Disclaimer: Anything familiar to you, I do not own. This is entirely a work of fan fiction for personal amusement and fulfillment. I make nothing from this and own none of it.
Chapter Two: Under Hecate's EyeChloe stood at the foot of the stairway long after Rachel disappeared up it and around the corner. Everything Mr. Amber had just revealed chased the sound of the glass-top kitchen table shattering around in her head, leaving her a bit dazed as she turned back toward Rachel's father and the woman she had called her mother for sixteen years. Blinking, she watched the District Attorney turn away from her, from the staircase and lower himself into a seat, pressing his face into hands that were beginning to show their owner's age. Mrs. Amber did not speak to her either, instead retreating to the kitchen sink without a word as if the dishes or putting away leftover food was the most important thing in the world.
Holy. Shit. Reasonably speaking, Chloe knew that no one in that house was so much as thinking of thinking about her, but for some reason she felt like she stuck out, like she shouldn't be there and that at any point one of the Ambers would lift their heads and ask what the hell she was up to. Focus. Chloe blinked. Rachel. Nodding to herself, she took one last look at the sitting room and the ruins of the kitchen table before ascending the stairs without a word to anyone downstairs. The mantra, 'Focus. Rachel.' pushed her down an unfamiliar dark hall, checking each door. Three of them were identical and white, but one bore Rachel's name, making the entire situation that much more simple. No overthinking went into opening the door or stepping inside. Overthinking wasn't really her shtick, instead Chloe was fairly certain her mother, David and most of the staff of Blackwell Academy would accuse her of quite the opposite.
That being said, the memory of shattering glass stuck with her when she stepped inside. She opened her mouth to call out for Rachel, only to find her on her bed, back to the door. Rachel was about one or two steps shy of being in a fetal position, but it was close enough to jar Chloe. Somehow, it was almost like she had never expected Rachel to be capable of being hurt in that way. Fire and anger and revenge? That sounded far more like Rachel than this. Time to rethink that, then. One look around the room was enough to discomfort Chloe further. Beside the closet was a duffel bag, not unlike the one Rachel had brought Chloe. A shirt still hung half out of it, apparently the sole survivor of whatever catastrophe had left clothing strewn about Rachel's bedroom.
The one lamp in the room was lying on its side with the lampshade on the floor beneath it, discarded in the remains of one of Rachel's plaid shirts. Okay, she was pissed. That makes sense. Chloe tried not to think about the implications involved in Rachel taking her rage out of a previously packed bag of clothing. Not about you, remember? Their mutual explosions in the junkyard had taught her to keep that kind of insecurity to herself.
"Rachel?" Chloe started, carefully. No response came, but it seemed impossible that Rachel had simply come up here, wrecked her room and gone to sleep within the thirty or forty seconds Chloe had been standing dumbfounded at the bottom of the steps. Besides, she was too still. I need to distract her, get her attention, reach her, whatever it is. Her phone vibrated insistently twice in her pocket. A combination of guilt and frustration and simply being disturbed made Chloe pull the phone out as she leaned quietly against Rachel's door.
A look at her inbox revealed several missed messages from her mother, from Eliot, from Steph, from some group chat and, most recently, from Max. Not losing my mind. She was totally here. With this new, frustrating puzzle in front of her, the idea of making ground on the one relating to Max's sudden reappearance appealed enough to her for her to take a couple of seconds to open the message.
Hey, I'm in town for a few days. I want to talk. Tomorrow morning, nine thirty, outside my old house. Don't worry about responding tonight, I'm sure what you're doing is more important.
Listed as a second later, the next message read:
I'm pretty sure that's not how the first half of The Tempest is supposed to go. But you know what they say, classics are meant to be broken. Suck it, Shakespeare.
Chloe blinked at the serious tone of the first text and the jovial one of the other but just as quickly as she pulled the phone out, Chloe put it back up, deciding that the hoard of other texts waiting on her could be read in the morning. 'What the fuck is going on' seems to be kind of a recurring question. I think I'm going to need some help answering that. She turned about the room. It was easy to drag her eyes across it and see a mess, the aftermath of some ugly storm. What she needed was something to get Rachel's attention.
