Chapter XIII: The Project - Friday


AN:

Hey there, Fan-fic-folks!

Sorry for the delay in uploading. I've been hella busy this year trying to plan for my final year dissertation experiment.

The second scene with Jefferson here was so hard to write. I was trying for a "I could photograph any of you in a dark corner" type exchange, but I'm not sure if it came off right. There isn't exactly a photographic technique alluding to being marooned on a desert island and experimented on by crazy mad-scientist types, and while I was tempted to make a castaway joke, I'm not really sure if it's IC for Jefferson to just yell "Wilson!" at random. :)

Oh, and I have a question for y'all. If you had a time machine about the size of an Iphone that could take you 30,000 years into the past or future, where would you go? I've got a time travel story planned, and I'm curious if there's anything in particular y'all would want from it. (For those of you who've seen this already, I'm just gonna be copy-pasting it onto every post I make until I manage to upload this planned story.)

Thanks for reading and, as always, please review.

The romantic insanity Chapter 9 Comment:

That is a GREAT freaking name. Mind if I ask where it came from?

And yep. Been reading that webcomic since the days of Block Colours from MS Paint and Faye never using contractions. Needed Chloe to have a job, and there it was.

MaxNeverMaxine:

Seriously? Ugh. I will never, ever understand your country. Half of it makes no sense at all.

They certainly are. And they're only gonna pick up more from here. I was getting kinda bored of not having Max being active, so I've kickstarted everything into motion now. Gonna start bringing in a few more of her powers in the next few chapters too, give y'all a real idea of what she can do. (And yes, I planned out what the powers of each of the 26 letter series are, including limits/drawbacks. #ObsessiveDetail).

Heh. I like that. Might have to use it. :)

Guest:

Thank you. I can't take credit for either though, I'm afraid. Artemis is based on a character called Montolio deBrouchee from R.A Salvatore's Drizzt Do'Urden series, and the Crossbow is a direct lift from the Oddsworld Stranger video game.

Loatroll:

You sir, make an excellent point. And I would do it, if my brain didn't have this weird perfectionist-detail bent that kicked in whenever I tried. If I know something is true in my setting, I find it really hard to go against it. It's useful for D&D campaigns, not so much for Real-World settings.

Anyways, thank you, and hope you like this one too!

Guest Chapter 10 Comment:

I know, right? Did not see that one coming. :)

Aaron Leach:

Thanks Aaron. Always good to see you're still sticking around. :) Hope you enjoy this one too.

Momijifan Low-Ki:

TMI, Momiji. TMI. :D

Glad you're uh... enjoying yourself, though. I was quite happy to finally get to officially introduce those elements too. This story was moving so damn slowly, I was getting hella bored. :) And sure, if 'glorious' is a semi-traumatised Max running away and hiding in her cave for a few months. :D


I return to Blackwell to find a perfectly silent morning. It was so quiet, I could hear the grass rustling under my feet as I walk up to the wall near my window. I close my eyes, concentrate for a moment, and jump up onto the wall. There's a second where I think it's not going to work and I'm going to fall back into Samuel's flower beds, but my hands stick to the wall as they always do, and I crawl up it to my window.

I pull myself through, careful to avoid knocking over the bookcase, then slide the window shut behind me. I daintily hop down from my desk and land neatly in the chair just as the pipes around me start thrumming, marking the 4am switch-on of the school boilers.

I can almost feel the thrum through my feet as I sit and think over the deal I'd made with Stan. He was going to come in very useful. The Homeless in Portland all stuck together, and he'd been one of them for years. He knew everyone, and they trusted him. And that, I could use. I'd gotten a new target (Tiny Robinson, a bank robber) and I needed to hand off the name to Stan and his homeless network. The police file hadn't given me anything specific enough to find him as easily as Floyd. But the Homeless weren't cops. They knew places the police would never think to look, and could go there without being noticed.

I didn't trust him. I didn't trust many people these days. But he'd come in-

There was a sudden knock at the door.

I stayed quiet for a beat, then called out. "Who is it?"

"Rachel."

I immediately hopped up and opened the door. I didn't think about why. "Hi."

She smiles. "Hi."

After a few seconds, we realise we're both staring. And still smiling.

I look away.

She doesn't.

"Can I come in?"

I nod, and scurry back inside, quickly tidying things away, as subtly as I can. When Rachel's grin gets bigger, I know I failed. I plant myself back on my desk chair and, after a minute of flailing my hands about, I clasp them together in my lap and try to say something. It turns into a strange, strangled sound - what the hell is wrong with me? - and I croak out "So, what brings you by, Rachel?"

