Chapter XIX: Some god o' the island

Chloe had always wondered what she had looked like on stage, years ago, for those few fleeting scenes as Ariel. A gawky girl in an ugly costume, fumbling past strange phrases and trying desperately to remember her lines, written four hundred years earlier in words that barely made sense. She'd known she looked at Rachel too long, too obviously obsessed, caught in the wizard's spell. But then Rachel had changed the lines. Given her a look that was Rachel, not just Prospera. She'd come up with Shakespeare-worthy lines, on the spot, in front of everyone. For her. To ask her to trust her. To promise her freedom and love and escape.

It was the most fucking romantic thing that had ever happened to her. Maybe, even after everything, it was one of the most fucking romantic things that had ever happened to anyone. In that moment, with that gesture, Chloe would've done anything for Rachel. And she did, right up until the end, in whatever reality, in whatever way the end came.

This must have been something like watching her in the Tempest, but it was all inverted. Rachel – no, this was Prospera herself – conjured up memories of the real Rachel, of Chloe, of Max, and set them up on the stage. Here, in this place between dreams and time, the stage itself shifted, mimicking the places burned forever into Chloe's memories: Her house. The junkyard. Blackwell. The Two Whales. The Ambers'. The beach. Her apartment in L.A. Her car. The lighthouse.

Max and Chloe watched as Prospera showed them their story, showed them how this power had entered their lives in something that was part accident, part test, part hope for something better. One by one, decision after decision, played across the stage, the spectral forms of Rachel, Chloe, Max, and the others drifted apart and refored like whorls of dust.

Everything they had done, all of their mistakes and loves and decisions, played before their eyes. And something finally made sense to her. This whole sorry tale was marked and formed by decisions, moments where the three of them had to decide one thing to do over another, all without knowing the consequences. Each decision, made in anger or fear or selfishness or their best attempt at doing what was right, each one a ripple in a pond, each one leading them down their own separate paths. Sometimes what seemed right ended up being the best; other times it doomed them or others. They could see the futures their choices made. The three of them, but no one else. As far as Chloe was aware, if they were the only people to ever gain this power, then they were the only people who truly had to live with their choices, who saw for sure what the alternatives would have been, who could trace the line of cause and effect and random chance and see just how powerful – and powerless – they were. So many widely different stories, and yet…and yet…so much beyond their control.

How can she judge us? We didn't ask for this.

In the climactic scene, the ghostly forms of Max and Rachel dissolved while the image of Chloe fell at the foot of the huge tree and was enveloped in blue light. The curtain closed in an unsettling silence, leaving behind only the distant sound of waves. Dawn was coming, and Max and Chloe sat alone in the early morning light. The remnants of Prospera's visions drifted like mist over the expanse of mostly empty seats.

"Well, that was bullshit," said Chloe. She sat up and stretched her legs. Funny, how she still felt the need to do that, even if her real body was dying underneath a tree somewhere else.

Max looked off into the distance. "What was she trying to tell us? That she's been watching us, giving us all these choices, messing with our lives? Why?"

"She likes fucking with us. She basically came out and said it! Makes her feel more human to watch us suffer." Chloe spat on the grass. "Fuck that."

"I don't know if that's exactly…"

"Fuck it is. She's – it's – some weird alien, or god, or advanced A.I., or whatever, and it wants to be human, and it falls in love with Rachel and then gets pulled into all our human bullshit. We're dolls it's playing with. And it's getting tired of us." Chloe crossed her arms and stared at the curtains. They were rustling slightly in the morning breeze. "We need to find what's left of Rachel in there, and get the fuck out."

Max tucked her arms under her shoulders. "And then what? If this place is like that other lighthouse, a place outside of time, maybe we can find a good timeline to stay in. But what then? Does this just keep happening over and over again? Running from other versions of ourselves, from…from Prospera?"

"I don't know." She pulled Max into her arms. "I just want to be with you. I want to save Rachel, but I want to be with you, okay? Wherever…and whenever. Partners in time, remember?"

Max leaned up to kiss her.

She's so fucking good.

Eventually, they pulled away, and Max's eyes lowered to the ground. "Even after you and Rachel…back at the tree…"

Max, running away into the woods.

"I'm sorry. That was shitty. It's just…I'm always gonna love her, Max. Not in the same way as you, not as much as you, but…she's part of all this too. I failed her before." She put up a hand as Max started to speak. "I know, I know, there wasn't much I could've done, but still. Guilt's a hell of a drug. Even if we fucked up a lot, even if…all those people died, it's gotta be better if I can save her. If we can do this one good thing."

