A/N: Chapter 13 is already like halfway done, so the wait until the next chapter will be much short.

Please check out Riley Hawke on YouTube - her new song 'Overexposed' was one she made for this story project, and the video she made for it was incredibly creative and in line with All Wounds' overall story, from beginning to end.

Life stuff update, so if you don't care and just wanna read the story, have at it.

This project's been taking a lot longer than I planned. I've been holding off on doing too much work on the visual novel as I'd really prefer the whole story to be written before I do – that way, I can build the VN knowing exactly where the story is going, and make edits and changes to enhance things.

Personal end of things?

I'm dating mollifiable now and she's coming to visit soon, but I'm broke af for a number of reasons, struggling to figure out how I'll get to spend time with her but also pay my bills that month, coping with physical health aftereffects of stress and anxiety (even though I'm technically feeling a lot better lately?), absolutely fucking lost in terms of trying to find a new job that isn't so stressful and drain so much out of me, not really in a place to be able to afford artwork commissions like I used to, aaaaaand oh right, I'm trying to transition my gender and because of current work/finances, I can't...really do that properly yet.

This is all to say, this is a non-profit project – though other fandom creators are able to profit from their work, it isn't really the case with writers, unfortunately. That said, I feel compelled to ask for charitable donations from anyone willing – even if it's going to go directly to an artist to make art for this project, that would still help immensely. But things like taking care of mollifiable while she's here, things I can use in my gender transition, aide in those would also greatly help. I'm even willing to do one-shot commissions on the side for anyone interested. And any recommendations on job leads for a writer and multimedia editor in the SF Bay Area, also good. You can message me here, you can e-mail me at D3stiny dot Sm4sher at gmail, or you can straight up at eddy dot fettig09 at houghton dot edu (though if you do, please leave a note indicating how the donation should be used). I don't really expect much from this, but every bit helps.

Also, my main sprite artist, Shannon, has had quite a stressful year, and I'm not sure if she's going to be able to fully commit to this entire project – if anyone has any suggestions for an artist passionate about LiS who might be interested in collaborating on sprites for the later portion of the story (after the time skip), I'm all ears. Just be forewarned that I'll probably be fairly picky.

Sooooo, yea. All of the shit, a bit too much going on these days, and yet my life is still basically spinning its wheels in mud as I wait for change I can't seem to make happen.

Thanks for continuing to stick with the story.

Life is Strange
All Wounds

Chapter 12 - Memorial

"You know, through pain, you learn a lot about yourself - things you thought you never knew you wanted to learn. And it's kind of like those animals that regrow a part of their body - like a starfish.
You might not feel it. You might not even want to grow, but you will. You'll grow that part that broke off, and that growing - that blooming - cannot happen without the pain."

~ Kelle Hamptom

The sea were oddly quiet that morn, still dark wit' stars n' moon above. The sloshing of waves, the creaking of wooden hulls o'er each crest of the still ocean...t'were unsettling.

Passing through hell's kitchen, they were. An entire fleet. Shadowed faces in the distance stared clear through their souls whilst they passed, their ghostly features unclear in the dark.

Brownbeard's mangy beast were yipping like mad...'tweren't an aide to their circumstances. The poor lad, his leg still bandaged and bloody, were set down upon the deck, trying to quell his creature's fright.

Chlo Morpho were acting in kind toward her own 'beast,' as it were...Not quite petting a dog, but her lone hand were running lengthwise through the Cap'n's mane, helping brace them both for the Chaos soon to come...

The stillness of everything 'round them turned oppressive the longer they drifted through the fleet.

Chlo found herself shaken by the Cap'n's trembling. This were Maximus Hawkmoth. The Cap'n Maximus. Afraid. Petrified. 'Twere discomforting.

A swell of relief o' some sort seeped into them as they approached the ship at the end o' the fleet – a glorious ship in its own right. Nary a canon perched upon it, but a well-tended vessel, for true. Only two crewman, side by side, upon deck: a short, round one, and a tall, broad-shouldered one. Shrouded in fog and dark, they were.

And there it was, high atop the crow's nest – a glint in the full moon's pale light – the horned, golden Crown of Captain Sunlace. A tangle of metal, shaped into antlers to form a headpiece which nigh glowed even in this dead o' night.

But glowing 'neath 'er crown weren't the angel's features o' Sunlace, but...rather...some pair o' devil's eyes. Beast eyes. A Monster, gussied up to play pirate, eyepatch n' all. Her long ponytail o' red flick'd in the cold, salty wind, 'n her fin-like ears twitched wit' anticipation.

As Maximus lulled their puny vessel to a stop before this ship and its inhuman captain, the Beast bared a chilling grin. Teeth like white knives – a piranha's smile.

A voice like an icicle snarled from the spaces between the Beast's teeth.

"The Human they call 'Maximus.'"

Chlo's insides twisted and tangled like a squid caught in a net. She felt the Cap'n's shoulders quiver a bit.

"Ye've arrived!" declared the Beast, thrusting up a scaled, slimy palm skyward.

"So I have," the Cap'n called back with much perplexation. "What's it matter to ye?! Why're ya blockin' our way?!"

"Aye, we all owe ye a lot, so we do!" bellowed the Monster, whirling about with a rough flick o' her coattails, squaring them down from 'er perch. "T'was you what brought us together, aft'r all!" She flicked her fishy limbs out to her fleet, n' they cheered in reply. "'Tis true," she jeered to her cohorts. "Ain't it, me hearties?!"

"NGAAAAAAHHHHH!" boomed the very air round them, so full o' voices from cursed souls. Their anger-spiked sorrow made the dank air heavy. Oppressin', as much as voices could be.

Brownbeard's mutt weren't pleased with the development, but 'is measly yelps were snuffed outright by the rabid cheers o' the Beast's massive crew. The sounds were swallowing the lot o' them.

'Twas in this moment that Chlo Morpho realized the sailors manning the fleet surrounding them were...skeletons. Whole lot o' them. Undead atrocities in pirate's clothing. She'd 'eard the rumors o' Arcadia's lost souls runnin' with this fearful captain, but…The survivors o' the Arcadia Storm...t'weren't survivors o' the sort she'd imagined. 'N they seemed a might bit foul-tempered at the presence of the ones who'd wrought their seaside town asunder. On the deck o' the Beast's ship, those crewman…were a strikingly familiar pair of bags o' bones. Their skeletal smiles, eerie in their joyous expressions, eyes glowin' cold, caught Chlo's heart in 'er chest. Their child-like grins tugged at 'er own Human Soul with a might discomfort. This all t'weren't right.

"A band o' thieves!" taunted the blue-skinned Beast."Like all Humans are - snoopin' 'round our waters, tryin' to plunder what li'l we 'ave left! Lookin' fer this, were ye?!" She pointed a fishy finger to the antler-twine crown upon 'er head. It glistened in the moonlight, it did, and the sight shook Chlo Morpho to 'er core.

"Where'd ye steal that from?!" Chlo demanded, pointing 'er hooked hand with a building fury.

"NGAH!" huffed the Monster, all offended like. "Ne'er stole it! Ain't stoopin' to depths ye Humans drag yerselves down to...Not anymore."

Chlo pressed with ferocity, "What 'ave ye done with Queen Sunlace, ye cursed wench?!"

The Monster Captain were confused for a brief time, yellowed eyes narrowing like an ominous sunset.

"...Oh. So ye 'aven't forgot 'bout her, eh? Well, shiver me damn timbers. Ye had us all fooled…!"

Chlo weren't sure what that could've meant. But the Beast's expression turned from ice to fire as she towered threateningly.

Chlo swapped afeared looks with 'er Cap'n in search of retort.

"'Course not, ye cursed creature!" Chlo cried with a swing of her hook hand. "We'd ne'er forget Sunlace!"

The Monster's smile turned south, 'er eye flashed a bright blue, an' her scaled hand unraveled. With a ghostly flash, somethin' o' the magical sort formed in 'er fingers: a Spear of cerulean light turned solid.

With fist clenched, the Monster prattled impatiently.

"While ye've been frolickin' about with yer crooked Cap'n, we've been sufferin'! Slavin' away to seek salvation of our Queen." She pointed the spear right at Chlo Morpho in a rage. "Of your Queen!"

"Sunlace ain't our Queen!" came Cap'n Maximus with a gruff snort. Chlo were a bit startled by the retort, herself.

The Beast surely did not like this answer, either. She leapt, high n' true, landing square on her fin-ankled boots, right upon Maximus' vessel wit' such force, the ship swayed. Her gold earrings, fashioned to skull shapes, swayed and sparkled in the pale light o' the full moon. She set the brunt of 'er Spear against the rickety wood beneath 'er.

"One," said the Monster, her words akin to a midnight's breeze o'er gentle waves. "One Time-Touched Human Soul...and Ray Sunlace can be our prop'r Queen once again...Understand?" Her yellow eyes shifted from Chlo to Maximus, alight with a real hunger which rattled Morpho's bones. "Maximus Hawkmoth. Yer a Time-Touched Human, so ya are. Yer Soul be broken, 'tis, but this Crown, y'see...-" She removed the gold antlered headpiece with care. "This Crown can mend it."

Cap'n Maximus's good eye were glazed over, the moon cast upon it like 'twere a mirror to another place. Chlo's head went dizzy, 'er guts spun in a whirlpool.

"And wit' yer Soul," insisted the menacing Monster, her voice rising like the tide, "the world'll be transformed! Ye know it will! Ye've done it before!"

