Book One:

The Illusion of Choice

Part One:

Bay Over Bae

October 11th, 2013 - Current Timeline

Max's right arm lay draped across Chloe's shoulders, yet, slung lifelessly in position, it offered little in way of support. Chloe bore the bulk of Max's weight through pure will and determination alone at this point. She hoisted the smaller girl up with her left arm wrapped around Max's back and holding tight to keep her friend from falling, but her muscles were straining, little strength remaining this far into their climb towards safety. With her right hand, Chloe clasped Max's listless hand that dangled from that lifeless arm over Chloe's shoulder. The grip didn't offer much in additional support, but the feel of Max's skin against her own, of Max's fingers within her fingers, granted Chloe some measure of solace against the fear pulsing through her. Yet that hand was so cold, and no matter how tight Chloe held on, she felt no grip in return from Max, no sign of strength from this girl who had given so much of herself over the past week just to keep Chloe's own burnt-out ass alive.

Don't think about that. Just hold on, and keep going.

Chloe knew if she relaxed either grip, the one around Max's back or the one holding to her hand, Max would have collapsed onto the trail; she was sure of it. Yet Chloe's arms hurt so much and her shoulders ached from Max's weight and the struggle of the hike. It should have been a fifteen-minute climb at most, but Chloe was fairly certain it had taken her nearly forty minutes to get this far up the trail. Her awkward posture wasn't doing Chloe's back any favors either. A great tension throbbed and spread down from her shoulders as Chloe kept herself hunched low to support her shorter friend.

Only a little bit further, she thought, yet the whole body strain of her task screamed at her, crying for her attention, and her lungs burned, unaccustomed to the long hike up the hill from the beach, weakened from years of smoking, and, moreover, just plain exhausted from the burden of bearing Max's weight for the entirety of the ascent. Max's legs moved without intention, as if echoing Chloe's climb up the trail, yet there was no spark within her. Max trudged along, a shadow of her former self, a husk that merely mimicked life, going through the motions, but with no strength of her own. Her eyes gave way no hint of recognition or consciousness, half-lidded, barely open, and without betraying any sign of awareness for the onslaught of the storm that raged around them.

The storm. That fucking monster. That Butterfly Effect wannabe, inexplicable, cock-sucking, mind-boggling, asshole of a Big Bad. That goddamn, no holds barred, piece of shit, capper to the motherfucker of all weeks. Goddamnit!

It's like the world had it out for her. No , she thought. Arcadia Bay has it out for me.

And of course it did. Didn't this shit-pit always have it out for her? Her best friend comes back into her life after five fucking years, sticks with her no matter how often Chloe goes and shoves her whole damned foot in her mouth spouting off at Max and taking her anger out on her at all the wrong damn times, and still that same friend even saves her damn life as if Chloe was actually worth the effort (and not once mind you, but a baffling number of times; which seems odd to Chloe since she'd managed to stay alive for the previous 19 years without so much effort), and yet when Chloe finally has a chance at something good, she has a chance to get justice for Rachel (fuck that, I want revenge), has a chance to be a part of something again, can even see that distant light of possible happiness in her future, what does Arcadia Bay go and do? It throws a mother-fucking tornado right in her path, a kaiju-sized monstrosity set to fuck up her world.

Of course, that behemoth would also destroy Arcadia Bay, which is what she had wanted right; to drop a bomb on this town and turn it into glass?

Yeah… fuck this town.

Even in her head it seemed more like bluster than honest enthusiasm. She hated Arcadia Bay, but what about Joyce? What about Justin? Sure, the town was a shitstain, but she used to have friends here, a life here… Max.

Oh shit. Can Max live with herself without Arcadia Bay? What about her friend, Kate? Is she safe in the hospital? Hell, Max even cares about the assholes like Victoria. If this motherfucker wipes out the Bay, no matter how much it might deserve it, what does that mean for Max?

The rain slashed into Chloe, stabbing down at her, whipped into a frenzy by the harsh winds. Thunder peeled from a not-so-distant flash of lightning splitting the storm-filled sky, and Chloe jolted from her thoughts. None of that mattered right now. Not the Bay, not Victoria or Kate, or even Justin or Joyce; not even Max after the storm. Right now only one thing mattered: Chloe had to get Max to safety.

Chloe could just discern the dirt path before her, but barely, as the torrential rain blurred her vision, pounding into her and dripping from her blue locks and down over her eyes creating a watery veil that drowned out the world. She fought the urge to let go of Max's hand, to wipe the beading water from her eyes, but she knew that if she did, Max would collapse. They were almost to the lighthouse.

"We'll be safe at the lighthouse."

Those were Max's words, the Other Max's, the one that had replaced her Max after the Vortex party; after Max told her about jumping through her photo.

And how does that even work? Chloe thought. What fucking bizarro world are you in, Price?

But that didn't matter either. Max Caulfield, hipster waif extraordinaire, could rewind time. She could travel through goddamn photos. Hell, she could even stop time, right? That's what she'd said about Kate and the roof. She'd fucking stopped time. She'd seen alternate realities. She was a mother-fucking Time Warrior.

