On the short list of 'worst possible things' Max carried around in her head, Chloe dreaming of the other reality was probably at the top. But even she wasn't prepared for how devastated the poor girl would be once it finally happened. Chloe tried her best to fake it but she barely lasted ten seconds before she broke down in Max's arms. She held her for hours, first on the floor and then on the bed, clutching Chloe's head close to her chest as she whispered soothingly. Eventually, when it seemed Chloe physically couldn't cry any longer, Max decided they should leave Blackwell.
She hated how little they spoke, but in all honesty, she didn't know what to say. She'd thought about it for months, prepared herself for how she'd handle the situation. But now that it actually happened, she felt utterly useless. When they did speak, like when she asked if Chloe wanted to go to her house, the sentences were fractured and incomplete. Worried that they might run into someone looking to strike up a conversation, Max led her to the back of the dorm and around the perimeter of Blackwell property to reach the parking lot.
"Do you want me to drive?" she asked, not yet letting go of Chloe's hand as they got to the truck.
"I can," Chloe said, giving a weak shake of her head as she pulled out of Max's grasp. She frowned at the broken contact, then hurried to the passenger side.
Chloe, I'm sorry. I don't know what to do for you. I'm sorry.
Chloe's head twisted slow and robotically, checking each of her mirrors as she pulled out of the parking lot. The radio remained untouched, its silence sinking like a stone in Max's stomach. She couldn't even begin to guess what part of the dream was currently eating at Chloe's thoughts. Seeing William again would certainly be painful enough, but she also saw Max...kill her. How did she feel about that? Was she angry? It didn't seem like it...
I need to figure out what to say. I need something. I just...fuck.
"Chloe," Max said, reaching beside her to take Chloe's hand. Thankfully, she reciprocated, locking her fingers between Max's. "I, uh...I love you." She inwardly cringed at how much it sounded like a question.
"I love you too," she responded, not taking her eyes off the road. Max looked down at her feet, ashamed at how little was coming to her mind.
"We'll get through this," she said without lifting her head.
Chloe nodded, her lips drawn into a tight line as she fought, and failed, to smile.
Max watched as Chloe walked ahead of her. The house was eerily quiet aside from the pounding of her leaden footsteps. She entered the living room and flopped onto the couch, immediately burying her face in her hands. Max hurried over to her.
"Chloe," she said, wrapping her arms around her, "will you talk to me?"
"I don't know what to say," Chloe replied in a ghostly voice.
"I know it's hard." Max glanced to the side in somber thought, then cleared her throat. "Um, how much did you see?"
"All of it," she said. Max laid her head on Chloe's shoulder.
Even the end when I...
"Um..." She loosened her grip around Chloe for a moment, preparing to pull away if need be. Then she tightened it again. "I'm sorry for..." she gulped, "for the morphine." She started to cry as she remembered that moment.
No. No, dammit. I have to be strong. I can't cry.
"I asked you," Chloe said. "I mean, I saw how it played out. I begged you. You were doing as I asked."
"Still," Max responded, "I just...I didn't want to do that. I really didn't."
"I can imagine," Chloe chuckled bitterly. "Kind of uncool of me to ask that of you." She ran a hand through her hair. "I looked so different." Max closed her eyes and sighed.
"I know," she said. "It was all really different. It was...not right. Not how things are supposed to be." Chloe turned her head and regarded Max.
"You know, I was always really confused about what you said just before Dad died. When you told me to be strong. That...that was you." She shook her head. "You you. Not little Max. It was you."
"Yes," Max said, sounding guilty. "I didn't know what else to do. I knew I was going to be moving away. I knew how hard things were going to get for you."
This is so fucked up.
"Thanks." Chloe ruffled her hair frustratedly and leaned back into the couch. "What the fuck would you have done if you couldn't come back?" She looked at Max with hard eyes. "You would have been arrested. You know that?" Max shrank and looked away.
"I-I don't know." She shrugged, feeling small under Chloe's glare. "You were in so much pain. I just...didn't think that far ahead." Chloe snorted and nodded as if receiving confirmation for a suspicion.
"You didn't," she said, her voice getting chillier. "Max, I don't...I'm having a really rough time understanding this." She let out a burst of caustic breath. "Do you even know how that whole thing works? What if you left that Max there? What if she did get arrested?" Max finally let go of Chloe and faced forward, hugging herself uneasily.
