:
Explosive Decompression
altunderscore
1
If life were anything at all like a movie, there would have been rain at Chloe's funeral.
It had rained for Kate.
The rain had stopped for Kate.
She remembered how the rain had looked; clear suspended slivers streaked on air like a misty windowpane. How Kate had looked, silhouetted on the rooftop against the thunderheads as Max had fought like running through tar for even one more inch closer to her, before reality came slamming back and Kate fell-
But Kate hadn't fallen.
With blood pooling in the back of her throat and stars skittering across her vision Max had brought Kate down from the ledge and hugged her tight enough to bruise.
So what fucking grudge did the world bear against Chloe Price that it would hunt her, relentlessly, until she was dead and gone?
Max grit her teeth hard enough to drown out the droning of the preacher as the sun beat down on Chloe's casket like a victory drum.
Max felt like a failure for only a moment before remembering that she hadn't actually failed at all. This- Joyce breaking apart at the seams next to her, the sunny little funeral, a whole and undisturbed Blackwell, Chloe in that fucking box - was all really a success.
Max had chosen this.
The void in her chest where her heart should be was what winning felt like.
For just a second Max let herself imagine what it would be like if that hole inside her expanded just a little.
Just enough.
Only wide enough for her heart to have taken her body with it when it died on that bathroom floor.
She felt something in her jaw shift.
That wasn't good.
Joyce took her eyes off of Chloe and looked at Max to her side with concern apparent even through all the heartbreak.
Joyce had heard that. That was even worse.
Max smiled at Joyce as best she could and took the older woman's hand in her own long enough to squeeze reassuringly, which seemed to be enough for Joyce to again focus on the service.
This gave her the window she needed to slide the snapped third of one of her upper molars into the pocket of her cheek and swallow the teaspoon or so of blood welling up in her mouth before it could stain her teeth.
She caught David (Mr. Madsen currently, as they'd never actually spoken to each other in this timeline) focusing on her from under the brow of his tan military beret. Max felt his eyes search for something in her expression, and she knew the instant he found it.
His jaw set and his lips pulled flat, but all he did was solemnly nod in her direction before clasping Joyce's hand in his own and shifting his attention back to the net of words sliding out of the preacher's mouth.
Max wasn't an expert, but she'd seen enough from movies her dad watched to know that colored berets meant something different in the army. Mr. Madsen had probably buried a few of his friends before, too. If anybody got to look at her like they understood, it'd probably be him.
Max blinked, and quietly let out the breath she'd been holding. Her right hand slid into her small bag and found a handkerchief that she then brought up to her face to rub at her cheeks. As carefully as she could, she pushed the broken tooth into the damp silk cloth, disguising the movement as just wiping at her nose, and returned the handkerchief to her bag.
The preacher's words paused for a moment and a handful of birds chose that instant to fill the empty air with song.
It made her sick.
Max's hands balled into fists as she forced herself to look away from the old man at the pulpit and the long box at his feet.
The crowd wasn't overly large.
Joyce and David stood between Chloe and Max, following along with the preacher with a fragile sort of focus. Kate stood a few feet away from Max, her head bowed and hands clasped together at her chest. Max could see her lips moving, but whatever she said was lost in the distance between them. Then again, Max didn't need to hear the words to know that Kate was praying earnestly for everyone there. That was just the kind of person she was.
A bit farther away was Warren, trying very hard to look anywhere but at her. His suit fit him well, at least. Max kept her eyes on him; he always looked away when she caught him looking at her, even if it was just a benign glance.
It wasn't usually a benign glance, but she could almost guarantee Warren wouldn't be looking at her with eyes like that at a funeral.
-There. He looked back and Max held his gaze. He looked uncertain for a moment, like his brain was telling him to do too many things at once, so she smiled at him as best she could manage (which wasn't very well at all) and when he nodded back to her she brought herself back to the preacher's speech.
Max still couldn't understand what he was saying. He sounded like he was underwater.
That was odd.
Max didn't pay him much attention after that.
On the far side of Chloe stood a few of the nicer girls from Max's dorm. She had exchanged a few words with them before the service started and had found out that a couple of the girls (but mostly Dana) had known Chloe through Rachel Amber and had been friends.
Max couldn't really think of anyone Dana Ward wasn't friends with, but that wasn't the point. Getting to hear that Rachel had come to Dana for ideas about dyeing her hair for Chloe's birthday last year had gotten a genuine smile out of Max, and she'd be taking each and every one of those she could get for the near future.
On the far side of all of them, looking uncomfortable and out of place, was Victoria.
