"There has been a shooting. I am requesting an ambulance–yes. David Madsen. The Prescott barn just north of Arcadia Bay. Yes. Uh huh. Okay."

It had been a long morning.

After Chloe and Max left with Rachel, David wasted no time and proceeded to call the police. He never checked Jefferson's pulse, and didn't want to, just in case the later investigation team would somehow trace the cause of death back to David. Technically, it was Max who shot him, but even then, it wasn't cold-blooded murder. It was self defense. And he would stand by the girl, defending her, if that was what needed to happen. The death was rightfully done, but there was always a reason to be hesitant.

The police in Arcadia Bay were arguably owned and run by the Prescotts, making it useless to fight any case that involved them. The law would always try to find a way for the Prescott family to come out ahead. It left everyone else in the dust. David knew this, because he had watched it happen before. The law was notoriously biased against anyone who didn't have a lot of money, making any legal battle more than a headache.

David Madsen had assumed Mark Jefferson was dead anyways, since he was still bleeding out on the floor and didn't move the whole time he stood there.

The police showed up rather quickly, alongside an ambulance. As they stormed in, David proceeded to raise his arms as the police made their way into the darkroom, surrendering. "I'd like to call my lawyer."

And that was the last thing he said.

The police went over and handcuffed David, trying to secure the area, and took him to one of the police cars located outside the barn. The paramedics then placed Mark Jefferson on a stretcher and brought him to the ambulance. There was no further indication that he was alive, but no one would ever find out anyways. It didn't matter, though. Dead or alive, he would never be able to do something like this again, since David–and Max– stopped him in his tracks.

While half of the police officers stayed in the darkroom, investigating the area and collecting evidence for a later court case, the other half drove David Madsen to the police station, where he would be interviewed. It was going to be a very long day for everyone involved.


The drive from the hospital to Chloe's house was rather short, but at the same time, oddly calm. It reminded Max of being in Chloe's truck on that cool fall day, talking with the windows down, after the confrontation with Nathan Prescott in the Blackwell parking lot. It was ironic how the two times when they were in a car together after briefly meeting, they were both headed to the same location: Chloe's house. It was almost like it was meant to be. Every event that had happened to Max within the past 48-hours was uncanny. The similarities to the other timeline were wild.

They had spent nearly three hours at the hospital that morning, but it was cut short due to Chloe getting kicked out. Max had been outside, letting her friend do what she felt like she needed to do, backing off from the conflict. It was a rather odd situation, although not surprising. Chloe didn't mention anything about what had happened the entire car ride home, and Max was starting to get curious. She knew her friend could be easily provoked, but seeing her get dragged out by two security guards was…definitely not unusual for Chloe Price. Who was she kidding, Max just wanted to be nosey.

Max was looking out the window, watching the houses slowly roll by. There was a stillness inside the car that was starting to become uncomfortable. She couldn't stop the feeling of wanting to pry into Chloe's life, it was her thing. She just didn't know how to bring up the subject. "So what was that all about?"

Chloe, lazily leaning back in the driver's seat, barely holding onto the steering wheel, was too busy driving to answer. She looked like she was trying to ignore Max.

Though, Max was getting impatient.

"Chloe. What did you do."

The sound of a blinker, followed by a sharp turn left. Chloe doesn't follow the rules of the road–Why is she using a turn signal? She was acting more standoffish than usual this morning.

Chloe didn't want to show it, but Max's change of tone made her uneasy. She tried to play it off by focusing all of her attention on driving David's car, even though they were mere blocks from her house. "Where? At the hospital?"

"Yeah." Max was basically staring at Chloe by this point. The punk never took her eyes off the road, forcing every instinct to have a normal conversation with her friend to the side.

Chloe started to laugh, though still wasn't taking any of it seriously. "I went right up to Rachel's door and some big wig doctor called security on me." She made a gesture with her hands, waving them about, almost trying to convince Max that she wasn't the one to blame.

They both were silent for a moment as they were driving. The remainder of the ride was fairly peaceful. It wasn't supposed to be a heated conversation, Max was just curious. She didn't know why Chloe had become so…combative… since they had left the hospital, though.

