[Received: Friday, 9 PM]

[K: Are you okay?]

[K: How did we not know this was coming?]

[K: Please just say anything. I'm freaking out cooped up here in this hospital.]

[K: What did we do to deserve this?]

[Received: Saturday, 8 AM]

[K: Max? Please say something]

Max stared sullenly at the dim, reflective screen in her hand. She had taken a break... somewhere in town. It was sobering to see how unrecognizable it had become, even compared to Max's time during the beginning of the storm a number of realities back.

There was a dense, growing list of texts, which Max had mostly ignored so far. It was especially difficult to shut out her parents, but she knew they wouldn't leave her alone once she responded. They were probably already on the verge of making a panicked drive to Arcadia Bay, and Max couldn't stand to give up any time in her search for a way out of this reality. If they showed up, that would make things much more difficult, not to mention real. Max could still treat this as a kind of Twilight Zone experience. The longer she was there, the less that helped.

Max had set their calls to auto-ignore and tried not to think about it too much.

The messages currently staring up at Max were different though. Kate. Poor Kate Marsh, stuck alone in the hospital during that fucked up storm. Max wanted to focus only on the hope of finding a way out of this reality, but a pragmatic piece of her couldn't just ignore Kate. If, for some reason, Max couldn't fix this, she wouldn't make the same mistake with Kate twice. She didn't want to think about it, knowing that she was only keeping herself together by considering her grief temporary. Nonetheless, she wouldn't take chances with Kate.

She had almost failed her once already.

Max began typing.

[M: Kate, I'm okay! I was at the lighthouse and got lucky. Though that feels wrong to say right now...]

Sending the message, Max looked up from the screen and decided to keep walking. She didn't want to stay there for long; it was too quiet, basically lifeless. She was struggling to keep her impatience in check anyway. Her phone buzzed.

[K: Max! Oh thank God you're okay!]

[K: I mean that feels a little wrong to say right now to me too]

[K: But! I'm so glad! To hear from you! Exclamations!]

[K: Where are you now?]

[K: Are you safe?]

Kate Marsh. Always looking out for others. Max's heart stung again, thinking of how little Kate deserved what had happened to her. It only made Max more confident in her decision to respond to Kate, if nobody else. It was kind of nice for Max too, if she was honest with herself.

It was not a great time to be alone with her thoughts.

[M: I'm trying to walk back to school. Hoping it's still standing]

[M: I'm really worried about the lack of people I've found so far]

[K: Me too. I've only heard back from Stella, Dana, Courtney, and Victoria so far. I'm praying for dead phones]

Max stopped. Victoria. After her own experiences, Max had a hard time holding a grudge against the girl anymore. But Kate looking out for her? Already? Max was struck by her goodness once again.

[M: That's still good to hear though. At least 4x as good]

[M: Anyway I need to pick up the pace. Keep in touch and I will too]

[K: Alright, I'm glad you're okay Max. Be careful.]

[M: I'm glad you're okay too Kate. Seriously.]

As an afterthought, Max added:

[M: And I will.]

Max was nearly at the top of the twisting drive leading to Blackwell Academy. She'd had to climb over more than a few fallen trees to get there. It was no wonder she'd found no sign of emergency responders in town: they were probably having a hell of a time getting there.

Anxiety suddenly blossomed in Max's chest. Walking through town had been one thing. She didn't know many people she might have found there, and she could pretend that they were all bunkered down somewhere safe or had gotten out in time.

Max knew it was a lie, but it was a believable enough lie for the time being.

Now, she had to confront the question head-on: what was right around this bend? Maybe worse, what wasn't?

The answer was both simple and cliché: there was only one way to find out.

The first thing Max could make out over the path's crest was the courtyard in front of the main building. It had seen much better days. There were branches and flyers scattered all around. Some of the picnic tables had definitely been knocked around, and the giant posters of Jefferson's work were almost all knocked over, shattered glass strewn beneath. Max's brow furrowed at that detail. Good riddance. Some posters even seemed entirely unaccounted for, not that Max counted.