Max was quiet for a moment, her eyes closed. Chloe rubbed the back of her neck. She thought she'd have been done with this kind of awkwardness by now, given all they'd been through. But, no. Some things would always be with her.

Did I fuck this up?

No, I know Max. I know her better than anyone.

Max slowly opened her eyes and nodded. "Yeah. Let's do it. One good thing. And then…Chloe…you know what's going to happen next, right?"

"Um…no, not really. What?"

"It's what she's always done. What we've always had to do." She took Chloe's hand again. "A choice. We're going to have to make a choice. I think…we should be ready."

A choice? A choice between what?

Before she could respond, a noise came from behind them. They both turned around to see the curtains part, and Prospera emerge, still dressed in her costume. Chloe nodded at Max, and the two climbed up onto the stage and walked slowly towards Prospera, towards the source of all of this, towards what was still left of Rachel Amber. Behind her, the stage was still set up for the island from The Tempest, sand covering everything, seagulls wheeling above.

"Max, Chloe, I'm so glad you came to the show! What'd you think?" Rachel flashed a smile, exactly like all her smiles.

The smile that made me get expelled. That smile that killed me, in some realities.

Don't get distracted.

Chloe took a slow step forward. The ground underneath her swayed, until Max took her hand. Steady, she raised her eyes to Prospera's.

Everybody lies.

"You're not really Rachel, are you?"

Prospera kept smiling. "Rachel wasn't really Rachel, if you think about it."

"The fuck does that mean?"

Prospera gave a sad smile and a shrug. "There was a Rachel for every occasion. The Rachel for her parents, the Rachel for the Vortex Club, the Rachel for the theatre, the Rachel for those modeling shows…"

"And the Rachel for me."

"Right. I am all of those Rachels, and more. I'm Rachel," she twirled around, exactly like she did on that day when she pulled Chloe into the drama club and asked if she wanted to skip school, "as she always wanted to be."

"Fuck this. Why can't I just get a clear answer?"

"That would ruin the mystery."

"Why is it always a fucking mystery?" Chloe kicked at one of the papier-mâché boulders dotting the stage. A scared seagull leapt into the air and cawed.

"Careful," whispered Max. She squeezed her hand. "You're okay."

Chloe looked back at her and nodded, before turning to Prospera. "Why all the lies? Why do you always lie to me, in every fucking timeline? Is there a real Rachel in there? Was there ever?"

Another shrug. "I don't know. Is there a real Chloe? I told your story, all of them, so I know about the beach and all the other Chloes. Which one is the real you? The dead punk on the bathroom floor? The girl who kissed Max beneath the lighthouse and prepared to die? The one who drove away from the wreckage of her old life? The one in Los Angeles?"

"N-no, I'm…"

"No, you're a bunch of different Chloes, and you can't keep them all straight." She tapped Chloe lightly on the shoulder with her staff, prodding her back a step. "Chloe Price is always a bunch of masks. Just like Rachel Amber. Just like Max Caulfield. Shaped by circumstance and choice and fate." Suddenly her face turned sad, that whip-quick change Chloe remembered so well. Rachel never did stay in one emotional state for long.

"I got…obsessed. One little life, one small tragedy." Prospera raised her own hands in front of her, staring at them. "Probably helped that she's so beautiful, didn't it? I felt all of humanity too much, I became like them, in all their flaws and biases, and after everything that happens, I chose to help a girl named Rachel Amber. Because she was radiant, and beautiful, and tragic, and dead before her time."

She held out her open palm, and a flame flickered to life between her fingers. It danced back and forth, flitting between her fingers like a snake. Her eyes were wide and mesmerized, lit by the glow of the flame. Rachel's eyes.

"And fire burns so bright."

"Is that why you look like her? Is that…why you're doing the whole Shakespeare thing?"

Prospera closed her fist, and the flame died. She spun towards Chloe until she was in front of her, then behind her, walking around her like some circling bird of prey.

"Yes, that's why I look like her. Because I fell in love with her too, or near enough. And Shakespeare…well, this was the moment when you realized what Rachel was to you, what she represented, what she could be. So that's why you see me here, in this form. That's what Rachel is: a representation, a mask, a mirror, a mirage."

Chloe clenched her fist.

"Rachel was a lot of things. Some people…some people have too much living inside them, so they have to wear different faces, be more people than everyone else, because everyone else needs them to be more. Rachel was all of that, and not all of it was good. But she was a person. Is a person. Not a mask. If that's one good thing from all this shit, it's that Rachel's alive somewhere."

Prospera shook her head slowly.

"It's an act! It's all an act! I thought I could help you all, but you just keep playing out the same dramas over and over again. The same roles and the same stories, just swapping the actors. You fall in love and you just try to carve out your own little world and it wrecks everything for everyone else! It hurts so much, to watch you all throw everything away. But I know now…it won't get any better."

