Trigger warning, themes of self harm

* Tuesday, 10:01 a.m., After the Storm *

How can she ask this?

The seats in the truck creak as Max moves her weight backwards.

How can she do this to me?

Her breathing speeds up

After everything.

Borderline hyperventilating.

She wants me.

Air passing her lungs too fast.

To choose.

Spots appear before her eyes.

Again.

The cliff is before her. So easy to see. Hear. Taste. Water on her lips. Maybe tears. In her hand rests a butterfly. Behind her, a person keeps telling Max to save the Bay. Before her, ruination. Rocks and trees and cars and boats are flung. A tantrum of destruction, the Lincoln Logs of Arcadia's residents knocked over without a thought.

Before the panic attack could fully set in, slender fingers dig into her shoulders. They grab, pulling her forward. They meet around her back, arms following their path. A chest touches her cheek. Pressure. Words break through.

'...so sorry I did that. I'm so sorry. I take it back. Please let me take it back...'

Nothing moves. The instance before she rips butterfly wings off. No sound, but she hears the torment of the Storm as it moves, saunters, towards the first and last home she's known. A shiver, having everything to do with her state of mind, on the cusp of shaking her apart.

Her forehead damp, Max leans into the embrace, returning it. Clutching tightly. A whimper escapes, but that's all.

'...to just stay here. I need that. Don't go off and...'

Right now she needs to save or condemn the people before her. The thousands of lives she will forever change. The ones she will snuff out. The ones better off dead. Four hundred and thirty one. What about the dying? The paralyzed. The homeless. The forgotten. The orphaned and the childless. Four hundred and thirty one. A small number compared to the real figure. Thousands hurt and lost and broken and plain old unlucky. Unlucky to be standing in the way of the Storm. Unlucky to be stand in Max's way.

The words beat through the emptiness of her mind. They take meaning, in spurts and starts.

'...love you. Always. Just breath. I love...'

Can't do it. Can't do it again. Can't let those people die again. I can choose differently. I can save them and save Chloe and save Kate and Warren and Rachel-

'...not you. Not your fault...'

It is. It is my fault. It is it is it is-

'IT IS!'

Chloe jumps in place. Her own sobs increase.

Max is silent.

A tentative, even hesitant, sound escapes between the wracking of the taller girls chest.

'max'

Don't say anything. Just. Just quiet. Just let me have this.

'i'm sorry'

No don't say that don't say it.

'it's all my fault'

no

Max leans her head back.

'Never say that.'

A hand brushes her face, showing a glisten of tears on it. I'm crying? It comes back, lightly grasping her head, thumb softly rubbing her temple. Blue eyes peer back from under bright blue locks, from under dark blue beanie.

'Max, I'm the reason-'

'Never say that.'

'Max?'

Lips crash together, silencing anything else to be said. Desperate. No, needful. Max needs this. She needs the touch. She needs Chloe to be here and make everything okay. Like the woods, the first time. With wild force, she needs to know Chloe is here. That she's safe. That she's whole and fine and worth-

After a moment, she can't keep it in. The guilt, it's too much. Her lips pull back, unable to find their compliment. A rictus grips her mouth. Still momentary bits of love bleed through as she still seeks to find it. That meaning, that reason for so much-

She buries herself into Chloe's chest. Listening for a beat. Over her own whines of pain, she hears it. A lifeline back to-

Some time later, the sobbing stops. The energy is spent. Once, she tried to vomit, her protesting stomach unable to keep up with the waves of emotion and pain playing out. Knees tucked up into her chest, she still listens for the beating heart.

The car is cold, now. Not from the October day. The warmth of the sun still burns into Max's face. Into her eyes, if she opens them.

The cold is in her bones.

'chlo'

The pulse beats twice as fast, for a moment. Arms shift. The sound of a kiss and the brushing of lips against hair.

'yes, max?'

'why did you do that?'

'because... because you weren't here. because you weren't you.'

'i didn't want to feel that.'

'i know. i'm sorry.'

Silence reigns again.

'chloe?'

'yes?'

'that hurt.'

'yes.'

'you hurt me.'

Shifting. Arms drawing patterns as the two gain some distance. Yet refusal to let go. The distance is not so great.

'You hurt me, Chlo.'

'I know. I meant to.'

Blurry blue eyes lock on blurry blue.

'Why?'

The bluenette gathers herself.

'Because you needed it.'

Those eyes turn away.

'Because, Max, you need to deal with this world. And I do too.'

Deal? How do I deal? How do face the fact I'm a murderer, a serial killer?

'Chloe-'

'Max, you think you did this... this thing. That you did it. We did. We did it and we need to choose how we deal with it.'

'Deal with it? Deal with it? How do you suggest we deal with it?' The venom of Max's voice pools in her lap. 'How are we going to make this better? How do we fix this? You got some magic power I don't know about?' She dips a hand through that poison, drawing forth more anger. She shoves the broken wings in front of Chloe's wide eyes. 'Or maybe I should use this. You want me to go back, save everyone. You want to leave so badly. You want to leave me so bad-'

As abruptly as she started, her words stop.

