A/N: Hang on there folks. You're going to want to pause and read Childhood's End (my short story, not the Clark novel :-) if you want to see what Max dreamed about. Although a familiarity with chapter 4 in LiS is fine, too.

"...I want this time with you to be my last memory. Do you understand? All you have to do is just crank up the IV to eleven."

I rise up from the bed, drenched in a cold sweat, heart pounding. I didn't cry out, at least I don't think I did, but I feel like I must have.

I make my way into the tiny closet of the bathroom, splashing water on my face, and getting a glass to gulp down, letting the last lingering tendrils of anxiety evaporate. Slowly recovering from the avalanche of memories, things I'd barely forgotten slamming back into my awareness.

I sit down on the edge of the bed, staring down at the floor in contemplative thought. I don't even hear Chloe slide up onto her knees, but the warmth and closeness of her as she wraps herself around me from behind envelopes me completely. I give a soft shudder of pleasure, tense muscles relaxing, heart racing just a bit less, as I quickly reach up, thread my fingers through hers.

"Everything okay, baby?" she whispers out hoarsely, voice thick with sleep.

"I'm...it was just a nightmare. I'm okay, now. Much better." I give a soft little smile, pushing my back against her chest, leaning against her. She tilts my head up and kisses my lips, brushes her fingertips against my cheeks. The actual tears aren't there anymore, but I can feel her soothing away the emotional toil they've left behind.

"Tell me about it?" Asked not like a question, more an invitation. A reminder that since we're in it for the long haul now, we need to support each other.

I swallow hard, inhale sharply through my nose, and steel myself for the reply. "Are you sure you want to? It...it has to do with your Dad."

She pauses, laying her forehead against the back of my shoulder, before murmuring, "Wondered if it did. Especially after what happened last night. Sweetie, I know I was a shitty bitch to you after you first told me the story, but I just want you to know, I'm not angry anymore. That's all in the past. I understand why you couldn't...why you had to leave it be."

I make myself turn around and face her, placing my forehead against hers, reaching up combing my fingers through her violet locks. I can't chicken out of what I have to tell her next.

"There's more to it than what you know, Che. I only told you about how I saved your Dad. That it caused a timeline to be created where you became paralyzed, and that I undid it all to bring you back the way you were before. You didn't hear the rest of it. There are a lot of details that I just kind of..." I start to drift away, unable to complete the line of thought.

She pulls me back all the way into bed, lays is down together, and pulls the comforter over us. Cradles me in her arms and kisses my hair and forehead. "I didn't give you a chance. I went from zero to bitch in two seconds and kicked you out of my hospital room for a week."

I don't answer right away, choosing instead to snuggle in close against her, breathe in the scent of her skin. She's so warm right now, pressed up against me; it's soothing, down to my bones, like a sauna after a cold winter's day. Despite the maternal, protective quality of the moment, at the same time, my libido can't help but rev up, and I silently laugh at myself.

"Yeah. And I was so, so, so grateful when you started talking to me again that I just let it lie. And as the weeks and months went by, so many of my memories of that other timeline faded away. Repressed, may be a good way of describing it though. God. I swear, I remember remembering the details still, just a bit, when I told you, and then I remember not remembering until just now. Does...that make any sense to you?"

Continuing to stroke my back, she says, "Sweetie, from everything you've said and shown me, I think most people would be locked up in the loony bin for life afterwards. You're strong, baby. You're my SuperMax. But even you have your limits. And maybe you have like...PTSD or something? Trauma?" She takes my hand, kisses the one she placed a ring upon not even twelve hours ago, and continues. "Just tell me everything you remember now, okay? Not gonna lie, it may be hard for me to hear, but if we're gonna be a married couple for real, we need to be together through the bad shit as well as the good."

I nod, and push back a wave of panic welling up in my throat. "Okay. You're right, you're...so I just told you a bit. You know, my shock, seeing you in that wheelchair. Feeling guilty, because it turns out I was a shitty friend in that timeline too. How you were paralyzed from the neck down, and in constant pain, and needed morphine all the time. But...oh, Chloe. Suddenly I can remember seeing how sad your parents were. They were trying their best to keep a brave front, but between the millions of dollars of care required, and...and what the doctors were saying...oh God, the toll it was taking on them."

