"Oh yeah Maxxy, I totally get it! I was thinking the same thing just the other week!"

Max sincerely doubted that. Courtney didn't seem the type to have such strong opinions on the Ninth Doctor.

"So, uhm, thanks for bringing me my course work. Although you didn't have to DO it all for me….."

"It's no problem Maxxy. I'm always happy to help one of my best friends!"

Over in the other bed, Chloe's eye started twitching.

"So, uhm, this was a really nice visit and it was great to see you but im getting kinda tired…."

"Oh did you need another pillow? Blanket?" Courtney smiled so hopefully that Max almost felt bad.

"Thanks, but I just need to rest."

Courtney looked down at her, stepford smile not budging an inch.

"Alone," Max emphasized.

Courtney turned to Chloe with a raised eyebrow. "Well, go on then. Maxxy wants to be-"

"Get the fuck out before I set you on fire."

"Catch you later Maxxy!" Courtney started leaving with the first word, the door closing on the last.

"Thank you, Chloe! What on earth did she want?!"

Courtney had arrived as visiting hours started, just after Max and Chloe woke. In the hour and a half she had been there, she had never quite gotten around to explaining why. It would have taken half a minute to drop off her schoolwork, but Courtney had insisted on striking up one halting, awkward conversation after another. All about vapid topics neither Max nor Chloe had any knowledge of or interest in.

"No idea dude, I thought for sure she would wander off once you started nerding out all over her. But she just kept agreeing with whatever you said."

"It was so creepy."

"You didn't like having someone suck up to you, Maxxy?"

The photographer shuddered. "Don't get me started on the weird nickname. You go through seven better nicknames then that each day! Courtney and I have barely even had a conversation and now she just…acts like we are friends? What the hell?"

"Max, I barely understand normal people. Don't ask me to figure out Vortex robots."

"Chloe, at this point im pretty sure there's no such thing as a normal person. Especially in this town.

"You take that the fuck back, Caulfield. If there's no normal there's nothing for me to rebel against. And flip off while doing a wheelie on a motorbike. Wearing a leather jacket. With you on the back. Wearing nothing but a leather jacket."

The punk was staring blankly into space, a goofy smile in her face as she got lost in her own perverted imagination.

Note to self, buy a leather jacket.

"That fantasy kinda got away from you Chlo."

"Eh, a surprising number of my fantasies wind up with you wearing nothing but a leather jacket."

Max's embarrassment threatened to consume her, but she was beginning to adapt.

"Nothing surprising about that," she managed to flirt back.

Chloe shot up and out of bed with a speed that would have crippled her with pain just a few days ago.

"Bold, Maximus! Have you finally realised how hot you are?"

"It's a work in progress Chloe. I might still…..need convincing." Max brushed her hair back, just to have something to do with the hands that always turned into sweating, fidgeting messes when she tried to flirt with Chloe.

Her efforts paid off, though, her girlfriend looking down at her with a grin.

"I bet I can do something about that."

Chloe slipped onto the foot of her bed before turning to face Max and going on all fours. Eyes alight with mischief, she started crawling up its length. With each inch covered, her grin growing more predatory. By the time she had reached Max's torso it was downright depraved. Max squirmed. The light in her eyes, the way Chloe was basically climbing her, the focus on her face as she stared down at Max's breasts from so close. Max was having trouble breathing. It was all doing things to her.

It shouldn't have been such a big deal. No matter how hard Chloe tried, her gaze couldn't penetrate two layers of blankets, a hospital gown and the bandages still around Max's chest. It was nearly completely overwhelming. If her girlfriend backed off a little bit there was a chance Max could regain her composure and-

Chloe leaned down and kissed her right breast.

It had to be the briefest, gentlest peck in the history of kisses. A quick lean, a brush of lips, then Chloe was back to climbing her way up the bed, towards her. It was still too much, and the breath Max had been holding in escaped in a soft sound halfway between a startled gasp and an eager moan.