There were an ominous ...laugh, if it could be called such, from one o' the Beast's crew from upon her ship, back in the shadows.

". . .heh heh heh. . .!"

The skull's teeth chattered out words, low and lazy-like, echoing 'cross the slow waves.

". . .she's time-touched, fer true. been busy, she 'as. . ."

His hollow eyehole glowed somethin' wrong, just like the Monster's had when she pulled 'er magic Spear from nothin'. Chlo's mighty Cap'n were oddly shaken by the skeleton, 'is wide, Cheshire grin afoul with an unspoken fury. Left the poor Cap'n quiverin' an' shook, this all did. The way Maximus' fingers trembl'd, way 'er jaw clenched, way her one eye turned wet wit' fear…-

Were this bag o' bones the one what stole the Cap'n's left eye? His glowin' blue eyehole were mesmerizin' in a way only Maximus were to Chlo. Made her endeared yet afeared all at once.

". . .these two'r in fer another bad time, from the look of it. . .heh heh heh. . ."

Chlo were a might unsettled.

"Ye've meddled with the workin's o' this world, Human!" The Monster Cap'n, almost in a plea, brought the Crown closer n' closer. "'N now ye'll do it again…Fer y'see, Ray Sunlace needs ye…"

Chlo squeezed her arm 'round Maximus' own. Maximus took a step, nigh spellbound by the Crown.

"The Queen's story," whispered the Beast, going to place the Crown upon Maximus' skull. "I'll regale it to ye…"

"Cap'n," Chlo growled, yanking on her beloved's arm. "Cap'n!"

The Cap'n's distant eye went wide in a start, and she snapped to the present moment.

Maximus snatched the Crown from the Monster's hands. The Beast shrieked with rage, producing 'er Spear, and Chlo gave 'er a harsh tackle before she could use it.

The clattering and rattling of so many bones was deafening as the platoon o' skeletons took up arms. In retort, Brownbeard groaned with irritation, drawing his dagger. 'Is hound bore its teeth and rumbled low, unsettled. A battle were 'bout to start, and a one-sided one, at that.

Pinned to the deck by Chlo, the Beast hissed betwixt 'er razor teeth: "You know what?" Her voice were...different, somehow.

Chlo were so distracted, her quarry got the upper hand, seized her arms, n' cast her aside.

"SCREW IT!" roared the Monster Captain, scrambling to her feet in fury. Stomping fer Maximus, Spear dragging 'cross the wooden deck, she howled, "WHY SHOULD I PLAY ALONG WITH THIS STUPID STORY WHEN YOU'RE ABOUT TO DIE!?"

Maximus, Crown in palm, were frozen, afeared of the Monster's irregularity.

Brownbeard's mangy canine showed his own ferocious jaws, and made to maul the Monster.

The Monster, howe'er, stuck her Spear clean through the mutt's skull in reply. The tamed dog's final whimper were deafening in Chlo's mind. Chlo fumbled to her feet, nearly slipping on her peg leg.

Brownbeard had gone mad with a thirst for bloody revenge, charging the Beast. The blue-faced Captain all but ignored 'im, though, reaching out her arm for Cap'n Maximus' throat. Seeing her beloved hoisted by the throat, and seeing the Crown clatter to the deck, Chlo had no time.

She drew her flintlock musket, hands trembling, and fired her sidearm in a flash.

She missed.

The shot had struck not the Monster, but Brownbeard, who'd been wrestling with her.

Chlo had shot 'im, right in the chest. Poor bastard.

Everything slowed to a stop.

Everything turned black.

Then everything turned bright. Sunny.

Sand. Seagulls. The sound of waves hitting a shore. The scents of rotting whales, salty sea air, and liquid metal.

There he lay, sprawled against concrete, at her feet. Pompidou was just as quiet, just as still, beside him.

Pools of dark red were forming beneath them.

Everything was dead silent – but the sound of the gunshots still rung in Chloe's ears.

She looked down at the gun she'd just fired. Her wrist was still sore from the kickback.

Chloe gawked at her hand, dumbfounded. Confused.

This was all a dream, right? It had...just been...-

"Oh no..." came Max's petrified whisper. "Chloe..."

If Chloe was still dreaming...why did this feel so different from any dream she'd ever experienced?

The words tumbled out from her mouth, involuntarily, acknowledging her understanding of what had just happened.

"I just shot a man...and his dog..."

The two girls gaped at the corpses before them, stunned and shocked.

Her stomach turning from the smell of the fresh blood, Chloe just couldn't...stop staring.

"I killed Frank Bowers..."

"You saved my life, Chloe. Ih-...It was self-defense for both of us."

Chloe kept...staring.

Is this...real? This didn't happen...

It-...It sure as fuck looks like it happened...

I killed them.

This is...just some fucked up nightmare...

I'd never do that. Not really.

I just did do that. Really.

If this was a bad dream, Chloe...wasn't waking up. And her body had a mind of its own.

"Max..." Chloe uttered shakily. "Frank is really dead..."

"I know," Max sighed with fret. "But we can't stop now." Chloe, in a stupor, followed Max to the crumpled heap that used to be Frank. "We have to find that code. Fast."

It was like Chloe was in some hypnotic state, groping and patting at the fresh body's pantlegs as if not in control of herself.

She sputtered in a daze, "Before the cuh-…cops…come…"

But the sheet of folded paper from Frank's jacket was…weird. Felt more like parchment. Chloe unfolded it.

It was…a treasure map?

Rachel's lipstick marked the spot.

The fuck?

Chloe choked and coughed, her chest feeling that sharp pound of fear when the brain has to remind the heart that what it's dealing with isn't real.

She awoke from her sleep in that stinging, startled state, feeling pretty stupid and frustrated for having let her brain dwell on any of it seriously. She tried to lift up her hand, flex her fingers…

The grip of a pistol, the aching from its fierce kickback still felt…tangible. Fucking real. Like she'd just lived it. Could dreams even do that to the body? It was like…a memory, but one Chloe knew was impossible – Max had made her toss her gun aside that day.

Chloe's eyelids were wide open, but her vision blurred for a moment, hazy and maroon at the edges. Her head pounded briefly, but intensely, and the world around her put itself in place. Like a hand washing blood off of a fresh tattoo, revealing the image proper. Thankfully, the pain in her hand had by then subsided.

The living room – the unfamiliar one that Joyce and David now had – was washed with the white light of a cloudy midday, pouring in through the wide glass sliding doors. Heh. They'd made a point to keep that feature around, anyway. And through the window, from her position on the floor, Chloe could see a squirrel scurrying in the backyard, its cheek puffed.

There was a sudden pressure against Chloe's stomach from above, and she realized this was the reason she'd coughed awake. Startled, she quickly realized it was her mother, poking at her with her foot as she carried a pair of coffee mugs.

"Rise an' shine, Chloe," Joyce said, her voice a bit scratchy and dulled from all of her therapy, but still glowing with that old warmth. There was a glimmer to her scarred face that touched Chloe right against her sternum, a sudden and strong shot of...something, which she couldn't describe, that always swelled at the sight of her mom, and made her fret that tears would form. Gratitude? Maybe? Sympathy? Some mixture of too many complicated things, but things which Chloe was glad she'd found herself receptive to feel.

"Hey," Chloe eked out, rubbing at her eyes and pushing her half bush of hair behind her right shoulder. "Didn't wake you last night, right? I know it...bugs the shit outta David."

"Nah, the Darlin' slept like a log through the night," Joyce assured, placing the two mugs on a tin tray on the coffee table. Joyce then took note of the snoring woman sprawled out on the couch in a rather uncomfy-looking fashion. "Yer friend musta been pretty tuckered out...Hasn't stirred at all this whole mornin'."

Oh, shit. Stella.

Chloe suddenly remembered...all of the weirdness from the night prior. Max had...done something to Stells. Something that made the poor chick pass out after mumbling crazy talk for a couple minutes.

What if whatever Max had done had...somehow caused Chloe's bizarro dream, too? It had felt so different from her other dreams at the end, there.

It was...almost like some of Max's 'Crazy' was...leaking out to people around her.

Was that why Chloe and Stells could see Max's 'double-moon' the night before, but Victoria couldn't?

Chloe scrambled to her knees, the slightly deflated air mattress she was on bobbing her around and creating a lot of difficulty for her attempt at rising.

"She OK?" Chloe asked quietly, hesitantly.

"Seems to have quite a snore," Joyce chuckled softly, smiling down at the young woman. "Poor thing's had a couple coughin' fits across the mornin'. But otherwise, seems well enough to me. Didn' know I was meant to be nursin' over her. What'd ya'll do last night? Why'd she end up crashin' here?"

"Juh-…Just got dinner at the truck-stop by the edge of town, um…Sh-she was just super wiped and…didn't feel good letting her drive out so late, I-I dunno. Sorry I didn't ask. Didn't wanna wake you guys."

Chloe, fumbling on her knees against the living room carpet, realized that she could, in fact, hear Stella's snores. Whew. OK. So, uh...alive. That was, ya know...kinda good. Stella had some musty kind of blanket draped over her – the kind parents always seemed to have stashed over the edge of a couch. This one had ranch-esque patterns with wolves on them.

When Chloe was an older person, she'd get similar blankets, but they'd have, like...Pokemon and Adventure Time shit on 'em, or something.

"No need to apologize, Chloe," Joyce assured, giving her daughter a firm squeeze on the shoulder with one hand, and sliding her a coffee mug across the table with the other. "I know ya'll are close, an'…from what I've heard, yer friend could use some family comforts now and again. It's not a bother."

