Disclaimer: Anything familiar to you, I don't own. This is a work of fanfiction for personal amusement, fulfillment and a bit of self-therapy. I make nothing from any of it.
Chapter Thirty-Five: The Hero's Journey
Sept 17th, 2011, 10:02 PM
"It was fucking scary," Chloe told her. Perhaps this was the fiftieth or sixtieth time she used that particular sentence to describe the couple of hours she had spent in Max's company but she was having a bit of difficulty parsing through the event. "She was talking about everything she knew, and it's a lot of it. A lot of disturbing, scary shit." They had just climbed the stairs from Blackwell's parking lot and, though Chloe was fairly certain she was not supposed to be there, they hurried side-by-side across the familiar, and empty, campus.
"Like what?" Rachel queried. She was trying to be the voice of reason, but Chloe had trouble seeing her that way. Just a couple of hours ago, Rachel had been flopping half-conscious around the cab of Chloe's truck, wearing clothing that filled the cab with smoke. Add to that that she had had the pallor of a corpse when Chloe and Max finally got her into the lit cab and the girl who was now hurrying beside her, trying to reassure her, might as well have been a zombie risen from the depths of hell during their escape from that forest. The forest which is burning, now. It's like the park all over again.
"She said Mrs. Drewer has cancer and has been keeping it a secret, that she was going to die in a few months and that her replacement was some sort of like, monster, some guy named Jefferson." Rachel, who was clearly struggling to hurry alongside Chloe as they rounded the side of the school building, perked up suddenly. Yeah, she remembers that night, too. Chloe realized she probably ought to lower her voice to match Rachel's. This was not exactly the kind of thing one talked about loudly. "And it was like she knew everything that was happening with you, or she said she did. Rachel, is it true that Frank, you know…."
"He's dead," Rachel confirmed, her voice quiet. "But how would Max have known that if she was with you?" That is the million dollar question.
"She said she'd been there before, that she'd seen it." Chloe shook her head. "Honestly, I thought she was on something until the forest turned blue." Rachel slowed beneath the light of a street lamp and swallowed. At first, Chloe thought it was in memory of the state she had been in after creating the blue flash of flame. Then she was considering that maybe Rachel was beginning to feel ill again when the girl pulled to a stop and rested a hand on her stomach, overtop a shirt "borrowed" from Chloe. Never mind that it was hers to begin with.
As she watched, Rachel did not double over as if about to be ill, but only paused, staring. Chloe turned, expecting that maybe one of the security crew was walking by or maybe Samuel was working late. Well, I was almost right. They were not alone on the paths to the dormitories. Oh I don't have time for this. Max, who had promised to meet them at Steph's house had instead driven Rachel's car to the school and, since then, had not answered texts, phone calls, or Kate knocking on her door. After the evening they had just been through, Chloe's number one concern was Max and her number two was Rachel, who beyond being understandably numb was acting as one might expect from the night.
She did not expect or even desire to see her stepfather standing by the gate to the dormitories. Chloe took one sideways look at Rachel and decided then and there that if there was a fight to be had it would be between her and David. As far as Chloe was concerned, David firing a bullet at her meant Rachel had done her part in the war effort for the night. If Chloe turned away from him, she would see the light from the vicious forest fire spreading east of town. If she turned away from him, though, there was no telling what was going to happen. Do this closer to the dorms, more people to hear you scream if he pulls a gun. Also stay calm, he doesn't know it was her, not for sure.
Chloe strode past Rachel, not bothering to see if she followed. In fact, she would have been happy had she not. Mud still clung to the bottom of her boots as she slowly approached her stepfather. He was recognizable by his outline, his broad shoulders and his moustache. The majority of his facial features were hard to make out at first, but as she got closer he was looking at her with the rejected lovechild of relief and awe on his face. She did not care to try to understand the look. Chloe set her jaw and waited, giving him a once over to see a distinct lack of a firearm on him.
"Chloe," the man started and this time she heard more awe than anything else. "I thought I lost you out there."
"You thought you what me where?" she asked, sinking every drop of hostility in her body into the question. Fucker's probably drunk again. Honestly I wish I could be, too.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I pulled the trigger I-I-I just, I wasn't thinking. Then I realized, right? I want you to know I was never- I never wanted to hurt you."