A recurring theme did jump out at her on her third, uncomfortable sweep of the room. God, I hope she doesn't believe in this stuff for real, Chloe couldn't help but think as she passed her eyes over a zodiac chart, a small light that looked like it was supposed to cast stars around the room and a couple of pithy sayings about 'reaching for the stars.' Okay, we'll file that concern away for later. Maybe something to think about, something to distract would be enough to bring Rachel to back to her for the moment, to let Chloe find out just how not alright she really was.
How not alright would you be? Chloe asked herself. If you found out mom wasn't your mother, would you even want to talk to anyone? Though it was probably a sign of poor mental health to answer herself outright, the response came anyway. If I would, it would be Rachel. She had to hope that maybe her feelings were matched that intensely. Back on the bed, Rachel shifted. Chloe reached out for the nightlight and flipped it on. Immediately, very soft pinpoints of light appeared on the ceiling, soft enough that she had to squint to see them. Rachel did not seem to notice. Too small, too dark.
The busted lamp would have been tempting if the bulb wasn't shattered and the light in the large star hanging over Rachel's pinboard was too small. After switching the light off so as not to be so easily burnt, Chloe unscrewed the cover of the nightlight, the part that allowed it to shine stars across the ceiling. It was actually rather thick and so unlikely to break from simply being handled. The light inside was small, about the size of some older, oversized christmas lights. Yeah, that's not gonna work at all.
Sweeping the room one more time, her eyes landed on a box against one wall. Beneath the leg of a pair of jeans draped over it, Chloe could read the letters, G-E-N-C-Y. Bingo. She threw the jeans aside without much hesitation: it wasn't like either of them worried about wrinkling the clothing. Inside, a nice, large flashlight with a good sturdy handle sat in wait. Yes. It took half a second to finish preparing her little idea. She even suppressed the urge to congratulate herself on her quick thinking and handywork. A soft click was all the announcement given before about a quarter of Rachel's bedroom ceiling populated itself with stars properly.
That's more fucking like it, Chloe allowed herself by way of gloating before she turned back to Rachel. Perhaps it was not bright enough that Rachel, with her back turned to Chloe and the rest of the room, would have noticed. Then I'll just try to make her notice. Unphased by the notion, Chloe eased herself down onto the bed beside Rachel. The way the girl momentarily stiffened and then relaxed told her that Rachel was definitely still awake. Quietly, she reached out and pressed a hand to her shoulder, shaking her slightly.
For a moment, Chloe expected rage, like at the junkyard. Instead, grief seemed to have quelled the fire in Rachel's attitude. Chloe backed up a bit on the bed, sitting up against the headboard as Rachel turned over and followed suit. For a moment, she was looking expectantly, even curiously at Chloe. Then, her puffy, red eyes slid from Chloe's face to the room beyond her and finally went to the ceiling. Briefly, Rachel didn't react at all, but eventually, she reached out and seized Chloe in a very brief hug that probably felt stranger than it should. I mean, have I ever hugged anyone but mom, dad or Max?
"It's actually kind of beautiful," Rachel admitted when the split apart.
"And the stars are nice, too, right?" Chloe responded, grinning. Rachel shook her head and bumped lightly against Chloe's shoulder in retaliation. "That's better," Chloe said and before she knew what Rachel was planning, the girl was pressing closer to her side. One lanky, thin arm rested across Rachel's shoulders awkwardly, almost uncomfortably.
"You know," Rachel said, perhaps dodging the bigger issue. "I've always thought stars were gorgeous." Chloe wasn't sure if she knew too many people who would disagree. "That, and the dark in between them." Okay, that one's new. "Then one day," Rachel seemed like she was getting into a story telling mode. "I was reading and I found out that some of those stars are dead. They have been for a long, long time. I mean, cosmically long. The light isn't really being sent to us anymore. It's a lie. It's just lies… kind of like my family. Kind of like my life." Oh, well, shit. Chloe tried to come up with some sort of response. It took a moment more than either of them would have liked because Rachel looked down from the ceiling, from her or from the room at large and to the bed.