There were many other minor signs of the storm and still nobody in sight. However, Max could a distinctly major detail, now nearly at the top of the path. She had a grave sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, the kind specifically reserved for a shattered hope.

Blackwell was gone.

Not completely gone, per se. Max wasn't in The Wizard of Oz, where a building is pulled off the ground in one complete piece and dropped somewhere else. Much of the main building was gone though, more structural components remaining than anything else.

Blackwell was a literal skeleton of itself, surrounded by the broken bits of its body: a corpse left to rot after a violent storm.

No, no, no, no. It can't be gone. The butterfly photo could've still been in there! And my pictures in the dorm! I-I need those to save Chloe, to get back to her, to, to-

Max's thoughts jumbled on top of each other and disappeared in a thick fog of panic. Her mind raced forward, fearing that her anguish had just become permanent. She saw imagined flashes of Joyce, Warren, and Frank, flesh disfigured by the gas explosion she wasn't there to prevent at the Two Whales. She imagined the slow drip feed of confirmed fatalities as the broken structures were picked apart. She imagined two new coffins laid by an old gravesite. Father, mother, and daughter together again at last.

All dead.

Max was startled by her own raspy breathing. At some point she had crouched low to the ground in an anxious fit of crying and struggling to breathe. She could feel herself ready to break, but some part of her was still distanced from it. Like a melancholy observer, sympathetic to the pain of the wretch huddled on the ground but still standing many steps back. The creeping likelihood that this reality was permanent - that this was real - was rapidly closing that divide.

Then, a voice pierced the fog.

"Max?!"

The surprise tugged Max slightly out of the panic she was being sucked into, distracted from the tempest swirling in her own head. She looked up, trying to make out the speaker in the distance through blurry eyes.

Victoria Chase was walking quickly towards Max, and it looked to like she wore a slight, incredulous smile.

Unfortunately, that smile slowly faded as Victoria approached. Max was a total wreck even without the crying, still damp from a night in the pouring rain. Victoria couldn't help but notice.

"Jesus, Caulfield," Victoria sighed. "You look like sh-" she visibly caught herself, restraining the impulse. "Not good. I would ask you what the hell was wrong, but..." and Victoria simply shrugged, gesturing to nowhere in particular. Max opened her mouth to reply, but it just hung there, uncooperative.

Victoria did her best to fill in the gap.

"Where were you, anyway?" She paused. Nothing. "Not to add insult to injury, but I'm kind of getting the wet dog vibe, even from over here." Victoria lacked tact, but a slight softness in her voice helped her not seem malicious, like it was just a poor attempt to lighten the mood. Max didn't want to fight. She didn't have it in her anyway. Thinking back to the previous night, desperate to escape the present, Max found her voice. It came out quiet and weak.

"I was at the lighthouse with..." Max almost said 'Chloe', but some part of her mind was cognizant enough to prevent the impossible detail, as far as Victoria knew. For her, it had been days since the bathroom. Max couldn't hide a deep sigh, disgusted by her own pragmatism.

"Well, nobody. Not by the time it started," Max finished in a hiss. It might have seemed like too personal a reaction, but Max didn't care about that. Her anger was too hot and her emotions too exhausted to bother hiding it. One measure of caution, followed by another of recklessness.

A good summary of myself. Max sneered, internally.

"Wow," Victoria mumbled. "Well, that explains your... state, anyway. I wouldn't have guessed that would be out of the way enough, but," Victoria looked unsure of whether or not to continue. After a long pause, she quietly did. "I'm glad it was, though."

Almost in a whisper, she added, "I'm glad you're okay, Max."

The moment was surprising enough to bring Max back out of herself. Victoria Chase, extending goodwill and sympathy? Without someone else even doing the heavy lifting first? Max was unsure whether her own biases or new circumstances were more at fault for the surprise, but Max was taken aback either way. Max really looked at Victoria for the first time since she showed up.