Chloe continued, forcing Max out of her thoughts. "I pushed the guy, then security showed up and forced me to leave. I didn't even get to go inside." Chloe, for the first time the entire car ride, looked over at Max. Her face was washed over with worry, one that she was clearly trying to conceal from her friend. "It was hella weird, Max. I've never seen that many doctors in my life."

There was a deep pothole in the road, making the car bounce in the air. Max tightened the seatbelt a little more, only to notice how dirty her clothes were. She didn't even think about how disheveled they must have appeared at the hospital. Damn.

Though, now noticing that Chloe was responding to her, she couldn't resist asking more. "Was there a window? Like to look in the room?"

"Yeah. In the hallway." Chloe looked back at Max, visibly thinking, "Rachel was like…tied to the bed…had all these tubes connected to her. The girl looked like a robot, or something."

That visualization frightened Max. She couldn't even imagine what a sight that must have been. Max didn't have much medical knowledge, but knew about as much as she had been told. Being in the ICU, combined with a coma and specialized doctors meant that whatever was going on was more severe than she had thought. "She must have been put on a ventilator. That's…really intense, Chloe." What a crazy day.

"It is. I guess I didn't realize how drugged up she was." Chloe just shook her head, lightly tapping the steering wheel as her other hand was still resting on her head. Her house was just at the end of the street.

"Well, I mean, remember her in the darkroom?" Max hated thinking about it. It was such a horrible memory that had happened only hours ago. Rachel was on the ground, pleading for help, while everyone else was too concerned with stopping Mr. Jefferson. "She was having seizures on the ground, it was scary as hell."

Max's words cut into Chloe, digging into every fear and insecurity she had this week. She was horribly exhausted from the day and didn't want to repeat any of it at the moment. She was done. "I know Max, but I don't want to talk about it right now." She harshly pulled into the driveway, giving Max a bit of whiplash. Without wasting any time, Chloe began to step out of the car, slamming the door while talking, "I think we both need a break from everything that's happened today."

They both made their way to the front door and walked inside the house, with Chloe leading the way. She rushed into the kitchen, opening up the fridge to grab what looked like several beers and made her way up into her room, forcefully shutting the door. She didn't even notice–or care to notice–her friend standing still in the front doorway, waiting.

Max was unsure of what to do. Everything today was confusing, but she couldn't figure out why Chloe was so irrationally upset since leaving the hospital. She hoped she didn't see anything bad, for her own sake, but it was probably too late. Max slowly made her way up the steps, walking to the closed white door. It was locked, but she still tried to talk. "Chloe?"

"I just want to be alone, Max. Please." Her voice was muffled, making it hard to hear, but Max knew there was more going on in her friend's head. She wouldn't be able to find out, though, especially not now.

Max stood behind the locked door, upset. She was so tired of all the drama lately. All the fighting, the arguments, the miscommunication. She knew it would be a challenge coming back to a time period where there were a lot of heavy things happening, but she didn't realize it would be like this. She needed to mend her friendship with Chloe, and it would take more time than she had initially thought.

Max decided that waiting for her friend to not be upset would take longer than she wanted to wait, so she slowly walked back downstairs. The stairs creaked underneath her feet. The house was empty, and if it wasn't for Chloe upstairs, she could have sworn it had been abandoned. It was just so quiet. Max walked into the living room and turned on the tv, hoping it would provide some background noise to the uncomfortable silence in the house. She didn't want to listen to her loud thoughts telling her that every choice she had made thus far was wrong. She couldn't do it.

Sitting down on the couch, Max pulled out her phone from the back pocket of her jeans, still in the same place she hid it in the darkroom earlier, and started to read all of the messages she had received over the week. Most of them were from her parents, still confused and filled with worry about her spontaneous decision, and Max was getting annoyed. She had absolutely no idea how to even approach them with the topic of time travel, let alone the larger fact that she didn't want to go back to Seattle, especially not now.

And that was the problem.