'One of the many Maxes you left behind...' Right.
"I...I don't know, Chloe." She wiped at the tears on her cheeks. "The uh, other me said that I was just rewriting the same timeline over and over." Chloe scoffed and lurched to her feet. She turned and pointed at Max.
"See! So now we're believing her?" she asked. She growled and gripped her hair as she paced away. "What the fuck does that mean? Our options are 'we don't fucking know' or 'hey, the crazy psycho version of you was right about everything!'"
"How could she have been right?" Max held her hands out, trying not to flinch at Chloe's flaring temper. "Nothing about that makes sense! I haven't had any problems for months. I haven't had a nosebleed for even longer!" At the mention of 'nosebleed,' Chloe stopped and stared at Max with fearful eyes. "Babe?"
What's that look for?
"I know," Chloe said, sliding back into a more neutral expression. "I'm sorry for getting snippy. I just...I don't get this shit at all." She seemed to be deciding on something, then sighed. "Haven't you ever...I don't know, stopped to think about how many versions of people you've met?"
What?
"What do you mean?" Max asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I mean..." Chloe waved her hands in search of explanation, "haven't you ever wondered if I'm the same Chloe you started with? What if the original Chloe just fucking died in the bathroom? What if every time you jumped into a photo, you were just stepping into another reality?" A disconcerting feeling snaked through Max's veins and she turned pale.
That couldn't be true. ...right?
"Who was I hanging out with while you were in the reality where I was a fucking vegetable?" Chloe clutched her stomach and let out a weak sob. "Fuck. Fuck, I'm so sick of crying."
"You're my Chloe," Max said in a whisper, acutely aware of how she was sidestepping the question. "Of course you're my Chloe." Chloe tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling.
"Do you know how insane it is to see yourself doing shit you never did?" she asked. Max cast her eyes downward and scrunched her lips to the side.
"I...don't..." she said.
"You don't," Chloe agreed with a sharp nod. "I don't think anyone is supposed to. It's like I've had all this fucking," she pointed at her temple, "information forced into my goddamn head and there's not enough room for it." She began to hop in place anxiously and flicked her hand as if discarding some of her nerves. "Max, how many times did you fuck up with the train?" Max's eyes grew wide.
"What?" She was shaking her head feverishly, her eyes filling with frightened tears.
Why would she ask me that?
"Please, don't play dumb," Chloe said. "My dream was...was different this time. Things kept changing. I was seeing different parts of memories. Things were replaying like someone had a fucking remote. I saw us by the lighthouse." She dragged her hands across her face. "What if I have to watch myself get run over by a fucking train?"
"Chloe, listen," Max began, but was cut off.
"I wasn't prepared for that shit at all," Chloe said, turning away and staring out at the backyard. "I have a right to know. I should know what to expect."
Fuck no. No.
"I'm not telling you," Max said, her tone resolute. "I'm sorry." Chloe whipped back to her and glared.
"So at least once." She took in a deep breath through her nose to steady herself, then her expression grew sickly. "Did..." she struggled with the words, "did you see it?"
"No," Max said quietly, breaking eye contact. "I couldn't." Chloe sighed in relief and strolled back over to the couch, plopping down onto it.
"Well, that's good at least," she said. She opened her mouth to speak, then slammed it shut with a clink of her teeth. Max leaned to the right to see Chloe's face.
"Babe, what aren't you telling me?" She slowly, cautiously reached for Chloe's hand.
"Nothing," Chloe responded. "It's just fucking with my head. But I guess none of it matters, right?" She smiled weakly and pulled Max's hand to her cheek, leaning her face into it.
...does it?
"I don't know," Max said. "It's confusing. It's...it's too hard to understand."
"You got that right," Chloe bitterly agreed. She yawned, then shook the drowsiness from her head. "I could go for some coffee. Do you want some?"
"Uh, yeah. Sure, boo," Max said, giving a light squeeze to Chloe's hand.
As the day turned to night, Max did her best to distract Chloe. They eventually moved to the bedroom and were halfway through their fourth consecutive movie. Chloe kept having moments where she'd seem to retreat into her head, her eyes staring at the laptop but not quite seeing anything. When this happened, Max tried to strike up conversations about 'normal' things. She'd hold her. Kiss her. She even played her a song on her guitar. Every so often, Chloe would ask for another cup of coffee and Max would run downstairs to get it. She was reminded of the way her mother used to dote on her when she was sick as a child.
