"No, I know it doesn't make much sense but the first shots didn't wake me up. I didn't wake up until Chloe was….uhm…..."
"Dealing with the intruder?"
Officer Berry's face was haggard, lined with exhaustion. What little hair remained on his head gone grey. It was odd, Max had been trapped in time that was now lost to the world, but Anderson Berry was the one who looked like he had aged a decade in a month.
The hospital waiting room was bland and sterile, with uncomfortable chairs and a few tables bearing magazines. The police had claimed it as an improvised "interview room", which Max suggested must be the polite version of an interrogation room. For when you beat someone into a coma, but in self-defence.
Max reached over to Chloe beside her, hesitating at the sight of her girlfriends broken hand before putting her hand on Chloe's knee instead. The injured punk smiled at her, settling her other hand over Max's and squeezing as hard as she could. That hand only had two broken fingers.
"Alright, Chloe, anything else you want to add to your earlier statement?"
Chloe frowned. Law Enforcement had displayed something of an attitude switch towards her, in recent days. From troublemaking delinquent to one of the victims of a series of horrific crimes enabled by their corruption. Though some had held on to their anger at her, finding it easier to bear their failures when they could look down on "that punk", most had tried to move on. They had been respectfully professional, when questioning her over the Prescott case.
Chloe wasn't feeling so forgiving. They would always be the assholes who failed Rachel, to her.
She had told them everything that had happened in the real world, with no mention of her assailant having some sort of sleep or dream powers. Berry had seemed suspicious, some instinct cluing him in that she was holding back. Chloe wasn't particularly worried. If he had any follow through on those instincts she wouldn't be in the hospital with six fingers and one hand broken, an injured girlfriend and a dead best friend.
"Nope."
Officer Berry nodded.
"Alright then. As…..odd as it is that Max wasn't woken by the gunfire, it is consistent with other reports. The whole damn hospital; security, all the nurses and doctors on duty, everyone not only fell asleep but managed to stay asleep through a shooting. Maybe…maybe some kind of gas leak? Or…"
He sighed, bringing his hand up to rub at a forehead expanded by a receding hair line. He left, without another word.
"I feel kinda bad." Max confessed. "He just wants to help and we have pieces of the puzzle that we are holding back."
Chloe rolled her eyes. "Better "kinda bad" than "kinda locked up in the psych ward". We told him everything relevant to….heh, to the laws of man." The last few words were delivered in the kind of overly dramatic tone that people used shortly before letting out a "Muahahaha!"
"Arcadia Bay's cops can't even the handle the drug dealers and rapists they were trained to. Time travel and dream wizards would just make them shit themselves with terror, if we could ever convince them of it." Chloe continued.
Max nodded. "Yeah I…..I know. It would just…it would be nice to have help. Just hand over the problems to someone else and focus on being us."
"I get dat, Maximus. Wanna just…spend the next year blazing and making out with you. But…..this shit was targeted. We gonna need to get our hero on all over again."
Max closed her eyes and sighed, leaning back in her chair. Unable to hold her girlfriend's hand, Chloe bumped her shoulder against Max's instead. The photographer smiled and leaned against her, accepting the scant comfort Chloe could offer.
Max ran her hand through Chloe's hair, some of the tension leaving her girlfriend's face as she smiled in her sleep, head cradled on Max's lap. Even sitting as far back on the bed as Max could, Chloe had to curl up pretty tight to fit. She had grumbled about the position until she had fallen asleep, but without much heat. Chloe didn't have much fight left in her, after everything that had happened. She had just wanted to curl up with Max. Or on Max.
Continuing her caress, Max chewed on her bottom lip as she looked down at her battered girlfriend. It had taken entirely too long after Berry left for the hospital staff to come for them and Max and Chloe got their room back, now complete with a disinfectant smell even more overwhelming than the rest of the hospital.
Why the hospital put them back in a room which was now a crime scene complete with seven bullet holes, Max had no idea. Surely the hospital couldn't be that low on rooms? After all, they had one to spare for the man Chloe had just beaten into a coma.
As far as Max was concerned a rotting compost heap was too good for the man who had put Chloe through so much, let alone a nice new hospital room.