"You're not drunk, you're high old man. What in the name of hell are you talking about? Never wanted to hurt me?" She hefted her arm up. There was still a clear, dark bruise around her wrist. It had not yet faded away. "You hurt anything that doesn't lick your polished boots. Now, I'm walking Rachel back to the dorms and you're not supposed to be on campus. So whatever you shot up with, take it elsewhere." No sooner had she dismissed the man and watched confusion and self-doubt creep into his face then it hit her. David, for whatever reason, had thought that the person in the mask, the one who was trying to convince him to mind his own business, the one who made fire appear from thin air… was her.
"Out there, on Bowers' parents property, what you had to see tonight…." He was trying to hold onto this faulty assumption, not to mention his delusion of himself as some chivalrous knight. If it had been her out there, he would have shot at her. Big fucking hero. "And that fire, Chloe how in the name of hell…?"
"Are you saying you started that wildfire? I think the police would be really interested in that." She was doing everything she could think of to steer the subject away from his encounter with Rachel, from Frank Bowers. It's not gonna work. He still thinks you dealt drugs for Frank. Deal with this now and find out if Max is okay. "Honestly? Fuck that, I don't care if you're a serial arsonist or not, you're a skeevy fuck and if you don't walk away right now and keep your mouth shut, I'm reporting the spycam in my bedroom." The look of wonder, of relief at her presence faded. What was left was an echo of the confused, lost manchild she had last seen staring up at her from behind the broken bannister at the top of the stairs. It whet Chloe's appetite more than a little for confrontation.
"You wouldn't dare," he said.
"You spied on me in my room, where I change, where I do other things that are none of your business. Now you've gone somewhere, tweaked out on who knows what and made up some kind of story about me being there when you started a wildfire and now you're stalking me. Again. You think I won't call the cops if you don't fuck off now?" Where the fuck is security? How did none of them report him for just standing here? Who knows how long he's been here. Rachel must have heard the anger rising in Chloe's throat after a long night of being jerked around and given half of the information she needed, wanted, deserved. The blonde, her hair hanging loose and still damp in the night air, stepped up beside Chloe. Rachel's left hand rested firmly between Chloe's shoulder blades. Normally it would have cause some shiver at the contact, but right now all Chloe wanted was this thing out of her way and Max to answer her door.
Chloe did not try to 'listen in' on the conversation that passed between Rachel and David through looks, through silent stares and two people refusing to blink. Whatever was communicated-if anything-seemed to convince David it was time to go. The man, who Chloe could now see was wearing pants drenched in mud and ash, dropped his hands to his sides and took one long step to his right as if to clear the path for them. Chloe was about to make another shot at David when Rachel did it for her.
"There's at least a decent chance you're a predator and even if not you and I both know you don't belong around teenagers and children. If you're still here when Chloe comes out, I'm calling the cops." Chloe didn't bother to try to see David's reaction, she merely beamed a smile at the back of Rachel's head as the blonde pulled her along toward the front door to the dormitory. If there weren't a pit in her stomach the size of her own head about the idea that Max had not answered phone call, text or even Kate's pleas, Chloe would have hummed. As it was, they climbed the stairs in quiet. Someone had the television on in the lounge on the bottom floor but whoever it was sat in relative silence. They climbed the steps to the second floor and, much to their surprise, found that Kate and Dana were waiting on them.
Dana was still dressed for her day, for the most part. Her hooped earrings had been replaced by studs and she was in her socks, but was otherwise still clearly awake. On the other hand, sitting beside her with their backs to the wall on either side of Max's door, was Kate. Kate, apparently feeling uncomfortable with ever letting her hair down, bore a ponytail which was the most relaxed Chloe had ever seen her hair looking. Buns have to be bad for it, Chloe thought as she approached the two. Otherwise, Kate was dressed in the pyjamas that Chloe figured she was wearing when Rachel called half an hour ago, desperate for someone to go check on Max. What had brought Dana out, Chloe couldn't say. The look of determination on the put-together girl's face when Chloe and Rachel came to a comfortable distance for talking made Chloe want to thank whatever it was. Maybe she heard Kate knocking.
"Hey, guys," Chloe greeted.
"Max hasn't so much as made a peep," Dana told her, her face still hardened. "Look, I know this is shitty to say but, are you prepared for what you might find in there?"