"What the doctors were saying? Wouldn't they not have much more to tell'em, unless it was 'Hey, we figured out how to fix your daughter."? She gives a little laugh and I smile, just a little. Despite the punk attitude she's woven for herself from the anger and hardship of the past few years, there's still such an innocent naivete, one that withered and dropped off from Alternate Chloe. Not so much cynicism, but grimness.

And that was what I think upset me the most. Seeing that in her.

"It...it wasn't good, Che. It's not like the damage is done, and then life goes on forever, baby. Your spine snapped in half, and that...takes a toll."

Oh God. How do I tell her? How do I say the next part? I try to push the words out, and can't find the strength to cross that threshold. Not yet, anyway.

Chloe easily senses my hesitation, kisses my earlobe and whispers. "It's okay. Please. I need to hear it, Max."

It gives me the kick I need, and it comes out in a hurry, like a cork popping from a bottle. "You were dying, Chloe. You were dying. The doctors and your parents were trying to keep it from you, hoping for a miracle, that things would improve but...but a few weeks before we met again, you overheard them talk about it, when they thought you were knocked out. Your respiratory system was just...breaking down. It was only a matter of time. They may it sound like a year or two. Maybe just a few months, really."

Chloe lies still as she takes it in. I always wonder what it must be like to be in her shoes. To be told these fantastic stories, then have to take them all largely on faith. To hear about this other her, someone she'll never be or meet. Does she ever believe me with all of her heart, or is there still a niggling bit of doubt in the back of her mind? Somehow, the pictures came back with me, when I jumped all the way to the start of the cycle. I have no idea why, but I was able to at least prove to her I wasn't completely insane. Still, does it leave any room for doubt?

But I didn't have anything to show her, nothing left over from that particular alternate timeline. This was something Chloe was going to have to take completely at face value. It's almost a minute before I realize she hasn't said anything. She sees the fear well up in my eyes, and lays a comforting finger across my lips.

"I asked you to help me die, didn't I?"

My eyes go wide, and I feel like I've been roundhouse kicked in the head by reality.

"H-how could you know that?! How could you possibly..."

She pulls my face to hers, kissing me hard and short, before answering. "Might be another Chloe, but she's still me, right? I just...I thought about what you just told me. About what I think *I* would do, if I was in that situation. My parents both drowning in debt, and I know I would have tried to keep fighting, keep surviving, as long as there was hope. But the minute it was obvious I was going down for good? I'd grip that bitch Death by the ribcage and tell it I if I was a dead woman, I'd die on my terms."

I bite down hard on my bottom lip, fresh tears welling anew.

She continues, "But she and I have had the same experience, you know? The girl from five years in our past suddenly arriving, right when we were both about to die. I remember, when I woke up from that coma, and I was super hella psyched I was alive. At the same time, I realized if I died, at least I would have had an amazing last memory. Same thing probably went through her head. She wanted to go out with one last happy day under her belt."

I start to tremble, shaking with sobs again.

She whispers out against my ear, more for my benefit than hers.

"What did you do?"

The only thing I could do was tell her, "W-what do you think I did?"

I prayed that she understood. That she'd figure it out, the same way she incredibly intuited the situation a couple minutes before. The look on her face told me everything I needed to know.

I started to lose it, my voice wet and warped, "Ch-che. What do I do? I forgot so much of that. I can't believe it, but I did! How could that happen? It fucking scares me! What if something's wrong with my brain? What if I'm going to lose my mind, and...and what if there's other shit that I'm suppressing, things a lot, lot worse than that?"

She cocoons herself around me, and shh's softly. "It's okay. It's okay." She repeats. "It's okay, baby. I'm sorry, I don't know the answers to any of that. Kinda out of my league. But I know I love you, and I know nothing's going to change that. And I'm always going to be by your side, and you aren't alone in this." She squeezes me hard. "Whatever happens, we'll get through it together." She pulls back, so I can get a good look at her face, once I get the tears out of my eyes.

"We have to. 'Cause now that I tricked you into wearing that engagement ring, you legally own me. So you're stuck with me now, babydoll."

I shut my eyes tightly and start to laugh. The fear, and the sadness, and the giddy joy all smash together, jangling against my nerves. God, it hurts so much, but in the best way possible.

