What in the hell is taking so long? How much time does this guy need to confirm that Max is awake? And why do I need to wait out in the hall while he does it?

I bet El Bitch Grande is behind this. She probably made some shit up and turned the rest of the staff against me. This is a goddamn conspiracy. Well, if she thinks she can get away with this shit...

"Chloe?"

"Huh?"

"She'd like to see you." I'm on my feet before he's finished talking, but he's blocking the door. What the hell, man? "I know you're anxious to get in there but try to be gentle with her. She's in a hospital bed for a reason."

"C'mon, man. It's not like I'm gonna to jump on top of her or something."

"Glad to hear it." Smirking, he steps aside before I can shove him out of the way. I'm through the door a half second later and suddenly there she is, sitting up and smiling at me. My heart leaps the moment our eyes meet and before I know it I've already rushed to her bedside. "Oh god, Max! Are you okay? What the fuck happened? I thought you were dying! Was it something I did? If it was I am so, so sorry! Please forgive me! I was so scared tha-"

"Chloe." She silences me with a single word, lifts her hand, and the way she gently brushes her fingers against my cheek makes it really hard to focus on whatever I was just saying. "Hey."

"H-hey."

"I'm okay," she says, softly.

"You are?"

"I am."

"Oh." I swallow heavily. "You...uh...you really scared me."

She doesn't respond, and I can feel my face growing warmer under her touch. There's something in the way she's looking at me, like I'm the most beautiful thing she's ever seen. For a second I think she's going to kiss me again. I'm about to lean forward when she lowers her hand and looks away. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

The spell is broken the instant our eyes break contact and I suddenly remember that I'm actually kinda pissed. "You didn't mean to? What the fuck was that, Max?!"

"It's...uh...it's kind of a long story."

Oh, there's no way in hell that I'm letting her get away with that bullshit. "I've got time."

"This might not be the best place." She leans forward to try and peer out the door. "We should really..."

"Don't you dare try that stalling shit on me. I want to know what the fuck is going on! Why the fuck did you have some kind of fucked up seizure in my bedroom? Are you sick? Do you have a brain tumor or something?" I pause. "Oh god you have a brain tumor, don't you?"

She giggles softly and I can't decide whether I still want to kiss her, or just smack her upside the head. "No, Chloe. I don't have a brain tumor. I'm pretty sure that was a one-time thing."

"You're pretty sure...what?" My mind ticks a few points toward 'smack upside the head'. "Okay, then how about you tell me who the fuck Mackenzie Clayton is?"

"That's..."

"And where did those fucking tattoos come from?"

"I..."

"And how the fuck did your hair get so long? Are those extensions? They've gotta be extensions!"

"Actually..."

"And since when are you gay?"

"Well..."

"And while we're at it, what in the fuck was that kiss all about?!"

She blinks, the corners of her lips curling up in a smile. "What do you mean?"

"You know perfectly fucking well what I mean."

"Oh, right." She shrugs. "Well, you did dare me to kiss you."

Is she smirking at me? Oh my fucking god. "Do not mess with me right now, Max."

"Oh, did you mean the other kiss?"

"Yeah, I mean the other kiss," I repeat in the most mocking tone I can pull off, which is pretty fucking mocking. I've had a lot of practice.

"Was there something wrong with it?"

"No, it was..." Amazing? Magical? So insanely hot that I'm getting a little turned on just remembering it? "That's not the fucking point! You...you just kissed me!"

"I sure did."

"Why?!" I hold up my hand before she can answer. "And if you say it was because I dared you to, I will seriously flip the fuck out."

She smiles, looking up at me through her eyelashes. Her hair falls to shadow her face a little, making her eyes look dark and a little hungry. I'm pretty sure she's messing with me but I'm also pretty sure it might be the sexiest thing I've ever seen and oh my god what is wrong with me? "I did it because I really, really wanted to kiss you."

"Look, you can't just...just...kiss someone without giving them a heads up!" Holy goddamn, did those words really just come out of my mouth?

"I can't?"

