Dec 19th, 2013 – 2nd Choice Timeline

“Oof.” Chloe stumbled as Max glommed onto her side, slipping back and bracing herself against her truck.

“Good to see you, too, doofus,” Chloe said, resting her chin on Max’s head. The little hippie had latched on tight, clinging to her as if it had been years since they had seen one another, rather than just twelve days. Max’s arms around her, Chloe found the tension of the past couple of weeks washing away, every reason for her departure and absence muted, and her resolve quickly fading into oblivion. She never should have left.

She smiled, momentarily settling into the warmth of Max’ embrace, as if that warmth alone could wage battle against the chill of the evening air. Winter had settled in, and Chloe wished that the Caulfields would just relent on that no-smoking inside policy, or that she gave less fucks about that policy and how violating it would impact her ability to see Max. I mean, I’d still see Max, she thought, even if I had to sneak in and steal her away, but the front door is so much easier. And it really was, other than having to tolerate the polite Caulfield veneer. She liked her aggression delivered more active and less passive; it provided a clarity to the battlefield, one that seemed to blur within the walls of that house. There was a phrase, however, about beggars and choosers, and this is where the tide had washed Chloe up; she had to make do — at least for a little while longer.

Pulling her cigarette to her lips and holding it there, Chloe freed her hands to hug Max back. Yeah, it had only been twelve days, but she also knew that prior to her leaving for her mom’s funeral, she hadn’t been apart from Max for longer than a school day. Being apart hurt too much. Being together, well, it made all the rage and doubt and pain vanish, smothered beneath the comfort of her touch.

Yet you chose to leave. You left her without a fucking word. You ghosted her, same as she ghosted you. Twelve days or five years, it doesn’t matter. Max should be just as furious with you as you were with her. Instead the little goop is clinging to you for dear life.

It didn’t make sense, but maybe it didn’t have to. Max loved her, flaws and all, and with so little to hold onto right now, perhaps that was enough. If she could just let it be so.

Chloe tightened her hug around Max with a gentle squeeze, then let go pulling the cigarette from her lips and letting out a long, slow exhale. The smoke rose on that exhale catching in small eddies of wind and swirling lazily upwards. Chloe kept her eyes on that rising smoke; it was easier than looking into Max’s sad doe eyes. She knew she had hurt her. She knew that she was shit and that Max deserved better. She didn’t need that affirmed by the hurt in her girlfriend’s eyes.

Her girlfriend. The phrase still sat heavy in her gut. She loved Max, and she loved that Max loved her, but their relationship had come at such a high cost. A whole town dead — nope, nope nope.

Chloe let out a sigh, hoping to expunge that constant nagging guilt that rose up whenever she considered the circumstances of her reunion with Max and the life to which it had led. They couldn’t know if sacrificing herself would have prevented the storm — if Max and Chloe were truly responsible or just more debris caught in the tempest that had consumed Arcadia Bay. Yet they could, couldn’t they? Max could turn back time and they could have those answers. What did it say about them both that neither had made that choice?

Chloe pushed her chin down against Max’s head, breathing in the vanilla scent of her shampoo, then gently ran her fingers through Max’s hair.

“I’m back, Maximus,” she mumbled, the words barely more than a whisper, a promise made more to herself than to the girl wrapped around her waist. Still avoiding full eye contact, and the pain that she knew must be waiting there in that shared gaze, Chloe found her own eyes wandering, shifting from her girlfriend glommed onto her side to the Caulfield’s gray Prius in the drive, to their meticulously manicured lawn, and up to that front porch entry, Ryan Caulfield standing in the threshold — watching.

Fucking creeper.

“Hey, Mr. C.” Chloe waved with a smile, but it was only skin deep. Kill them with kindness . Her mother would have taken that approach. She often had, even if her disputes with her daughter had been more direct. With strangers, however, Joyce had piled on that Southern charm and smothered them beneath a friendly facade. She had known how to trigger someone’s own sense of guilt or shame without ever calling them out.

Chloe, on the other hand, had always preferred the direct approach. In this case, however, Max was caught in the middle, so she had learned to adapt; to follow in Joyce’s footsteps, at least where the Caulfields were concerned.

“Good to see you,” she added, still smiling.

“You too,” Ryan said. “Welcome back.” He waved at her with his own false smile, then turned and went inside.

Alone at last, Chloe pivoted her attention back to Max. Her Max. My Max. She braced herself for the pain, and for the anger, then lowered her gaze to meet Max’s own. Only their eyes did not meet, the smaller girl still nestled into her, latched onto Chloe’s side and clinging for dear life, her face smothered just above Chloe’s breasts.

“Hey goop. You okay?”