She stood as still as the headstones behind her, a hand gripped around her wrist tightly enough to flare the sleeve of the dark cardigan beneath it. Her dress was black and as pristine as anything else she wore, but here under the sun it seemed a size too big for her, a long shadow almost swallowing her whole. Her head was bowed like Kate's, but her lips weren't moving. Nothing was moving, from what Max could tell. She couldn't even see her breathe.
Still, she looked better than the last time Max had seen her. Or the time before that.
Victoria was alive. Chloe was in that box right in front of them, and Victoria was alive over there.
And Joyce was alive too.
And Warren and Dana, and Kate and everyone else in Arcadia Bay. Even Nathan was alive now, as conflicted that made her feel.
Because she'd won.
This is what she'd chosen.
It only took all of Chloe, and most of Max.
The preacher finally finished speaking, and the short silence snapped Max's attention back to the pulpit. The clergyman gestured to Mr. Madsen and Joyce, and the two of them stepped away from Max to approach him.
They exchanged a few quiet words, the preacher reached a comforting arm around Joyce's shoulders, and some men in uniforms stepped forward to bring Chloe to that hole in the ground and -
-And Max was in her room.
It was 2:00 AM, and Max was in her room. Sitting on her bed. Fully clothed.
Well, at some point she'd taken off her shoes, but she couldn't remember when.
She couldn't remember much of anything, really.
Her head was pounding.
She tasted metal.
One of her molars was still broken.
Her light was on. That was odd.
She stood from her bed and paused a moment to flush the pins-and-needles from her legs before stepping to her lightswitch and stopping short.
Her camera was looking at her from its spot on her shelf, glass eye harsh and sharp. That wasn't good at all.
Turning from the lightswitch, Max instead walked to the other side of the room where her camera was staring down at her. She glanced around for something to cover it with.
Her hamper was empty, and she needed her blanket. The camera was a bit too tall to fit in either of her drawers (she'd tried before), which is why it lived on her shelf.
Maybe under the bed with the rest of the monsters? she idly considered, only half joking.
Instead, she reached behind her and found the zipper of her dress on the second try, fingers strangely numb at first. It took some fidgeting and a bit of wiggling but eventually she got the zipper down and then her dress was a little black puddle at her feet-
like the rain on Tuesday
-and from there it went into her hands along with the camera. Max wound the black dress around the Polaroid, careful to point the lens away from herself, and when it was covered all the way she walked to the far corner of her room and dropped it behind some boxes she kept her extra clothes in.
As soon as she slid the top box over the dress and its contents she felt a palpable sort of relief wash over her.
There. Now I can turn the lights off.
She smiled, enjoying how the plush carpet felt under her feet as she returned to the lightswitch and flicked it off, a note of petty triumph pushing through the pressure in her head.
Again she reached behind herself, this time unhooking her bra, quickly pulling herself out of it and tossing the thing overhand into the empty hamper in the corner. She pulled an oversized band tee out of her top drawer and threw it on, then glanced tentatively towards her bed. She fidgeted, restless, and instead stepped to the door.
Soon, bed. Soon, she thought.
She spared a moment to slide into her indoor shoes, an old pair of Chuck Taylor beaters-turned-slippers, and moved into the hallway.
No music from Victoria's room.
How considerate.
No light from under any of the doors, either. Perfect.
Max's canvas slippers tapped numbly against her heels as she walked the quiet distance to the washroom.
The bathroom's motion-lights snapped on with a vague hum as the heavy door swung inward and Max stepped onto the tile floor, rubbing at starspots in her eyes with an unsteady hand. She winced, half pained and half surprised when she saw she wasn't alone in the bathroom.
The door clicking shut had snapped Victoria, barefoot and sans makeup, out of whatever fugue-state she'd been in and she jerked her head to look at Max. Max could physically see the reflexive barb form on the blonde's half-pursed lips as her cheeks pulled up towards her eyes and her nose crinkled near her brow.
Victoria's first reaction was always to strike. Always.
Max had learned her way around Victoria, though. Mostly, at least. In conversations the other girl couldn't remember, mind, but she'd learned nonetheless.
"Hey," Max said flatly. "Come here often?"
Victoria locked up immediately at Max's tone. She heard the figurative gears grinding together inside Victoria's head as she smiled weakly at the blonde and turned on a sink.
Coasting like this was easy. Autopilot, almost.
After a couple of empty seconds that Max spent wetting her toothbrush, Victoria collected herself well enough to speak.
"What the fuck are you doing, Caulfield?" Victoria sneered, voice tense.
Well, her tone sneered. Her expression said she was mostly confused.
Max glanced down at her toothpaste, back up to Victoria's face, and slowly put her toothbrush in her mouth.