Chloe is rocked. Moving slowly, she gently pries apart Max's fingers, removing the picture. Placing it on the console, turning back to the brunette, she searches for the right words.

'Max, I don't-' Beat. 'I can't-' Beat. 'Max.' Gently, dealing with a wild animal, Chloe turns the smaller girl's head towards her, searching for contact. 'I never want to leave. I never want to be away from you. But we're not dealing with our wants right not. This is about what we need.' Hesitant fingers trace through brown hair. 'I need you to be better. With or without me, I need you to be who you were, because this new you...'

Is a monster.

'...is killing me. Seeing you broken is... is worse than that first moment seeing my mother in that hospital. Worse than seeing Arcadia Bay breaking apart in front of me. Worse than... than finding Rachel. You're walking around like a ghost. I... I have enough ghosts in my life. I can't see you self-destruct this way.'

A small voice issues.

'you don't want me'

'That's not what I meant-'

'you don't want who i am.'

'Max, I love you.'

'why do you want to get away from me?'

'-don't want to get away-'

'-is it because i am this monster-'

'-stop saying-'

'-know that i am. i just have to figure out-'

'Stop it!' A shaking of the younger girl's shoulders. 'You don't have anything to figure out. We do. Stop doing this. Stop taking all the blame.'

'i did it.'

'Fucking stop!' Again, wet eyes. 'Stop taking this away from me. Stop shouldering this whole burden. I'm just as responsible as you are. I could have made you stop the Storm. I could have forced you to do it.'

'it was all me.'

'Quit being so self-righteous about all this. You want blame? Take some. I'll get my own. You don't have a monopoly on it. Because if you want to bear the responsibility for all those lost lives, I'll take responsibility for your decision. You made it over me.'

No answer.

'You finally get it? You finally understand? Me. People died for me. My mother... she almost... For me. You made that choice for both of us and-'

Hands clasp over her mouth before more could be said.

'and what, chlo?'

'And...' Pain washes over the bluenette. She doesn't want to say. 'And you keep going on how bad a person you are. What does that make me? I'm the reason you had that choice. And I'm still happy to be alive. Here. With you. How am I supposed to deal with that?'

God, I'm so sorry.

'You think I want to leave you? I never want to leave your side. I know how much I mean to you. And I know how much I'm worth in this world. I just... can't do the math on this.'

Hands shake. A lighter trembles, trying and failing to light a cigarette.

'I-I don't know how I'm worth this m-much to anyone. I don't know how I can make my life equal to four hu-hundred other ones. You decided I was worth that. I-I have to live with that too.'

oh

'So every t-time you second guess your decision to save me, you're telling me...'

Finally the lighter clicks.

'You're telling me I wasn't worth it. I'm not worth it. And- and I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do to make you commit to this world. To me. So I kept the photo. So that you could fix all this if it was a mistake.'

Neither speaks for some time. Neither wants to air the doubts they are feeling.

'You could never be a mistake.'

'You say that, and then you say how bad of a person you are for picking me. How can you expect me to deal with that? Oh, me being alive, that's fine. But all those dead people?'

'I didn't realize.'

'I know you didn't. And I'm so mad about that. I'm so, so mad that... That you don't even realize how you've been affecting me.'

'You didn't have to choose.'

'You weren't the only one standing on that cliff!'

'You don't have powers!'

'So?' The indignation is plain on Chloe's face. 'I was there. I was there the whole time. Step by step, all the way. I was there.'

'No you weren't! You weren't in the Dark Room!'

Even before the words left her mouth, she wishes she could take them back. Her hand raises from her lap.

Another hand forces it back down.

'No. You don't get to rewind this. You don't get to do it over.' A calm look falls over Chloe, directly contrasting the rage she feels. 'What do you mean?'

'You-' At a loss. 'You didn't go through that. You didn't go through what that shit-stain did to me.'

A tilting of her head. 'Yeah. I was dead.'

'Exactly. And I'm not doing that again. I'm not going to live, through that, without you again. I will not.'

'Max, it didn't happen.'

'No. You do not get to preach to me about how my decisions are ours and then tell me that being tortured by that, that sadistic fuck didn't happen. Or watch you die over and over. Or Kate dying, or Victoria, or Frank. Everyone I, no, we. Everyone we hurt last week, or got hurt, or we tried to hurt... You really want responsibility? Fine.' In her tirade, she has backed up against the passenger door, arms folded and a flash in her eyes. 'We spent all of last week keeping you alive. We broke down time and brought the Storm here. We killed War- people. We did all this. So now we have to decide whether or not I'm going back and undoing all this shit.'

Max keeps her hands hidden, to prevent Chloe from seeing them tremble.

'It was real. All of it was real. Every moment, with or without you, whether it exists in this time line or not. It's all real to me. And even if I go back, I'll know what I did. I'll see Warren and know that the only reason he's alive is because I got to do it over. My own little cosmic get out of jail.'

Feigning more confidence than she feels.

