October 2011

Dear Chloe,

Max stares down hard at the sheet of paper she's writing on. Another letter to Chloe. Another letter that'll never get sent out. But only because now, she doesn't ever bother to post them.

Even after a year of lies, of being told 'I promise you it went out in the mail. But you know, friends grow apart. Maybe she's just too busy to write back?' or 'Sorry, but the censor couldn't let it go out.', she still did her best, hoping against hope. Sending out a letter at least every month.

That all changed last year, during one of Reese's classes on psychological tactics and manipulation, when the realization struck her like a bolt of lightning.

I've been giving the enemy valuable insight into mental state. My vulnerabilities. Shit!

She stopped sending letters out; but she never stopped writing them.

Nowadays, she retreats to a small, lonesome nook in the machinery sub-basement, where hardly anyone else goes. One small alcove provides her just enough blessed relief from the noise and smell, and keeps her away from everyone else for a while, with the added bonus of a disused but still perfectly functional hatch that leads straight to the incinerator; the ideal place to dispose of her letters once she was done pouring her heart out.

She pauses, gathering her thoughts, then starts writing again.

I know you'll never get this but I have to write it. This one's really important.

It's been three years now. Almost to the day. When they told me I had to leave town, in order to save it. When they took me away from my parents. My school. The only home I ever knew.

When they took me away from you.

I just wanted to say...I hate you.

I hate you so much right now.

This place is the fucking worst! They never let me go out. Maybe once in a while, and I'm always surrounded by asshole guards. And it's always with that bitch Nicole too, because she can stop my powers from working. I mean fuck, you'd think they'd at least let me have a little fun if they can zilch me. But they keep saying they can't take any chances. Treat me like I'm a stupid little kid, worse than that, treat me like I'm a weapon that's inconveniently sentient.

I hate the way they're trying to turn me into a good little soldier. I hate the way they're teaching me to fight, and use guns, and be a spy, and all the stuff you thought would be cool and fun to play pretend at when we were kids.

Let me tell you something, bitch, the reality sucks! Everybody treats me like I'm a rabid dog that's going to bite them. It's like they can't fucking make up their mind. Am I a person or a weapon? In the end, I guess they figure I'm a gun, and as long as they think they can point me in the right direction, they'll at least be kind enough to keep me oiled and cleaned and kept in the box when they don't need me.

But this is all your fault! You and your stupid Dad!

If William hadn't died, and if you could have just sucked it up and not been such a crybaby, I wouldn't have gone back in time. None of this would have happened. I could have had a normal life. And yeah, it would have fucking sucked for you, but you would have gotten over it. You lost your Dad, boo hoo hoo!

I LOST MY WHOLE FUCKING LIFE!

BECAUSE OF YOU!

Because I was stupid and tried to make you happy. Because that's all I ever wanted to do, was making you so happy! And you never appreciated it! Because you never knew!

The rage swells up in her chest, and she holds it in there, until it threatens to claw it's way out from her.

"I hate you!" she screams out at the paper, before viciously balling it up. She then bursts into sobs, thinking back on everything she just wrote. Holding her face in her hands.

"I miss everything about you." she whimpers out.

November 2011

Camilla glided smoothly into Martinet's office, hands held tightly behind her back. Her face was as placid as the calm ocean before the storm, but the steel in her eyes was infinitely more dangerous. She stepped up straight to the Director's desk.

Martinet glared up at her, clearly in the middle of something and not pleased at being interrupted.

"Agent Davies, you will knock first and wait for me to answer before simply barging. You may be the head of Field Operations, but..."

With barely constrained anger, she cut him off, "Did you know about this, Paul? Of course you did, silly question. The buck does, after all, stop with you."

"Well, perhaps if you bothered to inform me of whatever 'crime' I should be castigated for?"

"Max. Does she know? Does she have any idea that you've been conducting around-the-clock video monitoring of her private quarters? Is there a reason *I* was never informed about this decision, and most importantly of all, did she ever consent to any of it?"