Victoria scoffed to cover her flush.
"No shit, Lamefield. I meant your rinkydink outfit," Victoria said, like Max was particularly slow.
Max was mainly concentrating on brushing around her broken tooth, but spared the taller blonde most of a cocked eyebrow in response.
Victoria's mouth opened slightly and her brows knit together. She very visibly looked Max over from head to toe and back again.
"You look like a fucking stereotype. Converse, pantyhose, and an oversized emo-kid tshirt at 2:30 in the morning? Really?"
Max wasn't wearing pantyhose-
She looked down.
A drop of toothpaste fell off her lip and onto the tile floor.
She was wearing pantyhose.
Max spit the toothpaste into the sink so she didn't have to look too hard at Victoria shaking her head and laughing silently to herself.
She didn't want to look at the dark red whorls in her toothpaste either though, so she split the difference and looked at Victoria's bare feet instead.
Why do Victoria's toenails look better than my fingernails? That doesn't make any sense at all.
.. Why was Victoria barefoot in a mostly public bathroom in the first place?
Yeah. That one.
"You have more pairs of shoes than I have emo-kid tees and you're barefoot in a public toilet, so I guess we're both making brave choices right now," Max said, poking at her tooth with the tip of her tongue.
It wiggled.
She winced.
Victoria's lip morphed from a smirk to a full sneer over the course of Max's response before she froze and stepped forward firmly into Max's personal space, sparing a second as she did to glance into the basin of the sink.
She visibly recoiled.
"Do you have a fucking gum disease, hipster?" Victoria said, her voice half condescension and half.. concern?
Max would have backed up but her butt was already hitting the sink and her genetics didn't give her too much extra wiggle-room there to begin with.
Thanks, mom.
Uncomfortable with the sudden attention, Max's hand moved up to cover her mouth mostly on reflex, but Victoria caught her wrist before it got all the way there and very quickly there was another hand on her jaw.
That's not how this was supposed to go at all, Max thought, but then Victoria was speaking from very close to Max's face and suddenly Max wasn't the best at thinking anymore.
"I know you don't wear lipstick, so what the fuck is this?" Victoria said, only mostly snidely.
Max felt the pad of a thumb beneath her bottom lip and then a bit of pressure and warmth, but couldn't quite bring herself to push the taller girl away.
"Jesus Christ , Max, did somebody kick you in the face?"
Actual concern was something Max had only ever heard in Victoria's voice once; but that was in a timeline a bit different from this one.
Max tried to fidget away but Victoria only doubled-down, this time stepping farther forward and nearly pinning Max to the sink with a leg and some leverage.
The blonde's hand left Max's wrist and went to the ridge of her jaw instead, holding Max still while Victoria's other hand curved under her chin and the thumb on her lip pushed in -
Max's toothbrush fell from her fingers and clattered to the floor.
' .. what the hell? ' Max thought foggily, but all that actually came out of her mouth was a small, confused ".. ahh?"
Victoria froze, a flash of discomfort in her expression before her composure returned, as cool as ever. Even after apparently realizing their current position, Victoria somehow still managed to come off haughty and self-assured.
It was unfair.
"Don't get the wrong idea, Caulfield. My mom is an oral surgeon in Seattle and before I wanted to be a photographer, I wanted to be a doctor like her. That's all," the blonde girl huffed, sounding confident enough for the both of them.
Victoria's grip then softened.
"Anyway, that tooth is cracked below the gumline and it's going to bleed every time you fuck with it until the gum heals over or you get it pulled."
Victoria adjusted the hand that wasn't partially inside Max's mouth and continued.
"Even if it heals, it can still trap food or whatever else you shove in your little hipster mouth inside it and get infected, and then your face will fall off or something."
Max made a concerned noise in the back of her throat. She liked her face.
Only then did Victoria seem to become fully aware of where her thumb was, and of the slippery pinkish sheen that now covered the end of it.
"Fuck's sake, Maxine- If I get hepatitis from this I'm suing you," she said, snatching her hands away and recoiling like she'd touched a hot iron. The shiver of revulsion that ran through her as she spoke just made it all worse.
Max was almost too offended about the hepatitis remark to take issue with Victoria's abuse of her first name, but a glance down at her now-soiled toothbrush -as petty as it was- gave her the push she needed to respond in kind.
"You just watched me brush my teeth, Vicky, " Max sniped back, smiling internally when Victoria visibly cringed at the shortening of her name.
Karma, Max thought before continuing, her pulse quickening.
"And hepatitis? The hell? I'm a lot more concerned with where your hand's been, Chase. With my luck it's probably best friends with that stick you have jammed up your ass- "
Victoria's face flushed a deep red and she stepped towards Max again, opening her mouth to start on some verbal assault, but Max knew better.
