Recursion Chapter 64: Six Seconds And Eleven Feet, a life is strange fanfic

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Jefferson was supposed to be long gone and Chloe was supposed to be here with me. She was going to keep me safe while the storm passed overhead.

Two years hasn't done anything to soften my memories of this place, and the heavy steel door in front of me is only the first of them. A part of me (a pretty big part, too) wants to turn back, but if there's anyone who can talk Mark Jefferson down and hopefully get him to let Victoria go, it's me.

I can't remember how many tries we needed to get past it the first time, going through number after number and rewinding as many times as it took. But even if my powers are acting up, I wouldn't need them for this. Like everything else about this godforsaken place, the door code is permanently seared into my brain.

5-4-2

The locks release with a dull thump that seems to echo in my ears. The door swings almost silently on well-oiled hinges as I gently pull it open...and the instant I do, I'm assaulted by the horrifyingly familiar notes of 'Crazy Like Me'.

I feel the bile rising in my throat as a rush of unwanted memories come rushing at me. The feel of the duct tape binding my wrists to the chair as I watch David die over and over. The sting of the needle in that last second before the world would freeze. Of all the songs that could have been playing. Of all the fucking songs!

Gripping the edge of the doorframe, I force myself to breathe evenly. This is a good thing. It means he won't hear me come in, and right now I need every advantage I can get. I force myself to take a step forward, and then another, tiptoeing lightly toward the plastic curtain that separates the two halves of the bunker.

The lights are all dark on this side, though, which is good for me. The shadows offer plenty of cover as I move nearer. The music isn't as loud as it is in my memories. At least, not enough to conceal the steady clicks of a camera's shutter. Peering around the curtain's edge, I see exactly what I was afraid to see. Victoria is kneeling on the ground, her hands bound behind her and a strip of tape over her mouth. That twisted bastard is looming over her, taking pictures.

He's trapped down here, probably doesn't know the police have left, and he's not freaking out. He's taking pictures.

I feel a wave of revulsion wash over me, my stomach rolling as my last meal threatens to come back up. Each click brings up another memory, another reminder of what happened here.

I peek around the edge again. I can see that gun of his. The gun that he used to shoot David over and over in this same room. The same fucking gun that ended Chloe's life at American Rust. It's tucked into his belt, right at the small of his back, and I briefly consider whether or not I'd be able to sneak up on him.

Maybe I don't need to talk to him at all. Maybe I can bash him over the head with a tripod like he did to David all those times (and me, once or twice) before he can get to it. One good swing would be enough to put him down, right? Ten good swings would probably be enough to splatter his brains all over the floor. How's that for art, you fucking psycho?

I shudder, drawing back into the shadows. I don't know what disturbs me more; what Jefferson did to me, or the wrathful, hate-filled person he turns me into. When all this is over, assuming I can think of a way out of this, I'll be happy to never think about him again. In the meantime, I wish I had a better idea than trying to talk to him. If I fuck this up, Victoria is done for.

Stepping out of the darkness, I slowly move forward, my hands held out and clearly empty. For a second, I can't help but stare at the folded spare tripod laying atop a large equipment chest. From there it's only four long steps and one good swing before all this could be over. It's definitely tempting, but then I glance back in his direction just in time to meet Victoria's eyes.

I'm sure she doesn't mean to do it. She's probably barely even aware of her reaction. She's scared, though, and the thin trickle of blood coming from her split eyebrow tells me she's already taken at least one hit. I can't blame her for the look of stunned relief that takes over her face the second she sees me.

Jefferson notices instantly, of course. He's so focused on Victoria that he couldn't possibly have missed her expression. He spins around a heartbeat later, his eyes meeting mine. He's startled; that much is obvious. But not so startled that he doesn't react instantly. Tossing his camera toward the couch, he seizes Victoria by the arm and hauls her to her feet. I can hear her scream, even through the duct tape, as her shoulder comes within a hair of being wrenched from its socket.