Martinet removed his glasses and began to wipe them down, a tell that Camilla caught on to when they first met; he was caught off guard.

"Even at Deuteronomy-3, your security clearance hardly makes you privy, let alone a valid contributor to every command decision made by myself and the rest of the leadership in Homeland Security. Now, Agent Wright has been filing a series of status reports. She growing increasingly alarmed about Max's..."

Camilla snorted sharply. "Nicole! Why am I not bloody surprised?"

Martinet's voice countered, taking on a sharper tone, "...about Max's progressively improving abilities, combined with her increasingly rebellious attitude towards her. She requested that we start monitoring Max at all times as a security precaution. Something I was more than happy to grant; hell, the issue came up during the quarterly review with the Secretary of DHS, and she had no problems with..."

Camilla snapped, "Of course she's being bloody rebellious. Of course she is, dammit! She's sixteen; hell, closer to seventeen, biologically! Teenagers are all terrible little shits! It's in their DNA. She and Nicole have been butting heads for well over a year now, and to be perfectly frank, Agent Wright has contributed more than her fair share to antagonizing Max. But being rebellious is what children do when they grow up, they test boundaries, they assert their own identities. Or are we all so pathetically old and frightened that we've forgotten these basics? My God, if anything, I'm shocked that Max isn't worse, so much worse, when you consider the fact that for the past three years, we've more or less held her as a virtual prisoner, and pushed her in ways we barely would considering doing to a first year field recruit!"

Martinet pushed back. "Agent Davies! I appreciate that you and Max are close, but this is no time to allow your feelings to cloud your judgement, with regards to security matters. You of all people should be able to view this situation in the proper logical context!"

"Proper...logical...context?" she tasted each word bitterly in her mouth, disbelieving. "Do you want to hear about what's logical? It's logical that when girls mature into women, their bodies change accordingly. And proper? Oh I'm sorry, what's proper about it then, when I pass by the security office earlier tonight, and discover a couple of the more brutish louts we've hired watching her in the shower?!"

Martinet's face fell, just a touch. A mixture of uncertainty and stubbornness. Camilla could clearly see the realization on her face.

"I...was unaware of this. And - ah - perhaps I should have taken certain more stringent precautions when I ordered the extended monitoring." He turned away from her, in his chair, stalling for time.

"I'm willing to concede when I've made an error." he continued. "We'll make sure that there's only female employees overseeing the feed in the future." He turned back, looked down towards his desk, as if to attempt to declare the matter closed.

Camilla nearly exploded. She had to tense every muscle in her body to cling to control.

"Why am I shocked, yet not surprised? You barely thought of her as a living, breathing person when you ordered the monitoring, and now you think you can simply gloss over this? This treatment is borderline inhuman!"

Martinet answered in a peevish tone, "Look, if you want to review the footage, if that will satisfy these moral pangs you're suddenly suffering from..."

One small but powerful fist slammed onto the polished ironwood surface of his desk, causing any number of picture frames and knick-knacks to shudder.

"Recorded footage? You've been archiving this?" Camilla said, her voice becoming increasingly ragged and emotional. "My God, has it even ever once occurred to any of you what a sixteen year old girl who thinks she at least has private sanctuary in her own room could be doing? Late at night, perhaps? And you had people watching?" She started to pace back and forth, ignoring the look of confusion and concern that he leveled on her, as well as the way his hand was straying underneath his desk.

Pointing an accusatory finger at him, she spoke again, in a thick, tight voice, "I've been here a lot longer than you, Paul. I've watched how this organization has changed. How we have changed, especially in the face of our discovery of Max. I've never felt the need to hold my tongue whenever we risk falling off the tightrope in the wrong direction, but I've always stuck by. I may be famous for playing devil's advocate, but there was never any question I've been the loyal opposition all this time" Her eyes grew wide, as her voice grew deadly low.

"But there is one thing I could say about us, at least until tonight: that we most certainly were never CHILD PORNOGRAPHERS!"