Victoria Chase was a creature of momentum.
So she kept going.
"If anybody in this dorm has fucked around and caught something it's probably the girl that's spent the entire year climbing all the Vortex Club totem-poles she could get her hands on," Max said sharply. The new heat in her voice came easily, the past week kindling enough to burn through the numbness she'd felt in the blank hours before now.
Victoria's retort died on her tongue as Max's words hit her. Her teeth gnashed together and her lips pulled back in a literal snarl.
Max snarled back. That seemed like the right move, right?
She kept on, stepping towards Victoria so close their toes touched.
"The way Hayden tells it you're the highlight of the VIP room with enough vodka in you. Were him and the rest of the single guys on the football team not enough for you that you had to go after Zach, too?"
Max wasn't sure if she should know about that in this timeline, but judging by how Victoria had gone from embarrassed to actually shaking with fury in the last five or so seconds, the girl was probably a bit too preoccupied to notice the slip.
She wasn't quite done yet, though.
"Is that it? Are football players your thing? And you call me a stereotype? You've spent the last two months acting like a Molly Ringwald blowup doll when you weren't torturing people for no fucking reason-"
Max knew it was a mistake the instant it left her mouth, but by then she couldn't bring herself to care.
"Is that why you were hanging off Nathan-"
It hit her about the same time Victoria's manicured fist did, too.
Victoria's punch landed squarely between Max's nose and chin and distantly she felt herself stumble back towards the row of sinks, half from the force of the swing and half from raw surprise.
Her hands were shaking. She felt it as she pulled herself up, catching herself on the wing of a faucet.
Why was she so angry?
Max's head swam, her unfocused eyes managing to track back to Victoria as she regained her balance, only just able to put an arm in front of the wild follow-up swing Victoria sent towards her face. A stolen glance towards her eyes was all Max needed to confirm the taller blonde girl was beyond furious. She felt her breath slip through a gap in her lip that hadn't been there a minute ago, spearmint and copper tangling on her tongue, dizzying; the world going blurry in front of her as the room spun, straight-lined tiles becoming spirals beneath her feet.
Max had stopped thinking by the time Victoria lunged forward, an arm outstretched to grab her by the hair, but Max ducked under the swipe and threw herself into Victoria's middle, intent to bowl the blonde over, sudden vertigo doing most of the work for her as they both fell together.
Victoria tried to carry the weight backward to catch and stop them both, but her foot caught on something hard and rounded -the toothbrush- and in a moment she was on her ass, her back pushed against the divider of a shower stall and a bleeding mass of pale limbs was in her lap with one set of fingers around her neck and the other knotted in her short hair.
Distantly, Max felt her knees settle on either side of Victoria's hips. Felt her shoulders drive forward, pressing into the girl beneath her and twisting , until her back peeled away from the divider enough to force her sideways, anger tangling with the heat in her head as her core tightened, spine straightening enough to press Victoria's shoulders and, after a moment, the back of her head down against the damp tile of the bathroom floor.
Victoria's face darkened, fingers scrabbling at the wrist of the hand that had found itself around her neck. She felt Max's weight slide gradually up her chest, until the girl's knees were almost under the pits of her arms. She tried to dig her heels in- tried to push herself out from under the girl on top of her, but the floor may as well have been wet glass for all the purchase she found, legs left to kick futilely against empty space as she struggled to find air.
She could feel her pulse throbbing in her ears as the grip on her throat tightened.
Max's fringe had fallen over her eyes, and in the dim flicker of the fluorescent lights above them all Victoria could see was the split pinkish smears of Max's lips pulling back over the glinting red-slicked white of her teeth.
Even over the sound of her heartbeat Victoria could hear Max's teeth grinding together -
-suddenly the force of Max's palms on her throat doubled-
-she couldn't breathe-
-Victoria's fingers clawed at Max's face-
-her eyes-
-a desperate sob wrenched its way out of her chest and died in her throat as it collapsed-
-And the weight on her neck vanished immediately, Victoria's chest seizing as it forced air into her now-opened lungs with a ragged, involuntary gasp.
The starbursts in her vision hadn't even begun to clear, but she could still see how Max had thrown herself backwards off of her and practically spidercrawled into the darkest, farthest corner of the bathroom under the sinks.
Victoria tried to take in a breath to speak, but it caught strangely in the raw hollow of her throat and she coughed, violently and forcefully enough to draw her doubled around her belly on the floor. Instead, she exhaled slowly through her teeth, riding out the tremors that wracked her body as she fought to steady her breathing.
