Lynn is in a hurry, but then she always is. I rush to shake the water from my sleeping bag, then roll it up. It takes only a few minutes to stuff it into its sack and tie it to my pack. My stomach growls while I’m tying it down and Lynn tosses me a silver package, which I fumble and drop.

“Thanks,” I say. “How many of these did you pack?”

“Enough to get us there.” Which isn’t really an answer. She rolls her eyes and turns to leave.

I glare at her, then pick up the package of pop tarts. After I hoist the pack onto my back, I tear open the wrapper and begin to eat.

“We need to move fast today to stay ahead of him,” Lynn says as she sets off at a rapid pace. It’s the same pace she’s maintained over the last three days and it’s running me into the ground.

“Fuck this pace,” I say, “we’re so close, can’t we slow down?”

“And let him catch us,” she spits back at me. “I didn’t go through the trouble of breaking you out of the Institute only to throw you to him.”

I have no answer to that and keep my thoughts to myself as I eat the brown sugar and cinnamony goodness. It’s better that way. The first two days I tried pushing her for more information, only to find the younger woman as headstrong as me. And with as sharp a tongue.

My thoughts dwell on what she said, saving me from the Institute. Max’s death haunted me in a way dad’s never did, probably because I witnessed it. Her blood covered my hands, smeared down my clothes. Everything in slow motion and loud with screaming, crying, echoes of gun shots, angry shouts, distraught cries. Blood spraying, splattering, dripping, gushing, pumping in time to the dying heart.

I shake my head to clear it of the image, though I know it will return when I don’t want it. Max watches me from the edge of the track we follow. She keeps pace, her gaze moving between the way ahead to me and back.

You showed up a few days after your death. Scared the shit out of me. And you kept coming back, always staring and following me. Now, you rarely leave.

Blood and death fill my sleep with nightmares. Ghostly apparitions of you fill them in the day. Months after the event I was committed to the Institute. Who did it, I don’t give a fuck. That’s not even the place’s real name and again I don’t give a fuck.

After your death, I no longer have fucks to give.

You took all of them from me when you showed there was one person willing to give a fuck about me.

We wander through forests and among hills, always far from towns and homes. The path she walks keeps us far away from other people. She’s the only person I’ve seen since leaving the Institute, you not included. Lynn says we’re headed toward the epicenter, like we’re studying an earthquake or something. I don’t know what it’s the center of. Shit maybe.

It’s early fall, I think. A few of the trees have leaves tinged with oranges and reds. Most of the trees are evergreens though, which makes the colorful ones stick out. I’m just glad we’re following a trail instead of pushing our way through the thick underbrush. Remember when we did that as kids, pretending we were pirates sneaking up on the enemy? Shit, what’s with everything being blurry all of a sudden! I miss you.

Lynn showed up at the Institute three days ago and broke me out. I was so done with that place. Endless rules and mind games. Other patients that fucked with you. Not a single place for privacy or to keep your own stuff. The only good thing about it is it drove away my smoking habit. Yeah, that’s sarcasm. Fuck you! As if I care. I’m sorry, I do care. I care too fucking much! Shit! Shit! Shit!

She showed up and legit broke me out of the place. I didn’t know who she was or how she did it. In the turmoil after your death I’m sure I met her sister Kate, but I kind of had other things on my mind. Or not. Not much of a mind. Damn, but I could use something right now.

Speaking of Kate… I’m sorry.

Lynn walks ahead of me, a tough ass kid six years younger than me that can give me a run for it with attitude. Shit’s crazy and she’s got it by the short hairs.

“No I don’t,” she says over her shoulder. Doesn’t even stop to look at me. How does she do that? Frickin’ mind reader or something.

Like you and your time control. Oh yeah, like I’m totally believing that! Why would a time traveller step into a bullet’s path for me? But you did… and fuck it I’m not worth it. Damn! I can’t see. Fucking forest is all blurry. Must be allergies. Hold on. There, that’s better.

Five years gone and you come back and prove yourself the biggest badass I’ve ever known. And now I see you all the time but I can’t tell you that you shouldn’t have given your life for me. I can’t touch you. You’re there, but you aren’t.

