Dec 3, 2013 - First Choice Timeline
"This is where you want to take photos?" Victoria couldn't help but let the disgust slip into her voice, and Max couldn't help but to notice, snickering at the thought that Victoria just couldn't help but to be Victoria.
"What's so funny," the queen of Blackwell asked, obviously caught off guard by Max's laughter.
"Nothing," Max said.
"Not buying that."
"Just, it's nice is all. This. You, trying."
"Of course it is. I'm helping." Dog. Did she sound offended just then? Way to stick your foot in your mouth, Max.
"Yes," Max laughed. "Yes, you are." The smaller girl hugged herself with one arm, resuming her usual defensive posture. It felt… strange, entering American Rust with Victoria in tow; and not just because of the obvious disconnect between the filth and poverty inherent in the setting and the elegance and wealth that Victoria embodied – although Victoria's outfit definitely cost more than Max's tuition. Perhaps Max should have warned her of their destination before they had departed Blackwell. She remembered how upset Victoria had been about getting paint on her cardigan. How would she react if she snagged her cowl-neck designer sweater on a stray sign or rusted car frame?
Max huddled into her hoodie sweatshirt combo, bracing herself against the December chill, extremely cognizant of the fact that she was also wearing Chloe's beanie. She looked over her shoulder, catching Victoria maneuvering through the debris of the junkyard, keeping a careful distance between her expensive outfit and the filth and dangers of the setting. Yeah, Max should have warned her, but it really wasn't just the contrast between American Rust and Victoria's image that made the pairing so strange. There was also a nagging sense of betrayal eating at Max as she welcomed Victoria into Chloe's private lair. She offhandedly tugged Chloe's beanie down tighter as she thought about that growing sense of treachery. This place had meant something to Chloe. American Rust had been special, a safe haven where her friend had retreated from all the shit and hurt of the outside world, and had found some refuge and peace. How would she feel knowing that Max had invited one of her least favorite people into that private domain?
"So," Victoria started again. "Are you going to clue me in on why this place of all the places in Arcadia Bay? Or do you just like keeping me in the dark?"
She's trying, Max reminded herself. Don't snap. Be nice.
"I'd prefer Blackwell," Max said, doing her best to maintain a friendly tone. "Kind of hard not to get caught cheating there, though."
"Wait, your favorite place for photos is Blackwell?"
"Dog, no." Max laughed a little at the thought. "Oh man, um… It's just easier, you know. We could just get it over with."
"That's the spirit." Max shook her head. Did Victoria have to say that with so much sarcasm?
"How do I put this…"
"Forget it, Max. You don't owe me anything." Victoria lifted the camera from Max's messenger bag at her side. "It's not like I've been the best of friends to you. Just point me to our target."
"No." Max sighed. "You deserve… better." She lightly kicked at the body of an old SLR camera, resting on a discarded tire. It deserved better, too. Chloe had enjoyed taking her frustrations out on the random junk of American Rust, but as Max knocked over the camera all she could think about was how she had destroyed its peaceful rest. Destructive escapes might not have been her thing after all.
"Blackwell…" she continued. "It's not so much easier as it is… safer? Does that make sense?"
"This place does look like a breeding ground for disease," Victoria said, running a gloved finger across the rusted hull of an ancient, blue boat. "And tetanus."
"There is that, but I kind of meant something else." Max shrugged. "Blackwell is… crowded…you know. And my room is close by, which, you know, plus." She hung her head at that last part. She knew how stupid it sounded.
"Easy to escape back to the hipster lair?" Apparently, the implication had not been lost on Victoria.
"Yeah, something like that."
"I get it, I guess." Victoria rubbed her glove against Max's messenger bag, and as Max watched she suspected the girl was attempting to clean off a smudge of rust from her gloved finger. She figured she'd let that one slide. Much as Victoria may not have been Max's ideal confidant, in some ways she knew more than even Kate and Dana now. She knew about the Dark Room and Jefferson, even if neither girl had explicitly named either. If Max were ever going to open up, it appeared that her choice of counselor had been made for her. Of course, it had to have been the closest person Max had to a rival or adversary in the entire school. Fate had an awkward sense of humor like that.
"It's not just the quick retreat, really."
"No?"
"There's just… there's less a chance of seeing Nathan.
Victoria stopped in her tracks. Max understood. She and Nathan had been close. Bringing him up, it had to be a sore subject. Still, Victoria had her confronting photography. Nathan's friendship to Victoria couldn't be any more traumatizing to her than Max's new found association with cameras and the Dark Room was for herself. She slowed down, toeing the dirt as she waited for Victoria to say something. Anything.
"He's under house arrest," Victoria said at last.
"So I've heard."
"Not seeing him unless you decide to pay him a visit, really."
"Yeah, I guess." Max didn't believe that for a moment, but she appreciated Victoria's attempt at comfort; although honestly she wasn't certain if that attempt was for her or for Victoria herself.
"You guess?" Okay, maybe it was stupid to expect Victoria to drop it.
"Just something David – Mr. Madsen said."
"Oh. He's a paranoid fuck. Maybe don't lend him much credence."
"Maybe."
"Shall we?" Victoria raised Max's camera once more, and Max guessed now was as good a time as any. She couldn't delay the inevitable forever.
"Yeah. It's just up ahead," she replied, pointing off towards an all too familiar, graffitied, cinder-block hovel near the tracks. "Follow me."
