Max did her best to ignore the barbed wire wending its way around her heart as she watched Arcadia Bay pass by. She was unable to resist asking Chloe to slow down as they passed by her old house. The new owners repainted it, from its previously understated hunter green to a more vibrant royal blue, and there was a fancy looking Prius in the driveway, along with a new playground set in the backyard. Grass that was fertilized within an inch of its life until it was unnaturally verdant for late autumn completed the aura of surreality surrounding her childhood home.

It's almost like it never happened; that there was never a family named Caulfield who lived in that house. And there wasn't a girl named Max, who spent thirteen happy years there. They just wipe it all out, like changing history.

The awkward silence grew heavier between Chloe and her. A couple of times, her friend made abortive attempts at small talk, but Max couldn't bring herself to follow through. It was a cruel paradox: she knew intellectually that she should be treasuring each and every second together that was left. At the same time, she couldn't bring herself to open up; the pain of potentially never seeing each other again, that each mile brought them ever closer to was becoming increasingly unbearable.

How can I just chat away, and pretend that my heart isn't breaking? Bad enough that I...I misunderstood what happened this morning?

She was still trying to make heads or tails of the "Kissing Incident" from earlier. What was that about? And what was Chloe trying to do? Was it just her playing around, or was there more to it? Max, bereft as she was of normal teenage social skills, could only analyze the situation with whatever psychological evaluation skills she possessed as part of her training.

Fat lot of good all that is doing me right now!

The fact that she was still hung up on the issue had to mean something, right? It wasn't like it was more than just a fractional pressing of lips together. Chloe made a dare, and Max figured that she didn't expect her to follow through. It caught her by surprise. That's all.

And yet...

Okay. Let's do a little thought experiment here. Just like all that 'mental simulation-slash-thinking outside the box' shit Davies and Reese taught you.

Max closed her eyes, and leaned against the passenger side window. She hugged herself tight before focusing her awareness inward.

Alright. So you're in the bedroom. Chloe is being all..

Cute? Gorgeous? A sight for sore eyes? With her tattoos and the blue-violet hair. Max couldn't deny how the last five years transformed her, from the playful yet studious blonde into the delightfully twisted but sadly cynical punk rock girl she was today. The way she cocked her hips, and how she didn't fucking care about what people thought about her...most of the time.

...she dares you to kiss her. And you do. So what happens Max? What happens if she doesn't back away?

She took a few deep breaths, and stilled the storm of thoughts raging in her brain as best she could, drawing upon the same sort of meditative mindset that she'd cultivated through all those years of Tai Chi.

Max let her imagination play the events out, working to separate her own 'active participation' in the thought exercise. She would let her brain do whatever the hell it naturally was inclined to.

Chloe doesn't pull away this time. She blushes though, before smiling against that sweet little kiss, and murmurs, "Wow! I-I didn't know you felt that way, Maxima. I mean, I kinda hoped..."

Their eyes meet. Unspoken tension hangs between them, like a tight and winding cord that binds the two of them together. Their second kiss seems far more natural. As well as the third. Chloe takes charge now, and Max feels those arms surrounding her, pulling her close, making her feel safe, and secure and...and...

There's not enough experience or detail, Max can't figure out exactly what happens next, but all she knows is that Chloe is trailing kisses down her neck, and throat. Hands are eagerly and insistantly rubbing her back. Max can smell her, and savor her warmth. She wants her shirt off. She want's Chloe's shirt off. She wants to trail her greedy, curious fingertips over the swell of her best friend's breast, bury her face against her neck and hair. She needs her, and she prays fervently that maybe Chloe needs her, almost as much, in return. And why shouldn't she? You like me, don't you Chloe? You 'like' me, like me? Why didn't you kiss me back? What don't I have that she did?!

Max jerked her eyes open, gasping sharply, lungs sucking in great amounts of air, as if she were drowning. The crystallizing, clarifying stab of her sudden epiphany reverberated up and down her entire body.

"Whoa, Max. You - uh - okay?"

She laughed nervously, and nodded, a little too fast. "Uh huh. Yeah! Just...yeahI'mgood."

Chloe didn't seem convinced, but she didn't press the issue.