She never took her eyes off Max's silhouette in the corner, trying her best to bury her head in her knees and drive herself further into the shadow beneath the sinks. Her hands were whiteknuckled in her hair and she writhed every time Victoria's breath tangled on its way out of her ragged throat; something in the sound of it catching and dragging against something inside her Victoria couldn't see.
With a heave and a hacking cough Victoria brought herself up onto her hands and knees, from there rocking back to sit on her ankles; one hand moving to rub at her bruising neck and the other to the floor at her side to steady her. There was a high noise in her ears, thin and reedy, but after a moment spent pawing at her head with no effect, she realized it was coming from the corner Max was curled up in.
She was keening .
".. Max?" Victoria tried, but her voice was wrong.
Not loud enough. Caught against itself.
Her throat was too fucked up.
She fell forwards onto her hands and knees and, against her better instincts, crawled towards the insensate girl in the corner under the sinks.
She got within a bit farther than arms reach and stopped before trying again, just in case.
"-Max?" Victoria choked, sounding unsure even to herself.
Max only withdrew further. Her shoulders shook.
Victoria swallowed the lump in her throat, and some of her fear with it. Anger trickled in to fill the empty space, familiar enough in the moment to push her forward.
"Caulfield, you rabid bitch-" she rasped, "-are you going to murder me if I touch you?"
The messy brown mop thrashed in response.
Victoria coughed to clear her throat, mentally steadied herself, and slid closer to the struggling brunette.
"Max," she whispered, and did her best not to flinch when the girl tried to jerk away from the hand Victoria placed on her shoulder.
"Maxine, listen," Victoria whispered, sharper. "You're okay. I'm okay."
Max wasn't making any noise beyond the (frankly terrifying) keen from the back of her throat and occasionally a gasp for air muffled behind her knees, but Victoria's hand hadn't seemed to make anything worse, so..
She slid herself in closer; near enough she barely brushed the edge of Max's hip, but angled a little to one side, giving the smaller girl a way out if she freaked again. She kept whispering then, slow; nothing complex- just a sound, something human, meant to fill the air and give an outlet to her own nerves as they built and spilled out of her in hushed tones, low. She winced, needing a moment to steel herself as another gut-deep sob wrenched through the girl at her side.
Victoria said a short prayer to whoever was listening and shifted her hand from its spot on Max's near arm, carefully crossing her narrow back and coming to rest on the curve of her far shoulder.
"Come here, Caulfield.." she whispered, and with an exhausted tug and a shift of weight she pulled the smaller girl into her lap.
Max didn't fight back.
Small blessings.
Victoria adjusted herself gingerly, pressing her back against the wall to support the extra weight on her hips and pulled her knees up to secure Max in place.
Carefully, Victoria moved her hand from where it rested on Max's shoulder upward, finding the crown of the brunette's head mostly by touch, guiding it downward with a bit of gentle pressure. Dark hair looped around her fingers as she changed her hold, shifting a little to coax the bony caps of Max's knees out of her kidneys and (carefully) down onto the shadowed tile on either side of her hips instead. From there, the brunette sagged - almost deflating - into Victoria's chest, half-breathless and shaking. Every inhale twisted something in her; Victoria could feel the tension rippling under the hand sat low on the smaller girl's back, elbows biting into her chest as the brunette clawed-
Victoria quickly reached upward, catching one of the hands balled whiteknuckle in Max's fringe by a pale stretch of wrist. Victoria's hold was tighter than it needed to be, panic contagious from so close; she flinched, her grip easing, a soft apology finding itself unfamiliar on her tongue. A welcome stranger, it turned out; something in her tone finding Max through the wrack of emotion that had caught her, tendons in her wrist drawn tight and wire-like loosening some at the sound of it.
Victoria swallowed, feeling suddenly very out of place.
This was..
Max shook again, the recoil of a breath bending her almost double, her forehead digging against Victoria's collar in a way that was almost painful. Hurt, fear, grief, hissed like steam through her clenched teeth, sliding against the side of Victoria's throat sharp and slow.
She shivered. Whispered something quiet. What she'd want to hear herself, she thought.
The words slipped into the dimness, caught and made shapeless by the messy tangle of hair at her cheek, but her breath was warm where it met skin from so close; what she'd said less important than the calm in her voice as she'd said it- the slow circles the pad of her thumb made against the too-tense arm of the girl she held.
The brunette shook again, something breaking somewhere deep. It pulled at something inside of her, too.
"Take your time, Max. I'm not going anywhere," Victoria said quietly. Max gave no indication of having heard beyond another choked sob, but after a minute or so more of steady coaxing, Victoria finally felt Max's grip on her hair loosen underneath her own careful hold on Max's hands.