"I mean," Chloe sighed. "Who gives a fuck?" Rachel jerked slightly. Careful. Careful. "Okay, some of the stars are dead. Maybe lots of them. Is that light any less beautiful? Has your moth- your mom, ever really not been your mom?" Rachel shook her head and surprisingly did not pull away immediately. "What's going on in there, Rachel?" Chloe asked her.
"I'm scared, I'm sad and I'm really angry." She nodded in response and waited. "And I think I want to see her. Does that make me- is that wrong?" Chloe tilted her head and shifted, releasing Rachel as she sat more completely forward.
"I don't think so. I think you've got questions and she'll have answers."
"She wants to see me now," Rachel responded. "I want to see her. I want to know about my mother. Not just what he says," Chloe understood who he was without any sort of clarification. Mr. Amber did not have much of Rachel's trust at the moment. Okay, think, Chloe. Things have calmed down. No one's going to throw something at someone else, no one's breaking anything anymore. Unless you count taking apart her nightlight to make your light show. You know what to do.
"I can help," Chloe said, quietly. Genuine surprise flitted across Rachel's face. It would have been downright cute under other circumstances. "She and I have the same dealer, remember? We'll get ahold of Frank, first thing in the morning." Rachel shook her head again, though Chloe had to be sure it wasn't a rejection of the idea.
"And what? We're just going to walk to wherever she is? What if she's halfway across the state?" The mental image of the junkyard truck came to mind. It was still a wreck, obviously, but with time and a little work. One thing at a time. Or two things, maybe. Or three, fine, but four things at a time is a bit much.
"First, we find out whatever we can about your mother from Frank. And I chase down a text I got a few minutes ago. Then we worry about finding a ride. Besides, I think with the right tools I can take care of that problem." If I can find a way to get back into the house without anyone noticing, dad's toolbox has everything we need, if I can find it behind David's 'Look at the Size of my Dick' box. Rachel gave a mostly humorless chuckle.
"Chloe Price, saving the day again." She shrugged. "No," Rachel continued, emphatically. "I mean it. You are a badass. First the play, now this? If there's a problem, you're ready to take its legs out from under it."
"That's right," Chloe agreed instead of push modesty. "It's like I had to tell that fucker at the Mill. You could have a flamethrower, an army of robot ninjas, and a motherfucking dragon on a leash between you and Sera, and I would still get you to her." Rachel's smile seemed softer, but at the same time a little more real as she leaned back against the headboard. About that moment, the door to the room opened.
She and Rachel turned to look in unison as Mrs. Amber's face appeared at the door. She looked momentarily at the scene before her: clothing strewn about the room, a busted lamp upturned on a dresser, Rachel and Chloe less than an inch apart on the bed and of course the light show across the ceiling. The woman blinked, twisted her face into some sort of picture of the 'healthy, happy family' image she first gave off and then spoke.
"Considering the hour, and circumstances today, Chloe, do you think maybe you should contact your mother and see if she's alright with you staying in our guest room tonight? I really don't care for the idea of you walking home alone that late and to top it all off, the ash is still kind of thick." Chloe blinked and realized what this whole scene might look like to an outsider. She also realized she did not care. With all the potential for trouble and mysteries the next day held, Chloe decided sleep might be for the best. Besides, Rachel seems calmer now. If she's not, she knows where to find me.
"I don't think she'll mind. I told her I'd be hanging out with Rachel tonight," Chloe lied. "I guess time got away from me. I'll just send a text." Chloe rose to her feet, sure that the woman was about to usher her from the room. "Rachel," she turned, speaking clearly enough that hopefully Mrs. Amber knew she didn't care if the woman heard it. "I'll just be in your guest room if you want to talk. If you want anything." For a moment, Rachel didn't respond beyond a slight curling of her lips. "I promise we'll figure this out." The slight curl lessened. Chloe didn't have time to analyze that, as she could feel Mrs. Amber's impatience behind her for the first time. Or maybe you're imagining it, you ass.