What. The. Fuck? What the hell was that, brain? Seriously! What did you just show me?

Oh my God. Am I...do I like other...

No. No no no! That was...Max was being dumb. She wasn't, you know. Gay. Or something. How could she even know what she was? It wasn't like she ever had the opportunity for dating. Certainly, she'd never felt any past attraction towards other...

Her eyes linger overlong on Alanna's generous bust, the curves covered in shimmery black satin as the older woman tells her goodnight.

She watches transfixed as Cammie does her inverted sit ups in the gym, clad in little more than a sports bra and spandex leggings. Chalks it up to simple hero worship at the time...

Max's eyes went wide.

Fuuuuuuuuuuck.

Fuck!

Why, mind, why?! Why now? This is not the fucking time for me to realize I'm gay, or bi, or whatever the hell!

Max was so goddamn furious at her brain, she could just kill it! She clamped down on her mouth, trying not to burst out laughing at the utter ridiculousness of it all.

Of everything.

Suddenly, for the first time in her life, she felt like an actual adult, a real person, not the socially stunted woman-child that the last five years shaped her into. The more she let her mind ruminate on the possibility of her sexuality, the more she felt secure in her instincts, down to her core.

So...so now what the hell do I do?

She felt the urge to stick her head out the window and shout: "Hey world! I think I might like girls!". She glanced over sideways to Chloe, and struggled with the overwhelming urge to ask her to pull the truck over to the side of the road, to giddily spill out her feelings, share what she'd just experienced in what would no doubt be a long and rambling stream of consciousness.

This was important! This was, really, because...she learned something about herself, just now. Something vital, and immutable. She'd been transformed by the experience. In the blink of an eye. The old Max was gone, just like that old childhood house back in Arcadia Bay. New Max sat in her place. Max 2.0. A Maxier Max, more aware of herself, and now an adult, and...

...and maybe hella gay.

Even if she wasn't so sure about that, she was absolutely certain about something else.

If I'm not a lesbian, I'm still totally Chloesexual.

It all made so much sense to her now. So many disparate pieces and feelings and confused moments all gelled together in perfect accord.

She wanted to share this, all of this, with her best friend. And maybe, share something more.

But no.

That wasn't for her.

Everything happening to her right now, everything she wanted, everything she needed or thought she needed, belonged to regular people. Normal ones. The mundane and the gloriously small.

None of this was meant for demi-goddesses named Max Caulfield.

The last thing Chloe needed to hear was something like: "I think I'm gay, or at least gay for you, and I'm really sad that I may never see you again, and can't otherwise act on my feelings because safety reasons. So have a nice life, Chloe Price."

All Max could do at the moment was take that bright, brilliant maelstrom of emotion and self-discovery and crush it. Hard. Into a tiny little ball. One she could put up on a shelf in her mind, where it would be far less inconvenient, at least for now. And as she worked to chain down that ebullience, that vital need to scream out and say 'Hey world! Here I am! I just figured out something big!' she could feel herself resisting the effort.

She won the fight.

She lost the fight.

She fell somewhere into the middle; an emotional stalemate.

"Max are you sure you're okay?" Chloe asked again.

A mask of bittersweet emotion fell over her face, as her fingers wrapped possessively around the bullets hanging from the precious necklace, the one Chloe gave her. "I'm...fine, Che. Just sad, you know? Because it's all coming to an end. That's all."

For the first time in her life, Max mourned at how good she'd become at lying. To everyone but herself.


Fifteen minutes later, Chloe started to pull off down a side road that Max wasn't familiar with.

"Hey, where we going?"

Chloe smiled impishly, "Ooooh. I brought the box of your old gear with us. There's a junkyard right here, on the edge of town. Just the place to bury your past. And...and I used to hang out a lot here, and thought I could show you a few things. I mean, you're not hella rushing to Portland today, are you?"

Max considered the situation. Chloe had a point; it wasn't as if she were on any specific timetable. The detour gave them more time together, which was a good - marvelous, really - and bad thing. But it served an important purpose, and if nothing else, it would probably be cathartic, getting rid of the last of her Damocles trappings.

Seeing as how she wasn't responding immediately, Chloe apparently thought to sweeten the deal, as she announced in a sing-song voice, "I brought matches and liiiighter fluid."