Max let go of her hand and stepped in between Chloe and Prospera.

"You know it always ends badly?" asked Max. "You've seen all the realities?"

Prospera nodded. "All the ones touched by the power, by the three of you."

"Then why…why did the tornado come? Why did…the one timeline where I…when I went back to let Chloe…die…why did that save Arcadia Bay?" Chloe could hear the fear and guilt in Max's voice, but she was strong, and she kept going, resolute. "There were other timelines, like the one with Rachel and Chloe in L.A. The tornado didn't destroy them! Or the world we made where everybody lived! What about that?"

Chloe had almost forgotten about the reality where Max had sacrificed her to save Arcadia Bay. It was a world she'd never experienced, except once, as some kind of temporal time ghost, when she'd seen that other Max crying in her Blackwell dorm. Time had never made any kind of sense, why should it now? But Max was right. What was behind the thing that had caused so much death and pain?

Prospera leaned on her staff, her eyes faltering. "The storm always comes." She looked up, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and sorrow. "It's not always in the same time. It's not always a tornado. Sometimes it's a flood, or a wildfire." She snapped, and another flame danced between her fingers before she closed her fist, extinguishing it. She looked down again. "It's time, punishing you for trying to do differently. Punishing me for thinking you could do it. But every time, you fail. And the storm comes to wipe the slate clean, return things to the way they were supposed to be, when nothing flinched and everything came into being."

The waves crashed louder now, somewhere beyond the edges of her vision, hidden in the morning mist. Chloe, even in this dream, felt something boiling inside her. An anger she always had, chained up in the darker parts of her, in every reality she'd experienced. Something built into the bones of Chloe Price. She stepped up beside Max.

"Let me get this straight. You…you're…Arcadia Bay…or the land it's built on, or the spirits of the people or some shit. And you decide to save Rachel and give her powers. And she lives this time, she doesn't die in the dark room, and then everything plays out like I remember. But life gets in the way, and she keeps making more timelines, and everything goes to shit, so that timeline breaks."

Rachel calling her frantically, saying "Nathan tried to kill me" over and over again, days before they left for California. Rachel in the hospital room, again, saying "you die all the time." Rachel reaching for her to stay, trying to hold onto something…

"You try again. Max gets the powers now."

The alarm ringing, and Nathan running out, scared.

"And she uses them to help people. Every damn time. To make people's lives better, and to help us find Rachel. But no, it's not good enough. The fucking tornado comes because she was supposed to let me die. So she decides to save me, and let the tornado hit Arcadia Bay."

The picture, torn in two, floating in the black sky, caressed by the winds. The tornado crushing into the town below, like all those homes and buildings and trees and people were only toys. Only things.

"And then she makes so many timelines and…every reality we make still has problems. We get caught up in our own petty shit and drama and nothing's perfect."

The car ramming into Jefferson. Burying him in the junkyard. Max confessing on the frozen beach.

"So you decide that you've given us enough chances, and you're gonna scrap the whole thing. Get us all here together, wipe us out at the roots, just give up?"

Prospera nodded. "Yes. I'm so sorry…I wanted you to succeed. Hoped all your failures would amount to something. But I'm not convinced."

Chloe burst out a short, sharp laugh. "That's it? We failed your little fucking test, and now we're gonna get expelled? You're just some kind of cosmic Principal Wells? That's the grand fucking secret of all this time travel shit?"

She felt the fire inside her now, hot and angry. Her vision narrowed.

"I don't care if you're god, or whatever, but if you're the one who built all this, then I have two words for you. Fuck. You."

Prospera laughed. "There you go again. Chloe Price, the rebel, the fighter, the angry one. Playing right into character."

"I don't give a shit. How do we get out of this? How do I…save all of Max? All of Rachel? You can take back your power, fine, we failed to make the world a better place. I'm done. No more fucking time travel. I want out. I want Max, and I want Rachel, and I want you to leave us the fuck alone."

Chloe thought she saw a small, sad, smile play across Prospera's face, but perhaps it was only the flickering shadows of the flames dancing around her, caught in the shadows on the stage wall.

"Okay."

"Okay? That's it?"

"I know you both too well. I don't think you're going to give up. Even if I have."

A pirate flag hanging in the back of the stage caught the wind and fluttered. More seagulls cried noisily somewhere off-stage.

Max took her hand, and they followed Prospera as she stepped off the stage and walked towards the edge of Blackwell property. In reality, there was a road here, overlooking the rest of the town. But here, in the dream, it was only the ocean. Prospera stopped at the edge, and looked over.