There was a gentleness in Chloe's expression as she finally finished her long climb, almost reverent as she smiled down at Max from so very close. The calm was somewhat infectious, Max's hands able to stop fidgeting for the first time in what felt like an eternity, even if she couldn't seem to stop rubbing her thighs together.

Chloe leaned down until her hair brushed Max's face, lips at Max's ear and whispered.

"You are hella hot, nerd."

And then she was just gone, bouncing back to her own bed with a grin wide enough to devour the Cheshire cat. Leaving Max unable to decide between being outraged at her girlfriends teasing, relieved Chloe had backed off, moping about the loss of Chloe's warmth or simply ridiculously horny.

Ten thousand years later, once Max had recovered enough to attempt human speech, she sat up in bed and levelled a glare at her smug girlfriend.

"You fucking tease. How was that supposed to convince me?"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "My methods are as mysterious as they are effective, Max Attack."

"Man, that's a pretty half assed evasion even for you."

Chloe snickered. "Okay, yeah, I kinda had to abort when I realized my actual plan would get us swarmed by nurses. I would totally rock your world even when you are hooked up to that heart monitor, but you really aren't ready for an audience."

Well, Max couldn't exactly deny that.

Her phone's alert tone distracted Max from their flirting. Picking it up off the bedside table, Max found a new message.

JULIET: I am the greatest student journalist in the history of Blackwell.

Max frowned as she began typing.

ME: Congratulations?

JULIET: I know who submitted your photo to the contest!

ME: Wow, who?

JULIET: Say it Max.
JULIET: Say "You are the greatest student journalist in the history of Blackwell."

"Oh for fucks sake Juliet."

"What's up Max?"

Max passed her phone to Chloe, who read Juliet's messages with a raised brow. Grinning, she started tapping away. By the time Max realized what she was up to, the message had been sent and it was too late.

"Chloe what…what did you say?"

The phone alert announced Juliet's response and Chloe handed the phone back smugly.

ME: You have the greatest tits of any student journalist in the history of Blackwell.

JULIET: Wow, way gayer then I was expecting but I will take it!
JULIET: Your photo was submitted by the one…..the only…
JULIET: Victoria Chase!
JULIET: Can you believe it? Fucking Victoria!

"Wow, I really can't."

Victoria. Is this…some sort of olive branch? No, Victoria really isn't the type. I definitely have to talk to her. I have been meaning to do something about that whole….Victoria situation.

ME: Thanks so much for finding out, Juliet!
ME: Sounds like I have a conversation with Victoria coming up D:
ME: Do you have her number?

JULIET: Sure Max, but you might want to wait a bit.
JULIET: Judging by the bottle Victoria threw at Alyssa 20 min ago, she isn't really up for much of a conversation.

Max blinked down at her phone. It wasn't even 11AM!

ME: Thanks again, Juliet.

"Chloe, it was Victoria who submitted my photo."

"What?! "Bitch Queen Of Blackwell" Victoria? "Would Be Hot If She Wasn't Such A Dick" Victoria? "Wanna Take The Stick Out Of Her Ass Just To Spank Her With It" Victoria? "Really Needs A-""

"Chloe, insecurities."

"Right, shit, sorry. So, uhm…we got plans today?"

"Uhm, the usual doctors and nurses poking at me, that Big Important Conversation my parents wanted to have yesterday, a bit of making out…okay maybe a lot, and I think that's it. Why?"

Chloe was shifting awkwardly as she arrived at the topic she had been working towards.

"About that conversation with your parents…..what are you going to say?"

Max scratched her head. "Well, that depends on what they say. Obviously."

Chloe huffed out an angry breath. "Dude, it was pretty obvious they want you back in Seattle-"

"- I am not abandoning you again Chloe."

Chloe smiled, partly at the reassurance, but even more at the speed with which it was offered.

"I know, Super Max. Together forever, for reals this time. I just meant…..like where? Where are we gonna be together forever. I kinda figure we should talk about our plans before you have that conversation with your folks."