"Thanks, Chloe. I've never had anyone who has ever had my back like you do." Chloe could not bring herself to look at either Rachel or Mrs. Amber in that moment. It was a shitty thing to do, but Chloe could tell by Rachel's voice that that statement might have been directed at her, but it was meant for her mother. She filed it away in a pile of things she had to let go and nodded. What am I going to do?
What am I going to do? The same thought crossed her mind several hours later as she looked from left to right and lead Rachel across a street that was unlikely to have too much traffic, being a residential area at shortly after nine in the morning. She pulled the ringing phone from her pocket and with one quick glance back at Rachel-clad in what was essentially her outfit from the concert-answered it as soon as they were on the other side of the road.
"Hello?" she asked, though she knew exactly who it was, she just wasn't sure why he couldn't answer in text.
"Price," Frank's voice didn't immediately sound dismissive, or rather it sounded no more dismissive than usual. That was a relief. Chloe raised an eyebrow in Rachel's direction. "Where are you?"
"Busy," she replied. "Do we have a deal? You keep that extra hundred bucks and just tell me what you know about Sera?"
"No," Frank said, quickly. "Not over the phone. Where can we meet? Preferably soon." Chloe glanced back at Rachel, weighing her options. If Frank was coming in person it was better if they met somewhere that she and Rachel could control things. It was getting harder and harder to think of Frank as cavalierly as she might have before, especially after getting an eyeful of his boss. "Price? Are you listening?"
"American Rust junkyard, hour and a half. I've got something to take care of first."
"Fine," Frank replied. She heard the sound of his RV starting up. Shit, does he want to be there waiting for us? "Price, what do you want with this woman? She's bad news, man."
"I've got a friend who needs to find her." Rachel drew closer, as if trying to listen in. She was close enough that Chloe could feel the warmth of her body as they turned the corner (not to mention feel Rachel bump into her, not expecting the sudden change of direction) onto a road in town she had not been down in some time. "Frank? We cool, man?" There was silence, and then Frank sighed, his long-suffering sigh. At least that's normal.
"If you're half as smart as you think you are, you won't show up. You'll forget about all of this and forget my number until you run out of weed." Frank's voice dropped. "Unfortunately, I think you're as much a dumbass as you are a smartass. Just be careful." The sudden departure from friendly conversation was not as jarring as it might have been with anyone else. Frank talked a lot of smack. Sometimes it was almost like that was his way of showing that he cared. Asshole.
Chloe had not finished putting her phone up when she saw someone walking toward them from the opposite end of the road. At first glance, she barely recognized the girl she had grown up with. Though, once one set aside the changes in hair, makeup habits and clothing style, that just left the demeanor. Max was a bit hunched forward as she approached and Chloe's difficulty in reading her face was probably as much the time they spent apart as the joint she was pressing to her lips. Jesus Christ, it's broad daylight, she thought. Wait a minute. Max fucking Caulfield's a stoner? Now this shit I've got to see.
Rachel put a hand on her shoulder and Chloe turned back. The approach of a hooded, smoking figure seemed to have caused her to raise an eyebrow. Chloe responded with a nod. Max made no move to wave or call out to them. It made the brief period of time between noticing her and the three of them coming into a range to comfortably talk awkward. She felt like explaining to Rachel that this person acting a little bit odd was her best friend and everything was going to be fine. The issue was, not only did Rachel know who this was by now, Chloe wasn't sure that the rest of it was entirely true.
Eventually, Max pulled to a stop, about five feet away from them and exhaled a long stream of smoke. Chloe immediately matched eyes with her and was actually alarmed to see that despite the calm demeanor, her eyes told a story of someone who looked fit to piss herself. That was Max for you, though, her eyes were the way she expressed herself the most, both figuratively and literally, what with her photography. Rachel released Chloe's shoulder and stepped up next to her, for which she was grateful.
