Dec 18, 2013 - First Choice Timeline
Victoria spun on her heel, rattling the doorknob and slamming against the door. The door didn't budge. This wasn't happening. No way was she confronting Nathan Prescott, tonight, and definitely not alone. She shoved against the door with all the force that she could muster. Still nothing.
"Logan," she yelled, but whether he heard her or not she didn't know, not with the music blaring as it was; plus even if he had heard her, she suspected that he still wouldn't have let her out.
Fine, she thought. I'll have to make for the other exit.
Unfortunately, as she turned ready to haul ass across the office to the front entrance, she found that Nathan had already closed the distance from the coach's chair and propped himself half-sitting on and half-leaning against the corner of the desk before her. There was no way she was getting to that other door without also putting herself within arm's reach of Nathan, a prospect that she wanted to avoid if at all possible.
"You and I really should talk." A smug smile played across his lips — one she used to find charming, a little sly smile between friends. Now it felt decidedly dangerous, its charm doused by the pain Nathan had rained down upon Blackwell and its student body.
"You shouldn't be here." Victoria knew it was a stupid thing to say. Nathan was well aware that he shouldn't be there. Of course, he was. Yet Victoria didn't know what else to say. He was there and she was trapped.
"Fuck that, Vic. You weren't coming by. What'd you expect? For me to sit at home on my ass?"
"Your ankle monitor..." God, she hated the soft timidness that had invaded her voice. She just… she wanted to grab to that usual strength, that fake-it-until-you-make-it confidence that she typically imbued within her every movement and syllable; yet there was a huge difference between acting in control to swing the high school social hierarchy in your favor and feigning confidence when the situation had potentially life-and-death stakes. Would Nathan really kill her? Could he bring himself to do that despite their history? Victoria didn't know for sure, but she didn't like her odds either.
"Like I'm going to let some lame ass judge tell me where I can and cannot go," Nathan continued. "Everyone's always trying to tell me what to do. Look where that got me. No, I'm done with that shit."
"But…"
But what Victoria? Spit it out already. She couldn't. She couldn't bring herself to say what was on her mind; how Nathan's whereabouts were supposed to be tracked so there shouldn't be any way that he could be here at Blackwell — not legally, and not without the cops coming to pick him up. She didn't need to speak though; Nathan knew her too well not to understand her dilemma.
"No one knows I am here," he said. "No one's going to know I'm here. Drop it, okay?"
Victoria nodded. For once in her life, she was at a loss for words. There was a rage brewing inside Nathan, and yet, that manic anxiety that had laced his every movement in the weeks leading up to his arrest, that was nowhere to be found. Here she saw rage, yes, but Victoria also saw something scarier: control. He wasn't flying by the seat of his pants – not in this moment, not completely. Nathan had thought this through.
"Good. Glad that bullshit is behind us. Now, let's talk bidness as some useless bitch once said."
Victoria scanned the room. There had to be something nearby that she could use to defend herself. The makeshift bar stood out. She could probably grab a bottle from the top of the filing cabinet if she had to – quick-like too. Some of those top shelf whiskeys looked to be bottled with pretty thick glass. They could do in a pinch.
"You were like my sister, Vic. You know that, right?"
She tried to ignore the pained tremble in Nathan's voice. Their friendship had been real, so hearing that pain hurt her, much as she wished that it didn't. Nathan's hurt tugged at Victoria's familiar desire to console him, that desire that had risen so often over their long history together, usually after Sean Prescott had laid into Nathan particularly hard. Victoria couldn't comfort Nathan now, though. Where before she had seen a friend in pain, now she saw a caged animal, wild and dangerous. She could befriend it (as she once had) and try to calm it, and she might even succeed, but just as easily she could wind up on the wrong end of its claws. That risk was too great.
Victoria continued searching the room, casting fleeting glances to her periphery. There was a coffee pot close at hand. Too bad it didn't look like the coffee inside was fresh and hot. That probably would prove less useful than the whiskey bottles, but also more accessible if in a hurry.
"And me, I kind of thought I was like a brother to you, too." Nathan's eyes didn't simply bathe in rage anymore. That pain in his quivering voice, it had bled into those eyes as well.
"Wasn't I?" he asked. "Wasn't I a brother to you?"
Victoria couldn't lie. They had been close. She missed that; she really did. Yet he had ruined everything. That was all on him. Even so, Victoria gave a weak nod — nothing too definitive, but enough to hopefully placate the sociopath that had replaced her once vulnerable friend.
As she nodded, she wondered how controlled his temper was in that moment. He seemed pretty far gone, but if Nathan was feeling abandoned was that justified? Did his family have him medicated since his release? Was he stable? Too many questions swirled about, shouting at her, begging for her attention, and she didn't have any of the answers.
It occurred to her then that she really should have read some of his texts, rather than just deleting them all unread. When they hadn't stopped coming, she'd blocked his number. Had she just read them, maybe she would have had some clue as to his current mental and emotional state.
Too late now.