We keep to animal trails and overgrown logging roads, far away from the main roads and highways. We’d make better time if we followed those, but well, you heard Lynn earlier.

“Can you at least keep your voice down,” she says. She actually stopped walking to say that.

I stop too, startled that she’s speaking to me. The look she gives me though, fuckin’ soft on the eyes. She’s a looker, Lynn is.

Lynn steps close to me and puts her hand on my arm. “Chloe,” she whispers, “It’s ok that you talk to her, really it is. If sis showed up like Max does for you…” She looks right at Max when she says that, but Max only has eyes for me.

“Please keep your voice down. It will be more important when we get close to town, where we can easily be detected.”

“Close to town, yeah, whatever the fuck is left of it.”

“It was only partially destroyed. People live there and the Prescotts are doing their best to attract more people. Turn it into a bedroom community for Portland.”

That’s the longest ass speech she’s given me.

She throws her hands into the air and looks at Max. “I can’t wait,” she mutters, “I hope this helps her.”

Did I mention the town was destroyed? Five days after you saved me, a big fucking storm shows up out of nowhere and takes out most of the town. Least everything along the wharf was destroyed, and all the shit in a direct line with the wharf.

You showed up after the storm.

Blackhell was toast too. Best thing to ever happen to that shithole. Well’s alcohol was blown away and so was his failure of a job. A lot of good people died in the storm. Mom…

Fucking rain or something making my sight blurry, again.

“We’re gonna make it right,” I hear Lynn whisper.

What was I telling you about earlier? Oh, that’s right. Kate. Wish I could remember her but I was so fucked up with you dying in my arms. Bullet grazed my arm. You didn’t deserve it! You didn’t!

Silence. That’s what I need right now.

No. I don’t want to talk about Kate. Or what happened to my heart that week. Nothing left there.

Silence.

That’s better.

But it’s not. Damn it! Why can’t anything ever be simple! I can’t do this, walking to nowhere with you so near and so far. After Rachel disappeared, I felt worse than before. A nothing in a nowhere town. Not wanted. Then you show up… fuck!

Lynn stops and hands me something. “My last two,” she says and puts one of the cigarettes in her mouth. I accept the other and she lights both of them.

“This is the best part of you breaking me out,” I say after a long pull. “You got the best shit.” I can feel the drug seeping into my system, loosening me up.

Max takes a step close to me, her eyes filled with questions. “Sorry, Max,” I whisper. “You gotta go now.” I take another long pull and close my eyes. After the smoke trickles from my mouth, I open my eyes to find Max is gone.

“Fucking allergies.”

We stand on a hill overlooking Blackwell’s ruins. A lot of the trees here are flattened and rot where they fell. The main building is our goal. According to Lynn, if we get into the girl’s restroom, all will be made right.

Next to me, Lynn uses a pair of binoculars to scan the area. It’s past noon and I’m chewing on another pack of pop-tarts. I like to eat them sandwiched together. The effects of my high are still on me and I don’t mind how dry my mouth is. A sip from my water bottle will cure it.

“Ok,” Lynn says, “no one’s there. Let’s go down quietly.” We’ve been standing here twenty minutes or more while Lynn made sure no one was in the ruins or the grounds around it.

I stuff the silver wrapper in a pocket, put my water bottle away and nod. “Ready,” I whisper.

Lynn steps into my space and looks me in the eye. “Remember,” she whispers. “Keep your voice down. The longer we go undetected, the better.”

“Voice down. Quiet. Got it.” I give her the thumbs up. She looks at me a while as if waiting for something.

With a nod, she turns, steps from the shadow of the trees and strolls toward the buildings. There’s no shelter between the tree line and the campus, so no sense in ducking or walking low.

I catch up to her and we walk shoulder by shoulder. She’s taller than me by an inch or two and I have to tilt my head up a little when I look at her.

“Is Max still gone,” she whispers.

My eyes flit around me. “Yeah,” I reply in the same. “But… I think she’ll be back soon.”