Max didn't know what to do, since her plans to be the hero everyone needed had already been accomplished. Now what? She could go back to Seattle and live a normal life. She could also make an irrational decision to stay with Chloe, but that would be almost too impulsive. She felt like she had to pick up all the pieces from everyone's mistakes and it was, in the very least, overwhelming. Could she really trust Chloe, or hell, even Rachel, to suddenly change their lives and never get into trouble again? Was that even Max's place to keep 'saving' them? Maybe their lives were out of Max's control, and that meant that anything at any time could happen to them. She would either have to live with that, or keep using her superpowers to make things right, only proving to everyone else that she had some kind of savior complex.

And worst of it all, Max had shot Mark Jefferson in the back, killing him that morning. It was still the same day.

She killed someone and while it was in the plan for David to do it, he didn't even get close. Max Caulfield was a murderer. She knew it couldn't be true. She couldn't have truly killed a man. No way. Though, while she could see that it was clearly self-defense, it was Mark Jefferson who should be labeled a murderer. Before Rachel, he had several girls he had taken advantage of and killed, all marked in red binders. So now, Max not only had to figure out what she wanted to do going forward, alongside her crazy time traveling abilities, but also had to deal with whatever repercussions the death of Mr. Jefferson would bring. She had no one to talk to. No one who would really understand.

After a day like today, she just wanted everyone to leave her alone. Maybe she did know what Chloe was going through afterall.

Max rested on the couch, watching mindless television for nearly two hours, taking up the majority of the afternoon. Everything from tacky home renovations, to a local cooking competition, to Judge Judy. It was the break she desperately needed. Chloe never left her room, or made any sound the entire time. Max didn't even care. Although, if she had to watch the same commercial about how the fisherman in Arcadia Bay needed funding to 'Save the Bay' again, she was going to throw the remote at the screen. Ok, we get it. The Prescotts suck. Everyone knows that.

She turned off the TV and stood up, walking around the living room. The bookshelf that was underneath the stairs was calling to her, wanting to be explored. She grabbed a photo album labeled '2006' and started flipping through it. So many memories of her and Chloe when they were younger. With William. Everyone seemed so happy.

Max was too engrossed in the nostalgia to hear Joyce coming home. She walked through the front door, placing her purse on the ground. The sound of keys rattling and shoes being kicked off, hitting the wall. She began to walk into the living room, but almost had a heart attack when she nearly ran into Max.

"Max? What are you doing here?" Joyce was incredibly startled, and had Max in her grip, holding onto her arms.

Max laughed, not realizing that it was probably a surprise to her that she was there. She didn't even think to call her and tell her the good news about finding Chloe. Max pointed upstairs, while still holding onto the opened photobook, "I found Chloe. She's in her room."

Joyce still hadn't let Max go, trying to get her bearings before stepping back. After a long day working at the diner, she was more than overwhelmed to see Max again and to hear that her daughter was home. "Oh my–she's alright, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she's fine." Max just smiled, wanting to preserve any of the finer details of the week's adventures for the worried mother. "She just wanted to be alone, I guess."

Joyce nodded, almost in a knowing way, and made her way into the kitchen, where Max followed her. "That's not surprising at all. I heard from David earlier about…everything that had happened this morning." Max's stomach sank into the ground, as she watched the woman begin to wash her hands at the sink. How much did Joyce know?

Max was still leaning in the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed, watching Joyce. "You did? How much did he tell you?"

"Not much," She dried her hands on a rag laying nearby, and turned around, leaning back against the countertop. "He just told me he had called the police…you were able to stop that photography teacher…and that…Rachel was there. Max, I'm really sorry. I wish I could have been more helpful."

"No way, you are not going to blame yourself for all of that." Max walked into the kitchen more, not wanting to hear Chloe's mom beat herself up over something she just couldn't be involved in. "Joyce, you had to be at the diner, I can't be mad at you for that! And plus, we already talked about it, everything has been taken care of."

The two chatted for a bit at the kitchen counter, as Joyce prepared some food for the girl. She was making her famous pancakes, something Max used to love when she stayed over here when she was little. She made a plate for Chloe, not even sure she'd want it or come downstairs to grab it.

They then made their way to the table as Joyce sat the plate down in front of Max, pulling out a chair and sitting across from the girl. "So is Rachel still in the hospital? David mentioned something about you and Chloe taking her to one."