There isn't much talking that we do afterwards, at least not with words. One nightmare may be over, but there could be more to come. I don't know what's on the horizon...maybe nothing, maybe something that makes this look like a walk in the park. But I know I'm not afraid, as long as I have my Chloe by my side.

You call me the strong one...but what does it say when I call you my rock? Don't you ever sell yourself short, Chloe Price.

As the Princess Sparklefists Express pulls into the town limits, Chloe bops herself on the head with the flat of her palm.

"Can't believe we're back in Arcadia Bay, barely even three months later. God I feel like..."

I glance over towards her curiously, finishing up the rest of my smoothie from our last rest stop. "Like what, Che?"

"I don't know. Does it sound funny if I say 'a failure'? I just thought we'd never be coming back. Well no, not never coming back, but just a lot, lot longer than three months. Like years. Like we'd be coming back years later, and you'd be this smart-as-balls college graduate, and I'd be this fabulous, famous tattoo artist, and there'd be a parade and all kinds of crazy shit."

I start to snicker, "With elephants and acrobats..."

She smiles wider, "Principal Wells would be there to personally apologize for being a dick to us."

"And there would be groupies lining the streets, whipping off their shirts and wanting you to tattoo your name across their chest."

She bites down on her lip and giggles, "Stop teasing me! Now I'm going to have to fight extra hard not to write 'Stay Hella, Love Chloe Price" the next time some woman comes in and wants me to ink her breasts."

I sit up, because this is a situation that had seriously not occurred to me before; I realize I see so little of Chloe in her professional life.

"Wait. You make it sound like this is something that happens to you all the time!"

"Not allll the time, but yeah, I've probably had to tattoo at least four or five women on the chest since I started. Usually on one or both breasts" She smiles with exaggerated lewdness.

I playfully slap her shoulder. "You pig!"

"Baby, please! I'm super professional about it! It's just another customer, and I'm working on just another canvas. Besides, I pretend all the chests I ink are yours."

I shake my head, smiling from ear to ear. "I don't know if that makes me infuriated or delighted." I then feel a hot blush run across my face and neck.

Chloe glances over at me for a moment, before turning her attention back to the road. "Ohhhhhh daaaamn. You're thinking about it!"

"Th-thinking about what?" I say, as I shift in my seat.

"About me tattooing you some more. Liiiike maybe on the chest..."

"Shut up! I-I...I so totally..." I groan and give up trying to fight it. "...am." I polish off the rest of my drink, and toss the container in the little trash bucket on the floor. "Damnit, you won't be happy until I'm as inked up as you."

"Maaaaybe more." she sing-songs.

"Anyhow, remember: we're only here because The Man won't let us have a shiny, shiny motorcycle without a license. And we have to come back to our legal state of residence. It's not a failure or whatever the hell weird thing you're worrying about. It's a stop on the road to continued awesomeness."

Chloe gently pounds on the steering wheel, "Yeah! You're right!"

I quickly add, "But be a good girl and tell your Mom you missed her, too. Just a little. Okay? She'd really like that."

Shaking her head and laughing, Chloe says, "God. We really are like an old married couple now, aren't we?"

Still, I can't help but feel a small, giddy rush when we pull up to Joyce and David's house. I swear, I spent more time here growing up as a kid than I did at my folks house when we still lived in Arcadia Bay. Then when I returned, it became a haven, in so many different ways, down so many different timelines. It's clear that the extra money Joyce came into has been put to good use; the paint on the house is finally taken care of, for one thing. And a few small bits of sprucing up here and there. Hell, the mortgage might be finally close to being paid off, and that would put a lot of money back into their pockets as well.

Joyce and David are there to meet us, smiling and waving. They look good. I'd never tell Chloe this in a million years, but maybe fleeing the nest and giving them weeks and months to reconnect, free of their daughter's involvement, was a good thing for them. Chloe's sooo in a better place now, and I'd like to think maybe David is too. They don't hug, but they shake hands, and he even smiles when he sees her.

"Congrats, you two. Um. We're really happy for you both." And you know, I think he actually means it. I honestly have no clue how he feels about same-sex relationships; I'm going to guess he wasn't exactly a fan, starting out, but he's managed to come around to a comfortable acceptance. That's okay, at least that's a good start. There are so many different ways it could go, horrible ones, that I'll take a quiet, if unenthusiastic peace, over outright disdain any day.