Of all the things the Institute tried to help me with, or at least claim to help me, none of them worked. Then Lynn shows up, hands me a joint and Max is gone. Not permanently, I doubt I could handle that, but long enough for me to kind of function. Or at least not talk to her. Like I’m doing now though she’s not fucking visible.

Fuck I miss you.

But since I’m talking to you… you’ll be back soon.

Lynn says coming here will help us be together again. I can’t wait to chew you out for saving me. Oh, fuck. Who am I kidding? I’ll be too happy at seeing you again to think properly. As if I could ever think properly.

Lynn glares at me. I stick my tongue out at her.

The buildings loom large as we walk across the lawn gone to seed. Wonder what happened to Samuel? He’d hate to see what happened to the grounds.

“He’s ok,” Lynn says. “Found a job as a groundskeeper at a private zoo in Washington.”

We stop in front of a side door. While Lynn fiddles with the lock, I face outward. Supposedly to keep watch, but I’m more interested in studying the school remains. Poorly tended lawn, downed trees and bushes that desperately need a trim are the only things visible. Sounds of cars come from a distance. I guess people do live here. Who’d want to live in ruins?

Of course, for all I know, the town is rebuilt, beautiful, and thriving. I don’t care. Arcadia Bay took everyone and everything I cared about and destroyed them.

A flicker in the corner of my eye catches my attention. A hazy outline appears, then disappears. It’s there long enough for me to catch a glimpse of short brown hair. “She’s coming back,” I hiss over my shoulder.

The only response is a click and groan as the door is hauled open. “Inside, now,” Lynn whispers, not bothering to hide the command in her voice. I follow her into the abandoned school and she shuts the door behind us.

Broken lockers, glass from smashed display cases, bent trophies, torn and rotting decorations and many other things line the hall. Thick debris makes it hard to walk. A hole gapes in the roof overhead and green things hang through it, growing toward the floor. Our feet crunch over the debris and we’re careful not to touch anything. Who knows what can happen. Or what lives here.

Broken walls lean precariously atop other walls, or desks, or lockers. A groan echoes through the hall as the air pressure changes the way the walls rest. The air is heavy and wet with rotting vegetation and more. It’s a powerful stench, worse than even the solitary wing at the Institute.

“If the Prescott’s are so intent on rebuilding AB,” I whisper, “why’d they leave this place in ruins?” Lynn ignores my question.

We turn a corner and in the hazy light streaming with spores or dust we see our goal. The woman’s restroom door pulls us, but Lynn blocks me from moving toward it. Her head swivels, checking all directions and listening.

“It’s almost time,” she whispers.

“How do you know?”

“It’s hard to explain. I don’t fully understand it myself. It’s more a feeling than anything.”

“Oh.”

She looks at me and I see in her eyes what I so desperately wanted to see from someone for years. Her hand touches mine, a soft reassurance. “Soon,” she whispers, “you’ll be with her soon.”

“And… you and Kate?”

Her face hardens, likely an attempt to not cry, and she nods. “Yes, I’m trying not to cry, ya dork.” She turns away so I can’t read the rest of her face.

To my side stands Max, looking as anxious as the day we first met. She grips her elbow, her eyes also locked on the restroom door.

It’s such a simple thing, this door into a sort of public restroom. Plain. Unadorned except for the word Women near the top. Needs tagging though. Lynn walks toward it and I’m not far behind. It opens at her touch and we step into where it all began.

I kind of expected something big, like a ray of sunlight and people singing. Or maybe Him and a bunch of people shooting at us. Instead there’s only a ruined woman’s restroom.

Stall doors hang crookedly from their frames, casting shadows in the dim light. All the mirrors are broken, their silver shards strewn among the sinks and on the floor where they mix with other debris. The window is also broken and fresh air is carried in by the breeze. That helps the room smell better than the rest of the ruined school.

The glass crunches underfoot as we walk into the room. My mind purposely avoids picturing Max and Nathan and the bullet and the blood and the screams and the gunshot and the pain, burning, burning, burning as it rips across my arm and she’s falling, oh no, she’s falling and I’m falling and we’re going down and-

Lynn shakes my arm and the vision breaks. “Thanks,” I mutter. To the side, Max looks at me with concern. I ignore that she stands where I did that day, but then there it is.