"Yeah," Max shoved a bite in her mouth, looking like she hadn't eaten in days, "It was really crazy, Joyce. She was rushed into Intensive Care for an overdose." Was this considered gossip? Max felt like she was saying too much.

Joyce seemed shocked, though was always a bit hesitant about the girl. She watched Chloe and Rachel get into all sorts of trouble over the years, but an overdose? She couldn't believe it. "Oh my, that poor girl. I just know Chloe isn't taking it well."

"Rachel seems to be ok, though…I don't know…the doctors said she was put in a coma." Just as she finished speaking, loud footsteps were heard coming down the stairs, walking into the living room where Max and Joyce were seated.

"Heard you two were talking about some pretty serious stuff down here–"

Max was in the middle of chewing, mouth full, when she saw her friend walk into the room. "Chloe?"

She looked better, maybe more calm from earlier in the day. It was pretty clear she was getting high in her room all afternoon while Max was downstairs, since everything started to smell like it when Chloe entered the living room.

Joyce looked at Max, then her daughter, "It's rude, you know, to overhear other people's conversations." She gestured at the extra plate of food she had made, making Chloe sit down and start eating without any hesitation. The girl was definitely stoned.

The two finished eating without saying a single word, as Joyce decided to read the newspaper lying nearby. It was just like old times. On the back of the newspaper, there was an old picture of Sean Prescott cutting some ribbon in front of the hospital. It looked to be months old, but Max couldn't tell. It did remind her of something, though, "Don't you think it's kind of weird that we haven't heard from the hospital yet? It's been all day." She wasn't talking to anyone in particular, almost just thinking out loud.

Chloe shrugged, leaning back in the chair so far she could almost fall over. "Maybe Rachel's parents showed up, so the doctors let them deal with it."

Max lightly tapped her hands on the table, trying to come up with something to say, but couldn't. The truth was, she knew nothing about Rachel Amber or her family. She had only seen her in missing posters and heard through conversations before. They had met briefly at the lighthouse, but everyone was so drugged up that she wasn't even sure she could count it as an interaction. All of this was so new, Max was always a bit hesitant to bring it up. "I guess."

Just as the sun began to set over the horizon, bringing out the bright stars and distant chatter of crickets outside, David Madsen showed up at the house. Outside was a police car parked beside the curb, waiting a bit more time than usual for David to get inside. Seeing the cop car made Max assume that he had to catch a ride here, since her and Chloe had taken his vehicle earlier that morning. It was still odd that David took all day to get back home.

As he walked in the front door, visibility tired, Joyce greeted him, though steadily growing concerned. "David! Honey, where have you been?"

"At the police station." He took off his shoes. "Trying to get…everything sorted out."

Shit. Hearing that David was brought to the police station made Max worry. She knew he had called 911 after they all rushed to the hospital, but everything else seemed a little extreme. "They took you to the station? Why?"

"Well Max," He sighed, "usually when someone's been shot and you call the police, they need to secure the area and figure out who the criminal is. So they took me to the police station and we talked. Now they know the situation." He shrugged, still unpacking everything he had brought with him, laying it on the nearby table next to the door.

Max was still worried, not letting up. "Is anyone in trouble? Is Nathan getting arrested?" Where did Nathan even go when he left the darkroom? God, she had so many questions.

"I have no idea. They don't usually tell you that kind of stuff…at least not yet." He hung his coat on the coat hanger by the door, noticing Chloe standing behind everyone at the foot of the stairs. She was keeping her distance, but wanted to hear the conversation. Her face was still visibly bruised from earlier, and David took notice.

"Chloe, how's your…face…doing?" David was becoming awkward, Max noticed, and she could feel the tension growing in the small space they were all standing in. The guy wasn't very likable, Max would have to be on her friend's side for that, but he was the one thing that helped them all escape the darkroom. Despite that, things were not about to get nice.

Chloe's arms were crossed, still standing several steps from the bottom floor. "Like you even care." She rolled her eyes, not caring about any word that came out of her stepdad's mouth. "And what was with you in the darkroom? Trying to be the hero and shit."

Max just stood back and watched the whole thing. Chloe had no idea about Max's secret meeting with David and Joyce at the beginning of the week, so everything looked incredibly suspicious to her. It wasn't her fault, it did look bad, especially since Max knew about her friend's growing hatred of David. She still couldn't say anything.