"I hope you're right. That you can make something out of all this failure. I love you all, so much." Prospera smiled. "You've shown me what it's like. Being a person."

Max took a deep breath. "How do you like it?"

"It's…difficult," she said, still smiling. "I thought if you could fix your mistakes, you could save yourselves. Save me. From all the storms. But they keep coming anyway. There at the end of every story."

The wind whipped through Chloe's hair as she looked out over the edge of this island. Dark blue water, white foam, roiling waves. An endless sea, lapping up against one small island built of dreams and memories. Max, her best friend, the sky of stars at the end of the darkness, was here with her, even if her own body was missing somewhere else. And Rachel, the bright flame that had kept her warm in her coldest moments, had wrestled with something beyond any of them, and found herself entangled with it.

All of this, time traveling and dreams and fate, all of it wasn't supposed to happen. Whichever world really came first didn't matter; Chloe would've ended up either dead physically or dead in her soul. Someone else forgotten by Arcadia Bay, used up, and consumed.

And yet she was here, impossibly. Maybe she shouldn't be. Maybe all those who had to die so that she could live deserved to live more than she did. Maybe their blood was on her hands.

Or maybe the three of them, Rachel, Max, and Chloe, were caught in something no one else had ever been through, forced to make decisions no one else should or could ever bear. Trapped by some twisted sense of fate and narrative drama to rend their own souls to prove they were human.

Chloe thought back to the girl she was before any of this. She barely recognized her. She loved her, wanted to hold in her arms and tell her that life was still worth something, even if it was a kind lie. But she was different now. She'd seen all the ways the world could be, all the ways her own life could be, and saw there was something beautiful there, just within reach. If only she'd known. If only all of them could have the chance to know.

Prospera stood beside her, leaning on her staff, following Chloe's gaze out into the horizon. Max, at her side, took her hand. Chloe squeezed it tight, then turned to face the wizard.

"Look at me. I was a fuckup. Was? Am? Will be? I don't know. I dropped out of school for a girl I barely knew. I was a shit daughter. I ran away from a town that got destroyed just for me. I'm not proud of everything I've done. But…I was better in some of these timelines. I-I learned, I improved. I got my shit together, at least a little. Why can't the world? Humans are shitty, I know, but…to just write us off like this? I fucking refuse to accept that things can't get any better, that we didn't make things a little better. Maybe every time we try to improve the world, something else falls apart, but that doesn't mean we should stop trying! The world isn't always improving, it's going backwards all the time, but that doesn't mean it never gets better! There's no perfect world, but any world where I Max and I loved each other is a better fucking world than the rest. And that would've never happened if I stayed dead in a fucking bathroom."

Prospera sighed, a quiet smile on her lips. She shook her head slowly.

"Maybe you're right, Chloe Price. Probably not, but maybe. What do you say to all those who died so you could live?"

Max spoke up. "What do we say? I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry. But that's…that's worth less than nothing. I have to live with that. I didn't ask for that happen. I didn't know what would save them. But if the storm was coming anyway, in some reality…at least I can work to make their deaths mean something."

"We made a good reality, one where they all lived," said Chloe. "Doesn't that count for something?"

"I don't know," said Prospera. "I don't think those words apply."

They sat in silence, listening to the waves. High above, a raven circled.

"I'm going to leave you," said Prospera. "I fear you're mistaken, but…but I hope you're not. I hope that when I…let go of all of this…I'm better for it. Maybe I can help in different ways to keep the storm at bay. For another few realities at least."

"Leave us? Does that mean…"

"It means my charms are o'erthrown." She laughed. "My play is almost ended. It will be left to the three of you to figure out what to do with the mess of memories and realities I've left behind." She turned away from the water, dropped her staff, bent down, and suddenly was holding a thick, leather-bound tome. She tucked it under one arm. "I don't know what you'll do with it."

"What about Rachel? And Max?"

"They'll be returned to you," said Prospera, not looking at her. "Depending."

"Depending?"

Max almost laughed. "The choice."

Prospera smiled. "She knows."

"Why does it have to be a fucking choice?"

"There's always a choice," Prospera said, one hand idly tracing the glyphs written on the book she held. "Most people just don't know when they're making it. You all have that blessing."

Or a curse.

"What's the choice, then?" asked Chloe. Max leaned into her, holding her close. She didn't want to hear an answer.

"You can leave the door open, or walk through it and lock it behind you."

"What does that mean?"

"My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore, and they shall be themselves."

Prospera did not look at them as she spoke. She pulled out the ancient tome, crawling with blue and red light.