"Here you go, baby," Max said, handing Chloe the mug of coffee. She slid back into bed and laid down, resting her head in Chloe's lap.
"Thanks," Chloe replied, taking a large gulp. Max winced at the sight and tried to shift herself so she'd be touching as much of Chloe as she could.
"Isn't it hot?" she asked, though she knew the answer. It was scalding.
"It's fine," Chloe said as if it were no big deal. "Do you like the movie?"
"Yeah." Max frowned and reached to tap the space bar on the laptop. "It's good."
I know what you're doing, Chloe. You're trying to stay awake.
Though Chloe's well-being took precedent, Max did find herself ruminating on some of the questions that she was asked. She couldn't believe how she hadn't considered some of them. It was almost as if her subconscious had kidnapped those thoughts in an attempt to keep her safe. Of course, the one thing Chloe kept bringing up that Max felt no doubt on was whether or not things were 'right' between them. She wouldn't for a second believe that the Chloe she was currently snuggled with wasn't the real deal. The very idea of it was insulting.
It sounds like you have your own 'other' you that's fucking with your head.
By the time the fourth movie was over, Chloe had drank two more cups of coffee. They moved on to a fifth film, then a sixth as Max occasionally stole Chloe's attention, comforting her without actually speaking of the problem. Sometime after losing track of how many movies they had watched, she was caught by the steely grip of exhaustion. Over and over, she told herself that she couldn't fall asleep. She couldn't leave Chloe alone. Over and over and over. But it wasn't enough.
Chloe sat quietly, watching the subtle rise and fall of Max's chest as she purred in her sleep. She wasn't really expecting her to stay up all night, but it still hurt a little that she was now on her own. Now that she had a moment to think on it, she truly regretted how she had spoken to Max earlier. After months of tiptoeing and trying not to upset her or instigate a nosebleed, she carelessly threw impossible question after impossible question at the girl. The same questions that she could still feel chewing on the strands of her sanity.
Great job, Chloe. Glad to see you can still blow up months of progress in a matter of minutes.
Carefully, she rose out of bed and snagged her cigarettes off the desk before heading downstairs. She slipped her jacket on and secured her beanie, then went outside.
At least you didn't say anything about the nosebleed. At least you're not a total fuck up.
She situated a cigarette between her lips, taking note of how shaky her hands were. It was more of a jitter than an anxious tremble, and she took solace in knowing the caffeine was doing its part in keeping her awake. Though, the fact that she was indeed wide awake presented its own problems. She didn't want to risk having another dream, but she also knew sleep was probably the best thing for her. Being awake meant that she could avoid the dreams, but that she was...well, conscious. And being conscious meant thinking.
Either take the gamble on a dream and get some rest or stay up and do nothing but fucking think about it. Great options.
She walked to the edge of the driveway and looked left and right down her street. She wondered how much damage the storm would have done to it were it left unchecked. It wasn't like she had much of a relationship with any of her neighbors, but she definitely didn't want them to die or really even suffer a bit of minor property damage. After a long drag, she sat down on the curb and took out her phone.
Let me just check on him.
She dialed a number and pinned the phone between her ear and shoulder as she fiddled with her shoelaces.
"Hey brat," Frank answered. She could hear Pompidou scurrying around in the background. "It's...holy shit, it's late. Are you okay?"
Still here.
"Yo," she said, working up a small smile at his voice. "Yeah, I'm okay. Did I wake you up?"
"No, I just got off." He snickered. "We got slammed but I pulled through without any help."
"Awesome." Chloe flicked her cigarette into the street and immediately grabbed another. "You're really settling in there, huh?"
"I think so," he said. "It helps that the customers don't get to see who's making their food. I like hiding in my kitchen. No, er, worries about the town dirtbag making your meal."
"Good to hear, man," she responded. "How's Pompidou?"
"He's fine. Getting fat," Frank said, then there was a beat of silence. "Are you sure you're okay? Why did you call?"
When did I stop being good at hiding shit?
"Max conked out early and I'm all hopped up on caffeine so I figured, what the fuck, I'll bother Frank," she said. "And yes, I'm fine."