"Chloe!" Joyce was getting frustrated. "Look, we all had a long day today, can't we just hold off on fighting until tomorrow?" She looked at her daughter, visibly upset.

"I don't know mom, why'd you marry such a–"

Joyce shot Chloe a look, almost daring her to say what was on her mind. "Such a what, Chloe?"

"Forget it. It's not worth arguing with Sergeant Douche over here," Chloe pointed to David, who in turn glared at her, "He thinks he's always at war. Newsflash, we almost all died today!" She waved her hands and quickly turned around, nearly running up the stairs to go back into her room. Max still didn't say a word, hoping she wouldn't add to the drama.

David was furious, and almost forgot that anyone else was in the room. "I'm sick of your disrespect! Get back down here Chloe, that's an order!"

The door upstairs slammed shut, shaking some of the pictures hung on the wall. David, without wasting a moment, stormed up to Chloe's room, ready for answers to her bad behavior.

"Why do I even try…" Joyce walked into the other room, as Max continued to hang back by the front door, listening to the conversation happening upstairs.

"I'm coming up, we need to talk!" David made his way up the stairs, following Chloe in hot pursuit, knocking on her door. Max was now hanging onto the railing, slowly creeping her way upstairs. This entire situation was looking oddly familiar.

"Chloe, what's going on? Open this door, please."

He knocked again, this time more in a hurry.

"Chloe…"

Chloe yelled through the door, with her voice only seeming more and more frustrated. "Hold on!"

Either she was hiding something, or just taking her sweet time to open the door. Max wasn't sure what she was doing, but it was strange.

David then opened the door, tired of waiting for Chloe and whatever she was doing, and walked in her room, "What's going on in here?"

Chloe stood back and slowly walked to her bed to sit down. "Jesus, I just wanted to be alone. You're so friggin' paranoid."

Nobody noticed, but Max was gradually making her way up the stairs, trying to watch what was happening.

"Yeah, combat will do that to you." He walked around her room, sniffing around like a hound dog. "Have you been toking up in here again?"

Max had to grab onto the top of the railing to stop her from falling back. She could've sworn her nose was starting to bleed. No way. No fucking way. This was nearly the exact same conversation David had with Chloe about weed, back in October. Sure, it was a little different, but why now?

"Yeah, so what?" Chloe watched as David continued to search around her room, until he paused in his tracks, seeing a half-smoked joint laying in the ashtray. He picked it up, waving it around in the air.

"I will not allow drug use in this household, especially after today. Chloe, you're a loser doing all this. This is unacceptable."

Max was leaning in the doorway at this point, though still, no one saw her. Despite that, she decided to step in, tired of the mistreatment towards her friend. When she had previously interfered, Chloe couldn't thank her enough. But now that David knew Max's whole story, she worried it might have a larger effect on the situation than she had planned. "David, she's not doing anything bad!" She began to walk into the room, now with the full attention on her. "And what's wrong with a little weed?"

"You too, Max?" David was now quickly understanding that she was listening in on the conversation. "If I would've known you were assisting Chloe with her drug abuse, I wouldn't have taken you so seriously."

"Max, what the hell is he talking about?" Chloe stood up from her bed, even more confused.

Without having time to explain, David interrupted Max's thought. "And what's with all these beer bottles?" He started peering around Chloe's bed, noticing the rather large pile of empty bottles Max had seen earlier. "Chloe, have you been stealing my beer from the fridge? Is that where it's been going?"

It was obvious she had been. They were everywhere. Max was honestly surprised it took David this long to notice.

"Oh yeah, drugs, alcohol…you are trippin' balls." Chloe still wanted to fight, not letting go of interrogating David. She tried to stand in his way, almost blocking his view of finding anything else.

He stopped, looking her dead in the eyes. "Tell me the truth, Chloe, that's an order!"

"What? About the beer?" Chloe looked around, noticing the growing piles, "It's been like this for months…I just haven't cleaned my room…" It was a lie, and everyone knew it.

David ignored her response, knowing that he would probably have to deal with it later, and turned to Max who was standing back, not wanting to get too involved. "Max, I trusted you. Were you seriously bringing drugs into my house this whole time?"