I actually give him a hug; I think it surprises us both. Probably me more than him. Those days when we were antagonists don't exist for him. In his mind, I'm the shy art student who saved his step-daughter's life ending at the hands of a gun wielding sicko. I've seen him at his worst, but I've also seen more of him on his good days. The decent man inside trying to exist in the present moment. As much as I may wish for it to be William, he's going to be my father-in-law someday, and I think outside of the context of having to deal with each other in Blackwell, we could get along just fine.

(I hope)

Joyce is ebullient, wants to see the ring immediately. Crushes me with what feels like a thousand hugs. This has got to be a bit of a dream come true for her, in a way. I like to think she always saw me as a second daughter, someone who was good for her own, and that she deeply cared for. I suppose I was always part of the family, in her mind, but this just seals the legal deal. That, and if Chloe and I are going to settle down together, that just makes it more likely one of us will get choose to get pregnant eventually, and then Joyce'll be a grandma, and then...

(GAH! Note to self: It is way too soon to even think about that kind of thing. Abort! Abort!)

We move immediately to dinner, the final few fingers of light stretching out in low, long slats across the street as we make our way inside the house, silently broadcasting the change in the season.

October in Arcadia Bay...shit. Why did we come back now?

Damnit, I'm not sure how I'm going to handle being here. We'll definitely be staying long enough to run into the year anniversary of That Peculiar Week. Old ghosts of the past nip at my heels already.

Fuck it, you know what? I'm here, and it's time to make good memories, to banish the old.

Those good memories start with Joyce's home cooking: chicken and waffles. Ridiculously Southern for the Pacific Northwest, but holy shit does she make them sooooo good. I feel like a total pig, but I seriously have seconds. I might have even considered thirds, but there's pecan pie coming as well. Guess it's a theme night tonight.

Confession time: I was expecting there to be some stress. A feeling of unease, like we were interloping on their territory. Or maybe Chloe and David would start back up again with the old friction, but it was...

...it was nice. Like we're all so adult.

"So Chloe, Joyce tells me you're training to be a tattoo artist."

It's asked earnestly, that much I can tell. Still, I tense for a moment, as I gaze over to see how Chloe takes it. Because I can sense the wheels working in her brain, as she tries to make the call: is his question an honest conversation starter? Or an opening gambit to a whole spiel about how she needs to make more out of her life?" Her eyes start to narrow, reflexively...

...and then stop.

She was good to her word, about Angry Blue Chloe being a thing of the past. She actually smiles. Like, I can't remember the last time - or a first time - when she smiled like that to him and says, "Yup. No real schools or licensing for this sort of thing, but with the RV, it lets us be really flexible, you know? I made contacts with some really quality people in the biz, and while I'm barely making anything right now, I'm getting a ton of experience. Building up a portfolio. 'Cause you know uh...I gotta pay the dues. But, uh, yeah. Yeah, this is what I want out of life, at least for now, and this is how I get there."

This is more like the Chloe I remember. The hard working, academic girl from our early teen years. I mean, she's grown up. She's still a crazy, sexy, punk stoner, but she's taking a lot of that out-of-control anger and frustration and focusing it.

I reach under the table and squeeze her hand, as if to tell her: I knew you could do it. I'm proud, of you, baby.

The conversation falls into an easy groove between the two of them from that point on. He asks her questions about what she does, about tattooing in general, how safe is it, how do they keep things clean. Could he see her work sometime?

And Chloe is a pro already; she absolutely loveloveloves talking about this stuff with people. Joyce and I just smile at each other as we watch them converse.

Chloe laughs lightly at one point, "Geeze, David, you aren't thinking of getting one yourself, are you?"

He chuckles, actually laughs himself, and rubs the back of his head nervously. "As a matter of fact, uh, some of the guys from my old unit and I are gonna have a reunion. Thinking of getting something to mark the occasion, to remember the bond we all share."

Chloe swallows her mouthful of pie. "Oh! Wow, yeah. Hey, that would be awesome! I mean, I don't know...if you're asking me if I could do it. I probably need a few more weeks of training before I feel confident to work solo, but...well, there's one shop in town, and we might talk them into letting me work for them for a little while or something and..."