"Oh. I never…good point Chlo I never thought of that. Uhhm, well. You need to reconcile with your mother before we leave, plus we didn't bleed for this town just to leave it right after, right? We saved a town! We have to spend at least a few months wandering around bragging to each other. Just pointing out trees and buildings and people and mentioning that we did that. We are the reason all this is still standing."

Chloe's smile shifted to something calmer, more contemplative.

"Yeah we did, didn't we? Pair of total badasses. We saved this shitpit! Guess I can tolerate living in it a bit longer. I uh…I have to make a call, one sec."

"Oh, uhm, bye?" Max waved as Chloe hurried out of the room with her phone.

Chloe looked down at her phone, biting her lip. Her finger hovered over a number she had four missed calls from. Taking a deep breath, she pressed down and held the phone to her ear, waiting as it rang.

She didn't have to wait long, the answer came quick in a tired voice.

"Hey Mrs Grant," Chloe responded. "So, I have had time to think and yeah, alright, I won't make more trouble for Blackwell. With the press or legally. But I have one condition. Wait, no, two conditions."

Chloe had been acting strangely ever since her super-secret phone call earlier, but Max hadn't had much opportunity to confront her about it. The time before her parents arrival was spent arranging arguments in her head, reminding herself that she was eighteen so they couldn't make her go, and of course panicking.

When Ryan and Vanessa filed in, Max still wasn't ready. She smiled awkwardly as they settled into the awful hospital chairs and exchanged pleasantries.

"So, Max, we have all been putting off this conversation. But it is one we have to have. We need to discuss your future, and Blackwell."

It was hard to believe that her father had begun an almost identical conversation in an almost identical way just a few months ago. There was so much more grey in his beard now…. Having his daughter the victim of a school shooting while in another state had left it's mark on him.

Max fought down a stab of guilt. She chose this.

And now she was going to stress him out more.

"Right, my future. And Blackwell. I don't, uhm, I don't want to leave. I know that…..they don't have a photography teacher anymore and the one they did have was a psychotic predator who only started teaching to get access to girls so he could abuse them and the administration was horrifically corrupt and yeah okay I got an almost fatal wound which leaves me with a permanent injury and…"

Wait, shit I am talking myself out of this.

"…..and I am going to stay and graduate. Because fuck all that. I chose this school and I have made some good friends here. I like it here and I am not letting Jefferson and the Prescott's chase me away."

Ryan took a deep breath. "Max, Arcadia Bay is doomed."

What the shit? Does dad know about the Storm?!

Max traded a panicked look with Chloe.

"I have seen it happen more than once, hell I have written stories about it. A small town loses its main industry – for Arcadia Bay, that was fishing. Those who can get out, do, the way we did. Those who can't get out do the best they can, like how Joyce has been working day after day in a diner she is so much better then. And the kids stuck in a town as it enters its death spiral either work towards getting out or lose focus and spend most of their time getting drunk or high, like Chloe."

"Errr, what, uh, what on earth are you talking about? Hah, I don't even know what drugs are. What's a marijuana?"

Ryan's gaze was unamused as it bored into Chloe.

"Once a town enters a death spiral it's almost never recovers, and Arcadia Bay's has been going on for more than a decade now. In desperate times, people reach for whatever they can get. The Prescott's have always been a blight on this town, and everyone knows it. But with no other options even the best of people have no choice but to drink from that poisoned well. And so the town goes from tolerating the Prescott's corruption to enabling it, then to encouraging it. Because they are the only game in town. But that kind of thing just can't be sustained, it creates a Nathan Prescott who severs that lifeline once and for all. Soon Sean Prescott will realize he can't buy forgetfulness and decide to move on, taking his dirty money with him. And the institutions he has been propping up with it, like Blackwell, die."

"And with Blackwell dead, there is one less reason for people to come to the Bay, no rich students eating at Two Whales and such, so the "death spiral" gets even deathier and more spirally."

Ryan nodded at her words. "You understand then."

"It doesn't matter." Her hands clenched in her blankets as she spoke. "I decide when I am done with Arcadia Bay. Not Nathan, not Mark Jefferson, not Sean Prescott, not some bullet or economics or the bluest butterfly in the goddamn world. Not a new job in Seattle."