"Vic, I'm gonna need an actual answer on that one. Wasn't I a brother to you?"
Fuck. I need a way out.
One of those molded plastic chairs that was the staple of schools everywhere sat nearby. It'd be cumbersome, and probably not as effective as the bottles or the coffee pot though. No, the only thing Victoria could do was keep talking and stay on Nathan's good side until a better option came along.
"Yeah," she said finally. This answer came out with no more strength than the nod that had preceded it, but Nathan didn't seem to care. He just nodded his smug little face back at her.
"Yeah, what?"
Fuck, he's pushing it.
Victoria Maribeth Chase was not accustomed to being talked to like this. No one put her in 'her place;' she put them in theirs. For a moment, she felt her own inner fire rising once more.
Good. Fan those flames.
"Yeah. You were like a brother to me."
There. She'd finally found a voice, enough of one to speak in complete thoughts at least. That voice still shook; it still held that queasy quiver of fear, but it had form. She could work with this.
"That's what I thought," he mused. "Yet now… now you won't even answer a simple fucking text. Hell, you blocked me didn't you?"
"No, no, I wouldn't do that." Yes, I would, you psychotic bag of dicks.
"Don't fucking lie to me, bitch! You think you're hot shit, you and your Chase money. Well, fuck, my dad could buy out your family fortune ten times over and it'd still be chump change."
That seems like an exaggeration. Has to be.
"You're nothing, Victoria," he continued. "Fucking nothing."
Suddenly that manic edge to his rage erupted and Nathan swept his arm across the desk, sending folders, files, and nameplates hurtling off and clattering against the floor. The overall effect being far less intimidating with nothing of real value slamming off the desk, he snapped back, seized his whiskey tumbler and flung it towards the door behind Victoria. She flinched as it shattered just over her shoulder in a torrent of glass and whisky. She could feel the tiny shards speckling out and catching on her blouse along with the splash of alcohol soaking in.
"But me," Nathan said, his voice calm now despite the fury of his actions, "you hanging on my arm, riding my coattails, I made you. And you can't even answer a text."
Yeah, pretty sure he's off those meds, again, Victoria thought. Calm or in a full rage, everything about him spoke to an unhealthy volatility. He could explode at any moment and nothing she did one way or the other would make a difference. She could be docile or furious; either was just as likely to ignite his temper. In which case…
Fuck it.
Victoria had tried playing nice, but that wasn't her strength. Now it was time to lean into what she did best. Swallowing down the lingering fear that had coated her every word up until now, she reached down as deep as she could to pull out the Victoria Chase spirit for which she was known. She was done eating crow. Now, now she might as well dive all in; and so she did.
"Go cry me a river you fucking mama's boy. You killed Rachel Amber – Rachel fucking Amber! And you want to cry to me about unreturned texts. Get your head out of your ass."
At this Nathan burst out laughing, a true laugh, like when she and him really had been friends. She missed that laugh, and that very fact made her sick.
"See? Was that so hard?" he asked. "That's the Victoria Chase that I know and love. Where the fuck has she been hiding all night? All this pussy-footing around, with the little sad nods and the little limp-dick denials; that's beneath you. Beneath us."
"So, why'd you do it?" As long as he was being chummy, Victoria figured that she might as well try to take some advantage of the situation.
"Do what?"
"Kill Rachel Amber, you idiot. You want to talk about how we were like brother and sister. Well, hell. I loved you like family and then you threw that away over Rachel of all people."
"I didn't kill Rachel." He looked her straight in the eyes as he said it; not even the hint of a blink. Was he telling the truth? No. He'd confessed. It was on the news. The sheriff's department and the police had swarmed American Rust. They'd found her body. He had killed her and now he didn't even have the balls to admit it to her face. Fuck that.
"You did. You killed Rachel Amber, then you shot Chloe Price."
"Oh my god! That punk ass. That white trash bitch wasn't worth a damn. You think I'd waste my time with her?"
"You shot her!"
"Fuck, Vic. That was an accident. Don't listen to the god-damned, blood-sucking media. They've always had it out for us Prescotts. We fucking fund this whole town, but the second they get a hint of scandal they're fuckin' sharks swarming the waters, sniffing out the chum bucket. Ungrateful fucks, every last one of them."
And there it was, he was shifting the blame, again, and trying to deflect her attention to the media of all things; as if she should feel sorry for him because of his bad publicity. Hell to the no. Had he always been such a snot-nosed, privileged brat and she just hadn't seen it? It didn't matter how anyone spun the "incident." In the end, Nathan had still shot Chloe. He needed to understand that.
"She died from a gut shot in the bathroom right beside you," she yelled! "You're pending trial for her murder."
"Don't believe that shit. That girl had it out for me. You think it was coincidence her childhood friend, that little retro-hippie whore, happened to be the only witness? No, those fuckers ganged up on me."
And now Max was to blame? The girl could barely harm a fly.
"Max? She's a hundred flat, if. She couldn't do shit to you."
