Oct 11, 2013 - [12:58 am]
Prescott Barn
Southeast of Arcadia Bay, Oregon

I should be dead.

The gun went off. I heard it go off. I saw it go off. He had it aimed right at my head when he pulled the trigger. I shouldn't even be alive and thinking about this...but I am. I'm alive, and Jeffershit just vanished right in front of me. The axe handle I found upstairs had sailed harmlessly through the air where his head had been, like he'd never been there at all.

Nervous, I keep it raised and ready to swing while I turn in a slow circle, as if he's waiting to leap out at me from somewhere. But he can't be. There's nowhere for him to hide. The whole room is lit up by those photography lamps of his. Unless he's squeezed into the three-inch space between the couch and the floor, he's not here.

Cautiously lowering my makeshift weapon, I take a step backward and feel something crunch under my boot. It's the asshole's glasses, badly mangled and spattered with what looks a hell of a lot like blood. "What the...?"

"C-Chloe?"

Spinning around, I find Max gazing at me the same way she had in my bedroom on Wednesday morning – like she can't believe I'm alive. A few steps behind her Victoria looks just as stunned. I drop the handle and it clatters to the floor. "Hey, Maximus. You okay?"

She glances nervously around the room. "Where did he go?"

"You don't know?"

She shakes her head silently.

Well...fuck. If I wasn't weirded out before, I sure as hell am now. "He vanished. Like, right into thin air. I figured you'd done something."

"I didn't," she says, her voice rough. She takes another slow step forward, like I'll vanish too if she makes any sudden moves. "I...I couldn't. He shot you."

"Nope." I try for a smile, but if it looks as half as fake as it feels then I'm not fooling anyone. "Looks like I managed to avoid getting shot all on my own this time."

"No," Max says again, shaking her head. "He shot you. I saw him shoot you."

"I don't know what to tell you. I guess he missed?" He didn't miss, though. I was looking right down the barrel when he pulled the trigger. He couldn't have missed. "Guess it's my lucky day."

"Lucky? Lucky?!" Her eyes darken and she closes the rest of the distance in a couple of steps. "I told you to stay outside! What the hell were you thinking?!"

I can't help but feel a flare of indignance. "Well, fuck me for thinking you might need some help!"

"I didn't need your help!" Tears start welling up in her eyes. "I needed you to be safe!"

"I heard gunshots, Max! When I came in here, he had you at fucking gunpoint!"

"I had things under control!"

"Under control?! What the fuck are you talking ab-"

"He killed you!" she screams, cutting me off. "He killed you right in front of me! You died again and again and again and I couldn't save you!"

It takes me a second to catch on. I guess he didn't miss, after all. Just like every other time Max has told me about a death I narrowly avoided, I feel my stomach lurch a little. No one should be this aware of their own mortality.

"Shit," I pull her into my arms and she starts crying into my shoulder. "It's okay, Max. I'm okay. I'm right here."

"I...I'm s-sorry...," she stammers out between sobs. "I'm s-so sorry... I...I gave up! I tried and I tried but I couldn't save you!"

"You did save me, Max. You must have, because I'm right here. I'm right here, okay?" The idea seems to get through to her, and I keep repeating it as her sobbing tapers off. After a minute, she pulls away to look at me. Her cheeks are still wet, and her eyes are all puffy, but there's the tiniest hint of a smile on her face. "Hey, there, cutie."

"H-hey,"

"Feeling bett-"

"I love you, Chloe," she says, gently interrupting me. "I promised I'd tell you when I saw you again, and I love you."

It's not a surprise. Even if she's never said it outright, it's been pretty obvious how she felt. But actually hearing the words out loud is like a bolt of lightning right to the heart. "I..."

"And you don't have to say it back...no, you really don't. Not if you aren't ready. There's no rush. I don't mind if we're on different pages, as long as we're still reading the same book." She hesitates. "We...are, right?"

I nod fervently because we definitely are.

"T-that's good."

"Hella good," I whisper, still holding her hand.

"Hella good," she echoes, then hiccups a little. Despite everything, it's fucking adorable. "You're really okay?"

"I'm really okay, Max." She looks a lot better now, but her cheeks are still a little wet. I must have a tissue or something. I start digging around in my pockets, but all I find is a small, sealed envelope I've never seen before. It feels like there's something about the size of a jellybean inside it and when I flip it over, I see Max's name messily scrawled on the front. "The hell...?"

