June 17, 2015
Freeway Park
Seattle, Washington

One of the things I miss most about Arcadia Bay is how green it was. There was grass and trees everywhere you looked. Seattle, though? Not so much. Not downtown, at least, which is why there's really only one park within half a mile of the gallery. And as luck would have it, it's about the same distance from Max's own shameful place of employment.

"You're a total stereotype. You realize that, don't you?"

"For a paycheck and thirty percent off this baby?" Max holds up her giant mocha frappe whatever-the-hell sugar bomb with a satisfied smile. "I can live with that."

"Honestly," I sniff, taking a sip of my much more dignified latte. "A gay Seattle hipster chick with visible tattoos working at Starbucks? You're one spiked bracelet and a book of shitty poems away from being a full-on cliché."

"I didn't hear you complaining about the discount."

"Just because I'm disappointed in you doesn't mean I'm not practical."

"Uh-huh. So, why did you want to meet up?"

"Right. So I was looking at this new abstract surrealism sculpture at the gallery and it got me thinking." This has been rolling around in my head all morning and I've actually been looking forward to talking about it. "So, you know how when you rewind, it's like you're standing still but everyone else is moving backwards?"

She nods, curious.

"I'm pretty sure that means that even though you're operating outside fourth-dimensional space, you're still tethered to regular three-dimensional space. I mean, you'd have to be. The Earth is spinning at about a thousand miles per hour and orbiting the sun about seventy times faster than that, so if there wasn't something keeping you in place the entire planet would get pulled out from under your feet, wouldn't it?"

"...right."

"Right. Even if you only went back a second, you'd still...er...hold on." I open up a unit converter app on my phone and check a few numbers. "Shit. Assuming it was during the day, you'd end up about a quarter mile east of where you started and about eighteen miles straight up." I don't know why Max is looking at me like that. This isn't particularly complicated stuff. "Alright, where did I lose you?"

"You didn't."

"Then what's with the blank expression?"

"I'm just..." She shrugs. "A little shocked, I guess?"

"At what? That I actually have two fucking brain cells to rub together?"

"What? No!"

"I had a 4.0 GPA for a reason, Max. Or did you think my parents just paid for my grades?"

"I know you're smart, Victoria. Why would I have asked you for help if I didn't?" She points her pita wrap at me. "And for your information, I was shocked because I never considered the possibility of getting thrown into space."

Fuck. Now I look like an insecure bitch.

"And it was 3.9," she adds.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your GPA," she explains. "It wasn't 4.0. It was 3.9."

"How the fuck do you know..." No. I'm not doing this. I'm going to let it go, because I'm a grown woman who is not insecure about how people regard her intelligence. "You know what? I don't care. Let's just move on."

"Alri-"

"But for your information, it was only because I got a C in gym class one fucking time. And let's not pretend that giving out letter grades for gym class isn't complete bullshit, either, because anyone with a brain can see it should be pass or fail. But no, my GPA has to take a hit just so Mr. Always-Wears-Trackpants can feel like a big man."

"Okay, geez. Point taken."

"I'm just saying." I should get a sign that says 'Victoria Chase: Insecure Bitch'. I could wear it around my neck.

"And I'm not arguing." she insists. Giving me a sly look, she adds, "You know, I never would have taken you for a closet nerd."

"I'm not a nerd."

"Whatever you say, Miss How-Dare-You-Question-My-GPA."

"GPAs are important. I'm not a nerd."

"Your surprisingly intense views on Back to the Future III suggests otherwise."

"Not liking a hack-job cash-grab of a sequel doesn't make someone a fucking nerd, Max."

"Come on. I've seen your DVD collection. I'm pretty sure owning that many director's cuts and special editions definitely makes someone a nerd."

"Those aren't mine! They belonged to my...never mind."

"What?"

"Forget it."

"Seriously, what?"

"Ugh," I groan. "My dad was a huge movie buff, okay? We used to have movie nights all the time and it just makes me feel better to re-watch the ones we really liked. Satisfied?"

"Aw. That's really sweet."