Max couldn't handle it anymore. If one more person asked her, or made any suggestion about her and her past, she was going to scream. She was in an internal war with herself all week, trying to find the right moments in between the chaos to tell everyone. But there was never a good time. She was starting to believe there wasn't ever going to be a good time. "No! It's just–I–fuck!" She stormed off across Chloe's room, hands twisted in her hair. She felt trapped.

David was immensely annoyed from this entire conversation, realizing that it wasn't worth his time at the moment. He didn't realize he would be in the middle of a fight between two overly emotional teenage girls today. At least he knew where all his beer went. Without warning, he left the room and shut the door, leaving the two girls alone to pick up the remaining pieces of the conversation.

Max was in the corner, by the window, furious. She was acting crazy, and Chloe had never seen her friend this upset. "Fuck Max…what's wrong?"

"God, I wish…I wish I could…" Max was nearly bent over in pain, agonizing over holding back so many secrets about her life. Everytime she had the opportunity to say something, it became so excruciating that she was doubled over in distress.

"Max, you're seriously freaking me out." Chloe rushed over to Max, trying to figure out what was going on with her friend. It was concerning seeing her snap just like that, without warning. "What's going on with you?"

Max was still looking down, hands wrapped around her head. The thoughts in her mind were trying to claw their way out, forcing her to tighten her grip ever harder. She took a deep breath before unleashing her pent up anger. "I can't, okay! I just…there are things I wish I could tell you, but I can't!"

Chloe just looked at Max. "This isn't about the weed is it? I–"

"No! It's not about the weed! It's not about David, it's not about any of it."

In an effort to control her friend, Chloe held Max back with her arms, trying to steady her. "So what's going on with you? You've been acting hella strange since you got here."

"You don't understand. There's a life…I…I don't know how to explain it to you!" Max broke loose of Chloe's grip and ran off, slamming the door shut. Chloe stood back, left behind. She had no idea what was going on with her friend, but had suspected something brewing the entire day.

Despite everything, Max had to get out of there. She couldn't stay in Chloe's presence any longer or she was going to say something she would regret. She couldn't tell her. She couldn't fucking do it. She ran out the back door, not noticing or caring if anyone saw, and went to go sit on the back swing set. It was nearly pitch black outside, aside from a few street lamps from the nearby road. The swing was creaky, and every swinging motion made a painful screech. Max was so mad, so upset that no one would just let her be. Not question her all the time. She dug her feet deep into the dirt beneath her, trying to catch her breath.

Back inside, Chloe looked out her window trying to see where the girl went, but only seemed to get more worried when the house had gone completely still since Max left. She felt guilty, but didn't know why. Chloe paced around her room, trying to figure what to do. She just couldn't understand how David triggered such an outburst in Max. If anything, Chloe should have been upset, not Max. None of it made any sense.

Chloe was still walking around, thinking. A light, probably from one in her room, began to reflect off the little metal box shoved half way underneath her bed, providing a harsh glare, which caught Chloe's eyes. She crouched down, opening the latches. It was the box she had kept all of her and Rachel's keepsakes in. A postcard, a loose feather, a CD. There. She grabbed the folded over picture, one taken maybe a year or two ago. She stopped to look at it, not understanding the emotions she was feeling. It was weird.

Everything that had happened over the past three years was intense. Chaotic. Confusing. It was funny how a single picture could bring up so many memories. While Chloe didn't want to admit it, she was immensely worried about Rachel this entire time. Not just because she was in the hospital, but before that. For months. Rachel would rarely answer any of Chloe's attempts to communicate, only getting worse in the past few months. She was almost convinced that Rachel hated her and had moved on. Chloe had thought about it all day, trying to come up with some conclusion as to why Rachel was even in the lighthouse to begin with, but was left with nothing. The only thing she could think of was something that made her sick to her stomach: that maybe Rachel was at some vortex club party, got drunk, and landed knee deep in shit she couldn't talk herself out of. It was devastating, because she had done it before. Multiple times.

Rachel was on a steep decline, choosing destruction over stability. It was so painful for Chloe to watch over the years. The perfect, popular girl at Blackwell was secretly damaged this whole time. Maybe she wasn't so perfect after all.