Chloe was treated to a warm smile from her mother's ragged face. It was calming. She'd forgotten how calming it could be.

"Thanks, Mom," Chloe sighed out, mustering a smile in return.

"Now you drink up. Best wake your friend soon, before her coffee gets cold. We've got a...difficult day ahead."

"Mm..." Chloe took a sip – strong, black, with some sugar. Nice pick-me-up. She savored the scented vapors slowly rising from the mug for a moment, then checked her phone.

[12:41 PM]

Yikes. Afternoon already?

And anyway...where was her Max?

Chloe scanned the living room. Max was gone. She felt a brief sting of panic just on sheer instinct, given the past week.

"Yer fiancé went with David to go pick up groceries," Joyce called from the kitchen island, having noticed Chloe's confusion. The way she'd started the sentence carried a nice little...sense of pride to it. Joyce had seemed happier than anyone when she'd heard the news of their engagement. That was a good sign, right? Even David had seemed pleased, though Chloe had never gathered the courage to ask why he'd changed his mind on things.

Chloe gave herself a few moments to drink up her coffee. The previous day? It had been long.

That day? It would also be long, but in very different ways.

Chloe went to take another sip of her coffee – but was taken aback when it smelt of...rotting fish. Confused, she reeled her head back. The sounds of the beach were...strangely loud, all of a sudden. But the windows were closed.

Chloe felt a sting of fear prick at her heart. The way her dream had ended...and whatever this was – whatever had happened to Stella – was it what Max had been dealing with? Weird...creepy shit where reality wasn't, like...functioning properly? Had things gotten so bad that timespace was, like...falling apart, or...-?

"Gwwooooff...-"

Chloe was yanked from her sci-fi thrilled meandering at the sound of Stella groaning with half-awake pain.

"Stells." Chloe's whole form practically perked up like a dog.

"Chloe…?" Stella was rubbing at her eyes with one hand, groping the other around for her glasses.

Eager to alleviate her friend's problems, Chloe fumbled her way to the coffee table, dinging her knee on its corner ("Ffffuck-!") as she grabbed Stella's narrow glasses and passed them over.

With a yawn and a cough, Stella shoved her long bangs up and swooped them back over her head, tying them back drearily. Pushing errant strands out of her sight, she whimpered tiredly, staring at Chloe with a strange expression.

Stella's nose started to bleed.

Before Chloe could so much as say a word…-

Chloe's nose started to bleed, too.

Her heartbeat escalated sharply, her stomach went empty – butterflies spun around in her gut – and she quickly yanked tissues from out of the box on the table. She was in such a panic she knocked the box over.

She shoved one tissue into her leaking nostril and gave the other to Stella, who was pretty confused and zoned out – Chloe asserted the damn tissue into Stells' bloody hole, plugging it up.

Stella coughed through her confusion, then gawked at her trembling hand.

Droplets of blood.

Fucking…fuck.

What the hell was going on? What had Max done? That had to be it, right? The two moons, Stella passing out…whatever Chloe had just experienced in her damn sleep, even…

It had to do with the Rewind, Chloe just…didn't understand how, or…or why.

Chloe and Stella were both dopily staring at each other, a mutual fright in their faces.

Joyce stepped into the room, causing Chloe to hastily pull the tissue out of her nose and clean her upper lip with her own saliva-dampened thumb.

"Chloe, I could use your help with th...-"

Joyce trailed off at the sight of her daughter and houseguest finagling with bloody tissues. There was a heavy silence as Chloe shakily got up on her feet and scrambled to clean up the reddened tissues. As Chloe snuck by her mother to the kitchen, eager to dispose the waste, Joyce gave her a stern glare, which could be felt burning into the back of Chloe's skull.

"There somethin' ya'll need to tell me about last night?" And there was the good ol' judgmental tone Chloe knew so well. "Swear to God, Chloe, there better not have been any crack in my house, or I will-"
"No, Mom, juh-...Fuck, jesus, what do you...-?"

Chloe was hurt at the accusation. Maybe a little warranted given some of her fuck-ups over the years, but still. She couldn't even recall the last time she'd even looked at cocaine.

"It's my allergies, Ma'am," Stella plainly cited, lying through her teeth. Her voice sounded a little raspy. "The air up here, it's...messing with me, I don't-..." She shook her head warily. "Y-you know, air pressure and all that. Chloe was just helping keep me from...spilling my insides all over your couch..."

Chloe took a deep breath and steadied herself, tossing the dirtied tissues into the plastic wastebin in the kitchen.

"...Ah," Joyce eked out with a bit of remorse. "Ya poor thing, no wonder ya been coughin' up a storm."

"Yea," Stella chuckled warily, clearing her throat up. "Sucks pretty bad...Sorry to...make a mess..."

Shoving her half-mane of disheveled bed-head over her shoulder, Chloe slunk back toward the living room, her head shrinking into her shoulders.

"Chloe," Joyce sighed out irritably. "You could at least clean yer hands after what ya been touchin'..."

Chloe skidded to a stop, her socks sliding along the waxed wooden floor.

"Right," Chloe grumbled bitterly, sulking to the sink. Running hands through a gentle stream of cold water, she sarcastically groaned, "Wouldn't wanna leave any traces of crack on my fingers, huh?"

"Aw, Chloe," Joyce sighed out, trying to reach an arm out. "I-I'm sorry, Hun, I didn't-..."

Drying her hands off, Chloe's gut instinct was to jerk the contact away, blow Mom off, use the unnecessary accusation as a social power play to get Joyce off her back for fucking once.

But her Mom's hand against her shoulder was dry, soft, and warm. Chloe stopped herself. She looked up to her mother's scarred face. The veiny wrinkles and warped skin was always a pain in Chloe's chest to confront, but they'd healed up decently enough over time. And Joyce's eyes, her smile, that loving concern could shine through any scar.

"It's OK," Chloe assured her remorseful parent, giving her Mother a hug. "I know it's...a tough day, and us just...dropping in on you so late with a plus-one, and...-"

"I never see you," Joyce whispered longingly, easing Chloe's head down upon her shoulder. "It-...It's difficult to...remember you ain't a little girl anymore."

"I know I sure as hell don't help that," Chloe joked with a soft chuckle, which was reciprocated.

"Just seems ya'll been gettin' mixed up with some dicey folks lately," Joyce explained as their hug broke.

"...Huh?" Chloe was puzzled by Joyce assuming such a thing.

"Wh-..." Joyce paused, her brows furrowing a bit as she contemplated. "Well, Max was...tellin' me 'bout yer...altercation last night."

"What?" Chloe sighed with some frustration, rubbing her palm up against her forehead. What was Max's fucking deal, yapping about crap like that? Joyce had her own problems, and Chloe was well-equipped to deal with hers and Max's. The two did not need to mix. "Mom, we...handled it. Just because...some prick was harassing us, doesn't mean we're gonna up n'...start doing drugs overnight."

From the coffee table, Stella sipped at the mug Joyce had left her.

"My brother's difficult to deal with, and he's...maybe lost his way a bit," Stella cited, keeping things rational and calm with a dose of white-lying on the side. "But I promise you, Ma'am, I would never let Chloe or Max get involved with that sort of shit. Er, stuff."

Joyce smirked a bit and took a deep, steadying breath.

"We're all adults here, it ain't like I never heard a cuss before." She ran her hand against Chloe's scalp, straightening out her daughter's bed-tangled hair a bit. "'Specially not with this terror havin' been under my roof."

Chloe absorbed the affection from Joyce like a sponge, but managed to not let it show. Mom never...did little intimate gestures like that. Chloe had never known she'd appreciate them. Or maybe she wouldn't have back in her teen 'terror', but...it was kinda fuckin' nice these days.

"Now, then," said Joyce, heading for their stairwell. "Best ya'll drink up. I'll fix ya breakfast after a hop in the shower. David n' Max oughtta be back soon with groceries."

"Thanks, Mom," Chloe called up toward the stairs as Joyce vanished over them.

Still feeling a little light-headed, Chloe plopped herself down on the couch beside Stella, who'd curled her legs crossed and shoved her blanket into a clump over her lap.

The pair drank at their coffee a little in awkward silence for a few moments until they could hear the shower start upstairs.

"...Is this for real?" Stella murmured solemnly.

Chloe's throat stung as she swallowed a little too much in one gulp. She let her eyes carefully glance over, and Stella looked pretty dead-serious.

Chloe nodded simply, sullenly, intuiting what Stella was referring to.

"So I'm not hallucinating?" Stella confirmed.

"Wish ya were," Chloe breathed out tiredly, scratching at her ear. "Wish I could write off all this crazy shit as 'hallucinations.' But...-" She shook her head bitterly.

"The moon last night...and our nose bleeds just now – all of Max's fucking nose bleeds all the time...It's all connected. Isn't it?"

Chloe shrugged up one shoulder, taking another sip of her dark, sugary coffee. "Seems like it."

"How?"

In reply, Chloe shook her head slightly, eyes glazed over with doubt as a tired sigh seeped from her nostrils.

"And last night...-" Stella planted her palm against her forehead and sighed, staring down at her mug. "That-...What did Max do?"

Chloe paused, then cast her gaze sideways.

"Yea, I don't...actually know?" Chloe admitted, scratching at her ear. "To be honest, pretty sure even Maxie doesn't know, so...yea. Good luck figurin' that shit out."

"But you felt it, too, right?" Stells insisted, flicking up her wrist and looking back up. "In your dreams?"

Chloe's stomach wrinkled unpleasantly.