"What?"

"This was in my pocket." I hold it up for her to see. "Yours?"

Confused, she wipes her nose on her sleeve and takes it from me. She inspects it carefully, turning it over a few times before tearing it open. Tilting it over her palm, the first thing to fall out is a single bullet. It's already been fired, and even though I'm no gun expert (you'd have to talk to step-douche for that) I'm pretty sure it's the kind of bullet that would've gone in Jefferson's gun.

"Is that...?" I whisper, a million questions whirling around in my head.

"I don't know," she admits, looking about as unnerved as I feel, then pulls out a small card. It's actually pretty cool looking; matte black except for a shining silver and blue butterfly embossed on the front. Brow furrowed, she opens it, reads whatever's inside, then lets out a choked gasp and drops it like it's on fire.

Curious, I kneel to pick the card up, opening it to read.

Dearest Max,

The blue-haired idiot lives. You got your bestie back.

Here's your precious happy ending, you arrogant bitch.

Don't fuck it up.

- You Know Who

"Who's 'You-Know-Who'?" I look up when Max doesn't respond; she's gone white as a sheet. "Max? What is it?"

She staring at me like I'm the scariest thing she's ever seen...except she's not staring at me. She's staring at the back of the card, and I flip it over to find another message.

P.S. – Don't worry about him. He's with me. ;)

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"R-red light," Max stammers, her eyes fixed on the card.

"Is this about Jeffer-"

"Red light."

"C'mon, Max..."

"I'm sorry, Chloe." She shakes her head. "Red light forever."

I want to argue (I mean, forever? What kind of bullshit is that?) but there's something in her eyes that stops me. I suddenly get the impression that of all the frightening, bizarre, or just plain tragic things that she's been keeping from me, this might just be the one I really don't want to know about. "...okay, Max. If you say so."

"I'm sorry," she repeats, swaying a little on her feet. "I just..."

"No, it's fine." Stuffing the card back in my pocket, I gently take her by the arm and guide her around the couch. "Hey, what do you say you lay down for a minute?"

"I...uh...yeah. Yeah, I think that'd be good." She looks so tired as she practically collapses onto the couch.

"You're gonna stay right here, okay?"

"Kay," she murmurs, rubbing her eyes as she lays back. "Just for a minute, though."

"Just for a minute," I echo. Sitting back on my heels, I'm trying not to worry about her when a sudden (and fucking loud) noise just about scares the crap out of us both.

"Mmmmmmm!"

"What the..." Leaping to my feet, I immediately see Victoria sitting on the floor across the room, leaning against a metal cabinet, still tied up and glaring at me. "Oh, crap!"

"What is it?!" Max starts to sit upright.

"Nothing!" I gently push her back down, and she doesn't offer much resistance. "Everything's fine. You stay here and I'll be right back."

She barely has a chance to nod before I run around the couch, grabbing a pair of scissors off the desk on my way. "Fuck! Sorry!"

Kneeling down beside Victoria, I realize she's not actually glaring at me. She actually looks freaked as fuck, not that I can blame her. This whole fucking thing would rattle anyone. I'm pretty sure that as soon as the adrenaline wears off I'm gonna fucking lose it, so why should she be any different?

"Seriously, I'm really sorry. We were...and then...forget it. Sorry. This is probably gonna suck," I add, pinching the corner of the tape over her mouth, I silently count to three and rip it off in one quick motion. I cringe, expecting her to curse me out or something, but she doesn't. She just sits there, still looking freaked as fuck, staring at me like I'm a fucking ghost. "Vic? You still in there?"

"Holy fuck," she finally whispers. "You're here."

"Course I am," I say, taking her shoulder and leaning her forward. Reaching behind her with the scissors, I clip the cable ties holding her hands behind her. "Didn't I say I'd have your back?"

Gingerly rubbing her wrists, she leans back and keeps on staring at me. "But...you're alive."

"No shit, Sherlock." I lean back, a little nervously. The last time I heard those words in that tone, I ended up getting kissed. "Just a heads up, if you don't keep those lips to yourself, this tape is going right back where I found it."

She blinks. "...what?"

"You heard me."

"Why the hell would I-agh!" She flinches halfway through shaking her head. "What the shit-fucking fuck?!"