'So, let's do this. Do you want me to do it? I mean, sure, N-nathan will get caught, go to jail. Probably. Jefferson too. Probably. I'm sure Kate will be fine, it's not like she's g-gonna kill herself.'

'Max, stop being so harsh.'

'No, let's talk about this. A couple of murderers should still be caught. And I'm sure Joyce and David will get over it.'

'Max, don't-'

'I mean, we'll just talk about those affected if you die. Me. Joyce. David. That's it, right? Maybe Frank, you think? You won't be able to pay him back, though.'

'Max, why the fuck are you-'

'So just the four of us. Joyce and David have each other. They'll be fine eventually. Frank, well, he's just losing his best customer. So, just me. I'm the one left all alone. Not like that really changes much.'

'Stop being such a bitch.'

'You don't get it. Did you think I was joking last night? Do you really think I'd last a week? It's- it's one thing, up on that hill, doing nothing. I didn't know what was going to happen. I just knew people would get hurt. Now, you want me to go back. You want me to pull the trigger on you myself.'

'It's not like that and you-'

'HOW IS IT DIFFERENT?'

The shrillness of Max's voice echos around the two girls. Fists balled, eyes tight shut. Blocking out the world.

She pushes off the hand that touches her arm. Not wanting the contact.

'Chloe, you are asking me if I want to murder you.' Finally opening her eyes, she stares at the expanse between them. 'How could you?'

'Max...'

'How is it any different than up there? Why would I choose differently? I already decided once. Why are you making me do it again?'

The pain on the other girl's face shows her realization. Shows that she finally understands what the photo means to Max. What the offer means to her. As self-sacrificing as she thought it would be, Max sees it as homicide.

'You're asking me to pull the trigger.'

Max stares at her hands. Imagining.

'I already can't wash it off.'

Still staring down.

'We already know there's something wrong with... with everything. Time. How would me fucking it up more help?'

Rubbing her hands together, lightly. Staring at her right palm, lightly tracing her palm lines. Following the crease of her fate line, from between her index and middle fingers down nearly to her wrist.

'What if I can't change fate? What if I go back and choose the same thing? What if I'm not strong enough to let Nathan kill you?'

Looking up. Making contact.

'What would happen to me?'

Asking.

'I'd choose to kill these people. For real this time. Not some lie I can make up about not knowing what would happen. I'd actively be killing Warren and Brooke and everyone else for you.'

Pleading.

'I can't make a decision like that again. I can't choose everyone's fate knowing exactly what was going to happen.'

Breaking.

'I'd sit there and-and just freeze and let you bleed and I wouldn't even really decide I would just panic and- and...'

Shaking.

'...And I would just let the world take you away. I would let you die, knowing I could prevent it. Or...'

Apart.

'...I really would kill everyone. Intentionally.'

Finally, trembling and weak, a hand reaches across and grips it's like.

'I can't do that again. I can't choose again.'

Pulling the small girl forward. Smoothing her hair.

'I understand, Max.'

The wall collapses.

Days of turmoil have come to their head. The numbness of the last few days is gone. The crux of Max's pain, the center of her, is finally exposed.

What would I do?

All the confidence of that moment on the cliff seems like nothing more that childish illusions. Evaporating on a warm Spring day. The moment plays over and over. She sees, clearly, the point where she tears the photo. That was meant to take away her future choices. It was meant to prevent her from ever second-guessing her decision.. But doubt cannot be tossed aside like trash. Guilt cannot be hidden.

Could I ever choose to save them?

The one thought Max refused to ask herself. Could she, knowing the future, choose to save the people of Arcadia Bay instead of Chloe? That question haunted her subconscious.

The- the morals. It would be me shooting Chloe. Or shooting hundreds of people. Who would I kill?

And in that moment, there is no answer. There won't be an answer. A person can't know the answer to a question like that, without being in that situation. That moment.

Max can go to that moment.

She's just too afraid.

Afraid what it would say about her. If she really is this monster. If she really would willingly trade away all those lives for one person. Or if she could sacrifice the person she loves for... strangers. Relatively speaking. If she could live in a world alone, just to let others live. Is it selfish to want Chloe in her life?

Yes.

But, really?

Are the convenient lies she told herself lies at all? She doesn't know if a single death would prevent the Storm. Or prevent the Whirlpool.

Heart and mind have ceased their cold war. There is nothing else her body can do but let them fight inside her.

This isn't fair. No one should be able to make these decisions. No one should have to go through this.

Arms move, releasing their pressure. In terror, Max grips tighter at a torso she has no memory of touching. A flick, a quiet sizzle. A smell of burnt plastic.

Emerging, she sees a photograph turning to ash.

'Max, I can't take away the pain how I want to. I can't undo the past. But I can keep you from reliving it.'

Blue wings turn yellow and red and black.

'I won't give you the option of going back. You keep tearing yourself up because of what you could change. You'll never get a chance to heal if I don't remove this option.'

'Chlo...'

'It's... all I can do. This time, I'm deciding for you.'