So if Max Caulfield says we'll be safe at the lighthouse, I get Max-fucking-Caulfield to the motherfucking lighthouse.

A few more steps. She was almost there. But what then? She needed Max.

"Come on, Max," Chloe yelled against the chaos of the storm. "We're almost there. Please wake up!"

So close. The trail began to level off. Chloe could see the bench up ahead, and the lighthouse looming over it – the shell of the lighthouse. Where the hell had the top of the lighthouse gone? Hmm… Didn't matter. Mystery for another time. She could see the bench below it, oddly still intact, but the storm had done a number on the lookout itself. Between downed trees, collapsed cliffsides, and – fuck – was that a boat?

Yeah, no bench for Chloe and Max. We're not reaching that.

"Max, come on now!"

Chloe bested the trail, topping the hill and reaching the flat ground of the lookout point – the flat debris-cluttered ground.

Okay, so no bench, no lighthouse, but we're here. We made it. Take that, Hill. Try to wind and best me, will you.

Chloe caught her breath, then scanned her surroundings, looking for the safest place to take cover. On her right loomed the broken lighthouse, the collapsed cliffside, the shattered remains for the storage shed at the foot of the lighthouse, downed trees, oh, and that boat. Yeah, not going that way.

On her left, more woods.

Straight ahead of her, lay the open clearing, replete with scattered limbs, random concrete blocks, stray scraps of rebar, and all sorts of wonderful potential projectiles. Nothing like a debris field for taking shelter from a storm, eh?

Of course, there didn't appear to be any better options either, and if Max Caulfield said they'd be safe at the lighthouse, well, Chloe figured she might as well take the word of the time traveler. What other choice did she have, really?

"Don't worry, we'll be okay," she said, not sure if she was trying to assure Max or herself, although with Max lost in what Chloe could only guess was one long-ass vision, it seemed more likely that assurance had been for her own benefit. Whatever. Chloe supposed it didn't matter either way. She collapsed to the ground in a heap, taking Max with her. She didn't have the strength to carry her any further – not that there was any place to go from here.

Rocking back from her hands and propping an elbow against her raised knee, Chloe looked over to her friend. Surprisingly, Max was supporting herself, crouched on all fours, propped on her hands and knees. That was a good thing, right? That meant Max was coming around?

"Max?" Chloe asked. "Max, can you hear me? Please say something."

Max rolled back onto her haunches and spoke for the first time since Chloe had hauled her ass off the beach. Max was coming around again. Thank whatever kaiju, Lovecraftian elder god was behind this mindfuck of a week.

"Chloe," Max asked, more than said, as if seeking assurance that she was still there. "I… I must have passed out," she continued in a stammer. "Sorry."

Why the fuck is she apologizing, again? Damnit, Max. No time for that now. Max was awake and that was all that mattered.

"Oh, thank god," Chloe said. "Don't you ever do that again, okay?" Her friend was back. Max was back. She wasn't alone anymore and Max was okay. Next up, a giant tornado monster. No biggie.

"I swear…" Max started, rolling forward towards her. Chloe met her halfway, grabbing her arm and helping her to her feet as Max continued on. "... but that nightmare was so real… was so horrible."

Where had she been? What had Max seen now? When the fuck would this nightmare week just leave them the hell alone?

As Chloe tried to wrap her mind around the possibilities, her friend wobbled forward on shaky legs towards the cliff's edge. Damn it, Max. Regain your sea legs first!

Chloe knew that she should say something; that she should stop her friend, grab her before she wandered too close to the edge, but she also saw exactly the monstrosity at which Max was looking; the view that awaited beyond the steep fall of the cliff and the battered remains of the wooden guardrails.

The storm.

It dominated the view, a seething, angry vortex the likes of which the world had never seen. Was there even a classification for a tornado this size? Debris cycled around it, orbiting it in gradual decay, cycling ever closer drawn in by the fierce gravity of this looming horror, this abomination of the laws of physics. Where it met the bay, the sea surged up into the vortex, adding the enmity of its waves to the violence of the cyclone; and just beyond lay the town itself, waiting as the winds and waters and debris, the death and destruction, crept ever, inexorably forward. There was no riding out this storm. It would consume Arcadia Bay whole.

"This is my storm," Max said, gesturing towards the encroaching calamity, her voice cracking under the enormity of what she was seeing… and feeling. Max, don't you dare feel guilty for this.

"I caused this," her friend continued. "I caused all of this."

Fuck. There it is; that Caulfield guilt.

"I changed fate and destiny so much that… I actually did alter the course of everything." Max turned to Chloe then, as Chloe still fought to find anything she could say to help Max, to stop this self-blame spiral.

I knew I shouldn't have mentioned the butterfly effect. That Wally fucker either. Neither of us needed to put that sort of causality in Max's self-hating head. Damnit, Chloe. Think before you speak. Or just speak. Say something. Your friend is spiraling. Anything. Just words, Chloe. Use words.

Max stumbled back towards the cliff as if she couldn't let herself rest by Chloe; she couldn't grant herself the relief of a friend's comfort. No, she had to keep facing that damned tornado, keep blaming herself for that storm, and no one was better at blaming themself than Max Caulfield. "And all I really created was just death and destruction!"

