"Christ, Chloe. You okay? You're like a million miles away."
"What?" Chloe asked, her mind collapsing back into the present. Frank stared at her, the concern clear on his face. "Sorry, dude. Hella long night. Didn't get any sleep."
"Everything cool?" He asked. He took a sip of his beer, though his eyes never left the punk.
Yep. Everything's cool. Fucking fantastic.
"Yeah, just one of those nights," she said. She dipped a hand into her pocket and took out her phone, hastily swiping her finger to get to her chat log with Max.
Chloe: i know im being annoying, but just checking in again
Chloe: let me know youre okay
Chloe: i love you so so so much and ill be over after work
Dammit, Max. I hate that you made me promise to go to work. I could be with you right now! You NEED me right now! ...I need you right now...
"Everything okay with you and Max?" Frank asked as he glanced at the phone. "No trouble in paradise, right?"
"We're fine," Chloe responded, perhaps a bit more brusquely than she had meant. She sighed when he shot her a wounded look. "Sorry," she said. "I'm just a little tense. Porcupine mode, you know?" That managed to make him crack a smile.
"Shit, are you telling me you can turn that off? News to me."
"No," she shot back with a smile of her own. "It's really more about how long my quills are at any given time." He chuckled and nodded.
That's it. Joke. Smile. Laugh. Pretend that everything's okay. I guess if there's one thing I'm good at...
Frank began to talk again but his voice immediately faded into mush. Her mind raced back to the day before, reliving the moment of finding Max passed out on the floor and bleeding. She could only imagine herself opening the door over and over, the sight of her lover striking the same, stagnant pain into her heart every time. Her hand bound into a fist, the pain of her nails piercing her flesh snapping her back to reality.
"Excuse me," she said as she jolted to her feet. "Need to splash some water on my face. Gotta wake myself up! Can't be falling asleep on the job." In a few quick steps she was in the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. She was confronted with scratched out and painted over graffiti. They were crude and vulgar before, but now that the truth had come out, they were viewed in immensely poor taste. They had been there for so long, but now she actually focused on them. They seemed audible, as if she could hear the slanderous words against Rachel and Kate. She approached the sink and bowed her head. Her hands like vices, they gripped the edges of the sink as she stared down into the drain. She began to tremble.
Why aren't we allowed to be happy? What did we do to deserve this?
Flustered, she flipped on the faucet and began to wash her hands. She thought about the night before - how she had to sneak into the bathroom in Max's dorm and scour her hands clean of the girl's blood. Her teeth ground together as she continued to scrub, the skin on her knuckles becoming pink with rawness. She could see the blood on her hands, her mind leaping back into the previous night. She scrubbed and scrubbed, yet it didn't seem to come off. Finally, she sobbed, pulling her hands out of the steaming, burning water.
No. NO. Fuck this. The fucking storm isn't going to win. I deserve...Max deserves to be happy. We both do. But that fucking old lady...
Her head snapped in alert. Her eyes pierced through her reflection, aflame with conviction and anger.
The homeless lady...
She turned the water off and opened the door, storming past Frank to the other end of the counter where the flap allowing entrance was. She ducked into the kitchen and ripped her jacket from the hook on the wall.
"Taking a quick break. Everyone's eating," she said to the cook as she pulled on her coat. She was already outside when he grunted his acceptance. The harsh cold gripped her immediately, causing her to shiver. She stared at the brick wall in front of her as she placed a cigarette between her lips. Her fingers twitched with anticipation and a seething hatred. As she brought the lighter to the tip of the cigarette, she heard her.
"Well, hey Chloe," the homeless woman greeted emphatically. The punk could see a hand waving in her periphery. She didn't look right away, instead focusing on the flame struggling to survive in the cold weather. Once the cigarette was lit, she took two small puffs, bringing it to a stable burn. Her muscles tensed in her shoulders and neck as she turned to acknowledge the woman.
"Hey," Chloe said, the word leaking out spitefully.
This is your fault.
"I'm afraid the weather's getting to be a bit too cold for me to be lounging around the Two Whales," the woman said with a smile. "I might have to vacate to my winter residence!" She chuckled, but it slowed to a stop when she saw Chloe's eyes. "What's wrong, dear? You don't look happy at all."