As the two girls made their way through the maze of junk and discarded memories, Max pondered the unusual course of her day. When she had first stirred that morning, she had never imagined she would be spending the hours ahead traipsing across Arcadia Bay with Victoria freaking Chase. Yet, surprised as she had been when Kate suggested the three of them talk, she had understood the need to confront Victoria.
Their encounter the previous day had laid bare some deep wounds, and Max needed to know if that trauma was hers to keep, or if it had been made public. She had been surprised to discover that Victoria had not only kept her secret, but fully intended to do so indefinitely. She had been even more surprised to learn just how far Victoria was willing to go to help her. The girl was certainly rough around the edges ( in a much different way than Chloe ), but it had been nice to see that core fragment of good surface once more that she had seen in the previous timeline. Perhaps, in a different life, one where Max hadn't murdered her best friend and didn't find herself weighed down by multiple timelines of trauma, she would have initiated a plan to seize onto that little spark of good and help Victoria polish it; to help that kindness shine through and diminish those sharp edges. Now, well, now Max just hoped that she didn't dim that spark with her own self-interest and grief.
Thankfully, even in Max's absence, Victoria had Kate to help draw that light out. Upon Kate's return that morning, the three had taken breakfast in Max's room, sitting cross-legged in a pseudo-circle on Max's rug and enjoying the finest the Two Whale's had to offer. Kate had brought Max back the tea that Victoria had requested, and the Belgian waffle for which Max had asked, but Kate being the truly kind soul that she was, had also brought an assortment of eggs, bacon, and pancakes to split between herself and Victoria as well, with enough left over for seconds. She obviously understood that Max would likely starve herself if easy access to meals was not provided and, as such, had thought ahead.
As the girls ate, Victoria and Max had been forced to lay out their plan with Kate, or at least their plan for a field trip. Max and Victoria had agreed before Kate's arrival that their mutual friend did not need to know that Victoria would actually be taking the photos for Max. Neither had felt the need to implicate Kate in their own misdeeds by giving her foreknowledge of their plan to cheat the system. Of course, minus the knowledge that Victoria would be doing the assignment for Max, Kate had immediately offered to join the two of them.
Max shot a panicked glance towards Victoria. They both knew that Max was a terrible liar. Omission of the truth was one thing; fabricating a falsehood was quite another.
"Kate," Victoria started, taking the lead. "I don't think that's such a good idea."
Kate frowned and Max hoped that the girl wasn't feeling excluded. They had already quite obviously sent her away for breakfast, and now once more they were asking to exclude her.
"No offense Kate, but Max and I, we're going to be skipping class, and we don't really know when we'll be back," Victoria continued. "One of us being absent, well that's no big deal. The two of us, we don't really have a history of hanging out, so our absences might draw some attention but they're not likely to be connected. The three of us though?"
Kate raised a questioning eyebrow. Clearly she had needed Victoria to spell it out.
"Kate, people know you and I have been hanging out. You and Max, well your friendship isn't really a secret. The three of us all being absent, the fact that we're skipping will be blatantly obvious."
Kate seemed to consider Victoria's words, and, being the trusting the girl that she was, Max felt certain that she didn't see past them either; that she didn't for a moment suspect that Victoria and Max might have other reasons to cut her out. As much as that thought was a relief, it brought with a strong sense of shame. For every step forward, Max seemed to be taking an equal or larger step back.
"And the two of you will be okay, together?" Kate's question cut through Max's shame. A palpable uncertainty gnawed at Max's friend. She needed to do something to ease her mind.
"We didn't kill each other while you were gone, earlier," Max offered. Absurd as it was, she felt that it was a very strong point, nonetheless, and even a surprising one given her track record with Victoria.
"And Max is speaking in complete sentences again," Victoria chimed in. "That's a plus in our favor."
"True," Max said; though in hindsight, the monosyllabic one word response probably hadn't lent the statement much credence.
"Okay," Kate nodded. "But, I want you to text me."
"Text you…" Victoria trailed off.
"I just want Max to let me know she's doing okay. At least once every hour or so, until you get back."
"It's like you don't trust me, Kate." Victoria laid her hand on Kate's knee.
Kate shot her a look, a mix of guilt with just enough of a shrug to admit that yes, Kate did not in fact entirely trust Victoria.
"Okay, that's fair," Victoria agreed. "I haven't really earned that yet, when it comes to our resident selfie artist. Max?"
"I-I'll text. Promise."
"Great," Kate nodded, finally satisfied with the plan. "Any advice on not being murdered by Dana when she shows up for lunch?"
Max grimaced. She hadn't thought that part through. "I always like the… l-lock yourself in your r-room approach. Though, given the circumstances, maybe you shouldn't follow in my footsteps…"
Kate let out a deep, worried sigh. "Victoria?"
"She already hates me. You could always suggest I tricked you and kidnapped her?"
A long silence had interrupted their shared breakfast then, each girl picking at their food, contemplating their options. Finally, Kate had looked up from her eggs, toying with a stray bite on the end of her fork and shrugged with a defeated sigh.
"That's alright,"she said. "I'll think of something. Just, don't be too long."
Max had thanked her then, Victoria agreeing, and the two had prepped for their day trip, finally departing with a wish of luck from Kate.
Max pocketed her Sharpie and stepped back to admire her handiwork. Her gentle script spelled out 'Max was here' across the cinderblock wall, just below the messages from Chloe and Rachel spelled out in similar Sharpied graffiti.
Behind her, Victoria stepped idly from foot to foot, not so much pacing as shifting. Max had offered her a seat, but Victoria had taken one look at Chloe and Rachel's hideout with its years of discarded cans, pizza boxes, and cigarette stubbs and opted to stay standing instead. Her loss.
