Sean Prescott sat alone, smoking a cigar, waiting. The noise outside the bunker was ferocious. He was pretty sure the house above was entirely gone at this point. No great loss. It was insured. Everything was insured, even against "acts of God", which, some might argue, was exactly what this storm was. But it didn't matter. His son was dead, his wife, downtown when the storm hit, was probably dead, Jefferson was either imprisoned or dead, all of his employees were probably dead, and all his plans and all his property certainly lay in ruins. If he survived the next 24 hours, his influence was gone, his power, his organization. After this, he was just some schmuck with a plus-sized bank account. And if he didn't survive, his hippie daughter would inherit the plus-sized bank account, and would probably give it all away and go back to living in the jungle, or whatever godforsaken hole she'd gone off to.

This was not how this week was supposed to go. The Price girl was to meet her end days ago, netting his son the brush with the law that would harden him into the man he needed to be. It hadn't happened. When the snow started falling, Sean had realized that something new was afoot in Arcadia Bay, something he didn't understand. Hadn't foreseen. Couldn't prepare for. Much, much too late had it become apparent that the new thing was one Maxine Caulfield, who, somehow, was neatly sidestepping destiny over and over again. She'd kept Price alive, broken into the Dark Room, spooked Mark badly enough that the fool murdered Nathan. And now, this storm, which Sean was certain could be no more natural than the unexpected eclipse or the double moon, was erasing everything that was left. He doubted that either Caulfield or Price had fallen victim to it.

He'd spent his life expanding on his father's work, bringing Arcadia Bay to heel, ensuring his family's legacy. It wasn't a job he'd asked for, but it was the job he'd received nonetheless, and he'd done it as well as he could. And now this… kid… had blown the whole thing up. She was a God-damned terrorist. None of it made sense, except for one thing. It had all started with Price.

He only had one play left, and it was terribly old-fashioned. He gripped the cigar between his teeth, picked up the pistol, ejected the magazine, started loading rounds from the box on his desk. It was slow work; his hands were shaking badly. But he supposed his great-grandfather would at least be proud that he was returning to the family's roots. On the other hand, the "personal investigation and security" firm which was presently tracking Caulfield's whereabouts for him was decidedly 21st century. Kids these days never went anywhere without their phones, and they all used credit cards for everything. With the right connections and a little time, you could find them anywhere.

He finished loading the gun, carefully set it back down on the desk, took a puff from the cigar. The storm should pass soon. He looked over at the black Bentley at the other end of the bunker, glad that he'd sprung for the fortified garage. Thanks for the warning, William, he thought. Your revenge is complete. Now I get mine.


A mile out of Arcadia Bay, a small animal ran out into the road, right in front of the truck. Chloe jerked the wheel, but it was too late. They both winced as they heard the thump of the truck tire, and, instinctively, Max rewound.

"Chloe, slow down. Critter in the road."

"OK." The truck slowed abruptly, and they watched a squirrel dash across the highway ahead.

Max frowned. "Shit. Guess I can still rewind."

Chloe looked over at her, surprised. "OK… so? That is bad, now?"

"I thought I got this power so that I could save you. If I still have it… maybe it means you're still in danger."

"Or you just get be a bad-ass time master from now on?"

"Maybe. I was actually hoping it would go away. It's exhausting, Chloe. I'm sick of having to decide whether to redo things, and I definitely don't want to stir up any more tornados. I just want to be a normal person again."

"Yeah, I hear you. As much as I love having a super-powered best friend, I have to admit the side effects are pretty brutal. Maybe it will go away… um, with time. If you don't use it."

"Yeah," Max said, unconvinced. She was worried.

They both knew that when they got to Seattle, they'd be surrounded non-stop by Max's family, her Seattle friends, and maybe the press if they got wind of living eye witnesses. It was too much to face, too soon to start a new life. They had a lot to mourn, and a lot to talk about, with their rather different memories of the past week.

They pulled over in a tiny town on the Nehalem river, not far from Arcadia Bay, which had a little motel. As they parked, a group of fire engines went screaming down the highway in the opposite direction, followed shortly by a couple of ambulances, and a big red truck labeled "Heavy Rescue". Good luck guys, Max thought. Hope you find somebody alive down there.

The motel clerk seemed, as yet, unaware that anything untoward had happened just a few miles down the road. "We have a room with two double beds available, does that work? Alternatively we have one with just a king."

"King." answered Chloe, without hesitation. Max smiled. It was still mid day, but after everything that had happened, curling up in Chloe's arms was the one and only thing that she wanted.