Slowly, gingerly, Victoria guided Max's fingers away from her scalp, bringing them instead low and away, somewhere towards the small of her back. She felt thin arms cross of their own accord behind her- felt them climb upward, digging like vines into the dark silk of her nightgown, tight.
That was fine.
The tears came in earnest then, but changed; the eerie, half-jagged wail from before blunted some, its unsteady edge bled out and lost in the moments since, the desperation of a breakdown spinning down into a more recognizably human ugly-cry.
Somewhere Victoria had been before too, at the bottom of herself.
Victoria adjusted her hold into something that felt a bit more natural; a hand coming up and cradling the back of the brunette's head, idle motions of her fingers through hair pausing every breath or two as she found a new tangle there, a breath longer working through it slow and pulling free. Her other hand drifted down Max's back, then back upward, coming to rest on her side near her ribs, skin-to-skin.
In one sense it was worse, but in other ways better that Victoria was able to feel the smaller girl jerk and tense directly like this.
"Shhh.." Victoria whispered, careful. "You're having a panic attack, but the worst of it's over now. Can you hear me, Max?"
A moment followed then, quiet; every second of it making Victoria more and more certain that she'd done something wrong, broken something. The relief she felt as Max nodded unsteadily into her bare collar instead caught her flatfooted, unexpected warmth trickling in and washing away some of her own uncertainty.
She was doing something right.
She could do this.
Victoria breathed inward, an almost shameful sort of relief passing through her as the motion-lights flicked off and cast them into quiet darkness.
"Just focus on my breathing," Victoria whispered softly. "It's okay to keep crying for as long as you need to; just remember to keep breathing with me until you're finished, okay?"
A long, shuddering exhale down the side of her neck was the only answer she received, but that was okay. After a few moments Victoria could feel Max's ribs expand and contract in time with Victoria's own.
Victoria slowly brushed her hand up and down Max's side as the girl gradually pulled herself together.
"You're going to be okay," Victoria said, softly but firmly. "I'm not leaving you, Max."
Not for the first time, Victoria thanked whoever was listening that she'd thought to get a book on grief after Taylor had opened up to her about things with her mom. That she'd needed something like that still ate at her, but all of it paled next to the relief she felt that it had actually worked.
That she could help someone.
It was..
Victoria exhaled slowly, the outward breath catching something raw in her bruised throat. She winced, then mentally kicked herself when she felt Max flinch too, the smaller girl's grip around her tightening for a moment before going slack again. She mumbled something Victoria couldn't make out, but whatever she'd said was the first she'd spoken in the last half-hour or so, and that had to count for something.
"Try again, dork. You sound like you're speaking Mogwai down there," Victoria prodded gently, easing both of them into speech.
"-said'm'srry.." Max sniffed, clearer this time but still quiet, her face buried in nightgown silk and voice half-muffled by it.
Victoria thought she felt her face warm, awareness of their position creeping in, strong.
A little shame, too. The story of her life.
"Don't worry about it too much," she murmured back, mentally re-railing herself. "It's been a complete bitch of a week for both of us."
Max made a noise that was either a sad cough or a weak laugh. Endearing, though it really shouldn't be. Victoria distracted herself, going back to untangling Max's knotted hair, anxious energy venting through the careful motions of her fingers. She had to say something. Keep her mouth moving.
".. That doesn't make what you did not a problem, but I get where it came from, at least," Victoria offered, delivery a little stilted, eyes on Max's dim silhouette as they adjusted slowly to the bathroom's darkness.
The girl in her lap seemed to shrink in on herself and Victoria changed her hold again, the hand against the skin of Max's ribs dropping down to one hip, a moment of effort drawing her back in as the hand in her hair curved down, around her cheek to her chin. Victoria swiped her thumb upward, slow; mindful of the splits and welts and spots of tacky metallic moisture she could feel dappling the freckled girl's skin.
"Victoria.." Max whispered into the dark, softly enough the blonde girl had to tell more by the movement of the brunette's lips under her fingertips than by the sound that reached her ears.
"I know," Victoria said, feeling warmth come to Max's cheeks as damp, bruised skin shifted with the uncertainty of her new expression.
"I'm sorry too."
Max mumbled something Victoria couldn't make out beyond the sound of it, fragile and low; Victoria's arms looped over the smaller girl's shoulders regardless, cinching there, a guiding tether not-quite tight but present all the same. A comfortable pressure, the warm weight of a heavy blanket, almost.
It was nice enough to hold on to, for a while.