"You sure about this?" Victoria's voice cracked a little, a hint of vulnerability that caught Max off guard. She couldn't blame her, however; after the flashback( ? ) she'd suffered yesterday, it seemed appropriate that Victoria might worry what effect this place would have on Max's mental state. Rachel's body had been found in this very junkyard, and, as the graffiti within made readily apparent, this hovel had obviously been a special hangout for Chloe, who Max had witnessed shot and killed by Victoria's best friend not two months prior. Yet, here Max was, writing her name up along the wall as if she were one with this duo of dead girls: girls that had both, in their own ways, been victims of Jefferson, their lives stolen away by his apprentice.
"Yeah," Max said. "There's meaning here."
"Uh-huh."
"You wanted to know how I do my hipster bullshit, right?"
"I guess," Victoria agreed.
"Well, this is how."
Max knelt on the cement floor and motioned for Victoria to join her. The girl took one look at the dirt-stained floor and glanced nervously back to Max.
"Can I not," she asked, obviously wishing to avoid dirtying her drainpipe trousers.
Max bit back a sarcastic comment, then removed her hoodie, laying it down across the cement directly behind her.
"Here," she said. If you're going to get the shot, there's no avoiding it."
"You want a shot of graffiti."
"Yes… and no. Look," Max said, using her index fingers and thumbs to create a square, Polaroid-shaped frame around her desired image. Victoria knelt behind her on top of Max's hoodie, as Max angled her hands up just right to capture the graffitied text in near the bottom left third of the frame. The top right of the frame became dominated by the open sky and the tops of a few pine trees, caught in the makeshift picture window of a missing cinder block. The angle created a perfect filter for the light to shine in, breaking in angles of angelic rays that provided a contour light to the cinder blocks, while illuminating the graffitied words in a heavenly glow.
"Positive and negative space," Max said, "with implied lines – rays of light – and physical lines – the mortar – framing up tranquility and hope in the natural light and sky, contrasting with the loss and grit entombed in the words of… v-victims." Max stumbled over the last word, knowing that in taking the shot, she'd be immortalizing herself as one of Jefferson's victims as well, even if only her and Victoria would know of the truth of that association.
Victoria shook her head. "I asked for hipster bullshit," she muttered. "I get hipster bullshit."
"True that," Max laughed, pushing past the somberness of the subject matter. "You think you got it?"
"Yeah," Victoria nodded. "Cake walk."
"Great." Max stepped behind Victoria, delicately shifting a bong out of one of the carseats, and sitting herself down as she donned the noise-canceling headphones and sleep mask. Satisfied that the noise of the shutter would be blocked, she closed her eyes and shouted, "Ready!"
Nothing happened. She sat in a darkened quiet, alone with her thoughts. She imagined Chloe and Rachel meeting up in this mish-mash of found furniture, Rachel flipping through fashion magazines, while Chloe scribbled on the walls, each sharing drinks and cigarettes, staring out makeshift windows and dreaming of another life in Los Angeles, while hundreds of miles away she sat alone in her Seattle bedroom dreaming of the day she could work up the courage to reunite with her childhood best friend. Now all those dreams had been shattered and it just wasn't fair.
A sudden pressure pushed on her shoulder and Max flipped up the sleep mask. Victoria leaned over her, gesturing for her to stand up. Removing the noise-canceling headphones, Max stood, stretching out her back as she did and letting her thoughts of murdered dreams fade to the background.
"All done?"
"All done," Victoria said, and twirled her arm, camera in hand, in an extravagant, curtsy-like gesture motioning towards the exit. "Lead the way, oh Polaroid Princess."
"Polaroid Princess? Really?"
"I figured it was better than Selfie Slut, but your call."
Max picked up her hoodie from its place on the cement floor, tossing it over her shoulder as she stepped out into the junkyard. She waved for Victoria to follow. "Polaroid Princess it is, Camera Chum."
"Nope."
"Camera Comrade? Companion? Crony?"
"No, no, and no."
"Photography Pal?"
"Still no."
"Meh. Nicknames were always Chloe's department anyway." And with that Max began weaving through the labyrinthine path to their next destination.
"Okay, now you have to be shitting me." Victoria stood, one hand on her hip, and the other palm up, motioning towards the partially taped off area of the junkyard before which Max knelt. Max glanced over her shoulder at Victoria behind her, her brows knitted as she puzzled over how to explain herself.
"No," she said, hoping she could bypass that whole explanation part. No, Victoria, she thought. I am 100% not shitting you.
"Yes. You are. You're shitting me. Absolutely shitting me. Otherwise, this is just morbid."
"Sure it is. But, there was a beauty here once," Max said, rising from her haunched position. She gestured towards the clearing just beyond the abandoned police tape, right towards the discarded piles of dirt that they both knew represented the remnants of Rachel Amber's former grave. "A deer stood right there. Stared right at me."
"There's no deer now, Max."
"No, but there was, and it was full of a sense of magic and possibility. I want to reclaim that."
"Pretty sure the bank foreclosed on your magic."
"Fuck the bank. And fuck Prescott. And doubly fuck Jefferson." Max kicked a rusted out washing machine, just off from the clearing. Come to think of it, she could see how rage-coping might have worked for Chloe afterall. "Those bastards… they're not robbing me of this. Th-they t-took t-too much, already!"
"Okay. I see that." Victoria pinched at her nose. "But, tell me, Max, how do you expect to make anyone in Arcadia Bay see what you see?"