I bristle a little, but I don't disagree. Those movie nights are some of my best memories. Mom always insisted that they were 100% family time. No cell phones. No laptops or tablets. No stepping out to 'make a quick call'. Just Mom and I trying to watch a movie while Dad kept trying to tell us whatever facts or bits of trivia he knew about it, whether we wanted him to or not.

They're also what sparked my interest in photography. I fell in love with the idea of capturing a moment in time and sharing it with the world as soon as Dad started introducing me to filmmakers like Stanley Kubrick and Ridley Scott.

"That's not the point. I'm saying that he was the nerd, not me."

"Got it," she nods. "You're not a nerd."

"Damn right I'm not."

"You just appreciate classic movies, like your dad did."

"Exactly."

"...but not Back to the Future III."

I swear, I just want to slap the smug right off her face right now. "No, Max. Not Back to the fucking Future III."

June 25, 2015
Washington Park
Seattle, Washington

I'm a simple girl, and (the contents of my closet notwithstanding) I have fairly simple desires. For example, my desire right now is to be able to enjoy getting out of the house for a reason other than work. But even though it's a really nice day, I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen. Mainly because for the last five minutes, Max has been staring at the bagel in her hand with a lot more intensity than it could possibly deserve.

It's weird and distracting and I'm almost ready to say something when she takes a takes a bite, hisses over what's undoubtedly a bitten tongue, then finally turns to looks at me. "Remember what you were saying on Wednesday? That whole 'falling off the planet' thing and how I'm probably still in normal space?"

Reluctantly putting my muffin down, I place my elbow on the picnic table, propping up my chin. "What about it?"

"What if I'm rewinding and something passes through the place I'm standing?"

"Has anything like that ever happened before?"

She shakes her head. "When I rewind it's either in the spot I was standing the whole time, so no one would have walked through it anyway, or somewhere out of the way so no one freaks when I appear out of nowhere."

"I..." I briefly consider the possible implications of that, such as disturbing images of Max fused with random strangers. "I don't think this is something we want to test."

She shudders. I bet she's picturing the same kind of thing I am. "Definitely not."

"It's still something we need to be aware of, though. Probably not the only thing, either." Reaching into my bag, I pull out a pen and a small notepad.

"Do you always carry a notebook around with you?"

"You don't?" I counter, flipping to the first blank page. "Alright, I don't want us getting blindsided, so let's lay it all out. We'll start with your basic plan. Everything you want to accomplish, and how much of a priority each one is. We honestly should have done this on day one."

Max shrugs. "Better late than never?"

"First," I say, ignoring the urge to roll my eyes. I worried that if I roll my eyes at Max every time she deserves it I might damage my vision. "We need to figure out how to get you back to Arcadia Bay before the storm hits. Obviously, that's priority number one."

"Well, yeah."

"Second, we need to think very carefully about where you actually rewind. It has to be somewhere that hasn't seen much, if any, activity in the last couple of years. The last thing you need is some random person walking through the spot you're standing and, I don't know, merging with you or something."

"My new recurring nightmare," she shudders.

"No kidding." I might not end up having actual nightmares, but it's still a tough image to shake. "Third, we need to determine the exact point in time you're aiming for. Fourth, we need to list out all the things you plan to accomplish. And fifth, we need to figure out how you're going to actually accomplish those things."

"Isn't that a lot? I mean, considering we're still hung up on the 'how to get me there' part?"

"Which is why that's priority number one. And we are going to figure it out." I hope I sound more confident than I feel. For all we actually know about time travel, I might as well promise to fly us to Mars. "Anyway, we're going to set that aside for right now. Let's start with number two."

"Arcadia Bay," Max says, before I can continue. "It's where I need to be anyway. More importantly, it's been empty all this time. Nobody there to accidentally walk through me."

"Hm." I grunt, because I really, really want to argue. But as much as I loathe the idea of returning to whatever's left of Arcadia Bay, she's right. When she travels into the past, she always appears in the spot she began rewinding from. Starting from anywhere else would just be a waste of time.