“So… what, I stand over there, Max takes my hand and…?”

“That’s part of it.”

“What’s the rest?”

Lynn points and I look behind myself. A blue butterfly rests on one of the broken sinks, its wings open and close slowly. The blue shimmer of its wings draws me closer. It stays in place as I step to the sink. From the corner of my eye, I see Max at my side. Her hand is out flat, waiting for something.

The butterfly takes to the air and flutters around in its haphazard way. I watch it, my breath caught in my throat, my heart stopped. It flits and swirls then comes to a rest on Max’s palm. Its wings are closed. It should be falling through to the floor, but no, it stays on her hand as stable as when on the sink!

My hand reaches toward Max, thinking this is the moment! This is when it happens! My hand passes through hers. “Fuck! What am I supposed to do?”

“Hello, ladies,” a deep voice says from the doorway.

We spin to find a man, possibly in his fifties, blocking the entry. His gray and black hair is cut short on the sides, just long enough on top to sweep to the side. In the distance, some animal howls, a sound felt more than heard.

The world shifts and moves and I stumble, catching myself on the railing. For a moment I am everywhere but nowhere, then the world comes into focus.

The Hounds bound across the open area toward us! Most of them run, but some blink in and out of existence, teleporting ahead of their fellows.

“Some people called them blinkers in the early days,” Chloe says as the armor covers her completely. “Kind of glad the VoidHounds name won.” She glances at me and touches my shoulder. My entire focus is on these strange beasts speeding toward us. “You best activate your armor.”

Her touch startles me and I almost lose my balance again. As she steadies me, her words sink in and I try to remember how to activate the armor. Oh yeah, it’s thought controlled! I give the mental command and streams of the black substance flow around and over me. It’s like being in soft jets of warm water. Whoever designed this did an awesome job!

It encases my head, which causes a moment of panic. Air continues flowing though, and I can still see as if my head wasn’t covered. Only now measurements and gauges and many other items appear in the air before me.

“You’ll be ok.” Chloe’s voice is calm and clear in my ear.

I return my attention to the Hounds. The numbers and widgets fade away as I focus. They’re almost here and beams of light shoot forth from the walls. Within moments, I’m at the edge of a sci-fi laser battle! Except the lasers, or whatever they are, only come from the people on the walls. Nothing comes from the Hounds.

My focus shifts to the person beyond the charging Hounds. Suddenly, I can see the person clearly. They wear a dark outfit, like a uniform and their skin is purplish. Both the skin and outfit seem to suck in the light around them. They turn to face me and a smile slowly spreads across their face. One hand raises to point at me and I step backward.

The world around me returns to the sights and sound of the strange battle. Hounds stumble and fall, some to rise, the rest staying down. The ones that don’t rise lay still then moments later dissipate into a purple haze. The Hounds ignore the walls and gate and run in an arrow formation straight toward our tower.

“Do they normally charge like that,” I ask.

“No… they don’t.”

They draw closer and now soldiers are on either side of us with their weapons. I hear high pitched sounds as the lasers fire. The lead Hounds fall to be replaced by several more. The ones in front leap into the air and at the peak of their arc, other Hounds appear above them and use them as springboards to leap higher.

“Oh shit,” Chloe shouts. “Inside, Max! Inside!”

I don’t know what she means and I waste precious seconds figuring it out. Finally, she takes my arm and hustles me toward the entry to the guard house.

And just in time because a Hound crashes into the railing right where I stood! The tower shudders from the impact and soldiers immediately fire at the Hound hanging from the railing.

Chloe shoves me into the room and follows me. I stumble against a table, crushing it as I fall. This stuff must be heavier than it appears! I right myself among the shattered wood and push myself up.

Hounds now swarm the railing, overwhelming the soldiers. A knot forms in my stomach, churning with a fury, as one by one the soldiers fall to the Hounds.

“The armor can’t withstand a determined assault by several Hounds at once,” Chloe says quietly. She turns this way and that, gun in her hand. “I let my people know what’s going on,” Chloe says. “But I don’t know if they’ll get here in time.”