Oh dog, she's still smiling, the bitch. "Oh, I just heard you coming in, thought I'd say hi, subtly inquire what you were doing up at this time of morning, maybe make a few remarks about Chloe's job, that kinda thing."

I blink. "Oh, um. Okay. Hi."

"Hi."

We smile at each other again, sitting in silence. "So..." Rachel looks at me expectantly.

"So..?" I respond, awkwardly, hoping desperately that she'll take the hint. There's a reason I don't talk to people about things, and that is because I suck at lying. I never could do it, even before... Before.

And there's no way I can tell Rachel that I was just capturing a wanted criminal.

Oh, and I made a deal with a homeless man to be my interface with the police in exchange for a crapload of money while we work together to capture more.

Can't forget that...

She gives me a cheeky grin. "Have fun with Chloe?"

I blink again. "What?"

She blinks back. "Um. With Chloe? Fun? Have?"

I frown and say, before I can think about it "What? I wasn't with Chloe."

She tilts her head, smiles, and leans forward towards me. "Oooh. Now I'm interested. What were you doing out so late, then?"

I sigh. "Rachel.., I..." have no idea what to say right now... Seriously, how do people do this? Lying is so stressful, and I've not actually said one yet! Dog, I miss fighting criminals.

"Me? Hmm. I'd've thought I'd notice if someone was doing me..." She winks, and I roll my eyes and try to ignore the fact that I'm blushing again, damnit.

She raises her hands. "Fair enough, Maxie. If you don't want to gossip with me, that's okay." She tilts her head, like she's remembering something. "Oh, and I have some free time this evening, if you'd like to get together and work on the project a little early?"

Other than handing off the name, I had nothing to do, so I nodded. "Okay."

She smiles. "Marvellous. I had a few ideas myself, but it'll be fantastic to get a real photographer's take on things."

My face flushes. "I'm not really a..."

She waves a hand. "Nonsense. You really need to stop doubting yourself, Maxie."

I shrug. I really wasn't a photographer. I hadn't used a camera in years, and my work for Jefferson was barely getting a passing grade. There's a dark little chuckle in my head as a familiar voice reminds me exactly why I hadn't used one.

I shiver, eliciting another pleased giggle from The Hunter, but Rachel doesn't seem to notice, still talking about... something.

*flashback begins*

Over her subsequent weeks in the treehouse, Max quickly mastered the crossbow. Her aim was true in the most strenuous situations, and Artemis was delighted to see her care for the animals she fought with. She'd even reclaimed her former mastery of the sword. And both done free from the cold burning anger of the Hunter.

Artemis' presence seemed to keep that... parasite, at bay. Max hadn't the faintest idea what it was about the older woman, but whenever Artemis' eyes met hers, the Hunter's presence fled to the depths of her mind. It baffled and delighted her, finally able to live without the constant awareness and hyper-vigilance the Hunter embodied.

As the trust between the two grew, Artemis slowly revealed more and more of herself. She made no speeches, never sat Max down for an in-depth, emotional conversation, merely dropped small hints, little threads peppered into conversation that Max began to weave together into the tapestry of Artemis' life.

She'd begun much as Max had, a castaway lost on the Island after a shipwreck. She'd tried surviving on her own, but seventeen year old socialite girls do not do well when suddenly thrown into jungle survival. There were probably at least a half dozen daytime television shows demonstrating that much. After almost a week of slowly starving to death, she'd been picked up by Prescott agents.

Confused and delirious, she was experimented upon, opened up and changed from the inside out, then discarded when she didn't measure up to the Doctor's 'requirements'. Artemis hadn't elaborated on the huge, rot-filled corpsepit outside the Prescott Mountain that she called 'The Abattoir', but the dark look in her eyes told Max enough that she didn't want to ask.

She'd crawled her way out of the Abattoir, and fled as far from the Mountain as she could. She travelled away from the central island, making for the outer isles of the chain and, after dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, she'd found the grove that her home was now built around. It was beautiful, peaceful and, most importantly, far away from the Prescotts.

Over time, as she extended her presence out from the grove, she came into contact, and conflict, with the local inhabitants. This was the one story Artemis had told in full; the story of Sheriff Levinia Stone.