Max's father looked down at her, blue eyes assessing her calmly. Then, slowly, his thick beard was split by a gentle smile. Reaching forward, he placed a gentle hand on Max's shoulder as he lent forward to plant a kiss on her forehead while Chloe watched with poorly disguised envy.

"Ryan," Vanessa said with a frown. "You can't approve? This town….it…..they shot my baby."

Max reached her arms out, her mother not hesitating to rush forward and enfold her into an embrace. Ryan put his hand on his wife's back, rubbing gently.

"Look at how confident she is, how strong. She has never been this determined before in her life. Our little Max is growing up. And growing into….."

"A total badass!"

"Yes, thank you Chloe. Out little Max is growing into a "total badass". I don't know what she found here." He glanced at Chloe, who fidgeted awkwardly. "But it is clearly what she needed. I'm so proud of her."

Max blushed bright enough to light the room.

"I'm not…You make it sound like I left all my shyness behind in Seattle and became this whole new person. Okay, I have grown a lot since coming here but I'm still me. Still your Max. I can't even call Victoria to thank her for submitting my photo. The Max Caulfield Phone Phobia still in effect. I'm still your little girl, just…..strong enough to survive Arcadia Bay without you guys."

Ryan nodded, but Vanessa was frowning in thought.

"Who is Victoria?"

"Oh, uhm….it's kinda hard to-"

"Max's nemesis."

"Chloe! I have barely been here three months. You can't develop a nemesis in three months."

"You can when you are as awesome as Max fucking Caulfield. People get jealous."

Turning to Max's confused parents while the young photographer shook her head, Chloe continued.

"Y'know how for every person out there there is an evil version of them wandering around?"

Vanessa blinked in confusion. "No?"

"It's true, it's science, look it up. Victoria Chase is the evil version of Max. Take everything good and special about her and twist it, corrupt it, and you get Victoria. She is," Chloe paused dramatically before narrowing her eyes and continuing in a hiss. "The Anti-Max."

Max rolled her eyes as her mother giggled. "She is just another photography student, one who gets way too competitive. That photography contest I won, where someone submitted my work when I was injured and was going to miss the deadline? My friend Juliet did some digging and figured out it was her."

Ryan stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Well, at least she is an honest nemesis. This Juliet though, would that be Juliet Watson, who is writing for the school paper?"

"Uhm, yeah. You…..read my high school's paper?"

"Ever since my daughter got shot, yes. Her most recent article was good, but she is only half done."

"Dad," Max groaned. "Don't go all reporter with my friends…"

He shuffled about and grinned sheepishly. "Hey, the girl has potential. All she needs to do now is follow the money, it may be an old, overused saying but it got to be that way for a reason. Not even Wells could drink away the amount of money the Prescott's payed him, there is a lot of money out there. Once you account for every cent you can, that is when the story is done.

"Okay pop, thanks for the lecture on journalism. I'm sure Chloe is going to put it to good use one day."

The punk in the other bed gave the room a sarcastic thumbs up while Max giggled at her fathers glare.

"Relax Dad, I will tell Juliet, okay?"

"Thank you dear."

Once the Caulfield's left, time passed in comfortable banter until Joyce arrived twenty minutes later. She offered Max and her daughter a weary smile as she made her way into the Hospital room in her diner uniform, handing Styrofoam containers to the hospitalized girls.

Max accepted hers with a comical shudder of gratitude, opening it up while her eyes shone with wonder.

Waffles. Joyce waffles.

"Thank you so much, Joyce."

"Yeah calling the crap they serve here "food" is an insult to honest bacon everywhere." Chloe said with a nod.

"Nrgh Chlreey esss," Max took the blessed waffle out of her mouth. "Uhm, sorry everyone. Chloe, this isn't just "food". This is Joyce food. A different tier entirely. Hospital food is way down the bottom just above prison food. In the middle you have regular food. A few tiers up you finally get to Joyce food."

Chloe didn't bother stopping her bacon feast to respond, simply shrugging and rolling her eyes.