"Look behind the tape. Do you see that sign?" Max waved at the rusted out and dented carcass of a long-forgotten crab shack.
"Sure."
"Pacific Steve's Famous Crab - a literal sign of a better past, its posts angled down towards the… g-grave… same as the bent frame of the swings, the concrete post, the stray rebar, all protruding up towards the sky, their angles all mirroring the jutting angles of the trees in the background and the reeds and grass in the foreground. Nature claiming relics of a beautiful past."
"And a fucking grave."
"Which in itself is nature reclaiming something great: Rachel Amber."
"Oh my God. Why did I agree to this?" This time Victoria didn't bother pinching her nose and just plain squeezed the palms of her hands back against her tired eyes.
"Because you felt guilty," Max said. She knew she was stating the obvious, and she knew that on some level it was mean, but she also knew that if they were going to do this, they had to take the pictures that only Max's eye would have found.
"Damn straight I feel guilty. Why couldn't you have been one of those photographers that just took pictures of beautiful sunsets or portraits of truckers or some such mess?"
"You said you wanted to help."
"Yesssss." Victoria drew out the word, clearly regretting the affirmation. "Because apparently I'm a sadist," she continued. "So, if we're going to do this, just tell me one thing? Okay?"
"Sure."
"When you're taking pictures of squirrels and other nature shit, is this the type of stuff you're thinking about?"
"No. I'm thinking oh look, a cute squirrel. Want. Need cuddles."
"Thank Fuck." Victoria nodded to Max. "Alright. Time to gear up."
Max smiled moving aside and donning Victoria's headphones and sleep mask once more.
Max withdrew her buzzing phone from her pocket: the readout clearly displaying Dana Ward Calling.
"Her again," Victoria asked behind her.
"Yeah," Max said, hitting the decline button and pocketing her phone once more. The call ended before it began, and she returned her focus once more to her balancing act upon the railroad tracks.
"You know, you're going to have to answer eventually?"
"I could say the same for you," Max said, her arms splayed to either side, almost like a child playing airplane, as she wavered from side to side struggling to maintain her position on the left-most rail.
As if on cue, Victoria's phone began to ring.
"See," Max said.
"Bite me." Victoria switched her phone to mute. "You know, she's your friend. You're the one that's going to have to deal with an angry Dana."
"That's future-me's problem. Present-me just wants to ride the rails."
"Uh-huh."
Their phones muted, the pair resumed their walk in silence, Max remembering a different day in that lost week, her hand clasping Chloe's as they made their way down this same path.
"Now you have me to protect you," she said, her fingers grasping Chloe's own, offering her momentary support. It had been an act of play, of balancing, but also an assurance as Chloe struggled with the numerous disappointments of her life, and of the people that had failed her, including Max.
As their hands slipped apart, Chloe replied. "I'm just glad you were here."
They had been talking about Frank then, about their encounter with an angry drug dealer, who also happened to be wearing Rachel's bracelet. Without Max's rewind, she doubted Chloe would have made it out of that meeting alive, not that it mattered now.
It was a different journey on the tracks, however, that cried for Max's attention: a journey back to the junkyard after a (near)fatal train accident: once near, many times fatal. Time travel confused reality.
That return trip though, that had been a one-time affair, Max and Chloe bonded, Chloe's arm around Max's shoulder and Max's around Chloe's waist. They had been so close, Chloe's warmth pressed to Max's side. Cigarettes and cheap cologne had never smelled so incredible, so full of wonder and hope and anticipation.
"My powers might not last," Max said.
Chloe shot an honest grin her way, briefly locking eyes with Max. She could have lost herself in the blue of Chloe's gaze. She tried to pause the memory in her head, to hold that image as clear as she could, but time marched on, and so did the memory.
"That's okay," Chloe said. "We will – Forever."
Max stumbled, slipping from the rail onto the tracks proper. Try as she might, she couldn't hold back the single tear that had snuck its way up from the depths of memory. She wiped at her cheek, attempting to hide the gesture with a stretch and a yawn.
"You okay, Caulfield?"
"Yeah. Just clumsy is all."
"Uh-huh."
Victoria knew Max was full of shit. Max knew that Victoria knew. They both silently agreed to pretend otherwise.
Max considered that perhaps she should open up. Victoria already knew about her depression and grief. She knew that Chloe's death had been the trigger. She knew about her panic attacks and about the Dark Room and Jefferson. She had most of the pieces of the puzzle. Would it really hurt to give her a few more? The time travel part, that was out of the question if Max didn't want to be locked in a looney bin, or break her promise with Chloe and plummet Arcadia Bay into catastrophe once more. But, Dana and Kate already knew about her week reconnecting with Chloe, at least in theory. It could be nice to have someone with whom she could be more open; someone who had a more complete picture than the rest. Much as she appreciated both Kate and Dana's friendships, Max just couldn't see herself volunteering to let anyone else in on… her time with Jefferson; which left Victoria as her only option.
"So, we almost to the next shot," Victoria asked.
Max paused, listening to the sounds of nature all around her. She could feel a gentle breeze stirring, and a light chill in the air. Up ahead, she could see a switch in the tracks, and a small station on a tiny hill.
"Yeah," she said, noticing how the composition would easily frame the structure in the background. She passed it off as if that were by happenstance. "This seems as good a spot as any."
"Wonderful. Mind setting the scene?"
Max dropped her hoodie from her shoulder, setting it just off from the tracks. She knelt in front of it, framing up the shot with her finger-thumb viewfinder. Victoria watched, kneeling on Max's hoodie so as to take in the planned shot.