Martinet rose up from his desk, an instinctive, self protective reaction, as if ginning up for a physical fight. The pair locked eyes, both breathing through their noses, remaining that way for almost ten full seconds.

It was the Director who spoke first.

"Obviously, I had no idea you felt so...strongly about this. I'm sorry Camilla, but we HAVE to keep tabs on her at all times."

"Fine then!" she huffed through clenched teeth. "I will build whatever sorts of sensors you need. If you're worried about her utilizing her abilities in her room, I'm almost positive at this point that I understand enough of the quantum field effects her powers possess to rig up a sensor grid that immediately signals Wright, who can then lock her down...we can...we..." She petered out, clearly unused to experiencing this level of anger, let alone, holding it back. "One place, Paul. Give her one...damn...place that's sacrosanct. If we treat her like an untrustworthy monster, then that's exactly how she's going to end up behaving. Sooner or later."

Martinet gripped the edge tight, turning his head away to look out the faux-outside display window set into one of the side walls, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

"Fine, Camilla. You win. I'll have them remove the video cameras. You can work with a team to design and install a non-visual sensor network in her quarters. I will even classify the recorded feed material thus far, so no one else can watch it going forward. But under one condition."

"And that is?"

"You do not tell her. You do not tell her that she was ever being watched in that room, nor will you tell her that we are going to continue monitoring her, with far less effective methods going forward. Do you understand?"

Swallowing back against her dry throat, she nodded once. "Fine. If you'll excuse me, I clearly have some work ahead of me, starting with shutting down the video security feed."

Turning on one heel, she made her way out the door, only stopping when Martinet called out.

"You could at least say thank you!"

She didn't turn to look back at him, only saying, in a voice much sadder than before. "I shouldn't have to thank you for not being an irredeemably shitty human being."

"Agent Davies! I won't forget this.. For your sake, I hope she's worth it."

At this, she did turn his head to address him. "This is about so much more than just Max. But for the record, yes. She was. And she always will be, to me."

Camilla prided herself on being able to close the door without slamming it as she exited the office at last.

December 2011

The air was still, the cold stung her nose and cheeks, as Chloe trudged along the barely cleared sidewalks, slush and snow squeaking and crunching under her boots as she made her way to the house she had spent almost half her childhood growing up in.

I don't even know why the hell I'm bothering. I haven't seen her in years. Never sent me a letter after running off to that fancy-shit academy. Why do I even bother...?

It wasn't true, of course; Chloe knew exactly why she was making her way over to the Caulfields

It was Christmas Eve.

It was Christmas Eve, and her life was just one huge pile of suck at the holidays only served to magnify the effect.

Another fight with Joyce. The freak out over the dye job, over Chloe's hair now being royal blue. The letter from the school confirming that she'd been finally shown the fucking door at Blackwell.

Black-HELL! I didn't need that place. I don't fucking need...

And none of the pathetic excuses for friends she had would have anything to do with her after her expulsion. Well, with the exception of Justin maybe, but he was pretty shitty company sometimes.

Not the mention she already checked his house, and found he was on vacation with his family.

What was it she was looking for, anyhow? A little compassion? Understanding? Someone that she could just...just tell all her troubles to? The past two years had been some of the absolutely worst of her life. She swore that if she couldn't find someone to just cut loose with, one single solitary sympathetic soul, she was going to scream. Cry. Hijack a car and just crash it into something, and be done with this whole waste of time called life!

She was still angry at Max though, after all this time. Furious, really. Abandoned. They were best friends! How the hell could she just run off and leave her like this!?

But there was just something about the way she left. Rushed, hurried, like someone was trying to bundle her up and take her away. She could never get Max's parents to tell her anything detailed about it. It was always, always the same story: Max received an remarkable, once-in-a-lifetime offer to study at an incredibly prestigious private academy that no one had ever fucking heard of whenever she asked around, and whose website barely seemed to ever change.

It just didn't add up. Was it really a school? Or did Max go...crazy. Like was she locked up in a loony bin, and no one wanted to say anything about it? Truth be told, Max was starting to act, like, weirdly manic in the last couple of weeks, but what teenager doesn't sometimes?

