe's shoulder. "How do you now for sure?"
Chloe laughs. "I just do. You'll figure your feelings out sooner or later, and I'll be right here when you do," she says. "Although I'm biased towards the 'Yes, I love you, Chloe' option."
"Chloe, thank you. These past two months, you've really been the only thing keeping me together."
"You know I always will, but I thought you were doing better lately," she says. "You've seemed well."
They move to sit on the couch. "I've had a bad feeling these past few days. I thought it was nothing at first, but it's just been getting stronger."
"What kind of bad feeling?"
Max shrugs. "I feel like something's wrong, or something's going to happen. And I can't stop it. It's that feeling you get when you know you've messed up, and now you're waiting for punishment."
Chloe pats Max's arm. "You felt that way after your tornado visions. Do you think it's like that again?"
"I hope not. I haven't used my power in a long time, and things have been better. I mean, yeah, not everything is great. But I can manage," she says. "Besides, I'm having nightmares about Rachel and practically clones of myself, which is a huge step up from a tornado. At least tornadoes are possible."
"If you asked anyone other than me, they'd tell you that time travel isn't possible either. But, well, we both know it is. At the same time, we don't know if anything will happen at all. No offense, but you're pretty low on the list of Arcadia's sane population after what you went through."
Max sighs, which turns into a small laugh. "I'm not offended. You're right, this could be nothing and I might be worried because I'm paranoid. I almost hope that's the case. It'd be easier to be diagnosed as crazy—again—than to try and handle whatever dreams like that mean."
"One day at a time," Chloe says.
"One day at a time," Max echoes.
With the tip of her boot, Chloe closes Max's suitcase. "I guess that's it," she says. "You're really going."
Max zips the case, shoving in the bits of cloth trying to escape. "Yeah. My parents are about an hour out, so it's too late to turn back now."
"Send them back alone. Big deal."
"Chloe, we've talked about this," Max says. "I'm going to Seattle for Christmas, and then I'm coming back to Arcadia Bay."
"Are you sure you'll be okay?"
Max shrugs. "I can't be sure of anything other than that I have to do this."
"You don't have to prove anything, Max. Everyone knows you've been through Hell, people don't escape that unscathed."
Max shrugs. "But I do have something to prove, Chloe. I've been relying on you a lot to not completely slip away from reality, but I've been doing really well lately," she says. "And you'd know that. My nightmares aren't intense anymore and my nose hasn't bled. It's been weeks since anything major has happened."
"So you want to tempt fate and see if you can fly solo now."
"I just want to know if I have any shred of independence left."
"I watched all those art documentaries for you, and you're leaving me to test yourself." Chloe's smirk takes the edge off her words.
"They were for your own benefit," Max says. "You needed a little more culture in your life."
Chloe shakes her head with a groan. "Are we just not going to talk about what you told me the other day? About feelings that you might have? You haven't even brought it up and you're about to leave now."
Max sighs and picks up her suitcase. "Let's save it for a day when my parents aren't coming to take me to another state in less than an hour."
She looks at Chloe's face and forces out a smile. "Look, I'll go there and be back in two weeks. We can talk about it all you want then, because I will still be fine and you will still be fine. Everybody is going to be fine and in Arcadia."
"I'll drag you back if you don't return on your own, Max."
Max laughs and Chloe joins her. "Deal."
A/N: Well, we needed a bit of relationship development in this story.
Thank you to all those who review, follow, favorite, and read this story. Another storm is brewing.