"Hey, it wasn't my finest hour, but that Chloe bitch, she was relentless. Then her friend comes charging in behind me. I'm telling you, that little whore was armed. She would have stabbed me. I scrambled. I don't know, got that Chloe bitch between me and little miss butterflies-make-me-cry and the gun just went off. Me, that was all self-defense."
Oh shit. That's his game plan!
"Fuck! Is that how daddy's lawyers are going to spin this? Self fucking defense! You confessed to everything."
"That shit was coerced. I didn't even have a lawyer present. Total bullshit."
"The bunker?"
"I knew Jefferson had some weird setup down there, sure. Family money and all. Told me it was part of the deal he took when he came to teach. Needed a state-of-the-art, private studio."
"A state-of-the-art studio set up in a creepy ass bunker in an even creepier assed abandoned barn!"
"The place was lying around. We didn't have any other use for it."
Holy hell. Nothing was his fault. Absolutely nothing. Not even the concept of culpability came into play.
"And what family just has empty bunkers lying around abandoned properties, Nathan? How stupid do you think people are?"
"Reasonable doubt stupid… if I had to take a guess. Fuck, Vic. Do you want me to go to prison for the rest of my life here? Prison?! Over Rachel Amber and Chloe fucking Price!?"
"What about Kate Marsh?"
"I didn't have shit to do with that. I'm telling you I didn't have shit to do with fuck all of it. That hobby, those binders, that was all him. All Jefferson. You know I didn't do it."
Bullshit. I know no such thing.
Clearly she let that doubt seep into her face, because Nathan went all rage after a quick glance her way.
"Fuck! I got my dad breathing down my neck. I got Jefferson thrusting his sick fucking photos in my face. I got Madsen the wannabe private dick, real-life asshole, taking photographs of me and shouting paranoid conspiracy theories. Even Wells is breathing down my neck about not doing his fucking job and writing up my permanent record like we pay him to do, fucking ingrate. Not a damn person appreciates me. Didn't then, don't now. They all think they can tell me what to do, and look where that drove me? No, I didn't do this shit. They did."
Victoria couldn't take it anymore. Everything was just one more excuse, one more reason that poor, poor Nathan deserved all the sympathy, one more reason that he wasn't to blame. It was all total and complete —
"Bullshit."
Nathan screamed, pure frustration bursting out. "Vic, can't you see I fucking need you. I need my best friend back, bitch!"
At this, whatever marginally calm veneer Nathan had maintained up until now vanished. Shaking, he reached over to one of the plastic chairs against the wall and hurled it towards the postered over window. As it hit, Victoria could hear the cracking of glass. The thing must have been reinforced, because the amount of energy Nathan just put into that little temper tantrum, it should have shattered.
"Uh, bro, you two okay in here?"
Logan peered in, cracking the door open. Finally, Nathan's chair hurling had caught his attention.
"Great," Nathan yelled. "Shut the damn door."
Yet, before Logan could, Victoria stuck her arm and leg through. She felt two sharp pains as the door closed on both, but just as quickly the pressure vanished as Logan eased up.
"Sorry, Vic. Didn't expect you to barrel out."
Victoria shook with her own rage now, pushing past Logan. What had this dumb ass expected? If he'd thought everything between her and Nathan were going to be amicable then he wouldn't have needed to hold the door shut against her. No, he'd played his part and his stupidity could only account for so much of that.
"Keep that fucker away from me," she said, forcing her way through.
Hayden blinked from his couch, now completely stoned out of his mind. "Peace pipe?"
"No, Hayden, I don't want to smoke 'em peace pipe!"
Paying no mind to Hayden's hurt look or Logan's dumb jock confusion at her outburst, Victoria flew right out of the VIP section, rushing out through the curtains. Let Nathan dare follow her out here. Then everyone would know he was here. His daddy's lawyers could have a field day trying to cover that up.
Putting some distance between herself and the VIP entrance, Victoria pulled out her phone and immediately texted Max. As she did, she performed a once-over around the pool, scanning for any sign of the small photographer. She wasn't by the bar anymore. Where'd she go?
Victoria: Nathan is here. Get out now.
12/18/13-9:07 pm
Victoria: Did you get my message?
12/18/13-9:10 pm
Victoria: Text me.
12/18/13-9:12 pm
Fuck! Max needs to answer her damn texts!
That phone etiquette conversation was going to have to be an immediate priority a soon as they were both somewhere public and safe. Flipping through her contacts, Victoria dialed Max as she wound her way through the crowd and towards the bar. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Still nothing.
She kept the line open until Max's voicemail chimed in, then immediately hung up, returning to the text chain.
Victoria: Answer.
Your.
Phone.
Now.
12/18/13-9:15 pm
As she wrapped up the text, her phone buzzed. Thank, fuck! Expecting to see Max finally returning her messages, she glanced down and instead found Logan's name.
Yeah, if that's Logan, I'm the Queen of England. Guess I have another number to block now.
Logan: You done with your hissy fit?
12/18/13 -9:16 pm
Logan: Get your bitch ass back in here.
