* Sunday Night, Just Before Bed, After the Storm *

Hours of discussion later and Max is still wired. The trio had gone back to the hospital right after the explanation to Kate. After parental check-ins and saying goodnight to the blonde, Chloe and Max move down to the faculty showers. The facilities were being made public for those whose homes were destroyed as well as their family. So late at night, the dozen or so showers set aside for women were empty.

They needed the showers.

'I don't get why we need two stalls.'

'You're such a dork, Chlo.'

'I mean, if anything we'd be conserving water. Always good during a crisis.'

'Let's get to second base before you try to steal home.'

A rattling of the nearby shower door. 'Yes. Let's.'

She's unsustainable. 'That's not an invitation!'

Max can hear the pout on the bluenette's face. 'But Maxi-pad. I'm cold and wet. Help me.'

She is impossible. A wolfish grin. I wish I actually minded. The warm water and scrubbing of her scalp helps keep her stall locked. Not sure my resolve can handle this otherwise.

Exiting, Max finds her girlfriend's back turned as Chloe dries her hair. Must look away. But easier said than done. It takes a bit more will to do so than the brunette expects. Why am I staring at her bare back? She glances around the lockers again. Purely scientific exploration. Not sure if I'm really into girls but I'm definitely into that.

Without further interruption they dress and head to the cafeteria for a post-midnight meal. We really need new threads. These have seen better days.

'So, Max-n-cheese or spaghetti and Max-balls?'

'Please stop Chloe, you're starting to reach too hard.'

'I'll show you what's hard-' Her smile drops. 'Yeah, definitely trying to be too punny.' She eyes the lukewarm food with much reduced enthusiasm.

Such. A. Dork. 'They have Jello...'

'I've been lied to before.'

'It's cherry...'

'Oh, gimmie!'

Plans laid out between bites.

'Dad said he's got a room we can crash in at the recovery-outpatient-thingy building across the parking lot. They converted all the therapy rooms and he got one for us if needed.'

A mouthfull of gelatinous cherry stains Chloe's mouth crimson. 'I never knew the hospital was so big.'

'Yeah.' A swallowed spoonful of cheesy pasta. 'It's been worrying me, actually.'

Gaze switches from Max's untouched dessert to her eyes. 'Why?'

'The hospital is huge. Like, way too big for Arcadia Bay. There are major hospitals in Seattle smaller than this.'

'So?'

'The Prescott's built it.'

'Ah. Now you have my attention. Could be something to look into.'

'My thoughts exactly.' More munching. 'You think they involved with this new wibbly-wobbly?'

'I don't know. It would give a nice excuse to go after Sean Prescott.'

'Yeah.' Max stares at the fork hovering over her plate. 'Oh, just eat my damn pie.'

'Thanks.' A mouthfull of pumpkin pie slightly distorts Chloe's voice. 'You see, this is why I love you.'

A stutter in both their bites.

The remainder of the meal is quiet.

Cleaning up. By unspoken consensus they make their way outside and over to their temporary shelter. Finding the right room.

'Someone threw a bed in a shrink's office.'

'Don't complain Chlo.'

'Am not. I'd just expect one of those super comfy couches instead.'

Max eyes the makeshift bedroom dubiously. Medical texts surround the room, an empty desk pushed to the outside wall. A plain pair of armchairs sit by the door. The medical bed is long enough but quite narrow. I can probably make do if I arrange the chairs the right way. Better than last night, sitting up in that metal one.

'Hey, spare scrubs.' A wad of clothes hits the brunette in the chest. ' Something should fit. Change outta those skank threads.' Chloe already has rummaged up her own pajamas. 'So, big or little spoon?'

Blush rises. 'Um, Chloe...'

The taller girl sighs. 'Max, I know, and there's no reason to make this weird.' She turns her back and begins to strip. Max quickly follows suit. 'We've slept in the same bed dozens of times.'

'...not, um, while dating...'

Turning back, fully scrubbed up, Max sees what the bluenette decided as proper sleep attire. Nurse pants and... bra. Why is this so weird?

'Damn, your head is gonna pop.' She crosses the empty space, grabbing the smaller girl's hands. Serious face. 'Max, stop worrying. You look kind of freaked out and there's no reason to.'

'It's just... different. Now.'

'No, it isn't. First off, this is so not the place to make a move on you. Second, we are both so not ready for any hanky-panky.'

'Hanky-panky? Seriously?' Like, really?

'Shush.' She cocks her head to the right. 'Finally, we're best friends. For, like, forever. Hell, you saw more swimming last week.' Chloe regards herself. 'Same bra too, I think.'