She turns and grabs my shoulders. “If the Hounds break in here, I want you to leave. I’ll distract them.”

“No,” I say, aghast. The knot gets bigger and drags at me. I think I’m going to throw up. “I won’t leave you!”

“We need to get down,” she says suddenly and pulls at my shoulders.

“What! Why?” I lower myself though everything in me says I should keep standing. It will be easier to defend myself or run or help Chloe if I’m standing. I really want to run, but I can’t bear the thought of leaving her.

“They’re gonna use the big guns to fire on the tower. If they can kill them off or drive them away, we can get out of here.” Chloe pushes me down more and drapes herself over me. There are so many Hounds, I can’t see the skyline or anything else. Only their churning purple masses and glowing eyes are visible. They slam themselves against the structure, which shakes under the attack.

“I will always love you,” Chloe whispers.

A flash of blue catches my eye and I look to the side. A small blue butterfly flits through the air to alight on my hand.

“Max?”

Reality shifts and my mind spins. For a moment, I’m in between and without reality. Then I’m in a soft place, with skin on skin and scents that I know.

My eyes flutter open to find Victoria gazing at me. Our faces are close, noses almost touching. She smiles at me, a most beautiful thing. The cruel smile and plunging knife flashes in my mind and I push myself away and cry out. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“What’s the matter!” Wide-eyed, she looks at me. There’s no hate, anger, or bitterness in her voice. But my hands are pushing and shoving and everything is blurry. The only thought I have is how I grievously hurt her. And what happened because of that.

She avoids my flailing arms and tries to hold onto me. And I’m crying and begging forgiveness and telling her how horrible I am. That I didn’t mean to hurt her and I’m evil and bad and she deserves better.

We struggle until I fall off the bed. The hard floor slamming into my naked butt jars more than my bones. I look around the apartment, confused to find myself here.

“Max?” There’s so much warmth and love and concern in they way she says my name that I break down and cry. I’m not worth that love. A warm blanket slips around my shuddering body and I’m pulled into the soft embrace of the person who should hate me right now. But instead, she loves me and I’m hurt and don’t know what to do.

Her devastated face, hurt by my betrayal and weakness, consumes my mind and I can’t look at her. Arms gently hold me against her, though I feel foul, unworthy of being touched by her. My body shakes from the raw emotions that course through me.

“Shhh,” she whispers into my hair. “It was only a dream. I don’t hate you. You aren’t bad or evil. You are good and strong. You’re my wife and I love you dearly.” Over and over she says these words and similar, but I can’t bring myself to believe them. I fail everyone. Chloe. William. Joyce. You.

Fingers touch me lightly on my cheek. I can’t see her through the haze that clouds my vision. The fingers brush my cheek, a lovers caress up to my hair. Then she holds me close to her breast and strokes my hair.

The fact that she willingly touches me, soothes me, finally lets the truth in. “It was a nightmare,” I choke, my throat so tight I can barely speak.

“It’s ok. You’re with me, safe,” Vic breathes and pulls me close for a kiss. Her warm embrace feels so good that I never want to leave it. In her arms, the nightmare gradually fades. My eyes seek out my right wrist, which lays naked and unscarred on the blanket. It was only a nightmare. Only. Probably the worst nightmare I’ve ever had.

“Hold me, please,” I beg.

And she does. She doesn’t tell me she’s already holding me. Instead, she tells me where we are. She tells me about our life together, our successes and failures. She speaks of love and friendship and more.

Gradually, I stop shaking. I’ve made a mess of our bed, blanket, and her. She doesn’t stop telling me about us. Only when my shaking is gone and my breathing returned to normal does she stop speaking. Her caresses continue. Through my hair, over my shoulders, along my back, all light touches that soothe me.

“Are you able to talk about it right now?”

“I… I hurt you… not just in my nightmare…” My weak voice shakes.

“Tell me about that.” Her words are a welcome invitation that I cannot accept.

“I…” The silence that stifles my words doesn’t dismay her as she tightens her hold on me. Fingers draw their lines on my skin in a way that connects me to life and to her.

She lifts my shoulders and whispers, “Let’s get back into bed.” The cold, hard floor under my butt is more than enough encouragement. She pulls me onto her, with my head just below her chin, and wraps the blankets around us. Our little nest of safety.