Wrapping his arm around her, he snatches one of those fucking syringes from the rolling cart next to him and jams it into her neck. She lets out another muffled cry, but he doesn't empty it. Not yet.

"Stay back, Max!" he snarls, and I freeze in place. "How did you get in here?!"

"The door," I answer, stupidly. My mind feels completely stalled. All I can think about is the needle clutched in his hand. "Please, don't hurt her."

"Where did you get the code?!" His eyes dart between me and the curtain. "Answer me!"

"Please let Victoria go, Mr. Jefferson," I plead, ignoring the question. Victoria is staring at me, her eyes wide and frightened, tears streaming down her cheeks, silently begging me to save her. "Just let her walk out of here."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because I'll stay behind in her place."

Some of the anger clears from his face, his eyes raking over me slowly as he seems to consider it. I feel like I'm going to be sick. I want to take back the offer, but I don't. Every second he spends making me feel disgustingly exposed is a second Victoria stays safe.

"Would you, now?" he rumbles, finally.

"Yes."

"That's tempting, Maxine," he admits with a smile that makes me want to knock his teeth in. "Very tempting."

"But you have to let her go first. One for one."

It was going to work. I could see his grip on Victoria loosening, but before he can release her, we both hear something move outside. I don't know what it is, maybe just a racoon, but it doesn't matter. Jefferson's eyes turn hard, his arm tightening again.

"Oh, Max." Jefferson says, with just a hint of reproach, the same way he might if I hadn't turned in my homework. "It didn't have to come to this."

"Please don't!"

"All you had to do was turn in a fucking photo."

"No!"

He presses the plunger down before I can say anything more, dumping the syringe's contents into Victoria's blood. There's the briefest spark of panic in her eyes before they turn dull, then she goes limp in his arms as though he'd just switched her off. He looks mostly apathetic toward her now, like she's a thing he found briefly interesting, that's since lost its novelty. With a tiny huff of annoyance, he drops her.

What happens next isn't bold or dramatic. There are no cries of despair or screamed threats. I watch my friend's body crumple bonelessly to the floor, and I just...react.

People who think about time travel tend to paint it in grand and abstract concepts - things like fate, chaos, and destiny. But as the world's only time traveler (as far as I know), I'm not driven by the abstract at all. When making a decision in the moment I don't care about the future, or the past, or whether any higher powers (some of whom I'm back to cursing out) are judging me for my actions.

It's like that day in the girl's bathroom when I saw a friend I didn't yet recognize get gunned down and reached out to help, or when I looked up to see Kate standing on the roof's edge and knew I was the only one who could get to her in time. It's an instinct. To think in the immediate. To act in the immediate.

And right now, the immediate is the six seconds and eleven feet that stand between me and Victoria's life.

Reaching out, I plunge my hand into the ebb and flow of time, grab hold for all I'm worth, and feel like I'm going to die from the shock of it. It's excruciating, like holding on to electrified razor wire and feeling it ripping through my palm. The universe slams to a halt around me, holds there for a second, then begins to crawl backwards. There's no technique here. No precision or elegance. Only strength and flat-out willpower. Forget holding on to a steady point. I'm moving against the current now, pushing myself forward one agonizingly slow step at a time.

The indescribable thing that lets me do what I do feels unstable. Like some old machine being compelled into action, every moving part rusted and grinding. Everything is forced as it groans its way through each motion. And even if it seems to be working, there's still the undeniable understanding that every second it's made to run brings it another second closer to breaking down once and for all.

I don't need this to work smoothly, though, or even quickly; I need this to work now. That means that all I can do is fight through the pain and hope I can still take my next step forward.

There's still ten feet to go when a pressure worse than anything I've ever felt starts building behind my eyes. A memory bubbles up in my mind and takes me back to when I was fourteen years old and suffering from a head cold, but even that throbbing pain pales in comparison to what's happening to me now.

I'm just past nine feet now and arguing with my own brain. It keeps telling me that I'm on fire, and I keep pointing out that I'm actually not. Then it starts telling me that it's too big to fit inside my skull, which I'm finding a lot tougher to argue with. I try to ignore it, focusing on Victoria as her body rises up from the ground.