Laughing, Max shook her head, "Alright, yes! Although setting things on fire might not be the best idea. I don't want to consider the chemicals they used to make my weird bulletproof tunic, and burning it could kill us, or worse."

"Or give us a killer buzz?"

"Chloe..." Max groaned.

"Hah. Kidding. A gangster style burial it is then!"

Chloe parked close, but still far enough that walking was required. Quickly grabbing the cardboard box of old gear, she lead the way. As they approached the junkyard, Max marveled at the fact that the place seemed wholly unguarded, and completely abandoned. But beyond that, she couldn't help but feel an increasing sense of deja vu, the closer the two of them came. She tried her best to shake it off, but the notion wouldn't leave her be. Unsure of what to make of it, she decided to ignore it until she had reason not to.

As they stepped into the junkyard itself, Chloe raised her arms, and proclaimed, "Welcome to American Rust. My home away from Hell."

It was a medium-sized field, bordered by conifers, and absolutely littered with rusting hulks of busses and cars, oil drums, refrigerators; everything that society used up and then cast away when it was done with it. Max could see why Chloe might have more than a passing familiarity with the place.

"Raw and rough." Max drawled. "It suits you." She looked around, the sense of intense familiarity still not dissipating. "So this was your secret hideout?"

"Yeah! I've even got an awesome Fortress of Chloetude in here. I just...I started coming here, about a year or two after you left - er - I mean, when those assholes took you away. This was my own little queendom. You would have liked it, you know? Anyhow, this place was - is - special to me. Plus the fact that it's also the best place to get rid of incriminating evidence - not the first time I've done that kinda thing, by the way. But I always wanted to share this with you. Now I can!

"Well, it does have a certain kind of serenity to it." Max admitted. "Stillness. Like, I feel we're just outside of the rest of reality. Someplace no one could find us, as long as we stayed here. Like it's, you know, an enchanted glade or - or - a graveya-" She suddenly stopped dead in her tracks.

There was a spot off in the corner, where they were passing. The ground was disturbed recently, like maybe someone else had the same idea they did, and buried something they wanted to hide forever. It was too big, and too neat for it to be an animal burying food.

"S-sorry."

"It was a really nice service, Chloe. It was...nice."

Max didn't feel herself trip, didn't notice the fall until the last second, as she sprawled out, confusing images flashing in and out of her mind. Something happened here, something terrible. She was sure of that much, but nothing else.

"Whoa! Max!" Chloe cried out with concern. She reached down, gripping her by the shoulders, trying to help her back onto her feet. "Are you okay? What's wrong, what happened?" As Max looked into her eyes, she could see it: the genuine worry, the protectiveness. Except...

...it's so hard now! To see how she looks at me, and wonder if there's anything more than friendship behind that gaze.

She blinked, coming back to herself. "I - I'm fine. Sorry, I didn't get much sleep. Probably a little stoned too, you know." Chloe didn't seem entirely convinced, so Max upped the reassurance factor. Giving her a winning smile, she shrugged. "Hey, I tripped. Even secret agents are allowed to screw up now and then. But...let's get to wherever you want to do this. Something about this place creeps me out." She glanced again at the patch of freshly disturbed earth, and slunk away. Whatever mental serpents that were stirred up now slithered back into the dark corners of her mind. Max could take the time to hunt them down, but that would mean less time with Chloe. It wasn't like she was coming back to this place ever again, and not every mystery needed to be solved.

At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

Ultimately, the two of them found a dark, shady spot, in a tiny cul-de-sac formed by several rusted out junkers. Chloe snagged an old garden spade, and Max made use of a bent street sign as an impromptu shovel. Together, they dug down roughly three feet.

"There, doesn't have to be too deep. I mean, it's not like we're burying a body out here, right Max?" Chloe snorted with amusement. "Uh...are you sure you're okay? You just went hella pale there."

She certainly felt like all the blood drained out of her face, at the mention of bodies. She shook her head stridently and insisted, "I'm good, totally good, Che. No worries. Let's just - let's just bury this shit, okay? I never want to see it again." Max focused on the task at hand, stroking up the fires of anger and resentment smoldering inside, aggressively tossing dirt onto the box, until it disappeared. She didn't even notice that Chloe backed off, as if sensing this was a cathartic experience Max wanted all to herself.