"I need to ask you something," the blue haired girl announced. She reached a hand out to the woman, revealing an unlit cigarette and her lighter in her palm. Graciously, the woman took them. "I want to talk to you about Max." The woman took a drag of the cigarette, a small sensation of relief visible on her face as the nicotine ran through her blood. She nodded slowly.
"Ah, yes, Max..." She said it knowingly. She took another quick drag, and stared up at Chloe, her gaze cold as steel. Suddenly, she bared her yellow teeth and shrugged as if embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she said. "Who is Max?" Chloe's eyes widened.
Who the fuck does she think she's fooling?
"Max," Chloe repeated impatiently. "My girlfriend."
"Oh!" The woman grinned, slapping a hand onto her knee. "Is that her name!? The cute little brunette who's always hanging all over you?"
What is this shit?
"You said you've talked to her before," Chloe said. The confusion slowly wound through her bones, overtaking the sheer wrath she had felt just moments before. The woman shivered and placed the cigarette between her lips, tugging at the collar to her tattered coat.
"Definitely getting too cold," she muttered. "If I stop showing up, you can find me down at the laundromat. The vent they have out back keeps me warm. You know," she winked as she chuckled, "in case you want to make a long distance delivery."
"I'll...keep that in mind," the punk responded, trying to maintain her interrogative tone. She drew her own jacket tighter as a biting wind dashed through the alley. "I'm asking you again. Tell me about when you talked to Max. What did you talk about? Did she mention the weather? Or...or Rachel Amber?"
"Okay, kid, you got me," she replied as she shuddered again, quickly taking a puff of her cigarette to steal its warmth.
This is it...
"I'm..." The woman sighed and shook her head. "I know it doesn't do much for sympathy, but sometimes I'm too fucked up to remember what's going on."
"Wait, what?" Chloe asked, slouching in more confusion.
"I'm afraid I don't remember talking to your girlfriend," the woman complained. "I was...probably a little out of my mind, depending on the day and the, uh, substance." Chloe tilted her head to the side as her jaw drew taut, glaring at the woman with one eye.
She...doesn't remember?
"Sorry." The woman frowned. "I know it's not really a secret, but I still like to pretend that it's not obvious... Kind of pathetic, huh?" She seemed to struggle with the thought of tears, but willed it away as she gingerly touched a hand to the scratch marks on her neck.
"Wait, wait," Chloe waved her hand. "Just so we're clear, you don't have any memory of talking to Max? You told me you did and that you liked her. You even told me to take care of her and that you'd like to talk to her again."
"Yeah..." The woman shrugged. "I got nothin'. Clearly we must have talked if I knew her name, but I sure as hell don't remember it now." She looked away from Chloe and puffed on the cigarette, pulling her knees closer to her chest. "I don't suppose you'll want to be talking to an old addict anymore, huh?" The shame was clear in her voice.
What the fuck, I am so confused.
"I...no, no," Chloe assured, shaking her head. "I've done my fair share of drugs, I just...I'm confused is all. Max was pretty adamant that you guys talked. I guess it must have been when you...weren't feeling great." The lady seemed to appreciate her wording.
So she doesn't remember talking to Max... Wait, this is so fucking confusing. What if...Max talked to her when she was on autopilot? But the woman was all fucked up on drugs? She wouldn't remember, but maybe it's stuffed somewhere in her subconscious. Is that even possible?
"Ah, shit." Chloe held up her cigarette which had burnt out from neglect. She regarded the woman, someone just a moment ago she had felt immense rage for, and now only pitied her. "I uh," she flicked the cigarette toward the dumpster, scowling when it bounced off the side. "I gotta get back in there. If I don't see you...I'll make sure to stop by the laundromat, okay?"
"You're one of the good ones," the woman said, bowing her head in gratitude.
"The jury's still out on that," she quipped, turning and walking back into the diner. Once in from the cold, she rubbed her hands on her arms to help jump start her rise in temperature. "Okay..." She mumbled to herself, leaning against the wall.