"No!" I'd much rather say 'yes, you can' followed by 'now kiss me again', but I'm having trouble keeping up with this whole conversation. I feel like I've fallen ass backwards into some kind of screwed up alternate universe where Max is the brash punk girl and I'm the shy, stammering hipster chick.

"You know, you could have just kissed me," she points out, a little smugly. "Without the whole 'I dare you' part."

"I..." Really, really wanted to but that was back when I thought you were straight. "...didn't want to freak you out."

She looks like she's about to argue, then nods thoughtfully. "Yeah, that's fair. I probably would have freaked out a little."

"But you just said..."

"Oh, just a heads up?" she interrupts. "I'm gonna kiss you now."

"You're wha-"

Max reaches out, silences me with a gentle fingertip, then leans forward to replace it with soft lips. It's brief, not even enough time for me to kiss her back, but the impish smile she gives me as she's drawing back still leaves me feeling a little short of breath. "Was that better?"

"I, uh...what?"

"I'll take that as a yes."

I need to get back on my feet. Get back in control of this conversation.

"So...uh...I guess you are gay, then?" Holy hell, what is wrong with me today? I've said some really dumb shit in my life but asking the girl with the pride tattoo who keeps kissing me whether or not she's gay has to be the dumbest.

"I'm sorry?" she laughs.

"I'm...um..." I'm fidgeting now. I hate things that make me fidget. The last time I felt this flustered was the first time Rachel and I...never mind. "Just asking for a friend."

"Uh-huh." She rolls her eyes. "Well, feel free to tell your friend that yes, I'm gay."

"Oh. Okay." I swallow dryly, wishing I had a glass of water or something. "Kinda surprised you didn't mention it earlier."

"I totally would have but the way I remember it, I didn't really figure it out until a few weeks from now."

The more I try to unpack that sentence, the less sense it seems to make. And she's smirking at me again. Oh my god, what a brat. "Okay, seriously. What is going on here?"

"I'll explain everything, I swear, but first we need to get out of here."

"What?" Yeah, that settles it; Max has gone crazy. "A few hours ago you were bleeding out of every goddamn hole in your head!"

"I guess I got better." Leaning over, she starts inspecting the heart monitor thing she's connected to. After a second, she grins and presses a button on the side. An 'ALARM MUTED' message appears on the screen, followed quickly by 'NO SIGNAL / CHECK LEADS' as she makes short work of removing the various sensor pads stuck to her body.

"You can't just leave!"

"Sure I can." She grins, reaching over to press a blue button on the wall marked 'PAGE'. Throwing off the blanket, she swings her legs around and hisses when her toes touch the ground. "Ah! Cold floor!"

I'm worried and still kinda pissed off, but my Max-teasing reflex cannot be denied. "Need me to go get your slippers?"

"Oh, shush." She stands, swaying on her feet for a second. "Whoa. Head rush."

I'm instantly hit with a flashback to the last time she said those words and imagine of her crumpling bonelessly to the ground. Only this time, her head cracks against the hospital room's white linoleum floor. I barely even think before surging forward, grabbing hold of her and pulling her body tight against mine.

"Well, hello there," she purrs, her face barely an inch from mine.

"Uh...hey."

Her voice is infuriatingly innocent as she asks, "Was there something you wanted?"

You know what? Fuck this. I'm Chloe Fucking Price, and I'm done being on the defensive. "Yeah, actually. There is."

"And what's tha-"

I don't give her a chance to finish, closing the distance and capturing her lips. She lets out a surprised (and extremely satisfying) squeak, then she's pulling me closer, kissing me like she hasn't seen me in a hundred years. Grasping the front of my jacket like she's afraid if she lets me go, she'll never see me again.

The possessiveness of it makes me feel strangely cherished as I savor the feeling of her lips on mine. My wandering hands have only just begun to explore the very open back of her hospital gown when we're suddenly and rudely interrupted by a loud cough.

We spring apart like a pair of teenagers caught making out (which I guess we kinda are) and find the shaggy-haired nurse from earlier standing awkwardly in the door.

"Uh, did one of you hit the call button?" He glances at the blue button next to where Max is leaning. "On purpose, I mean?"