Victoria was staring slightly down and away from Max, but there was openness in her posture, real worry and caring. Maybe even a hint of implicit remorse. Here was a girl whose world had just gone absolutely crazy in under a week, without even the slightest inkling of why to help make sense of it. She was probably scared, lonely, and even angry at herself. She had failed to help her friend, even if that person was Nathan Prescott. Max's thoughts drifted back to Kate and how furious she had been at herself for almost letting her down. How much worse must Victoria feel, with what had happened?

Max remembered that Chloe was dead at that very moment, and she realized that she knew all too well.

Thoughts and emotions swirling in a complicated tangle, Max's body moved by itself. She closed the distance between them and pulled Victoria into a gentle, tentative hug.

The two girls began quietly crying. In that moment, they were just two girls who had an immensely unfair burden of sadness thrust on them, trying their best to keep from being crushed. Before that burden, this connection would never have happened. A small piece of Victoria was screaming internally in embarrassment and shame, but it was much quieter than the roaring need for comfort from somewhere, from someone.

"I fucked up so bad, Max," Victoria struggled to say between hitched breaths. "I've been nothing but a bitch to everyone, and for what? So I could impress a fucking sadistic, murdering creep? I couldn't even help my only real friend, and I knew, fucking knew, he was in trouble. Knew he needed help and wasn't getting it. It was all mixed up, and I couldn't see it. I see it now, but it doesn't fucking matter! And then the world decides to fuck things up more, just wipe Arcadia Bay out, no warning? Just, fuck. Fuck!" Victoria whimpered. "Fuck."

After a few more sobs, Victoria whispered, "I feel like I deserved it, like I was supposed to die last night."

Victoria's anguish washed over Max, and in some way helped her gain a hold over her own. There was a person right here, with more depth and compassion that Max would have ever suspected, that needed help. Needed someone to be strong. Needed someone to understand her pain.

She needed to know someone shared it, just like Max now realized she had.

"Victoria," Max managed to say, getting her own tears under control. Her voice was raspy from crying. "A week ago, I would have said nobody deserves to die. We both know why I don't think I can say that anymore," Max said with a sting of venom. She took a deep breath. "You don't. You've been mean to people that didn't deserve it, but we all contributed to that environment. Except Kate. And Kate forgave, so you need to forgive yourself."

"Ugh, Kate..." Victoria whispered, full of regret and admiration.

"I know. She's pretty incredible. She's made me want to try to be more like that. And, Nathan," Max paused. She was still very conflicted about Nathan Prescott. She knew he was a victim of Jefferson in his own way, but it was almost impossible for Max to see it that way. Max really did want to be like Kate, but Nathan was the last domino that fell to end Chloe's life. He was literally the trigger.

But, he had also tried to warn Max about Jefferson, tried to help them in the end. Well, one of them.

Max tried to focus on that.

"I know how much it hurts to let down a friend. I almost wasn't there enough for Kate, and I really wasn't there for," Max struggled with the Name. Saying it made it real. It made her truly face the fact that she might not be able to fix it this time. She took a deep, shaky breath. The tears were back.

"Chloe," Max let out in a whisper. The image of Chloe, limp and curled on the cold floor, burned in Max's mind, and her grief poured out.

"I-I wasn't there to save her. Even though I was there. I just hid, until it was too late. I finally stepped out just in time to see her get fucking shot. And she had to see that I was there, had been the whole time, and did nothing." At some point, Victoria had broken their embrace and taken a step back. What little color her face had was drained away.

"Y-you knew Chloe Price?" Victoria asked in a dazed hush. Max's sobs grew heavier and more urgent.