12/18/13 -9:17 pm
She wanted to ignore him. She should ignore him. She knew that she should; but she couldn't. Casting a worried glance behind her to make sure that Nathan hadn't pulled the ultimate stupid move and come crashing out from the VIP section, Victoria confirmed that she was safe ( she was… kind of) and texted back.
Victoria: Want to speak to me, Nathan? Come find me
Oh wait. U can't. Ur punk ass will go to jail.
12/18/13-9:18 pm
Logan: Fuck you! You're not hiding from me, Vic. I mean more to you than that!
12/18/13 -9:18 pm
Logan: I know you! My dad owns this town. I own this town. I will find you!
You're not fucking abandoning me.
Not you too!
12/18/13 -9:19 pm
To hell with this. Victoria blocked the number and, catching sight of a familiar face, rushed to the bar.
"Taylor!"
"Hey, Vic!" Taylor raised a glass of sparkling water her way. "You think you could send Courtney out to handle the poolside. I want to get back to the real bar." Taylor paused, picking up on Victoria's distress. About damn time. "Vic? What's wrong."
Taylor reached a hand out to Victoria's cheek before she could say anything back. "You're bleeding?"
"Huh?"
Victoria rubbed at her cheek where Taylor had reached and came back with a little smear of blood on her fingers. The glass… the tumbler…
"Just a little glass." No time to get into the details. She needed to find Max now. "Where's Max?"
"I don't know. Why do you reek of alcohol?"
Victoria held up a hand to silence Taylor, then slammed into the nearest stool, pulling her phone back out, and ringing up the hipster once more. As it rang, she glared at her friend.
"How do you not know where Max is!? I asked you to watch out for her!"
She was shouting now, and not just to be heard over the music. A few eyes turned her way, including the bartender's. Victoria cut him a death glare.
"Buzz off, loser! Or I'll have your ass booted."
As the boy made a retreat, Taylor pulled at the hem of her shirt, slipping into full on anxiety mode.
"I don't know," Taylor said. "Sarah… uh… she needed a break, so I had to… I took over the table for a minute. But just for a minute!" This last part came out pleading, as if begging Victoria to see that she had done everything that she could.
"Fine." Victoria hung up the phone as it went to voicemail again. "Where was she last?"
"Here," Taylor offered. "Talking to Justin and that nerd boy of hers."
Victoria looked one way, then the other, and shrugged. "Well, fuck if she's here now." Seeing how Taylor winced at that, Victoria tried to remind herself that it wasn't Taylor's fault. To her this was just a party; she couldn't have predicted the turn that the night would take.
"Look," Victoria started again. "We need to find Max, okay. Nate's here and she can't run into him."
"Wait, Nathan —"
"No time to get into that," Victoria snapped. Attempting to calm herself, she placed a light touch on Taylor's arm. "Can you just, can you help me find her?"
"Of course."
"Okay, okay. Good. You cover the other side of the pool and the entryway. I'll double check here and back in the VIP section. Maybe she went looking for Dana."
"On it." Instantly, Taylor was on her feet and off towards the coat check. As soon as she was gone, Victoria pulled out her phone, again. She had one more text to send.
Victoria: Either of you seen Max?
12/18/13-9:26 pm
Kate: She went to the party with Dana.
12/18/13 -9:26 pm
Victoria: They split up.
She hasn't come back your way?
12/18/13-9:27 pm
Kate: No. Not here. I'll tell her you're looking if I see her. Dana?
12/18/13 -9:27 pm
Dana: Like I already said, Victoria. I left her with Warren.
12/18/13 -9:28 pm
Victoria: One job, Dana. One job.
12/18/13-9:28 pm
Dana: Ask Taylor. She was watching out for her.
12/18/13 -9:29 pm
Victoria: Lost her.
Check the VIP section. Now.
Taylor and I have the public party covered.
12/18/13-9:29 pm
Dana: You think something happened?
12/18/13 -9:29 pm
Kate: Is she okay?
12/18/13 -9:30
Victoria: Wasted enogh time already.
Explain later. Text if you find her.
12/18/13-9:30 pm
This was taking far too long. If she'd just answer her phone, then everything could be sorted before it became a problem, but no… Max Caulfield had to be a socially anxious hipster with an aversion to communication.
Victoria called again. Still it rang incessantly with no answer. Up until now, Victoria had been riding an adrenaline high from her confrontation with Nathan. Now, now real fear had stolen in, not for herself, but for Max. The girl was terrible at keeping up with anyone, but even she should have answered by now.
Picking up on a familiar smell, Victoria wound her way around some discarded gym mats to discover Justin smoking a joint. He held it out to her as if offering.
"Care to join?"
Why the hell were all the boys trying to get her high, tonight? She had no time for this.
"Where's Max?"
"Whoa. All business, I see. Sure you don't want? Maybe mellow a little?"
"Where's Max?" Her voice took a sterner edge this time, one that screamed 'no room for argument.'
Justin threw up his hands.