Yep, no one better than Max. And why those words? Death and Destruction. Hadn't Chloe just been thinking that same damn thing?

Well, fuck that! Doesn't matter. No more sitting on the sidelines, Chloe. You stop this shit, now.

Chloe stepped up to Max, grabbing her arm, offering what little comfort she could and turning Max towards her until she was looking straight down into those guilt-ridden, beautiful blue eyes.

"Fuck all of that, okay," Chloe said. "You were given a power. You didn't ask for it… and you saved me."

And she had. She had saved Chloe in so many ways. She hadn't just saved her miserable life, not just, not just in the literal sense. She had saved her. Max had given her hope again and Chloe Price would be damned if she was going to let Max be crushed under the consequences of that action.

"Which had to happen," Chloe continued – only to stop mid sentence.

Max wasn't facing her anymore. Chloe could no longer see down into those blue eyes. No, Max clutched at her head and fell to her knees back to the drenched earth, sinking into the damp mud-streaked clearing of the lookout point.

"Fuck, Max! What now?"

Chloe fell to her knees beside her friend, placing her hands to Max's cheeks and tilting Max's face towards hers. Blood streamed from Max's nose, fresh rivulets cascading over her lips, thinned by the rain soaking and bathing them both.

"Another rewind? A vision?"

Max couldn't respond. Her eyes glazed over and she screamed, biting down into her lower lip and falling over out of Chloe's grasp, rolling into a fetal position in the mud. Chloe's heart raced and her entire body tensed as she watched her friend spasm in pain, unable to do anything to ease her suffering.

"Shit, Max! Speak to me!"

Max clenched and unclenched, as she remained curled still into her fetal ball, seemingly struggling against rapid waves of pain rolling through her entire system. Her eyes winced shut and she bit harder down on her lip and Chloe could see that lower lip starting to split. She clutched Max's jaw, attempting to pry it open before she bit down too deep, and sweet hell, how was Max this strong? Chloe pulled harder, fighting against Max's straining body, until at last her friend began to ease up, and the rigid violence that had seized over her gradually lessened and faded away.

Chloe removed her grip from Max's chin, as Max's eyes opened, and looked up at her, glassy and afraid.

"Chloe…" she asked, her voice feeble and soft. Before she could continue, Max jerked abruptly to the side, her hands once more to her head.

"Max, damnit! Stay with me!"

Chloe hugged herself over the smaller girl, shielding her from the torrential rain, wiping her own hands across Max's brow as she tried to get a good look at her. She could see tears mixing with the rain streaks running down Max's cheeks. Blood still gushed from her nose, more than Chloe had ever seen from Max's previous episodes. Then, another lightning flash, another clap of thunder, and Max doubled over yet even deeper and now the blood wasn't only trickling from Max's nose, but from her eyes as well.

"What's happening?" Chloe asked. This was new; this was different; and this was altogether terrifying. How much more could Max take?

Max blinked the tears and blood and rain from her eyes, running her palm down her face to clear her vision and leaving watery red smears in the wake of her hand. Her jaw unclenched, and she took in a stuttering breath, then met Chloe's gaze.

"We don't know. Not exactly." Max relaxed momentarily into her arms, and a feeling of relief flooded over Chloe. Perhaps the worst of it was over. But what was it?

"Okay... try the non-exact version."

"One you called it a hard return. Another called it a save point."

"A save point?"

"Doesn't matter, Chlo."

"Wait," Chloe jumped in, seizing on what Max had just said. "One me?"

"A future Chloe. Another Chloe. No matter. That version of you is gone. Reset."

"Reset?"

Come on, Chloe. Stop just repeating what she's saying. Yet, try as she might, Chloe was baffled and couldn't find any other words. This wasn't a rewind. This wasn't a photo jump. What had Max done? Was this even still her Max?

"I'm stuck, Chloe. No matter what I choose, we always end up back here."

Max took another dab at her eyes, blood pooling against her lower eyelids, and thin trails leaking from her tear ducts. Flinging the blood from her hands, Max paused watching it splatter against the mud and the surrounding puddles.

Chloe snapped her fingers. "Back to me, mate. Back to your Captain." Her heart eased a little as the smaller girl refocused her attention back to her. "We'll get through this." It didn't matter if it was her Max, did it? They were all her Max, and she'd be damned if she was going to sit here and let any Max suffer.

Max's lips parted to speak, then paused. She averted her gaze, swallowing back whatever words she had intended to say.

"What is it?"

"I don't think we will. I don't think I can get through this. I'm sorry. I know I'm supposed to have the answers; that I'm supposed to be… to be Super-Max, but… I… I don't feel super."

"You don't have to be. You're Max Caulfield. You are the strongest person I know, rewind or no rewind. And you're not alone, Max. I'm right here."

"They're getting harder, Chloe. More painful." Max gestured to her blood-streaked face. She hesitated biting back her next words, but Chloe knew if you gave Max silence, if you waited her out, she'd inevitably crack. Another moment, another flash of lightning, Max jumping at the light and thunder, and finally she continued.

"If the timeline resets again… if I come back here again… I'm… I'm not sure I can survive."