That startles me; Victoria's no stranger to cursing, but that was a little more intense than I've heard from her before. "What's wrong?"

"The side of my neck hurts! What the hell?!"

"Okay, hold still. Lemme take a look." Leaning in, I quickly spot the angry red mark on the side of her throat. Well, that fucking figures. That bastard really does (did?) love his needles. But the real problem is right in the center, where I spot a tiny glimmer of something metallic. "Motherfucker."

"What?!"

"I think there's a broken needle in your neck." I grab her wrist when she tries reaching for it. "Don't do that."

"I want it the fuck out!" She snaps, trying to get up. I never thought I'd be so grateful for Frank Bowers and his fucked-up junkie stories, or I'd have no idea how serious this was. Grabbing Victoria by the shoulders, I slam her against the cabinet.

"Do. Not. Move."

She stares back at me, wide-eyed and speechless, but does what she's told.

"I can still see the end of the needle, but if you keep moving around you could push it deeper. That'd be really fucking bad." I look down at her neck. "Right now, you need to hold still so I can pull it out, okay?"

"K-kay," she says, shakily.

"Alright. Stay here. I gotta go find some tweezers or something."

"Handbag."

"Huh?"

"Over there," she says, her voice tight as she points to a purse tossed haphazardly in the corner. "Side pocket."

Retrieving it, I root around inside and find one of those little keychain size swiss army knives: the ones with the mini tweezers that come out of the end. Fucking perfect.

"Okay, we're gonna do this nice and steady," I murmur. Trying to act like I know what I'm doing, I rest my wrist on her shoulder and very slowly move the tweezers in to pinch the broken needle end. Taking a deep breath, I begin to pull gently; Victoria hisses as an inch of thin, slightly bent steel slides out of her neck. Once it's clear, I flick it under the asshole's desk.

"You're all set," I say, putting the tweezers back and dropping the small pocketknife in her lap. "Way to be prepared and shit."

She sags back against the cabinet with a sigh, gingerly rubbing the small wound and staring at me like...I don't even know. I've never seen anyone look like that who wasn't tripping. It's the look a person gets when they're looking at something they aren't quite sure is real.

Except I'm pretty sure I am real, so what the fuck?

"Am I dead?" she asks, suddenly.

"...are you what?"

"Am I dead?" she repeats, swallowing heavily.

Sitting back on my heels, I try to look chill. "Nope. We officially saved your ass. You're welcome."

"No, that's impossible," she argues, for some fucking reason. "You couldn't have. Could you?"

I'm not sure if I should be insulted or concerned about that. Did she hit her head on something? I don't see any bumps, but we're definitely rolling up on concussion-level crazy talk. This is exactly how Justin sounded that time he bailed off his board and went headfirst into a tree. Poor guy was talking even more nonsense than usual.

Sitting down on the floor next to her, I lean against the cabinet. "Hey...you feeling okay?"

"I...I think I..." Confused, she looks down again and I spot a small patch of blood standing out against her blonde hair. Fuck, I hate being right sometimes.

"Aw, shit," I mutter. "Looks you cranked your head on something."

"What?" She reaches up to gingerly prod at the back of her head, hissing when she reaches the spot and bringing her hand around to peer at the blood on her fingertips. "Oh. Yeah. I don't think the blood is mine, though."

"Who the hell else's would it be?"

She doesn't answer right away, her eye twitching a little as her hand slowly tightens into a fist. "...his."

Jesus fucking Christ. I thought Max had filled that psycho's name with hatred, but the way Victoria spits that one word is fucking unreal. If there were any paint on the walls down here, I'm pretty sure it'd be peeling. "How the hell did you get the freak's blood in your hair?"

"By headbutting him," she answers, some of her usual fire returning to her eyes. "Pretty sure I broke his nose, too."

"Seriously?" Victoria Chase broke the Jeffershit's nose...with a headbutt? That'd definitely explain why his face had looked so messed up when I came in. "That's fucking badass."

"I guess." Her eyes slowly scan the room. "What happened to him? I...I thought I saw..." She hesitates. "Am I insane, or did he just...disappear?"

"You saw that, too?" I'm surprised at how relieved I am. "Yeah, he did. Vanished into thin air."

"How...?"

"I think Max knows. She's not talking, but..."

"But what?"