She hated to admit it, hated it with a passion.

But I miss her. I want her to be there. I need her to be there. Just once. Just tonight. God please. I need someone who can hear me out, and all the shitty things that've happened over the past couple years.

There was a time - and it seemed like so long ago - when they were like sisters. Better than that, really, because most sisters she knew who grew up together were hardly as friendly as the two of them had been. Chloe couldn't explain it, past the deep, instinctive knowledge that Max was comfort. Sanctuary.

Memories flooded her mind, as she took one heavy step after another. Warmer times, happier places. The way Max always saw the good in people, and in the world as well. The way she always put other people's problems before her own, and made it her mission to try and do something about them.

In others it might come off as toadying, or being spineless...obsequious. More than once, when they were younger, Chloe had teased her good naturedly about needing to stand up more for herself, otherwise people would just take advantage of her. Over time, Max did find a way to strike a balance...for the most part.

As much as Chloe always liked watching Max lend a helping hand to others, it was never so precious and special as when she was the one being helped. The way Max made it feel like she was the most important person in the world, when Chloe was having shit days; flubbing a quiz or getting picked on, feeling sick or when her cat died. All it took was one hug...

Oh Christ. Just one hug!

Chloe's eyes began to water, and she wiped them angrily.

She'd changed a lot over the past few years, and no doubt Max had as well.

But there had to be something there, right? An old spark. A little something that could roar again into an inferno of friendship renewed. You didn't spend years and years and years...and years and years on top of that, sharing each other's deepest hopes, dreams, fears. And then find out it was like nothing at all.

She knocked against the door, and then slumped her head forward against the hard, chill wood of the surface.

Please Max. If you're there, be happy to see me? Or just...just don't be there at all. Because I couldn't stand to be turned away from you, or treated like...like I'm someone you're trying to forget! Because I don't need that, Max. I don't need your pity, or your scorn, or...because fuck you, Max!

Chloe bowed her head.

I'm sorry..I didn't mean that...

She gasped, pausing to wipe her face against her jacket sleeve when the door opened up, revealing the happy, smiling face of Vanessa Caulfield. Her auburn hair shot through the strands of silver, Max's parents had a good eight years on Chloe's own, having chosen a later point in life to have a child. The Prices and the Caulfields always seemed to get along well enough, but the two families never stayed all that much in touch after Max departed Arcadia Bay.

"C-Chloe Price? Well, my gosh. Now there's a face I can't remember the last time I saw. How the heck are you doing?"

Chloe swallowed, gave a lopsided smile, and felt all of fourteen again, the guttering light of her remaining naivety desperately trying to twinkle through her red eyes and hardened heart.

"I'm...I'm doing okay, Mrs. C. Yeah, I'm...ah. Merry Christmas, by the way."

"Yes! Merry Christmas. Come here, you."

Chloe accepted the hug. It wasn't the one she wanted, but it helped chase the worst of the weight in her chest.

"Come on in. You must be freezing out there."

Chloe didn't have to be told twice. "Sh..sure. Thanks. I ah...I came over mostly because - I mean - I figured Max would probably be back from school for break?"

Vanessa ignored her, and continued talking. "How's Joyce, dear? And please send her my condolences. Ryan and I are so sorry over your loss. Your father was a good man. Terrible thing to happen. Two years it's been, if I remember?"

Chloe blinked, and then gave a single dumbstruck nod. "Y-yeah. Just a little over that. Anyhow, I'm sorry to bother you, but Ma-?"

"Ryan! Ryan come out from the kitchen, we have a visitor."

"Just a minute! This ham is in desperate need of another coat of glaze. You know how much I hate a dry ham!"

"It's Chloe! Chloe Price!"

"Zoey? I don't think I know a Zoey Feist."

"No you idiot, it's Chloe!"

Vanessa turned, eyes twinkling, a laugh upon her lips. Another few seconds, Max's father emerged from the kitchen, dressed in a "Home Of The Whopper" apron.