"Oh, er..." Max raises her hand a little. "Yeah, that was me."

"Right. Did you need something?"

"Yes, I'd like to check out, please."

"I'm not sure that's..."

"I'm fine checking out AMA."

He doesn't look happy about it, but he nods. "I'll let your doctor know. It might take a little time, though, and you'll have to sign a waiver."

"That's fine." Max smiles sweetly. "Do you know where my clothes are?"

"Yeah, I'll grab them for you." He hesitates. "We'll have to hold on to your driver's license, though. At least until your bill is settled."

"I understand."

He nods again, pulling the door closed as he leaves.

"I'm kinda surprised they didn't throw your clothes out as soon as you got here," I comment, trying to ignore the way Max's open-backed gown is reflected in the room's mirror. I almost succeed, too, but damn it; I'm not made of stone.

Max gives me a confused look. "Why would they?"

"You were still wearing the clothes you slept in when they brought you here. And they were pretty much covered in blood."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Do...do you not remember that?" I'm getting really tired of having to worry about Max like this. I just want to worry about her normally for a while.

"Damn it," she mutters. "Why didn't my clothes come with me?"

It sorta seems like she's talking to herself, but her tone still makes me feel a little defensive. "Well golly fucking gee, Max. I'm sorry I didn't remember to pack you a fucking overnight bag while they were loading you into the fucking ambulance."

"That's not what I mea..." Max trails off. "Wait, how long was it from when I kissed you to when the ambulance drove away with me?"

"What? How the hell should I know?" What kind of question is that? Just for that, I'm gonna straight up ogle her in the mirror. That'll show her.

"Try to guess," she presses, like it's actually really important.

"I dunno." Ogling intensifies. "Like, fifteen minutes? Maybe twenty? Shit got kinda fucked-up and it's not like I had a stopwatch."

"All at once?" she murmurs, almost too quietly to hear, turning toward the door (and coincidentally, turning more of her back to the mirror). Her gown is tied up enough to keep her out of 'indecent exposure' territory but the smooth (and surprisingly toned) length of her back, her skin all pale and freckled, is still totally stare-worthy.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, absently.

"I'll tell you later. Maybe when you're not busy undressing me with your eyes?"

Uh-huh. Two can play at that game, Caulfield. "Pretty hard to undress you with my eyes when you're barely dressed."

I swear, watching the faint blush creep up her neck is just the best thing ever.

"You shush."

I really want to see If I can make her blush even worse, but Mr. Nurse picks that exact moment to come back in. He's carrying a sealed blue bag that he holds out to Max. "Here you go. Everything you came in with."

"Thanks." Max nods, accepting the bag with one hand and trying to hold the back of her gown closed with the other.

"Y'know, you're actually pretty lucky," he comments on his way out the door. "Usually the paramedics cut peoples' clothes off before they get to the hospital. Guess they didn't think it was necessary."

"Yeah, real lucky," Max murmurs. Ripping the bag open, she peers inside and her shoulders sag with relief. "Oh, thank goodness."

"You're really that happy about a set of blood-stained PJs? Hell, I've tossed clothes in the trash with a lot less blood on 'em." Max doesn't bother to respond as she starts pulling out clothes...none of which I've seen before. "The hell? Did they give you the wrong bag or something?"

"No, it's..."

What a load of crap. Like we aren't dealing with enough right now. Max doesn't need to be going through some rando's dirty laundry, too. "Yo, nurse guy! Get back in here!"

"Chloe!" Max hisses.

"I'm just..." I stop, take in Max's pissed off expression, and try to figure out how things just went south. "What?"

The same guy comes back into the room before she can answer, a concerned look on his face. "Everything alright?"

I nod, pointing to the plastic bag. "This isn't Max's stuff."

"Yes it is, Chloe," Max mutters, smiling tightly.

"It's not?" he asks, his brow furrowed.

"Nope. Must've been a mix-up."

"Huh. Sorry about that. Lemme take a look." He walks over and checks the bag's contents. "No, these are definitely her things."