"Felt...what?" she mumbled, masking her fear with more coffee.

"Like you were somewhere you weren't...supposed to be, some place you never have been, only...only it felt real, felt like you totally had been there...and...-" Stella's words were getting hasty and excitable in a manic whisper. And Chloe was pretty damned uncomfortable that it sounded accurate to what she'd just experienced in her sleep. "And then boom, there she was, keeping us together, saving us from ourselves..."

"...Uh...you holdin' back the edibles on me, Buddo? 'Cuz I am all about that shit, but today ain't the day for it."

"You don't remember?" Stella puffed out impatiently. "It...it felt so...-"

"Strange?" posed Chloe darkly.

Stella nodded emphatically.

"Yep," Chloe dismissed with raised brows and a slight shake of her head. "Dreams are like that, my dude."

"So your dreams felt normal last night?" Stella cynically said, giving Chloe a critical glare. "And when you woke up, you didn't feel weird?"

Chloe really disliked the supernatural conspiracy theory direction this was going in. She loved her some sci-fi-fantasy theoreticals as much as the next Trekkie, but...this was so bizarre coming from Stells. She was the voice of reason of their little band of punk-nerds. Well, OK, Brooke was maybe more strict on technicalities. Whatever. Stella was definitely more on the side of science than magic, though. But here she was, seemingly convinced – and oh so quickly. Max had...done a number on her somehow, huh?

"You did," Stella decided, based on the awkward glint in Chloe's eye with her stoic silence. "Didn't you?"

"I don't think it's Max's fault that crazy bullshit is going on..."

"Is whatever the fuck happened to me last night 'not Max's fault', either?"

"She didn't...mean to...do whatever...-"

"What even happened to me? Like-...Like, physically?"

"Dude, I dunno, ya just...freaked out. Mumbled crazy-talk, n'...passed out."

"Oh." Stells' brows furrowed harshly. "That's...-" She trailed off, lost in her own head space.

"You had some kind of trippy dream?" Chloe asked, trying to guide the convo along.

"That's the thing, it was...more like this...-" Stella grunted with frustration, mashing her hands around some invisible tangle of...something. "W-well, like-...A memory, but also something happening in real-time. And it...it dragged on and on, like...forever, only...not forever...and...-"

"...Mm." Chloe shirked at the notion of admitting her own dreams, but...-

"And you were there, too," Stells pointed out, her tone taking a dark turn. She shook it off. "You even, like...you realized you were there. And Max, too. She helped me get...-" Stella slowed when she noted Chloe's puzzled skepticism.

"Um...Ooookay, Wendy, ya clicked yer ruby slippers n' showed back up here. But back in the Land of Oz, 'Dream Me' was self-aware?"

Stella nodded at Chloe's wide eyes skepticism. Chloe replied dully and sarcastically.

"Dreams, projecting self-awareness? Ain't seen that shit before..."

"I...-" Stells scanned Chloe's eyes with a deep, focused expression. It made Chloe feel weird. "Hm," she dismissed her own rambling. "N-nevermind, I just-...What did Max do? To cause this?"

"I thought she used her Rewind..."

"OK, but...but, I mean, after that, she...-! Wh-when we were asleep, she...-"

"What, you think Max messed with our dreams, or some shit?"

"Can she do that?" Stella panted out with some exasperation. "I-I mean, what if she doesn't even know she can? Isn't that...-? That's how superpowers work, isn't it? They grow. They evolve."

"Wh-? No, Stells, she can't...fucking...-"
"Oh, but she can Rewind time?"
"She's not part of the goddamn X-Men."
"But she can Rewind fucking time."
"...Ech. Yea. She can."
"Thanks, by the way." Oh. Pissy Stella. "For letting me know?"
"It ain't exactly the sorta crap ya just blab to anyone."
"After how long we've known each other, you don't trust me?"
"Dude, it's not my power – not my call."
"Oh, OK. So it's Max whodoesn't trust me. I feel so much better."
"N-no, Stells, she does trust you, she just...-"
"Then why has she kept this all a secret?"
"I-I don't know, she didn't want-"
"How many times has Max lied to me about this?"
"Dude...Stells..."
"I thought I was her best friend, and she's been lying, hiding this from me..."
"Don't...hold it against her, I mean, what would you-?"

"But it's not a surprise, right? Max lies all the fucking time, so..."
"Stells..."
"And now she has me wrapped in this – you think I like lying to your mom?"
"No…"

"She can time travel, and she's losing her goddamn mind, this is just...-"

"Stella, there's stuff going on you don't-"
"Maybe if you two fucking clued-me-in, I might-"

Joyce's steps creaked from the stairwell behind them, causing their intense if hushed conversation to come crashing to a halt.

"Sorry, sorry..." Stella was taking a deep breath, closing her eyes, and steadying herself. She mashed her fingertips beneath her glasses, rubbing at her blood-shot eyes with teeth grit.

Chloe decided to give the gal a second to let her brain play catch-up with everything.

"Everythin' all right?" Joyce inquired during her descent. Her head was wrapped in a towel, and she was in her bathing robe. She added in a quieter, concerned tone, "Sounded like ya'll were arguin'..."

Well. Couldn't get anything past Mom. Chloe used to...really hate that, but...more recently, it'd become something she respected.

"Uh, we...-" Chloe's jaw went agape. Her normal quick wit was...less than sharp that morning.

"I'm pissed at Max," Stella said with a startling bluntness. She sighed out a frustrated breath, whipping her blanket off and getting up from the couch.

"Mm," Joyce hummed knowingly, heading for the kitchen. "That girl has been actin' odd lately, ain't she?"

Chloe's stomach lurched. 'Actin' odd?' The hell did Max do now? The idea of…Max not being all there, and that 'Other' personality…being around her Mom?
It made Chloe's skin crawl.

Stella meandered to the kitchen, and Chloe fumbled her way toward them. Said kitchen was suddenly quite crowded.

"What d'you mean?" Chloe asked cautiously, staring at her mother's back as the woman switched the stove on.

"Well, like what transpired the other night when ya'll went out partyin'," Joyce reminded. She said as an aside to Stella, who was poking in the fridge, "Would ya mind gettin' out the eggs for me, Hon?"

"Sure thing, Ma'am," Stella mumbled, fulfilling the request.

"Thank ya kindly."

"Mm-hm."

Stella resumed her fridge search, grabbing coffee creamer and heading back to the living room with it.

"Now, Stella," Joyce cited across rooms, cracking eggs as she spoke. "I know Max has her mood swings n' all, an' you've been a kind friend to see to her when she's gone awry, but it's OK to let yerself be upset now n' again."

"Mom, it's not Max's fault," Chloe grumbled – more like whimpered in defense.

"I didn't say it was," Joyce assured with a tender sigh, hoping to alleviate Chloe's temper before it ignited. She knew her daughter well – Max had probably helped teach the woman a thing or two about keeping Chloe from going off the rails too early in a conversation. Girl had enough experience at it by then...

"Then...-" Chloe trailed off uncertainly.

"I been married to David for how long now?" Joyce reminded. She finished cracking eggs and started stirring them about. "Everyone's got their dings n' their dents, their cracks n' their scrapes. Longer ya live, the more ya get." Stella re-entered with a creamed half-mug of coffee, and set the small jug back into the fridge door. Joyce went on. "Now, I know there's things ya'll ladies deal with that ya might never tell me. That's part of being yer own person, n' I can respect that. I ain't a fool – I know somethin's amiss with ya'll. Seems it ain't my business to be knowin' more, or else I'd know." Stella swapped wary looks with Chloe inbetween sips of her coffee. Chloe fidgeted with some split ends. "But I'll tell ya this: me n' David, we have our spats, same as anyone. Hell, we've almost cut ties more n' once. But I love that man, and I know I do, 'cause I've seen him at his worst, and at his best – and at the end of the day, I'm happy with that. When he's at his worst, I ain't afraid to call him out on it. Can't fix somethin' ya don't wanna admit is broke. When yer car starts leakin', ya best fix it, or you'll get stranded. It ain't fun, it might cost a pretty penny, but if you wanna get places? You're gonna get that car looked at. Get it fixed. Back on the road. Ya don't gotta enjoy it. Might get yerself all slick with oil. Ya might even be without a car for a few days...N' that's OK. That's parta livin'."

Chloe's half-awake brain was having a hard time following Mom's meandering metaphor. Analogy? One of those...

"What are you saying?" Chloe asked, creasing her greasy forehead with a yawn.

"She's saying Max needs to see a doctor," Stella murmured with a bitter sigh, staring into her coffee and avoiding Chloe's eyes.

"She already did," Chloe puffed with exasperation. "That made it worse."

"Agh, I'm sorry, ladies," Joyce bemoaned, scrambling the sizzling eggs before her. "I fear I fell off track with what I was sayin', mighta lost ya'll halfway. What I'm tryin' to get at is that it sounds like somethin' with Max's gone n' broke itself. That feelin' of frustration?" She glanced at Stella, shuffling the eggs around. "Don't run from that, Hon. Yer feelin' that 'cause you love your friend, and she's hurt you. Let that feeling happen, 'cause Darlin', it's gonna get you to do somethin' about the problem. That fire in ya don't come from nowhere, it comes from love – that's why it burns so hot. I'd be surprised if you ain't seen this daughter o' mine get herself steamed up over what she cares about. And I can tell ya, David is the same way. It's all about lettin' that passion change things for the better. Sometimes, ya just gotta take a minute n' sort out how, before ya do somethin' ya regret. Now, git me a plate, please, would ya?"