"She wasn't game. I offered but Maximum Overdrive declined. Went off with Graham and that Brooke girl. She's hot."
"So she's still with Warren?"
Justin took another puff as he thought, which seemed to spark a sudden realization.
"Well…"
"Well, what?"
"Well, Evan was just here. Said that Brooke stormed out, and sounded like Maximus convinced Graham to go after. Between you and me, I think that boy'd rather stayed back with Max. Don't tell anyone though."
Fucking obvious, Justin.
"Okay, so where'd Max go?"
"I don't know. Didn't she come here with Dana? Maybe check in your hoity-toity VIP club."
He was utterly useless. Damn stoner.
Victoria dialed Max again, although she had no real hope that Max would answer, and started back towards the VIP entrance, scanning the crowd as she did. There was still no sign of the girl anywhere.
"Hey," Justin called after her. "You see my boy, Trevor, tell him I'm looking for him."
Sure, she thought. Not doing that.
"Sure," she called back and kept walking. When the voicemail picked up, Victoria hung up and dialed again.
On the third ring, the call finally picked up.
"Hello?" It wasn't Max's voice on the other end of the line. Why was someone else answering her phone? Fear gripped hold, and Victoria's heart raced, making her light-headed. She steadied herself against the wall and licked at her lips, noting how her mouth had gone dry.
"Is Max there?"
"Victoria?"
The voice was a girl's voice, so not Nathan, which was a plus, but still not reassuring.
"Yeah, looking for Max. She there?"
"No, this is Stella."
Why the hell does Stella have Max's phone? Before Victoria could ask, Stella pushed forward.
"You've been blowing up the coat check room all night. Guess she left her phone in her jacket."
God damn it!
"Shit."
"Yeah. Could you lay off now? I'm starting to get a migraine."
"Just tell her I called if you see her."
"Yeah, sure. Whatever. Look, I gotta go. There's a line forming."
With that the line went dead and Victoria just wanted to scream. Max could be anywhere and she had no phone, no way to reach her. The lights here had been worrisome enough, an easy flashback trigger in the right scenario. Add in the loud music, the crowd, Max should be a nervous wreck. Now with Nathan in the mix, Victoria had to find her, and she had to find her fast.
Max leaned against the brick wall of the gymnasium, the bricks cold against her back. The chill bit into her arms as well, and she hugged them close for warmth. Why had she checked her cardigan? She must have been too flustered after running into David. Dog, he'd been so far gone.
Max lit her cigarette, shielding it as she did. A deep inhale, a puff, and there it was, that glorious smoke. She felt it warm and soothing, easing the tension that had knotted into her over the course of the evening. Fuck, she thought, with sudden realization. I'm a smoker now.
Victoria and Dana had done their best to get her to kick the habit. Kate, too. Yet Max had managed to hide a few packs here and there. She had to be careful where she stowed them, of course. Her room was off limits. They found those too quickly. She had one stashed behind a loose brick on the side of the dorms. That stash came in handy for late night smokes. She had another hidden in the bushes out by the Annex. That was a prime spot for a midday smoke if she could sneak off during lunch. Tonight, she'd only managed to sneak in two cigarettes to the party, each tucked over an ear and hidden beneath Chloe's beanie. They were a bit bent and worse for wear, but they were better than nothing.
One of those was still left, tucked away for safekeeping, though she didn't think that would last long. She took another drag from cigarette number one, hoping to settle her still jostled nerves. Max had done well overall. She really had. She'd managed to make it into the party. She'd talked with Warren and Justin, and even Taylor. After Taylor had split to work the bouncer table, however, the dominoes had begun to fall and the chain reaction couldnt' be stopped. Brooke split a few minutes later because Warren was being a dumbass and fawning over Max again, and then Warren split because she had convinced him that he best go after Brooke. That had left Max alone with Justin.
Try as she might, she and him just hadn't found much common ground in this timeline. He'd long since apologized for calling her a poser, but she hadn't bothered to approach him for skateboarding lessons again; she'd given up on that dream. She was too nervous about it now. So their interactions remained perfunctory at best, unless Trevor or Dana were there as a buffer against the awkward. Yet both of them had been in the VIP section, and well, Max hadn't been ready for that. Last time she'd been there, she'd run into Jefferson. That had been right before he posed as Nathan and sent her and Chloe that text — that text that got Chloe killed. That text that put Max in the Dark Room.
Every time she approached those curtains, Max saw his face and she just couldn't do it. She couldn't go in. So instead she'd hung back with Justin despite the awkward silence. He'd offered to kill the tension with a smoke of his own, but Max hadn't even had a sip of alcohol since she had shared that wine with Chloe when they were kids. She doubted that she was ready for a joint. Even so, chemical relief had seemed like a decent idea, just not the type of smoke that Justin kept on hand. So, Max had found herself here on the side of the gym, away from the entrances and tucked into her favorite, isolated corner.