Let's think about this. Let's fucking Sherlock this shit. Okay, Chloe. Max has crazy nightmares based around her fears... And I know she's been worried about the time travel shit. What if...
"Okay, okay," she said as she took her coat off. "How does this make sense? Or...enough sense as it possibly can." She wandered over to the door and stared off into the restaurant, grunting in satisfaction that no new customers had entered. "Alright. Think. Fuckin' think." She lightly prodded her temple with her index finger.
Is it possible that Max actually has all of her memories from when she was on autopilot? And...evil Max is aware of them? But why does she have fucking Super Saiyan PTSD? Is that just a side effect from time travel?
"Fuckin' sound like Warren," she chuckled. She peered through the window in the door again, focusing on Frank looking mopey as usual. Her brows began to crinkle in mischief as she grew a Grinch-esque smile.
If I'm gonna chase this possibility, I'm gonna go all in...
She sprang through the door and waltzed over to Frank, slamming her palms on the table to get his attention.
"Stop doing that!" He growled, flapping his hand at his neck. "Did you go out for a smoke? I would have joined you."
"Sorry, broseph, I had to figure something out. So, uh, listen..." She dragged the word out playfully as she waggled her eyebrows. "I need to make a purchase from you."
The punk had a little more pep in her step as she strolled toward the dormitory, the overnight bag over her shoulder bouncing against her lower back with each step. Occasionally she slid her hands underneath the large pizza box she was carrying to bring some warmth to her fingers. And though she appeared to be in good spirits – and she was for the most part – her mind was working in overdrive, still trying to piece everything together. As she trotted along the path in the courtyard, completely devoid of students, she spotted Samuel sitting on a bench. She slowed to a stop and stared, nibbling on her lip in thought.
Well, there's Lurch. Fuck it, let's see...
"Yo, Samuel." She waved enthusiastically, holding a forced smile on her face. He slowly looked to her and returned a wave with a purple gloved hand.
"Hello, Miss Price. How are your insides?" She scrunched her nose at how casually he asked it, but continued smiling.
What the fuck is your deal, homie?
"Oh, they're...inside! Where they should be, right?" She gestured to her ribs in a showcase style.
"Yes, that is preferable," he giggled. He turned away and tossed some breadcrumbs out for the squirrels sitting a few feet away.
"So, how are the little guys?" She asked, nodding to small rodents. "Say anything interesting lately?"
"Nothing particularly insightful. They didn't like the color of Samuel's new gloves, so I had to switch back." He shook his head a bit disdainfully.
"Oh yeah?" She played along. "What color were they?"
"The loveliest green. The squirrels said it reminded them too much of airplanes. The engine sounds scare them. They can be so bossy..." He pouted, his tone resembling a frustrated toddler.
Aaaaand there it is. You're just fucking crazy.
"Well, Samuel," she said as she continued toward the dorm. "Keep your chin up, buddy. Don't let the fuzzy man keep you down!"
"Oh, thank you!" He responded, waving once again.
"Knock, knock," Chloe cooed as she gently tapped the door with her boot. "Your sexy punk mistress is here to cuddle you and chase the bad Max away!" The door creaked open, revealing a disheveled, worn out Max. But she had the tiniest smirk on her face.
Jesus fucking Christ you are so beautiful.
"Hi babe," she said quietly, shifting to the side and allowing Chloe entrance into her room.
"I bring pizza!" The blue haired girl declared as she held the box above her head. "And I got broccoli on it. Even though I still don't think it's a good pizza topping."
"Thanks Chlo, but I don't think I can eat..." She frowned as she sat on her bed.
"I've seen you do it before?" Chloe teased, closing the door with her foot. "I guess I can like, momma bird it for you if you really want but it's not my ideal situation." She sat beside Max and set the pizza down next to her.
"You're...in a good mood," Max said, her voice straddling somewhere between irritation and hopefulness.
"I think I am, yeah," she replied. She kicked at her own foot, slipping her boot off before doing the same thing to the other. "So, first things first, Maximus."
My favorite thing in the entire world.
"What do you mean?" The brunette asked. Chloe grinned deviously as she leaned forward. She wrapped one hand around the back of Max's neck and pounced into a kiss, feverishly prying the girl's mouth open and absorbing her in a fit of lust. Thankfully, she didn't hesitate or resist, instead embracing it as if she'd be waiting for it all day.