Chloe obliged, and as she did so, the front door came cracking open, followed by the rustling of groceries.

"Ya sure?" David was grunting behind him.

"Y-yea," Max huffed back, her arms laden with bags. She was pretty adorable, struggling to bring in too much for a single load.

Chloe set down a plate for her Mom before making way to aide in the grocery effort.

As bags were set down on the kitchen floor, David took a deep breath and took a load off for a brief moment to receive a kiss from Joyce.

"Just in the nick of time," Joyce said with a warmth reserved for her husband.

"He has a knack for that," grunted Max slyly, trying to unsling her bags from her shoulders. The kitchen was already too crowded, so she tried to lean them against the entrance hall's wall, but- "Oop...-!"

One of her bags tipped over, dropping out a bag of grapes. A single grape popped off the stem, rolling off along the floor, apart from the rest.

Max was weirdly transfixed by it, frozen in place.

Chloe, having set down her own bags, balanced the fallen produce back into place. A nice, fat bunch of grapes. Slightly different shapes, slightly different skins, slightly different hues, each one its own individual fruit, but all...still grapes, and...all...connected to the same...stem.

"Uh...-"

Stella, who had rounded her way into the living room, had picked up the separated grape, and was gawking at it, confused.

The three girls all paused, exchanging odd glances as Stella cautious walked over to Chloe, and handed the dirtied grape to her. But they all paused yet again, transfixed.

Why the fuck had all their brains went adrift at the same time, over the same...inanimate object?

Maybe Stells was right – maybe something batshit strange was going on because of Max...

"Everything kosher out here?" David wondered, apparently concerned by the silence.

"Juh-...Just a sour grape, heh," Chloe mumbled, reclaiming her autonomy from their mutual brain freeze.

"Frrrrom the floor," Max specified awkwardly, taking the grape from Chloe and dunking it in the kitchen's trash bin. "It was-...Uh-...I dropped it. Sorry."

David gave pause at Max's reaction. He swapped dubious looks with Chloe, who smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

"Mrs. Madsen," said Stella, who'd already wormed her way back into the kitchen. "Should I help put things away, or...-?"

"Nah, I think Chloe can handle that," Joyce said, slapping some bacon on the pan. The sizzle was delightful. "But I surely wouldn't turn down help making toast."

"Right," said Stella with an adorable sort of determination. "Just tell me what to do, Ma'am."

David peeled off his boots and set them by the front door, then trudged into the kitchen as Chloe went about unpacking the load he'd retrieved.

"There's, uh, some fresh coffee in the pot," Chloe pointed out with a tip of her head. Poor guy looked like he needed caffeine for the day ahead.

"Mm," David hummed and nodded his thanks, wiping his palm across his wrinkled forehead as he found his way around.

Chloe was ready to put things away, but...there...was no way to get at the cupboards, or the fridge.

"I got it," Stella offered, taking the milk and orange juice off the floor and squeezing them into the refrigerator.

Joyce was cooking, Stella was opening a loaf of bread, and David was trying to get coffee into a mug.

"I'll, egh, give you guys a minute, there," Chloe announced, awkwardly whisking herself away.

Where was Max?

An irrational fear latched onto Chloe's heart in that instant.

What if Max was off doing something stupid again? Making a phone call she shouldn't be making, being nosy and poking around private things...What if Max wasn't...her Max, right then?

Chloe scanned the living room. Nope. Hallway, no, backyard, no – door upstairs closing! Ah.

Chloe scampered in pursuit, taking note that the bathroom door was closed.

She knocked twice.

"Occup-"
Then entered.

"-ied!"

The look on Max's face was priceless.

Or, you know...Price...full. Because...Chloehad entered, and so...-

"Chloe, jesus...-!" sputtered Max as Chloe oh-so-stealthily closed the door behind her. Max was covering her under-regions with her arms, hunched over with a grouchy look, cheeks red like a stoplight.

"Dude," Chloe whispered with offense. "Not like I ain't seen it all before." She paused, then added even more quietly (and smugly), "Or, ya know, had my tongue all up in it..."

"Aaaand good morning to you, too," Max breathed out through a soft chuckle of aghast amusement.

Max's eyes rolled so far back, Chloe knew this Max was the 'real deal'.

Her Max.

"Mm-hm," Chloe hummed softly, brushing up brown and red bangs and planting a specifically delicate kiss on Max's forehead. She let her fingertips linger, sliding their way down Max's cheek. "How ya doin', Bebb?"

"...Not with that again," Max whimpered quietly, jokingly.

"Let's see – ya got 'Bebb,' 'Babe,' 'Buddo,' or...whatever variant, pun, and-slash-or pop-culture reference with your name in it you're in the mood for. I was thinkin'...maybe something from the 80's?"

"Chloe..." Max leaned her face into Chloe's palm with an aching sort of longing.

"Or...-" Chloe dribbled out words with a playful disappointment. "I could...just...stick with 'Max' for today..."

Max twisted her head just enough to kiss Chloe's hand before going back to nuzzling it some more. Chloe let this tender moment have its way before getting on topic, setting a gentle tone to her question.

"Sooo...we gonna, like...talk? About last night? At all?"

Max, whose eyes were already closed, scrunched up her face with dissatisfaction.

"Something happened," Chloe noted plainly. "Something different."

"Yea," Max agreed.

"Stella knows," Chloe advised.

"That was the goal..."

"We're...both kinda worried about you..."

"Me, too..."

"Like, worried worried."

"Also me."

"And, um-...There's...also...-" Chloe fidgeted with her fingers behind her back.

"What?" Max wasn't ready to hear about recent...developments, huh?

"M-maybe we can dish later, when you're...not as...-"

"Out of it?"

"Well...yea..."
"I don't...think this is just gonna go away, Chloe...Something's broken."
"Right."
"It needs to be fixed. We – … I need to be fixed..."

"Ideas...?" Chloe tentatively asked through nervously clenched jaws.

"None."

"Plan of attack?" Chloe shrugged.

"None," Max whispered, her voice cracking into a sob. Her hand found its way up to her face.

Chloe stroked Max's hair as she let her fiance cry a little. She desperately longed for words, something to say that would help Max feel...OK about this whole mess.

But the fact was, Chloe was not OK with this. She had no words.

-knock, knock, knock-

"Hey," came Stella's voice from the other side. "Everything...all right in there?"

"Yea," said Chloe, appreciating their friend's disconnected presence.

Even when Stella wasn't there, it was like she was...still there.

"It's, uhh...-" Stella cleared her throat nervously. "It's not like last time, is it?"

Huh?

Ah, yea...In Stella's bathroom, at their apartment. A few days ago. When Max was all throwing up and bleeding, and...-

"I'm OK," Max sighed. She grunted a bit.

-plunk-

"Poopin' like a champ," Chloe joked weakly, giving Max a humble back pat.

Max sighed, shaking her head with a facepalm.

"Are you OK?" Max checked with Stells, lifting up her head and opening her eyes.

"I'm...-" Stella hesitated. "I'm not sure. Am I OK?"

That skeptical bitterness revisited Stella's tone – like, as soon as she knew Max was OK, she wasn't going to let her off the hook. Chloe had been on both ends of that crap. Tricky line to walk, and she'd yet to see Stells walk it.

"I'm sorry," Max eked out pathetically.

"I know," Stella replied warily.

"I meant to...tell you, I just...-"
"Don't," Stella pleaded. "I don't want to hear it. You kept a secret, and now it's out."

"I never wanted to hurt you," Max insisted. "Please believe me..."

"That part, I believe," Stella sighed.

"Ladies?" Ah, great. Mom was ascending. "Breakfast is almost ready...More like brunch at this rate."

"OK," Max called.

"Sounds good," said Stella, her politeness having waned off. "We'll, um...be down in a minute."

"Now, what is goin' on with ya'll?" Joyce grumbled, having reached the second floor. "Where's Chloe?"

"In here, Mom."

"Chloe," Joyce sighed. "You could at least give the poor woman some space to herself in the restroom, for chrissake."

"Ih-It's fine, Joyce, I'm-...I'm not feeling so well, and...-"

"Awh, yer still feelin' lousy with the bug from yesterday?"

"I guess," Max moaned in reply, feeling her own forehead as if to test for temperature.

"Ya'll are worryin' the crap outta me," said Joyce with a disgruntled puff of hot air. Right up by the door now, she advised, "Darlin', if you're ill, ya need liquids and rest, not an audience."

"Sorry, Joyce," said Max with some self-deprecation.

"And Chloe, git yer ass outta the restroom and put away the groceries – please? They're gonna spoil."

Chloe had so much bigger things to be dealing with than fucking groceries...

Grumbling to herself, she exited the bathroom.

"Frozen veggies ain't gonna melt after, like, two minutes, dude."

"I am you mother, not your 'dude,' and please don't start a fight with me on today of all days, Chloe."

"OK, OK, sorry," Chloe conceded, the self-awareness practically leaking out of her ears as she apologized. "I'm sorry," she added more authentically as she trotted down the stairs. She caught Stella smiling sympathetically out of the corner of her eye.

Joyce gave Chloe another small hug and pair of them sighed into each other's ears.

"Uhm," Stella cleared her throat. "Whhh-...Uh, is there anything else I can do to help?"

"A-actually," came Max from the other side of the door. "Stella, could you, like...just sorta...hang out for a few minutes? I'm gonna...grab a shower, but...just in case something...happens, um...-"

Stella and Chloe's worried eyes connected for a moment.

