June 9, 2014
Seattle Cancer Care Alliance - UW Medical Center
Seattle, Washington

It's early summer when Chloe starts chemotherapy and even though the hospital is only a twenty-minute drive from home, she's so antsy to get going that we end up arriving an hour early for her first appointment.

The waiting room is pretty generic. Uncomfortable chairs, outdated magazines, and the sound of low volume easy listening music in the background. Chloe had her infusion port implanted a week ago, and every now and then she'll absentmindedly scratch at the bandage on her upper arm. It's obvious that she's trying not to stare at the other patients, not that I could blame her. A lot of them look like they're in rough shape, and a couple honestly look pretty terrible. Almost everyone looks exhausted, and when I scan the room I can see more than a few beanies and scarves covering bald heads.

That last one makes me particularly sad. I don't want Chloe to lose her hair. I like Chloe's hair.

I've been killing time by flipping through a University of Washington course guide. The deadline for selecting first-semester courses is getting closer every day, and Chloe refuses to let her own health interfere the tiniest bit with my future. By which I mean she's been badgering me relentlessly about it. Case in point, she seems to have noticed I'm not giving the course guide my full attention anymore. Leaning to the side, she gently bumps our shoulders together.

"Anything good in there?" she asks, probably hoping she doesn't sound anxious. "Maybe something like 'Pretentious Books 101' or 'Intro To Acoustic Covers You've Probably Never Heard Of'?"

"There's actually a wait list for that one." I look back down to hide my smile. "But I was actually thinking about 'Punk Music 1100: Culturally Significant Shouting."

"Sounds dope. You probably don't meet the requirements, though." She gives me an exaggerated once-over and I definitely still feel a little flutter in my stomach when she does. "No tats. Hipster-chic clothes. Not even any piercings."

"My ears are pierced."

"No sexy piercings," she amends, wiggling her eyebrows. "Though if you wanted to change that, I certainly wouldn't say no to going over some possibilities. Or all the possibilities."

She's expecting me to blush, I can tell. Instead I meet her innuendo-laced tone with a wink and a half-smile. "How about we take a nice, close look later?"

Yeah, that's right! Who's the one blushing now?

...okay, fine. It's still me. but I'm giving myself points for trying.

"Chloe Price?" We both look up to see a man in dark green scrubs scanning the room.

She raises her hand. I think she feels a little silly. "Uh...here?"

Smiling, he waves us up to the doors that separate the waiting area from the infusion clinic. "Hey there. Do you prefer Ms. Price or just Chloe?"

"Chloe's fine."

"Gotcha. Well, Chloe, my name's Stu and I'm going to be administering your infusion today. How're you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess," she shrugs, only the slightest nervous waver in her voice. "I mean, I've got cancer. But other than that, I can't complain."

"Good attitude," Stu chuckles, gesturing for us to follow him to a row of curtained off spaces nearby. "First time, right?"

"Am I that obvious?"

"A little, but don't worry. It'll probably be a lot easier than you're expecting." Turning to me, he asks, "I guess you're here to keep Chloe company today?"

For Chloe's sake, I refuse to sound the slightest bit anxious. So, with a laugh, I say, "Someone has to. She'd just get into trouble if I left her alone."

"Fair enough," he laughs, pushing a small curtain aside to reveal a comfortable looking chair and a few pieces of machinery. "So, we're going to have to run a few tests before we can start your infusion. Just basic stuff like taking a blood sample and double checking your weight so we can calculate your medication dosages. Shouldn't take too long."

Poor Chloe. I can't tell if she realizes she's wringing her hands, but I did see her flinch the tiniest bit at almost every word of what Stu just said.

"You...uh...can't just plug me in and press the go button?"

"Afraid not. Chemo infusions are all made-to-order, so it'll take some time for the lab to get your medications ready for you. Normally you'd have to wait outside, but the schedule isn't full today and I figured you'd be more comfortable in here."

It's pretty obvious that Stu has been doing this for a while, because not only do the tests and checks seem to breeze right by, by the time they're over Chloe seems much more at ease. Before we know it, he's already gone to get the lab started on her medicine. Forty-five minutes (which we spend watching videos of kids falling down on my phone and trying not to laugh too hard) go by before he returns, then it takes another ten to set up her infusion pump and connect the line to her port.