"I dunno. It was just something about the way she reacted." I look over at the couch. "Wherever he went, I don't think it's good, and I don't think he's coming back."

"Good," Victoria murmurs, following my gaze. "Is she doing alright?"

"I think so."

"She looked upset."

"Yeah," I draw the word out, awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck. "She's kinda pissed at me. Turns out my heroic rescue attempt didn't work out too well for me the first time. Or the second time. Or a bunch of times after that."

"Shit. How many?" she asks, hesitantly.

"I dunno. A lot, I think."

"Oh, Max," Victoria actually sounds concerned. Like, legit concerned, which is a fucking weird thing to hear coming from the Bitch Queen of Blackwell. "Is she asleep?"

"Maybe. That, or she's eavesdropping on us." I raise my voice at the end, waiting. A second later, Max peeks cautiously over the back of the couch. "Thought so."

"Sorry," she says, standing up and moving around to our side of the couch. "I was just..."

"Being a great big snoop?" I finish.

"...yeah."

Climbing to my feet, I walk over to wrap her up in a hug. "How're you feeling?"

"Better now," she murmurs, happily snuggling into my shoulder. "You always make things better."

Before I can respond, I hear Victoria mutter something that sounds a hell of a lot like 'thirsty bitch'. But when I turn around to tell her to fuck off, I'm a little startled to find her smiling at us. Actually smiling, like she would if we were friends, instead of sneering, like she would if there was any sanity left in the world.

"Okay, what the hell is up with you?"

"Good question." Absently rubbing her neck, Victoria gives Max a weird look. "So, Max...pretty crazy running into you like this."

Concerned, Max pulls away from me. "Victoria? Are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm good." She shakes her head, laughing. "I'm actually fucking great."

"You're not hurt?"

"I'm fine." Standing, she pushes off the cabinet. "But there's something I need to tell you." She takes a step closer, an earnest expression on her face. "Something really important. Something I never thought I'd have the chance to say to you."

Max glances back at me, a little nervously. "Okay?"

"The thing is, Max..." Victoria leans in a little, lowering her voice. "...I let you win."

Max blinks, confused, then cocks her head to the side. "You let me win what?"

"Our last checkers game. I let you win."

That doesn't mean a thing to me, but it sure as hell must mean something to Max. Never in my entire life have I seen a person short-circuit so badly. Her jaw drops like a rock and her eyes might as well be flashing an error message. "W-w-what...?"

Victoria crosses her arms, smirking. "You heard me."

"B-but you can't...that's not...I don't...how could...why are...when did..." She stops for a second, brow furrowed, then settles on, "How?"

"I've got absolutely no fucking idea."

"Oh my god," Max murmurs, moving closer. "This can't be real."

"Feels pretty real to me."

It happens so fast, I'm pretty sure that I'd have missed it by blinking. One second the two of them are just standing there gawking at each other; the next they're hugging and jumping around and laughing like that whole checkers thing is just the greatest fucking news ever.

"You're here!" Max shouts happily. "You're alive and you're here!"

"I know!" Victoria crows. "I'm not fucking gone! Fuck you, universe! I'm still here!"

Okay, what the hell is going on? I know shit got pretty intense for a minute there, but this seems like a bit much. I mean, one little life or death situation and suddenly Max and Victoria are acting like they're best...

...friends.

Holy shit.

No, it can't be, right?

Can it?

Holy shit.

"She..." The word comes out as a faint rasp, my mouth and throat suddenly bone-dry. Swallowing, I try again. "She's..."

"Chloe?" Max turns my way.

I point at Victoria, my hand shaking a little. "Is...is she...?"

It takes a second for Max to realize what I'm trying to ask, and I doubt anyone else but her could have. Glancing briefly at Victoria, she gives me a slow nod and I feel the world tilt on its side a little bit. Even after these last few days, this is some next-level shit.

"She's..." I finally turn to Victoria. "You're Future Vic."

"Future Vic?" She blinks, then lets out a soft laugh. "Yeah, I guess I am."

I don't even know what I'm supposed to say to that, and I barely notice Max sidle up next to me until she takes my hand. "Come on. Let's go get some fresh air."

"Yeah," I nod. "Yeah, that'd probably be good."

With that, I follow my time-travelling sorta-girlfriend and her best friend from the future out of the vanishing serial killer's secret bunker, because apparently my entire life has gone batshit insane.