"Sure," said Stella to Max, whilst staring at Chloe, who nodded slightly.

Joyce checked, "You sure yer still gonna be feelin' up to going?"

"Y-yea," Max insisted. "Even if...Chloe has to carry me...we're still going."

A small smile formed on Joyce's face, which found its way to Chloe's glance.

"Sounds like you've been volunteered," Joyce teased, easing Chloe along toward the stairs.

"She knows I can do it," Chloe bragged casually, flexing her bicep a bit. She might not've been happy with her beer belly, but at least she'd been able to beef her arms up a little.

As the mother and daughter duo trekked down the stairs, Chloe could hear the kitchen sink running – David was cleaning up some plates and mugs for their impending brunch. The scent of Joyce's breakfast food was music to her nose.

"Chloe," Joyce whispered, "a word?"

She led them to the backyard, sliding the glass door behind them. The weathered wooden porch was rough against Chloe's bare feet, and she worried about getting splinters.

"What is goin' on with ya'll?" Joyce asked discreetly, sincerely. "I believe you, Hon, that you ain't on somethin' ya shouldn't be – but I've caught you in too many lies to not know when somethin's amiss. Now, what in God's green earth is goin' on with Max? Huh?"

Chloe was paralyzed her Mom's frigid resolve in this matter.

"I'm-...I'm not lying, we're-...She's not on anything, it...-"

"Chloe, I ain't gonna bitecha. Just shoot straight with me."

Chloe couldn't help but smirk.

The joke seeped out through a childish grin: "Uh, sorry, Mom, I'm...not exactly good at shooting straight..." She flashed her engagement ring with a teasing shrug.

Joyce smirked with half her lip – the more scarred half – and shook her head slightly.

"Cute," she murmured. "But I ain't a fool, child." She clamped her hand against the base of Chloe's neck, pressing her forehead against her daughter's. "Now, I can't help if I'm left in the dark, here..."

Chloe bit her bottom lip, squinted her eyes shut, and sighed remorsefully.

"I know," she whimpered, gripping her Mom's hand and squeezing. "I'm not...trying to hide anything from you, it's-...It's just-...There's not anything you can do about it, really, it's...something me n' Max gotta figure out on our own. Like-...OK, so, like, stuff David had to work through? That-...There wasn't anything I could do to help that, ya know? This is...like that. Sorta. Basically. I don't...-" Chloe trailed off, shaking her head with doubt as her eyes welled up with tears.

"I understand, Darlin'," Joyce assured. "Just promise me that you're gonna look after yourself in all this, too. I love Max like my own, but...you are my own. She needs you, and that's beautiful of you to be helpin' her out, just-...Remember you ain't alone, here."

Chloe fed on her mother's tender contact for a couple moments, receiving a supportive kiss on the forehead, and more scratching against her neck.

There was a surreal pain throbbing in Chloe's chest for a moment as she absorbed the sight of her Mother's scarred features – knowing that, in some way or another, they could've been prevented, but hadn't been, for her sake.

But then...Max seemed to have been pretty scarred, too, for Chloe's sake. Just in ways that hadn't been so plainly visible until recently.

Joyce's face would never fully heal, but...her Mother had never been more beautiful in her eyes than she had in recent months – in that very moment. It was weird how Chloe had never gotten along with her Mother growing up – and yet she was closer to her now than she'd ever been while living in the same roof.

Families were weird. And hers was only gonna get bigger and weirder as the Caulfields and the Madsens merged in the months to come.

"I know Max's been a good influence on you, Chloe, but don't think for a minute I ain't proud of who you're becomin' – who you are. No matter what anyone else says or does, you make the choice yerself to step up, be a woman, and I've adored seeing it happen. And I know – oh, I know – David ain't the best at showin' it, but...he's said as much himself, too."

"Really?" Chloe believed her. It was just...weird to think on that idea. At least she and David weren't at each other's throats anymore.

Joyce nodded, letting their moment dissolve into the midday autumn air, carried away on a chilly, rain-scented breeze.

"Now, c'mon," Joyce said softly, giving Chloe's back a brisk and encouraging rub. "I know that bacon's been taunting ya since you walked downstairs."

"You know it."

The plaque was cold to the touch, its metal surface reflecting a cirrus sky, with a bronze-glazed ocean as its backdrop. The rock the plaque was embedded into was damp and smooth, sturdy and strong against the salty wind. All those names etched into its metal surface...

Names Chloe had never heard.

Names she recognized.

Names that sounded familiar, but...had no faces in her mind.

The Arcadia Bay Memorial was always sobering to look at. Each and every time. This was the fifth time.

It rested at the cliff's edge, beside the ruins of the old lighthouse, which had deteriorated over time. Recovery funds had been invested into more important assets for the town, and so the old lighthouse had been left to ruin and wither.

Right there, where that memorial stood – it was more or less the same spot Max and Chloe had stood.

Stood and watched as the Storm took all of those listed lives.

Chloe removed her hand from the plaque, and somberly watched Max run her fingertips up and down its surface – grazing each and every name, her lips mouthing syllables silently.

Chloe wondered – had Max committed them all to memory?

It had been sprinkling a bit, but...then it started to rain.

Of course it started to rain...

Chloe pulled up her black umbrella and shielded herself and her woman from the pattering droplets. The sounds of so many umbrellas casting themselves up was humbling.

There'd been a bigger crowd gathered than Chloe had figured would show up. Bigger turnout than any other time they'd come to this. People always...made a bigger fuss with annual divisions of 'five,' didn't they?

Max's hand trembled in Chloe's as they reconnected, moving on from the memorial and letting Joyce and David pay their respects next. They met up with Victoria, Brooke, and Stells, but no words were spoken between them. Just quiet, wary nods and gestures.

As the pair carefully worked their way toward the gathered crowd, Chloe let herself drink in Max's appearance.

She had her red and brown hair tied into a bun, accented by an elegant little woman's hat. Her nose stud was on, with a pair of understated red earrings. She had a light black vest-...shawl? Well, it was cute. And so was her dress.

Chloe's dress felt...less elegant. Maybe her pudgy stomach bulging out wasn't helping...She was happy with her hat, though – she'd stuck a bright blue feather in it, in remembrance of Rachel. Just because black was the color of the day didn't mean everything had to be black.

By the cliff's bench – which had been replaced recently with a new one – a man was giving a speech.

The bench was being dedicated to the memory of Kate Marsh, from what Chloe had been told.

She couldn't bring herself to fully tune in to the man's words, but she assumed it was Kate's father. Max would probably have a fit if she knew Chloe didn't recognize him. She'd never had a chat with the man, how would she remember him? Fuck, there were probably people there she'd attended Blackwell with that she couldn't plant names on.

Names – even ones etched into a memorial – didn't really mean much to Chloe.

Names meant reminders. Reminders meant pain.

Maybe that was why she was prone on exchanging names for false ones all the time.

Even with Maxine Caulfield.

Losing herself in these bitter thoughts, Chloe realized she was totally zoning out on what the man before them was saying about Kate Marsh. What a good, sweet, 'godly' girl she had been...

It was the usual sort of thing you'd expect: depressing. Saddening. Sobering.

And a cold reminder of Chloe's own part in Kate's self destruction.

Chloe closed her eyes and let Max lean into her. She could hear Max's breathing get irregular from sniffles, feel her body shiver from the cold. Smell coffee, and bacon, and eggs, and...-

Wait – what?

Mixed with the rain, she could...hear the clattering of forks and spoons, like...-

"OK, Supergirl, let's go to my secret place!"

Chloe had just heard a voice, cutting through the rain, through the melancholic dedication speech.

A phone vibrated against Chloe's ears.

The voice – it was her voice?

"Don't even answer! We have places to go, and...people-to-do...Come on, before mom starts some more shit. Let's bail!"

The fuck was...-?

"It's...Kate Marsh, from Blackwell."

Chloe opened her eyes.

She was in the Two Whales. Staring at Max – a younger Max – gazing at her phone with a wary expression.

Chloe's mouth moved again, without her consent.

Each syllable stung. Burned with regret.

"Big whoop. You don't call me once in five years and now you're all over some beeatch you see every day at school? I see how you roll. So go ahead, chat up Kate Marsh from Blackwell. I've got other other people to hang out with, too."

Was this...a memory?

This was like her dream, only...she remembered this one.

Why was she dipping into La-La Land like this? There was Day-Dreaming, but this was like...unreal.

Chloe Price had experienced a nice trip or two in her time, but...this shit was unlike any of it.

She could feel the cold and clammy rain, even though the diner was dry and warm.

She could hear the drizzling rainfall with a speech, tired and sorrowful, but also trucker chatter.

She could still smell fresh water and ocean salt, and hash browns and ketchup.

Chloe closed her eyes.

She felt sick to her stomach.

When she opened them again, she was still standing, still in the rain, Max clutching to her arm, leaned against her.

Chloe felt a little dazed. She was used to getting a nice buzz, a nice high, but this was different. Whatever this was.

"Chloe! Now, where are ya'll sneakin' off to this time?"

Mom? She sounded angry.

"Dude, I haven't hung with Max in forever, just let me have some fun for once!"

Chloe's heart was starting to escalate in her chest, her vision blurring a little.

That motion sickness was really hitting her in the gut. Like when Max Rewound time, except...that sensation was usually fast and hard, this was...a slow burn nausea.

"'Fun' like gettin' high?"

"Fucking A, mom, David's fulla shit, it was just a cigarette."

This...argument with her mom...What was this?

