Fifteen: Bullets

"Shitballs. I know it's here somewhere," Chloe grumbled as she pawed under a pile of clothes.

The locked memento box rested in Max's hands. Max shook it. A metallic clink answered her. She was itching to know what was in it. A charm? A ring–maybe a Blackwell ring to match Michelle's? Or a lucky coin? Her whole life she'd been prone to opening cabinets and draws, peeking into corners and poking objects with wet paints signs on them–just to know. A locked box was to her like a candy store with a "closed" sign on the window to a little kid.

As Chloe continued to scavenge, Max checked her phone and sighed. "Maybe we should just wait till tomorrow."

The original plan was to be at the cafeteria for six p.m. dinner, when they first started serving dinner. That way they'd have lots of time to investigate the memento box before they needed to head out on their raid. Naturally Chloe was late. By the time they got there, the dinner line was long and the tables crowded and by the time they got back to the tent, it was starting to get late. Too late and David Madsen would start locking up for the night.

"No, it's cool, I found it."

Chloe straightened up and held up a screw driver triumphantly like it was Sailor Moon's sceptre wand. Max's lips twitched; she wasn't sure Chloe would appreciate the comparison.

But then Chloe's brow furrowed and she glared down at the screw driver. "Fuck."

"What?"

She looked pale, knuckles white as she gripped the screw driver's handle. "Oh shit. Max..." Her voice trembled and Max scooted to her side as she saw her expression. She looked gutted, just like she had when Max had told her about being held in the dark room. "I know how they found the gun."

Drawing close, Max rested a hand on Chloe's shoulder giving it firm squeeze. "How?"

"I fucked up. I was looking for this thing the other day in my truck." She waved the screw driver around. "And I... pulled the gun out instead by accident. Just for a second. I didn't think anyone saw it."

"But someone did." Max nodded to herself. That would explain one mystery. "Who though?"

She hung her head, looking as miserable as Max had ever seen her. "I dunno. There was a lady hanging around. I've seen her before at dinner. Keeps giving us the evil eye."

"If she lost everything in the storm maybe she wants to sell it off to make some money."

Chloe huffed. "Or maybe she's worried about the gay plague in Arcadia Bay and she's planning to pop us in our sleep." She shook her head. "Shot to death by step-douche's own gun. How lame would that be?"

Something in Max' chest clenched so hard she could barely breathe. Her mind flashed to Chloe's body on the bathroom tiles, blood staining her shirt, Chloe's body hitting the dirt in the junkyard, a bullet hole through her skull, her eyes open wide in shock. Wrapping her arms around Chloe, Max buried her face in Chloe's shoulder. "It doesn't matter whose gun it is."

Chloe's arms wound around her, vice-like. "Hey Max, it's cool. We're fine." She pressed her lips to Max's head. "I didn't mean to–"

"I know." Max drew in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of smoke and leather that always clung to Chloe. "Let's just... open the box."

Max handed Chloe the box and she fiddled with it until she'd managed to jam the screw driver under the lock hinge. She twisted. The lock popped. Inside was something small. Metallic. Brassy. Max reached for it at the same time as Chloe's fingers plucked it up.

And the world wavered around them.

#

They were standing on a sidewalk under the sickly yellow glow of a guttering streetlight. Chloe's arm was wrapped around Max's shoulders. Max was still in a server's outfit, with a low-cut white tee and a half apron. Glancing down at her own outfit, Chloe realized it was familiar too: a bulky gray and red flannel shirt over a black frowny-face tee. It was the same getup she'd had on when they'd been to that dive bar Michelle worked at. Raking the street with her gaze, she spotted it across the street, the Puget Fugit sign, neon lights turned off for the night.

"Shit, it's after closing."