"Delicious as ever," Chloe rasped. She maintained sleepy, kiss eyes with Max as she reached beside her and grabbed the pizza box. "Now, please eat. For me?"
"Freakin' cheater," Max mumbled as she flipped the box open and pulled a piece out.
"I fight as dirty as I think," the punk giggled with a shrug. "So," she pulled her bag from off her shoulder and flung it to the floor. "I was thinking about staying the night. Is that okay with you?"
"I would really like that," the brunette said with her mouth full. She stared at Chloe as she chewed, her eyes narrowing.
"What's that look for?" She asked. Max stared for a moment longer, then quickly shoved her slice of pizza into the girl's mouth.
"Broccoli pizza is good," she giggled. "Eat, eat." Chloe rolled her eyes and chomped down, exhaling her displeasure through her nose.
Alright, let's slide into this slow and gently. Eugh, phrasing, Chloe.
"So, how are you feeling?" Chloe asked as she retrieved a slice of her own. She watched Max carefully while she plucked the broccoli off.
"I don't know," Max sighed. "Feel so tired and confused. And...I'm scared, obviously." She shrugged shyly as she averted her eyes from her girlfriend.
"Well, I did some...detective work today," the punk said slowly. "I've been doing some thinking." She laughed and held up her hands even though Max didn't give her a reason to do so. "I know, I know. That's dangerous, right?"
"What did you do?" Max asked quietly with a hint of accusation.
"I talked to the chick behind the Two Whales." Chloe braced herself as she said it. Max gasped.
"What? What did you say?" She lowered her pizza into her lap and looked at Chloe with a furrowed brow.
"I was kind of mad. I just wanted to lash out..." She rubbed the back of her neck nervously. "I asked her about talking to you." Max looked away as her expression hardened.
"And?" She asked.
"And," Chloe said, sliding a hand along Max's back comfortingly, "she didn't remember doing it. Didn't even know who you were." The brunette whipped in her direction with a confused look. "She ended up kind of spilling her guts about drugs and everything. Said it gave her a shitty memory."
"I don't really see how that helps us," Max grumbled.
"Well, I'd like to put forth a theory." Chloe slid off the bed and picked up her bag, unzipping it and bringing out a bottle of wine. "But if I'm gonna get all Stephen Hawking in here, I wanna get a little loosened up first."
"I guess..." Max offered, surveying the bottle of wine with a bit of annoyance.
Not the open arms reaction I wanted, but it is the one I expected. I'm sure she'll be even more thrilled with how much weed I bought off Frank. Good thing he's still smoking...
"Just to be clear." Chloe tore the plastic from around the bottleneck and tossed it toward the trashcan, pouting when she missed. "These nightmares of yours...they're like total, fucked up, Salvador Dali acid trips built around your fears right?"
"I guess so?" Max shrugged. "I don't know what they are."
"Well, what have you been afraid of since we've been back from The Week That Never Was?" Chloe unscrewed the lid and took a small gulp directly from the bottle.
"I don't know," she huffed. "Every time I tried to fix things before, I broke them again. I guess that's been an underlying worry."
"Which is exactly what your...uh, own personal Tyler Durden accused you of, right?" She held the bottle out for Max, who reluctantly took it.
"Right," she said. Chloe held her arms out, rolling her wrist as if beckoning a realization from Max. "Oh," Max finally said. "I guess that makes sense but...how would she know about the homeless woman?" She took a quick sip of wine.
"That's the mystery, right?" The punk stretched her arms behind her before taking the bottle from Max. "I was thinking...what if you talked to the lady while you were on autopilot? Like when we were catching back up to that Friday. After I'd been shot and everything?" Max gasped as her eyes went wide.
"Holy shit, that's actually possible! But...but wait, I don't remember stuff from when I was on autopilot. I mean, I'd have years worth of memories if that was true." She scrunched her lips to the side in thought.
"Which brings me to my second theory," Chloe muttered as she searched through her bag. She peeked up at Max and awkwardly grinned as she removed a small bag of marijuana. Max groaned and crossed her arms disapprovingly.
