It was a week - week and a half or so - before Max returned to Arcadia Bay.

Chloe didn't blame her for not immediately rushing back as soon as she made contact with her parents. Ryan and Vanessa were practically blind with panicked worry by the time their daughter let them know that she was still alive. They all but demanded she come home, afterwards.

And when Max did return to Seattle, they nearly convinced her to stay.

Chloe was relieved, of course, that Max came back. Came back to Arcadia Bay, but more importantly, came back to her. At the same time...

...I'd be lying if denied saying I fucking wish they'd chained you down to the bed...

The mental image of that gave Chloe pause, prompted a blush...

...ahem. If they kept you away. From Arcadia Bay, from...me From everything we've done to you. You don't owe us anything Max. If anything...we should be throwing you a parade, and making every day Max Caulfield Is Absolutely Sexy Plus Awesome Day.

But she did come back. And Chloe's heart lept with absolute joy, all the same. The current status of their relationship was still not entirely sussed out, nor understood, but neither were in any rush it. No sudden declarations of undying love, no falling into bed, consumed with raging lust.

Chloe found it nice, honestly. Almost a relief. There were kisses, and cuddles, and hugs. Knowing giggles, googly eyes and more hand holding than she knew what to do with. But nothing else beyond that. Nothing past second base, at least. Like there wasn't any pressure to take it further, because God knows there was so much more to be doing.

Every day she went out, looking for a job to be a part of, a way to help out. Something to volunteer for. Didn't matter what; no matter how 'beneath her' she might have initially thought it to be, no matter how dirty, or petty, or repetitive, she was there. Setting up shelters, clearing rubble, telling stories and giving comfort and piggyback rides to the kids.

Especially the ones who lost a parent.

Or both of them.

But there were reasons to celebrate, certainly. Kate Marsh was alive and safe, for starters. Her parents picked her up on Thursday evening, and they were gone before the weather turned dangerous.

Fucking right on, Bible Girl, for turning around, demanding your folks bring you back to town so you can help with the recovery. You rock!

And Victoria Chase stayed in town, too. Chloe unkindly assumed she was going to take off, shout "Fuck you very much, Arcadia Bay!" and run off to the next great chapter of her fabulous little life. But no.

She stayed as well.

God knows she didn't have to, but she and Max had their own little recovery clique going on. It made Chloe jealous sometimes, feel powerless on more than one occasion, that there were ways in which Victoria was able to support her, share empathy, that Chloe couldn't. Both of them suffered at the hands of Mark Jefferson. Both of the grieved, in their own separate ways for Nathan Prescott; for Victoria, Nathan was a complicated, misunderstood fragile soul, a man-child manipulated unfairly by forces far greater than himself. More than that, he was a friend. With Max, he was the antagonist turned misunderstood victim, who gave a heartbreaking apology in his last and darkest hour.

Now he'd never have a chance to redeem himself for his crimes.

Forgiveness did not come so easily for Chloe...

Boo hoo hoo! Rich Asshole is still Rich Asshole. Guy almost punched my ticket in the school bathroom. Guy did drug and try to rape me...I mean, I did kinda put myself in a bad situation, going with him to his room, trying to shake him down, but FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE! Kate Marsh didn't ask for any of that shit though, and there's that on his head as well. But above all else...

...he killed Rachel!

But...

He's never gonna get a chance to make amends. Guy like that, probably'd look at me, and think I had the biggest, brightest gift in the whole fucking world. I get the chance to clean up the mess I made. Funny, the shit you appreciate. All a matter of perspective.

Still, by and large, the days cost Max. Each and every one of them depleting what few precious mental reserves she possessed, barely recharged after her temporary sojourn to Seattle. For every joyful, tear-filled reunion or shared renewal of strength with Kate and Victoria, for every report that Joyce, despite losing the use of her legs, was otherwise going to make a full recovery, for every serendipitous discovery that Pompidou was still alive, and actually behaving himself while he patiently waited for his master, there was an equal, if not excessive measure of defeats.

Warren was still in a coma, one he might never wake up from. But at least he still had a chance. That was more than could be said for Justin and Brooke, Dana, and Zach.

