October 16, 2013
Caulfield Residence
Seattle, Washington

"Unbelievable." Chloe growls, glaring at the television. "This is just un-fucking-believable."

"Language, Chloe." There's not much heat behind Mom's words. Her eyes are glued to the TV as the story of Arcadia Bay's destruction dominates every news channel. As messed up as it is, people are captivated by the idea of an entire town being snuffed out in a single freak storm.

Mom and Dad have been getting a lot of phone calls, but they always take them in another room. Every now and then I'll hear them reassuring someone that I'm fine and feeding them the story we'd come up with. Neither of us wanted to get turned into the face of the tragedy in the news, so we'd all agreed to tell people that Chloe and I just hadn't been there.

As far as anyone is concerned, I hadn't adjusted properly to life at Blackwell and had decided to come home in the first week of October. That the only high point of my time in Arcadia Bay had been reconnecting with my old friend, who'd been kind enough to drive me home to Seattle, then decided to stay for a few days so I could show her the sights.

Just dumb luck and good timing. Nothing to see here.

Dad took us to the mall yesterday so I could get a new phone. Luckily, the repair guy at the store was able to recover almost everything from the remains of my old one. Dad bought one for Chloe, too, and I think the only reason she accepted it was because she needed a phone number to put on all the job applications she picked up while we were there. Even though they've both gone out of their way to assure her that she's welcome to stay for as long as she wants, I think she's scared that my parents will suddenly decide she's too much of a hassle to look after.

I don't think she'd expected much when she turned it on. Probably not for dozens of messages to be waiting for her, and certainly not for all of them to be from the same person.

"The universe must have a real screwed up sense of humor." Chloe begins pacing the room angrily. "I mean, of all people! Of all fucking people!"

The Coast Guard sent search & rescue teams into the remains of the town almost immediately (we probably just missed them) but even after days of look, they've only found five survivors. Five people, out of nearly fifteen-hundred residents, that the media just would not stop talking about.

Glen Caspersen, (former) officer if the Arcadia Bay Police Department, (former) husband, (former) father, and friend to the (now scattered across half the county) community.

Officer Elliot Ross, another (former) Arcadia Bay Police officer. No wife, no kids, no friends, no job, no house, no hometown.

Victoria Chase, self-proclaimed Queen of Blackwell Academy, rich girl, aspiring socialite, victim, orphan.

Mark Jefferson, world-famous photographer, Blackwell Academy teacher, my (former) idol, vicious liar, abuser, kidnapper, pervert, murderer, and all-around disgrace to humanity.

And then there's the person who has Chloe spitting fire. Head of Blackwell Academy security, military veteran, Chloe's stepfather, and (to hear her tell it) the absolute bane of her existence; David Madsen. The man who's practically flooded her voicemail inbox.

"Are you going to respond?" I ask, stopping her pacing with a gentle hand on her arm.

"Why? He's probably happy I'm gone."

"Come on, Chloe..."

She sighs. "I'm just having trouble believing he actually cares about me."

"Of course David cares about you, Chloe," I insist. Glancing in my parents' direction. I lower my voice. "Remember what I told you about in the other timeline?"

"Yeah, I remember. Still tough to swallow."

"At least let him know you're alive."

She pulls out her new phone, eyeing it dubiously. "Do I have to?"

"I really think you should."

"Oh, fine," she grumbles, leaning in to softly bump her shoulder against mine. "Just cut it out with the puppy-dog eyes."

Chloe: im alive

Chloe: u can stop spamming my phone now

step-douche: Where are you?

step-douche: Answer the phone!

step-douche: I'm serious! Answer the phone right now!

step-douche: Chloe you need to answer!

Chloe: im not gonna pick up

Chloe: take a hint ffs

step-douche: Where are you?

step-douche: Are you safe?

step-douche: When did you leave town?

step-douche: Who are you with right now?

Chloe: oh my fucking god chill out

Chloe: seattle / yes / before u obvs / the person who convinced me to mssg ur uptight ass

step-douche: Who is that?

Chloe: none of ur business

step-douche: Please, Chloe. I just want to know you're okay.

Chloe: im fine

Chloe: im super

Chloe: never been better

Chloe: satisfied?

Chloe: good talk

October 19, 2013
Caulfield Residence
Seattle, Washington

"I have no fucking idea how I got talked into this," Chloe tells me for possibly the tenth time in the last hour. "No fucking idea at all."

"It's because deep down you're a kind and considerate person," I lean closer, squinting. "Like, way deep down."