"Ha ha! Yeah, let it out, girl! You're no one's slave or toy anymore. You're your own woman! Viva Max!" Chloe punched up a triumphant fist in the air.

She couldn't help but smile at her friend's enthusiastic enjoyment of the act, and for the first time since they arrived at the junkyard, she was enjoying herself as well. But that moment was fleeting, and done too soon.

"Alright. It's over. Let's get the hell out of here."

Chloe seemed hurt by her insistent desire to be elsewhere. "Maaax! C'mon. Please? Seriously, this is like my only chance to show you this place. It's really special and I want to share it. I mean, you can just give me a little more time here, right?" She then planted her fists on her hips, "Like, shit. Why you wanna leave so quick anyhow?"

Max sighed heavily, smiling sadly. She looked her over, and flashed back to a time when they were kids; Chloe used to strike that same pose when she was insistent about doing something her way. And Max found she was just as powerless against it now as she was when she was seven.

Maybe more so.

Holding up her hands in apology, she said, "Okay. You're right, sorry. I dunno Chloe. There's just something about this place that's really unsettling to me. Something that's..."

No. Don't tell her what's going on in your head. She'll want to investigate, or...I just want us to have a nice time! What little of it we have left to spend together.

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Show me, Chloe. I wanna see this place through your eyes."

"Yah-hah!" Chloe cheered in triumph, grabbed her hand, and led her towards a cinderblock bunker, one in surprisingly good shape. Max tried to ignore what holding hands was doing to her right now; it was as if close proximity to the blunette was overstimulating, let along being in such casual physical contact. The fact that she understood it all now, or thought she did, only made things worse.

And yet, at the same time, so awesome!


When they made their way into the bunker, Max looked around and whistled low.

I gotta give her credit, it looks like she spent a lot of time setting the place up.

Everything was junky, ramshackle, but there was a hominess that Max could just wrap herself up in and never want to let go. Wooden boards and cinder blocks joined with cable spools to form benches, tables and shelves. Vinyl covered bucket seats joined in, and there were posters, and a dartboard and graffiti..and...and.

It was all so Chloe! Every bit of it. She'd taken all this ugly refuse, all these broken, castaway things, and given them new life and purpose. Max turned around slowly and was struck by one all consuming notion. This was art: living, breathing, passionate. Everyday and once in a lifetime. Mundane and exquisite.

It was far greater than the sum of its humble parts.

Max sank to her knees, hugging herself tight. She didn't mean to start crying, but couldn't help herself. The tears wouldn't stop. She tried to understand why it affected her so deeply; what could possibly be so special about this stupid, glorious place? It was nothing but junk, some burned out, forgotten, decrepit...wonderful island of splendor. An empire unto itself.

Chloe kneeled down next to her, encircling her in her arms and said, "Now I know something's wrong! What is it, Max? Please, please tell me."

Despite herself, Max leaned in, savoring the closeness, and sobbed, her voice splintering with emotion, "It's...this is it, Chloe! A-all those years, all that time. Stolen by those...those fucks!" Her voice shrilled up an octave, as she frustratedly worked to make it all pour out. "Everything we saw before this, everything we did was kinda a trip down memory lane. Nostalgia and all that but this!" She held out an arm, waving it around the room. "This is the new! This is what we could have had, Chloe! What might have been. Because you know it, you know you would have found it, and it would have been cool, and we could have hung out here and...and..."

She continued sobbing, eyes closed tightly as visions of a past that never was and should have been danced in her head. Chloe would find the place, bring her here, so proud to show it off. Max would be hesitant at first, only seeing the filth, the grime, the danger, but Chloe would make her understand. The potential and the freedom it represented. This would be the place they made their stand, where they would find themselves and establish their own identities through the tempestuous waters of their teenage years. And then maybe they would have gotten drunk here the first time, or stoned. They could have played their music as loud as they wanted, danced as crazy as they wished.

And maybe, just maybe...

Our first kiss would have been here. A warm night, in the summer. August, you know, right before school started.