"Pretty sure they're not. She wasn't wearing any of those when they put her in the ambulance."

"I don't know what to tell you, but she was wearing them when she got to the hospital." Pulling a sheet of paper out of the bag, he hands it to me and points to 'Mackenzie's' name (whatever the fuck that's all about) at the top of the page. "See?" Then he points to the signature at the bottom. "I logged it all myself when she was admitted."

"I..."

"It's definitely my stuff, Chloe," Max insists, cutting me off. "See?"

Turning to argue, I just about choke when I see her holding up a three-bullet necklace. My three-bullet necklace which should still be at home, because there's absolutely no way Max could've had time to grab it.

"I...uh...r-right." Turning to Jason, I give him what I really hope looks like a normal smile. "Sorry, dude. My bad."

"Don't sweat it." He shrugs, turning to Max. "The doc has to sign off on your discharge paperwork before I can bring it to you, but that should only take about twenty minutes. Sound good?"

"Sounds good. Would you mind closing the door on your way out?"

"Sure." The door click shut a second later, and I take a very long, very slow breath.

"Max, how in the hell do you have my fucking neckl...ahh!" I turn back to face her, then immediately spin on my heel, raising a hand to block the view. "Dude! A little warning next time?!"

"What are you...?" Max sounds genuinely confused for a second, then her voice turns strange. "Right. Sorry. I guess I kinda forgot."

"You forgot that you were naked?"

"No, I just..." Max hesitates again. "Forget it. I'll explain later, I promise."

"Whatever," I grumble, still a little hung up on the image of Max's body framed by the early afternoon light. I keep my eyes fixed on the far wall, trying not to let the rustling sounds behind me lead my imagination anywhere I don't want it to go. "So, uh, what's up with your hand?"

"Hm?"

"The split knuckles?"

"Oh, right. I punched someone," she says in a surprisingly matter-of-fact tone. "And I only split one knuckle, thank you very much."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"What'd they do to set you off?" Max isn't exactly the 'violence first' type. "Must've been pretty nasty."

"Worse than you can imagine," she responds, darkly. Before I can ask, she adds, "Okay, I'm dressed."

I cautiously glance over my shoulder, not sure whether I'm relieved or disappointed to find her fully clothed.

There's nothing remarkable about what she's wearing. The clothes are more or less the same style she's been rocking since Monday. The only weird thing is that they fit her perfectly, and I'd bet everything I own that when she'd been loaded into that ambulance, the only thing she'd had on under that blanket had been blood-stained pajamas.

That's not the kind of thing a person forgets.

"New clothes?"

"Sorta," she answers shortly, looking around. "Have you seen a messenger bag?"

"You mean yours? It's still back at my place."

"No, a different one. It's made from dark red canvas. It should have been with the rest of my stuff."

"Nope."

"You mind double-checking?"

"I guess," I glance around the room, even stoop to look under the bed, but there aren't many places a messenger bag could be hiding. I stand up to find Max leaning close to the room's mirror, fiddling with something under her hair. "What are you doing?"

"Putting my earrings back in," she mutters, wincing slightly.

"Seems like a weird time to worry about your jewelry."

She turns her head to give me a flat look. There's already one steel ring in her upper right ear, and she's holding two more. "Have you ever had a cartilage piercing close up? Because I have, and it sucks."

"I'll take your word for it." I'm trying really hard to not be jealous of how badass her new piercings look. "No luck with the bag. I don't think it's here."

"Must've appeared back at your place." She catches my expression in the mirror and adds, "I'll explain..."

"Later," I finish, rolling my eyes for the umpteenth fucking time. "Yeah, I remember. Just a heads up, I doubt that excuse is gonna fly with your mom and dad."

She chuckles, turning back. "Then I guess I'm lucky they're in Seattle, aren't I?"

"Not anymore."

She puts the last earring in with a faint hiss. "Not anymore?"

"Yeah, they're driving down. Should be here..." I pull out my phone. "Fuck, pretty soon actually."

"They're what?!" she cries, spinning around. "Who the hell called them?!"

"My mom did."