"So," Victoria started. "Just some empty tracks and an old substation or storage shed or whatever the hell that is?"
"Not quite. I would have used a tripod on this one. Timing's important." Max stepped onto the tracks. "Check the composition. Tell me when I'm in the left third of the shot, my hairline just under the cutoff so there's no gestalt funny business."
"You sure about this?"
Max gestured as if to cover her ears, silently letting Victoria know that she had no intention of hearing the shutter click.
"Yeah, yeah, gotcha," Victoria said, as Max began walking the tracks. "I suppose no Caulfield photoshoot would be complete without at least one selfie."
"Now you're getting it." Max smiled. She knew Victoria couldn't see her, but that didn't matter. There was a banter between them, and minus Victoria's usually pointed insults, Max found it comforting if not altogether familiar.
"Okay. Stop."
"Right here?"
"Almost. Back up a scootch."
"A scootch?"
"Fuck you, hipster."
"Loud and clear." Max took one tiny step back. "That a scootch?"
"Perfect," Victoria said. "You ready?"
"Not yet." Max pulled out Victoria's headphones, sitting them on her head, but not yet covering her ears.
"Um… are we waiting for anything in particular?"
"The train," Max said. "There's usually one in about," Max pulled out her phone, checking the time. "Five or ten minutes."
"So we just sit here for five or — wait, you're in the middle of the tracks."
"Don't worry. I'll move."
"Yeah… I'm not really up for snapping photos of a depressed hipster standing on the train tracks waiting for an incoming train."
"Lines. Real and psychological. Tracks and impending impacts. Negative spaces, liked depressed mind sets. It all," Max snorts, "tracks with the assignment."
"Okay. That was terrible."
"The pun," Max asked, looking over her shoulder. "Or the explanation?"
"Both? Why are we really here?"
Take the leap, Max. This was it: her moment to open up.
"No reason," she said. Good job, Max. Way to seize the day there.
"Not buying it. You're a terrible liar, Max."
"So I hear."
"Hmmm." Victoria set Max's camera down and took a seat on her hoodie.
"What are you doing," Max asked. Off in the distance came the faint sounds of a train.
"Oh this," Victoria asked, cracking her knuckles and settling back on her haunches. "I thought I'd take five."
"But… the train." Max shot Victoria a pleading look.
"Yep. Sounds like it's on the way. If only I felt we really needed this shot."
Max rubbed at her face, caught off guard by a sudden realization. "Aww. Are you cereal?"
"If that's retro nerd girl talk for serious, then yes." Victoria paused, considering her words, then continued. "Also, never use that phrase again."
Max ignored Victoria's latter statement, refocusing on the threat. "But… that's blackmail."
"That tracks. Hmm. Look I can waste time with nonsensical puns as well."
"Oh, Dog. This isn't fair."
Victoria curled her fingers, studying her cuticles. "Huh. That's nice. Do you hear a train coming?"
Yes, yes, Max did hear a train coming.
"You know," she said. "Even when you're helping, you're evil."
"Time's a wasting Nerd Girl."
"Fine. Take the shot and we'll talk." Max straightened herself back into position, waiting for the train.
"Nope. No dice."
"What? But the train's coming."
"Hmm… that sounds like a you problem."
"Fine. Okay. I give." Max pivoted. "Before Chloe died, we reconnected, alright?"
"That's why you told Taylor she was your best friend?"
"She told you?"
"Of course she told me. She tells me everything. You're still not connecting the dots for me here." A whistle sounded in the distance, and Victoria tapped at her wrist. "Sounds like we're on the clock."
"Alright. We reconnected. We were childhood best friends and we met up again, and we became friends again, best friends"
"In a week?"
"It was… an eventful week. Okay? We went all over Arcadia Bay, but we came here. A lot. The junkyard, the train tracks… a couple other stops. She was looking for Rachel, and, well, we found out about Nathan. And Jefferson." Oh Dog. Max definitely didn't mean to reveal that much.
Victoria slipped, catching herself, one hand bracing against the rusted tracks. "You what?"
Fuck. Now Max had to lie or botch this whole thing.
"We didn't know for sure, okay? But we kind of spied on Frank. We connected some dots with the Vortex party and Kate's missing time. Her video. It tracked to a Prescott barn, but we just… we didn't have proof."
"So the bathroom? Meeting Nathan in the girl's room?"
Yeah, that works, Max thought. She was always better when she could lie without having to spin the tale herself. "Yeah," she said.
"Shit, Max. Why didn't you tell anyone?"
"Well, no point. We needed proof. You don't just accuse a Prescott, but… after Nathan confessed everything…"
"You didn't have to come forward. You didn't have to tell anyone about… about the Dark —"
"— Right," Max cut in. She had no desire to hear that place named. The train whistle grew louder, the cargo train coming into view around the bend ahead. "Can you take the shot, now?"
"Sure."
Thank, Dog. Max put on the noise-canceling headphones, closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the train had drawn considerably closer. She glanced back to find Victoria coming her way, pocketing a couple Polaroids.
Ripping off the headphones she hurried from the tracks, jumping to the side and collapsing against the hill as the train whistled past.
"Holy Hell. Promise me there are no more shots like that." Victoria steadied herself against the force of the passing train.
"I promise," Max said, catching her breath as the departing train's gale whipped at her hair and clothes. "No more death-defying shots."
"Thank, fuck."
Dana Ward: Answer your phone.
12/03/13-12:08 pm
Dana Ward: Or open your door.
