"Max?"

Max's gaze shifted warily from the window back to her partner of a little more than three years, Warren Graham. He wore an endearing look of concern on his face, and Max almost felt guilty for making him worry about her all this time, yet, she knew it was part of his nature.

"Sorry, Warren," she faked a smile. "I was just distracted by the scenery."

"Hm," Warren huffed. "The scenery is… very barren," he commented good-naturedly.

Max felt the need to defend it. She absentmindedly stroked Chloe's bullet necklace around her throat. She turned her head back out to the window to scan the outside again. "It's hard to explain. There's a sense of simplicity to it. Everything is here because it's meant to be here."

And there's no massive storm and no town to destroy everything.

"That makes sense I guess. Doesn't change the fact that you totally weren't listening."

Max lips curled upwards again, this time her grin just a bit more genuine. "Okay, I wasn't. Too distracted by my own thoughts, I guess."

"I could tell. Would you care to elaborate?"

"I-" Max stuttered. She had told Warren everything in time. It took a while to get used to spending time with him without thinking of him and Joyce being trapped inside the Two Whales as it imploded. It took close to a year for Max to become accustomed to the hauntings of her adventures with Chloe through the lost timeline.

At times, she wasn't sure if she still made the correct choice. But when she's alone with Warren, or Facetiming Kate, or even spending time with Joyce, she knows she made the right one.

"I still miss... Chloe," she finished.

Warren nodded, his eyes firmly on the road. He always felt guilty about the fact that Max had chosen the town, him, over her best friend. A guilt that had always been a strain on their relationship.

Max hated bringing Chloe up. Not because Warren didn't understand. He did. She explained to him everything that happened during the week in the old timeline… with certain exceptions.

Warren's problem was that he understood too much at times. His protective qualities and his bottomless well of sympathy and understanding were some of his strongest traits. Traits that she admired him for.

There were times when she needed him. Nightmares of Mark Jefferson, of Chloe deaths that she couldn't prevent, nightmares of a past that no longer existed that haunted her. Warren's endless reserves could quiet the storm always bubbling inside her. Ironic it is, that by preventing one storm caused another storm of guilt to live inside her, nearly five years after the tragedy.

The more Max needed Warren, the larger the tension between them grew. Warren was able to ignore it, perhaps he may not have even noticed it, but she did. The days in which they communicated grew longer. The text's less frequent. The nights spent snuggled under a blanket, sharing popcorn while semi-watching the latest movie came and gone.

She distanced herself because she had to. She wanted to prove to herself that her feelings for him weren't because he was trying to be her white knight. Any feelings for him were natural. Based on desire and intimacy. Based on mutual growth and respect, not on emotional stability or healing.

Essentially, she no longer wanted to feel like she was using him.

Most people called it a "break". But it wasn't, not really. Max still thought about him all the time. She still wanted to be with him. She knew she was not being fair. She knew that she had a chance of losing him.

Max also knew she probably didn't deserve him.

She wished Chloe were here now. Chloe would tell her that she was overthinking, per usual, and to tell him how much she cared about him and all the "emotional crap", and she would feel better.

But she wasn't here. She wasn't here because Max chose it to be this way.

If she had chosen differently; if she had taken the path less traveled, then what would have come of it? Chloe and herself would hitch a ride and desert the town? But what about everyone else? Who said that Max could play god and sacrifice everyone else? All the friends she made along the way?

She had reflected for so long what she lost, but as Warren always reminds her, she's the reason he's still here today. She's the reason why everyone else is still alive.

But inevitably, it was all bullshit. Chloe was the hero, not her.

A hand slipped into her own, as her gaze moved from the window, to the red dunes of dirt outside the windshield. Warren's hand in hers returned her back to the present, away from the ghosts of her mind.

Warren didn't say anything because there was nothing left to say. After four years, he had dried up every word in the English lexicon. He had used up every possible way to say, "I'm sorry."

A month ago, Max had the idea to take this trip. A cross country trip, just like they have in the movies, to rekindle. They had both chosen seperate colleges. Warren went to Washington for chemistry; Max to Academy of Art Institution for, obviously, photography. Warren was working on his doctorate, and his professor had let him take his last final early.

Max had been indecisive before starting college. She thought she would take a gap year, but ultimately decided on diving headfirst into college. She hoped it would distract her from Chloe.

It did, somewhat. She made some friends at the Art Institute, but none came close to the bonds made at Blackwell.

Professor Hayward had given them their final exam in March. She was tasked with finding something extraordinary in the world. Ironic that it was almost the antithesis of the Everyday Hero assignment tasked to her during that week.

Max was starting to learn that the more things change, the more they stay the same, no matter how much time passes.

"So where are we headed next?" asked Max, just to break the tense silence.

"I was thinking we should visit Las Vegas! There's always something magical going on there."

"If by 'magical' you mean gambling and puking in the streets," she smiled joshingly. "Then of course."

"You know it," he chuckled. "You know, Vegas was where yours truly was conceived."

Max side-eyed him playfully. She swiftly imagined his parents, and wrinkled her nose in half mocking disgust. "Warren," she replied while squeezing his hand, "you need to learn the phrase, 'too much information'."

He waved his left hand, as if shooing her suggestion away. "I know what it means." His boyish grin, even though he was now 20, burned bright. "You should feel privileged I shared this information. Not many know this."

"That's the thing though," she turned slightly in her seat to face him. "I didn't want to know that."

He grinned at her. He took his eyes off the road and winked at her, his brown eyes almost glistening in the sunlight.

Ordinarily, she would have told him to keep his eyes on the road, but she let him do what he wanted. Partly because she doubted she'd run into anyone for miles, partly because she trusted him.