Of course she’s not okay you asshole. You fucking left without a word. Cause of course you did. Because you can’t be happy. You can’t have one good thing. No, you’ve got to go and self sabotage, because why not? Make her leave, instead. Because of course she will. She should. Why wouldn’t she leave you? You let a whole town die — she let a whole town — nope, nope, nope…

Chloe took a deep breath, once again forcing back thoughts of Arcadia Bay, and her usual musings of future abandonment, then braced Max by the shoulders and maneuvered to push the smaller girl back from her so that she could get a good look into those eyes. Max didn’t budge; she only clung tighter and buried herself deeper into Chloe’s chest.

Chloe didn’t mind a little PDA, but this was ridiculous, and desperate… and, the more she thought about it, frightening. This whole time, Max hadn’t said a single thing. She hadn’t greeted her back; she hadn’t acknowledged a single word from Chloe; she had done nothing but cling.

Chloe gripped Max tight by the shoulders, trying to force her attention. The girl still didn’t budge. It wasn’t right. And what the hell was she wearing? That’s my Jane Doe shirt, isn’t it? And pajama bottoms? She has to be fucking freezing.

And she was, wasn’t she? The girl trembled as she clung to her, and that was just too much – the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. The clinging, the silence, the barefoot girl trembling as she held onto her. Nope. Bundle all of this with that text… Chloe glared to the empty porch where Ryan had stood mere moments before, then turned her attention back to Max at her side.

“Did something happen while I was gone?”

All the worry, all the hurt, and all the self-loathing that had been swirling about poisoning her, had suddenly muted. A new emotional whirlwind rose up to replace it, one dominated by anger and suspicion. And revenge. I’ll fucking destroy them. If those fuckers did this, I’ll burn their lives to the ground and salt the earth. To hell with killing them with kindness; I’ll destroy them outright. 

“Did your dad say something?” Chloe asked.

And she knew it was Ryan. Him and Vanessa. They had been eating away at Max since the moment they returned from Arcadia Bay – needling her here, gaslighting her there, and always under the veil of kindness and love, but Chloe knew manipulation when she saw it. Upon arriving at Chez Caulfield two months prior, Chloe had expected a warm greeting from a family whom she had once considered her second home; and she had received that greeting, true. Yet, it hadn’t taken long to see below the surface and tear apart that false facade. The Caulfields maintained an image, one that had fooled Chloe in childhood, but now she saw through it and what she saw beneath she did not like. Not in the least.

“What did those shits do?”

Max shook her head, a languid movement, barely noticeable with no life behind it. This didn’t make any sense. If it wasn’t the Caulfields…

“Kristen? Fern?”

Max didn’t really have many friends — half a dozen at most, including Chloe. Yet even then, Chloe knew that of her own volition, Max wouldn’t have really reached out to any of them. No, without Chloe there forcing her out into the world it was likely that only Kristen or Fern would have seen Max. They were the only ones that seemed to have that vested interest; the ones close enough that they would drag her out whether the hipster wanted to go or not. Still, as annoying as those two could be, they didn’t seem likely to actually hurt Max. They cared for her too much. And sure, they were pretentious, but they weren’t complete shits.

Max shook her head, again; this time with a little more force.

So, it wasn’t Kristen or Fern, and it wasn’t the Caulfields. Best as Chloe could see, that left only one option. She had done this. Chloe had done this herself.

“I’m sorry, Max. I thought you understood,” she started, but that was bullshit. That was laying this on Max and she couldn’t do that. No, this was the outcome that she had wrought herself. Her actions had done this, and Chloe needed to own up to it. “No… no. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone. I should’ve come back for you. I just… I… fuck!”

Finally Max lifted her face up to Chloe’s own, her eyes watery, but also full of concern. As Max’s gaze settled upon her, Chloe saw the girl’s hand rise, tentatively, before brushing softly against her hair, then retreating back into that tight grip around her waist, almost as if she were afraid of rebuke. For a moment, Chloe lost herself in the echoes of Max’s fingers teasing through her hair even as that hint of fear nagged at her, but only for a moment. At last Max spoke, and Chloe woke from her spell.

“Tell me about you,” Max said.

“About me?” Chloe cocked a questioning eyebrow at her girlfriend.

Max simply nodded, her eyes still locked upon her.

This made no sense. She and Max had been through hell together. They had survived that week, them against the world: finding Rachel, discovering the Dark Room, surviving Jefferson, and even facing off against the Storm. They had fled, two of the only survivors of the tornado that wiped out Arcadia Bay, and they had grieved together, sharing not just in their survivor’s guilt (as Max’s therapist described it), but also in their own unique blend of anguish. When your girlfriend was a time traveler, no event was set in stone; any catastrophe that you didn’t prevent might as well have been one you caused, and as such, such events came with it a sense of culpability that was near impossible to shake.