“You’ll be late for work,” I say. My eyes are closed to allow better focus on the ways I’m connected to her.

“Don’t care,” she whispers. “Starting the day with a maximum cuddle is more important.”

The last of my tension flees with those words and I melt into her embrace.

“You know what we should do?”

Soft skin under my fingers, warm and inviting, draws my hand upwards. “What should we do?”

“We should go to one of those couple’s spa days.”

My eyes flutter open and I tilt my head to look up at her. “Spa days?”

“A day of pampering, relaxing, and refocusing. No obligations or thoughts about work or family, just you and I in a peaceful place.”

“I’m in a peaceful place.”

She smiles at my words. “We have reservations this Saturday at Eternal Bliss. I was going to surprise you over dinner last night but… I had more important things on my mind.”

Eternal Bliss! “Doesn’t it take months to get reservations there?”

“Maybe… Turns out one of my clients is one of its owners. She gave me a full day slot for their Angelic Couples experience.”

“Wow.” I’ve never been to a spa. Wonder what that’s like?

We fall into a comfortable silence. It wraps around me and keeps questions at bay. It’s an avoidance technique though and she knows it.

“Do you remember the first night we stayed together,” she asks lightly. Her fingers trail along my arm. She knows the perfect places to touch me when I need safety, comfort, and connection.

“How could I forget! You were my first girlfriend.” Though I wish it was Chloe. And I wince. Evil, evil, Max!

She smiles at my words. “The next day, I knew just how special you were. That’s when I decided I wanted to marry you.”

I tilt my head again and look at her dazzling eyes. They look at the far wall, focused on something only she can see. “That early,” I breathe. I can’t resist pulling her chin to me so I can lightly kiss it.

“When I realized I missed my morning check-in with my parents, I freaked out. You stayed with me, to help me, even though it meant missing some important tests. Even though it took more than three hours to calm me down, you stuck with me. You helped me create a plan to explain my lack of check-in, even though you didn’t understand why or how important it was. The fact it was important to me was all you needed.”

“I remember,” I say as I stroke her chin with my finger. “You hid in my closet and barred the door. I felt bad for you, cramped in that tiny space and so scared.”

“You played the guitar for me. It was when you made up that song “I’ve something in the closet”-“

“Oh, that was horrible!”

“It wasn’t to me. You helped me see life differently. You brought me out of that closet. You helped me laugh instead of panic.”

“That’s when I first began to understand what your parents did to you.”

She lifts my fingers to her lips and kisses them. “You listened without fear or judgement. You didn’t try to dismiss my fears even though you didn’t understand them. Others in my past weren’t like that. You’re different in a good way.

“And when I crawled out of that closet, your clothes strewn across me, and saw you playing the guitar… You mastered my heart as deftly as you mastered the guitar. You weren’t my first girlfriend, but I was determined you would be my last.”

Her fingers stray down and touch my chest above my heart. “Max,” she whispers cautiously. “You hurt and you’re keeping it in. When you’re ready, I’m here to listen without judgement and to help you bear this.”

I cover her hand with mine and close my eyes.

“When you hurt, I hurt.” Those words make me shudder and almost bring the tears again. They are the same words I told her when she tried to shield me from the demons she struggled with. And they help me to open myself to her now.

“I… didn’t leave all of Chloe’s things at her grave.” Please don’t hate me.

“What did you keep?” Through her chest, I hear her heart, steady and strong. It doesn’t speed up or slow down.

“The picture I took of us in bed the morning after we broke into the Blackwell swimming pool.”

“That’s a beautiful memory. Tell me what that picture means to you.”

“Chloe… had gone through so much. That morning… In that picture, she’s happier than I’d seen her in years.” Bit by bit, I walk through the nightmare. Words spark visuals which threaten to return me to that place. There’s a burning, crawling sensation in my right wrist that demands attention. When I try to attend to it, she takes my hand away. She kisses my wrist and brushes it lightly with her thumb. My other hand she wraps in hers.