Chloe desperately tried to keep Max from going to see all the bodies, carefully extracted from the rubble, then laid out on tarps as they were prepared for family identification and eventual burial. Tried to convince her to stay away from the daily tally lists at the edge of the temporary housing camp, the ones that were updated with confirmed fatalities

But every day she would go and stare at them. Torment herself. Burn each and every name into her mind, as the column of "missing" shrunk, and "dead" grew.

One day, it was too much for her. She lost it, completely and totally, out in public. Fell to her knees, and started to shriek hysterically about how it was all her fault.

The next month after that was pure hell. Max couldn't be trusted to left alone on her own, that much was certain. Chloe, Kate and Victoria all took turns staying with her. Even David. They all told themselves it was just about comfort and support, taking care of family and community.

Chloe knew the truth, even if no one else wanted to say it.

It was a deathwatch! We...oh God Max, you think I'm important? How do you think we'd all feel if you...YOU of all people, finally gave up hope? Gave in? You call me a lynchpin...

Every day, when Chloe wasn't out there, somehow helping to rebuild, she was with Max, giving her whatever she needed. Letting her run around and around in emotional circles, or rest her head on a lap, while she stared off into space for hours. And every minute that Chloe that apart from her, she pushed down the burning, acrid fear that when she made it back to the FEMA trailer they shared...that would be the day she found out that Max finally ended it all.

But they managed to stabilize Max, help see her past the worst of it. There were social workers, and they had trained, precision words. And prescription drugs. And Chloe worked through the black market that had grown in the area, using it to get her weed, at least until the medical card came through.

Each night, when they went to bed, she'd hold Max close against her, spooning her tight, and whisper against her ear. "Gonna get through this, babe. You just see. Every day, it gets closer. Day we get through this."

There were even some nights Chloe actually believed the words, herself.

2014

Chloe clenched her jaw tightly, working it back and forth as she slowly stalked back towards the trailer. It'd been months now, and construction and rebuilding were still sporadic at best, as relief funds were tied up in red tape. On top of evetythinf else, the Prescott family recently pulled out in the wake of the devastation and scandal.

As far as Chloe was concerned, it was the best damn thing to come out of the storm, but she was one of the few who saw it that way. Love them or hate them, the Prescotts had money. Power. Roots deep in the tarry heart of the old town, and their up and abandoning Arcadia Bay to pursue greener pastures elsewhere demoralized many of the townspeople still left alive.

She stomped through the late winter snows, a flyer all but crumbled in her angry fist. She couldn't even bring herself to read it again, but at the same time she couldn't bear to part with it. There was an old saying, that holding onto anger was like hanging on to a burning coal.

...probably a good point. But what happens if you're a sick bitch who kind of likes the pain, huh?

Still, she'd managed to keep busy. Found a temp job with one of the construction crews. Able to give as well as she took, what with the macho assholes and their swagger, she eventually earned their grudging respect after a few weeks. Maybe she didn't have the muscles - although God knows she was putting them on now! - or the physical endurance, but she had the spirit. The spit and piss. The gave her credit for that much.

She'd never tell anyone, but she was starting to believe that aside from the Prescott's withdraw, the storm itself was also the best thing to happen to Arcadia Bay.

Scourge the filth, tear down the decay, build it all up, bright, shiny and new. The right way, this time. Ha! Shit...look at me...I sound like one of those crazy apocalypse freaks, talking how the storm was God's wrath.

Finally, she made it to the trailer she shared with Max, David, and her Mom. Smashing the snow off her boots, she carefully unlaced them, put them on the matt to the side. Groaned softly and rubbed her back.

Goddamn...another twelve hours without a real break. Man, work fucking sucks! But at least now I know what the hell I'm talking about. I know a lot better than the rich bitches from Blackwell. Funny thing, how that's the big project they got us working on. Housing, stores, library, yeah, whatever, but the rich prep school, YUP! That gets priority. Jesus fuck...

"Hey," Chloe called out, in a tired voice. "I'm home. Wee."

"Welcome back, darlin'!" her Mom called out. She'd only just been discharged from the hospital a couple weeks earlier. Confined to a wheelchair, probably for life, but at least the rest of her body worked fine, above the waist. Wasn't letting it get her down any. She kept swearing blind that she was going to return to waitressing once the Two Whales was rebuilt.