"So, you're pretty pissed off at me right now."
"Yes," Chloe answered honestly. Though that was true, she was also a little confused by the entire way Max was behaving, the way the imitation of a calm and collected tone shook with each syllable.
"Think you hate my fucking guts yet?"
"No," Chloe replied, again, honestly. "But I want to chew you the hell out and get some answers."
"Sure," Max replied, and Chloe watched a certain edge about the look in her eyes soften. "But I need something, first."
"Whatever you need," she said, nodding at Max. Still, she was taken by surprise when the girl bolted the two or three steps between them and grabbed at Chloe, her arms wrapping tight around her. The surprise faded quickly and Chloe returned the hug, despite the fact that Max was threatening to squeeze the very air from her lungs. After a couple of long, long seconds, Max finally let go of her and stepped back.
"Hi," the girl said, immediately turning to Rachel instead of explaining a damn thing. The hand that was unoccupied by something that could get all three of them in some trouble reached out. "I'm Max, and that was a nice Prospero. Or, I guess, Prospera."
"So, that was you," Chloe said as Rachel reached out and shook her hand with what Chloe originally thought was bemusement. As soon as she let go, though, it became obvious what was really at work. Rachel was all but glaring at Max.
"Y-yeah," Max stuttered and this time she lowered her hood, showing off a face only slightly changed by time. Maybe it really hasn't been all that long after all. "Can we walk toward that shitty little park over that way?" Chloe could read that Rachel's anger had not gone unnoticed by the way Max's eyes dropped to the ground and would no longer match either of their gazes. What is going on with her? "Hit?" She offered the blunt.
"Actually," Chloe replied, "Yes. To both." Their hands contacted briefly and as soon as Chloe had control of the rapidly dwindling bundle of 'oh fuck yes, I needed that hours ago' Max withdrew her hand and turned to lead the way. When several seconds of silence had passed, without Rachel speaking, Chloe turned worried eyes on her. Rachel, too, was dodging matching eyes with her, but was instead staring daggers at the back of Max's head. Chloe exhaled and offered her the blunt. Rachel did not respond in the least. Chloe passed it forward without another word to the thespian.
Is she scared of me or Rachel? Both of us? Everything? Chloe hurried, confused as Max stepped off of the sidewalk and into someone's grass, to follow. Okay, just another weird thing. I think we've got bigger issues than either of those though.
"Why are you, you know, here?" After a second, she added, "I didn't mean that to sound shitty, actually. Though, I think it would make sense for it to sound shitty, so, pretend I did." Chloe heard a chuckle escape the girl, before she turned to walk backwards.
"Well, that's a long story. To make it short? I kind of ran away from Seattle." She's trying to sound funny. It is not working.
"And you came to Arcadia Bay?" Chloe asked, snorting. She again tried to include Rachel in her amusement, but the girl had turned stone faced and simply adjusted the jacket on her shoulders in response to Chloe's glance.
"I missed you," Max answered, as if it were one of the hardest things in the world to admit. "Things weren't good in Seattle. I didn't want to be there. I never wanted to go there." Well, I mean, considering that was the only time I've ever seen her fight with her mother, I believe that. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I had a couple friends. That was okay. They are okay. I just, I missed you. I wanted to stay here. So," she laughed. "Here I am. And I'm really, fucking sorry." A pale messenger bag around Max's shoulders shifted as she turned away. It did nothing to distract Chloe from seeing devastation in Max's eyes before she was facing ahead of them, approaching what amounted to an empty lot with a couple benches and a merry-go-round in it. Oh, again, what the fuck? "I shouldn't have stopped talking. I just got wrapped up in being miserable and that's a shitty excuse."
