AN: These events take place sometime in chapter five's dimension-hopping/dream sequence-with the last one taking place of course in the canonical ending. As always, Life is Strange belongs to DONTNOD Entertainment. I claim no rights to the characters mentioned in this ficlet.
The first time she'd kissed Victoria, it had been by accident. The other girl had managed to pull herself up off the floor of the Dark Room. She was laying draped over Max's bound form shivering. Their bodies pressed together almost violently, each reassuring the other they were still alive. She'd been crying...Max distinctly remembered that. She remembered that because Victoria-fucking-Chase did not cry. Victoria Chase could make grown men cry. But cry herself? Impossible, Max thought, until now. Out of all of the things Max had ever considered Victoria, vulnerable was not one of them. But there she was and Max, being the terribly awkward person she was, had kissed her. She'd kissed her, the bullet in Chloe's forehead that still dripped blood burned into her retinas. She tasted the bitter salt of tears on the other girl's breath and started crying too.
The second time, a series of bad choices had lured her into an already too intoxicated state. She was back in the other dimension, her body instinctively seeking out the other girl's
cashmere-clad form. It was midnight (half-past one to be precise) and the moon was the brightest it had ever been. The woman beside her stirred.
"Maxine..fucking what...are you high"
Her breath had tasted like cheap cigarettes and somehow, Max found that comforting. She could see the freckles that Victoria kept carefully hidden behind layers of makeup. They were even more prominent in moonlight that cast a navy glow on her face...navy..blue…(Chloe?) -no wait-that wasn't right. Somewhere in this universe, Chloe sat in some cheapass hospital bed breathing in sickness and expelling hopelessness from her lungs. Somewhere in this universe was a blu-BROWN-haired girl waiting to die. (or had Max already killed her?) Shit. She kissed Victoria again, bitterness burning in her mouth like poison.
Poison...intoxication, the third time had quite literally been because of that. In the end (or maybe this was her beginning) she didn't get arrested for Chloe's 'suicide.' Instead, she persuaded Victoria to skip class. She didn't want Nathan to come along too, but he sticks by her side like a bur...like Rachel was to-no. Max is determined to forget Chloe. THIS is her new life now. As per usual, Nathan shadowed Victoria, a fist of home-made blunts in his first.
"You goddamn predictable bastard" Victoria teased lightly when Nathan pushes himself up onto the concrete wall and offered one to her. He turned to Max.
"Think I'll pass, thanks" She's not jealous. At least that's what Max tells herself. Still, the burning in her stomach refused to settle.
"Yo Max" Nathan sniggered "You a fucking puss or what." Max got angry. Unspeakably overwhelmingly angry. Angry At Nathan, at Victoria, at stupid Chloe the cripple.
"Whatever" she snatched the joint from his hands, took a long drag, and turned away.
She heard them behind her, talking and joking, their voices a sea of merriment. By the time Max was halfway done with her joint Victoria is already on her second. Through her haze, the tenor ring of Nathan's panicked cry registered only second to the image of Victoria's delicate body clattering to the ground. She saw it unfold as if time had slowed down (did she rewind?) Victoria was still falling. And then she was there beside them, hands clawing and jolting Victoria, too scared to believe she could be dead. She slapped her, once, twice, and then once more. She didn't stir. Breathing heavily, Max sat back onto her knees to catch her breath.
Staring down at Victoria's lovely face, a rather peculiar thought sprang to mind. When she was younger, the only movie that wasn't about pirates she could cajole Chloe into watching was Sleeping Beauty. Chloe's initial obversion was stemmed from her long-held belief that pink should never be worn and boys were stupid..princes even more so. But the promise of dragons and green-skinned witches had eventually won the (soon-to-be-sapphic) pirate over. "Who needs a price when I've got you, Supermax." Chloe would say and Max was always quick to agree. Still, she didn't mind-not nearly as much as she had pretended. Max though Victoria made for quite a lovely Aurora. It was a ridiculous thought-wasn't it? If asked later, Max would surely cite the weed as evidence alone for her actions. But that didn't matter now. All that mattered was Victoria's ridiculously plump lips-and hers. And by some miracle, the cashmere clad woman woke up.
"My hero," Victoria said, giggling.
Behind them, Nathan snorted,"Gay."
But his teasings were long drowned out by the sparkle in Victoria's bright green eyes. The flush to her cheeks was not quite full. Max always thought there was a beauty to the way Victoria laughed.
The fourth time it had been from desperation. Victoria was dead..or at least she thought so; she wasn't breathing. Mouth-to-mouth worked before right? She worked frantically, rolling the rapidly cooling body over to face her. This wasn't how it was supposed to end! She'd long given up on the idea of Chloe-but goddammit! What was the point in having rewind powers if she didn't get to save anybody that mattered?
"Victoria! Wake Up!...please."
She was sniffing now, big fat tears splashing onto Victoria's pale cheeks. Max cradled her with a desperation she felt she didn't deserve. For the way she caressed her cheeks was with a tenderness only reserved for family. And the way that she kissed her was with a passion only reserved for the truest lovers. Max sat Victora down, gently. She was going to fix this. She brought her hand up and the world spun like a merry-go-round once more.
It was October. Peace settled across the small town in Oregon, sheltered safe from her storm by Chloe's sacrifice. Today it was sunny as they both stood dressed in black, teary-eyed, and solemn-faced across a simple wooden casket. Their bodies stood on opposite sides of a great chasm. They were worlds apart. Even so, Max found herself drawn to the pixie of a woman, bloodshot eyes sweeping over Victoria's furrowed brows and the thin set of her lips.
"Take a photo Lamefield. It'll last longer."
Max winced visibly. She stammered out a 'sorry,' eyes snapping to her feet. Next to her, she could hear Joyce sobbing quietly into her David's shoulder. This was just another reminder of the family she had ripped apart in so many universes.
As soon as she service was over she fled.
It was hours later when Victoria found her. As darkness settled over the lighthouse, Victoria joined her on the bench. They floundered in silence for a while. By the time the silence was broken, the world was almost completely covered in darkness.
"Kate was looking for you, you know. And I guess I owe her one anyway." And then, in an abrupt effort to make small talk, she asked; "She was a friend of yours right? The girl...Chloe?"
Perhaps it was in the awkwardness in which Victoria had spoken, that Max realized things between them would never be the same. And suddenly, Max couldn't stand it anymore. How could she? Chloe was dead. And Victoria? Within the hours spent teetering between the edges of dreamland and reality, life and death, Max found that the lines between enemy..to friend...to lover..(and more?) had vanished. But only to her. To Victoria, she was the same twee hipster as had always been. And although Max could recall a number of kisses, she knew Victoria could recall none. The Victoria in this universe didn't know that Max got a little clingy when she was drunk. Or that Max knew she had twenty-four freckles between both cheeks. Or that she gave her best kisses at midnight, post-coital with half a cigarette shoved between her lips. And when she laughed, the world seemed to blossom between them. Victoria would never know she thought those things about her. She couldn't.
"Caufield...are you crying?"
She looked up. In the darkness, Max couldn't tell who kissed who first. But for the first time since moving to Arcadia Bay, Max felt the ground, firm and real, beneath her feet. She was lucid. This was the time-line she belonged in.