"Har har."

After their slightly combative text message exchange, she'd thought she was done with David. Apparently he disagreed. He kept calling, and not long after she finally blocked his number she got a call from the Seattle Police Department asking if she was in danger. I'm almost certain that if my parents hadn't been in the room, that poor officer would've gotten an earful of Hurricane Chloe.

Still, it was enough to convince her that David wasn't going away. Dad ended up playing middleman, calling David on Chloe's behalf to explain that his approach probably wasn't having the effect he was hoping for. Eventually they struck a compromise; if Chloe was alright with it, David could come by the house and see for himself that she was fine. Actually getting her to agree was a challenge, but I finally convinced her to give him a chance.

It's weird that I wish Chloe could've seen how broken up David had been in the Dark Room, after learning that she'd been killed by Jefferson. She probably wouldn't appreciate the context, but at least she might understand where he's coming from a little better.

"Where the hell is he, anyway? If he's going to come wreck my day, he could at least show up on ti-" She's interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. "Well, fuck. That'll teach me to open my damn mouth."

"Well?" I give her shoulder a little nudge. "You going to go answer the door?"

"Really? Do I have to?"

"Yes."

"Man, being considerate is such bullshit," she grumbles, rising from the couch like she's got a hundred extra pounds on her shoulders and dragging her feet all the way to the door. Opening it with a long-suffering sigh, she doesn't even have a chance to say hello before getting pulled into a relieved hug.

"Chloe, thank god!"

"Gah! Red light! No hugging!"

David immediately releases her, taking an awkward step backward. "Oh...er..."

Scowling, Chloe lifts a finger. "That's strike one. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Fine, come in."

She leads him into the living room where the rest of us are waiting, crossing the room to drop down next to me on the couch. She doesn't take my hand, but I do feel her lightly brush her knuckles against mine. I return the subtle gesture and she gives me a little smile.

For his part, David actually looks pretty surprised to see me. Is it possible that he didn't make the connection? Or did he just assume I'd died in the storm with everyone else?

Standing, Dad steps forward and smiles. "Ryan Caulfield. This is my wife, Vanessa. And I guess you've met Max."

"I have," David replies, shaking Dad's hand. "I'm actually a little embarrassed. I should've guessed that Chloe had left town with your daughter."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Chloe snaps, surprising everyone.

He hesitates, shrugging slightly. "I just meant that you two are obviously close friends."

"Whatever," she mutters, looking away. "Strike two."

Well, this is off to a great start.

Clearing his throat, Dad gestures to an empty chair. "Please have a seat. Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thank you." David drops into the chair and turns to Chloe. "I'm so glad you're alright. After your mother..." He stumbles. "I looked for you everywhere. When I couldn't find your truck, I hoped...well...it doesn't matter. What matters is that you're safe." Chloe rolls her eyes a little and looks away, but she doesn't say anything rude. Considering their relationship it's probably the best he could've hoped for, , but he still looks a little disappointed.

Dad clears his throat again. He's never been very good with awkward silences. "We were so sorry when we heard about Joyce. She was a wonderful woman and a good friend."

"Thank you." He swallows, taking a moment to compose himself. "And thank so much for taking responsibility for Chloe."

"Like I'm a fucking pet..." Chloe sighs, too quietly for anyone else to hear.

"Of course," Dad insists. "She's always welcome here."

"I just know that Joyce would have appreciated it. We're very lucky to have friends like you."

"Joyce was our friend, Mr. Madsen," Mom comments, leaning forward. "But we've only just met you. And if I'm being honest, what we've seen so far hasn't painted you in a very good light."

"Excuse me?"

"Vanessa..." Dad murmurs; she looks over at him and sighs.

"I'm sorry. That came out poorly," she admits. "What I mean to say is that the only firsthand impression we have of you is a man who aggressively refused to take no for an answer and kept calling until his number had to be blocked."

"I was just worried about her."

"I understand that." Her expression softens a little. "I'm not saying we've made up our minds about you. You're just not off to a great start."

"Besides," Chloe adds. "I told you I was fine."

"In a text message, Chloe. I wanted to actually hear your voice."

"Seriously?" She rolls her eyes again. "Did you think I was being held hostage or something?"

"No. I mean, not exactly, but..." He gives her a slightly annoyed look. "After what I saw down in that bunker, can you blame me for being concerned?"

"It'd sure be a first."

Another few seconds of silence go by before Dad breaks. "So, David, I hope the media attention hasn't been too difficult."