"Ha ha! Of course I remember, just foolin', Chloe! Ha! Probably had you going there, huh? Heyyy there. Merry Christmas, c'mere and give me a hug."

Another one accepted politely, given in return. Still not what she was looking for. But the scents in the air, the familiar lingering ones, combined with the old sights, whipped her mind into a furious miasma of nostalgic memory. It made the thought of coming this far and not seeing Max almost unbearable now.

"Hi. Hi yeah. Wow. It's really, g-great to see you both again. But hey, is Max around? I really, I mean, don't take it the wrong way, but I really was hoping to see her."

"Max?" Vanessa asked quizzically, blinking with uncertainty.

"M-mmmmax? Hmmm. Oh! Oh, yes. Of course. Max."

"Uhh. Yeah. You know. I figured she had to be back home from school and everything."

"From...school?" Vanessa continued, still unsure.

"Yes. Oh for...for pete's sake, Vanessa. You remember. Max is at the Zion Academy still."

Chloe could almost hear the snap go off in the other woman's brain, like two gears with clashing threads suddenly locking back into place, however imperfectly.

"Right." Vanessa said the word slowly, as if uncertain of the meaning. Then kicked back up into full bloom and follow it up again with greater convenience. "Right! Of course. Hah. But..ah. Oh. Chloe. I'm sorry, she's not here. I think?"

"Are you sure? I could have sworn I thought, I saw..." Ryan rubbed his chin, then adjusted his glasses, squinting his eyes as he struggled to recall.

Ooookay. This. This right here is getting seriously creepy. Mayybe...oh shit! Did I catch them totally baked or something?

Chloe sniffed hard at the air.

O-M-G! Totally! They're...oh no. Wait...oh shit, that's my jacket. Damn!

"No. No. No, I'm certain that she...Oh...Chloe. Why don't you...check her bedroom? If you see her, tell her dinner will be ready soon." Vanessa said.

Chloe nodded and slowly backed away. "Okay. Be back in just a minute."

She practically flew up the stairs, unsure what was driving her harder: the possibility of a reunion with Max, of the increasingly instinctive need to remove herself from the discussion, and how intensely creepy it was becoming.

When she opened the door, and crossed the threshold into Max's bedroom, it felt like stepping back in time. The place was untouched, left almost exactly as she remembered three years earlier. She reached out, swiping a couple of fingertips against the dresser, startled by how thick the dust had become.

"Okaaaay. Shit." Chloe murmured low, speaking mostly to hear herself talk. "This. So hella fucked up."

If Max was ever here for a visit...well...no. No, it was obvious. The room had become a virtual crypt, sealed away from the ages.

The air hung heavy with memory, nostalgia. As she took the time to poke and prod through her bookshelves, closets and drawers - just looking for clues to what happened to Max, of course - Chloe smiled sadly to herself.

Oh man, here's the picture of us as pirates! Arr! We be Mighty!

And then there was the picture of them cosplaying as Batgirl and Supergirl.

"BatWOMAN!" Chloe corrected, when asked about it, Halloween 2007. "She's new, and her hair is red and short, and she's awesome. She's even better than Batman!"

God, those costumes were awesome. She and Max worked so hard on them.

The room was just bursting with fragments of the past, a veritable hall of memory. But there was nothing here as to where Max had gone, or why she'd left so fast.

Why the hell would Max's folks even think she was ever here, when it's clear she isn't. What...what the fuck is going on?

Just as she was about to leave, Chloe noticed an old familiar doll. One given a special place of honor on the top of the clothing bureau.

"Helloooo..." she murmured. "What are you doing here?"

She gave a crooked grin.

Shit. Is that...Jem? I can't...ha ha! I can't believe she kept it. After all these years.

Well Jem, seeing as how you brought me and Max together, you definitely need better digs than this. I'm sure Max wouldn't mind you coming home with me. You're too damn special to be locked away in this..."

Dungeon? Tomb?

Oubliette.

A place where things end up, to be forgotten.