Max shuddered. "I don't like this. Did you see what was in the box? It looked like–"

Laughter and slurred cursing shattered the nighttime stillness. Chloe's head spun. There, stumbling out of a bar just up the street, a group of men, some in leather jackets and torn jeans, others in baggy sweats and hoodies. And then a car engine roared to life, tires squealing against the pavement as it tore down the street.

She froze, staring at the headlights, caught in their glare like a deer.

Bangs. Like fireworks. Louder. Closer.

"Chloe!" Max yanked at her, pulling her away, pulling her down to the sidewalk.

The car screeched away. Chloe drew in a ragged breath. "Max?"

Max was on the pavement next to her, her mouth twisted into a grimace. A red splotch was blossoming on her white tee like one of the flowers inked onto Chloe's arm.

"Shit! Max?" She grabbed her by the shoulders. "Max come on! Talk to me!"

A faint whimpering noise and then Max's eyes fluttered open. "Chloe," she murmured, her breathing quick and shallow. "It hurts."

"Fuck." Chloe could hear the tremor in her voice, could feel herself go cold, as if it were her blood spilling out onto the pavement. Her hands trembled as she reached out to grip Max's face. "Max, look at me. It's not real. Okay? We'll be home in a few seconds." Max's eyes were squeezed shut but she gave a little nod. "Hang in there, okay? Just a few more seconds."

Tears rolled down Chloe's cheeks, leaving a trail of heat on her skin. Ice encased the rest of her body, raced through her veins. She couldn't feel the pavement under her side, couldn't feel her fingers as she pressed her hand against the red splotch on Max stomach. Max flinched, a cry leaping from her throat. Chloe pressed her lips to Max's forehead. "Just a little longer. Hang in there. Come on, Max, you can't leave me, okay? Hang in there. Just a bit longer."

As they lay there, foreheads pressed together, she kept repeating it over and over, chanting it. Max's skin was pale, greyish like sea foam during a storm. Her shirt was sticky and wet against Chloe's chest. Sirens blared, getting louder. Max shuddered against her. Chloe clutched her closer. "Don't you dare fucking quit on me, Max. This isn't real. You're fine." Max was so pale, her breathing so shallow. Chloe pressed harder against the wound and pressed her face against Max's head, sobbing into her hair. "Just... a bit... longer."

The sirens were closer, louder. "A bit longer."

Something with flashing emergency lights pulled up in the street, filling her sight with red. "Just a–"

#

The world went from flashing red, to lime green. Chloe blinked down at the bullet pinched between her fingers. And then she dropped it into the box, gaze snapping up to Max. Max's eyes were wide with shock as she looked from the box to Chloe. Her hand shot down to her belly.

"Shirt off. Now!" Chloe growled.

"I–I'm fine. I–"

"Now." Max didn't argue further. She peeled off her winter jacket and then the long-sleeved grey shirt underneath it, down to nothing but a bra. Chloe swooped in, inspecting her belly, hands feeling around her back, checking for wounds, checking for blood.

Nothing.

She pulled Max into her arms and buried her face in her hair. "Thank God." The waterworks had started up again and she scrubbed at her eyes with one hand, while the other pressed Max close against her.

"I'm okay now." But Max's voice quavered, like she was on the verge of tears too. "What about you? Are you–"

"I'm fine. Fuck it, Max, I'm–" She drew back and held Max by the shoulders. "Don't you ever fucking do that again. A bodyguard's supposed to take a bullet for the hero, not the other way around."

Reaching out, Max's hands, came to rest on Chloe's cheeks, her thumbs brushing away tears. "You've taken enough bullets, Chloe." Her coat was unzipped, and Max's eyes dropped, coming to rest the bullet necklace dangling around Chloe's neck. Max clutched it for a moment. "Chloe..." Her voice cracked. And then she curled into Chloe and began to cry.

Chloe held her against her chest, not knowing quite what to say. But she was just so damn happy to have her there, to have her be okay even if she was a snotty, sobbing mess. Chloe squeezed her as tightly as she could. "I love you so much, Max."