"You fuckin' cereal right now?" She asked.
That phrase is a fucking relic, Max.
"Yeah, I'm pretty much Froot Loops," Chloe chuckled. "Look, this is serious shit and I'm just trying to level the anxiety playing field." She shrugged. "We don't have to. Your call."
"Just..." The brunette huffed. "Just set it up."
Atta girl.
"Cool," Chloe replied as she began to situate the bowl. "So, my second theory..." She stopped to regard Max. "What if you do have years of memories locked up somewhere in your head? What if that's what's causing all of this?" The girl's jaw slacked open.
"Dude," Max shook her head. "That's...hang on." She clapped her hands to her head and closed her eyes. "Warren said something about that. He was joking but...he did mention like, how does a human mind comprehend time travel and different realities?" She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. "Is this like some Lovecraftian incomprehensible horror situation?"
"Maybe," Chloe said coolly, holding the bowl out for Max. "But I think it's really important to focus on the fact that you're fighting it. You're not like, a bubbling mess of incoherence. You're still you!"
"For how much longer?" The brunette asked. "If what you're saying turns out to be true and I'm just like, going twelve rounds with insanity...how much longer can I fight it?" She winced. "No wait, this doesn't even make sense. What about Samuel?"
"First of all," the punk pointed at the bowl, "hit that." Max did as she was told, though her eyes never left Chloe. "Second of all, I briefly looked into that as well and obviously I can't prove this, but I think the dude's just...crazy. Broken clock's right twice a day, you know?"
"I don't know, dude," Max said, exhaling a stream of smoke. "I just don't know how much longer I can keep it up." Chloe snickered and retrieved another slice of pizza, taking a bite without bothering to remove the broccoli this time.
"When you have these nightmares, you're like lucid right?" She asked, plopping one hand onto her hip.
"Yeah."
"Well, if it happens again...I want you to kick ass. Fight back for real." She handed her slice of pizza to Max, trading her for the smoldering bowl. The smaller girl began to munch on it as she listened.
"Go on," she insisted.
"When that ugly voice in your head starts talking shit, talk shit back. Stand your ground. I'm serious. Use like, grounding but the superpower version."
"That's so much easier said than done," she complained, falling backward onto her bed. "You don't understand, Chlo. It's a total assault on my psyche." The blue haired girl took a deep hit and exhaled.
"I believe in you," she said, climbing onto the bed with Max. "You are fucking amazing. You can do anything. And you can beat this." She grabbed the bottle of wine and took a swig, then handed it to Max.
"I don't know..." Max said quietly before taking a drink.
"Fuckin' believe in the me that believes in you, Caulfield," the punk snipped with a smirk. "Max, I have never believed in anything as much as I believe in you. As much as I believe in us. We're the fucking champions here. We're the kings of Big Dick Mountain. Everything else is bullshit."
"Where...is that located?" The brunette asked with a small smile.
There we go, she's lightening up.
"West of Unicorn Castle and north of Fat Stacks Valley," Chloe chuckled, inching herself closer to the smaller girl. "The point is I believe in you, okay?"
"Believe doesn't even sound like a word anymore. Bee-leave. That's what happens when a honeybee goes on an extended vacation." She snirked and rolled her eyes. "You fucker, got me high."
"You got yourself high, dork. And see, now you know what I was talking about that one time. Aggrandizing!" Chloe pulled in another drag from the bowl, then set it down on Max's dresser. Max began to laugh as she pushed the punk's face away.
"Don't even start that," she giggled. She took another sip from the bottle then rolled to her side, slipping one of her legs over Chloe's waist. "Hey," she said.
"What's up, cutie?" Chloe purred, swiping a hand through Max's hair.
"I'm crazy into you," she said.
God my fucking heart.
"Well, duh," the taller girl responded. "I'm a total catch." Rather than scoff or act offended, Max simply smiled warmly and nodded.
"You are. I had to cast a net through time and space to catch you, but I did it." She leaned forward and softly bumped her head against Chloe's chin. "I gotcha."
"You are fucking perfect, I can't even stand it," Chloe whispered, slowly shaking her head in disbelief.