Whatever Max had meant to say, she'd forgotten it by the time she pulled herself away from Victoria's chest. Her own weight felt strange as it settled back onto her knees, less of it falling on the hips of the girl beneath her. Alien in a way, as though it had belonged to a body that wasn't wholly hers. She blinked, eyes sticky, and the odd sensation passed; leaving her instead with a sort of pins-and-needles sting in its wake as her sleeping self made to move again.
An emptiness, cathartic. The edge of a smile pulled at her lips as she shifted and stretched, then paused.
Max giggled for what felt like the first time in a week.
Victoria didn't care that Max couldn't possibly see how she cocked her eyebrow or rocked back onto her palms in disbelief. Max could definitely hear her trademark scoff, and that's what really mattered.
"Just what the fuck could you possibly be laughing about right now, dweeb?" Victoria jabbed with none of her usual venom.
Max giggled harder and then tensed, stopping short.
"I just remembered why I came here in the first place is all.."
She hadn't stopped fidgeting.
Victoria caught on fast.
"Max, you've been digging your bony hipster ass directly into my bladder for God knows how long at this point. If you pee on me, I swear I will feed you to that little tree you have in your room and they'll never find your body," Victoria growled.
Max started like a spooked animal and made to stand up, but Victoria's firm hand pulled her back down before she could go very far.
Victoria heard Max inhale slowly from just above her.
"Watch the sink, dork," Victoria chided gently, almost nose-to-nose with the freckled brunette.
"O-oh.." Max mumbled, "Yeah. Thanks.." she said, sliding out from underneath the string of sinks before righting herself this time, mindful not to bang her head against anything hard and sharp on the way up.
The motion-sensors caught Max stretching as she stood and flicked on with a snap, bathing the girls' bathroom in pale flickers of light. She flinched momentarily, but collected herself, reaching down and offering Victoria her hand up.
"Just don't pull too hard, y'know," Max said, as steady as she could manage. "I can't be blamed if something goes wrong if you're the one that messed up, right?"
Victoria accepted the offered hand with a faux-posh air that carried into her tone as she spoke, "I'm sure I'm more than capable of blaming you for whatever irrational thing I please, Ms. Caulfield."
Max's laugh was soft, but it faded quickly when she pulled Victoria into the light and saw the twisting, purple bruisework circling her throat, and the red bloom of the burst vessel in one of her eyes.
Max's stomach lurched precariously, head spinning, but Victoria still had a hold on her hand and wouldn't let her fall. Green eyes flicked across her face in alarm as the blonde stepped forward to steady her, scanning through a dozen different things in her expression before clicking her tongue and turning both of them towards the mirror when she realized it was just Max being Max.
"It appears that you've ruined me, Caulfield," Victoria said dryly, leaning over the sink to get a good look at her reflection.
Max ducked her head again and mumbled an apology, unable to even look in Victoria's direction anymore.
She felt sick.
The sound of two quick barefoot steps on tile announced Victoria's presence in front of her and suddenly a single index finger was pressing into the underside of her chin, forcing her gaze up and into a pair of mostly-green eyes.
Mostly-green eyes over a very smug grin.
"You should see the other guy," she said, seemingly dripping confidence as she guided Max towards the bathroom mirror. Max was almost afraid to look.
Next to Victoria's face in the glass was the reflection of someone that looked a little like Max.
They had the same eyes and hair, but this girl's lips were a ruin. Three scratches dug parallel grooves from her brow all the way to her jaw almost, and her eyes were bloodshot and swollen from all the tears. Dried blood crusted her chin and filmed over her front teeth (which were all still there, thank god ) but her skin alternated between milk-white and a blotchy red from her hairline to beneath the loose collar of her too-large shirt.
So gross.
She felt Victoria brush against her as the blonde girl reached past to turn on the sink, then stepped back after a beat and vanished out of sight, seemingly not bothering to give Max's face a second glance. A moment after, there was a sound of exertion and a sharp tearing noise from somewhere behind her, further wordless grumbles quickly lost beneath the sound of the drain.
Half a minute passed like this, and Max busied herself adjusting the temperature of the water and pawing at her cheeks until she felt a presence behind her and the careful weight of a hand at her hip.
She turned and found Victoria standing there as expected, but with her knee-length silk nightgown shorter by several inches.
"Here," the blonde said, a conflicted look on her face. "You can use these."
In her hand were several long strips of dark cloth.
"Oh, it's not a big deal-" Max stammered, unsure of what to say. "I can just use some toilet paper, or my shirt-" she finished, her words trailing off at the sudden glint in Victoria's eyes.
"Oh no Max, I insist. Use these while I get you some real supplies from my room," Victoria said, her tone allowing no space for argument.