"You have definitely spoiled her." Max said to a blushing Joyce.

"And this is why it is a delight to have you back in our lives, Max. Too bad it is taking so long to rub off on Chloe…" Joyce replied with a smile.

Suddenly Chloe was bouncing up and down in her seated position on her bed, legs flailing as she pointed emphatically at her mother and chewed maniacally. Finally gulping down her food, Chloe smiled smugly.

"Bitch, please, I am way ahead of you." Pulling out her phone, she passed it to her mother. "Check the messages. Just not any of the ones from Frank. Or Rachel. Or from…..actually fuck it this is a terrible idea, I can just tell you."

Snatching her phone back, Chloe stretched out and opened her mouth to continue when the door burst open and David stomped into the room.

"Joyce? The folks at the diner said you would be heading here after your shift. You won't believe what I heard at work! Chloe-"

"Dude!" The punk interrupted. "Shut the fuck up, it's my news!" Her still present grin took enough of the sting out of her words that David complied, even looking a bit embarrassed at having almost stolen Chloe's big moment.

"Well, Blackwell's going to shit and the fuckers at the top are scared of everyone suing, so Mrs Grant wanted to know what it would take to buy me off. Now, it took some doing, but after fierce negotiations I managed to talk her into accepting me back into Blackwell. Guess I'm going back to school. Full ride too, won't cost a dime."

Joyce was staring at Chloe, mouth gaping open like a fish, while Max fidgeted nervously and David frowned.

"Talk her into? Mrs Grant said she had to promi-"

"Fierce. Negotiations."

David huffed out a breath and shook his head. "I mean, congratulations?"

"That's better."

Max stopped fidgeting, getting up to cross the room and sit beside her girlfriend. "Chloe…..are we…..will we…."

"Share classes? Yup. They still don't know what the fuck they are gonna do about photography class, but we have a couple in common."

"We get to be study buddies?"

Chloe snorted out a laugh. "Sure, nerd."

Joyce had quietly made her way to her daughters side, biting her lip. "Chloe…please, please, tell me you will take this seriously and –"

"Not fuck this up like I do everything? Jesus, Joyce, at least wait for me to fuck up before you give me shit for it. Hah, I actually thought you might be *proud* for once. Like, we were getting back to…..But no it's-"

"I didn't say that, Chloe! Im…im sorry for giving you that impression. I am so so happy and proud and all…..I just….don't want you to lose this opportunity. You have made mistakes in the past – we all have, in this family."

"It's cool, mum, sorry for uh, losing my shit there."

Joyce smiled at Chloe, resting a hand on her shoulder as she sat down on the bed beside her, on the other side from Max.

"So, what classes are you taking?"

After Max stepped out into the hall, snarking that Chloe got a secret hallway phone call and that it was now her turn, she started the call and raised her phone to her ear.

"Hey Juliet, it's Max. Uhhm, first my dad, he is a reporter. He wanted me to mention that he likes what you have been writing, that it's a good start. But he says you need to "follow the money". Account for the money Wells accepted and...I dunno that's the real story?

"Wow, that's...interesting advice. Don't suppose he had any specifics?"

"Not really, sorry. Anyway the main reason I called...remember when you asked if I had anything to say? About Blackwell and the shooting and everything?

"Yeah, Max?! Just gimme one sec to turn on my recording app….." The voice on the other end of the line was eager, almost frantic.

"….okay, go!"

Max took a deep breath, steeling her resolve.

"I have been thinking a lot, since...the shooting. I won't deny that I have been angry...and afraid. Part of me wants to indulge that, get even. Take my chance to...tear into the school. With the law, the media, whatever. Or just...leave. Turn my back on this place and never come back. But that...it's how the Prescott's think. Something wrongs you, burn it down. Take any edge you can, make sure you get what you want. But I don't want to be like that. Blackwell is a community, and like any community you get out of it what you put in. That's something the Prescott's will never understand. Even in the short time I was here, I made so many great friends. Blackwell...wasn't the school I hoped it would be. But maybe it can be? We are members of this school, maybe if we focus on what we want it to be we can make it that. Build the school we deserve. I know a lot of people are down on the school now. It is in a low point, and it kinda deserves to be. But if we run off now, if we sue or leave or whatever...do we deserve any better? If we aren't invested in this school, this community, is it any wonder it turned against us? Our school was supposed to be better, to show us how to be mature...but "supposed to" never really counts for much in this life." Max exhaled in a huff, trying to gather her thoughts.