12/03/13-12:09 pm
Dana Ward: Wait? Why is Kate locked in her room?
12/03/13-12:11 pm
Dana Ward: WTF You're with Victoria?
12/03/13-12:18 pm
Dana Ward: She fucking kidnapped you?
12/03/13-12:21 pm
Dana Ward: Ok. Kate admitted that part's a lie.
Which means you went of your own free will.
R U CRAZY?!
12/03/13-12:26 pm
Dana Ward: answer the phone!
12/03/13-12:28 pm
Dana Ward: Answer the phone!
12/03/13-12:29 pm
Dana Ward: ANSWER YOUR PHONE
12/03/13-12:32 pm
Dana Ward: (⋋⋌)
12/03/13-12:36 pm
Dana Ward: Glad you texted an all clear to Kate. Now text me.
12/03/13-12:39 pm
Dana Ward: I'm going to keep texting.
12/03/13-12:48 pm
Dana Ward: Until.
12/03/13-12:49 pm
Dana Ward: You.
12/03/13-12:49 pm
Dana Ward: Answer.
12/03/13-12:50 pm
Dana Ward: Me.
12/03/13-12:50 pm
Dana Ward: Starting third period science lab. Told Ms. Grant you're sick.
I better hear from you before class lets out.
12/03/13-12:57 pm
Max: Taking care of of my photog assignment. Needed Victoria's help.
12/03/13 - 1:13 pm
Max:All good. I promise.
12/03/13 - 1:14 pm
Max: Have to make one more stop. Be back by dinner.
11/29/13 - 1:16 pm
As she carefully drove down the long dirt road from American Rust, Victoria snuck a quick glance towards Max in her passenger seat. The girl had barely said two words since leaving the train tracks behind. Victoria couldn't really blame her. She had reverted to her usual forceful ways and although she had gotten what she wanted from the little hipster (most of a confession), she had probably used too much blunt force as usual. She could give the poor girl a moment to recuperate. For now, Max simply sat with her head leaned against the passenger window, idly tapping out a message on her phone.
"Finally answering Dana?" Okay, so she meant to give the hipster a moment, but best intentions and all that.
"Yeah," Max replied then returned to her silence. Over the next couple of minutes she tapped out, deleted, and retapped a couple more messages, before finally pocketing her phone.
"We good now?"
"With Dana," Max asked, her eyes focused now on the passing scenery off the dirt drive leading away from American Rust.
"Yeah."
"Meh. Don't know. She's in class still."
"Ah. Sure." Victoria kept her eyes forward, concentrating on the dirt road as it led up to Main Street. On one side of the intersection an old, beige van had pulled over to the side, just off from the path to American Rust. On the other side of the road, the afternoon sun glistened off the calm waters of the Bay, a small fleet of fishing boats dotting the horizon. Silence once more crept in, accentuating the awkward tension between the two girls.
"The pictures hold up," Victoria asked, ready to murder the uncomfortable silence of the drive.
"Huh?"
"I thought you would have given them a once over by now. Set them on the center console when I got in." Victoria eased the car out onto the main drive paralleling the bay.
"Um, yeah. No… I was distracted I guess." Max still hadn't lifted her gaze away from the window, watching the shifting landscape as they drove.
"You holding up? At the tracks…" Victoria hesitated, her throat constricting ever so slightly as she waded into traumatic waters. "…those were some, how should I put this?"
"Fucked up confessions," Max offered, at long last turning her attention inward on Victoria and the gulf between the two of them. Max shuffled the pictures from the console, listlessly thumbing through the assorted shots. "They're good," she mumbled. "The pictures I mean."
"Thanks. Not my first time." Victoria flashed an uneasy grin and ran a free hand through her pixie cut hair. "Back to the confessional…"
"You know," Max said — ignoring Victoria's subject change, much to her frustration — "looking through your Polaroids, it doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would."
"Your Polaroids. Just think of me as your camera. And, backtracking a second here, it hurts to look through photos now?"
"Not much," Max said, as if the matter of degree made it okay somehow. "And not all. These specifically, and not for the reason you think. Because of that week. My time with Chloe, not that… that other time."
"While you and she were playing Scooby Doo?"
Max turned away, her eyes scouring over the passing landscape once more; only Victoria suspected that it wasn't the scenery she was watching, so much as she was parsing over a panorama of memories.
"I liked to think of it as CSI: Arcadia Bay, myself," she said, apparently tearing herself away from the past long enough to respond.
"You can be Veronica Mars for all I care. The analogy doesn't matter. That week apparently does."
"Yeah… yeah, it does."
"And now we are recreating the highlights in hipster analog?"
"Not all of them. Can't really skip class to break into the pool. Wouldn't want to go to her hou — well, um, yeah just, we can't go everywhere."
Victoria could tell Max was hiding something; she wasn't exactly subtle. Still, she supposed Max was allowed a secret or two.
"Is this a guilt thing? That week led you to Nathan? To that bathroom? Now you have to revisit it? Relive it like some twisted kind of punishment? Cause I really don't want be your chauffeur for your downward spiral."
"I mean, yeah, I feel guilty. If not for me, she doesn't end up in that bathroom, but no, that's not what today is about."
Well, there's a revelation we'll have to unpack at some point, Victoria thought, breezing past it despite her better judgment. "Oh?"
"I think we were… I don't know. Falling in love?"
"You and Chloe Price?"
"Yeah. So... that's a thing. Is that a problem?"
"Oh, god No. More just taken aback. Didn't picture you having a thing for punks."
"You spend time imagining my type do you?"