"That's okay, it won't be for a while yet. Probably not until next Summer. Plenty of time."

I rise up and start to clear the dishes. "Well, if you two boys will excuse me, I'll just let you talk shop while I clean the table up." I gently wave Joyce's hands away. "S'okay. I've got it. You just sit down and enjoy." We smile sweetly to each other, and I drift into the kitchen, carefully washing dishes and silverware in the sink.

Joyce calls out, "Why don't I make us all some coffee!" and then walks into the kitchen, leaving Chloe and David to continue chatting away. She then hugs me tightly from behind as I continue to work. After she lets me go, and starts working in earnest to brew a pot of decaf, she murmurs, "Would you just look at them, Max? I mean, he's never going to replace William. He knows that, he's not trying, but just look at the two of them together, talking." She shakes her head, and she wipes at an eye briefly. "Something tells me I have you to thank for all this."

I laugh low, still smiling. "Chloe just needed..uh...a purpose in life, I guess? I mean, I could try and take her to the river, but she had to decide she wanted to drink. Plus, almost dying...sorry to bring that up again, Joyce, but that changes a person. Makes them appreciate what they're doing with their life. Just saying, make sure you give Chloe her props too, because she's a hell of a woman."

"Oh, Max Caulfield, I don't need you to tell me what I know already." She turns, cocks her hips against the counter. "And for the record, young lady, you don't call me Joyce any longer?"

I can't my head to the side as I continue to scrub one of the plates. "Oh?"

"Nu-uh. It's Mom, now. Momma, if you're feeling partial to the notion. I mean hell, you've been my other daughter for years now. This just makes it official."

I look down into the sink, feeling self-conscious, but my smile grows by leaps and bounds. "Ah...kay. Hee. It's gonna take time to get used to, but I'll do my best..." I pause and try it on for size. "Mom."

She gives me a bit of a look, and I amend to, "Momma."

Okay. That actually doesn't feel half bad!

"Speaking of which, J-...omma.". I lay a hand on hers. "Thank you. That was so so sweet. I mean with the engagement ring and..." I then hold my hand back up to my face and just sort of hug it close.

She starts to fuss at my hair, like she's noticed for the first time that I dyed it black. "Hmmm, seems someone's been an influence on you, much as you've been on them. Still, suits you." Switching back onto track, Joyce says, "Oh, sweetie. William, he, ah..you know. He would have wanted it that way. Demanded it. Better to have it on your finger, living life, than sitting in an old jewellery box, a relic of the past...no matter how treasured it's been." She put the pot to brew, and added, "Plus, beyond the nicer sentimental reasons, it's money that daughter of mine doesn't have to spend. I love her, but I'm sure she wouldn't have a lick of sense when it comes to buying a proper engagement ring. Which reminds me: I hate to ask, but you're not here because of money issues, are you hon?" She glances towards the dining area, and murmurs, "It's not about you, but I know Chloe and money management aren't the best of friends..."

I laugh brightly, maybe a little too loudly, and clamp a hand over my mouth. "No! No, we're good. I mean, we're not rolling in dough, but we have enough that I've set aside a starter nest egg for the future...I made her agree to that before we started off on our little adventure. And um...aaactualllllly...the main reason we're here is because we think we're going to buy a motorcycle to add to the RV. But we need to get licensed up first."

She steps back and looks me over. I wouldn't say that she's disappointed, but she does cover her eyes, as if she's overcome with fatigue and murmurs, "Oh girls. I know you're young, and you feel like you need to cut wild, but..."

I hold up a hand to gently interrupt, "It's okay, Mom, I swear! I wouldn't be doing this if we didn't have the money to spare. Because..." I turn away, and focus on cleaning a bowl, "Chloe won thirty grand in Vegas. And I'm making sure that at least a few thousand of that went into our nest egg."

Joyce coughs hard for a moment, like she swallowed the wrong way. "Good lord!"

"Joyce, you all right?" David's voice calls out.

"Just fine, honey! Just..." she drifts back towards me and hisses, "Thirty grand! How in God's name did...do I even want to know?!"