"W-we hadn't spoken in years. I grew up in Arcadia, and she was my - my best friend. I had to move five years ago, right when Chloe lost her dad. She was broken and devastated, and I felt so guilty. So, so guilty that I didn't know how to reach out and talk to her." Max caught her breath a bit, and hers tears slowed. Her voice was full of bitterness and regret. "So I just didn't. I didn't talk to her once in all of those years."

The bitterness turned to wistfulness. "But then I managed to get into Blackwell for photography, and I knew deep down that the biggest reason I wanted to go here was to come back to Chloe. I had all of these stupid plans about how I was going to finally make everything up to her. But I was scared, and I just kept giving myself excuses once I got here. I needed to settle in, I needed to make new friends first, I needed to start off the school year right. I was always going to reach out, eventually. But, now..." Max trailed off.

She felt so empty. She didn't even know why she had needed to say all of that to Victoria. It had just suddenly come rushing out, and she couldn't stop it.

Victoria looked visibly wounded. She was shaking a little bit. "How the fuck could you have been sympathizing with me about Nathan, Max?" Victoria's eyes were wide, hands against her temples. "He - he killed your fucking friend. And I didn't stop him." Victoria sunk into a crouch. "I didn't stop Nathan from killing your friend!" Victoria roared, suddenly angry and dripping with self-hatred. "And I've been awful to you ever since we met! How can you be consoling me?!" Victoria shot back up. "God, I was right. I was so. Fucking. Right!" Victoria's voice was suddenly quiet again, cut off by renewed tears. "That storm should have killed me, and saved everyone else the pain."

Something Victoria said had lit a fuse in Max. It had slowly burned throughout Victoria's outburst. She was furious at the whole universe, and all of the little butterfly effects that had gotten them to this point.

The gunpowder ignited.

"No, Victoria. That's bullshit." Victoria looked stunned. "And you know what else? It's giving up," Max hissed. "Of course I want to hate Nathan, and I want to hate you too! It would be so easy, and it would make me feel so much better right now! You get to be the villain, I get to be the victim, and then I get to move on and call it a 'senseless tragedy'," Max sneered. Victoria's eyes were wide open with shock and hurt. Max took her wildly gesticulating hands and brought them down to Victoria's shoulders. She released a long breath that she hadn't realized she was holding.

"But that would be so self-serving, Victoria. It's all I've wanted to do, but I guess this week has given me too much time for introspection." Max let out a wistful chuckle. "I could have stopped it too, Victoria. I could have intervened in that moment, sure, but it's so much more than that. You let Nathan down for a few months, and it led to that moment. I let Chloe down for years, and that's a big part of why she ended up there."

"So, yes. I blame Nathan, and you, and fucking Jefferson most of all. But I have to take my share of the blame too Victoria." Max let that statement hang for a bit.

It stung.

"I know I'm rationalizing that position much more than I'm really in it right now, but I'll get there. There's no reason for me to lash out about it now. It would just lead to more pain. I don't know that I can take any more."

There was a tense silence. Victoria hadn't been looking up for some time. Max wondered if she had been too truthful and let out too much of her anger. She hadn't really planned where she was going; it just came out. The silence was starting to drag out, and, just as Max was about to drop her hands, Victoria stepped forward again. She gave Max a tentative embrace.

"Thank you, Max. Just… thank you."

Max returned the hug for a moment, and then lightly pushed Victoria back. She looked Victoria in the eye, and Max saw a sliver of doubt creep back onto her face. Max said what she had wanted to look Victoria in the eyes to say, with a slight grin and a hint of playfulness.

"For the record, I'm glad you're okay too, Victoria."

Victoria let out a muffled laugh, and Max knew she really would be okay.

AN: Finally got to see some other characters, and probably much more Victoria than anyone here expected! People tend to see her very one-dimensionally, but one of my favorite things about the game are the times that she breaks that stock character and you manage to actually sympathize with her (especially when the actual narrative forces you to; you know what I'm talking about).

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to let me know what you think. More direct plot coming up next time.