"Why, Chloe?" Max whimpered. "Why? It's not fair, it's not fair! I didn't want to hurt anyone. I didn't do anything bad. Never...never deserved it. Any of it!" She suddenly tilted her head back and let out a primal roar of deep-seated hatred. Of rage, and frustration. And of mourning. For all the precious years she'd never get back.

"Christ. I'm a time traveller, but I can't go and get my past back." Max gulped, and shook violently.

Chloe cradled her head, looking like she wasn't far from tears herself, her eyes wet and shining. "Max. Oh God, Max. You've had to be strong for so long. You've always been stronger than me, always. But..." She paused, stroking her hair. "Jesus, how do I even..?" She sighed, sounding defeated for a moment, before trying again.

"You can't change the past. You can't take it back. I mean shit, you taught me that, just yesterday. I thought I had the best plan to fix my life, change the past. I pushed you into making it reality. I figured it was gonna be so great, and I'd get back all that time I lost with my Dad. I mean, fuck, I did, but look what happened! You know better than me. You helped me see that Max, that life is just...fucking terrible, and unfair, but it's so amazing too, you know? It can be. The universe gave you this power, and you saved lives! That's more than most people can do, or even try to. And for all the shitty, terrible stuff that happened, it's like...maybe the world is trying to make it up to you now. By letting you escape. Go and find a new life, all your own. You have to be good with what you have now, and try to make the future better and fuuuck! I'm sorry, I suck so hard at being inspiring, or comforting or..." she trailed off.

Max shook her head emphatically, and hugged Chloe tight, not wanting to ever let go.

"You're my best friend, Chloe." Max proclaimed, her voice growing steadier by the moment, as she reached up to wipe her eyes and cheeks. "You will never not make me happy, or cheer me up, or see...amazing things." She reached up, fingers playing at cerulean strands of hair. Every instinct was yelling at her to kiss her again, right there, for real this time.

And it destroyed her, bit by bit, to push all of that back into the tiny prison her passion burst free from. Instead, she turned her head away, rubbed her nose, and glanced down. "Amazing things like this place. I'm really...glad that you brought me here. Sorry for being all crazy and whiny about wanting to leave quick. So..so let's hang out here, just for a little bit, okay?"

Nodding, and holding out her hands towards the largest chair in the room, Chloe said, "Help yourself to the seat of honor, m'lady." Max plopped heavily down onto it, doing her best to ignore how filthy it was. It was good though. Real. She still wasn't used to breathing such fresh air, after years of the recycled stuff, or living out in natural light.

I could do with a little less 'clean' in my life.

Chloe joined her at one of the smaller lounge chairs, pulled out her phone, and started to stream some angry sounding punk rock music, cranking the tinny little speaker up to maximum volume. She flashed a winning smile back to her and said, "See. Pretty good, huh? Maybe not quite authentic, and in the moment, or whatever fancy art lingo photographers use, but...good, right?"

Max smiled, and gave a deep, contented sigh. "Yeah. It's great, Chloe. I can see why you spent so much time here." Glancing down, Max took note of some of the debris strewn near her on the ground. Shards of an old CD, the biggest chunk of which bore the label "-chel song-". In a firepit nearby, the charred remains of some sort of cloth could be seen, with scorched "R" and "C" charms hanging limply off, along with torn scraps of what appeared to be photo booth pictures of Chloe with another girl. one she couldn't fully make out.

Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted the words, "Chloe was here." scribbled in black Sharpie. Underneath, was what Max assumed was a companion statement : Rachel was here. But the words were angrily overwritten in red marker by the phrase "BITCH!", vibrating with angry intent.

Glancing down at herself, the clothes she wore, Max couldn't help but inquire, "So can I ask about the mysterious Rachel Amber? It's obviously painful, but she seems like such a big and heavy presence in your life. I mean, until recently? Feel like I'm standing in the shadow of her ghost, or something."