I'm close to seven feet. It's never been this slow, not even in the beginning. Rewinding might have been bumpy back then, but at least it was fast; it only took a few relative seconds to buy back a minute. Everything around me is moving backward, but at a maddeningly slow pace. I feel like I'm wading through cement. It's getting hard to breathe and a deep ache is settling into my muscles. I force myself to keep moving forward.

Five feet. Very slowly, the plunger rises again underneath Jefferson's thumb, the clear liquid being pulled back into the syringe. Little by little, Victoria's whole body seems to come back to life as the drugs are drawn out of her. The light comes back into her eyes, sharper and more focused than it'd looked from across the room, her gaze fixed on the spot where I'd been when she'd last seen me.

Hold on, Victoria. I'm almost there.

Four feet. Like Victoria, Jefferson's eyes are still fixed on where I'd been rather than where I am. He has no way of seeing me in the rewind, but for a second I wish he could. I'd love to see the look on his face when he saw me closing in, right when he realizes that it's physically impossible for him to escape.

Three feet left and there's no time for complexity. I can feel the machinery coming apart and I already know that this is my last rewind. Once I drop back into the world, that'll be it. I won't be able to try again. I'm not going to get another chance, so I absolutely need to make this one count.

Two feet. Two goals. Two targets. The needle in Victoria's neck, and the throat of the man that holds it. Use one hand to knock the syringe away and hope I'm fast enough to keep him from emptying it first. Send the other fist right into his windpipe with all the strength I've got left and hope I manage to break something important.

A little more than a foot now, and it's time to make my move. As slowly as everything seemed to be moving, letting go of the rewind feels like slamming on the brakes at a hundred miles per hour. The whole world lurches, and I use that motion to slap Jefferson's hand away from Victoria's neck. The hit sends the syringe clattering across the concrete floor and under his pretentious-as-fuck couch.

My eyes are fixed on his throat when I take my second shot, and I almost make it. But he reacts quickly, just like any snake, ducking his head enough that I hit his chin, instead. The angle is all wrong and my fist just skips off. Unbalanced and overextended, I don't have a chance to throw up a defense before his return punch connects and the entire side of my face explodes in pain. Reeling back, I stagger for a few steps before tripping over my own feet and suddenly I'm on my back, fighting to catch my breath and trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

He's glaring down at me, his right hand still curled in a fist and pure hatred burning in his eyes. He moves deliberately, stepping backward and dragging Victoria along for the ride. Reaching around, he draws that fucking gun of his and levels it on me with an almost maniacal glint in his eye. He starts to squeeze the trigger, and I think that this is it. This is what it's all come to. Standing on the wrong end of Mark Jefferson's gun.

He's so focused on killing me, and I'm so focused on being killed, that we're both taken by surprise when Victoria suddenly and violently whips her head backward. Her skull smashes into his face with a nauseating crunch and Jefferson howls in pain, blood pouring from his flattened nose and staining his formerly pristine white shirt. The gun in his hand goes off, thunderously loud in the small space, but the shot goes wild and buries itself harmlessly into the far wall.

It's the second time I've seen Mark Jefferson with a ruined face, and I don't think it'll ever get old.

"Fucking bitch!" he shouts, shoving Victoria away with the same careless hatred someone would put into slamming a door. She takes a few erratic steps, trips over a loose wire, and begins to stumble forward. She's going to fall, but she's moving more or less in my direction, and I'd be able to catch her when she does, but I'm not even back on my feet before Jefferson aims at me again.

I'm a little surprised by how little fear I feel. Maybe I'm just too tired for it to fully register. My lungs are burning like I just ran up a mountain and my legs feel like they're made of jelly. If nothing else, I'm grateful to Victoria for letting me see this bastard bleed one last time before the end.

Glaring at Jefferson over the pistol's sights, I can see the exact second he notices the fourth person in the room.