"Prepared for what?" Kate asked Dana as Chloe pulled to a stop in front of them. Chloe knew damn well what the actress meant and so did Rachel. Judging by the uncomfortable way that Kate wrapped her arms around her middle, she did too. She wants Dana to be wrong. So do I.
"Max wouldn't," Rachel chimed in. Rachel looked a little uncomfortable wearing no shoes or socks. She shuffled her feet on the old carpet and looked first from Chloe to Kate, the latter of which did not look up. This caused Rachel to take a step toward Kate and then kneel down. If David had been in a more observant mood he might have asked questions about the lack of shoes, because Kate certainly seemed to, looking up at Rachel curiously. Only two steps away, Max's door waited for the unexpected foursome to knock again, or worse. "It's not gonna happen, Kate, do you know why?" The dirty-blonde shook her head but she met Rachel's eyes and Chloe felt her heart sinking as she and Kate, together, fought the idea. "It's not going to happen because Max is the strongest mother fucker in this school and you can take that check to the bank." Who uses checks anymore, Rachel? Sound like an old lady.
"Rachel." The truth was that the minute Dana planted the idea in Chloe's head there was a part of her that was sure there was a body waiting on them. "Max is scared we're leaving her. She's scared that when she finally tells us the truth, the whole truth, we'll leave her. I told you that."
"She's scared, fine," Rachel shot back. "We've all been scared. Remember the junkyard after the play last year? I was so scared that I almost ran away from you instead of talk to you." Chloe shook her head. In their present company, which was openly listening to them as each of the other girls rose to their feet, Chloe had to choose her words carefully.
"Max said that after she explained how she knows the things she does, we Would leave her. Capital W, already decided, Would. I know that's bullshit, you know that's bullshit, but to her she was telling me the absolute truth for the first time since she came back to Arcadia Bay. Maybe not all of it, but everything she said was completely true." Chloe ignored Kate and Dana as they shared a look between each other. Yes, this was getting to be complicated and perhaps even awkward to them but Chloe was watching what she said. Rachel could do the same. "And last time Max went full on isolationist, the whole floor heard her, right?" Dana nodded when Chloe turned to look at her. Rachel didn't speak.
None of this is because Max doesn't care. I'll never be stupid enough to think that again. Not after tonight. Max had been, other than filthy and bloody, passionate, loving and above all dedicated to Rachel's rescue. She had also stood and walked and spoken like a ghost which was withering away into the ether. Nothing, and Chloe meant nothing, was out of the realm of possibility. She took a step past them all to knock on the door and Dana reached out to stop her. The girl's hand rested just behind the bruise on Chloe's wrist and she pulled it back as soon as she realized how close it had come to pressing on it.
"Don't tell anyone about this," Dana asked the three of them, and then turned to place herself between Chloe and the door. "This is for Max. She spends all of her time looking out for everyone else. We have to look out for her." What is it that Max gets up to when I'm not looking? Is she running around playing hero to the entire school? Doesn't that tear her up inside? Dana spoke with what almost sounded like loyalty. Something small and flat, rectangular flashed briefly in the girl's hand as she reached toward the door. A credit card, holy shit, go Dana. Frankly, Chloe wasn't sure that actually worked. She was, then, happily surprised when the doorknob turned and open half an inch before Dana pulled back and stepped away from the door. "Come on Kate," Dana announced suddenly. "I've got tea in my room. Let's have a little before bed."
Chloe turned back as Rachel took Dana's place in front of the door. Kate was looking between Rachel and Chloe and Dana with confliction. The taller of their two companions paused a few steps down the hall and glanced back. Chloe understood that Kate wanted to know what was behind door number one, but if Dana's worst case scenario was, indeed, reality, wouldn't it be better if Kate didn't see it? Chloe thought so. When their more reserved friend was a step or two away, Rachel pushed the door open all at once.
Chloe had to hurry up not to get shut outside behind her.
The room was dark and other than the filthy outfit Max had been wearing out in the woods lying discarded on the floor, there was very little evidence that anything was particularly amiss in the room. Max's phone and Rachel's keys sat at the foot of the bed which was still made from that morning. The messenger bag she carried everything around in rested right inside the door to Max's room which was not too unusual. Rachel anxiously moved past to check Max's closet. It was a completely valid thing to check: Chloe had once seen Max retreat into the closet mid conversation. When she turned back with a shrug, Chloe realized that for some reason they could see even with the light off. She was even able to spot some dirt leading from the right side of the room back to the door. Max left in those fucked up converse of hers. Without her phone.