It felt wrong. It felt just like her dream – something that had never happened, but...a memory, at the same time.

"Stop lyin', Chloe. And don't you go dragging poor Max down with you."

"What are you talking about? We're just gonna go chill somewhere..."

"Unlike you, Max is growin' up. She has classes, responsibilities. Don't hold her back."

"You worry too fucking much – jesus, can you get off my back for one goddamn day?"

"I am not gettin' into this with you at work, Chloe. Just go."

"Fucking finally."

"And stay outta trouble. For once?"

"Sure thing, Joyce..."

Chloe's chest swelled in a sharp breath as she regained her vision.

Max had shaken her, like stirring her from dozing off.

"Chloe...?" Max whispered into her ear. "You OK?"

Chloe blinked, rubbed her eyes, and rehooked her arm around Max's. The rain had intensified a bit. Now someone else was talking in front of the crowd, raising their voice to try and speak through the tumbling droplets.

"Hey." Max gave Chloe another nudge with another quiet quip.

"Mm," Chloe grunted beneath the rainfall, regaining her balance.

Soooo...

Was this the kinda shit Max had been dealing with?

Chloe could see how it could be a little...hard to stay focused, with this kinda bullshit going on.

"- in the face of such sudden losses, but here, from this very spot, we can cast our gaze upon this town. We can see the greater picture. We can see that despite such loss, there is still a plan. There is still an Arcadia Bay. My daughter wasn't...-" The man paused, wiping rain from his face. "She wasn't able to see that greater picture. We failed to show it to her. We let her down. I can...only hope that this memorial site can help others see the beauty of Arcadia Bay, while reminding us of how much loss it has suffered for it. Because th...wh. .. . if . … .. . .. . . "

"Why does everybody in my life let me down?"

Chloe's eyes had slid closed again.

She could hear herself – another memory, but so vivid, so detailed.

Frank Bowers' RV.

"My dad gets killed, you bail on me for years, my mother gloms onto step-fucker...Now Rachel betrays me..."

"Chloe, Rachel is missing. Nobody betrayed you."

"Bullshit! Who hasn't?! Fuck everybody!"

"Chloe!"

Jangling of keys.

Pelting of rain.

Revving of an engine.

Barking of a dog.

Ocean waves.

Sobbing.

So much sobbing.

Then Max's voice.

"Chloe, you can't keep blaming me and everybody for everything wrong in your life. It's so not fair."

"I gotta blame somebody. Otherwise, it's all my fault. Fuck that."

"Grow up. And I'm not trying to be mean, but you're not the only one in Arcadia Bay with problems. Kate Marsh killed herself, you know."

"Yes, Kate Marsh killed herself. She's dead. Such sad, OK? That doesn't make me feel better about my fucked-up life – get it?"

"So, who do you most want to blame?"

"My fucking dad, of course! Hello?"

A sharp sting of pain.

Chloe tried to open her eyes. She couldn't...move.

She could barely breathe.

Smoke. Heat. Burnt rubber, concrete...

Suffocating...She was suffocating.

Another pounding at her chest, another rush of nausea...

And Chloe was back on the cliffside, in the rain.

But the crowds had left. A trail of black umbrellas was filtering its way down the hill.

Wait, huh? Hold the fuck up.

Seconds ago, Mr. Marsh or whoever had just been...-

Chloe turned to Max, who was still attached to her hip.

"Wh-...?" Chloe uttered, baffled. "Max, is something...-?"

Max wasn't moving. Her grip on Chloe's arm wasn't...intimate, it was...constraining. Her eyes were glazed over, her lips slightly agape.

Chloe blinked.

And the instant she did, Max wasn't at her side.

And she wasn't on the cliff.

She was holding a gun.

In the junkyard.

She couldn't move, and yet...she was moving all the same.

Like sitting in the passenger seat, trying to step on the brake pedal, but...nothing was happening.

"Well, Max?"

Max gawked at the junkyard in a strange stupor. Her eyes were glazed over, her lips slightly agape.

"OK, you're too busy to help, so I'm gonna kill the car bumper."

-bang!-

The moment she pulled the trigger, Chloe's chest was slammed with a hefty force, knocking the wind right the fuck out of her. She felt...numb. Regaining her footing, everything seemed to move in slow motion.

She could...move again.

The driver had bailed out the door, and she'd...scrambled to take over the steering wheel. Slam the brakes. Steer sideways. Nothing did much of anything.

Then the pain hit. Her chest ignited with a searing pain unlike any she'd known, coming in frantic waves with each beat of her heart, pushing blood out of her.

Clutching at the hole in her torso, Chloe shrieked with startled shock.

"Jesus, I shot myself! Ungh, I shot myself!" Her legs buckled and she sunk to her knees, trying to process how the hell this could've happened, and what to do.

Max could undo it. Duh.

If she wasn't just staring blankly at Chloe.

"Back up, back up!" Chloe cried in a panic, suddenly nauseous.

Not Rewind nauseous, more like...holy-shit-I'm-bleeding-out-I'm-fucking-dying-GODDAMNIT-MAX-DO-SOMETHING.

"Stupid gun!" Max spat out. "Hold on, Chloe." And she stuck out her hand, reaching at the fabric of Everything, tugging it backward.

Chloe's nausea intensified, her head spinning in a daze. Her own grip on her chest was numbing,. She could barely hold up her arm, much less apply pressure to her wound.

But...nothing was changing. Wait, but then...if Chloe had experienced this, then...had Max actually Rewound it? Was this-...? R-right, she was just dreaming. Like before. She was in Arcadia Bay, at a memorial, in the rain. Not back here.

But shit, did this dream hurt.

Coughing on her own blood, watching it turn brown as it oxidized in the dirt before her, Chloe tried to plead with Max. But Max was knelt down, knees bent, balanced on her toes. She was just...staring. Not even at Chloe, more like...through her. And Max's nose was bleeding...

There was a chilling twinkle of curiosity in Max's eyes. It was dishearteningly familiar.

It was that Other Max. The one that remained when actual Max was elsewhere.

Max grabbed Chloe's chin, keeping her head upright with a dark, cynical stare.

"Fucking moron," Max uttered in an amused whisper, shaking her head. "Bullets and bottles of booze...The hell'd you expect, ya dumb bitch?"

She dropped Chloe's head, and Chloe fell.

She fell through the dirt. She fell through herself. She fell through Everything.

Stay down. Go to sleep. Good. Sleep.

That's it. Let it all out.

You know, I picked this moment. Just for you.

Do you like it?

You made this moment happen, after all.

Me? I didn't do anything. You did this to yourself.

So, then.

Look at this. Look at what you bring upon yourself.

Now? Think about what you've brought to others.

What do you think would happen if I let you live here, huh?

You'd just bring destruction to everyone around you.

Including me.

Including US.
including us
INCLUDING us
iNlUdInG uS

At least now this Max can live the rest of her life in peace.

This Arcadia Bay can rest in peace.

And so can this Chloe Price.
Like she was supposed to.

Speaking of 'supposed to'...

You know, I've been thinking on it a lot lately, and…-

Well.

This is all your fault, isn't it?

You're the reason all of this has happened.

If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be broken.

YOU BROKE US, CHLOE PRICE.

yOu BrOkE uS
BROKE us
fucking broke us!
chloe price broke us
BROKEN...

But.

Lucky for us – Max, that is – we have a way to fix things, right?

And I think I've figured out a way out of this shit.

Think about it: it'd be better if we'd never met in the first place.

No Chloe: no Rewind.

No Rewind: no bad choices.

No bad choices?

We get to be whole again.

WHOLE AGAIN

aGaIn wHoLe
please...!
make us whole again

It'd be good for you, too, you know.

Maybe your dad would still be alive.

You'd never need Rachel – so you wouldn't have that pain.

I know you have these assumptions about me, but...

I don't like seeing you in pain.

I don't like being in pain.

I don't like her being in pain.

Any of her

us

MAX.

I'm tired. We all are.

But pain is necessary to fix things.

necessary
FIX THIS
iT hUrTs

So.

If we never met, never became friends...

Maybe then we'd both be safe.

Both be happy.

Or at least not in so much pain.

Maybe then Max Caulfield would be whole again.

No Storm, no guns, no drugs, no death, no heartache, just…-

Oh.

Oh, you don't seem to like this idea, do you?

It's written all over your face.

Or maybe that's just you dying from an excruciating, self-inflicted gunshot wound. Hah.

Well, either way, don't worry.

Even if I find a way to prevent us from ever meeting...

It's not like you'd be able to tell, anyway.

Ignorance is bliss.

Am I right?

I learned that from you, after you.

Max's lips curled into an excited smirk.

And Chloe woke up.

"Chloe!" Max whimpered, tapping her damp palm against Chloe's cheek. "Chloe..."

Max was crying.

She was wiping blood from her nose.

Fuck.

Chloe's nose was bleeding, too.

"Mmm-..." Chloe coughed, phlegm and blood dribbling out of her throat and into the mud at their feet.

Max was shuddering and heaving sobs, trying to rub Chloe's back whilst protecting them with their umbrella.

"Max," Chloe croaked in confusion, her throat burning. Her vision was blurred, her guts felt tangled in a tight knot...she could barely tried to speak, but what came out was pathetic and squeaky. "It hurt, Max, why did...-?"

The pair of them clutched each other, bent down in the rain, shielded from the storm, but bleeding and coughing and choking...