I talk about how much I miss my friend. That deep down I failed Chloe as a friend. And how part of me will always be in Arcadia Bay. And how I fear I will fail Tori, no matter what I do. My words are all over the place and I backtrack and repeat myself in an attempt to make sense because my words and thoughts are scattered and refuse to follow a logical pattern.

Through it all she gives me gentle encouragement. Sometimes a word, other times a caress. Never a harsh or cold response, never what I experienced in the nightmare. And when I’m done and empty and trembling because I still fear I hurt her and expect a harsh response, she folds me in her arms, kisses the tip of my nose and says, “Thank you for sharing that.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“For?”

“For not telling you sooner about the picture and… misleading you about my putting her behind me… I can never put her behind me.”

“Max… you told me now. That’s what’s important. I don’t expect you to forget about her, or give up any of your shared memories or things.”

“But… it would have destroyed us if I hadn’t shared it.”

“You don’t know that. You shared it with me now and that’s what’s important.” She kisses me lightly. “We can work on this together, just like you helped me. Now it’s my turn to help you.”

“But you already helped me so much…”

“That’s part of what love means to me, Max. To never give up on each other, as long you don’t give up on yourself. It’s the opposite of the lesson my parents tried to teach me.”

Her words warm me more than her embrace and I snuggle deeper into it. “I love you,” I whisper and kiss her shoulder. “So much.” And I kiss her jaw. “Let me show you.” And I kiss the base of her neck.

Movement in the corner of my eye draws my attention. I place small kisses across her neck and up to her chin, angling my head to see what caught my eye. Her hand caresses my hip and she purrs softly. “Show me,” she intones.

A blue butterfly rests on the edge of the futon, its wings closed. My hand slides along her arm to entangle with her fingers. My kisses descend her neck to her collarbone and lower. The butterfly takes to the air, loops a few times to alight on our joined hands.

In one moment there’s a billion billion possibilities. The next moment there is only me.

My breath catches, despite Chloe’s encouragement to breathe, as the soldiers surround us. Guns and hard faces point at us, at me and I can’t take it! My hands start fluttering as visions flood my mind. Visions of me capriciously taking life.

“No,” I moan. “No. I won’t! I can’t!”

“You aren’t that person,” Chloe whispers in my ear. Her arm is warm and tight around me, but it’s lost in my emotional turmoil. The world spins and falls away from me, my feet no longer firmly on a path.

“It’s happening,” I hear Lynn whisper and I look at her.

With a hard swallow, I manage to force out, “What’s happening?”

Her answer is to nod at the people directly opposite us. “Alignment,” she whispers. There’s a commotion in the troops and they part to let someone through.

A figure taller than the rest steps through the crowd. He stops a few feet in front of the soldiers and for a moment there are two people in the same space. The commanding soldier with his square jaw, hard face, and looming pose, and a being that defies description, all purple and shimmery which devours the light.

Then my sight adjusts and it’s only the soldier. He spits something from his mouth and grins at us as he takes off his sunglasses. It’s such a ridiculous stereotype that my fear momentarily abates and I almost laugh. What he says brings it back with a rush.

“We’ve orders,” he growls and his voice is so deep it booms. “To bring back one Max Caulfield, alive. Casualties are expected and unavoidable.” His grin widens and it reminds me of a wolf or… “Which makes this more enjoyable.”

He spits again and takes another step toward us. “Well, Max,” he says. “Or should I say ‘Max Effect’? Will you come of your own will… or” His predatory grin looms before me, shining brighter than it should. “Will you need some encouragement?”

There’s a gunshot and the earth near my feet explodes. Dirt and rocks and twigs and debris fly into the air and I stumble away from it.

“She died once and you brought her back. We can do that over and over until your power wears out. Or,” and he chuckles, “you give up and we take you away and your friends leave in peace.”

“In peace? As in dead,” Chloe throws back at him. She steps in front of me and all I can do is stand there numb. My hands still flutter and my mind is empty, except for one thought: I don’t want anyone to die.

The commander laughs at Chloe’s bravado and partially turns to look at his troops. “She’s a smart one, isn’t she!” The soldiers join in his laughter. When he turns back his face is hard. “What do you think?”