"It is," Chloe told her. Max looked back, slightly calmer. "But you're Max, so, you know, I-"
"If you're just going to fuck off and abandon her again, you can stow the bullshit." Chloe turned toward Rachel, who had finally spoken for the first time since the three met up. Conflicting feelings rose up at once, anger and surprise and maybe a little bit of amusement. "Honestly, abandoning someone like that? It's the shittiest thing one person can do to another and if you're just going to do it again, you're going to have to go through me." What is she- oh. This isn't Rachel's mother. She gets to talk to Sera however she wants. It's my choice how I deal with Max's shit.
"Hey," Chloe spoke up. For a moment, they pulled to a stop and Max stood silently facing the two, one arm inside the pocket of her sweatshirt and the other allowing her to take another hit. To an outsider from a distance the girl would look the picture of 'grace under fire' but Chloe could swear Rachel intimidated Max, from the silence, from the way she suddenly looked down and away from them yet again. "Hey," Chloe said again, until Rachel snapped around to look at her, taken aback by the tone of her voice. "I get what you're trying to do, but don't. Not with her. Not now. I'll decide how pissed I want to be about whatever I want to be pissed about. Not you, thanks." Chloe felt almost as stunned by her response as both Rachel and Max looked as each lifted their heads. For a moment, the idea that Rachel might storm off or get angrier let Chloe worry again, but just for a moment. Then Rachel cracked a grin.
"Okay, that was low as fuck of me," Rachel said, before turning toward Max, away from Chloe. "I was definitely projecting my own bullshit," It was a hell of a sudden personality shift and Chloe desperately sought some evidence that this was a character Rachel was playing and not RAchel herself. Would it be more disturbing that I'm finding none or if she were? "I'm Rachel and I'm dealing with some shit that's not your fault." When Rachel reached out, Chloe was certain it was not an act. For a moment Max didn't respond, her eyes still cast away or downward, face contorted and it caused Rachel to wrinkle her brow and tilt her head in worry.
Then, the pair shook hands and Chloe was left with more questions than she had started the day with. Max took a few steps away from them and flicked the butt of the blunt aside, stomping it down. Instead of immediately turning back or even stopping to kick dirt off of her converse, Max walked right to the merry go round and took a seat. Chloe shot Rachel a quick look and received in return the confusion she was feeling herself.
"It's actually pretty good to meet you, Rachel," Max replied. Slowly, she lifted her head and locked eyes with each of them in turn. "I've got some issues with uh, well, life, but don't ta-take it personally." She doesn't look horribly different after all, but god damn is this a different Max. "You know, you really were good as Prospera," at this Max seemed to laugh at herself. "So, confession time, Chloe."
"What's that?" Chloe asked, cautiously as she and Rachel approached the merry-go-round.
"I sort of set up a tour of Blackwell Academy today. Paid some lady to pretend to be my mother a few days ago, had her call and set something up with your principal."
"Well," Chloe said, more quickly. "Two things. 1. Kind of got suspended for the rest of the year. 2. I'm sorry, did you just tell me you ran away from Seattle to go to a tour of Blackwell Academy? Because, I get it, Max, you're a little bit of a different person now, but this seems… extreme." Without looking back at Rachel to gauge her state, Chloe dropped onto the ride, just on the opposite side of a handle from Max, allowing herself a moment to more directly take the girl's appearance in. Max returned to staring at the ground.
"I sort of, kind of hatched a plan to get into Blackwell next year and come back here." Chloe blinked. "You know, so things can be like they should have been? Like we always planned."
"Max, I've never been one to question your genius schemes and all, but you realize that you're going to have to convince your parents to let you go." Max nodded. "Okay, and, follow me here: you just got done running away from home."
"You're one to talk," Chloe lifted her head toward Rachel. "I'm pretty sure you've been living where, exactly?" Max raised her head at Rachel's words and turned to fix an inquisitive look on Chloe. "Go ahead, tell her."
"Sort of living in a truck in a junkyard." Chloe admitted, though she did so while glaring at Rachel for exposing a detail like that. "Juuuuu-ust for the last couple of days. Though I slept in the swankiest guest room ever last ni-"
"You what?!" Max asked, and in a way she sounded like her mother. Oh, damn.
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