It was the sort of quiet where you could hear your own heart beating in your ears, loud and obnoxious in the wake of such a still night. Max tossed and turned on her side of the rickety, ratty bed, felt springs dig deep into her thigh and turned again until finally she was on her back and angry and her eyes watered with the effort it took not to scream and wake Chloe up. How she even managed to sleep was beyond the younger girl - then again, she wasn't really sure how Chloe grieved. She skipped out on the first time.
It had been nearly a week since Arcadia washed away, since they drove through the streets and witnessed first-hand just how destructive the storm had been. Since then they'd bunkered down in some grimy motel off the interstate on their way to California. Max didn't rightly care where they went, just so long as Chloe would look at her again. Just so long as they wouldn't sit in silence one more day, nothing but the grinding of the truck and the wind keeping up any pretense of a conversation.
Max knew what this quiet stemmed from, and though she'd never deny Chloe her grief, it was hard not to notice the way the older girl would sometimes glance at her. Like she was a ticking time bomb. Like if Chloe wasn't silent, maybe it would be her next. That thought always tore up Max's insides.
From somewhere else in the motel came a bang, a door being shut too harshly. It rattled the walls, that sound, like they were little more than paper, and Max winced and clenched her fists tighter to her sides. Tried to tell herself it was okay, they were safe finally, but the longer she laid there the more her mind screamed at her to get up.
So, she did.
The bed groaned far too loudly as she sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the mattress and settling her feet on the rough, patchy carpet. Not the most ideally hygienic place in the world, but it worked when you could only pay in hard cash to keep your parents from tracking you. That was something else she felt awful about, but at this point what was one more thing. It was better they didn't know, not yet. Not until something changed.
Max stumbled into the bathroom and shut the door behind herself, slouching against it in the dark and just trying to stay calm. It smelled awful in here, but she didn't really care, just kept trying to regulate her breathing and not cry. She could feel the urge to crawling up her throat and it choked her. In a pitiful attempt to stop it, she swallowed. It didn't do much to assuage the tears building in her eyes.
She thought of Arcadia Bay during these stolen moments. About Kate and her tea dates, about Warren and his movie collection, about Samuel and his love of the squirrels. About Joyce, about David. About Rachel.
And in that darkened bathroom she broke. Covered her mouth with her hands and slipped down onto the floor, balling herself up until she was tucked into herself, body wracked with silent sobs. It hurt her chest and her throat to force the sounds into silence, but she did anyways, adamant that just because she was a mess didn't mean she had to drag Chloe into it as well. Let her sleep. Let her grieve. Let her live.
The end of the month came and went, and they didn't make it to LA. Not really. They made it as far as the state sign when Chloe slammed on the brakes, hard enough to send Max careening into the dashboard and the cars behind them to honk obnoxiously. And then they'd just sat there. Max sucking in breath through her teeth to relieve the very real burning along her side and Chloe just staring at that marker, hands so solid around the wheel her knuckles threatened to split the skin. It was a moment of absolute silence between them.
The cars went around, and Max dared to look at Chloe and -.
She wasn't crying. She wasn't angry.
She looked shocked. Like she couldn't believe they'd made it. Like she couldn't believe she was really entering California. It would have been funny if she wasn't so statue-still. A testament to just how far away home really, finally was.
Max shifted back into her seat, side still aching but ignored, and watched Chloe watch that sign. Watched her swallow and breathe a shaky breath and then -.
She lifted her fists and pounded them against the wheel. Once, twice, both times making Max jump, thrice and then she was wailing. It wasn't just crying, wasn't the sobbing that Max herself did late at night when she was sure her friend was asleep. This was a guttural sound that reverberated through the cab and etched itself into Max's very soul. It tore her up inside to listen to.
Chloe wailed and slammed her whole body against her door, tearing it open and hopping out the truck before Max could stop her, and Max watched in open mouth horror as cars whizzed by and Chloe ran out onto the road and -.
She wasn't crying. She wasn't angry.
She looked shocked. Like she couldn't believe they'd made it. Like she couldn't believe she was really entering California. It would have been funny if she wasn't so statue-still.
Max wiped frantically at her face then pitched forward, side all but forgotten as she wrapped her arms around Chloe. The girl didn't stir in her grasp but that was okay because at least she was still here. Max heard the swallow and shaky breath, but this time there was no wailing. Just a heartbeat she could feel against her cheek as she buried herself against Chloe further, more or less just in her lap now. Anything to keep her here. Anything.
It was the first time she'd used her powers since Arcadia. Part of her shook at the possibility that she would make another storm trying to save Chloe all over again. Part of her didn't really care anymore. Part of her felt entitled to continue using it, if for no other reason than to spite whatever God had deemed to give her such destructive abilities. But most of her just wanted Chloe to be okay. That had always been enough.
Hadn't it?
Neither girl spoke. Chloe never took her eyes off that sign, and as they sat there and cars flew by their own engine came to a stuttering, whining standstill. The air between them felt weighted, hard to breathe, and Max wondered if it was just her and her anxieties or if there was something happening to them. Some rift they couldn't see but could feel, starting to separate them in a way that she had been sure nothing could. If they had survived five years of contactless division, surely this wouldn't be what broke them.
Max swallowed, hard. Hard enough she was pretty sure Chloe could have felt it if she was even still conscious of what was happening at this point. And, very slowly, she peeled herself away from the older girl to get a look at her face.
Chloe didn't even flinch. Didn't move her eyes from the sign. Didn't look like she was breathing, really, but Max held up a wary finger beneath her nose and found that that, at least, wasn't true. But she definitely wasn't here.
And that rift definitely was.