"But this rough magic

I here abjure; and, when I have required

Some heavenly music,—which even now I do,—

To work mine end upon their senses, that

This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff,

Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,

And deeper than did ever plummet sound

I'll drown my book."

She tossed the book into the ocean, and like a photograph burning at the edges, the dream broke into pieces.

"Chloe? Oh god, Chloe!"

She opened her eyes to see Max above her. And beyond her, stretching out into the sky like some huge natural roof, was the tree. Max pulled her up and to her feet.

It's done? I'm awake? Then where's…

Rachel hugged her from behind, and Max joined in.

"Thank fuck you're alright," said Chloe, laughing. "And you're walking?!"

Rachel laughed too. "Yeah, I guess…she healed us? What about your leg?"

Chloe looked down at her leg. The jeans were torn where the knife should have been, but the wound was gone, and the knife lay bloodless at her feet.

"Guess we guilted her into it," she said. "Least she could do, honestly."

Max hugged herself, looking nervously at the sky. Chloe followed her gaze up past the ceiling of interwoven branches, towards a sky covered in black clouds. She could smell the wet heat of an oncoming storm.

She should feel worried, she knew, but instead she felt relief. She wasn't in a dream anymore. This felt real. As fucking strange as it was to be so far back in time, it was real.

"Rachel? Are you, you know, Rachel?"

"I think so." She pressed a hand to her face, wiped off a trail of blood from her nose. "My head hurts."

"That's normal," said Chloe. "Right Max? Nosebleeds? Cost of the power?"

Max didn't say anything. She was stepping backwards, her face tilted towards the sky.

"Earth to Max?"

"Chloe, we need to get out of here."

"Yeah Max, I got that. Really ready to get back to the future, too. How, though?"

"The tree," said Rachel. "I remember enough of…being her. This is the source."

"Well, it's definitely hella fucking magical. I touched it and it triggered all that dream palace shit."

"Chloe, it's a lighthouse! The lighthouse!"

"What?"

"We're so far back in time before the lighthouse was built. This isn't on the exact same spot, but it's the same thing. A guide for everything around it. A sign of somewhere safe. This is the heart of Arcadia Bay."

"The source of the powers," whispered Rachel. She took another step closer, hands outstretched.

"Whoa, whoa," said Chloe, putting herself in between Rachel and the tree, "how about we not touch the weird glowing magic tree that trapped us in our dreams, okay?"

"She said she was letting us take control of things from now on," said Max. "This has to be how we do it."

Chloe extended both her hands, palms out. "I can't do anything without you two. Let's try, I don't know, combining our powers? Thinking about getting back?"

"Not back," said Rachel, though she took Chloe's hand. Her grip was strong, safe. "To the heart of everything."

"Rachel's right," said Max, holding onto Chloe's other hand. "We need to pull apart all the realities to keep the storm from following us."

"Fine. We think about the…the source, or whatever." She breathed out slowly, her breath shaky. "Ready?"

"Yes," said Max, right as Rachel nodded.

"Okay then; three, two, one…"

Red pressure, blue light. She thought of centers, of burrowing roots down to a beating heart. She thought of the lighthouse at the edge of time, with every reality sprawling before her. She thought of Max and Rachel and her escaping this, the threads untangled, the storm left to rage down roads and alleys in some other city, flowing through some veins that weren't their own. She thought of blue lights, and butterflies. Of the sound of thunder, and a falling whale. Storms and floods, wildfires and hurricanes. She thought of time, and how to get to where even time flowed backwards.

The tree lit up with blue flames.

Whirling snakes of blue light spread out from the tree, dancing like ribbons caught in the storm, spinning like a tornado. The light sped down into the earth, breaking through mud and stone and burrowing deeper, forming an intricate lattice of light. The winds picked up leaves and tossed from the tree, but whenever they flew close to the beams of light, they moved backwards, reversing and flying back to the tree, caught in a dance. Like the tides.

"This is it," said Rachel, her voice straining to be heard over the winds. Lightning cracked and thunder boomed. Bright lights like veins.

Chloe felt the winds push up against her. She shifted her stance, dug into the earth. Past the trees, she could barely see the dark water of the ocean. Winds gathered in the distant sky.

The storm. It comes at the end of every story.

"Uh, Rachel? Max? What do we do now?"

Max was saying something, but her voice was drowned out by the noise of the tempest. Chloe took one hesitant step forward, locked herself into place, did it again, slowly, bit by bit.

"What?"

In an instant, a wave of heat passed over everything. Chloe heard a noise like a gunshot, following by the crackle and roar of a wildfire. Lightning had struck one of the trees nearby, and the flames were starting to spread.