"C'mon Jem. Time for us ladies to get the hell out of this place."

Chloe trudged back down the stairs, tucking the doll away in her jacket beforehand.

"Hey." She quietly called out. "So...uhh...Max wasn't in her room? I mean...is she in the house somewhere else?"

Vanessa had a faraway look in her eyes. "She's. Not here. What was it again? A v-vacation, was it?"

"Right. Ohhhh yes. It's coming back to me now. Oh goodness, how could we have forgotten? She spent weeks practically begging us to let her go to...oh." he started to snap his fingers. "Where was it? Oh Gosh. It's right on the tip of my tongue."

"Tahiti." Vanessa said, with a faraway look in her eyes.

"Tahiti! Oh. Yes! Yes." He made a triumphant fist in the air and waved it near his face. "Tahiiiti. Right. Oh Chloe. Ha. Vanessa and I spent our honeymoon there."

"It's a magical place!" they both intoned together, sing-song.

"It was part study opportunity too, right? Something to do with whale research?" the older woman asked.

What? I thought Max said she wanted to go to Blackwell and study photography. Sheeesh. Maybe the day we went and saw the beached whales really got to her.

"Oh. Maybe? I can't...really remember. But there was something about going with a boyfriend." Ryan responded.

"What? No. I remember it was a girlfriend."

Vanessa then snorted. "Maybe both."

Ryan tilted his head back in good natured amusement. "Ah, that might have been it. Maybe both. Hey Chloe, that's okay. We know we're old, and you kids are progressive these days. Whatever makes you happy, right?"

What? The actual? Fuck?

There was something setting Chloe's teeth on edge, making the hairs on the back of her neck rise up.

She needed to get the hell out. This place was seriously creeping her out.

No, not the place.

The people.

"Um...you know what? Mr and Mrs. C. I am SO sorry, but, I forgot...I need to get something for my Mom. Like cranberry sauce from the Circle K. My Mom bought the world's smallest turkey I swear, and I need to get something for it. So uh...just tell Max I said hi, and I'll see you around, okay? Maybe tell her to write me?"

"Oh. Oh okay. Sure Chloe. Nice seeing you. I'll let...let..her..."

"Max...yes. We'll let her know. Good seeing you again, kiddo."

Chloe turned away, and exited as quickly as propriety would allow, the glazed, half-confused expressions of the Caulfields haunting her.

She made her way to the Two Whales. They'd be closing soon, another hour, closing early for the holiday, but she could at least take some comfort in a rear booth. Nursing a coffee, and desperately hoping for it to chase the chill from more than just her bones.

What the hell is going on? It's like they were fucking lobotomized or something. I mean, they seemed okay otherwise, but when they started to talk about Max?

She stopped herself, and then shook her head, frowning.

You're reading into shit, Chloe. Fuck, for all I know, they were baking up. Couple of old school hippies, and now they've got an empty nest. Yeah, you know, now that I think of it, I'm pretty damn sure that Ryan's eyes were totally bloodshot. Probably got into some pot brownies or something.

It was easier for Chloe to imagine Max the way her parents had described. Off in the tropical sun, combining work and pleasure. Far away in some exotic locale that might as well be another planet. Another life. Laughing and playing and...

She snorted and rolled her eyes at the thought of her sucking face with a boyfriend. Max was always so shy around boys. Didn't seem to have the least amount of interest in them. Of course, she was a year younger than Chloe, barely thirteen when she went away.

But the flash of Max in an intimate embrace with another girl suddenly burned through Chloe's brain, prompting a hard, sharp twist in her sternum. She shook her head to clear it, and took a hard slug of her coffee.

Another...another new friend. Best friend. Probably laughing it up, about her stupid, dumb friends that she was happy to leave behind, because now she's with all the smart, rich, cool kids at her fucking fancy academy, and you can just FUCKING GO TO HELL, MAX CAULFIELD! I'm done with you! I don't care if I ever hear from you again, because you just...just are the fucking worst! Bitch! Whore! I hope I never see you again, hope you fucking drown or something in shitty Tahiti.