The light, it turned out, was coming from the computer desk. The laptop's screen was dim and tilted far enough up that it was hard to make out the image on it but once Rachel crossed the room dressed in her old clothes, those long stolen by Chloe and pressed a button while shifting the screen, it came to life. A video file began to play. Okay, please don't let this be some sort of recorded suicide note? Apparently Dana's macabre theory as to Max's silence had gotten to Chloe more than she thought. Can you blame me? I've seen Max broken. She kept breaking over and over again. No, there was more to it. The way Max had talked about how much she appreciated the time they had had together, it wasn't an attempt to garner pity or worry. It was surrender. Chloe hated surrender. As far as she was concerned you had to fight until the bitter end. And if Max thinks this is her bitter end?
On the screen, the room stood mostly as it was, except that someone moved behind the computer chair which Chloe was settling into as Rachel looked over her shoulder. I need to keep an eye on Rachel, too. A young woman dropped into the chair on the camera, one with familiar eyes and familiar freckles, with a soft, sad smile that Chloe knew like the back of her hand. Rachel squinted at the screen beside Chloe but when Chloe looked her over she knew the girl was having the same thought. The person on the screen was too old to be their girlfriend and she wore her hair long, colored with a pair of stripes, one of which was not at all different than the color of hair Chloe currently and most commonly wore.
The woman staring out at them from the screen, by almost every measure, was Max Caulfield.
"Hello, Max." This woman greeted her in a soft voice but with clarity, as if speaking to someone treasured and respected and then brushed her hair behind her left ear, revealing in the process several braids. "It's been a long road for you and I don't think it's over yet, but I know you're exhausted. I'd give you time to rest if I could." Transfixed on the screen, Chloe tried to read the woman's face. Oh, she spoke with some emphasis and even once gestured with her hands in a familiar way, but all in all her voice was very serene.
It was that hand gesture, a soft wave of her left hand that accompanied an apologetic tone that ran through Chloe's mind when the pieces began to fall into place. In the document which Chloe had found on Max's hard drive, Max talked about seeing a woman everywhere she went, watching her, a woman whom Chloe had bumped into in Portland. Chloe had bumped into a woman in Portland, alright, at a nightclub after one of the longest days of her life. For a split second, she had even mistaken this woman for Max's mother. I think she was even wearing this fucking shirt and jacket, Chloe muttered. Something about the jacket bothered her.
"That's Max," Chloe said. "Not our Max, but it's Max."
"How do you mean?' Rachel asked.
"Our girlfriend knows the future. She's always just where someone needs her to be when they need her. She always shows up for major events and stops people from getting hurt or killed. She was talking about having watched tonight over and over again."
"Under your laptop is about two hundred dollars, a bus ticket and a plane ticket. The bus ticket will get you to Portland. From there, you'll be getting on a plane at Portland International to Los Angeles." Chloe immediately lifted the computer up and found nothing that had just been described in the video. Oh god, she's gone. "So, here's what's going to happen. It's going to be rough for you, but you're going to go to the building that one time might have been called Arcadia Studio." The woman on the screen cracked her knuckles quickly, as if to signify things were getting serious. She looked to be in her mid-twenties if Chloe had to guess. Either Max had a secret twin sister with some kind of mysterious disease that made her age faster or…."It shouldn't be hard for you to make it in time. I know you don't think you want this, but it's going to be worth it."
Rachel was beginning to understand what Chloe understood. She could see it in the way the blonde's mouth hung open, the way she gripped Chloe's shoulder and the computer desk in front of her tight enough to make her knuckles pale. Chloe could hear it in the sudden gust of wind pushing past her and rattling the window which, somehow, came from inside the room, from Rachel herself. Puzzle pieces settled into place and Chloe found her right hand covering her mouth as she became more and more sure.
"You're starting to realize this is it, this is your chance for an answer, aren't you? This is your chance to find out if you can accept who you really are. Then come. Leave the laptop, leave everything. Bring your money, bring your ID, your real one and bring the tickets, just come. I will be waiting on you." Chloe pushed herself out of her seat. Get to the bus station. If you hurry, maybe you can still catch her.