Everything seems to drop into slow motion again, but this time it's got nothing to do with time travel. Jefferson responds instantly, shifting his aim to the right. I can still see Victoria falling from the corner of my eye as I turn my head, tracking the gun's seemingly sluggish movement until I spot his new target.

Oh, no.

Oh, god no.

I told her not to follow me inside. I wanted her to be safe, but now Chloe is sprinting at Jefferson, a bare axe handle raised in her hands and murder in her eyes. She could've dropped him with one good swing if he hadn't noticed her so quickly, but she's too far away now. She'll never reach him before he can finish bringing his gun around.

Just behind me, I hear Victoria's muted scream through the duct tape that covers her mouth. She's moving fast, falling headfirst toward the edge of Jefferson's glass and steel desk, helpless to stop herself with her hands still bound behind her back. It doesn't take a lot of imagination to picture what hitting it would do to her skull. All I have to do to save Victoria is catch her. All I have to do to catch her is let Chloe die.

No rewinds. No second chances. No time.

I have to try and save Chloe. That's what all of this has been about...but she's so far away.

Victoria is right there. Catching her would be easy, but I can't take my eyes off Chloe.

The girl I can save, and the girl I can't let go. It's an impossible choice. That's why I'm still standing there when time runs out and the universe makes the decision for me.

Jefferson fires again, the shot so deafening that it easily drowns out my scream, and this time there's nothing to ruin his aim. The bullet strikes Chloe just above the nose and her head snaps backward, knocking her beanie off and sending the top of her skull along with it.

At the same time, something hits the side of the desk with a loud thump and a sickening crack.

Chloe is still in motion, blood pouring over her slack features as her momentum carries her forward. The love of my life crumples to the ground in front of me, the remains of the most beautiful face I've ever seen hitting the concrete floor with a wet smack.

There's only silence behind me, and I look back to find the girl who'd once become one of my closest friends - and maybe could've been again - laying motionless on the floor, eyes wide with terror, her neck bent unnaturally to one side.

"No, no, no, no..." I keep whispering it, like it might change what just happened. In a panic, I thrust my right hand out in a desperate attempt to rewind, but it's useless.

I'm useless.

I just got two of the people I love killed, and I'm standing here slack-jawed and grasping at empty air.

Some fucking hero.

I halfway expect some disgusting gloating monologue from Jefferson, but by the time I look back, he's got the gun pointed at me again. And by my count, I'm fresh out of people to die in my place. He doesn't fire right away, though. Maybe he's wondering if I'll have some profound last words, or maybe he wants to hear me beg for my life. Either way, he's going to be disappointed.

"Just do it," I murmur. So he does. I shut my eyes as the gun roars one last time.

I feel a sharp stabbing sensation in my chest and then...nothing. No pain, or cold, or burning, or anything else. I'm frozen in place, motionless and numb. Then I open my eyes and discover a world drained of color. I'm still in the Dark Room. Chloe and Victoria are still dead. Jefferson is still standing there, a bright flash erupting from the gun in his hand. But all of them, and everything else I can see, has been rendered into distorted shades of grey.

And I'm still alive.

Alive and thanking every deity I can think of (even the ones I've cursed out a few times lately) that this particular faucet of my powers remains intact. My failsafe. My whatever-the-hell-it-is that freezes the world instead of letting me get killed.

It doesn't feel like a rewind, exactly. It's more like some unknowable force just paused the universe to say 'hey, dude...you almost died!' and now it's just giving me a second before chucking me right back into things. It was never as powerful as a rewind, either. It never gave me more than a minute.

But I don't care. Whatever it is, I'll fucking take it.

Responding to the freeze in a way I've never really been able to put into words, I feel myself being thrown backwards. In a flash, everything is moving again. The gun is swinging toward Chloe, Victoria is falling toward the desk, and I'm right back where I was, trapped in-between. I've only gone back a handful of seconds, but this time I'm ready. This time, I've made my decision.

I'm sorry, Victoria.