Chloe snorted, pulling out a joint, lighting it up and taking a long drag, before holding it out for her. "Shit. Still too painful but..." she shook her head. "If it was anyone else, Max, I'd tell them to fuck off. But you...you deserve to hear about it." She swallowed hard, wetting her lips and scrubbing her hands together nervously. "So we met a couple years ago, I guess. Christmas, I think. Yeah, yeah, must have been, because I was at the diner, right after I went over to your parent's house for - for the last time." She gave an apologetic smile at that, and continued. "And we met. It's - ah - huh. Hard, you know. To try and talk about the good stuff. Last week, I wouldn't have been able to, but maybe now I'm ready. Because it was good. I needed a friend, right at that time, and we...Rachel was amazing." She winced, rubbing the back of her neck, and rocking back in her chair. "Not amazing like you, obviously, but she has this kind of charisma, this glow. A way of making you feel like you were something special; no matter how small you thought you were, she'd make you believe otherwise."

Max took a drag of her own, then handed the joint back, motioning for Chloe to continue.

"But it was weird in the beginning. The first month or two, sometimes it feel like I was betraying you somehow. But maybe I only feel that way now, with you here, and trying to remember back. Mostly, I was angry, and so fucking alone, and Rachel got me. She really got me, and she was going somewhere, and we were going to go to that somewhere together. Her and me. We were going to travel the world. Do all the things that - well - that you and me always talked about doing, when we grew up.

Max bit down on her bottom lip, swallowing against the lump of emotion in her throat. It was hard, listening to this. Painful. Part of her wanted to be furious. Viciously so, about the pretender that came in, and swooped up her spot in Chloe's life. But another, much larger part of her...

"...I'm glad you found a good friend, Chloe. You didn't know what the hell was going on, and if you waited three years without hearing from me, well. Fuck. I mean, I probably...you know. I probably would have. Too."

They shared a knowing, sadly uneasy smile together at this.

"Maybe. Except I know you'd never fucking betray me...!" Chloe's voice rose up, and she slammed her fist against her leg, trying to calm down. "...betray me the way she did."

"What happened? I still don't understand."

"Well, first off, she started hanging out with Victoria Chase. Like, a lot. I mean, I know Rachel's a social butterfly and I wasn't the be all-end all of her world. Um. I mean, I was really important, I hope? But...that wasn't it, as much as I might have been jealous. No, it's when she suddenly disappeared this past April. Out of the blue. Victoria kinda did, too, at the same time. No word from Rachel, none at all, no...no fucking idea what happened to her. For a while I was convinced Victoria straight up killed her or something, and ran away to cover it up." Chloe's voice was rich with wounded pride, angered betrayal. "I just...I mean...I just." She started to sniffle, then gave way to an abortive, choked sob.

"It was like losing you all over again, Max. Except they gave me a bullshit story about you being happy and away at some fancy prep school, so at least I knew you were still alive. No, Rachel just cut out, and I had no idea if she was alive or dead. And no one seemed to care about her, except me! No one!" She thumped her chest angrily. "I put up posters for her, I asked everyone in a thirty mile radius if they saw her, or knew what was going on. I..." the tears started to roll, one by one, down her cheek, and Chloe quickly wiped her face with one hand. "I was alone. All alone. Again. I knew my Dad, my real Dad would care. Or...or you. But I didn't have either of you anymore. And fuck, I got into all this debt with that asshole, Frank, trying to get my truck fixed, driving around looking around for her. Which, oh, by the way, I think Rachel was somehow involved with him too, but...but probably just stringing him along for drugs. She did like to party, more than me even."

Max leaned over, taking Chloe's hand in hers and squeezing tight. The contact was such blissfully agony. She didn't want to let go, and it was killing her to be so close and not do more, but Chloe needed her as a friend, as a shoulder to cry on, above all else.

Chloe squeezed back, gaining the strength to continue, "Last month, she called me on the phone. And I'm sure you can imagine how relieved I was, to hear from her." She threw a hand up in the air, tossed her head back and gave a clipped laugh. "It felt like a goddamn miracle, and everything was going to be okay! But it fell apart so...so fast. She was all, "Sorry, but I ran into some crazy shit." and "No, sorry, not sure when I can see you again, probably best we just not hang out. Too hard to explain why." and I...I just couldn't believe it. Was like she turned into a whole different person! My Rachel, and she..."