"Okay," he said, suspicion underlining his words, "just making sure." Chloe felt a bubble of anxiety in her throat.
"Hey, do you have any guns in the RV?" she asked. She could almost hear his look of confusion.
Subtle.
"What? Where did that come from?" Frank asked. "I have one... Why?"
"I'm just...I don't know, man, I'm just curious." She slowly reclined onto her back in the driveway. "You should ditch it. Gun control."
"Pfft, what? Are you...high?" It was a sincere question. "What in the hell you talking about?"
"I don't know. I just have a bit of a distaste for the fucking things. I've been shot, if you'll recall." She gritted her teeth, realizing how incoherent she sounded. "If you're cleaning up your act, you should get rid of it."
I do sound high.
Okay..." She could hear the pop of a beer bottle and the ensuing gulping noise. "Look, I don't know where this is coming from but I forgot I even had the damn thing until now. I'm not going to rush to get rid of it, but I'll do it eventually." He chuckled. "I guess I should try to avoid situations where I'd need to use it, anyway. I'm glad I have you around to stop me from taking one in the chest." Chloe clenched her jaw at that. "Seriously though, Chloe. You know I'm not good at this mushy shit but I think you kinda saved my life. Who knows where I would have ended up if you didn't stop by after Rachel's funeral."
This is a sick joke, right?
"You're being dramatic," she said, laughing uneasily. "We're friends. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
"Yeah, I know," he replied, "just figured I'd say it."
"Well, I appreciate it. I'm happy you're still around." She reached beside her and pressed her palm into the cool concrete, feeling all of the little, jagged pieces. "Well, I'll let you go. I have quite the list of people to bug. Social butterfly that I am."
"Alright," he laughed, "I'll see you later, dork."
"Laters," she said, then hung up the phone.
So, what's the takeaway? In one reality, I kill him. In another, I save him. Does it cancel out? Does it fucking matter?
As she pulled on her third cigarette, her eyes strayed from the blazing ember to the night sky above her. There wasn't a cloud in sight, allowing her to see all of the pinpricks of light in the black sheet of darkness. She wondered how many of them were still alive and how many were merely the ghosts of long forgotten life.
"Are the stars the same in every reality?" she mused aloud. "Probably...right?" She clicked her tongue in thought, then scrolled through her phone for another number.
"Hello?" Warren answered, his voice carrying no trace of sleepiness. She held the phone away from her for a moment and looked at it in surprise.
"Why are you awake?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" There was a scoff of disappointment. "Wow, it is way later than I thought it was. I've been raiding."
Probably a fucking nerd in every reality.
"Killing orcs?" Chloe asked with a slight smirk.
"Something like that," he replied. "So, what's up? Why the late night call?"
"Uh, okay, right." She puckered her lips in uncertainty. "I mean, if you're busy..."
Kinda hope you say you are.
"Nah, I'm done. We've wiped like ten times." Chloe could hear him moving around. "Bunch of scrubs."
"So," she breathed out, "you know how I get those dreams?"
"Yeah?" He immediately sounded more alert. "What happened?"
"I, uh, had one about when Max was in a different reality." She raised her arm and pointed at one of the stars, then dragged it slowly to another as if drawing a string between them. "I was in a wheelchair and my dad was alive."
"What the fuck?" He tried to follow up several times but could only conjure the beginning sound of words before he resigned himself to silence.
Appropriate response.
"Yep," Chloe said, "pretty...pretty 'what the fuck.'" She sat up and pulled her legs beneath her. "Listen, you talked about that weird feeling you get when Max tells you something you did but didn't do. What is that like?"
"Uh...it's, it's like..." He was clearly uncomfortable. Which made sense. This particular topic was very much one the two of them would prefer to bury and ignore. "It's hard to explain. It's like, um, have you ever been electrocuted?" The sort of hiss that accompanies a cringe leaked through the receiver. "I don't mean like, actually electrocuted. But like if you've ever accidentally touched the prong of a cord when you're unplugging it, it feels like...vibration or something?"
Yup.
"Yes," Chloe said, nodding her head attentively. "Yes, I know what you mean."
"It was sort of like that but inside my head," he said, "but it also felt like someone flashed a strobe light. Like...it blinded my thoughts? Like I couldn't think. I don't know, like the flash of a..." His voice dropped off.