"Chloe." Max took a shuddering breath. "Let's just go."

"Go?"

"Let's get in your truck and drive away."

"Where?"

"Anywhere." Another sob wracked Max's body. She sucked in air again, trying to speak. "Let's just get out of Arcadia Bay." Holding on to Max, Chloe took long, slow breaths, feeling like she'd just been kicked in the gut. "We could... go to California. Like you always wanted."

But California was where she'd planned to go with Rachel. And Rachel was dead. Because of Nathan Prescott. Because of Mark Jefferson. And if they ran and Jefferson walked... "Max?" Max drew back, just enough to look up into Chloe's face. Chloe heaved a sigh. "I hella can't believe I'm saying this but... I think we should stay."

"What?" From the look on Max's face, Chloe might as well have said that she'd decided to stop dying her hair, buy a pair of pom-poms, and try out for the Bigfoots cheerleading squad.

She reached for Max's hands and squeezed them. "I think all this is happening for a reason. And maybe we need to see it through. Who else is going to make sure Jefferson's ass stays in jail?"

"Chloe." The anguish in Max's voice cut through her and almost made her change her mind. "I'm scared that if we stay something will happen to you. And I won't be able to go back and fix it this time."

"You're the one who just got shot."

Max shook her head. "But it was supposed to be Susan, wasn't it? She was the one in the hospital."

"You had your arm in a sling. They must've both gotten hit. You didn't roleplay that right. You were supposed to let me take it."

Max's steely gaze locked with hers. "Not ever. Not again."

Chloe sighed. "Only one way to settle this." She held out her fist.

"Wha–"

She pumped her fist once. "I win we stay. You win we go."

Max's mouth opened but then she nodded and held out her hand. One. Two. "Come on, Max, let's rock."

Three.

Max held out a balled fist, Chloe, an open hand, palm down. Slowly, she covered Max's "rock" fist and wrapped her "paper" palm around it. She squeezed Max's hand until it unclenched. "We good?"

Max nodded slowly. "Chloe, did you... cheat?"

Chloe rubbed the back of her neck. "I may have sort of primed you a bit."

"Primed?"

"Yeah when I said rock, it made you think of rock so you were more likely to choose that. Like when you show someone a yellow flashcard and then ask them to name a fruit and they say 'banana'. I read about in a science mag a while ago."

"I think I liked you better when you hated math." Max's eyes were red and swollen and she was sniffling a bit too, but Chloe loved her more than ever, even like that. Shivering, Max rubbed at the gooseflesh on her arms. Chloe scooped up her discarded generic grey shirt and held it out to her. But instead of taking it, Max leaned in again and kissed her.

Chloe's eyes slid closed, as she wrapped Max up in her arms again. Max's lips tasted of salt, tasted liked tears, but her mouth was warm and so was the bare skin under Chloe's fingers. Her hands trailed down Max's spine, making her shiver again. Max's lips moved to trail down her jaw, her neck, and a growl poured out of Chloe's throat, her pulse leaping to meet those roving lips. Her hands, roamed Max's skin, sliding up along her ribs, sliding higher.

"Hey, lovebirds." They froze as a voice sounded from right outside their tent. "Time to go."

Chloe muttered a curse under her breath and turned towards the tent flap. It would look suspicious if they just hung around the cafeteria so she'd asked Justin to keep watch and let them know when it was clear. At the time it had seemed like hella good idea. Now... "Seriously, dude, can't a girl try to get to second base in peace?"

"Chloe!" Max hissed, even as she reached for her shirt and began tugging it over her head.

Chloe grinned at her. "Come on, Mad-Love-Max. Time for the Blackwell Ninjas to get it in gear."

There was an ache in her belly that made her want to ditch the plan and go back to making out with Max. But there was a thrill in her veins that was from more than that. They were on the case again, and this time they would make sure Mark Jefferson paid for everything he'd done. One way or another.