Chloe trembled, staring straight ahead, tears dripping from her face, as she squeaked out, "...she turned me away! Or...or maybe I just didn't know her so well after all, and I learned what a fucking idiot I was for ever..."

"You loved her." Max said.

She didn't mean to, but it slipped out.

Chloe paused, as if struck dumb. After a few seconds, she ruefully nodded. "I - I think I did, Max. God. Fuck. Does that shock you? I mean, that maybe I have a thing for girls?"

It took a supremely monumental effort for Max not to shout, "I think maybe I do too!", grab Chloe by the head, tackle her, kiss her, and then...something...something.

Don't! Don't do this to her, don't make it harder for her. You have to leave, you have to run, you have to keep her safe. No matter how much it tears you up inside.

"You're Chloe." she said. "Nothing will ever change that. Not for me. Not ever."

Chloe glowed, for one brief, bright moment, eyes shining with gratitude, before she continued. "Th-thanks. Uh. Yeah. The love part. That's what made it so hard. I mean, I'm not a moron. Pretty sure she didn't feel exactly the same way, but I thought I meant something to her. Some damn little, thing! And then Victoria was back for school, but she just blew me off, the couple of times I tried to ask her about Rachel. I got in a real dark, obsessive place for a little while. It got kind of nasty at one point, like we were going to throw down, but I didn't want to...turn it into this bullshit catfight. So. Anyhow. The rest is obvious. Chloe gets hurt, Chloe lashes out and destroys the world around her. I'm awesome at that shit." She shrugged. "Was it karma, Max? This whole morning, I've wondered. Was it the universe punishing me for not being a better friend to you? For not waiting, like I should have. For...for giving up on you?"

Chloe hugged herself, and seemed so small and young. For a second, Max saw her as she did that day her powers Emerged. Alone, vulnerable. Grieving.

Max reached over, hugging close. "If you want to know if I'm angry at you, I'm not. Not really. I think I'm giving up trying to figure out what the fuck the universe expects out of us. How to act, and how to react. Can't help wonder if shit is going on that seems cruel to us on the surface, but we don't fully appreciate the lesson until we're older."

Chloe snuggled in for a few seconds, laughing through her tears. "You make it sound like the universe is a bitchy Mom trying to get us to eat our veggies."

"Ha ha! Yeah, kinda. Makes as much sense as anything else, right?"

Chloe pulled back, just enough to face her, bowed her head, and in a quiet voice, said, "I'm sorry, Max. Still. Can't help but feel like I failed a test. Like I failed you. Should have waited. Should have..." She trailed off, shrugging.

"And then what? Get deeper into your depression and more lonely and bitter? It sounds like for all the bullshit she pulled, Rachel really helped lift you up, at least for a little bit. I mean, yeah, maybe part of me wanted to be in her shoes. And part of me would seriously like to gouge her fucking eyes out for getting all those awesome teenage years I wanted with you." She said the last part with an eerie, faux sweetness. But she more than enjoyed the laugh it got from Chloe.

"She ain't was no good for you inna end, Che." she continued, hamming it up with a hillbilly accent. Chloe was rolling in her chair with laughter at this.

"Ah! God! Max, staaahp! Oh damn." Chloe wiped away the last of her tears, reached over to give one last firm hug, and sighed. The look on her face suggested there were a million more things she wanted to convey; instead, she reached over, grabbing a worn black marker, placing it in Max's hand.

"I believe there's a wall over there, waiting for your mark, Ms. Supah-Spyee."

Max, grinned happily. "Really?" She turned around, gazing over hungrily at a blank spot, just below Rachel's overwritten signature, indulging the possessive part of her that couldn't help but feel like she was making a claim. She stood, and walked over, wondering what to put down. 'That's right, Chloe is mine forever, you stupid bitch.' seemed exciting, but too risky. Instead, she uncapped the marker, and slowly wrote:

'Max wanted to be here the whole time.'

"And you're finally here now, Maxima." Chloe smirked, leaning forward from her chair. She quickly scrubbed at her face and eyes with her shirt, composing herself. "Too bad you know? You having to leave. This would have made an awesome MaxCave, our secret hideout where we plot our next attack against the forces of evil and conformity."

Max could only nod.

Oh God. Don't tempt me. Don't remind me what I could have, if I just could stop running.