"Blackwell failed us, but that doesn't mean we should fail it. I won't be suing or leaving or seeking punishment for anyone other then Jefferson and Nathan. I am going back to class as soon as I can. I want to sleep in my dorm, hang out with my friends, get the best grades I can, and graduate. Like I came here to. I can't tell anybody else what to do, but I hope other people take this chance to think about what they really want."

"Wow, Max, some amazing stuff there! I know it's rude, but I really wanna get to work on this story..."

Max smiled. "Goodbye, Juliet."

"Bye Max!"

Dr Michael Burke nervously tapped his fingers against the case on his lap, trying not to look too out of place in the expensively decorated lobby. He had been born poor, and even years after having worked his way up from that nothing he doubted he would ever really get comfortable with the displays of wealth his employer insisted on.

There had been no shortage of time to acclimate himself, as he worked through his scholarship among similarly privileged people in a school he would never have been able to attend without his benefactor, but the culture shock was still there. One never truly stopped feeling the pains of childhood.

The orphan sometimes wondered where he would be, who he would be, if not for the lifeline that scholarship had been. He wasn't blind, of course. Michael knew the scholarship his employer had offered him so long ago had more to do with securing talent as early as possible. It was hardly a coincidence that he had gone straight from graduation to the job he had held for the past ten years.

But that scholarship had still made all the difference. Given a child resigned to mediocrity and crushing poverty everything he needed to truly live up to his potential. So what if he was bought and sold? Sooner or later everyone was somebodies bitch. At least he had chosen who was holding his leash.

Besides, that scholarship had been just the beginning. The things he had learned since starting his work made his doctorate, the years spent working his ass off in medical school and unravelling the deepest workings of the human body, seem like nothing. He had learned that there was something, greater then wealth, more then intellect. Hidden at the edges of society and in the cracks of reality.

Power.

For all his difficulty connecting with his employers affluence, that was one thing they were able to see eye to eye on, with ease.

The expensively dressed receptionist behind her expensive desk looked to him with an empty smile masked by expensive makeup.

"Mr Prescott will see you now."

Dr Burke walked into the office without bothering to acknowledge the woman. There would be a new one next week. Constant contact with Mr Prescott was not something to be born lightly.

"Report." Mr Prescott demanded, as always wasting no time with formalities. Burke wouldn't have it any other way. Placing the case on the hard dark wood of his employers desk, he opened it and removed several files and a package.

"Our investigation into the incident at lab 7 is complete. Eleven bodies recovered."

They both knew what that meant. The perpetually sour expression on Mr Prescott's face managed to worsen, somehow.

"Donnelly is following several leads," Burke continued.

Reaching the important part of his report, he opened the package and took out a vial.

"More thorough testing has confirmed the results of our preliminary examinations. The manifestation occurred, but…..our aims were subverted."

He had to tread carefully. The subject of Mr Prescott's son's failure and ultimate fate was a rather sore one. Although Mr Prescott held nothing back in his brutal diatribes against the boy, that was very much a privilege reserved exclusively for him. Any mere employee daring to criticize a Prescott would soon find their life getting very, very unpleasant. And possibly much shorter.

"The subject is contained and observation is continuing. All signs indicate a perfect candidate."

He handed the vial to his employer with an almost religious reverence, trying to avoid disturbing the dark red liquid.

"We will, of course, require a great deal more for our purposes. Acquisition will not present any difficulties."

Mr Prescott smiled.

Burke shuddered. In all the time he had worked for the man….he had never seen that happen.

The label on the vial was clearly visible as Mr Prescott held it up to the light.

Subject 17: Caulfield, Maxine.