October 9, 2013
Just Outside Arcadia Bay, Oregon

"Chloe, stop!"

"Fuck you!" I shout over my shoulder, but I don't look back. Right now I feel like I could run through a brick wall. Like the devil himself could show up offering me everything I'd ever wanted, and I'd kick him square in the balls for trying to stand in my way. Like nothing in the world could stop me...but I'm not gonna look back.

Brick walls and devils are one thing. Max Caulfield is another, and if I look back she'll do that thing she used to do when we were kids whenever I lost my temper. The thing where she looks at me with those big fucking eyes of hers and starts saying things that are true and suddenly I'm calming down.

I don't want to calm down. I want to be angry. I want to be enraged. I want to be righteously fucking wrathful because Rachel was fucking Frank Bowers and straight up lied to my face about it. Because Nathan Prescott killed her and buried in a shallow grave and if I actually stop to think about that I'll probably lose it entirely. And now I am starting to think about it, so I scream so hard my throat hurts and even though my heart is thundering in my chest and my lungs are on fire, I still push myself to move faster.

"Chloe, please calm down," Max's voice is just behind me and I hear her stumble as she tries to match my longer stride. "Just stop and talk to me."

"I said fuck you, Max! And fuck talking!" I snap back. "You lied to me!"

"I didn't lie. I...damn it."

In the blink of an eye, she goes from twenty feet behind me to right between me and the truck and I barely manage to stop before slamming into her.

"Please, Chloe, I just..."

Oh, that's fucking it. If Max thinks I'm gonna put up with her time travel bullshit right now, she's out of her fucking mind. Getting right in her face, I grab her by her hoodie and yank her close. "You just what, Max? Just forgot to tell me that the whole six months I've been searching for Rachel she was already fucking dead?!"

"I was going to tell you, Chloe. I swear I was. I just needed to find the right time to do it."

"Fuck you!" I shout again, shaking her. It's infuriating when she doesn't look nearly as intimidated as I want her to be. "It should have been the first fucking thing out of your mouth!"

"But..."

"I loved her, Max! Do you get that?! Rachel was here for me after everybody else stopped giving a shit!" I shove her away. "Including you!"

Max stumbles backward and her eyes go wide when her heel catches on an exposed root. Her arms pinwheel for a second as she tries to keep her balance, then she drops on her ass with a small yelp. She doesn't even try to stand up. She just sits there in the dirt, looking up at me with wide-eyed shock.

Damn it. Now I just feel like an asshole.

It doesn't matter that I'm so mad at her that I'm practically seeing red. She's still Max, which is why I don't even think before I step forward and reach out my hand. It's kind of crazy that even though I was the one who knocked her over, she doesn't hesitate for a second before letting me help her to her feet.

"Chloe, I..."

"Don't." I didn't like seeing her fall over, but I do kinda enjoy the way her mouth snaps shut. "Whatever you have to say, I don't wanna hear it. Move it or get left behind."

Even though I'm pretty sure I wouldn't really have left Max behind; she definitely doesn't give me a chance to consider it. She's sitting beside me before the keys are in the ignition, still quiet but watching me intently. She looks a little pale and keeps rubbing her forehead. I almost ask if she's alright, then I remember that I'm mad at her.

I wish I still had my cigarettes on me, just so I could light one right in front of her. Then I'd just blow the smoke right in her smug 'I'm-from-the-future' face. Then I'd feel like an asshole again. Then I'd probably remember I have cancer and start crying, because I have fucking cancer.

I don't want to die. I don't want Rachel to be dead. And I want to be able to trust Max but I also want her to be lying about the cancer and about Rachel and...and...

"FUCK!" I scream, stomping down on the gas pedal, and I feel the back tires spin on the loose dirt for a second before they find a grip.

It's a bumpy quarter mile to the end of the old service road and the turn onto Bay Avenue. Our secret hideaway isn't a very long walk from my house, and when we were kids it only ever took about fifteen minutes to get there. But back then we traveled in a straight line through the woods. Taking the truck might be easier, but it does make the trip longer.

"Chloe, you need to slow down."

"No, Max. What I need to do is kill Nathan Prescott." Deep down, I'm a little worried at how easily the words come out. Glancing down at the truck's speedometer, I do note that the needle is already past forty and creeping closer to fifty.

From the corner of my eye, I see her furiously shaking her head. "No, you can't do that."

"The fuck I can't." I'm very aware of the handgun tucked into the back of my jeans as I put a little more pressure on the gas. "That perverted little shit murdered Rachel, so I'm going to blow his fucking brains out. Simple."

"Chloe, please listen. I have a plan, and it doesn't include you going to prison for murder."

I turn to glare at Max, but her expression is so open and earnest that it threatens to rob me of my anger; for some reason that makes me want to lash out even more. "You have a plan?! Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Watch the road, Chloe."

I ignore both Max's request and the nervous tremor in her voice. "Because any plan you might have that doesn't include saving Rachel's life is bullshit. You're a fucking time traveler, Max! Why can't you just go back and warn her?"