"Camera," Chloe quietly finished for him.
"I, um, never really put it together like that before," he admitted.
"Yeah," she said, shifting nervously, "what else does it feel like?"
"I don't know, it makes me kind of dizzy. It didn't really at first, though. And it's like nails on a chalkboard, it makes me shiver." He hesitated for a moment. "It happened to you."
"Yes," she responded. "When I woke up from my dream, I was all fucked up." She fumbled for another cigarette. "But there was something else."
"What?" he asked.
"I got a...nosebleed," she said, aggressively spinning the wheel of her lighter.
"What!?" His voice scratched in a loud hush. "What the fuck? From the dream or...?"
"Fucking crazy coincidence if it wasn't," she said. "It's never happened before. I've had tons of these dreams by now. I don't understand why this one did it."
"Well, what was different about it? Aside from...I guess everything." She could hear the sound of him opening and closing drawers.
This is fucked.
"I don't know," she said. "I mean, I just..." She huffed and flailed her arm. "I do know, I don't know why I'm pretending I don't. I watched myself fucking die."
"Wait, what?" Warren asked. He sounded genuinely dumbfounded.
"You heard me," she said. "I died. I watched my own last breath."
"Uh..." He blew air through his lips in a neighing fashion. "I don't really know what to say, Chloe. That's fucked up. Are you...okay?"
"Not really," she mumbled.
"Did you...tell Max?" he asked.
"Fuck no! Are you kidding me? I can't like, trigger a relapse or something!" she hissed.
"No, I get it." He was silent for a moment. "Do you want to try something?"
"What's that?" She scowled as she plucked at the fabric of her pants.
"You can, um, tell me something that happened to me," he said. "We should try to understand this better."
Are you insane?
"Dude, what? No way." She shook her head to herself. "I'm a complete mess because of it."
"Come on, it's fine," he assured. Chloe took a deep breath.
Dammit. Alright, think...
"Uh, okay..." She looked around as if she might find an example. "You totally fucking owned Nathan Prescott." She recoiled in expectancy.
"Nothing happened," he said with a bit of relief. "But I already knew that. Max told me. So...I guess it doesn't happen with information I already have?"
Well, that's something... But it doesn't help me.
"But I know everything," Chloe said. "I didn't know the specifics, but I knew I died. I knew my dad was alive. It's not breaking news for me." She heard Warren 'hmm.'
"Try something I might not know," he said. Chloe thought it over.
"In the other reality, it looked like you were hooked up with Stella," she said. Instantly, a sound of stifled pain came from the receiver. "Dude! Are you okay!?"
Fuck, this was a bad idea!
"Y-yeah," he stammered, "I'm good. It was...definitely worse that time than the others."
"So, what? The more you know, the worse it gets?" she asked.
"Maybe? I mean, we're both kind of just guessing here," he sighed. He chuckled exasperatedly. "This is crazy. It's crazy. What the fuck?"
"Dude, I don't know," she said. "I mean, we can at least prevent it from happening to you and other people. But if it happens to me in my dreams..." She huffed. "Obviously that's why I'm still awake."
"I sort of figured," he said. "What if it is because you saw yourself die? Then...then at least that'd be it, right? You got it out of your system?" Chloe tightened her eyes shut when she could feel tears building.
There's a lot more in my system.
"No," she whispered, "I died...a lot. I don't even know how much. She won't tell me." She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face between them. "Warren, I'm really scared."
"I...I know," he said, his voice full of pity. "We'll...figure it out. Somehow." Chloe shoved down a sob in her chest and nodded.
"Right... Listen," she said, reaching for another cigarette, "I'm going to go. I'm sorry if I like, fucked up your night. I'm sorry. That was selfish. I just needed to tell someone."
Now I'm dragging Warren down with the ship.
"It's okay," he said with sincerity, "it's really okay. Are you going to be okay tonight?"
"Uh huh," she rubbed her eyes on her sleeve, "I'm cool. I'll catch you later, alright?"
"Alright... Night, Chloe," he said, clearly reluctant to hang up.
"See ya," she responded, then ended the call.
Awesome.