She choked back a sob, wiping her eyes for the third time in the past hour, and allowed a soft, watery "Damnit, Max." escape into the night air.

"Hey, is this seat taken?"

Chloe nearly jumped out of her booth, glancing up at the other girl sliding into the space across from her.

"What? Fuck. No, no, Jesus! Don't just...fucking sit down at someone's booth like that. Shit, almost gave me a heart attack."

"Well sooooohhhreee. You just looked miserable and alone over here, and since there's no one else in this place, I thought you might like the company or something." She sounded put out, whoever she was, but the smile on her face told a different story. A smile framed by curtains of silky blonde hair, ears sporting charming little snowflake earrings, and a make-up job that screamed 'I'm so good at this, I spent an hour doing my face up to look like I barely spent any time at all. I'm just naturally this perfect.'

"Yeah well...well fuck you for being right. I am pretty miserable and alone." She laughed and shook her head. "Don't even know why I fucking said that right now."

The other girl gave a soft laugh, rest her chin on her fist, elbow perched on the edge of the table. "Heyyyy. I know you. Chloe Price, yeah? You're like a year ahead of me."

"Yeah." Chloe admitted softly. "I WAS."

"Oh...oh shit! I heard you weren't coming back? Was it because of what you did to Mr. Snook? Ha ha! Oh...oh...God. Really?" Rachel's initial mirth died off as she saw the look on Chloe's face. "Geezus, really? What, just for that one little prank, which, by the way, he totes deserved."

Chloe sniggered, and gave a slow shrug. "Oh, that was just the frosting on the shit cake that was my career at Blackhell. They were looking for an excuse. I'm just...you know...too much woman for a place like that to handle."

Rachel laughed, warm and rich. "You're funny. And I love your hair, did you just do that? I mean, I think you had little bits of blue before, but daaaamn. It's fantastic now, going the whole way?"

Chloe reached up, removing her beanie, and letting the other girl get a full look. "Y-yeah. Just did it earlier tonight."

This prompted a double-thumbs up reaction from the other girl.

"Hey. Sorry, this is pretty shitty for me to fess to, but I don't remember your name."

"Oh! It's Rachel. Rachel Amber."

Chloe smiled. "Rachel Amber? Is that like...your whole name? Or is it Rachel Amber something something? You know, like Rachel dash Amber, like you have one of those names that's two names joined as one?"

Rachel laughed again, "Ha ha! Jesus, I can't believe you're the first person to ever ask me that. No, it's just Rachel Amber. Amber, last name. Although my middle name is Dawn."

"Dawn, huh? Like the sunrise?"

She looked down and grinned. "Something like that."

"Hey, so...uh...so why are you out here?"

"Why are you?"

Chloe frowned lightly. "The less I'm actually home, the better. Now you."

Rachel leaned in, brushing her hair back across one ear, and murmured low, "Well...buy me a cup of coffee, and maybe I'll tell you."

January 2012

Max dreamt of the dark, twisted jungle, and the veldt that lay somewhere beyond it.

Here, in twilight realms of slumber-borne fantasy, she is Maxima, the warrior girl. A modern day, Sheena, clad in leopardskin and whipcord thongs. Bracelets and necklaces of the teeth of her slain prey adorn her. She clutches the flint knife in her hand, her only power against the evils of the jungle that has entrapped her, save her own natural grace, cunning, and beauty.

For so long she has tried to escape. Each time she makes the attempt, the trees grow taller, thicker; they display a malevolence that both confuses her and chills her to the soul. Worse yet, there are so many places for the creatures of the jungle to hide, waiting for the right moment to strike. To halt her flight, to drag her back deep into the heart of forested labyrinth.

She's been held captive here, for God knows how long. All she knows is that she has come to hate this place as much as it despises her in return.

She swings through, vine to vine to vine, managing to wrench herself free, twist and dodge as they spring to life and attempt to ensnare her. Twisted, apelike creatures snort and howl, lines of drool running off their snouts. She slashes out with her blade, drawing blood from severed arteries. Plunging it in their bellies and dragging out chunks of viscera.