Max had caught sound of people living on the shore of their little island and asked about them, but Artemis had put off telling her for days. It was a lighter evening when she finally began her tale; the air was warm and wet, as was typical of nights on the Island in the summer season. The two friends had taken a meal on one of Artemis' observation decks, enjoying the panoramic moonlit view of the region it provided.

Aside from two short interruptions from Artemis' various animal companions (Max assumed they were providing her some sort of information, but she couldn't tell what), neither of them had made a sound, concentrating on the meal and the view.

After they'd both finished, Artemis had begun to speak. "The... people in the town, they are not like us. Though they are still Children of Ratigan, he discarded them at earlier stages in his experiments, leaving their minds addled and their bodies twisted."

"Offshoots." No more needed to be said. Max knew their kind well.

Artemis nodded. "When I first came here, they were wild and disorganised, but mostly peaceful. Until Sheriff Stone and her people arrived." She takes a deep breath, and even Max can read the guilt, the sadness, in her expression. "They brought the Offshoots together, under their banner, and waged war against anyone who wouldn't join them."

Max blinks, digesting the information, but says nothing. It took no large leap in logic to guess that Artemis came under that category.

"I'd gained a few friends by then, all of whom joined together with me hoping to stop her. But she picked us off, one by one, until only I was left."

Max doesn't reach out, doesn't say anything. Artemis wasn't the sort to be reassured by physical contact. She just listens.

"They came for me once, in the treehouse, but I bruised their noses well enough that they thought better of it, retreated back to that town of theirs." Artemis waves a hand vaguely in its direction, bringing the other to massage her temple.

She takes a deep breath. "That was after they managed to do this," her hand gestures to her milky-white eyes. "to me. One of my companions was surrounded in the battle, and I charged in to help him without thinking." She shakes her head and her face wrinkles in self-disgust. "I missed the damn flamethrower. He was cooked inside his armour, and I came out like this."

Max let out a deep breath of her own as her mind added that cruelty to the long, long list of others she'd witnessed on Lian Yu. On Purgatory. It seemed the island had earned that name for everyone, not merely her. "What happened to the Sheriff?"

"The Prescott's were disappointed by their failure to kill me, but their success with the Offshoots merited them a fortress built in their town. They stay there, most days, content to fatten themselves up at the expense of those below them." She snorts. "Lazy scum. If it weren't for their defences, and the Prescott security force, I'd have taken them down years ago. I could've stopped all of this..."

Max watches quietly as her friend's form slowly sags down into her chair, head falling into her hands.

After a second, she stands, and walks away, leaving the older woman to her private misery.

*flashback ends*

"Max? Hey, Max? Are you getting distracted by my ethereal beauty again? Hello?" Rachel laughs a little, wafting her hand in front of my face. I blink vaguely at it, then shift back, trying to put more distance between us. 'cause she was waaay closer than I thought she was, kneeling down in front of me.

"I'm fine. What did you say?"

She grins. "Wow Max, I know Chloe said you were spacy, but this is the first time it's gotten that long without some serious herbal help. You sure you're okay?"

I nod absently, holding myself as still as possible to stop the shudders spreading through my body. "Fine. Just tired."

Rachel's grin flicks back on like a flashlight. "Say no more, Maxie. I'll get out of your hair, then."

She stands up, and swaggers over to the door. I barely have time to wave absently before she's vanished out of it.

Huh.

Okay.

So, that happened.

I shake my head and pull myself together. Things to do, Max. Things to do.


As photography, my last class of the day, finishes, I'm already planning out the rest of my afternoon. First I'd need to hand off Tiny's name, then I could go find Rachel. As I was about to reach the door, a calm, cool voice called out from behind me "Max? Do you have a minute?"

I sigh and turn around to see Mr Jefferson stood at his desk, quietly observing me. "I suppose, sir."

He smiles genialy as I walk over. "Good. I just wanted to talk about your entry for the contest."

"My entry, sir?" I ask, completely confused by his interest. Did I do something to make him curious?

He nods. "You're working with Rachel, correct?"

I return his nod. "Yessir."

He smiles, and I have to stop myself from shivering at his gleaming white teeth. Seeing teeth like that on the Island were a sure sign you were about to get your throat ripped out by something big and hungry. "Good, good."

Good?

"I just wanted to ask," he continues "how everything was going with that? I know you joined late, and I don't want that to put you too far behind. I'm happy to help, if you need it."

I shake my head. "Thank you sir, but I'm okay."