Shades of...that other Chloe. The one Max told me about. God Above, you have a sick sense of humor sometimes!

Chloe leaned in to plant a tender kiss on the top of her mother's head, before she held out a tired, lightly shaking fist. "Hey Big D." she whispered to David. He returned the fist bump, smiled softly and nodded. "Hey Little C."

Their relationship had vastly improved since the storm; it was a way more buddy-buddy than father-daughter, but Chloe had to give credit where credit was due. He came through. He led the cops, helped take down Jefferson. Rescued Victoria, Brought justice for Rachel. For all of that alone, she'd be eternally grateful.

But he kept on giving, kept on doing better.

And I was so certain you were gonna be a fucking disappointment...

She figured it was just a matter of time before the anger returned in full, the boiling alienation. The traumas he'd not been able to leave behind on the battlefield. If life, when quiet and peaceful, tested David Madsen and found him wanting, then surely the weight of adversity in post-Tornado Arcadia Bay would drag him down completely.

Right?

But the opposite happened. Oh sure, it helped, it helped a lot that he took advantage of the same councilors and social service workers that Max did. Attended anger management meetings, helped lead survivors groups. But as she got to know him, really, truly know him, she saw it was always about control. Or rather, the feeling that he had control over his life.

Or maybe realizing how much control is really just an illusion, and you have to accept you can only deal with what you can deal with? Agh...damn, I'm not a philosopher...

But helping to rebuild, joining the local watches, spending those first early days keeping looting down to a bare minimum...it gave him that sense of control. Of confidence. Inculcated a nascent ability at long last, for working in a team. The ability that he'd otherwise lacked his entire life up to this point.

Gotta hand it to you, David. You done did good. Heh...who the fuck thought we'd actually kinda sorta start getting along?

"Chloe...sit. Eat. Now. I know it's not much, but at least it's hot, and lord knows you're thin as a rail." Joyce commanded.

Chloe snorted, and murmured, "Yes'm." her lips curling in a devilish smile. She plopped down on the folding chair, removing her beanie. Her hair was growing out, and without ready access to blue dye, blond roots were showing. She kept meaning to cut it, maybe even shave it all off entirely, but when the hell did she have the time?

She furiously attacked the tuna noodle casserole that was laid out before her. As she ate, David pipped up.

"So uh...Chloe. Saw you working today, as I was passing by Blackwell. I waved and called out, but I don't think you heard me."

"Mmmmph? Oh...s'at youf? S'ought ah herd muh naym." She paused, chewing hard through the oversized mouthful, washing it down with a large gulp of water. "Sorry. Yeah, they started putting me on rivet detail. Fuckers are loud, and..." she shook out her aching hands. "Anyhow. Yeah, sorry. Woulda waved back, if I knew it was you."

He chuckled. "I know...I know. Just...proud of you. You know that? I know you don't need to hear it from me but...you're really something, Chloe. I know it's still new, you and me getting along like this, but I just wanted to say...uh...it's pretty damn great and..." He rubbed the back of his head, blushing.

She leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder for just a few seconds. "Yeah. It is. Weird, but...nice. But...but don't go thinking I've gone fucking soft." She rose up, smirked wryly, and viciously stabbed another piece of food. "Believe me, soon as things get back to normal, really normal, I'm immediately returning to my previously selfish and irredeemably childish ways. After all...I'm still Chloe Price. Got an image to uphold."

She then glanced over at a copy of the flyer on the table, another copy of the one she was still holding in her other hand.

"Assuming anything ever goes back to normal again. Shit, I see you guys got the notice too, huh?"

David nodded grimly. "Can't believe they'd even think about doing it."

Joyce captured her lower lip between her teeth, worrying at it before speaking, "People are just...just feeling vulnerable. Scared. They've had one blow after the other, and after the Prescotts left...of course they're rattled. It'll work out though. Too much blood and history for people to just give up. You'll see. People understand what's at stake."

She paused for a few seconds, and then gave Chloe and David a meaningful look. "Might understand more with a couple of extra friendly faces in the audience showing their support."