"I get it. I haven't gone back since the storm, either. I don't even like looking at pictures of it." She shrugs. "But no matter how much time we spend pretending like there's another option, we both know I need to do this in Arcadia Bay."

"Well, at least that's one point taken care of. Yay for progress," I grumble, drawing a line through that sentence. "Okay, on to number three. How far back are you going to go? I think Monday afternoon is a pretty good possibility. It'd give you a good head start."

"No, that's way too early. The younger version of me needs to be there on Tuesday afternoon to talk Kate down from the roof."

The bottom falls out of my stomach as soon as the name passes her lips. I forgot. How could I forget? Where the fuck do I, of all fucking people, get off forgetting about Kate? "Right. Of course. That was stupid of me. After...after Kate tried to...after that, classes were all cancelled for the rest of the day. You'd have the most freedom then."

Max is frowning a little and the pity in her eyes makes me want to scream. "Victoria, I'm..."

"What about Tuesday night?" I interrupt, loudly. "You can drop right into your dorm room and no one will know the difference."

She hesitates. Max is probably the kind of person who'd want to 'talk about it', but Kate Marsh isn't a topic I want to dwell on. Ever. Thankfully, she seems to take a hint. "I actually wasn't in my dorm room that night."

"At all?" I ask, and she shakes her head. "Then where were you? It's not like Arcadia Bay had much of a nightlife."

"With Chloe." She's blushing a little.

"The whole night?"

"Mhm."

Oh, this is too good. "So you're saying that we can't use Tuesday night because you and Price were doing the nasty?"

"No. We were just..."

She can't even look at me. This is hilarious. "You were just...?"

"Maybe...possibly...breaking into the Blackwell pool to go for a swim?"

"Oh. So we can't use Tuesday night because you and the blue menace were busy skinny dipping."

"No! I mean...no, but..."

"How about Wednesday morning? Or is that going to interrupt your love life, too?" I look up from my notes to find her blushing even more. "Are you kidding me? Is there any point that week where the two of you weren't going at it like rabbits?!"

"We weren't even...ugh!" Even though her face looks ready to burst into flames, she manages a halfway decent glare. "Whatever. Wednesday morning is actually a pretty good option. Worth considering at least."

"Alright, we'll just put a pin in that for now. What do you say we try listing your objectives?"

"That's another easy one," she nods. "Save Chloe and save Arcadia Bay."

Alright, that is way too broad. I might have to hold her hand through this more than I thought. "That's the finish line. We're talking about how to run the race. You need to be more specific."

"Alright, fine. First, tell Chloe she has lung cancer and get her into treatment. The easiest way to do that woul-"

"Not quite that specific," I interrupt, ignoring her irritated expression. "We can get into the fine details later. Right now we're just listing your steps. Now, what's the first thing you're going to do when you get there?"

Chase Residence
Seattle, Washington

"What do you mean we can't keep the storm from destroying Arcadia Bay?"

Three hours. We've been going around and around for three hours, all the way back from the park and into my living room, and somehow we keep coming back to this. Max is fixated on the idea of saving the entire town, but it just isn't going to happen. "I'm not sure what part wasn't clear."

"Victoria..."

"Based off what we know, preventing that storm isn't an option. If saving Chloe is what caused it, then preventing it means not saving her. And since I'm pretty sure you want Chloe to live..."

She gives me a look but doesn't bother to respond.

"Alternatively, if the storm was caused by whatever gave you your powers, somehow preventing it means you don't get them, and Chloe dies anyway. And both of those are ignoring the possibility that it was just a freak storm that, whatever your ego might think, didn't have anything to do with you and your powers in the first place!" I raise a hand and take a slow breath. "You know what? I think that's it for me. If we go over this again my brain might actually implode."

For once, Max doesn't argue. "You're right. I definitely think that's enough for tonight. I'm also kinda hungry."

"Me, too." Standing, I try to stretch the kinks out of my back. "Ugh. I really don't feel like cooking."

"We could order pizza?"