But after the attack and following drama, Chloe had simply been to worn out for Max to make much of an issue of getting their old room. The vibrant energy that had always characterized Chloe - whether manifesting as overwhelming affection, playful mischievousness or burning anger - had been absent. Her eyes were dull and glassy, voice empty, tired face somehow naked without her trademark grin or angry scowl. Some combination of the adrenaline crash, unprecedented stress of fighting someone seemingly capable of violating her mind, horrible shock of facing down an armed gunman, and the painkillers given to her for her injuries had taken the wind out of her sails.
Max moved on from playing with Chloe's hair, moving her hand down to her girlfriend's cheek in a gentle caress. Enjoying the warmth, the softness of her skin. Precious few residents of Arcadia Bay would expect such softness from its prickliest resident. Only Max actually got to feel it.
Chloe wouldn't need her cactus impersonation if this goddamn town would let up for five fucking minutes.
Max hadn't been back long before Arcadia Bay had started targeting people she cared about, with Kate being drugged abducted and tortured where she should have been safe. And by a teacher of all things. Then…..the fateful bathroom encounter. Max had watched as a classmate murdered a girl. From there, life had been an unceasing barrage. Being assaulted by Nathan in the parking lot, seeing how completely Chloe's life had fallen apart in her absence, being confronted with David's violent authoritarianism.
The train tracks, hearing her best friend scream in utter terror over and over as she scrabbled to find a way to fix it. Watching Kate leap, pushed far beyond what she could endure by being buried in the most small minded and petty of cruelties at her most vulnerable. Immediately afterwards, being caught in her oldest nightmare with the stakes ratcheted up impossibly high – figure out the exact right thing to say or watch a friend die. One wrong word carrying lethal consequences, when Max hadn't had a single conversation in her life that she hadn't managed to fuck up in one way or another. By some miracle, she had gotten through it. Led Kate off that ledge and to the qualified help she deserved.
Only for the next day to hold even worse horrors. The realisation of just how completely Wells had put students at risk for Prescott money. The agony on Chloe's face at the betrayal of the one person who had yet to let her down. The disorientation at finding herself in a new timeline of her own making, knowing anything could be different but not knowing what, a world both intimately familiar and utterly alien. Her triumph at saving William turning to crushing despair as she saw the chair and discovered what it had cost.
Chloe's request.
Leading the sweetest man in the world to his death just to undo her mistake. The dissonance of knowingly destroying Chloe in order to save her.
Frank's knife and Pompidou's teeth, Chloe escalating to murder to save her from both. Having to rewind over and over to find a way to around Frank's ego, just to avoid more bloodshed. The pain of her nails breaking as she clawed at Rachel's shallow grave, followed immediately by the stench of six months' worth of abandoned rotting. Chloe's broken weeping.
What kind of world did that?
Chloe's cold rage as she hunted Nathan, an all-consuming hatred which could only be sated with blood dominating the most loving person Max had ever met. The thunder and lightning of the gunshot, Chloe's hunt ending in the wrong person's death.
Then the prick in her neck and….pain. Disorientation and confusion turning into terrified realisation. Harsh white light and flash flash flash of the camera, her every weakness and vulnerability not only on display but delighted in as she was torn down. The betrayal of being tormented by her idol, reduced to a prop for his sick games. Desecration.
Violation.
Finally, finally escaping and having it all. Jefferson and Nathan locked up, justice for Kate and Rachel, her every professional and artistic ambition reached as her photography was the toast of a gallery, the central display in a contest dedicated to showing up and coming young artists. Most celebrated, even among the best of her generation. Her sweet Chloe, safe and secure in Arcadia Bay, life back on track. Only for it all to be stolen away by that motherfucking storm. So she had given it all up, San Fran, beautiful gallery, her art. She hadn't hesitated for a second, had hated every interruption on her path to sacrifice it all for Chloe, but it had still hurt to do so.
Even more so when her nobility had led her right back to the monsters clutches. The way he had looked at her. A profane melding of envy, lust and hatred. Only mattering because of the pain and degradation he could extract from her. Trying every trick and idea she could think of. All she could do, everything she had. And it not being enough. The complete and utter helplessness of coming up short, knowing her story was to end at a pervert's whim.
Only to be saved by a man she had hated, whose life she had almost destroyed. Answering his heroism by breaking his heart one last time. Another gunshot, this one bringing not fear or concern but a cold satisfaction. Only disturbed by not being disturbed, the creeping certainty that Jefferson had taken something from her. Something she had never properly valued and now would never get back.