Max and Rachel instantly went rigid. Bright blue light poured from their eyes, their mouths. The snakes of blue light shuddered, and then started to expand and spread, forming a dome of hot blue light spreading across the forest.

"MAX! RACHEL!"

The light sped faster, and consumed them.

All noise cut out.

Chloe opened her eyes. Everything was bathed in blue light, but distant, muted. The flames of the wildfire burned around them. Trees shook their branches into the dome, but everything was silent. There was only the tree, glowing bright. And Rachel and Max, clutching their heads, bleeding from their noses.

Chloe charged towards them, wrapping them both in an enormous hug. "Shit, I was freaking out! What happened? Are you okay?"

"I think so," said Max. Rachel nodded, too stunned to speak. They pulled apart, trying to get a sense of what new strange thing they'd been forced to deal with. In this dome outside of time, surrounded by blue light and red flame, the storm beating at the gates, they saw images floating past them. Doors, or little tears in the fabric of time.

Peering into one, Chloe saw herself tugging at her boot, stuck in the train tracks. In another, Rachel handed her a birthday present, intricately wrapped. Another showed Max and Chloe in bed at the motel.

"It's all the worlds," she said, almost to herself. "All the realities we changed with the power."

Max was at her side. "Just like the lighthouse we saw…we're here, outside of time. All these doors…Chloe, this is the choice! Which world to live in!"

"It's not that easy." Chloe and Max turned to see Rachel by their side. She sighed. "I remember, from…well, being inside my head? Being inside Arcadia Bay's head? Whatever. You can't…you can't just pick a reality and live there, not if you want to stop all the timelines intersecting."

Chloe felt her stomach drop. They were so close to finally being free!

"Then what do we do?" asked Max.

"It's like…it's like…" Rachel reached in the air, grasping for something she couldn't put into words. She tried again. "It's like a tree. Reality branching off into different directions every time we make a change with the power. One reality where the change happens, one where it doesn't. But it's a tree, right? All branches lead back to large branches. And we have three."

"When you got the power," said Max.

"When you did," said Rachel.

They both looked at her.

"And…when I did?"

Rachel nodded. "Right. Me, in the bunker. Max, in the bathroom. And Chloe…when you were in the desert?"

"When we tested out if the power still worked," said Max.

"Why does that count?" asked Chloe. "I mean, Max still had the power. It wasn't like a reality where I got it first. I never saw that one."

Rachel shook her head. "It's still a third attempt. Prospera – or whatever we're calling the thing behind the curtain – gave you the power. She wanted another batch of timeline attempts. She was learning, improvising."

"Okay, so we have three timelines to choose from?"

Suddenly Max's face fell. Chloe could see her start to shake, saw the tears forming on her face. "Max…what's wrong?"

"It's Rachel…if we go back to any of those three timelines, and the powers don't happen…"

No…

"That's not…it can't work like that, right? We can just go somewhere…pick another one…we can't…we can figure something out, right?" She paced, Max and Rachel staring at her. "Wait! I know, Rachel's body is here, right, won't she just get teleported?"

"No, Chloe," whispered Max. "We're going back to timelines where we already exist. We have to go back into those bodies. And Rachel…"

Rachel let out a long breath, and gave a slight shrug. "Guess I don't get a ticket back."

"No no no, no, that's not, it can't…" She looked from Max to Rachel, hoping for something, some spark of hope, something to hold on to while everything tore itself apart around her. She felt sick.

"Why do we always have to let the people we love die?! Are we still being fucked with?"

"There's...one other option," Max said. Chloe grabbed her hands, felt her pulse hammering fast.

"What?"

"We keep the doors open. We let all this pass, and we jump somewhere else."

"We keep on running," said Rachel. The three of them stood close to each other, eyes passing from face to face, trying to make the reality they were seeing make some kind of sense. "We don't let the realities separate. We keep making new worlds."

"And the storm?"

"It's always going to be there," said Max, her voice breaking. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "We can't stop it…"

"We might make something good, for a while," said Rachel. "Might be worth trying out."

Max shook her head slowly, tears flowing. "No...Rachel, I'm sorry, but I can't. I can't keep running. I have too many voices in my head, too many memories! If I stay…outside of time, I'm going to go insane. I need to go back!"

Rachel pulled her into a hug. "I know. It's okay. You can go." They lifted their heads, stared at each other. "Sorry we never got to know each other better. And thanks for…for looking for me."

"Me too…and I'm sorry we didn't find you in time."

Rachel kissed her on the cheek. "If you've had the chance, I know you would've saved me." She pulled away.

"I can see why Chloe loves you."

Rachel looked at her, finally.

"Does she? Love me?"