"Our girl's a fucking time traveler," Rachel said, left hand rising from the desk to rest in her own hair. The thespian was still in enough shock that she almost fell over when Chloe knocked the computer chair aside. It was a very close thing. Chloe was about to tell her to hurry, to follow her, when she turned toward the door and found that the way out was blocked.
"Yes, yes she is." Rachel spun about quickly. The woman from the video was leaning with her back to the dorm room door. As soon as she was sure she had their attention, she reached over and flicked the light switch. As the light filled the room, Chloe was able to do more than see this woman. She could feel her. Some people simply emitted a presence when you were in the room with them and Max had always been one of them. Whatever else was going on, the woman crossing her arms and smiling smugly down at them was Max fucking Caulfield. "Your girl is one hell of a time traveler, by now. I still know a few tricks and tips she doesn't, but that's all about experience." That cheeky Max Caulfield 'I'm Just Teasing' grin split the woman's face and it was disorienting to watch, precisely because of how natural it looked there. Max. Max, from the future. "Jesus Christ, I forgot how young and hurt you two looked." Chloe raised an eyebrow at her.
"Come find out who you are," the woman finished on the screen behind them. Chloe stretched out a hand toward the one opposite of her. From the corner of her eyes, Rachel was watching her in curiosity, if not trepidation. This older Max took Chloe's outstretched hand, squeezed it once and spun it around to pat her hand as she clenched it. It was a comforting gesture that their Max didn't particularly do but for some reason it made Chloe feel a little weaker on the inside. As exhausted as Max had looked or Rachel must secretly be, Chloe realized that she was weary. It seemed the older Max Caulfield, who was still wearing the outfit she had been the night Chloe first saw her, realized it too. The piece of that outfit that gave Chloe the most pause was the very familiar leather jacket slung across her shoulders. If she was right it was awfully similar to one she knew to be thrown across Rachel's bed right now.
"I know you want to find your girlfriend and help her right now," the brunette woman with the braids told them. Chloe found herself glancing at the woman's eyes. They were the same deep dark blue of Max's but there was some extra depth there, a depth she wasn't sure that she wanted to plumb. The woman sighed and looked away from her, toward Rachel. Her words were comforting but there was some difficulty behind them, some discomfort of her own. "Right now the girl you love is on her way to Los Angeles where she and I are going to meet up in the morning." And how is that? "It's a place which doesn't hold any real personal meaning for her. She thinks it does. I'm hoping that she'll realize she's wrong. She's trying to figure out right now whether she is breaking or she is healing."
"And which is it?' Rachel asked, projecting her voice, projecting her confidence. "Breaking or healing?"
"You're smarter than that," the woman admonished. "You know it all comes down to her. In this case, it comes down to whether she can accept reality." This time, she reached out a hand to Rachel, who did not move, did not take it.
"What does that mean?" The older Max Caulfield simply held her hand aloft, asking for Rachel to take it. When the thespian stayed where she was, arms at her side, the woman stuck that hand into her jacket, instead. Chloe thought it was simply to have something to do with her hand while she spoke, but instead the woman freed a long, white envelope.
"In here is three hundred dollars, two bus tickets to Portland and two round trip tickets to LA." The envelope was thrust forward, toward Rachel. "Go get your girl. Give Dana a hundred to make sure Max and your names get on the curfew check sheet. She is trying to save up money to help a sick friend and she will do it, happy to be able to help the three of you. Get Rachel's ID and anything else she needs from her room. Take the rest of the cash and get to LA, get to the Hotel Du Sommeil on Crestfall Avenue by 7:30 in the morning." There was a fair amount of time built into that, as long as nothing went horribly wrong that caused a delay. It did, however, mean that they were going to be taking a red eye there and possibly even back.
"Where are you getting the money?" Chloe asked, unable to shake her curiosity for this frankly unimportant question.