"We need to be whole, Chloe," Max was sniveling into Chloe's shoulder. "I-I'm sorry, I'm not-...I can't...-"

Chloe, not at all prepared to even try to figure out what the shit was going on, pushed herself back up on her two feet. She had to drag Max up with her.

They were both off balance, bloody-lipped, teary-eyed, gripping each other to stand up straight in the mud and rain.

It was kind of scary, seeing and now feeling that whatever was wrong with Max, it was no longer just Max's problem.

"Mm-...Maxie?" Chloe winced, clearing her throat through the bitter wetness of everything around them.

"What happened, Chloe? What-...What did she do to do?"

Chloe swallowed a lump in her throat, sniffled, and nodded, wiping her wrist over her face to clear it up.

"She, um...-" Chloe coughed, trying to stand still and regain her bearings. Max, hands wrapped around Chloe's umbrella arm, was staring at her with dread. "I think she's...doing to me what-...what she's been doing to you..."

Max's eyes stung with fear. She sniffed, rubbed at her nose, and nodded sullenly.

Chloe added, "And it's happening to Stella, too, I-...I think."

Max's lips parted with confusion, her brows sinking critically.

"Wh-?...No, she can't just...-"

"Some serious Twilight Zone shit is going on with Stells – and if it's anything like what I just went through? Just now?" Chloe bit her lip and shook her head. "This is bad, Max..."

Max ran her palm up her face, taking a deep breath.

The rainfall hadn't let up at all. There were no signs it was going to anytime soon.

"So-...Well...-" Max shook her head, puffing out air in frustration and staring off at the ocean. She looked back to Chloe. "Can you describe it?"

"I-I dunno, dude, like...phasing...between two realities? I'm assuming?"

Max nodded bitterly, wiping her eyes.

"Shit," Max winced.

"Yea," agreed Chloe. "And...you know this...'Other' you? She, uh-...Do you know what she wants?"

Max, fingers digging into her forehead, groaned through her teeth in this frustrated way.

"No, she won't fucking-...It's like she doesn't even-...Urgh."

The tone in Max's huff, the way she flung her arms done with rage, it was...disconcerting.

"Max," Chloe said shakily. Her hand trembling against the umbrella handle, she contemplated whether what she'd seen, heard, experienced was...even credible. Even if Max's persona had somehow...cracked in half, why should she even believe the Other one?

"What did she show you?" Max asked hastily, suddenly, clawing at Chloe's wrists. "Did she try to scare you? Did she try...-?"
"Did I kihh-..." Chloe's voice caught.

Max's face contorted with confusion. Her grip on Chloe's wrists tightened. It hurt a bit.

"Max, back when-...Th-the day before the Storm? When we...whhhen we needed Frank's logbook, remember? Sid I...-?"
"Frank? What the fuck does Frank have to do with any of this?!"
"Did I kill him?" Chloe forced out the words.

Max's clammy cheeks turned a shade paler, and Chloe put one and on together.

"Chl-...? No, no," Max breathed with assurance. "The Storm wasn't...your fault, it was mine, I mean, I-"
"Not the fucking Storm, dude," Chloe pressed. "When we needed his book. On the beach. Did I shoot Frank and his dog?"

Max was trying to dodge the question.

Just like Stella had been complaining about. It was true – Max had a habit of saying what she thought the other person wanted to hear.

But Chloe had figured by that point in their relationship, Max would never do that to her.

"Chloe..." But she could see it in Max's eyes, clear as day. "No, we...talked with him, I-I mean, he was...upset, but we...got him to see reason, he-...Why are you bringing this up? What did she try and trick you into thinking?"

Max was lying.

"I did," Chloe concluded, baffled and in shock all over again. Palm over her mouth, she took a step away from Max, whose eyes began to quiver and water up.

"Chloe, n-no, you didn't, I'm tr-...She's trying to fuck with your head, she-...I've been doing-...Argh." Max sought shelter back under the umbrella, rubbing water from her hair with impatience. "She's been pulling this shit with me forever, don't...let her do this to us."

"I fucking killed a man and his dog," Chloe stated.

"You didn't!" Max pleaded.

"Because you went back to the fucking future on my ass," Chloe growled, shoving the umbrella into Max's hand and spinning around. She felt like she would choke on the tension, the stress of being confronted with this side of Max she thought had gone away. She nearly bumped into the guard rail at the cliff's edge.

Quite a drop, if she slipped.

Victoria, Brooke, Stella, all trying to tell her about Max lying to them, and she wouldn't believe them. She'd worked through her shit, she'd grown up, why the fuck was Max still pulling this high-school crap?

Max Caulfield was a people pleaser.

She'd bend the truth to make people happy.

Hell, she'd even bend fucking reality itself.

But it hurt more than anything else that had happened that day that Max doubted her – doubted them, doubted their love – to try bending things in an effort to keep things together between them.

Didn't Max know better?

Why was she so desperate?

Oh.

Well, duh.

Maybe because there was another her trying to break them up? Apparently?

Chloe leaned against the guardrail, her head light and spinning a bit. The rain was hammering down on her, weighing the right side of her head down with water-soaked hair. Her chest felt so tight, so tense.

She couldn't breathe steadily.

She could only watch the storm battered waves, so far below, pushing and pulling.

Max swooped over with their flimsy protection, struggling to keep it aloft. It would hold them through the rain, but they were getting drenched, anyway.

"Chloe," Max begged, tugging at Chloe's tattooed arm, trying to get her away from the cliff.

Chloe wanted to yank her arm out of Max's grasp. But she didn't.

Max squeaked, "You're gonna fall," tugging at her to back away from the edge.

Away from the enormous drop.

"What does it matter?" Chloe snapped. "So what if I fucking fall? Huh? You'll just...wave your magic hand – bam – all better. Right?"
"Don't...-"
"'N then you'll keep me in the dark about it."

"I-I just...don't see why it matters if it...didn't really happen, why are y-?"
"Maybe that's the whole fucking problem right now," Chloe barked, spitting out drenched hair strands from her mouth and shoving the slick mess of blue and purple out of her face. "It doesn't matter to you if it's not 'real,' right? So what happens when 'real' stops being easy to figure out?"

Max pressed herself against Chloe's back. There was that familiar, alluring sensation, heating her guts like embers when everything on the outside was cold.

"I-I'm sorry, Chloe," Max shuddered, her cheek against Chloe's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, I...didn't want to hurt you, O-OK? Please..."

The tightness in Chloe's chest was now gone, replaced with...an ache.

"You just want me gone," Chloe stated somberly, pushing them up from the guard rail.

"...What? The fuck? No. Chloe. No, why would I-"
"That's what the Other you told me."

Max blinked with narrowed eyes, her nose wrinkled as she tried to process Chloe's relayed message.

"She...told you that?"

Chloe turned herself around, pushing her body against Max's.

"She said if we'd never met, none of this would've happened..."

Max rubbed her hands across her face some more, distraught by the notion.

"Yea," Chloe spit out irritably. "So that's a reassuring thought."

"But-...I can't control-...She can't control my power. How would she even...-?"

"Hello?! Max, how the fuck is she...-?!" Chloe clawed her hand at her own face, writhing it around in frustration. "-...doing whatever she's doing to me? To Stells? Huh? Whoever – whatever she is, seems she's capable of more than you think, and it's creeping the goddamn fuck out of me, Max. I can't deal with this, not on top of everything else. I'm already scared shitless that you're losing it, now I gotta worry that I'm losing it, too?! Maybe you...really do need to see someone. Like, in a hospital."

There was a sploshing of footsteps, back tracking up the hill toward them. Probably David or something, coming to ask them what was taking so long...

"Ch-Chloe, please, we-..." Max sunk her face into Chloe's. "We'll work this out, I can't...go to a place like that, it wuh-...It won't help. We have to-...We need to stay together. I can-...I'll figure out how to keep her back. I-I mean, she can't do something like this – I won't let something like that happen to you. You're...the most important-...Please..."

Chloe sighed, embracing her fiance through the cloud of fear enveloping them.

She wanted to believe Max.

But over the prior five years, Chloe Price had gradually seen what power Max Caulfield was capable of. And even there, where they were, after everything, Max was still unsure of herself, of her own capability.

That day, Chloe had experienced first-hand just how much those powers had evolved since the days of Rewinding to land trick-shots on beer bottles.

Having your consciousness ripped out of your place in time, flung around like a dog shredding a teddy bear, then being spit back out into the present...

It was kinda terrifying.

"Guys!"

At the shout, Chloe's hands instinctively clenched around Max's body, then relaxed.

It was Stella. Her eyeglasses were all fogged up, and she tried to wipe them on her jacket sleeve.

She was out of breath, and looked desperate.

"Wh-What's up, Stells?" Chloe asked, her heart quickening with doubt.

Stella's nose was dripping out blood.

"I-I don't know, what did you do?" she panted and puffed, completely soaked without her own umbrella. Chloe eased Max along, who was still sniffling into her shoulder. Stella huddled alongside them.

"I didn't...mean to," Max was wincing. "I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to..."

She kept repeating it, over and over, under her breath.

"Did you...-?" Chloe started up with concern for Stella.

"It was fucking unreal, Chloe, did you...-?"

Chloe nodded hastily.

"How do we stop this shit?" Stella whimpered, flicking her wrists with rushed desperation.

"...I didn't mean to I didn't mean to I didn't mean to I didn't mean to I didn't mean to I didn't mean to..."

Max...clearly did not have answer.

Neither did Chloe.

"When I was younger I could remember anything, whether it had happened or not;

But soon I shall be so I cannot remember any but the things that never happened."

~ Mark Twain