Not even a second to process all that. Only a tiny victory, Jefferson's depraved trophy recovered and turned into a talisman. A reminder of what she was fighting for, what made all that suffering worth it. Chloe's necklace on her shoulders, around her neck. Her presence giving Max the strength to carry forward. A tiny protection against the storm.
Against the sight of friend after friend dying in the chaotic madness. Howling wind and lashing rain, deadly debris thrown about with ease. The Two Whales, as sacred a part of her childhood as anything could be, aflame. A tiny protection against it all. But enough.
It had got her to the photo, to her sweet Chloe, even as her mind broke under the strain and nightmares consumed her.
And her reward for all that? For persevering through all the pain and terror Arcadia Bay could concoct? The most fucked up dilemma the world had ever seen. She could have her Chloe. At the cost of everything else. A happy life built on a foundation of death and destruction. A river of blood to wade through to get to her happy ending.
So she had done the right thing. Been responsible.
Torn out her heart for a world that didn't fucking care.
She had tried one last desperate roll of the dice, at the very end. Tried to swap out, take Chloe's place. Die for Arcadia Bay. Lay bleeding out in her love's arms, thinking she had failed.
And finally, finally finally finally, the peace she had fought, sacrificed, bled and died for was hers. Burdened by scars of every sort, tried and tormented. Down one rib and a great deal of energy. But she had the light in Chloe's eyes, those smirking lips against hers. Kate's faith, Dana's support, Warren's friendship, her parent's love. Enough and so much more than enough.
But now this.
Max could feel the noose tightening. Fate, god, the universe or just some random collection of assholes conspiring to take it all. Steal away the happy ending she had fucking earned.
No.
Not this time. She wasn't the same girl who had dreamed of a storm while a psychopath leered at her. If the world was going to try to take away what was hers she was going to take it right the fuck back.
She had power. And she was done being afraid of it. She would do whatever she needed to, to protect the love she had found and the life she had won.
Whatever it took.
Whatever the consequences.
Max's left hand trembled from the strength with which it was clenched. It was any world that dared take Chloe away from her that needed to be afraid.
Chloe brought a hand up to her head to comb her hair back into place, wincing as her broken fingers made contact. All fucking day she had been making that mistake. It was almost enough to make a girl regret beating a fucker into a coma. Almost.
Still, it wasn't without it's advantages. Every time her injured hands held her back, Max had hurried to help her. As irritating and humiliating as helplessness was for the headstrong punk, knowing she could rely on Max to take care of her was deeply comforting. A bit too comforting, really. Lying back while a gorgeous girl fed her was fucking indulgent. Just needed to make it grapes Max was feeding her, really. And maybe add a few veiled dancers.
Shit, maybe Steph could set something up? She was bound to know some people…
Definitely a topic to reconsider another day. Chloe forced her mind away from her newfound fantasy and back to her considerably less pleasant reality.
Just in time to watch David pull into the hospital carpark.
His obnoxious face was set in an obnoxious frown behind obnoxious sunglasses as he sat in his obnoxious car. Chloe grit her teeth against the pain of her clenched hands and did her best to relax. He had been oddly polite, on the phone. He had actually asked if they could go somewhere to talk. Not told, ordered, barked or yelled. Asked. This was an unprecedented incident in the recorded history of David Madsen, Stepdouch from Beyond.
He pulled up beside her and signalled for her to get in. She offered him a half-hearted wave. Part greeting, part sarcastic reminder that she couldn't manage the car door handle. A blushing David hurried out of the car and around to the passenger side door, opening it for her in a display of chivalry she couldn't help think of as overcompensating for his faux pas. Chloe managed to avoid rolling her eyes as she got in, waving off his help as she struggled with the seat belt. He had been settled into his seat for a while, waiting with an uncharacteristic patience, by the time she got herself buckled in and he could pull out of the parking lot.
"Not that I don't like mystery rides with people I hate or anything, but I have had a hella shitty month and I'm not really in the mood for any more surprises. So…..mind telling me where the fuck we are going?"
David was silent for a while as he drove, taking so long to consider his answer to such a simple question that she started to worry.
"We have a lot to talk about, and I know I at least have a lot to apologise for-"
"Dude, can we fucking not? I am way too tired for a repeat of our Springer re-enactment-"
"Chloe, can you please let me finish?"