She took another drag, then shivered hugging herself tight against the cold. She really should go get her cardigan if she was going to stay outside. Considering this, she looked up to the stars. There was not a single cloud in sight. Max had frozen time just four days ago, now. She'd seen William and Rachel in some messed up waking dream. She'd even used her powers. Yet nothing felt different. No snow or anything. And even if it did snow, it was December and below 30 out, now. Snow wouldn't be so unusual.
Pondering the storm, her cold arms, and her coat —in which she hoped she had stowed her phone —Max didn't even notice the approaching footsteps. That is, she didn't notice those footsteps until the person approaching slid from the shadows and came to a stop just under the closest street lamp.
"Max Caulfield?"
She shook, not from the cold, but from fear. Max recognized that voice, and she didn't dare look in its direction.
"Oh, bloody Christmas." That manic voice beamed with joy. "Not the girl I was looking for but damn. Talk about an early Christmas gift."
She needed to look him in the eyes. She needed to run. She needed to scream. Max stood there, her cigarette slowly burning down towards the butt in an elongated pipe of ash. She didn't dare lift it for another smoke. She didn't even tap the ash. She couldn't move. She couldn't do anything. David had said he'd never let a Prescott onto this campus, yet here Nathan was. Security had been called off and now Nathan was right here, right in the periphery of her vision, if she would just turn and look.
"So… you like to take pictures while hiding out in the bathrooms?"
She wanted to say no. She wanted to deny it. She wanted to do anything other than just stand there frozen in place.
Nathan leaned over placing a hand on the bricks on either side of her head as he pushed into her personal space, pressing himself just inches from her face. A shiver rushed over her, and she could swear that a look of perverse joy had seized hold of Nathan as she shook beneath his gaze and his interminable proximity.
"You best tell me what you think you saw."
Max had to find her voice. All she could see, however, was the rage building up in this lunatic in front of her; this psychopath pressed so close to her. And his words, they were so eerily familiar, so much like their initial argument in the parking lot in that long lost timeline. Were they always destined to have this conversation?
"Answer me, bitch!"
She swallowed, trying to calm her nerves, trying to find her voice. At last a broken whisper broke forth.
"I didn't see anything."
"Don't even play stupid with me! It's common knowledge your twee bitch ass was in that bathroom, that you bitch-snitched on me."
"I'm… I-i-i…"
"Whatevathefuck!" He slammed his hand on the bricks behind her, even closer to her face this time. "J-j-j-just spit it out."
"You shot Chloe."
"Your word against mine." He leaned back, clearly gloating, and Max wanted to be relieved just to regain that space, and yet every word that poured from him made her want to wring his neck. "The Prescotts own this shithole," he continued. "Who are people going to believe? The heir apparent or some cracked out friend of a former white trash Arcadia Bay dropout."
"She wasn't trash." Max didn't even bother defending herself. She didn't care what Nathan said about her; but she did care what he said about Chloe. Her voice rose, unable to hide her anger. "She had a fucking name!"
"Don't you yell at me!" In an instant his hand seized around her neck, squeezing at her throat. "Don't you dare! You don't talk back to me. You listen!" Punctuating his point, Nathan slapped Max as he held her in place with that one hand about her neck, and then he threw her back against the bricks.
She stumbled, her back flaring upon contact, and slid to the ground. The sting of that slap stabbed into her cheeks and jaw, and her neck throbbed from the echoing pressure of Nathan's now loosed grip.
"You got me locked up! You ruined my reputation!" He stood above her, staring down, that manic anger taking over.
Max pushed herself up, swallowing down the anxiety that clawed for dominance, and pushed right into his face. "You did that all on your own."
She wasn't sure where she found the courage to speak; why suddenly she was standing up to him, but she didn't want to be this scared little girl anymore.
"Sit back down!" Nathan tore at her shoulders and slung her down forcefully to the sidewalk. Once again Max felt the rough impact, this time on her elbow and her arm as they twisted under her bearing the brunt of the fall. She could have sworn she heard a snap, and her vision flared as she bit down on her lip, inadvertently stifling a scream.
"When the time comes, you're going to own up to your lies. You understand?" Nathan paced, gesticulating wildly as he glared down at her. Why was he always so manic?
"You need some serious help, Nathan." Max shifted, rolling over and pushing herself to her feet as best as she could. Not great . As she regained her footing, Nathan was already upon her.
"Worry about yourself, Max Caulfield!" He shoved her once more. This time Max managed to reach up, clawing at his cheek as she fell back, and using the momentum of her fall to dig in deep. She could feel the skin tear, her nails cutting four strong lines across Nathan's face.
Again (?). So many echoes sang out, so many reminders of a timeline past. Her head began to hurt, that familiar throbbing taking over. Was it something to do with her powers or had she just hit her head?
She patted at the back of her scalp, her hand pulling back wet and tacky. Hell, she had hit her head. She winced from the pain and as she opened her eyes, a raging Nathan Prescott stood over her. Her balance shifted, a wave of dizziness gripping through her. Max tried to focus, to anticipate his next move, but before she could do or say anything a nightstick came crashing into Nathan's shoulder.