Though, that wasn't to say that it was all bad. And even more recently, there was a clear silver lining starting to form, all because of Max showing up. It was bizarre, and oddly coincidental.

She hoped it wouldn't be too strange, but for some reason wanted to show Max the picture. It couldn't hurt her any more than she already was, she thought. Chloe stuck it in her pocket then headed downstairs to look for the girl, ready to have her own conversation that she felt like needed to be had.

"...Max?"

Chloe carefully slid the back door open, after searching nearly the entire house beforehand, making her way into the backyard. She could hear Max in the distance, rocking back and forth on the squeaky metal swing set. It was a little hard to see anything since it was pretty late in the night, but she walked over and sat down on the grass next to her. "You okay?"

Max didn't answer right away, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. Chloe didn't blame her. It was a rough day for everyone.

"I don't know." Max spoke, cutting through the quietness of the night. She sounded hurt. Frustrated.

The stars were out in full effect, glowing throughout the entire sky. Chloe looked up, almost recounting a past memory. The distant crickets were a comfort of the darkness, showing that whoever dared to be outside wasn't as alone as they had thought.

"I wasn't lying…earlier…yesterday…" Chloe couldn't find the right words, "...I am happy you're here. I'm sorry I bailed on you this afternoon. I just…needed space to think."

"It's ok. Really." Max tried to brush it aside, knowing that there was still more to say. Not yet.

The swing made a harsh squeak, making Max stop. She firmly gripped the metal chains, looking up at the sky like her friend did. Maybe things weren't so bad afterall.

"No Max, it's not ok. You don't have to know everything all the time. You need a break." Chloe took off her beanie, running her hands through her hair, "I don't know what's going on lately…between you…and Rachel…and that psycho photographer…" She looked over at Max, who was still engrossed with the beauty of the galaxy, "but I just feel like everything that's happened this week, was meant to happen. If that…makes any sense."

She began to dig in her pocket, fishing out the photo she had wanted to show Max. "I wanted to show you this, because if it wasn't for you, Max, Rachel would have died today. You saved her. You saved us." Chloe handed Max the picture, which made her stomach drop. It was the same one she had seen before, but unlike that time, Chloe was now readily sharing her past with Rachel to her. "Like I said, I think it was all meant to happen."

Looking at the picture was horrifying. Mystifying. Strange. It wasn't because Max was jealous, or even that she hated Rachel. It was just that everything seemed to point to the past timeline, and she was not prepared to deal with any of it. It was why she stormed off angry.

Chloe continued, while watching Max study the picture with such an intensity, "She was my angel. She…still is. I don't know," She grabbed it from Max's hands, beginning to stuff it back into her pocket, feeling slightly awkward. "Maybe this was weird. Sorry."

"It's not weird. There was no reason for anything good to happen this morning, and look what happened? We all escaped, Rachel's going to live, and Mr. Jefferson is dead." She paused, looking back at Chloe. "If this is what fate means…then I don't want to believe anything else."

There was a moment of silence, as both were thinking about what they had each said. The silence was calming this time. Not filled with hostility or awkwardness.

"A hipster and a poet?" Chloe said out of nowhere, "You surprise me everyday, Supermax."

Max smiled. "I try."

While the two sat near each other in the dark, Max couldn't stop ruminating on her outburst at Chloe. It was harsh, and not something she had planned to do. She just felt so horrible. So horrible that she couldn't yet tell Chloe about her powers or what she had seen in the other timeline. It was eating at her terribly, and everyday that went by made it more excruciating. There were so many moments now for her to bring it up, but every time, she hesitated. The more she thought about it, the more she couldn't stop thinking about it. It was getting to the point where it would start to impact her well-being. Max was going to say something tonight that probably wouldn't make sense to her friend, but it was at least something to get the ball rolling. She couldn't take another day of it.

Max hadn't moved much on the swing, as she was mostly just looking out into the sky. She figured it was now or never, and slowly forced the words out of her mouth. "Chloe…"

"Hm?"

"I…I think I'm ready to tell you…about why I got so upset." Max stopped to think, planning what she was going to say. It was all so new, she didn't know how to approach it. Chloe was looking at her, intrigued, but was giving her space.