His voice was tense with the effort of holding back his anger, but almost as tired as hers. Between the cops crawling all over Blackwell, dealing with scared or angry parents and students and being there for Joyce while Chloe fell from the frying pan into several successively worse fires, David had to be one busy little fascist.
"All right."
David nodded gratefully.
"We have a lot to talk about, and I know I at least have a lot to apologise for." He repeated. "But none of that matters right now. Right now…Of all my regrets, the worst is the way I tried to protect students. I was so focused on protecting people that I stopped treating them like people."
They were heading into what passed as the wealthy part of town. Simple suburban neighbourhoods which wouldn't impress in a real town, but with Arcadia Bay's standards in as steep a decline as the rest of it, victory was claimed by default. The next right turn would take them to the nicest part of the nice part of town. To the house of Arcadia Bay's DA. The Amber household. Chloe didn't realize how tense she had gotten until David turned left instead.
"It's so much easier to reduce people, to an objective, to a list of traits or variables, to a problem to be solved. I tried to protect people, protect you, by holding myself apart. Disconnecting. Never been any good at working with a team."
David parked across from a short, long, solidly built building. Unlike most buildings in the tiny town she had spent her entire life in, Chloe couldn't immediately place it.
"It…..frustrated me, the way you and everyone else refused to just play along. Didn't you realize how much easier it would be to protect you if you would stop wandering around town? Why couldn't the students just shut up and accept the cameras? It was all for your own good."
Chloe managed to hold herself back while he shook his head and sighed.
"I was limiting people, holding them back and tearing them down. Treating them like children to be talked down to. All it did was guarantee no one came to me for help when they needed it. If Kate had just been able to trust me…"
It took almost a minute for David to collect himself this time, jaw clenched and eyes screwed shut.
"I never realized I should have been building people up instead. Making them feel safe and protected. Reaching out, trusting people so they would trust me. I was so focused on protecting you I never even considered teaching you how to protect yourself."
David reached across her to the glove box, pulling the latch then leaning back while it opened. Chloe's eyes widened.
"You aren't the kind of person who can sit back while someone else protects you. Maybe that is because of how things went with your father, waiting for him to come back and instead losing him forever. I can't claim to understand that pain. Maybe it is just who you are, the way you always would have turned out. Either way, this is what I should have done from the beginning."
Chloe reached out hesitantly, an unbroken finger coming to rest on the dark metal.
"You never should have needed to steal it. There is some paperwork to do before it is official, but the gun is yours. So long as you let me teach you how to use it."
That was what the building they were parked in front of was. Arcadia Bay's one and only shooting range.
"Maybe you were right, in therapy, when you said violence is all I have. But if it is…..maybe you can make use of it. "
"Dude." Chloe held up her hands. "I can't exactly pull the trigger. And I don't even want to imagine what the recoil would feel like."
David gave her one of the only genuine smiles she had ever seen on his face.
"There is a lot to cover before you start shooting. Gun safety, firing posture, legal stuff."
Learning to shoot with David would be a lot less fun than with Max, Chloe could tell. But she probably wouldn't need time traveller assistance to hit her target at the end of it. And she was much less likely to shoot herself in the tit with a ricochet.
Chloe stared down at the gun.
She fucking hated David. Day after day of degrading insults, rude and hostile behaviour. Until the hate and bitterness was a weight she carried every day. Watching him claim her home, take her mother, try to replace her dad. The smack of his hand against her face, entire world lurching with the impact. Constant fear becoming just another part of her shitty life.
Oh yes, she fucking hated David Madsen. Taking lessons from him would be beyond humiliating.
But when it had really mattered, when Max had been more scared and afraid then in her entire life, seconds from a degrading death for a sadists satisfaction, it had been David kicking down the door and saving her. While Chloe lay dead on the ground. And then again in the bathroom, Max had taken a bullet for her and there had been nothing she could do to protect her. Again, David saved Max where Chloe failed. Last night Chloe had finally managed to protect her, but only just, and at a serious cost.
Couldn't protect Rachel, could only protect Max one of the three times she needed it.
The only thing more degrading then swallowing her hatred and being David's student would be failing again, not doing everything she could to shield her girlfriend from an increasingly brutal world. If Max got hurt because Chloe was too damn proud to suck it up and learn from David…..no, fucking no. She would protect Max.
Whatever it took.
Whatever it cost her.
Chloe reached out and took the gun. It was the next asshole that tried to hurt Max that needed to be afraid.