"Uuuugh." Chloe murmured, giving a heavy, dramatic roll of her eyes. "Making the epic flaw of assuming I'm a friendly face, Mom." She quickly scarfed down her remaining dinner, and started to open her mouth to say something. Thought better of it and then held up a hand, pointing over to the other half of the trailer, the one partitioned off with a curtain. Then pantomimed hugging herself and smiled as she swallowed hard.

Chloe pushed the curtain aside, just enough for her to pass across, and then pulled it back behind her. The room was completely unlit, save for the soft glow emanating from a tablet perched on Max's chest, as she did what she did most days and nights now: binge watch TV.

Thank God the Federal Government declared wifi a basic human right or something...

The brunette was stretched out on the ratty sofa that dominated the tiny slice that could be laughingly called the living room of the section of trailer they shared together.

Max herself had seen better days. Her eyes were gaunt, sunken in, hair longer now, but slightly unkempt at all times. She wasn't eating much, sleeping less, and it showed. While not dangerously emaciated, she was never plump to begin with; these days Chloe worried a hug would snap her in half.

But despite it all, Max still lit up when her gaze traveled up and beheld the blonde-blunette. That light in her eyes might be a guttering, sparking ember, but seeing it always put a spring in Chloe's step. Gave her hope, made every little thing she put up with in life right now worthwhile.

Slowly, achingly, she lowered herself onto the couch as Max's legs retracted to give her space. Turned, smirked like everything was just fine, and said, "Hey babe. How it go today? It - ah. DId it work out? Helping with the daycare and stuff?"

Chloe knew the answer, even before the question left her lips. Still, it seemed cold not to ask, and she always hoped against hope that today would be the day she'd be surprised. That Max would turn the corner.

"N-no. I - um." Max hugged the tablet to her chest, bowed her head. "Tried, Chloe. I promise. I did. I thought it would be easier, you know? With just kids. Just the kids, not the adults. And it was...was working out. Maybe? I think...for an hour or two. But some of those kids don't have a Mommy, or a Daddy anymore...or sisters or brothers or aunts or uncles or..."

She gave a sharp, singular sniff. "Too much, Chloe. Was too much. What was I supposed to say to them?" She shook her head sharply, covered her face with her hands, choking back another sob.

Chloe tried to gloss over things as painlessly as possible. "S'okay, sweetie. It's...okay. Uhhh...just...please don't..."

They'd been through this a thousand times before. Chloe would beg her not to blame herself. That it wasn't her fault. They both understood what was at stake, both embraced, however reluctantly, the ultimate sacrifice that needed to be made.

Not your fault the wind ripped the picture away. And then you lost your powers. I mean...what the fuck, right? Maybe we just need to accept that Arcadia Bay was always doomed, no matter what. Otherwise, why give you powers, and then take them away. Right as you try and stop the storm, they go byebye. Doesn't seem like a coincidence to me.

She'd never actually say it to her, not in those exact words. She wasn't an absolute moron. And she'd never tell anyone else, but Chloe was becoming perversely attached to the notion that reducing Arcadia Bay to rubble had its upsides as well. A way to sweep the board clean, build it fresh, build it right.

I'm a fucking horrible human being. And these are the kind of horrible human being thoughts you never tell anyone else you're having.

"So -uh. Whatcha watching, Max?" Chloe inquired. She knew the other girl would be eager to switch to safer topics.

The tablet was passed over, and her eyes went wide with realization. "Doctor Who? This is Doctor Who, right? Uhhh..errrr." She laughed nervously. "Strikes a little close to home, doesn't it?"

Max shrugged, and gave a half-hearted laugh. "The shrink, he...he called it something like...phobia confrontation or..or something. Desensitization? I mean, I can't...can't talk to him about all, or even most of my issues, so I - I guess I'm taking his ideas and applying them?"

"Oh yeah? Is it...ah...z'it working?"

The other girl reached out, retrieving a fresh joint from her prescription case, and placed her lips around it, muttering. "Does when I watch it while smoking weed. But...it might just be the weed, I guess." The Zippo lighter, retrieved from the nearby wire spool that served as a makeshift coffee table, quickly lit up. Taking a long, needful drag, she then shyly reached out, pulling Chloe close, kissing her, and shotgunning the smoke into her lungs.