"It's been alright." Like the rest of us, David seems relieved to shift to a less confrontational topic. "Truth be told, I haven't been getting much of it."

"Really?"

"A few reporters spoke to me, but most of them seemed more interested in what I could tell them about Mark Jefferson." David snorts. "That bunker was packed to the walls with evidence of what he'd been doing. Probably enough to nail that sicko on about a dozen charges."

"Only three, actually," Mom says quietly, bringing the rest of the conversation to a crashing halt.

"I'm sorry?" David blinks. "How do you..."

"I used to work at the Tillamook County DA's office. I made some calls." She glances at Chloe and me. "They'll be charging him with kidnapping, assault, and exploitation of a minor. They might pursue possession and abuse of a controlled substance, too."

I feel Chloe tense up beside me and already know what she's going to say. "That's it? What about Rachel? They should be going after that sick fuck for murder."

"They can't," Mom says sadly. The look on her face makes me think of all the times Dad said how grateful he is that she works for a private practice now. "There's no evidence that he was directly involved in her death, and they have to go with what they can prove."

"But...but the DA is Rachel's dad. Why wouldn't he..." Chloe looks like she just had the rug pulled out from under her feet, and I don't blame her; we'd both been sure that Rachel would finally get some justice. Taking her hand, I give it a gentle squeeze.

"James Amber has already recused himself. He won't be involved in the case."

"He's fucking what?"

I silently look at Dad, then at David. They both look about as uncomfortable as I feel. I doubt they expected the conversation to go in this direction either, and I have the impression that the three of us have just been downgraded to spectators.

"He had to, Chloe. It's a high-profile case, and he couldn't risk being accused of a conflict of interest."

"Bullshit." Chloe shakes her head. "That's such bullshit."

"No, that's what can get a case thrown out, and Mark Jefferson has enough money to hire an attorney who could make that happen in their sleep. I'm sorry, sweetheart, but Mr. Amber is doing the smart thing."

"But he killed her!"

"No, he didn't." Mom and Chloe both turn to glare at David. "He said that Nathan Prescott was responsible for that, and there were pictures that backed that up."

"I fucking kno-" I squeeze Chloe's hand as hard as I can, cutting her off. Despite giving David the information that led him to Jefferson, we never actually mentioned going down to the Dark Room ourselves. If Chloe admits that she's actually seen the last photos of Rachel, it'll open us up to a lot of questions we don't want to answer.

"What was that?"

She takes a breath and gives me a grateful glance. "I said I know, David. I watch the news, too. I just can't believe people can't tell he's full of shit."

"Maybe he is. But with Nathan Prescott presumed dead, there's no way to prove otherwise. And like Vanessa said, it's about what they can prove."

She turns to Mom, who doesn't look very happy about being roped into David's argument but still nods reluctantly. "I wish I could say he's wrong, but even someone like Jefferson is considered innocent until proven guilty."

"He is not innocent!"

"No, Chloe. He isn't. But that's how the system works."

"The system fucking sucks."

"Yeah," Mom agrees. "Sometimes."

"I'd hoped this would go a little smoother," David admits.

"It's fine," Mom says, not very believably. "Let's just move on."

"No, it's not fine. Chloe's always been prone to overreacting, but that doesn't excuse her being rude to you in your own house. Especially considering the way you were here when she needed you." He gives Chloe a stern look. "Don't worry, though; you won't have to trouble yourselves for much longer. As soon as I get a job I'll be able to get somewhere for us to live."

I'm not sure if it's me or Chloe who gasps, but her hand tightens around mine as her eyes jump nervously between David and my parents. "But...but I...I don't..."

"Chloe is welcome in our home for as long as she wants to stay." Dad and I exchange a nervous glance. We both recognize Mom's 'courtroom' voice. David had better start stepping lightly.

"That's generous, but I don't believe it's appropriate for someone else to have to take responsibility for my stepdau-"

"I disagree," she interrupts, eyeing him coolly.

He scowls back, clearly not happy being argued with. "As I understand it, it's been several years since you knew Chloe. Her and trouble tend to go hand in hand these days. She's a good kid, but she needs discipline. That's my job; not yours."

Mom looks down for a second, tightens her jaw, then looks back up. "I'm going to be frank, Mr. Madsen. I don't think you have the slightest idea what Chloe needs right now, I don't think you're interested in learning, and I'm more than a little concerned that your idea of discipline will cause her significantly more harm than good."

"With all due respect, I think it's what her mother would have wanted."