Yup... 'I-I know Chlo. I just never wanted to, you know, look before.'

'Oooh. You checking me out Caulfield?' The answer look lets her know she's pushing a bit hard. 'Oh, stop. You may not have looked, but I did.'

Please, someone, kill me now. 'this isn't helping.'

'Yeah, well, you're tough enough to take a compliment.' Max covers her face. 'No, no hiding now. Max, you don't get it, do you?' Chloe leads them to the bed, sitting them down.

'Get what?'

'How beautiful you are?'

Sure. The whole tom-boy look really gets people going. Maybe if puberty had kicked in harder...

'Max, wow, you really don't think your attractive.'

'I- I guess I might be cute if I didn't-'

'Again shush.' Chloe rummages through their bags until William's camera it's found. 'Okay, look at me. Now, believe me whole hearted when I say this.' She lifts the machine so Max is eyes to lens.

'I love you.'

Really?

Click.

Chloe removes the picture from the camera front, setting them both aside to lean in. Cupping both sides of Max's face, they kiss. Not forcefully but insistently. It starts slow, building in depth and intensity until all Max can think of is continuing this way. Only when she begins to run out of breath does they part.

'Wowzers.'

A smirk, biting of the lower lip, is Chloe's responce. Grabbing the photo, she explains it to her companion. 'You know what I see when I look at this? A young women who means everything to me. A beautiful person. Someone so beautiful in my eyes she can't realise it. Ironic for someone so great at seeing the beauty in the world around her.'

dammit, chloe

'She's someone who walks through Hell for others. Someone who saves others. I understand how messed up you are. I am too. But, Max, you have got to start seeing yourself how others see you.' Three pecks. Mouth, nose, forehead.

'Chloe, I-'

How can I be this person she's describing?

'I don't know how you think I could be this person. After everything I did...'

'You did for me. For us. In spite of the result. God, do you realise how romantic it is? Defy fate and time and whatever other forces to keep me alive?' A sniff, and quickly wiped eyes. 'Dammit.' Trying to regain composure, and failing. 'I can only begin to understand the pain you took on for me.'

'i. i can deal with that pain. i got you.'

'Sh-shit. It's like you c-can't even help it.' The girl lies back, pulling Max with her and curling against her. 'Max, no one ever did something like this for me before. S-sure, people tried to help me with my pain. You don't help. You just take it away. Like it was never mine.'

Oh, Che. Oh, you were so broken.

'Y-you don't help me. You just do. I n-needed you and y-you came back.' She has difficulty catching her breath. Panic attack?

But the pain subsides, in time. Exhausted, both of them, Chloe peeks from under her beenie to play with the younger girl's hair while Max just holds her.

Their voices cannot be raised anymore. It is the time for whispers.

'that's why i'm worrying you.'

'...yeah.'

'because you think everything kinda broke me. changed who i am.'

'yeah. and...'

A shift, a question.

'and?'

'and you are- too into me. too focused on me.'

'what? i don't get it.'

'i hurt people, max. want to or not. it's just what happens. i can't stand hurting you. or you, hurting yourself, for me.'

'chloe, the more we care about someone, the more we can hurt them. and the more they hurt us.'

Silence.

'max?'

'yeah?'

'i love you.'

'i love you too.'

Peace.

* Sunday Night, Just Before Bed, After the Funeral *

Hours of conversation later and Max is exhausted. She never went back to see Warren, instead texting him the discovery. A few more messages and Max assures him they would start first thing after class tomorrow.

Warren would never play hooky.

I don't really want to, either. I need some normalcy. Something not so messed up.

Even if it is the slog of high school.

Now if I could get rid of Victoria...

The blonde is in full motor mouth mode. Heh, alliteration. Since the blow-up, melt-down, yell-fest, she has barely paused in the narration of her thoughts and theories. The who, how, and why are no closer to reveal. Doesn't stop Victoria from pulling from the Four Greats of Sci-fi Film, Spielberg, Lucas, Abrams, and Scott. I'd argue over two of those. JJ? Really? And Star Wars is barely Sci-fi. Roddenberry is a better choice.

'Maybe it's-'

'I swear to Dog, Victoria. If you say ancient aliens, I'm going to fluff up your hair and post the pictures on Facebook.'

A harumph. Did not know that was a real sound. 'Fine. But you know Warren is going to suggest the same thing.'

'True, but let's deal with one trope at a time.'

Victoria grows quiet, again silently stroking the neck of the guitar beside her on the couch.

'Do you play? I mean, any musical instruments, Vicky?'