"Bite me, selfie slut."
"I think I preferred Polaroid Princess."
"And this one," Victoria asked.
Max took in the scene before her: an empty bench on a cliffside overlook, the bay stretching out towards the horizon as the lighthouse loomed overhead on the right side of the "composition." How could she summarize everything encapsulated in this spot: the genesis of everything, the first vision, the scene of that final goodbye and that first real kiss, and so much more.
"A lot of meaning, I guess. This was one of the first spots where we really reconnected. The last place where we met… before that morning at Blackwell. The place where we admitted where… we were headed."
"Yeah, that sounds like a lot."
Max eased back into the preceding silence, her gaze shifting over the lapping waters below and the sporadic fishing boats scattered across the horizon. A cool wind blew in, riding up along the coast and over the bay, Max relaxing into its gentle caress. The sun shone overhead, warming her skin in that comforting contrast to the December chill, not a cloud in the sky. Yet, for Max, a different sky waited above. She closed her eyes, letting the wind transport her away, gliding along the breeze with the currents of time, until a different memory superimposed itself over the scene: a memory of a cyclonic monster, an otherworldly storm twisting and writhing in supernatural fury, churning up the violence of the sea as it swallowed up fishing vessels and the random flotsam and jetsam drifting over the surface.
That storm, The Storm, had faded in time, pushed down beneath weeks of repression and grief, of comfort and healing, of momentum and regression. Max had made Chloe a promise on this overlook, a vow to put things right, to return them to their natural order, even if it meant sacrificing her, and in so doing, to save the town and everyone in it. In making that vow, she had promised, even if wordlessly, never to use her powers lest she risk the return of that storm. For this, Chloe had given her life.
Yesterday, Max knew now, she had tapped into that power again. She didn't know how nor even what she had done, but she knew that for a moment she had been back in that Dark Room. Even now, thinking upon the end of the week, recalling the surging seas and the violence of the encroaching storm, she wondered if it were memories alone biting into her, or if that cold wind whipping against her exposed skin, and that sting of pelting rain, came true, a past solidified into the present, or a present slipped into the past. In that room, it had been as if the two times had merged, her existing and slipping between each simultaneously.
"Max," Victoria called, and she opened her eyes. No clouds remained, no rain fell, and no storm raged in that bay. Only a memory, today, she thought; but her certainty about the previous day did not falter. Yet there had been no reports of snow, and even if there had been, it wouldn't have been out of season. Still, did a new storm await on that horizon? Had she already broken her promise with Chloe?
"Max," Victoria called again, and this time Max pivoted, leaving the bay behind her and returned her attention to her… friend(?), rival(?); it was unclear the relationship now forming between the two.
"Sorry. As I said, a lot of meaning. I guess I got lost for a second."
"I noticed. You have a framing in mind?"
Max stepped back, taking in the entirety of the scene. "The lighting's off." It'd be better at dusk, in that golden hour; Max knew that, but she also couldn't ask that of Victoria. The sun wouldn't set for another three hours or so, and the girl had already given enough of her time. "But I think we can make do," she continued.
Following their now established pattern, Max demonstrated the composition she wanted, retreated into isolation beneath the sleep mask and headphones, and Victoria snapped the shot, along with some spares. Trained on digital cameras, she was not as accustomed to the restraint of using actual film as was Max.
That done, Max opted to take a seat on the bench, staring out over the city. Victoria took the space beside her, both settling once more into the silence, yet now it had become familiar; not the uncomfortable quiet of uncertainty, but something more familiar, more welcome. Max had shared much already that day, and Victoria seemed increasingly at peace with her tendency to sink inward. Thus, relaxed into the peace of the afternoon, Max focused not on the sea or the empty skies, but instead on the city of Arcadia Bay itself.
Looking down upon the sights from upon high – the sparkle of the sun off the distant diner, the dirt and age of the stray billboards, and the rustic charm of the docks cutting through the waterfront – Max couldn't help but to ponder what it was that she had saved. A layer of grime coated the city, a film of decay and rot. The seas had begun to die long before the storm had threatened its approach, and the boats along the distant horizon, though many, were far fewer than those that had roamed the waters in Max's childhood. Death had come to the fishing trade, the bounty of the waters dwindling, and with that changing tide, the fortunes of the town had dwindled.
The Prescotts propped up the city with their wealth, and with the new developments cutting through the previously pristine forests of the distant outcrop encircling the other side of the bay; yet those new builds did little to disguise the shuttered shops of Main Street, nor of the barren beaches, devoid of the tourists or even the day-trippers that once made their way down from Tillamook or Pleasant Valley. Perhaps they had shifted their attention to the larger distractions of Tillamook Bay, Cape Meares, and Bay City, or they had moved further down the coast towards Lincoln City and Beach. Whatever the fate, the waters and roads of Arcadia Bay were no longer what they had been. Max had bought the city time, sure; but was its death not still inevitable?
She didn't want you to save the city, Max. She sighed, realizing the truth of the invading thought. She wanted you to save the people in it. Which was true. Their livelihoods might be on the way out, but the people of Arcadia Bay would see the death of their town coming; they would have time to leave, to move on and start new lives; time she had given them by ending the one life about which she cared most.
"So," Victoria interrupted. "You think you have the shots you need?"
"Yeah," Max nodded, leaving her thoughts of the town and of Chloe behind. "There's one more spot I'd like to… capture (one more moment in time), but it's not necessary. Not for this."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, but… would you… I mean another day?"
"Sure, Max. I'll take you when you're ready."