As much as Chloe completely loved that sort of thing, the kiss was still an awkward one. Their relationship seemed to be stuck in amber. They weren't willing to give up on a romance, but neither of them were sure how to proceed, take it to the next level. Max was riddled with guilt and insecurity, the likes of which Chloe never witnessed before. In her darker moments, Max outright said that she was was keeping herself distant because she was afraid...

"...if I get any closer to you...you're gonna see what a fraud I am, Che! I'm not that brave hero you thought I was. I...I don't remember how to be her. Can't figure out how I was that strong in the first place. I'm...not worthy. Just gonna drag you down, Chloe. Right when you're finally rising up...just gonna drag you down."

Chloe wouldn't believe a word of it herself, did her best to keep Max from doing likewise. She treated Max like a princess, like the most precious person in her small little world. It was easy, because it was true. Cultivating patience became an effortless thing...at least when it came to her darling photo nerd. Everything else in the world though, she was still a pretty unrepentant bitch about.

Well...maybe not everything.

"Mayyybe..." Chloe started. "If we combined it with one of my awesome-sauce foot rubs." She reached over, grabbing Max's feet and plopping them into her lap. It got a rare warm smile from the brunette, who took another few puffs, and shyly whispered. "Not gonna say no."

Max's feet were pretty, just like her. Well, Max wasn't merely pretty, not in Chloe's eyes, but feet couldn't be gorgeous. It was just one of those unwritten rules of the universe. They could be cute, they could be pretty. They could even be sexy...

...you know, if that's your thing. Not judging.

But gorgeous? No.

Max visibly relaxed. Chloe wanted to believe it was more than just the drugs that were responsible.

"Mmmmmm. Needed this. Th-thank you. Che." Max said. The expression on her face was half-embarrassed, half-weepy. She clearly wanted to enjoy the contact more, but there was still that same barrier between the two of them. The critical self-judgement, the feelings of unworthiness.

Chloe said nothing at first, simply got to work, ignoring the throbbing ache already roiling up and down her fingers.

Another minute, and Max inquired. "I hear you talking with your Mom and David about...special town meeting tonight? What's up with that?"

Chloe groaned low in the back of her throat, slowly shook her head as she focused on the arch of Max's soles. "Yeah. Sean Prescott pulls up the tent-stakes, says "Fuck ya later, Arcadia Bay!" and now everyone's worried the tax base is gonna collapse if folks get scared and bail, chasing after their former lord and master. Won't be enough money to make rebuilding worthwhile, starts a vicious cycle. So I guess folks are talking about just cutting to the chase, disincorporating the town and letting Lincoln County run the whole damn show as an unincorporated village. You know. All for the sake of fucking Blackwell, assuming they decide to keep going, too. If not, then I guess the only thing Arcadia Bay'll be doing is generating hipster tumbleweeds...or something."

Max blinked. Looking up at the grey and dingy ceiling, she finished off the rest of the joint, and breathed out slowly, speaking in a hazy, distant tone. "That's...God. Fucking awful. People just...giving up like that. After everything they've been doing to try and pull the town together." She propped herself up on her elbows. "After...everything you've been doing, Chloe."

Chloe grunted. "Oh come on, you make it sound like a goddamn personal affront. People are people. Yeah, maybe there are some good ones, and maybe for a little while, people can not be so amazingly horrible, but by and large? They suck shit so hard. So, Fucking, Hard."

A small portion of that old Caulfield intensity reached Max's eyes. She pulled her feet from Chloe's lap, took her hand, and looked straight at her. "I...I'd go. I'd go, and I'd tell them...that they can't! That...Chloe. Chloe!" Tears started to splash down her cheeks.

She clung to Chloe's side. "If they leave...that's it. Arcadia Bay is dead...and I...I killed it. I killed it!" She wiped her eyes quickly, and got up to her feet, pacing with agitation. "I'd go...I'd go, I would. But I...can't. Can't go, Chloe. Not with all those people around. Just can't. I don't want to ask you but...maybe? You?"

Taking a long, deep, cleansing breath, Chloe rose up. Reached out, stroked Max's face, brushing away a few more fresh tears with her thumb. Gave her a gentle headbutt and whispered. "Move me onto any black square. Use me any time you want."

Max gave a choked, wet laugh, and in a shuddering voice, stated, "Don't even know what that means, Che."