She stayed in the driveway, burning the last cigarette down to the filter as she silently cried. When it was done, she forced herself to her feet and went back inside. Carefully, she crept back into her room and picked the laptop up off the bed, then stared at Max. She seemed so peaceful as she slept, curled up with the blankets fluffed up around her. For the first time in twenty-four hours, Chloe smiled and actually meant it.
Laptop in hand, she sat on the couch in the living room and went to work on Google. With each search, she found herself embarrassed at the kind of terms she was typing in. Parallel universes. Alternate realities. Side-effects of time travel. She'd done research on time travel after meeting back up with Max, but now she was scouring forums and strange, poorly made websites from the 90's for firsthand accounts and ridiculous theories. Unsurprisingly, none of them matched up with her experiences.
Figures. The first people to ever time travel are two fucking teenaged girls that don't understand a fucking thing about it. Why us?
When she felt her eyes become heavier, she returned to the kitchen and brewed a new cup of coffee. Exactly how long could she stay up? Worse still, Joyce and David were due to return in another day and they would certainly see something was wrong. Then there was work to worry about... She roughly rubbed her face to help wake herself up, then went back to the laptop
Timelines. What is time? Is it a man-made concept? Fate. Dimensions.
She typed and typed, growing more agitated with each bit of irrelevant information. Finally, she slammed the laptop in disgust and fell back into the couch.
"This is such bullshit," she muttered. She lifted her head and looked around the room. It was suddenly impossible to not notice the differences between the one she was currently in and the one in the other timeline. Nothing seemed to be in the right place. It pulled at her in discomfort.
Dad... I'm sorry I stressed you out so much. I hope you'd understand why Max did what she did. I was so...broken. I guess I'm not really supposed to be here in any reality.
"Except this one," she finished out loud. "I'm supposed to be here. With Max. My Max." She felt something on her shoulder and jolted, jerking around to find Max behind her, the blanket from her bed wrapped around her shoulders.
"Your Max," she said, her voice weak with sleep. She came around the couch and sat down, rocking herself onto her knees as she reached out and laid her hands on Chloe's cheeks. "I'm always yours. You know that, right?"
"What do you mean?" Chloe asked.
"I mean that it doesn't matter if there's just us or a billion realities." Max moved closer and kissed her lovingly. "In every single one of them, I'm yours."
"You don't know that," Chloe said, shaking her head.
"I got my powers in the bathroom when Nathan shot you," Max said. "I didn't even know it was you. But... It has to count for something that you were the one that triggered it." She frowned and looked away. "I went through hell for you. Don't you dare tell me that this isn't real."
"Max..." Chloe sighed. "I'm sorry. I love you. It's just hard."
"I know it is," Max said. "I know. But we're together. I don't have the answers for any of this shit. I don't have anything I can say to...to try and fix what this did to you. But we're together and I know it's hard, but please..." She hugged Chloe, pressing her face into the girl's chest. "Don't doubt this. Us."
"I don't," Chloe responded, moving her hands along Max's back, "I promise, I don't. I just..." Her voice failed her once she realized she didn't have anywhere for the thought to go.
I don't.
"Next time you have a dream, you need to let me know right away," Max said, kissing Chloe's chest through the cloth of her shirt. "I know you usually do, but yesterday was so scary. If it's bad like that, I need you to tell me. I need to be there for you. I hate the thought of you just sitting here going crazy all morning."
Oh, right. I didn't tell her about getting sort of arrested at the cemetery.
"Okay," Chloe said.
"I'm not mad," Max continued, snuggling into Chloe further to demonstrate the truth in her words, "but you can't keep things from me. You have to be honest. You can't...you can't keep putting up this front that everything's okay." A somber noise rumbled in Max's throat. "You can't tell me that you're scared you're not the real Chloe if you're choosing not to be her."
Chloe swallowed hard, imagining the cloud of blood in the toilet. Max was right, of course. They couldn't keep secrets from each other. Especially not about this. If the truth did have some kind of effect on Max, if it sent her back into a dark place, they'd be able to get through it just like before. She closed her eyes, readying herself. She had to tell her the truth.
"I will, Max," she said. A heavy, revolting feeling took root in her chest when she realized that was all she had to say. There was nothing else on her tongue.
I'm sorry.
"Good," Max said, taking hold of Chloe's hands and wrapping them around herself. She yawned and nestled into her lap. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Chloe whispered, staring straight ahead, "I'm fine."