"And you're ready to rock and roll," he finally says, pressing a couple buttons on the infuser and stepping back as it begins to hum softly. "The process is going to take a few hours. Did you guys bring anything along to help pass the time?"

"Sure did." I pat the messenger bag slung over my shoulder. "Laptop with a hard drive full of movies."

"Good stuff," Stu nods, pointing to a button on the wall. "Just hit the call button if you need anything."

"We will."

Pulling a small rolling table over, I busy myself setting up the laptop. Attaching an audio splitter, I connect two pairs of headphones and hand one to Chloe. "Alright. You can pick any movie you want."

"Bla-"

"You can pick any movie you want that isn't Blade Runner."

"Seriously?" Chloe groans. "I thought you loved me."

"Even my love has limits, babe. And one of those limits is having to watch Blade Runner more than six times in one month."

"Lame."

I just shrug. She who controls the laptop, controls the empire.

"Hey, did I ever tell you that Daryl Hannah's character in that movie was the..."

"...first girl you ever fantasized about? Many, many times."

She lets out a disappointed huff. Her version of that very simple fact usually takes about five minutes and involves multiple cameos from other characters. "Fine. I guess I can settle for Kill Bill."

"Which also has Daryl Hannah," I point out, a little smugly. She couldn't have possibly thought she'd sneak that by me. "As your girlfriend, I'm not sure if I should be enabling this obsession of yours."

"But I thought you loved me?" Chloe repeats, pouting a little.

"Oh, fine, you big baby." Leaning over, I queue up the movie. Chloe takes the opportunity to peek down the front of my shirt, which of course I notice. Rather than say anything, I briefly lean a little further forward. The tiny, almost unnoticeable noise she makes gives me a little thrill of my own. When I sit back in my seat, I see her trying to act casual.

It's amazing how sometimes it feels like we've been together for years, other times it feels like we've only just started dating, and how both are equally awesome. "All set. You ready?"

"Yeah." Slowly, her eyes drift from me to the infusion pump and back again. Then she settles into her chair and takes my hand in hers. "Yeah, I'm ready."

It's early evening by the time Chloe's infusion is finished, and it leaves her feeling drained and more than a little sick. She spends most of the drive home with her head resting against the car window, dozing until I pull into the driveway. When I walk around to the passenger side and open her door, it says a lot when she lets me help her stand up and gently walk her into the house.

Her movements are slow, but steady, as she shuffles inside. I'm still just a step behind her, though, trying hard to not seem like I'm hovering. "So, how're you feeling?"

"Like shit," she confesses, half-heartedly toeing her shoes off.

"Anything I can do?"

"Honestly, all I can think about right now is taking a shower."

"Don't let me stop you, then." An idea pops into my head and I glance away shyly; so much for Big Bad Max. "I mean, unless you'd like some company?"

Chloe smiles sadly, taking my hand. "Aw, babe. Literally any other time, I'd be all about jumping your skinny hipster bones. But right now I'm just so..."

"It's alright." I rise up on my toes to kiss her. She may tease me about it sometimes, but I've always liked that she's a few inches taller than me. Even though I'm the one with superpowers (even if I can never use them) it makes me feel safe. And it means that I'm pretty much always the little spoon, which I'm definitely okay with. "I totally understand."

"Thanks. But hey, if you'd like to join me for a nap afterward, you know I never say no to some Max cuddl-gah!" She's walking toward the stairs, looking back over her shoulder, and almost trips over a delivery box sitting in the front hall. "What the...?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." She absently waves away my concern, leaning down to massage her stubbed toe and check the information on the box. "Just getting attacked by my own mail."

"Oh? What did you order?" It doesn't have any logos or markings on it to give away where it's from. Just a plain cardboard box with her name and address. "Something cool?"

"Definitely not something cool." Ripping the packing tape off, she reaches into the box and holds up a high school physics textbook. "Yay for summer school courses."

She can groan and complain all she likes, but we both know it's just a front. There's a huge nerd underneath all that rebel punk bad girl bluster, and she's already flipping through the textbook with an excited little glimmer in her eyes. "When did you register for summer school?"

"Last month." She grins, putting the physics text down in favor of one on electronics. "Having my GED is great and all, but I still gotta buff up that GPA if I'm gonna start applying to universities, right?"

"Really?"