Max continued, "There was a life I had before coming here. One where it was filled with new opportunities. A fresh start."

Starting at Blackwell for her senior year. Max was so excited to go to a school with an insanely good photography program, hoping it would give her a chance at doing it as a career.

"But everything took a turn for the worse."

The bathroom. Nathan. Chloe. Dead.

"I tried to fix things, over and over again, hoping to make everything better, but I ended up making the worst decision of my life."

Max tried to save the whole town, but ended up killing the one person she truly cared about in the process.

Everything Max said was a metaphor. An innuendo to a past not forgotten.

Chloe was intently listening, not saying a word nor judging the girl. "So that's why you're here." Chloe stated simply. Max nodded.

"Yes. I'm here because I made a huge mistake, and I couldn't handle the pain it caused, so I came here to make things right again." Max was shaking. She hoped Chloe couldn't tell through the darkness, but it was pretty obvious. If she couldn't see it, then the chains rattling would clue her in. She couldn't help it, though. Max just told her everything she had gone through, without saying anything at all. No details meant no further questioning, she hoped.

"Max, I have no idea what anything you just said means, but…it seems like you went through hell to get here. I'm…really sorry you went through all of that." Chloe looked up at Max from the grass, trying to watch her. Read her emotions. "If you ever…you know…want to explain this life you had more…just know I'm here, okay? Whenever you're ready."

"I know, Chloe. I will." She looked down at her friend, "It's just…I want to say more but—"

"No." Chloe interrupted, shaking her head. "Wait until you're ready. There's no rush…unless there is…then don't listen to me."

Max smiled, looking around the backyard, thinking. There really was no rush…but then again, there was if she ever decided to talk to her parents again. "There's no rush. No rush at all."

"Although…speaking of not being ready…I need to get my truck back from the lighthouse." Chloe paused, "But I just can't bring myself to do it."

"So don't. I mean, I don't want to go back there for a while…so I can't imagine you would. I doubt anything would happen to it anyway."

Chloe laughed, knowing that her friend was right, "Are you saying no one wants to steal my rusted out, piece of shit truck? Ouch, Max."

"Hey, you said it. Not me." Max smiled, though while no one could see it, Chloe could tell.

This moment could really last forever. And for Chloe, she honestly didn't want it to end. It still felt so similar to when she was in Rachel's room years ago, after she learned the truth about her birth mom and those starry lights. This time was different, though, and Chloe had more history with Max. She did know her a bit better.

Max pulled out her phone to check the time, only realizing that it was almost midnight. She had been up for nearly twenty two hours by that point and she was exhausted. She yawned, "I think I'm gonna call it a night, see you in the morning, Chloe." Max began to stand up from the swing, stretching.

Chloe looked around, confused, "Are you staying here?" Max either wasn't paying attention, or was too tired to hear her. "Max?" Chloe asked again, "Hey, how long were you even planning on staying here?"

Max turned around, really not wanting to have any more emotionally taxing conversations. "How long did you want me to stay?"

"Max, I think you know the answer to that…" Chloe was now standing up, walking towards Max. Her arms were crossed, not being able to judge what her friend would say.

"Right." She lightly laughed, kicking her feet into the grass, making a small hole in the ground, "Honestly? I don't know. If I had the choice, I would stay here forever. But I don't even know how to tell that to my parents."

"Well how long did you tell them you were staying?"

"I didn't." Max just shrugged. "They just assumed a few days, I guess."

Chloe looked at Max, eyes wide. "What? Max, you haven't told them anything? I thought you had to get back for school?"

"...I do." Max paused, "But I'm not going to."

"Why? Are you insane?" Chloe shook Max, trying to make her realize what she was saying. The girl looked so drained, she could barely stand up straight. "You know I was joking at the lighthouse, right? I can survive a few months before you come to Blackwell, you really shouldn't–"

"Chloe." Max raised her arm, stopping her friend, "I'll see if I can do summer school here or something. I'm not worried about it and neither should you."

"Alright, Max." She looked at her friend, not having much to hold onto to trust in Max's words, but did the only thing she could do. "I'm trusting you."