"Means I'm yours to command as you please, M'lady." Chloe reached up, kissing Max's hand gallantly. "That, and it's an old Yes song lyric. Not my usual style, but..."

"Ha...ha ha ha!" Max laughed, equal parts disconsolate and happy. "To-to-totally sound like your Dad, just then. Like William."

Chloe bowed her head, but smiled all the same. Waited a few seconds before asking.

"This is super important to you, isn't it?"

Max could only nod in silence.

"Go. Sit. Curl back up with Doctor Who. It's one of the Billie Piper episodes, and I know I'd be staring at her all day if I could, too." Chloe gave a wink and leaned in to kiss her, a kiss Max gratefully accepted.

"Tell my Mom there's bail money in the cookie jar, just in case."

Max all but jumped onto her, arms and legs clinging around her tight. "Th-th-thank youuu. Oh God Chloe, Thank you..."

Chloe lingered for a few minutes more, cuddling Max in her lap, making sure she was calming down, that she was going to be okay, before finally leaving Max to...whatever few things in life Max still found some comfort in. She wasn't going to begrudge her a damn thing.

Really, it was good to see her actually showing passion about something, after so long. Some spirit, fight. Chloe was more than happy to be her knight champion. That was easy. It was a god damn pleasure and a privilege.

I mean...Jesus, I don't care that much about it. I'm just doing this for her. Fuckhead loser hick white trash assholes...just wanna quit. Go and quit and run away. Run away! Fine! After all we were starting to do here. After we came together, and made something, took care of each other. Maybe found some hope, maybe found a new path to go down. Rebuild ourselves into something more than the fucking joke of a ghost town we were before. The Prescott's personal plaything.

Chloe rose up, suppressing the soft, vicious snarl building in her throat. Made sure to hide her venomous expression from Max.

I don't care! I don't...I'm not their Mommy! I can't carry all of them on my back. I mean sure! Who cares, I just spent like twelve hours a day, every day, for like five months, doing nothing but working to get this town back on its feet. Who cares that Max and I tried to save them, continue to try, each and every fucking day! Who gives one rats ass that they're just taking this one last chance to reach for the stars, and they're throwing it away, and...

She turned to the filthy, ancient mirror stuck to the wall, Something she fished out of American Rust a few weeks back.

Stared hard, and made a startling realization.

"Fuck! Maybe I do. Damnit!"

With grim determination, Chloe stuck her skater beanie back on her head and pulled down hard. Strode out into the kitchen with an exaggerated swagger, and started to walk past the table. Playfully swatting David on the back of the head, she murmured, "C'mon Big D. Time for us to boldly ride."

David glared at her at first, reactively. An instinctive, angry snarl that quickly morphed into a smirk, and then an understanding nod.

"Chloe?" Joyce asked, tilting her head quizzically.

"Off to the meeting, Mom. Don't wait up. If these dickheads wanna rage-quit, fine by me. But they're not gonna do it without a Chloe-bomb getting dropped on their fool heads first."

Joyce laughed, despite herself. "Chloe Price, what does any of that even mean?"

She glanced back over her shoulder, nodding again to David, who already had his jacket on, grabbing the keys to the truck. Turning back, Chloe answered, "No clue. Sounds good though, right? All I know is maybe I still hate this shitburg excuse for a fishing village stuck in yestersuck, but damnit, people I love seem to think it's worth fighting for. Community pride by proxy'll just have to do."

She and David strode out the door and into the night.

A/N: Hi kids!

Thanks for your support thus far! And to think, I originally planned on this being less than 10K altogether! So yeah, that's obviously not happening.

Also, by the way? How the hell did people research shit before the Internet? I mean...technically, I know the answer to that question because I went to library school, but SERIOUSLY? How did they stand it? I make mention of this because of how easy it is to look up things now, like disincorporation. We really take for granted how easy it is to acquire minutia on this day and age.

Btw, I meant to mention this in Chapter 1, but this series is more or less dedicated to RED78910. From day one, he was hardcore into the notion that Arcadia Bay was always meant to be destroyed. That this would be its and kindest fate. I kind of busted his chops a little bit for that, but he got to turn right back around and bust on mine after Ep 5. Because I am totally on board with that notion now, and I guess this series is my way of exploring that concept.

Have a great weekend, folks!