"Yep." Her grin shifts into a smirk as she glances up at me. "This chick I've been dating keeps harassing me to think about my future."

While I think that calling it harassment is a bit extreme, I'm not about to argue with the results. "Hmm. She sounds like kind of a pain in the ass."

"I guess." She shrugs. "Super hot though."

"That's awesome, Chloe. Seriously, I'm so proud of you."

Blushing, she puts the textbooks back and lifts the box. "Yeah, well, it might take me a little while, so I better not hear any shit from you about having to date a freshman."

"No promises." I reach out to take the box from her. "Here, I'll carry that for you."

"I got it."

"I don't mi-"

"Max," she interrupts, a little sharply. "I've got it."

"Okay, no problem. You've got it." I raise my hands and take a deliberate step back, taken off guard by the sudden mood shift, and she at least has the decency to look a little guilty.

"I...it's just..." Beneath her pride, there's a tiny note of pleading in her voice. "I can still do stuff like this."

"That's fine, Clo." A small, mean part of me wants to make her feel bad for startling me. I ignore it and keep my tone light. This lines up with pretty much everything I've read about supporting a loved one in cancer treatment. This won't be the only time Chloe loses her cool a little bit and losing mine right back won't help either of us. Whether I'm carrying the boxes, or she is, I just want her to know that I'm here for her. "That's all you had to say."

"I know." Chloe looks away, and I can tell that the scowl on her face isn't for me. "Sorry."

"Hey, what do you say you go have your shower while I make some tea, then you can make it up to me with apology cuddles?"

The little smile that breaks through Chloe's stormy expression kinda makes me feel like a legit superhero. "Deal."

Turning toward the kitchen with a relieved sigh, I have to wonder how often we're going to find ourselves in a similar situation again. As much as I love her, there's no denying that Chloe has a temper. And although she's always shown far more patience with me than she has with literally anyone else, that patience is really going to be put to the test. But, like just about every part of this totally messed-up situation, silently obsessing over what-ifs isn't going to do anything other than turn me into a neurotic mess.

I'm barely around the corner, very deliberately not worrying about Chloe (which is just as hard as you're probably imagining) and trying to remember what kind of tea Mom has in the cupboard next to the fridge, when a loud thump startles me. A muffled cry follows right after it and I rush back to find Chloe sprawled at the bottom of the stairs. She's clutching at her arm, cursing angrily as bright red blood seeps from between her fingers.

I react instinctively, moving before I've even had time to consider what I'm doing. Reaching out to Chloe, I feel the familiar energy start to flow between my fingers. A strong vibration seems to claw its way up my arm and I just push. The noises around me distort, like I'm listening to everything through a long tunnel, and the room blurs. Chloe's blood appears to leap up from the carpet, creeping back up her arm until it vanishes back under her hand.

As the seconds roll back and Chloe rises off the steps, I start to understand what happened. She'd tripped over one of her own discarded shoes and fallen forward onto the stairs. One of the box's corners had managed to wedge itself under her newly implanted catheter port. The textbooks scattered on the floor jump back into the box, then the box itself leaps back up into Chloe's hands. I watch with disgust as her port re-seats itself in her arm, the torn stitches weaving themselves into her skin as she floats back to her feet.

I hate that this is happening, but if I'm already doing it then I'm going to do it right. I wait until Chloe has taken a few steps backward before relaxing my hand. The energy vanishes and the vibration fades away as everything comes back into focus.

"Stop!" I shout as Chloe begins to move forward again, reaching out to grasp the back of her shirt.

"What the...?!" She jumps a little, her gaze moving between me and the hallway she would've just seen me walk down. "The hell did you come from?"

"You'll trip over your shoe."

"What?" She looks down and scowls at the sneaker sitting between her feet. "Seriously, Max? I might feel like crap, but I'm a big girl. I'm not about to take a nosedive over my own damn shoe."

"You can. You did. It was horrible."

"What are you...?" She trails off, and I can see the growing dread on her face. "What the hell do you mean it was?"

I don't explain. I don't have to.

Putting the box down, she reaches out to take me by the shoulders. "Please, Max. Please tell me you didn't do what I think you did."

I'm not exactly guilty, because I could never feel guilty for protecting her, but I still look away. "I...I didn't mean to."

"God damn it!" she shouts, throwing her arms in the air. "You promised me! You fucking swore that you'd never, ever do that again!"