Sure enough, Warren turned back to face the road. She took her opposite hand to turn up the radio, hoping it would distract him from further conversation. She wasn't in a jovial mood, and she'd rather not pretend she was.

Max glanced over at him one more time. It almost amazed her how close they'd gotten, and how handsome he'd become (not that he wasn't cute before).

Warren had grown an inch or two taller, his brown hair cut shorter. His face had evened out, his chubby cheeks giving into slightly more defined cheekbones. It wasn't a drastic change, she could still see the awkward sixteen year old who had a hopeless crush on her (that she was too oblivious to see), but it was growth.

I haven't changed much. Not at all, she thought to herself as she turned her head back around to her window, with a sigh.

Max stared out the window, and her reflection stared back. She experimented growing her hair out for a time, but always ended up chopping it back off. Warren always liked it, no matter what, but it felt plain. Maybe she'll dye it.

Her face was still dotted with freckles, her nose still small. Her skin still pale. Aside from the ever growing bags under eyes, physically not much had changed.

Yet Warren's feelings had never abided. He always told her she was beautiful. Someday, she might start to believe him.

As she stared, she noticed a car pulled over on the road. She thought about alerting Warren, but it had probably been long since abandoned.

She let go of his hand. It was starting to get clammy. The A.C. was cranked to the max, considering they were in a desert. Max bent down to her bag between her feet.

"What the-?"

Max looked up, typical curiosity clouding her thoughts. "What do you mean?"

"Looks like someone's walking..?"

Max shot up in her seat. Warren slowed down, both of them noticing it was indeed a person walking through the desert.

"Pull over," said Max.


The person was a boy. He was just a few inches taller than her, with a Hispanic appearance, a grey tank top, and dark jeans. His hair was cut short to the base of his skull, and he wore a bandage over his eye.

He had been out here for a while, that was for certain. He was caked in sweat, and practically panting in the heat.

Still, he hesitated. She could see the distrust in his brown eyes. She could tell he had seen a lot, too much even. He had matured far more than he had ever should.

Yet there was steel in his eyes. Some sort of determination.

He pursed his lips before nodding once. "Okay."

There was awkward fumbling as Warren forgot to mention that the door behind Max was stuck. Several seconds later, he climbed in behind Warren with a heavy sigh.

"So," Warren pondered hesitantly. He shifted the beat up, blue hatchback into drive and continued on the road. "Where are you headed?"

Max lifted her eyes to the rearview mirror, her curiosity peaking. He looked even more wary, but he relaxed slightly with the question. He looked familiar somehow, like she had seen him before. Though, she was certain she did not know anyone with a hurt/missing eye.

"Haven Point," he answered finally.

"Sure! Uh," Warren shifted in his seat. "Where exactly is that?" he muttered.

Max smiled. "I'll look it up."

She glanced at the rearview mirror one more time as she dug out her phone. The boy seemed to relax once more, perhaps noticing that they definitely weren't a threat. Just awkward.

While Warren asked politely if he could feel the A.C., Max looked up Haven Point on Moogle. All that came up was the cute little dinosaur telling her she had no connection.

"Sorry," she frowned. "Looks like I don't have service."

"It's fine," the boy answered. He swung his backpack around to his lap. Max could see a cute little guitar pick dangling from a zipper. She made a mental note about that.

"I have a map."

He was true to his word. He dug out a good old fashioned map. Max could see as he folded it out that he had marked places he's been.

Wowser, it looks like he's also been travelling everywhere as well. I wonder what's so special about Haven Point. I know neither Warren or I have ever heard of it.

In her reverie, she didn't even notice what the boy said. She glanced at Warren for context, and saw him frowning.

"About 30 miles ahead? That's cool. We have to stop for gas though. Do you mind?"

"No, I don't mind."

Warren nodded, and with that the conversation ended. Max asked to borrow the map, which the boy obliged. She showed Warren the nearest gas station, in which he nodded.

Then it dawned on her. She adjusted in her seat to look at him. "Sorry, I just realized, we never even asked for your name."

"Oops!" Warren exclaimed with a laugh. "I'm sorry, I totally forgot. I'm Warren."

"And I'm Max."

He paused for a brief moment. "I'm Sean. Thank you for the ride."

She waited for him to say more, but he didn't. Warren said something back, but Max returned to her seat, her eyes back on the road.

Silence filled the car, but it was a far more comfortable silence. The trio rode on, each person's thoughts in various places.

Max glanced at Sean again. She felt there was something familiar about him, but she wasn't sure what it was. Her curiosity was burning, and she was wrestling with the idea of asking him some questions, when she felt Warren's hand on her knee.

It wasn't an abnormal occurrence. His hands have been in far more intimate places than her knee. What was unusual was his fidgeting.

The foot that was not steady on the gas, was tapping in a slow, steady rhythm on the floor. His fingers on her knee repeating the jive.

It hit her then. He's nervous. I wonder why.


The car ride continued for the next 14 miles without much of a hitch. The silence was never broken, but Max was okay with that. She still had questions, such as what Sean had done all that traveling for. And that's not even close to how many questions about his eye.

The only reason she held her tongue was because of Warren. It was worrying her how anxious he was seeming. It was almost like he was threatened by Sean's presence, or at least weirded out.

She didn't understand it. He didn't seem that intimidating. Just tired and weary, sort of like her.

Did Warren see something she didn't?

She would have to find some time to ask. They pulled into a gas station. A tiny station in the middle of a desert. She noticed earlier a sign that read "Footnote, Nevada". It certainly seemed as big as a footnote.

She had to pee. She voiced it to the car. Warren nodded, saying he needed something to drink. Sean thought about it, and said he would wait in the car.

Max nodded at him. She left in a hurry, with Warren not far behind. She did her business, and found Warren waiting patiently outside.

"We need to talk."