"But your nightgown-" Max started, but was cut off.
"There will be others, Caulfield," Victoria said sternly, then softened. "What really matters is that I get back here with some disinfectant, and then we can make sure nobody's face falls off," she finished, a little too upbeat for what she was saying.
The mewling noise in the back of Max's throat was back again as she once more contemplated a faceless life.
Victoria's smug grin somehow intensified as she inclined her head.
"You're going to make it, Maxine. Trust me."
Her confidence was a little contagious. Max believed her.
"I'll be back in a minute, dork. Try to clean yourself up?" the blonde said rhetorically as she turned for the door.
Max answered anyway, an idea forming.
"Wait."
Victoria stopped and pivoted on a dime, and suddenly her undivided attention was on Max.
It felt heavy.
"Yes, Caulfield?" she said, curiosity beating out the urgency of getting to her first aid kit.
"Ah.." Max stammered, a hand making awkward knots in her hair as she found herself flushing.
' God I am such a cliche.. ' she thought, embarrassed, but continued when Victoria cocked her head to the side inquisitively.
Max tried to steady herself, what was supposed to be a calming breath stinging as it passed through the tear in her lip, still raw. Still, it focused her a little; enough to keep her moving forward, at least.
"You're.. actually really good at this whole taking care of people thing, Victoria, " Max said quietly, not quite able to keep looking at the taller blonde despite the small surge of surety she felt in the moment.
"Max-" she heard Victoria say, but she kept speaking.
Confidence.
Momentum.
"I just.. really like this side of you, is all."
There .
She said it.
There was silence for a few moments before Max heard bare feet on tile again, footsteps slow and measured.
She was still too embarrassed to look at the blonde directly, but she couldn't keep the small smile off her face as she stared at Victoria Chase's immaculate toenail polish.
Victoria's willowy arms encircling her for the dozenth time that night was a very welcome feeling, and the heavy sigh down the side of Max's neck sent.. complicated tingles down to the tips of her toes, but the weight in Victoria's words when she spoke brought Max up short.
"I'm.. not nearly as good at it as I could be, Max," Victoria said, her voice heavy with something that hadn't been present a moment ago. Max's arms rose of their own accord, an echo of the warmth bled into them in the dark minutes before still lingering, she hoped. Enough for the girl holding her to feel herself, to share in.
Max's arms tightened. Victoria felt so thin.
"I'm not even half as good at caring for other people as I should have been, Max. There were more than enough signs, more than enough chances , but.." Victoria trailed off as her voice broke under its own weight.
"Fuck, Max. I'm.. so sorry .. I-"
Victoria's fingers pressed into Max's back almost desperately and Max felt something raw escape the other girl as a hiss between clenched teeth, but Max never heard Victoria make so much as a sound of vulnerability of her own.
"I just.." Victoria collected herself, and pulled Max against her more evenly this time. When she spoke, her voice was unwavering.
"I owe it to a lot of people to be a better person than I was, Max," Victoria leaned away, and Max became acutely aware of the hand that fell against the small curve of her back. Static prickled at her skin in needlepoints at the warm pressure, even as the other hand moved around to her front, catching her chin again.
Victoria guided Max's gaze up to meet hers with soft fingertips and a softer voice.
"Now Maxine.. " Victoria began with the confident sort of smirk that Max thought suited her so much better than her old, mean ones.
-god when did her eyes get so green-
"If you don't-"
-Max stood on the tips of her toes-
"-stop distracting me.."
-alllmosstt-
There.
Max rested her forehead against Victoria's and fought very hard to keep the blush off her cheeks.
"Shhh.." Max whispered, holding on tightly to Victoria, half for balance and half to keep her from trying to run away again.
"I believe you, 'Tori. It's going to be okay."
Victoria's eyes widened.
Max kissed her.
This started as something to do to give a little bit back to the Chasefield clan while we wait for updates from the actual good writers. You know who you are. Keep doing your thing.
Chapter One of Explosive Decompression functions as a quasi-oneshot because I'm not very consistent as a writer. I needed to come to a natural stopping point right-off out of courtesy, in case what comes after is never truly finished. Above, there are more than enough threads established to continue on into a fuller story, but at its core the thesis is all here. If this were a "true" oneshot, less pagetime would have been spent on side characters and more on fleshing out Victoria's half of the equation, such as what she was doing staring into a bathroom mirror for so long the motion-sensitive lights turned off around her at two in the morning, for example.
Mirrored from Ao3, so if formatting gets borked, we all know why.
That's for the future though. Please leave a review, please keep updating your own fics, and I'll see you again in a bit.
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