"I know. It just happened! You tripped and tore your port out. There was so much blood and...it just happened."

Chloe holds her glare for a long moment, then lets out a slow breath and moves to the stairs to sit down heavily. "Okay, let's just calm down and think about this. I mean, it's not like we can undo an undo, can we?"

I shake my head.

"Right. And it's not like anything big changed. So what if I didn't trip and hurt my arm? Not the end of the world."

"It could be." I say the words before I can stop myself, because I'm scared and an idiot and that's pretty much how scared idiots roll.

"It's not." She's glaring again, but there's way more fear in her eyes than anger. "We'll just, y'know, watch for the signs. Weird shit from before like the snow and the birds. See if any of it starts happening again."

"What..." My mouth is bone dry and I swallow heavily. "What if it does?"

Reaching out, Chloe takes my hand and pulls me into her arms. "We'll cross that bridge if we come to it, okay?"

I wish it could be as easy as Chloe made it sound, but the two of us still spend the next few hours standing in the backyard and ignoring my parents confused looks. We stare anxiously up into the evening sky with our hands clutched together until the sun finally dips below the horizon, and I almost cry with relief when the snow never falls.

We go through the next week in a permanent state of hyper-awareness, constantly on the lookout for any of the signs we know and watching nervously for anything else we might not have seen before. Anything even remotely unusual, from oddly shaped clouds to a dog that Chloe swears is looking at us strangely, is viewed with suspicion.

No birds fall from the sky, though. There are no unexpected eclipses or unexplained beached whales. The number of moons overhead holds steady at one, and by the time we reach the end of the sixth day, we're willing to accept that we're in the clear.

Just like I did before, I give Chloe my word that I'll never mess around with time again, and I really mean the words when I say them. It's not until much later, as I lay awake in Chloe's arms, that I consider how much harder that promise has become to keep.

The first time I made it, right after the storm, it had almost felt like a formality. I'd been mostly sure that I couldn't still rewind, even if I'd wanted to. Now that I know I can, it's hard to ignore the little voice in the back of my mind that keeps pointing out how useful it could be.

I really don't know what I hate more; the fact that I know that voice is just my own selfishness screwing with me, or the fact that so much of me desperately agrees with what it has to say.

What if Chloe has a bad reaction to some medicine? Shouldn't I use my newly re-discovered powers to go back and make sure she doesn't take it? Obviously, that would be an exception to my promise, because how could she get mad at me for keeping her safe? She'd understand. After all the other times I've saved her, she'd be kind of a hypocrite not to.

Besides, we basically just proved that I could use my rewind without creating a storm. After all, it'd be pretty messed up for me to be handed cosmic powers that were guaranteed to break the universe if I used them at all. I kinda doubt that whoever or whatever gave them to me could be that dumb.

And now that I really think about it, what if the storm never had anything to do with my powers at all? Even if we have always assumed that saving Chloe from getting shot is what caused it, that was never anything more than a theory. We don't know it for a fact. The storm might've been inevitable.

I could've ended up sacrificing Chloe's life for nothing. Just the thought makes me a little nauseous.

But if I'm going to act based on assumptions, I think it's just as safe to assume that unless I use them to save someone who I know is definitely going to die otherwise, rewinding is totally safe.

So, since Chloe is very much alive right now, and because I have no way of knowing for a fact when or if that's going to change, there really isn't any risk in finding a way to try and get her into cancer treatment earlier. All I'd have to do is find the right photo so I can go back and...

Nope. Red light, Max. Stop right there.

I shouldn't even be indulging ideas like these, let alone actually considering them. Even if there is a possibility that these powers (wherever the hell they came from) could be used safely, it's not worth trying. All it would take is one screw-up for things to go horribly wrong, just like before, and I refuse to take that kind of risk.

The only fact that matters is that they're too dangerous to screw around with, and I need to accept that. End of story.

I take a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, and let it out. Then I do it again, and again. After a few minutes I'm confident that my resolve is firmly back in place, and I let myself relax. Nestling further into Chloe's embrace, I giggle softly at the happy noise she makes in her sleep.

I'm going to keep my word to her. I'm not going to do anything with these powers. For everyone's sake, I'm going to try and forget they even exist.

Though it is nice to know that they're there.

Just in case.