I casually wave a dismissive hand. "No biggie. She just took a thousand dollars of the money you gave her and bet it on roulette."

Joyce white knuckles one of the mugs she pulls down from the cabinet. "But...but she's not twenty-one!"

I shrug, "I don't know how it works in other casinos, but the Luxor on a Saturday night is surprisingly lax about checking id's."

"And they didn't ask for anything when you suddenly came up and try to cash in all those chips?"

Proceeding to the towel drying, I answer, "Well no, but mostly because we didn't try that. I made her take all the chips back to our RV, freaked out all over her for pulling such a crazy ass stunt, and then figured out that if we spent the next seven days cashing in small amounts, we'd get away with it. I even put aside enough for taxes, if-slash-when it comes up."

Giving a soft sigh, Joyce says, "Oh Max. I suppose girls will be girls. I'm just glad...you just keep a tight rein on Chloe, okay? I'm counting on you."

I laugh and lean in to kiss her cheek, "Yes, Momma. I promise, I'm breaking her in like an untamed stallion...or something." I then quickly switch topics, "Tell you what, we're not going to be here much longer than a week or two, I think. How about I take over some shifts from you at the Two Whales, starting tomorrow? You still work afternoon-evening on Tuesdays, right? I'll even slip you the pay back."

She blinks."Darlin', you do NOT need to work at the diner, let alone for free, while you're here visiting!"

Again, I shrug, "But I want to. I like the people at the diner, and I figured it would be nice for you and Chloe to spend time together. It's um...I figure what a good daughter-in-law is for, right?"

She shakes her head emphatically and gives me one last big hug. "How did we end up with someone as sweet as you in this family?"

I return it, then put the remaining dishwashing aside to help plate the coffee cups, and murmur, with a little glint in my eye. "I don't know. If I'm playing the long con, it better be a good one, huh?" She pinches my side playfully and I give a giggle, before we bring the coffee out.

"Wow, that was...really nice." Chloe says, still incredulous at how well she and David got along at dinner, both of us lying back on her bed in her old room. Her parents both had been making noises about reclaiming the space someday soon, but for now, that last sacred piece of childhood is still here, still waiting to enfold us, give us sanctuary.

"Don't be so shocked. People change. You've changed, certainly. The nature of your relationship's changed with him. There isn't all this anger and drama between the two of you, and despite his faults, your step-dad can be an okay guy."

The words still feel strange coming out of my mouth. There was a time when Chloe would constantly complain about "the step-douche" and I'd be right there at her side, egging her on. It's so different from the dark and twisted path we all took together before I wiped it all out; the images of David, broken and defeated, kicked out of the house, swim up in my head, but I quickly banish them.

I don't want to deal with it. Maybe someday, but not tonight.

Frankly, I'd be happy if I never, ever remembered all those shitty times, ever again.

"Yeah. I guess. I don't know why this keeps surprising me though. Life is strange sometimes, you know?"

I just roll my eyes. "Not that strange."

Chloe begins to pull at he hair in frustration, "Yeah but...ugh! I was such a rebel not that long ago. Part of me feels like I'm not being true to myself if I don't stay angry, you know, even though I know that's bullshit. But God, I feel like such a fucking grown-up adult right now. Can we do something about this, please? Like right now?"

"Have you tried bringing a little more 'hella' back into your vocabulary?"

She gives me a playful kick, "Smart ass."

"Fine Little Miss Hope-I-Die-Before-I-Get-Old. Why don't we get hellllaaaa stoned, find a late night movie playing somewhere, something terrible we don't really want to watch, so we can curl up in the back and make out."

"Ohhhhhhh!" Chloe says, with a little bit of a purr. "Would there be heavy petting?"

"I'll be rather disappointed if you don't at least attempt some mild to moderate fingerbanging, so I sure as hell hope so!"

Chloe bursts out laughing, rises up and grabs my hand, pulling me to the door. "You had me at hella, baby. You had me at hella."

A/N: Heyyy look at that. I actually managed to get a new chapter in. I forgot how easy and even therapeutic writing fluff can be. Plus I've been so crazy with writing chapters ahead of time for Black Swan, I could take a little time on this. Still probably gonna be a bit slow updating this series, but as you can see, I haven't forgotten my fluff fandom either. :-)