"And she told them to come here?!"

"Dude, you had a seizure. You're in the fucking hospital. Why the fuck wouldn't she?"

"Okay, we have to leave. Right now."

"What's the rush?"

"Because they aren't supposed to be here. The plan doesn't account for them."

"The plan? What plan?"

"I said I'll explain later."

Alright, that's it. Time out.

"No, you'll explain now."

"We don't..."

"I swear to god, Max, we aren't going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck you're talking about!"

"There isn't time."

I cross my arms and plant myself between her and the door. I know it's a pointless gesture. If she wants to, she can just rewind right the fuck around me. I just hope she decides to trust me instead. "I'm waiting."

"Damn it, Chloe." She squeezes her eyes shut, looking like she's trying to gather her thoughts. "Alright, look. I'm not your Max, exactly. I'm from two years in the future. I traveled back to this week from October 2015 to change the past."

Part of me really wants to call bullshit, but I have to admit that it explains a lot. And it I'm being honest, going from 'Max can time travel' to 'Max can time travel a lot' isn't exactly a huge mental leap. That doesn't mean I'm anywhere near satisfied, though.

"Alright." I nod slowly. "And?"

"Chloe, I..."

"And?"

"Fine," she huffs, like I'm the one being difficult. "In my timeline, Arcadia Bay gets wiped out by a superstorm in about..." She glances at her watch. "...thirty-six hours. There won't be any warning. Everything is destroyed and only seven people make it out alive, including you and me."

"I already know tha-"

"Chloe, seriously." She glances past me to the door. "You have no idea how much I don't want to leave without you, but I will if I have to."

I hold my glare for another moment. "There's a longer version of this, right?"

"Way longer."

"And you're going to tell me everything?"

"Absolutely. I promise."

"...you really piss me off sometimes, you know that?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Whatever. But just so we're clear." I step forward, jabbing a finger at her. "This is the kind of best-friend level trust you definitely haven't earned back yet."

"I know," she nods, looking happy enough to cry. "Thank you, Chloe."

"Yeah, well, you're just lucky you're hot."

Her eyes go a little wide, despite everything, and she glances away with a shy smile. A faint blush is creeping up her neck again. I don't care when she says she's from; she's still Max.

I turn around so she can't see me smiling back. "Alright, let's go see about getting you signed out."

"No time."

"You can't just dine and dash, Max. The hospital has your driver's license, remember?"

"No, they have Mackenzie Clayton's license."

I'd actually forgotten about that. I guess my brain deleted that little tidbit to make room for some hi-resolution 'naked Max' memories. Honestly, no regrets there. "Yeah, who the fuck is Mackenzie Clayton?"

"Nobody. It's a fake ID."

"Hold up. You have a fake ID?"

"Seriously, Chloe?! Later!" She pulls a very familiar blue beanie out of her pocket (where the hell did she get that?) and pulls it on, tucking most of her hair out of sight. With it on, and with her ears and tattoos hidden, she looks just like the Max I went swimming with yesterday. "We need to be gone before Mom and Dad get here, or they'll never let me out of their sight."

"Alright, alright. Lemme just make sure the coast is clear." Peeking out the door, I don't see anyone in either direction. "Looks good."

I lead the way into the empty hallway, trying to remember if I passed any exits on my way here. Unfortunately, at the time my mind was stuck on the whole does Max actually have tattoos thing. Which she does, it turns out. Two of them. Maybe more. But as much as I really, really want to check if there are more, that's a fantasy for another time. Luckily, I notice that the intersection down the hall features a convenient fire door on the far side, so I grab Max's hand and we make a break for it.

We're almost there when a trio of hospital staff members come walking around the corner ahead of us. They're chatting to each other and not looking in our direction, but there's absolutely no way they won't notice us rush past them and escape out a fire exit.

Jerking to the right, I pull Max into what I really hope is an empty room and shut the door behind us as quietly as I can. "Shit, that was too close."

But when Max doesn't respond, I turn around to discover that it is, in fact, not an empty room.

"Max? Chloe?"

"Oh...uh...hey, Kate."