"Thanks." Max pushed up from the bench. "I suppose we should get going then."
"I suppose." Victoria rose beside her, following along as Max led the way down the trail and towards the parking lot, where they had left Victoria's BMW behind.
As they descended from the overlook, Max pondered the course of the day. She had so many new shots, thanks to Victoria's help, definitely more than enough to satisfy Wells, and yet she couldn't help but to consider that none of them were really hers. She had framed them up, more or less. They used her camera and Victoria had tried her best to capture Max's eye and sensibilities, yet in the end, the shots were still Victoria's. They would buy her time, but would she ever be able to return to photography? Would she be able to explore that passion in the same way that she had before Nathan and Jefferson stole away her innocence (that moment innocence evolves into corruption. That shift from black to white to gray… and beyond).
About halfway down the path, Max tossed the question that was plaguing her over her shoulder towards Victoria trailing behind her.
"Do you think… I don't know… that one day I might actually… you know… be able to do this on my own, again?"
"I don't know," Victoria said. The girl never gave false hope, and Max realized that she actually liked that about her. "Maybe. I'd like to think you will. Right now, though, all I can do is help buy you time."
"Yeah," Max nodded. "That makes sense."
Once more quiet fell over the pair, until at last they broke through the trees into a small asphalt clearing just off from the beach. Victoria's BMW waited, parked just off from the trail head. The car beeped as Victoria unlocked it with her keyfob, but she hesitated before entering, pausing and looking out over the distant water.
"Max?" Victoria called the girls' name in a questioning tone, and Max walked around the car, joining her in leaning against the driverside.
"Yes," she asked, rummaging through her bag and pulling out a cigarette. "You mind?"
Victoria glanced over at the cigarette in Max's hand, scowled a little, then shrugged. "Can't say I approve, but I understand. For now."
"For now?"
"Your days are limited," she said, snatching the cigarette away and lighting it for herself.
"Hey! I thought you said you didn't mind."
Victoria scowled at her, again. "I don't. This one's mine. Get your own."
Max shook her head. She'd never fully understand Victoria, but she also realized she didn't have to. They had reached a truce, maybe something more, and Max could make do with that. She rummaged once more in her bag, pulling out a second cigarette. Cupping her hand against the wind, she lit it, then settled back against Victoria's BMW with a long satisfied exhalation of smoke.
"You were saying," Max asked.
"That other place?"
"Just a place Chloe and I used to go. As kids. Nothing from that week, really."
"Not that place. The Other Place."
Max took another puff from her cigarette and kicked at a pebble at her feet. "Oh."
"Yeah," Victoria agreed.
"I guess you've earned that."
"Maybe." Victoria blew out a smoke ring, and both girls paused watching the wisp of smoke twirl off along the breeze. "Maybe not. That's really your secret to divulge, Max."
"No. You've earned it."
"Whatever you say."
Max kicked at a second pebble, sending it skittering towards the edge of the wood. "What do you want to know?"
"What you're willing to tell, I guess." Victoria cast her a warm look, perhaps the softest look Max had ever seen on the Vortex queen. "When, I guess."
Oh, Dog. That's a hell of a question.
"It's foggy, if that makes sense." Max would have to think on her feet. No rewinds here. "That week. The week Chloe and I reconnected. We were in the junkyard. Isolated you know."
"We?"
Crap. Now you have to work Chloe out of this without a bullet to her head.
"Yeah, Chloe and I. There in that shack. You know, where we started, today."
"Okay."
"Well, she was there. I'd stepped out. Wanted to get some shots, I guess. It was near, well where they'd later find Rachel." Always best to steer close to the truth. "I don't know, maybe he was returning to the scene. That's something psychopaths do, right?"
"I've heard something to that effect before."
"Whatever the reason, I didn't hear him coming. One second I was right there, looking over that grave – I didn't know it was a grave yet of course, but I had seen a deer there, and I had wanted the shot."
Always take the shot.
"Anyway," Max continued, "I guess I had hoped the deer would be back. I know, stupid right. Instead I feel this jab in my neck." Instinctively Max reaches to her neck, itching where the needle had punctured skin – only it never had; not this skin – and how did that work? Turning back time? Jumping into previous bodies? Alternate bodies? Other Max's bodies?
"Well, next thing I know… I'm… I'm… I'm…" Max skipped, a broken record on an infinite loop. A gentle pressure eased onto her shoulder, and she looked over to find Victoria's hand resting there. She looked up towards the taller girl. She wasn't crying, but she could see the water pooling there in those glassy eyes.
"It's okay, Max. You don't know have to. I think I get the picture."
"Thanks." Max let herself relax then, gently knocking her shoulder into Victoria's as she slid into the girl, the two taking comfort there in the empty parking lot, the salt of the sea breeze filling the afternoon air, and the gentle caw of the gulls piercing through the wind.
Max barely even noticed the beige van parked on the far end of the lot. She definitely didn't register that she had seen it once already that afternoon.
All that mattered in that moment was the reassuring embrace of her former rival as Victoria stretched out an arm, wrapping it around Max's shoulder and pulling the girl in close for an awkward, yet surprisingly comforting, side hug. Max rested her head against Victoria's shoulder then, and Victoria rested her own head against Max's.
"You ready to go back," the taller girl asked.
"In a moment," Max replied, but she made no move to go. She simply basked in the comfort of the embrace. To her credit, Victoria made no attempt to rush her, settling herself into that same embrace. As the sun continued its slow descent, the two huddled together, watching the waves and listening to the gulls, and hoping for better times ahead.