Is this what the world is? Finding something to hold on to, something good, and having it torn away? And then…getting it back and losing it again? Is this what Rachel is to me? That bright fire that's always on the edge of flicking out?

Let me remember as much as I can. Please.

Rachel saving me at the Firewalk show. Skipping school for her. Telling her my feelings in the junkyard. Throwing myself on the pyre for her and getting expelled. The Tempest show. Our kiss under the streetlights. Holding her on her bed while she processed the lie about her parents. Driving her to the hospital. Promising her I'd find her mom for her. Telling her the truth about her dad. All those days we spent in the junkyard. Getting tattoos. The first time we fucked. The second time. All the times. Getting high at the beach. The shows. Late night confessions. Waking up with her next to me.

Getting the call from her. Driving away to L.A., leaving everything behind. Finding our first place. Decorating with her. Watching movies on the couch, tangled up in each other. Kissing her, over and over. The parties. The shows. Robbing stores with her. The good moments before everything fell apart.

There's a lot of things I don't want to remember about her. About us. Let me hold onto those good moments.

"Always."

Suddenly she was in her arms, warm, alive, Rachel Amber, still alive? Still, that never stopped surprising her. She pressed her close, smelling the warmth of her, tasting the salt tears on her face.

Rachel fucking Amber.

She kissed her, for the last time.

She pulled away, trying not to look at Max. Failing. She saw the second-guessing, the worry. The 'does she love Rachel more than me' etched on her face.

Max Caulfield.

My friend. She means so much more to me than that word means, but in the end, it's still true. She's my best friend. Everything is better when she's here, even when the world's literally falling apart around us. She makes me glad to be alive. She makes me remember what it is to be happy. I'm learning new ways of feeling love with her. She knows everything about me. She's seen it all, back when we were kids, and now, through all these realities, through wandering through my own memories. She is the night sky, brilliant and clear and beautiful and endless and part of me.

Don't let me forget her, whatever happens with this fucking power.

Playing pirates on the swing-set. Sleepovers and drawing comic books and spilling wine on the floor. Treasure hunts and sword fights. Dreaming about our futures. Watching movies, singing songs. Campfires and marshmallows.

The way she hugged me when Mom came back through the door with the cops, falling to the floor. All those moments I can't forget, when fear and shame made her ignore me.

But then, she came back. Saved me in the bathroom. When I saved her from Nathan, pulled her into my car. Discussing superpowers and schemes in the Two Whales. Bottles in the junkyard. Walking across the train tracks holding her hand. The way she pulled the trigger on Frank for me. Sneaking into Blackwell. Our midnight swim in the pool. The quiet perfect morning, waking up next to her, daring her to kiss me and being surprised she did. Pieces together the clues, breaking into the bunker…holding me when we found what was buried in the junkyard. The party, how she stopped me, suddenly telling me all the horrible shit she went through while I was filled with sorrow and hate. Holding her through the storm. Watching the picture float through the sky as Arcadia Bay was destroyed.

A long drive. A motel kiss. Stories and confessions in the car. Time traveling together. Falling through time, saving my dad. Making that perfect new world. Years with her, going to Blackwell, kissing in corners, Christmases with our families. The band. A whole, brilliant little life.

And Max Caulfield, the one thing holding it together. Holding her together. Making life worth it, even after everything.

Stay with Rachel and journey through time forever?

Or go with Max, and face one world together?

There's always a storm, isn't there?

And there's always a choice.

But she'd already made it.

"I can't keep running. There will always be other versions of us, right? Living better lives and worse ones. But I…I have to face one. I need a world where I live with what I've done, and…and…move on. With Max."

Rachel's face flickered a moment, and for maybe the first time, Chloe knew exactly what she was feeling. She smiled through the tears. Nodded.

"Okay. I understand."

Chloe took a step forward, pulled Rachel into an embrace. One last time.

"Think we could've worked in the long run?"

Rachel smiled. "I'm going to try to find out."

Chloe swallowed her tears. "I hope you do. Tell her…tell me…I said hi."

A laugh, somewhere outside of time. "I will. You're the real thing, Chloe Price."

"You're amazing," she said. "Fuck, I…I'm sorry, I just…you saved me. You saved me."

Eventually, they pulled apart, and Chloe was face to face with Max.

"Are you sure?" she said, not daring to hope.

Chloe nodded. "Yeah. Here's my choice." She wrapped her arms around Max, pulled her close, hugged her like she was going to dissolve into mist again.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

They pulled apart, still holding hands, as the tears in time floated behind them. Max looked up at her.

"That wasn't the last choice, though."

"I know."