"Fuck!" Nathan screamed.
Max back-crawled into the grass, gasping each time she leaned against her right forearm, the pressure jolting something painful within. She kept moving, nonetheless, putting as much distance between herself and Nathan as she could. As she pushed back, a drunken and angry David Madsen hovered over her.
"You okay, Max?"
"Uh-huh." She tried to agree, but was she? Her head still throbbed, her back tensed up, and she could taste blood from a split on her lip. More, her arm ached, a dull and persistent ache that was slowly ratcheting up in intensity.
"What the fuck!" Nathan screamed and Max found her attention shifted once more to her assailant. "You can't touch me. You're not even supposed to be here!" Nathan pressed right into David's face, either too enraged or too stupid to realize how bad a move that was to pull.
David grabbed Nathan's throat, charging with him in hand and slamming him back against the bricks much as Nathan had done to Max just moments earlier.
"You fucking killed her!" He punched Nathan, sending blood gushing from his nose. He pulled back and punched again. "You killed my wife's daughter!" His fist connected with Nathan's jaw this time, and Nathan's head bounced against the bricks with a sickening thunk. Drawing back a final time, David came down for one more blow. "You killed my stepdaughter!"
He might have been aiming for Nathan's nose, again (Max couldn't tell), but David was still very drunk and his fist glanced off the boy's cheek instead. The force of David's blow carried the man's fist into the bricks, sending David stumbling back and providing Nathan the perfect opportunity to turn the tables. Nathan took his shot. Bloody and dazed, he pulled in close to the larger man, holding tight to David's back so that as he kneed upwards his aim was practically guaranteed, pressing the man exactly where he wanted him to go. David fell in a fetal ball, clutching at his groin. Before he was even down, Nathan began kicking him over and over.
"No one touches me! You hear me!" Blood and spit flew as Nathan screamed. "No one! You're done! You're over! We will end you!" Each footfall elicited a new groan from the downed security guard, and every so often brought with it a revolting crunch.
David wasn't Max's favorite person. Hell, he didn't even rank, but she didn't want to see him hurt. Not like this. She could feel her nerves pulsing through her system, that anxiety poisoning her, freezing her in place, yet if she didn't act, if she did nothing… She pushed at her eyes, reveling in the pressure of her palms, and screamed, purging the rapidly escalating anxieties from her system as best as she could; then she charged, throwing herself into Nathan's stomach in an attempted tackle. Nathan stood his ground, barely flinching as Max smacked into his side.
"Twee bitch! Get off!" He shifted, and hurled Max to the side, tripping her as he did. She held her hands out, her palms scraping against the concrete, but also just barely preventing her from face-planting. A shock shot up her previously twisted arm as she landed and skidded across the sidewalk and she nearly blacked out. That arm might have been worse off than she thought.
The diversion, however, was enough. David flipped open the clasp of his holster and grabbed for his gun. No, Max didnt' want this. Guns never turned out well. She didn't want Nathan to hurt David, but she didn't want David to shoot the bastard either. That wouldn't solve anything.
Max reached out her hand, and a flash of pain blinded her once more. It had to be that arm. She could feel the threads of time flowing, just there, just teasing at her grasp, yet with the pain cutting through her, every movement brought with it a wave of agony. Just a little bit more, and time would bend to her will, flow as she directed; yet every fraction of movement was a world of hurt. She was too slow.
Nathan spotted David's hand going for the gun, and kicked David in the jaw. David's head snapped back and he fell over his gun slipping from its holster. Instantly Nathan lunged for it.
Max pushed back to her feet. She had to stop this before it went too far, before she had no choice but to rewind, if she even could through the overwhelming pain that the mere attempt to do so sent up her arm.
As she charged towards Nathan once more, flying now on pure adrenaline, a set of soft hands hauled her back.
"Max!" Victoria wrapped herself around her, struggling to pull her away. "We have to go."
"But –"
Nathan had the gun now, raising it towards David. The guard didn't even try to get to his feet. Instead, David kicked out, tangling Nathan's legs between his own, and sent him careening to the side. As he fell, a gunshot rang out, shattering the night.
"David!" Max strained towards him, reaching out and flexing her hand to rewind, but her head exploded in pure agony as she struggled to seize time with what must have been a broken arm. She was going to have to go to the hospital. No way around it. Well, that is, if she survived whatever the hell was happening here with Nathan.
David rolled over. He didn't appear to be hurt, not shot at any rate, although the strain of his movements suggested that he had yet to recover from the knee to his groin.
Max forced her eyes to stay open through the pain, looking back to Victoria then over to Nathan. Apparently no one appeared to have been hit by the bullet, but nonetheless it was all happening too fast. The chaos of the encounter had rapidly gotten out of hand, and she couldn't see any way to reel it back in. Even as she struggled to find some possible resolution, David grabbed his gun once more.