"Like you'd know." Chloe snorts.

"Chloe, don't..." I begin, but she doesn't give me a chance.

"No, I'm serious," she continues, rising to her feet. "What the fuck does he think he knows about what Mom would've wanted?!"

"You better watch your tone, Chloe!" David growls, standing as well.

"Or what?"

"Okay, that's enough," Dad says, unsuccessfully trying to get between them. "How about we all just take a breath."

"No, I've had it with her constant attitude. It's always the same thing, day in and day out." David jabs a finger in Chloe's direction. "I'm the parent, you're the child, and it's high time you showed me some damned respect."

"I only had one parent, fuckface!" She roars back, shoving past Dad to get right in David's face. "And she died alone while you were hiding in a fucking hole!"

The room goes dead silent.

"Why you...you insubordinate little..." David is sputtering, beyond furious, his face bright red. His hand comes up like he's going to hit her, then it's flying forward with no time for Chloe to get out of the way. I'm almost ready to risk rewinding to protect her when his arm stops in mid-swing, my father's hand clamped around his wrist.

"Don't you dare!" he snarls, squeezing hard enough to make David cry out. "You lift your hand to her again and I will break it the fuck off!"

I almost feel sorry for David. My dad has been working in rail yards since before I was born, and he's got a grip like a steel vice. When I was little he used to pick me up by the back of my overalls and run around the back yard, holding me out so I could pretend I was flying.

"I..." David blinks dumbly, glancing between Dad and Chloe like he doesn't know what just happened. "I wasn't...I wouldn't have..."

"Shut it. You're leaving."

"But Chloe..."

"Isn't your concern," Mom cuts him off, moving to block Chloe from his sight. "Now I suggest you get out before my husband removes you."

"O-of course." David nods shakily, rubbing his wrist when Dad lets him go. "I just..."

"Are you deaf?" Dad snaps, shoving him toward the door. "She said get out."

It almost looks like David is going to say more, but something in Dad's eyes seems to convince him otherwise. He's outside a few seconds later and the front door slams behind him. I glance down at my phone, shocked that things could go so bad, so quickly. He'd been here for less than fifteen minutes.

Stepping up beside Chloe and taking her hand, I try to get her to look at me. "Hey, it's alright. He's gone now."

"I'm sorry," she whispers, unable to look me in the eye. "I shouldn't have...I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for. You didn't do anything."

"I provoked him." Her voice wavers. "I'm always doing shit like that."

"Max is right, Chloe," Mom insists. "David is an adult. His actions are his responsibility. Not yours."

"Adult, my ass." Dad mutters, still scowling at the closed door. "I can't believe that jackass is the only family you have."

"I..." Chloe flinches a little. "I mean, I guess I've got my Aunt Dorothy, but she has ALS and mom said it'd gotten pretty bad. And we kinda fell out of touch with my Uncle Aaron after dad died. He was living in Texas, but that was a few years ago. I'm sorry."

He turns around, a little confused. "Sorry that you've got other family?"

She shakes her head, embarrassed. "That they can't take me. I know you probably want my freeloading ass outta here by now."

"What?" Dad blinks, rushing to reassure her. "No, that's not what I meant!"

"It's cool. I get it. You guys have been so amazing and I'm hella grateful, but..." She looks down. "David was right. I just cause trouble. You'd probably be better off."

My parents share one of those looks - the kind that seem to carry an entire conversation in the span of a heartbeat – and then Mom steps forward. "Chloe? Look at me, honey."

Chloe cautiously lifts her eyes back up, looking like she's bracing herself for the worst.

"I want you to listen closely, okay? Are you listening?"

She nods slowly. "...yeah."

"You're home now," Mom says seriously, reaching out to gently place a hand on Chloe's arm. "You're not a guest, or crashing here, or staying at our house or anything like that. You're home."

Chloe's eyes go wider than I've ever seen them (except for maybe the first time I kissed her) and her bottom lip starts to quiver. "Y-you're gonna let me live here?"

"That's right, sweetheart."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Like, with you guys? A-and Max?" I'd laugh if her voice weren't so full of doubt, like she can't quite accept the idea that someone would let her live with them if they didn't have to.

"Oh, no. Not Max." Mom winks at me. "She'll have to go live in the backyard."

"I can live with that." I give Chloe's hand another squeeze. "Small price to pay for my very own Chloe."

"That's...wow," she responds, then she looks at me and I see the familiar spark return to her eyes. "Does that mean I can have her room?"