Two doors, now. The first, the world where Rachel got her powers. If they passed through, they'd be right when Rachel died in the bunker. Max wouldn't have even started Blackwell yet. But they'd remember – if this all went according to plan – so Chloe would survive. The timeline would be separate from the others, so the storm wouldn't come. Everyone would live – except Rachel.

The last door, the world where Chloe got her powers. They'd wake up in her car in the desert, in the weeks after Arcadia Bay was destroyed. No more storms, though. Only Max and Chloe, facing the rest of their future, without powers to help or hurt them. But Arcadia Bay would be gone, forever.

"We should go through the first door, right?" asked Max. "It's…that's a better world. Your mom, Warren, Kate…everybody…they'd all be okay."

"We could…we could get Jefferson and Nathan, knowing what we know. They'd be gone for a long time."

It made sense. This was the better world they'd dreamed of. Not perfect, but something better.

Then why did she keep drifting towards the last door?

"All of these worlds are going to keep existing, even if we don't go through, right?"

Max nodded. "Yeah. It's just like…our consciousnesses will…take over our bodies."

"We're still fucking with some other version of ourselves?"

"I don't think there's any other way. I hate it."

I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry to all of you.

"Max…we know there are other worlds. I know…I know somewhere my mom's still alive. Arcadia Bay is alive. Even Rachel."

She felt Rachel's hand on her shoulder. Realization dawned on Max's face.

"Right. This isn't about saving or dooming another reality."

"This is just about which one we get to live in. And which one we let another version of ourselves live in."

Max breathed out, slowly. "We have to live with what we did. And we shouldn't make some other version of us go through it without knowing."

"Yeah. We'll make it through. We'll remember them, all of them, in every reality. And we'll make ours better the old-fashioned way."

"Because we know."

"Yeah, because we know."

The final door floated before them. Somewhere behind it, hidden in the darkness, she could see her car parked on the side of the highway. The two of them would be inside, taking a selfie, just in case.

She looked at Max. Max looked at her.

"I'll see you on the other side," she said. Max reached up and took her face in her hands, and kissed her, and for a moment, Chloe remembered another time, when this was a goodbye kiss. Somehow, she still felt butterflies.

They broke apart, and Max Caulfield stepped inside the light and vanished.

Chloe turned around for one last look at the girl who saved her first. Rachel Amber stood in the brilliant blue light and waved.

"Bye, Rachel."

Chloe smiled back, and then turned, the door ahead of her.

This is it. I've made my choice.

She stepped inside the light.

It was always somewhere in the back of her mind. That thought. A worry, one that never seemed to be worth discussing. But always a possibility, right? Because, that's how time travel works.

A split in the river, in the thread, in the branch. That's what happens when you change time. You multiply timelines, break everything into two.

One where you time travel, where you change things, where you do what you were trying to do.

And the other.

The leftover.

Where nothing happens.

Where you stay in the same place.

The extra one.

The unresolved timeline.

The one where someone is left, confused, reaching out into empty space, the power failing.

She's not the only one.

Every time someone changes time, there must be another.

An endless spread of worlds where things didn't work out.

This all makes sense, as much as anything does. But it does not help her. It doesn't make it any easier for Chloe Price to step through the door and have it lead nowhere. It doesn't help her when she realizes what has happened, or in this case, what has not happened. It doesn't console her when she falls to her knees, when the image on the door shows another Max, and another Chloe, reconciling, safe in their one, imperfect world together.

What does console her, as she heaves, as she cries, as she realizes that whatever other Max she ever finds, trapped in an endless series of realities, won't be the same one she's been with…what consoles her then?

Who. The question is 'who consoles her?'

Rachel Amber holds her, lets her cry against her, rocks her slowly, watching the flames curl around the edges of their pocket of time, watches as the storm – the last storm and the first storm – consumes this new timeline, this branch back at the beginning. Who knows what brave new world will be made here, when its creators leave?

Because they do leave. Because Chloe knows that if she tries to step through the portal again, it will only make yet another world, and another Max. One who she could love, but one who isn't hers. Not in the way she needs.

Because, as her tears dry, and she sinks into the arms of Rachel Amber, she smiles. Because another Chloe, the same Chloe as her, if she lets herself think of it this way, the original Chloe to which she is just a Replicant, that Chloe…she won. Her and Max will have their one, imperfect world. And she can watch them, and know that in all of the endless realities, she's happy in so many of them. There are so many Williams and Joyces and Rachels and Maxes…and Chloes.

And so she takes hold of Rachel Amber's hand, and watches the blue light dance between them. This one door, even now receding from her, is closed. But there are so many new doors to open. And this Rachel, this one is hers. Maybe they'd get their chance to try.

After all, they have nothing but time.