But worst of all of the creatures in the jungle is the Ebon Viper. Her eternal foe. The spiteful, cruel serpent, whose venom is the only thing that can ultimately render Maxima powerless. There is no fighting her, only fleeing.

And this time, she is going to make it. She just believes. She HAS to, this time. She doesn't know how long she can stay here, living like this; drinking the jungle's fetid water, choking on its poison fruit.

She is sailing now, having caught just enough momentum, arcing gracefully over the tree tops...

...and as before, she is stopped. Giant raptors snatch at her arms. Vines, taking on life of their own, again drag her back. Back towards the Viper and her fangs.

But tonight is different.

The vultures are quickly dispatched. The vines slashed through with a steel machete.

Hanging from a rope ladder that seems to go absolutely nowhere - as if its placement is entirely determined by the fact that it is thematically correct, and for no other reason - is a roguish, charming girl. Just a bit older. With jaunty fedora, brown cotton shirt and matching khaki pants, battered leather bombers jacket pulling the enter ensemble together.

It's Oregon Price!

Maxima isn't sure how she knows the name, only that this is the girl she's been waiting for the whole time.

Chloe lets loose with her whip, grabbing Max, and swinging them both down into the open field. With it's blue skies, gentle, warming sun, and birds singing their songs of victory.

But still they must run. They must hide, for the forest will not give up its playthings so easily.

Chloe takes her by the hand and they run as fast and as far as their feet will take them. All the way to a rock cliff, with an open cave.

Inside the cave they flee, hoping to find refuge from their pursuers; throw them off the scent.

It's dark inside, but Maxima is not afraid. She finds it warm. Comforting. Almost like the womb. Though there are no artificial lights to be seen, everything is lit by some sort of ambient torchlight.

They hold each other, hearts beating, but second by second, a sense of peace and comfort envelops them. A growing certainty that they have finally secured their freedom at last. That this is the end of Maxima's terrible captivity, and the future now belongs to the both of them, to be written with as much adventure and excitement as the pair care to pour into it.

"You...you saved me!" Maxima breathes out.

Chloe tilts up the rim of her hat, cocks her head to the side, gives a confident nod.

The urge to thank her savior fills Maxima's breast. Ideas fail to come to mind, and she does only what she knows best; follows her instinct and her heart.

Hands fall upon Chloe's shoulders. She tilts her head in, lips pressing firmly against her savior's. It's sweeter than she ever dreamed.

Max woke with a start and a gasp. Curled up in a fetal position, she murmured out sleepily.

"Chloe?"

She thought...for a moment...she saw her? Or that she was here?

Max turned around and closed her eyes, instinctively trying to return to the dream that she completely forgets about by the morning.

A/N: Yo yo! It's Black Swan Saturday, Swan-ketteers! :D

An extra 80 points to House Bearglove, because Corentin IV worked extra hard to help me correct a few small but significant issues with this chapter, and also pushed me to really add lot more depth and punch to it. She is just totally the best!

Speaking of Jem and the Holograms, have any of you checked out the new reboot comic? It is, far and away, the BEST reboot of an 80's property that I've ever seen, and I just absolutely adore it. Especially because Stormer and Kimber are gay and dating, *THE WAY GOD INTENDED*

Anyhow, just a heads up: Things in my life are going a bit crazy. That goes quadruplely so for Cory. While I've got seven more first drafts of material written, stuff needs a lot of editing and revision; more importantly, I'm taking some time to talk deep and serious with her about some of the more complex plotting and stuff going on in the background B story, the stuff that's happening while Max and Chloe are busy being awesome together. I need to make sure it works, and I've kind of hit a point where I need to figure it out before I can write any further. So...my apologies, but we may start missing our usually brisk and reliable once-a-week deadlines, but fear not! We shouldn't be too behind schedule, I imagine.

Thanks again, everyone for all your kind support and words thus far. It means a lot to both of us.