"I'll need a credit card," said the clerk.

"Oh, right, here you go," said Max, handing it over.

The room was on the second floor, with a decent view of the water. It even had a little balcony. "Maybe we should stay a while," Max said. "I could use a few days of peace and quiet."


Everything in Chloe's life was gone, except for Max and the truck. Max tried to convince herself that the blood of an entire town was not on her hands. Except that it was. Finally alone and out of danger, they just held on to each other, for a long time.

After a while, when the tears subsided, Max told Chloe the full story of her trips through time. It was a relief to tell someone about it all, and Chloe listened intently. She asked a lot of questions about William, from the other timeline. When Max got to the end, on the beach, she backtracked to one detail she'd left out. A happier memory amidst a sea of pain.

"One more thing. You're going to think this is funny. When you dared me to kiss you, and I did… I actually rewound and tried it again. Twice."

"Damn, extra hard core. Glad I rated a triple play."

"More like three strikes! I was hoping if I did it a little differently you wouldn't pull away and make that joke about texting Warren, but no luck."

"Ugh, now I feel like such an ass. Sorry Max, I was just hella surprised. Also that wasn't really a joke, I did text him."

"Like a day later!"

"I didn't have his number dude! I had a lot going on! Give a girl a break." Chloe paused, thinking. "But… you don't remember anything from the rest of that day, right, cuz you were with disabled-me? That sucks, that was a chill night."

"Well, I had a pretty chill night with the other you, anyway. We watched Blade Runner."

"Nerd alert! I'm like, so much cooler."

"You totally are. But that's not an easy memory for me, Chloe. Let's… just tell me your version."

Chloe filled in the gaps for Max, the two relatively uneventful nights they'd spent together that Max couldn't remember. Thursday night had been rough, Chloe was a wreck after finding Rachel, and they were both nervous about Jefferson and the oncoming storm.

When Chloe finished, Max said, "I'm still jealous of my other self, your version is a lot less fucking traumatic."

"Well, that was the point, right? I'm really sorry I let Prescott and Jefferson shoot me. Apparently."

"Let's not… talk about that part anymore. You're alive now. This is the timeline I want to remember."

"Right. Focus on the living. We need some good vibes after all this shit." She smiled. "For example, I dare you to kiss me."

Max leaned closer, but Chloe held up a finger, stopping her. "NO rewinds."

"No rewinds. Never again, with you."


Evening approached, and Chloe's stomach rumbled. "I'm starving, I wonder what there is to eat in this town."

Max got up and went over to the little desk in the motel room. "There's usually some pamphlets or something… here we go." She held up a stack of cards and brochures, then started to flip through them. "These are from all over, guess there isn't much right here. Whoah, this one's for the Two Whales." The front of the little brochure had a photo of the front of the diner, from the street outside, taking the iconic sign into view. "This photo is from, like, ten years ago!" She scanned the photo, picking out the little details that marked this as the Two Whales of her childhood. Then she looked at the windows. "Holy shit, Chloe… we're in this photo. It's fuzzy but… look here, we're in the booth by the window. And your dad too, he's in the next booth over, with some other guy, in a suit?"

Chloe grabbed the brochure. "Yeah, that's him. Wow, we're like… eight and nine, or so, looks like? Talk about a time trip. This guy my dad is sitting with… is… holy shit. Max, this is Sean Prescott. What the fuck was my dad doing hanging out with Sean fucking Prescott?!"

"I don't know, but… I don't think it matters anymore."

"I think it fucking matters! That guy is, or was, pure evil. Why would either of my parents have anything to do with him?! Besides, I guess, to pay for my crazy-expensive life support system when I'm a damned quadriplegic. So trippy. But still! Max, you should go back, I want to know what they're talking about!"

"What?! Chloe, if I even can go through this crappy photo, there's no guarantee I won't accidentally change something and ruin everything and… lose you again."

"Just don't do anything. I bet we were just drawing or something, that's what we always did at the diner. Just listen in. When you went back, with my dad, the second time… you were able to get back to our reality, right?"

Max stared at her friend. This was crazy. But she had to admit, she was curious. Sean Prescott, of all people. William hadn't been the kind of guy who would associate with… whatever Prescott actually was. A thug in an expensive suit? "OK, I'll try it. At least I know there are probably zillions of copies of this photo all over the place, in case I come back and I'm on Mars or something and have to go back and fix it."

She sat on the edge of the bed and focussed on the photo.