He smiles again. Jefferson really did smile a lot. "There's no shame in admitting if you need help, Max." He leans back a little and his face does this thing that I think was supposed to be wistful, but I recognised as his 'I'm going to tell an 'I'm such an old, but still cool, professional' story with a vague moral instead of just telling you what I want you to know' expression.

I really, really hated that expression. [AN1]

"I remember a time when I was in school, back in the olden days," He stops a beat, like he's waiting for me to laugh. I'm not sure why, but I give him an obedient smile regardless. "when I had to ask for help with a project. I felt so weak and ashamed, like I was handing over control of my work, of my art, to someone else. But sometimes we have to let others control us, until we learn how to take control for ourselves."

He pauses for a second, searching for his next words.

"You need to find that thing inside you, that yearns for control, and let it out. Use it to find your image, and take it." He smiles, again, emphasising his next point with a finger directed at me. "Always take the shot. Remember that, Max. Nothing worse than a missed opportunity."

"I'll try that." I definitely won't, I think, as the Hunter shakes at his cage. "But it's okay, sir, really. Rachel's been very helpful. We might even have a winning entry."

He laughs. "Well, I certainly can't fault your confidence. Okay, Max. Just remember what I said. I'm always here, if you need anything."

I nod.

I'm so confused right now.

"Thank you, Sir."

I left the classroom, and I could feel his eyes on me the entire time.


I walk up to Rachel's door and knock on it. I'm a little early, but I'm sure she won't mind. Will she? Oh dog, I don't know if she will. What if she's getting ready, or working on something else? What if she's running late herself and-

The door swings open and Rachel stands there with a grin. "Hey Maxie!" She leans in and kisses me on the cheek, then twirls and head back inside. "Come on in!"

I follow her in, taking my first look at her room.

It's exactly what I'd expect of Rachel. Soft textures and colours, a hint of scented candles covering up the weed smell. There's a dreamcatcher hanging over her bed, and textbooks and papers filed neatly in a set of shelves along the left wall that link into an old, expensive looking desk that seems to be built into the whole structure.

I barely have a moment to wonder how the hell they got it in here before my attention drifts back to Rachel again as she plonks herself down onto the bed and waves a hand at the rest of the room. "Make yourself at home. Mi casa e su casa."

I nod, and take a seat on her desk chair.

Wow.

This is the most comfortable thing I've sat in in my entire life.

It takes everything I have not to lean into the fabric and nuzzle it.

Rachel notices.

Obviously.

"You want me to leave you and my chair alone for a little while?"

I sit up, mumbling something about it being nothing or just okay and absolutely not looking at her face that I know is spread into a shit-eating grin, but she waves me off. "No, don't let me get in the way of you two getting to know each other. Mi casa e su casa, remember?"

I can hear the laughter in her voice. Damn it. "So, the theme of bonds, right?"

"Right. And I know what you're thinking, but putting me in handcuffs isn't the type of bonds Jefferson meant." I blush, and Rachel pauses thoughtfully. "Well, probably not. Might be able to swing it, I guess."

"No, I... could you..." I groan, and let my head fall into my hands, already knowing I'm redder than a tomato. Damnit Rachel.

She laughs, clapping her hands in delight as she leans back. "You're so cute when you blush, Maxie. Actually," she amends, thoughtfully "you're pretty cute all the time."

My blush gets worse.

And with that, and no more confusing freaking banter, we get to work. Immediately, it's clear Rachel knows her stuff. She corrects gently, guides along, and builds up ideas without being intrusive. Needless to say, I let her take the lead and over the next couple of hours we quickly get several ideas down to try the next day.

After we put the final touches on the plan, Rachel sits back in her seat and looks over at me with a grin. "Damn, Max. That was actually fun. If you'd been around, maybe Chloe would actually attend classes more than twice a week."

I blush.

I really have to try get control over that.

And of course, she chuckles at me. "You're cute when you're flustered too." She sighs dramatically, bringing up one hand and resting the back of it against her forehead like a 50s movie ingenue. "How is a girl supposed to deal with so much cute around her all the time?"

My shoulders sag and I let my eyes drift down to my feet. "Sorry, I mean, I can totally stop hanging around as much if you-" I don't know what this thing I'm feeling right now is, but I definitely don't like it.

She puts a hand down and lifts my head back up to hers, her face suddenly serious. "Hey, Maxie, calm down. I was kidding."

I blink in surprise, feeling my cheeks get red as I blush again. "Oh, I-uh... oh."