Her eyes dart back and forth between me and the truck's windshield. "Please, Chloe, if you're not going to stop at least watch where you're going!"

"Were you even willing to try?!" She looks like I just slapped her. "Or is she not worth saving?!"

"It's not like that, Chloe! I don't even know if it's poss-" Max's eyes suddenly go wide as saucers. "LOOK OUT!"

My attention snaps back to the road and all thoughts of Rachel, Nathan Prescott, and vengeance fly from my mind. While my focus has been on Max, I've let the truck drift into the oncoming lane. Now I suddenly find myself facing an eighteen-wheeler head on. Its chrome grill seems to fill my vision as it bears down on us, its horn blaring.

Oh no, I think as my entire body seizes in panic. Just like Dad.

Then Max lunges over and jerks the steering wheel to the right, swerving my battered pickup back into its lane. Although we manage to avoid a collision, it's a terrifyingly near miss; the oncoming semi-trailer passes closely enough that its fender manages to shear my side-view mirror right off the door. The harsh sound it makes as it's ripped away pulls a frightened scream out of my throat.

I slam my foot down on the brake, leaving a pair of black skid marks as my truck fishtails on the pavement. Forcing it back under control, I cut to the right, taking us off the road and onto the gravel shoulder. Prying one trembling hand off the wheel, I shakily turn the key and kill the engine, then lean forward to rest my head of the steering wheel. "Oh, god...oh, fucking shit...I can't breathe...what the fuck..."

"Are we alive?" Max stammers, her knuckles white on the dashboard. "We're alive, right?"

"Y-yeah," I confirm weakly. I take a few more ragged breaths, trying to force my heart to stop thundering in my chest. "We're alive. Oh, fuck me..."

Deep breaths, in and out, slowly bringing myself back down. I feel almost back to normal when a banging on the window scares the living shit out of me and I let out a surprised yelp. We both turn to find a man who could only be the semi-trailer's driver staring back at us, pale-faced and shaking. I take another deep breath and roll down the window.

"Holy hell! Are you girls okay?"

"Y-yeah," I nod, shakily. "Yeah, we're okay."

"Oh, thank god," he sighs, his whole body sagging with relief. "You two scared the bejesus outta me! What the hell were you doing back there?!"

"We..." I hesitate. "We were arguing. I... I wasn't watching the road..."

The truck driver scowls at me. "Are you kidding me? You coulda been killed!"

"I know, I..." My face burns with shame and I can feel tears threatening to fall. "I'm so, so sorry."

He glares us both for another moment, then the anger slips from his face. "Hey, now. Everyone is safe; that's what's important. Seems the good lord was watchin' out for you."

I choke back the urge to comment on 'the lord's' supposed involvement and nod silently. Max does the same.

He glances back to where his truck is parked. "I guess we oughta trade insurance information."

I look down at the trio of ragged holes where my pickup's side mirror used to be, trying desperately to think of a way to explain that I don't actually have insurance. I doubt he'd understand that I'd been forced to choose between spending my precious little money on that or weed, and now that decision had come back to bite me.

Hello again, hindsight. So nice to feel your boot up my ass again.

"Between you and me, though?" The truck driver continues. "I wouldn't bother."

"I...what?"

He shrugs. "Look, I dunno what your deductible is, but mine is definitely more than it'll cost to fix that dent you left in my fender. Tryin' to claim it is just gonna drive up my premium, so I might as well fix it out of pocket and save myself the grief."

"Yeah?" I allow myself a cautious flicker of optimism.

"Yeah." He taps my door. "I'm happy to give you my info if you wanna make your own claim, but I'd bet you can find another mirror for this heap in a scrapyard. Probably cost you about twenty bucks, tops. Say another forty to get a mechanic to bolt it on. Easy peezy."

"Right. I'll...uh...do that."

He sighs again, absently adjusting his hat. "Are the two of you sure you're alright? You don't need me to call anyone?"

"I think we'll be fine," Max pipes up. "But thank you."

"Of course." He offers us a smile. "You girls drive safe now."

"Yeah." I nod. "You too, man."

Rolling the window up, I watch him walk back to his truck in the rearview mirror. It's not until he pulls back onto the road that I feel the tension start to bleed away. Tilting my head back to rest against the cool glass of the cab's rear window, I let out a shuddering breath.

I reach for my cigarettes without even thinking about it, half-surprised to find nothing but an empty pocket. Oh, that's right. I threw them away because I've got fucking lung cancer. Which is apparently going to kill me, assuming I don't just get hit by a truck first.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Why do I always do this? Why do I always lose my shit instead of taking a second to just think? Max comes back again from two years in the future to save my sorry ass (again!) and how do I thank her? By flying off the fucking handle just because she didn't want to hurt me.

"Chloe, I..." I feel Max's hand gently come to rest on my arm. "I'm sorry. You're right. I should have told you right away, but I was just so happy to see you again and I... I didn't want to..."