She states somewhat wistfully at the instrument. 'Piano, when I was younger. Not since I was twelve, at least.' She picks up the guitar, cradling it gently and, surprise, places her fingers to strike E minor. It rings quietly in the dark room. 'I learned the seven basic chords last year but never pursued it.' She studies her nails, frowning. 'Always wanted to, but it does a number on your manicure.'

'Here, gimme.' Really going to do this? Something simple, some... Got it! Three chords, easy progression. Max slightly tunes the guitar and strikes an open C. 'It's been a while, so no hate. My fingering might be off if I forget something.'

Nice warm-up intro. The first verse, sans words, goes without a hitch. On the second verse, both girls begin to sing, softly, as if on cue.

Children, wake up.

Hold your mistake up

Before they turn the summer into dust.

If the children don't grow up,

Our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up.

We're just a million little gods causin' rain storms,

Turnin' every good thing to rust.

I guess we'll just have to adjust.

Max loses her voice, cracking at "rust", but she finishes the melody, humming as Victoria sings the outro to completion. The final strum echos quietly around them, a smothering weight on the mood but a lightening in their minds.

Max finds herself first. 'Didn't think you'd know Arcadia Fire.'

Dead pan responce. 'Really. An album called Funeral, from a Canadian band, unknown to a Seattle hipster artist? Max, give me some credit.'

'Okay. Touché. But you always seem to be playing EDM or whatever. Bleeps, sweeps, and creeps.' Please get the refrence.

'Well electronica, I find, is best experienced as a concussive force. Around you. Not in your ears but also with your body.' She grins. 'Something like Wake Up is more intimate. Headphones, keeping it in your own little space.'

'An anthemic song...'

'You are not going to win this argument.'

Max throws up a hand, smiling and conceeding. 'Totally agree with you.' A frown responce to a flinch. 'What's wrong?'

Startling. A bit embarrassed. 'You just... your hand. You put it up like... like you showed me. Like you were...'

Like when I rewind.

She fears me?

'Oh, uh. Sorry?' Max mimics the earlier harumph, not quite the same quality. 'You, uh. You don't have to be afraid. I'm not going to do anything like that. Especially when we're just, you know, talking.'

'I'm not... Okay, I am afraid. A bit. You have some real freaking power in that hand of yours.' Mostly embarrassed now. 'Forgive me?'

Damn. Gotta be careful I don't freak out the normies. 'Nothing to it. I mean, seriously, you never need to fear me Victoria.' Wow, she's turning redder.

'I know. And that's not true, fully. Dammit, Max, you got full-fledged magic powers going on. This puts the ancient Greeks to shame. I can't help feeling a little afraid.'

Yeah. I know.

'I know. But, I mean, I could never, you know, use it for myself.'

Not this week. Not after all the selfish crap you did last week you mean.

'I know that Max. At least, I know you believe that.'

She's never going to trust you.

'This is about earlier.'

'Yeah...'

Never.

'You dont trust me.'

'I do! Mostly.' A hasty addendum.

'Crap, Victoria. We going to argue again?' Frustration threatens to boil over. The hand still gripping the guitar neck tightens, causing a creak to issue. 'What can I do to show you I'm... okay, not fine. But not crazy. Or do you want to just pick another fight?'

'Geeze, bite my head off. And I'm not being unreasonable here. That was some messed up stuff earlier.' She's gaining steam. 'Whay kind of friend would I be to just ignore it?'

'I thought we weren't friends.'

'...and i thought we were.'

Victoria stands, straight for the door.

'wait.' Max looks for her voice. 'Please, stop. I can't keep fighting you.' Victoria pauses, hand on handle. 'I'm sorry.'

'Why? Why are you sorry this time, Max?'

'Because...'

Why?

Because I'm on a hairpin trigger. Because I'm not dealing with everything in a healthy manner. Because we are friends, as strange as that is.

Because you're wrong, Max.

'Because you're right, Victoria. Everything, absolutely everything you've said is one hundred percent accurate. I'm a mess, at best. Unstable at worst. We are friends.' A small feeling touches Max's chest. 'I already knew everything you said today. But...'

'God, I hate it when you use that word.' Victoria towers over the sitting brunette. 'But it's different hearing someone else say it.'

'How do you know me so well?'

Laughter. She's laughing at me. But-dammit, again-I'm okay with that. From her, in this time, it's okay to be laughed at.

'Max, you are the most obvious person I know. First, you can't lie. It's just not possible. And that's because you wear your emotions all over your face. When you lie, you feel bad, and you always look like you want to completely do the conversation over.' She catches herself. 'Which is pretty ironic.'

Not just that. True, too. I have done a lot of awkward interactions over.