She smirks. "Maybe I should get a little sign made. I can hold it up so you know when I'm joking." Her smirk turns fond, and she just... looks at me.

I chuckle nervously, trying to calm myself down and get my face to go back to a normal freaking colour. After a second, it trails off into quiet, and we sit in silence looking at each other.

I don't notice that I'm smiling just as much as she is.

"So, are you looking forward to the party tomorrow?"

I smile, nodding. "Sure am! Gonna get home with the downies." (AN2)

"It's, uh, down with the homies, Max. And you really don't have to come, if you don't want to, y'know."

"I just said-"

"You lied."

The two words feel like bullets to the chest, and my heart almost stops.

It starts again as she flashes me a dazzling grin.

What the hell is wrong with me?

"You're kinda bad at it." She snorts. "You really don't have to come though, if you don't want. We can skip, and go to the junkyard instead, if you want?"

"No, I'm-I'm okay. I want to do this."

She rolls her eyes. "Really, Max, it's okay. After what you've been through, nobody would blame you for wanting to be on your own for a while."

I scoff. "You don't know what I've been through."

She shrugs. "Unless you tell me."

My entire body freezes, and I can feel the Hunter grin. "I-I don't..."

Rachel gives me a sad, small smile. "I know. And that's okay." She hesitates for a second, then offers softly "I know whatever happened isn't the kinda thing you want to talk about to just anyone. But if you ever decide you want to, I promise to just listen, okay?"

I meet her eyes with a small smile of my own. "I'm sorry."

She shrugs. "I told you. It's okay. And I know I'm saying okay a lot, but it is. Okay, that is. Yeah. Oookay."

She suddenly stands. "You want some water? I need some water." She skitters off to a small minifridge, reaching down to pull out a couple of bottles of water. My hearing was good enough to catch her muttered "Damnit. Keep your shit together, Rachel."

I frown in confusion. What does that mean?

She skitters back and flops down into her chair again, no trace of anything other than her usual friendly snark on her face. Not that I'd really notice if there was, but I guess I'm getting better at Rachel.

We sit in silence until it becomes so uncomfortable that I have to move, have to do... something to get away from it. So, I stand up, ignoring Rachel's confused glance, and walk over to one of her bookshelves.

Rachel's taste was anything but discriminating, sci-fi and fantasy mixed in with romance, chick-lit, westerns, volumes of Dostoyevsky packed in next to an entire set of something called Twilight, which was shoved up against leatherbound copies of Lord of the Rings, Lord of the Flies, and Lord of the Dance, which lead on to textbooks about Jazz, Ancient Architecture, Learning of Latin and Tokalau, and more I didn't have the energy to read. "You like books."

Rachel slinks over to me, running her hand along the spines. "I love them. The smells, the words, the covers, all of it. You?"

I absentmindedly match her motion, moving my hand along the shelf in front of me. "Hmm?"

"Do you like books? "

"Each man delights in the work that suits him best."

She grins. "Fan of the classics, huh? I love Homer."

I smile as the memories return, stealing into the great library and finding whatever I could from its still-burning remains. "The Oddysey is one of my favourites. It's about someone trying to make their way home, after a long time away." I smirk. "Something I can relate to, obviously."

"Obviously." Rachel echoes. She tilts her head, looking over at me. "Do you have a favourite line?"

"Even so I will endure, for already I have suffered much, and much have I toiled in perils of waves and war." I offer, eyeing Rachel in hopes of somehow gauging her reaction. I want to give her something, offer just a tiny tidbit of trust, but I absolutely cannot have her finding out what really happened.

She smiles, sweet and simple. "That's a good line." The look in her eye makes me think she understands what I'm trying to say. "but my favourite has always been; even his griefs are a joy long after to one that remembers all that he wrought and endured."

I blink in quiet shock as I understand what she's trying to say, her face changes to a broad grin and I realise my face has changed to a grin too.

We sit in smiling quiet for a few seconds before Rachel changes the subject again, chattering about something to do with the party tomorrow, like nothing happened.

But I know it did.

After a while, I excuse myself with something lame, but Rachel smiles and nods understandingly as she says goodbye.


AN1 - This just a Max thing, not a me thing. I actually like it when Teachers get all storyteller on their students. It provides a soul to information that would be otherwise bland and uninteresting.

AN2 - Please don't anyone actually say this. It's so gross. Also, quoted from Dylan Moran. He's pretty cool.