They spent the next half hour, listening to music, dancing, playing darts, laughing and enjoying each others company, before Chloe suddenly announced. "Okay! One or two more things, okay? And then I guess we should be good and hit the road again. But just a couple more things, right?"

Max nodded, "Sure, Che. Anything is good."

As the two of them exited the old bunker, Max spared a final glance behind. Probably the last time she'd ever see the place. In her mind's eye, she saw a brief flash of herself and Chloe walking out, hand in hand, giggling and looking at each other with goofy expressions.

What might have been.

She turned, eyes forward, to face the reality of what actually was.


A/N: *Japanese anime villainess laugh* Ho ho ho ho! Suffer, readers, as I drive Lesbian Angst to new and punishing levels. Nya ha ha!

But seriously, you know something's gotta give sooner than later. Also: Poor Max, so close, yet so far. On multiple levels.

Anyhow, I mentioned last week that I had a bit of a bittersweet announcement...though I don't think I used that exact word. Long story short, I'm afraid that I'm losing my editor, at least for a while. Corentin IV actually has a real life, believe it or not, one filled with excitement and intrigue and I think maybe legal paperwork? Suffice it to say, there's been a little too much intrigue of the career sort lately, and she literally does not have the time for a life outside her job, so sadly, must step back from the duties she has so kindly provided for the better part of a year with this series. There is hope she might return, but with maybe fifteen or so chapters left (and at least five of those are already written at this point.) the series may be over by then. But this chapter here, #28? This is the last one she edited, about a month ago.

So I just want to take a moment to fondly praise Cory. We met almost three years ago here on FFN, and what became her 'only' giving me a few pointers for the month of June turned into an ongoing collaboration, as well as a deep and abiding friendship. Her fingerprints are over...well, at least half my work, and I would call that the better half. I am exceedingly blessed by her friendship, and I consider her as true a kin to me as any by blood. She is a wonderful confidant, a superb editor, and I will miss her to bits while she's "gone".

I've learned that a good editor can make a good writer something great. Cory understands me, she knows when to use a light touch, and when to occasionally press harder. She never tells me what to do, she merely suggests, makes me consider and reconsider. Offers suggestions, but also gives me enough faith to know when I feel strongly enough about something, or when I realize that I'm being a bit foolish and indulgent, and should try harder. She has saved me from making some stupid choices, and I've learned how to develop a better instinct for "killing my darlings", as my father the one-time English professor would put it.

She is also one of the most accomplished writers I know of, and you should really check out her stuff. I wish she had more time to write!

Anyhow Big Sister, I am going to dearly miss your steady guidance. Come back to us soon, okay? And if the technical quality of the writing goes down just a little, I apologize to everyone, in advance.

With that said, I am quite fortunate that someone else is going to step in and do some beta reading, so that at least I have a second opinion on what's going on with the story. I am very, very VERY pleased to announce that my Little Sister (from another mister) NuQueerWarhead has kindly and graciously agreed to take on the role. A lot of folks probably don't know this, but she was instrumental in getting this story started. She listened to my initial ideas, she gave me some good insight into what worked and what didn't. She forced me to consider some stuff, and in a way, this whole series has taken a much different (and IMO, a superior) turn thanks to those discussions we had in the beginning. Already, she's been doing some amazing work on chapters 30 and 31, I'm so thrilled. We met about a year ago, and I knew our relationship was going to be something special when, in less than 48 hours after our meeting, she gave me some critique and feedback that vastly improved a one-shot I wrote (Childhood's End.) I sometimes privately refer to her as Chibi-Cory, because she is a strong and amazing person in general with a burning enthusiasm for Mass Effect; the first time we ever met offline, we recognized each other by the matching N7 hoodies.

Seriously, she is just the best! And the title of this chapter is an homage to her excellent "Precious Gifts..." series.

One last thing: If for some reason, I don't publish on Friday when I should, check my profile page. I've gotten into the habit of updating it frequently, so you can find the latest status information there.

Whew. Anyhow. That's it. Join us next week for another episode of "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST MAX, KISS HER ALREADY!"

[Thanks to GrumpCat42 for spotting a few typos!]