"Good, because you're not standing," the brunette shot back. She watched her for a moment, her blue eyes making tiny movements across the punk. "How do you do it?"
"Do what, babe?" Chloe asked as she slid closer, throwing an arm around the girl.
"Fucking fix everything. You're like..."
"I told you, I'll be your glue if you'll be mine. You've done your fair share of piecing me back together, too. Only fair that I reciprocate." She quickly darted in to give Max a peck on the cheek. Max closed her eyes and grinned, slapping a hand right where Chloe's lips had just been.
"Are we a disgusting Nicholas Sparks couple?" She asked dreamily as she kneaded her cheek.
"I have no idea who that is, but we can be if you want." The punk rubbed a foot against Max's as the girl nodded in response. "So, how are you feeling, boo?"
"Still scared. Still nervous. But also a little optimistic...and I'm hungry."
I'll take that.
"Amazingly," Chloe snickered, "there's actually pizza right here! How about that?"
"It's a miracle!" Max said excitedly in a hushed tone. She held her arms open wide and rolled into Chloe, burying her face in the punk's chest.
"Nah," the blue haired girl laughed, "you're the miracle." She quietly snorted and rolled her eyes.
Yikes. What have you turned me into, Maxine Caulfield?
A/N: Another Chloe chapter so soon? Yep! The blue haired misfit needed to get her deduction on. Anyway...
So, a bit of real talk here, guys. I know the last chapter may have left a sour taste in some people's mouths. I went back and forth between being really excited to really nervous about posting it. I have been so amazingly fortunate with this story – the overall reactions to it have been way better than I could have ever expected. But there has been one thing happening that has left me feeling conflicted. I have received numerous comments/reviews/PM's that have mentioned the story felt "too happy" compared to the source material. I don't think this was ever meant negatively, but I actually do take it as a criticism because it means that I haven't been doing as good a job as I thought I was. I think I may have overestimated my cleverness, believing that I was successfully using foreshadowing to allude that there may be darker things looming overhead. But instead, I think for some people, the last chapter may have felt like a completely unwarranted shift in tone. That's my fault, and I really do apologize if anyone feels like I've misled them.
It's actually kind of embarrassing how much work I've put into planning out this story. I don't want this to be set in stone, but I have enough that what has already been published may only be 1/4th of the content or LESS. Obviously, that is a fickle statement that is capable of changing at any moment based on a variety of factors, but as of now, that's how it's looking. My plan and approach to this story has always been to just kind of...keep it going while steadily working toward the ending I have in mind. The way it's structured allows me to insert purely fluff chapters along the spine of what I would consider the "main" plot. Now, the problem with this is that because I have such a far off view of where I'm headed, there's bound to be a disconnect somewhere with the readers and I need to do a better job of bridging that gap with my writing. I actually felt somewhat similarly when I first introduced NSFW elements to the story. Just this nagging feeling in the back of my head like I was...tricking people into something they may not have signed up for. So, I guess as just an official declaration, you can expect more sad stuff, more dark time stuff, more NSFW stuff, etc. But also much more fluff, much more Max and Chloe being cute with each other. And many, many more texts. I don't really have a hold on what "genre" this story is even meant to be. I know FF and AO3 force you to choose, but it feels very restrictive. The only genre I can really describe Ouroboros as is Pricefield. And on that note...
I might just be pretentious enough to care about "spoilers" in a fanfiction, but I have zero problems telling all of you right now that I have absolutely no intention or interest in ending this as a tragedy. I love Max and Chloe as characters, and like many of you, I want them to be happy. And they will be! That I can promise. Better yet, the resolution to this little arc in a chapter or two is something I've been on and off writing since before the fic started proper. I'm hoping it will make up for dreariness lately.
I really don't know if this whole thing was necessary, but that persistent voice in the back of my head convinced me to throw this out there. If even one person felt betrayed or misled, I want you to know I'm sorry and that I hope you'll continue on this journey with me. If you can't or won't, then that's also fine and I want to thank you so much for devoting literally any time at all to reading it. It's...still pretty surreal to see that people dig it. I'm so, so fucking grateful.