I'm tempted, but honestly even the thought of that much bread makes me feel a little bloated. I have no idea how Max can eat as many carbs as she does and still manage to stay so slim. Probably some kind of time-traveler bullshit. "Nah. I'm kind of in the mood for something different."

"Like what?"

I think about it. "You know what I haven't had in a while? Chinese take-out."

"Ooh, yeah." Max's eyes light up. "Some beef broccoli sounds really good right now."

"Alright, done. I know a great place." I absently wave her toward the living room. "I'll order. You go pick something to watch."

"So, we're just going to hang out tonight?"

She doesn't exactly sound hesitant, but I still falter a little before glancing back. I hadn't given it that much thought, but now that I look back over the last couple of weeks, almost all of our time together has been focused on this scheme of ours. For some reason, the idea of just hanging out seems a little strange. I haven't spent much time with people my own age in a while, because it turns out that being a prickly, salty bitch doesn't get you a lot of friends. All told, except for a few stiff workplace gatherings and a handful of one-night stands, I've pretty much kept to myself.

Honestly, just hanging out sounds really appealing.

"I guess? I mean...if you want to?"

"Yeah, actually," she smiles. "Ask them to put extra sesame seeds on mine, okay?"

"You got it." I feel my shoulders relax. "I can get some extra eggrolls, too, if you want?"

"I...I don't...ugh..."

"Okay, it was just a suggestion." I look back, annoyed, in time to see Max vanish from her seat on the couch and reappear in the corner of the room. Dropping my phone, I lunge forward just as her eyes roll back and catch her as she's falling. She's too heavy for me to hold up, but I still manage to ease her down to the floor. "Max?! Max, can you hear me?!"

She doesn't answer, trembling like a leaf and gasping for air like she just ran a marathon. Her eyes are wide and staring at nothing, and there's a steady trickle of blood coming from her nose. Grabbing a couple of tissues from the box on the coffee table, I gently press them to her face and wonder if I should be calling an ambulance right now.

"Come on, Max! I need you to say something!"

It takes a few more seconds, but her breathing gradually slows down. She blinks a little erratically as the trembling eases, then finally gives me a jerky nod. "I...I'm okay...I'm okay..."

"The hell you are." I've never heard someone sound less okay in my entire life, including the time Courtney tries to kill a whole bottle of Jägermeister on her own. "What was that?"

"...rewind...came back...far..."

Yeah, that figures. This is probably gonna start being a regular thing. But as much as I want to know more, Max doesn't seem like she's in any shape to answer questions right now.

"Alright. You think you can walk?"

She considers that for a second, then nods slowly. "Mhm."

"Okay." I help her to her feet and hold her steady. "What do you say we get you cleaned up?"

"M'kay." Max yawns loudly, her eyelids already drooping, leaning her head onto my shoulder as I lead her to the bathroom. "Pretty tired..."

"You look pretty tired." Sitting her down on the edge of the bathtub, I pull a facecloth from the cupboard and run it under the tap. "But I'm going to let you get some sleep before I interrogate you, okay?"

"I don't wanna couch," she grumbles as I start cleaning off her face, careful not to press too hard on the small pimple by her lip. Someone needs to ease back on the greasy foods, I think. I'm almost done wiping the blood away by the time I notice there isn't any on her shirt. It takes a second for that fact to register, and I lean back to take another look.

There'd been blood on her shirt before. I'm certain of it. Not a lot - just a few drops - but I definitely remember seeing it. I even remember thinking about how much the red stood out against the plain white cotton as I was lowering her to the ground. And now that I'm thinking about it, I'm not 100% sure that pimple was there when her nose started bleeding.

"Victoria?"

"Huh?"

"You're staring," she points out, sounding more perplexed than offended. I guess we can deal with this later.

"Sorry. And don't worry about the couch either. You can sleep in the guest room."

"You've got a guest room?"

"Yep. It's got a real bed and everything." I help her back to her feet and start guiding her toward the stairs. "We can talk about it in the morning, along with whatever stupid time-thing you just did, okay?"

"M'kay."