Summoning up all the strength I have left, I lunge toward Jefferson, knowing I'll never make it. But that doesn't matter because I don't need to make it. I just need to get a little closer so that when he shoots me (which he's about to do) and the failsafe triggers again (which I really, really hope it does), I won't have as much distance to cover on my next try. He isn't far; a little over ten feet, I think. Depending on how fast I move and how quick he is with that gun, I can probably make it to him in three loops.

He is quick, too. I've barely even moved before his gun stops halfway to Chloe and swings back to me. I still make good progress, though. Almost two full steps before his gun goes off. It's loud enough that I almost don't hear the thump-crack behind me. I'm actually relieved when the bullet sends me back into the grey blur.

I take a second to collect myself, then it's time for round two. I feel that same push and get ready to earn a little more distance, but when the room comes back into focus Jefferson is further away. Almost two full steps away. I'm back where I was. Exactly where I was, standing right where I'd been the first time the failsafe protected me. The gun is still turning toward Chloe and Victoria is still falling toward the desk and I haven't gained so much as an inch.

I rush at Jefferson again, hoping it was a fluke. I'm a little later off the start this time, which means Jefferson needs a little longer to bring his gun back around, which means I have a whole extra half-second to listen to Victoria's neck snap before he fires and it's back into the grey. I let it carry me back in time, opening my eyes to find myself once again right back where I started.

I rush at Jefferson again. Victoria breaks her neck again. He shoots me again. I go back to square one.

I rush Jefferson one more time, just to be stubborn. Victoria dies, just like all the other times. I still take a bullet, and I'm forced to admit the truth. This isn't a rewind. It's a reset. I'll only ever be able to get back a few seconds, and never be any closer to him.

Alright, universe. That's how you wanna play? Let's fucking play.

Reset.

Yell for Chloe to get down, then dive for Victoria. Took too long to yell a warning. Victoria dies, then Chloe dies anyway. Then Jefferson shoots me.

Reset.

Yell for Chloe to get down while I dive for Victoria. Save Victoria. Confused by my mid-air yelling, Chloe turns to look. Bullet to the chest. I get up to help her. I think I take a bullet to the head. It feels really weird. Victoria probably would've died right after.

Reset.

Dive for Chloe. Victoria dies. Knock Chloe over too late. Jefferson shoots us both.

Reset.

Dive for Chloe. Knock her behind the couch. Victoria dies. Jefferson shoots me in the leg. Chloe gets up to attack him. He shoots her. Then he shoots me again. Prick.

Reset.

Run between Chloe and Jefferson. Victoria dies. I feel the bullet meant for Chloe go right through my heart, then nothing. I don't even make it to the ground.

Reset.

Run between Chloe and Jefferson. Twist so the bullet doesn't hit my heart. Bullet hits my sternum. I feel it shatter. It's more painful than I ever could've imagined. Surprised, Jefferson hesitates. Chloe smashes him across the face with the axe handle. He drops to the floor and doesn't move. I bleed out in Chloe's arms.

Reset.

Kick backward to try knocking Victoria away from the desk. End up throwing myself off-balance and fall forward. I don't know whether Victoria dies, but I smash my face into an aluminum box and feel my jaw break. My ears are already ringing when I hear the shot that probably kills Chloe. Then I hear another shot, sorta.

Reset.

Try kicking backward harder. Rush toward Chloe. Get close enough to see the flakes of green in the blue of her eyes before the bullet obliterates one of them. Crash into her collapsing body. Fall. Look back to see Victoria dead, her neck and nose both broken. I didn't save her. I just kicked her in the face before she died. Look up. Gun. Bang.

Reset.

Scream at the top of my lungs. Startle Jefferson. Victoria dies. He turns and puts two bullets in my stomach. I fall to the ground, blood already soaking my shirt. Chloe swings the axe handle into his throat, and I feel a glimmer of hope. Choking, he still gets a shot off, right through her chest. Chloe collapses, her lungs filling with blood. Jefferson falls, too, his windpipe crushed. Victoria lies next to me, silent and still.

All four of us die alone in the Dark Room.

I'm the last one to go.

Reset.