'Plus, I've said this before. You don't care about the opinions of others. You are just you.'

'You can be like that Victoria. You've shown me today.'

'If I was acting like I felt today, I'd be a babbling idiot in the corner. Or mute from the screaming. Or... It doesn't matter.' She sits next to Max, moving the guitar out of the way. 'You are one of the strongest people I know. Before the superpowers. Now...'

Hesitation. 'I'm not sure time travel really adds to this power you see.'

'No, and that's my point.' Victoria brings the clasped hands in front of them both, shaking Max's right. 'This doesn't make you more powerful. What you endured. That is your strength. You made the greatest personal sacrifice I've ever heard of and you're still here. Mostly.'

'And that is why I'm scared.'

Because you're crazy. You are a jigsaw puzzle with no corners.

'Because you seem to be breaking. God, the strongest person I know, and if you can't handle this, I'm screwed.'

She doesn't get it. She doesn't see your turmoil.

She sees everything else.

You know better. You know how weak you are.

Am I?

Yes.

All day long, all days long, I argue with myself. I doubt. I remain quiet. Why? I can take charge. I can lead.

You follow. You follow Victoria's instructions. Warren's explanations. Directions from your teachers and parents.

Not last week.

No. Then you were just following her lead. Taking her strength and passing it off as your own. Admit it, to yourself at least. Without Chloe?

You. Are. Nothing.

'Vicky...' Max can't stop anymore. She falls apart, melting. All her will is just... gone.

Who am I anymore?

'You are Maxine fucking Caulfield.'

I said that out loud?

'You are the eighteen year old woman who made time her bitch. You stared down fucking murderers and didn't blink. You saved lives and got justice. You are a certified goddamn hero.' The blonde does her best to keep Max from breaking. 'I know this. You know this. No one else needs to see. No one else matters.'

Quiet.

Not silence.

Just a calm quiet time.

'...never maxine...'

Neither can stop the giggles. Nervious tension needs to dissipate. 'Fine. But you got to stop with this "Vicky" nonsense.'

'...never tell a time lord what to do...'

More broken ice.

Victoria sobers up. 'Okay. Maybe you heard me this time. But I am going to routinely kick your ass like this. As often as necessary.' She hesitates before continuing. 'Which means I need to ask you for something. Two things, really.'

'What?'

'First, a selfie. We need that safety net for everything that might happen.'

Sure.

'Sure.' Max rummages through her bag. Click, flash, and a few shakes later. 'I look terrible.'

Victoria takes it, evaluating. 'You look beat up, tired, and stoic. And still better than me first thing in the morning.' The blonde tucks it away. 'Now, number two. I trust you, Max. Even when I'm scared of all this. I need you to trust me the same way. Completely. For this to work. Not to prove your trust. So I know what I'm doing is working. That I am, in fact, helping.'

'I need the butterfly photo.'

NO!

but

NO! SHE'LL DESTROY IT! YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO GO BACK!

but

YOU'LL NEVER SAVE HER!

good

WHAT?!?

good. i don't need the temptation. i don't need the weight. i- i can't save her. never could, that way.

'...what will you do with it?'

'No. You need to hand it over, no questions.'

Max pulls it from her bag. Slightly wrinkled. She stares. She feels the edge of it. The edge of the window to that moment. She sees all of it. The touches, the laughter. The flirting and coy looks. The dare. The finale. So easy to focus on-

Max hands over her pain.

'Thank you.' Victoria hugs her hard. Max holds on for dear life. 'I will keep it safe.'

Max feels lips press against her forhead. Victoria is closing the door behind her. 'Goodnight, Max. And thank you.'

Author's note:

The end of Sunday, day two. Couldn't leave the characters on such a dour note before bed. And, to be up front, some of this is hard to write. A sentence might have 5 or 6 attempts before I'm satisfied. And I'm still not satisfied with some of it. The big issue I'm running into is the fact I'm writing all this on my phone. Broken computer isn't helping the pace of updates.

The other big issue, for my writing, is the way I plan my scenes. I visualize them as scenes out of a movie. So when I write, I hate using phrases like 'she stands still, getting more frustrated'. You can easily just see and understand that on screen. I prefer something more like stage ditections. 'Frustration'. It makes my text much shorter, though. A worry I know shouldn't matter. It also means that while I know everything that the word 'Frustration' implied, I worry I'm not being close to as clear as I intend. The real plague I avoid: 'She says _'. Of course she says that. The character is allowed to keep talking. It's why there are a lot of proper names in my dialogue, so who says what is easier to track. But being too concise puts a lot on you, the reader, which I know can suck.

Anyway, next up: Monday. Finally.