"What? No!" I snap my head up, gripping Max's hand like a lifeline. "I was angry, but that doesn't...I should've...Fuck, Max! I'm so stupid!"

"You're not stupid! You got upset and overreacted, but you're not stupid!"

"I almost got us both killed! God, I'm such a shitty friend. I was probably a shitty girlfriend, too. You deserve way better."

"No, you were amazing. No one else could...ever..." She trails off, her head dropping onto my shoulder. "We're doing that thing again."

It takes a second, but I let out an embarrassed groan as soon as I remember what she's talking about. "Oh, fuck. We are, aren't we?"

It was rare for Max and me to actually fight over something growing up, but when we did it always went the same way. We'd yell at each other until one of us went too far and said something really hurtful. Then, like a switch had been flipped, we'd start trying to make it all better by apologizing and going back and forth over which one of us was the worse friend and how the other deserved better. From there, it wouldn't be long before we were crying in each other's arms.

Of all the things we used to do as kids, it was probably one of the dumbest. I guess some things never change.

"I really am sorry," I murmur, tilting my head to rest on Max's and absently noting how nice her hair smells.

"Me too." Her voice is a little muffled by my shoulder. "Forgive me?"

"Yeah. Forgive me?"

"Of course."

Before, this would be the part where we changed the topic to literally anything else. It could be a movie we just saw, or a song we both heard, or even some stupid piece of school gossip. Anything was fair game, as long as it wasn't whatever we'd been fighting about. The thing is, I've got no idea what movies Max has seen lately. I don't even know what kind of movies she likes. I can almost guarantee we don't have the same taste in music anymore. We must have some things in common, especially if we end up dating in the future, but that's almost worse.

We might've spent the last five years separated, but at least we were still on even ground. Now she's got two more years of memories together (just sixteen months, cancer-girl!) and I'm still not sure how I'm supposed to deal with that. How long am I going to spend playing catch up? Where do I even start?

Actually, I know exactly where I need to start. "Max?"

"Yeah?"

"Rachel. You said...you said we found her, right? Not that the cops found her. We did."

"Yeah, we did."

"Where..." I try to swallow the lump rising in my throat. "Where is she?"

"I don..." She cuts herself off before she can lie to me. Good. As happy as I am to see her again and as sorry as I am for losing my temper, I don't know how well I would have reacted if she'd lied to me just now.

"Where is she, Max?" I ask again. "Tell me."

Pulling away, she slides back to look me in the eye. "No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"I mean, no. I'm not telling you."

"Max, please, I need t-"

"No." We're lucky that we're stopped or the force she puts behind that one word might've sent us into the oncoming lane all over again. "I'm not telling you. I'm never telling you, because if I do you'll go looking for her."

"Of course I would!" I don't understand why that's a bad thing. I can't just leave her out there.

"I won't let you do that, Chloe. Finding her was the worst moment of your life. I can't watch you go through that again." She has this almost desperate look in her eyes, like I'm standing on a cliff and she's trying to talk me back from the edge. "Please, just remember her the way you do right now. Beautiful and smiling and alive. She'd want you to remember her how she was. Not how..."

Not how she is. That's what Max was going to say. Against my will, my mind starts forming images. Terrifying images fueled by too many movies and the horrible knowledge that my long-lost angel has been rotting in the ground for half a year. A wave of nausea rolls over me and for a brief second, I think I might throw up.

"I'm sorry." She squeezes my hand, and I realize she never actually let it go. "I know it's not what you want to hear."

The way she's looking at me reminds me of when I was ten years old and she convinced me not to try jumping my bike over a parked car. Or when I was thirteen and she kept me from climbing down the lighthouse cliff to look for caves. Or twenty minutes ago when she told me I was done smoking.

She's trying to save me from myself, and I already know there's nothing I can do to change her mind.

Fuck.

"Just promise me that you'll tell someone?" I wish I didn't sound like I was begging. "I don't care who. I...I need to know that she won't just..."

"I will. I swear we won't abandon her. I'd never let that happen."

"O-okay." It's not the answer I wanted, but for now I tell myself that it's enough. I still have another question, though. I'm just not sure if I should ask it. Or whether I can handle the answer if I do. "Max, I...there's something I have to know."

"Chloe..."

"And I want...I need you to swear you'll tell me the truth."

"I might not tell you the answer." She lifts a hand before I can respond. "But I swear I won't lie to you if I do."

"Fine." That's probably the best I'm going to get. "When Rachel..." How badly do I want to know? "...was it..." How scared am I of the answer? "...did she...?"

I can't seem to force the question out, but Max guesses it anyway. "It didn't hurt, Chloe. She didn't suffer."

I can tell that it's not the whole truth, but it's enough to finally bring it all crashing down on me. I curl into myself, sobbing as Max wraps her arms around me. "W-why? Why?! I...I loved her!"

"I know," she murmurs softly. "I know you did."

"She didn't deserve...she was gonna get out of here...we were gonna go down to LA and...and..."

"Just let it out, baby," she whispers, pressing a gentle kiss on my head. "I'm right here."