It rested just out of reach, having slid across the sidewalk after Nathan toppled over. Nathan's eyes widened as David inched closer, then seized the weapon. Rising up, the man was clearly prepared to shoot. Max had seen that look in David's eyes before – in the Dark Room.
All around, Max felt the memories bleeding in.
Chloe was pinned against the wall, Nathan pressing the gun to her gut "Get that gun away from me psycho!"
She pushed him back and the gun fired.
"No!" Max ran out from behind the stall.
FLASH!
"Step the fuck back now!" Chloe had the gun in her hand as Fank backed towards the RV. He opened the door and Pompidou came charging out. She fired.
"Pompidou! You fucking killed my dog." Frank pulled a knife from his jacket. The gun sounded again, another bang, another body falling.
FLASH!
"You took away my stepdaughter"
A pause…Max reached out.
"David, wait!"
The gun fired!
"Hands where we can see them!" A new voice, loud and deep cut through Max's memories. She shot her hands to the air not knowing who the mystery man was addressing. David froze, the gun still in his grip. She could see the debate in his eyes, his reluctance to let Nathan escape struggling with his own feeble sense of self-preservation..
"David!" Max cried. Something broke in him and David shifted, dropping the gun to the grass.
Two men in dark suits brushed past Max, shoving her aside.
Well, that was uncalled for.
One of the men immediately latched onto Nathan, hauling him away. The other stayed, gun drawn eying Max, Victoria, and David.
"He was never here, you understand?"
The man had a gruff face, covered in day-old stubble, and a prominently bent nose. His skin seemed hardened, almost weathered. This was a man that had lived hard. Yet, everything else about him spoke of money and professionalism. He wore a crisp, fitted suit; just fancy enough to be professional, casual enough to allow for freedom of movement. Max could also swear she saw an earbud in one ear.
"Never here," the man repeated, picking up David's gun and ejecting the clip.
"Fuck no." It came out slurred, but David's rejection of the suggestion was clear.
"The record from his ankle monitor will prove he never left home," the man said. As he spoke, he pocketed the ejected clip, then emptied the chamber. "Anything you say to the contrary will be met with a defamation suit. Do you understand?"
Realization began to dawn on David's face. Max could see it. He knew these fuckers would get away with it. They owned the town and it would be his word against the Prescotts. He'd never win.
Victoria spoke up. "That's bullshit."
"Ms. Chase, you'll kindly listen to reason. You know the Prescotts have a direct line to your father. We wouldn't want him to hear anything untoward would we? The publicity could be bad for Chase Enterprises."
Beside Max, Victoria froze, the veiled threat not veiled so much as to be lost on her.
"As for the two of you, it's clear you have an ax to grind. My condolences for your daughter," the man nodded towards David. "And for your friend." Another nod, this time for Max. "I can't imagine how hard that grief must be. How it might make one need for someone to blame, someone to hurt. I'm afraid an Arcadia Bay jury might see likewise." At that, he tossed David's now unloaded gun to the side, off into the grass.
A vein pulsed on David's forehead, the ex-soldier ready to explode. Max tried to stumble towards him, to offer him some support, but her own head still pounded and the pain in her arm had built to an excruciating degree. She staggered and Victoria caught her.
"You should get that checked out miss." The man gestured towards Max's arm. "A drunken tumble like that, it can really do some damage. You wouldn't want to underestimate that."
Then he turned, ambling down the sidewalk and towards the back lot, just as a small crowd of onlookers began to turn the corner from the front of the gym.
David clenched and unclenched his fists at his side, attempting to suppress his anger. Meanwhile, Victoria gently hugged Max, then pushed back to get a good look at her.
"You okay?"
Max took in her swollen arm. She felt the pain in her lower lip and her cheek, and the throbbing on the back of her head. With every breath, she felt the strain of her bruised throat. Nothing felt okay.
"Not really," she said, relaxing into Victoria's embrace.
"Guess not. Come on. I'll get you to the hospital."
"Okay." Max hung her head. "Thanks… No one was hurt?"
"You mean other than you and Nathan?"
"Yeah."
They both looked over to David, hobbling over, clutching his side, his mouth bloody where Nathan had kicked him in the jaw. He nodded back at them. "You need a lift girls?"
"Yeah, no," Victoria responded, turning Max back to the parking lot. "Maybe an escort to my car, though."
David grunted. "Yeah. I can do that."
A silence fell between them. As they staggered off, confused party goers gawked from the quad but refused to come any closer to the paranoid security guard and the unexpected trio hobbling their way back to the lot. The End of the Year Bash had come to a truly spectacular and definite end, and yet no one knew exactly what had happened: no one but the Prescotts, those in their employ, and the threatened parties that now made their silent and painful retreat.
Much as Max felt relieved that they had all made it through the encounter alive, a new worry bubbled up as her anxiety took hold once more. Nathan didn't plan to go to jail and, right now, Max stood as the primary obstacle between him and his desired freedom.
That bodes well, she thought, and gripped tighter to Victoria. The semester was out, but somehow Max felt certain that her troubles were only just beginning.