"Your girlfriend's stash," the brunette answered immediately, gesturing toward Max's mattress. "Keeps it next to the cheap shit vodka which you guys should start hiding every time she buys for a while. Actually, I took that, too. I'd say 'shh, it's our little secret' but frankly, I don't think she'll mind. And hey, if she's gonna get pissed at me for stealing it's probably going to take her a while to develop her powers to the point where she can come chase me down for compensation, if it ever happens." The woman looked amused at the idea and Chloe understood this to be Max Humor. Max Humor was often out of place and could have been used to cover up her awkwardness or maybe she simply had a need to make an uncomfortable situation funny. It didn't matter. "And before you ask where she's getting it, figuring it out is on you."
Chloe intended to.
"We'll have to take a cab when we get to Portland but we can probably make it there in time," Rachel mused, opening the envelope.
"I'll make sure that you'll have time to finally get the answers you need. Everything you wanted to know." Then the woman blinked and laughed. "Not everything, actually. That would take a hella long time, but enough for a start. Enough to understand what your girl's so scared about, what's hurting her. The rest is gonna have to be on you three." The whole situation was just absurd enough that for a moment, Chloe closed her eyes and tried to feel for the edges of a dream somewhere in the distance. Frankly, she didn't even have the good graces to feel embarrassed when she opened them without finding any. Okay, I'm definitely awake. Max is a fucking time traveler. Holy ballsacks. The woman rested a hand in either jacket pocket and glanced once or twice around the room, as if wistful.
"Are you, you know, our Max from the future?"
"No," the woman replied, bluntly. "But I'm pretty damn close. Things didn't play out exactly the same though."
"How close?" Rachel pushed. If she was letting this conversation go on, Chloe was sure they had plenty of time to get to the bus station. My truck, we're taking my truck. I'll text Steph when we get there.
"Close enough that I also walked in on a Rachel and Chloe making out during a rewatch of The Phantom Menace. How you- how those fuckers could make out with Jar Jar on screen-I had nightmares." Rachel snorted despite herself and Chloe couldn't help but feel her lips curling up into a smile. This is Max, alright "Some big differences though. That one's kinda on me, but that's neither here nor there. All you need to know is I'm not your girlfriend traveling from the future and speaking of traveling, I need to get moving."
"How are you going to beat our Max there?" Chloe asked. She had no idea how long ago their brunette had left the school but unless this Max had stolen enough money from theirs to have a private jet waiting in the area (and oh, we're so going to be talking about that later, young lady) it seemed unlikely she would be there waiting on the girl.
"Your girlfriend or not, I'm still Max Caulfield and that means one thing which is very, very important and I want you both to promise never to forget." The woman cracked the knuckles of her right hand and smiled down at them as if they were the most welcome sight in the world, a tall glass of water after wandering the desert, a fluffy pillow after a long day.
"And that is?" Rachel prompted.
"Time and space are my bitches." She sounded rather like Rachel in that second, Chloe thought. One moment the woman was there in front of them, acting like a cosmic badass with a secret and the next the doorway was clear and unobstructed. Chloe gaped at the empty space and rubbed at her eyes. It was still empty when she moved her hands away. She was a little dumbfounded when Rachel pressed something into her hand, not having missed a beat. The blonde hurried toward the door, then gestured to the bag lying beside it.
"Get Max's camera, go drop off Dana's bribe and meet me outside the dorm in two minutes." Two minutes was not a lot of time and since neither of them had badass time travel abilities (abilities which scare the ever loving shit out of our Max for some reason) that meant that they were time and space's bitches. Chloe dug down into the bag and eventually found the camera she had been instructed to bring. I'll bring it with me, we'll look like fucking tourists… tourists without bags. Shit.
Chloe tried not to laugh as she walked toward Dana's room. She was going to have to sell Dana on the idea of covering for them and Kate was probably still in there: it had only been somewhere around eight minutes. Both of them would have questions she would need to be quick to come up with an answer to. Our girl's a fucking r. Chloe had to admit that for all the fear Max treated this fact with, she was having trouble seeing the downside to time travel. Shit, all night makes total sense, now. She'd gone through all of that over and over trying to save Rachel, right? I wonder what we did this time that actually worked.
She had a fair idea. Perhaps the other times Max had tried, she hadn't let Chloe come along. Whatever, Chloe thought as she knocked lightly on Dana's door and heard eager shuffling from within. I'm gonna drag Timecop Caulfield kicking and screaming back to Arcadia Bay if it kills me. When she tells me everything she's been hiding, I'm gonna annoy the shit out of her until she understands she's not getting rid of me.