It doesn’t have to end like this.

No!

Let me out to play and those soldiers will never bother you again.

Go away!

Just a moment is all it takes. It won’t even be you doing it.

I won’t let you!

Over Chloe’s shoulder a flash of blue appears. It whirls and flits and lands on the commander’s shoulder. He doesn’t notice as he barks orders to his troops. They come closer and Chloe backs into me. Her arm holds me close to her back, shielding me from them.

A growl sounds in the back of my mind accompanied with a pushing. I grab my head as it feels like it wants to split in two.

Let me out!

No!

My breath is uncontrolled and shallow and my heart pounds and pounds and pounds! I grip the back of Chloe’s shirt to stop my hands, and bury my face into her. My vision isn’t completely blocked though and the bit of blue appears. The butterfly loops once and lands on my hand.

For a moment I see infinity through endless eyes. Then I’m in a ruined bathroom facing down the one who brought me here.

He steps into the bathroom, his eyes intent on me, but also not missing a thing. His white shirt is way too clean for a place like this.

“Chloe Price,” he smoothly says, with his eyes on both of us. “I heard you lost your mind. It seems the rumors were right.”

I step in between him and Max. “The only mindless person here is you,” I growl.

“You do know Max isn’t here.” He wears his arrogant smile that I want to wipe off his face. “Your friend Nathan killed her five years ago. Nosy bitch.”

His brown eyes flick between Lynn and myself. They’re the color of mud. Should be a good match for his future home six feet under.

“Do you narrate everything,” he asks with a chuckle. I ignore him, which causes his chuckle to turn into a laugh.

He moves his gaze to Lynn and he smiles. “Lynn Marsh. You look so much like your sister. I bet the camera loves you as much as it did her. I have the perfect setting for you.”

The howl sounds again, closer. It worms deep into my mind and bones and quickens my heart. An urgent need to flee claims me, but I won’t leave Max alone.

“Maybe another time,” Lynn says as she edges closer to the wall. He steps closer to us, his name on the tip of my tongue but refusing to enter the world.

He’s in my space now. His foul breath stings my eyes and nose but I don’t pull away.

“Work on your insults, little girl,” he growls.

And in that moment, I feel her.

He suddenly collapses at my feet, his body convulsing! Wires trail from him to a gun in Lynn’s hands.

“You tazed him,” I shout.

She nods in my direction and for a moment I think she wants me to do something. Then it snaps into place. There’s a hand on mine, a hand I shouldn’t be able to feel!

And I hear a voice silent for five long years and it’s too much! My heart swells with feelings unimaginable and wants to burst and break and collapse and do so much that I can’t comprehend.

“Chloe?”

And we become one.

Among the realities, the butterfly stirs; its wings slowly open and close. It walks a few cautious steps before taking to the air once again. Up, up, up it flies, its wings disturbing more than air.

A hand, clad in strange black armor, palm up, becomes a resting place.

Two hands joined together, bound by love and friendship and trust and more. The butterfly walks along them.

A hand raised to touch someone five years beyond her reach. Linked hand in hand, the butterfly opens its wings.

A face hidden from the dangers of the world. Protected by a friend sticking closer than a sister. Its tiny feet track along the arm.

And more. So many more. Infinitely more.

They are me.

They are not me.

I am nothing.

They are everything.

A soft smile. A kind and gentle person. A loving soul who gives freely of herself to better others. I took from you what I had no right to take.

A person who cares so much it hurts. Raw emotions that easily burn, and when they let you in, warms with a passion seldom seen. I didn’t give you what you deserved.

I don’t want to remember.

Memory is pain. It is fury and loud sounds and bright noises and knowledge. I’m not enough.

I never was.

But you never gave up on me, never lost faith in me. Neither of you, even though I don’t deserve that kind of trust or love.

I repaid you in failure. In loss.

What have I ever truly given you that wasn’t drenched in blood and misery and grief?

Wings flap. Time stirs.

It’s time to remember.

Time to own my mistakes and make them right.

Time to return to where it began.

Arcadia Bay was the beginning. But I shall be the end. I can do better. I will do better.

Forgive me. Please.