Yet the two of them had weathered the worst of it together. They had used the past two months to heal, and to be there for each other. They had bonded as friends and something much, much more. Outside of Rachel, Chloe had never been more open with anyone. What else was there to tell at this point?

“Not much more to say, Maxi-taxi. You kind of know all my shit. Plus, don’t forget you sent up the flag. So, what’s the 411?”

“No,” Max said, loosening her grip from Chloe’s waist and sliding back against the truck. Even though she was no longer glommed onto her, Chloe noticed that Max still leaned against her side, still sought out her touch. This wasn’t like her. This whole display felt wrong, somehow.

Her gaze focused out beyond Chloe, to the road and the distant horizon, Max pressed on. “You first. I know it’s cheesy, but I just want to hear about you. Where you’ve been, what you’ve been up to, the stories you’ve collected along the way.”

As she stared out at that road, clearly lost in some deep internal bullshit — probably full of guilt and self-loathing and all the nonsense Chloe had fruitlessly been trying to convince her to leave behind — Max shivered. And not just some quick tremor, as if caught off guard by a momentary gust of wind, but a full, teeth-clattering, whole body tremble, one that once started couldn’t be stopped. The girl’s clothes flapped in the breeze, loose and baggy, and her bare toes danced across the cool cement of the drive. The cold had to be eating at her.

“The stories I’ve collected along the way?” Chloe asked, keeping her concerns to herself. Max could get strong-willed when you pointed out the obvious. Best to go the subtle route than call her out directly. Chloe tousled Max’s hair. “Fuckin’ hipster. Fine. I think I can make do telling you about my ne’er do well self and my amazing adventures, but how about we relocate first. I’m fucking freezing out here.”

Chloe shivered and stamped out her cigarette, wondering how Max could stand the cold at all. Chloe hid beneath layers, including her father’s leather jacket, and yet she still felt the freezing chill of the night air nipping at her, frosting her breath and numbing her fingers. She had to get this girl inside.

“Here.” Chloe slipped out of her jacket and braced it over Max’s shoulders. She wanted to stuff the girl into it, but Max refused to push back from Chloe enough for her to get Max’s arms through the sleeves, so she settled for draping the jacket over her like a cape. That done, Chloe reached into the truck bed hauling out her duffel. “What say you lead the way, Long Max Silver?”

“Aye, aye,” Max said with a smile, finally pushing off from Chloe and tightening the jacket across her, huddling into its warmth. Glad as Chloe was to see Max slipping into her jacket, she couldn’t help but to worry at the similarity she saw in Max’s smile and that fake welcoming demeanor of her parents. Both were lies. In this case, Max’s smile didn’t reach her eyes, and Chloe was all too aware of that discrepancy. Following her girlfriend inside, Chloe felt a flicker of fear; Max was hiding something from her and she didn’t like that one bit. Whatever it was, it did not speak of glad tidings ahead.

Max slid onto her bed, perching just over the edge, and swayed gently back and forth, as her numb feet slid one over the other and her toes flexed against the carpet. She shivered, the cold still clinging to her goose-pimpled flesh, and huddled into Chloe’s jacket, hugging it tight around herself with one hand as her other danced over the bedspread beside her. Her fingers played there, tapping out her anxiety. It was as if every nerve in her body were shouting and urging her to flee, yet her head was urging her to stay, and so she found herself caught in a manic dance of fight or flight, with no clue which would be the victor. She did know that if she kept seated, however, Chloe would soon join her on the edge of the bed. The edge of her bed. Her and Chloe sitting together on her bed .

They had shared a bed so many times in childhood, and even then in that week, yet for some reason as she thought about Chloe joining her there now, she felt her cheeks flush, and caught herself averting her eyes from the girl of her affections — the girl who was right there in her room… right there by the door pulling out… a doorstop?

Chloe grinned. “Picked this up on my travels. Portable door lock.” With a great show of it, Chloe kicked the doorstop snug under Max’s door, then used her heel to push it even further until it would no longer budge. “There. Some guaranteed privacy for once.”

Max squirmed. Whatever the story was there, she hated that the lock on her door had been removed; yet now that missing sense of privacy had been restored — only with Chloe Price alone with her. Alone with her in her room.

Max vaulted from the bed and plopped into her desk chair, swiveling it so that it pointed back towards the bed, which was the only other realistic sitting space in the entirety of the room. She couldn’t sit there right beside Chloe knowing that Chloe thought she was someone else; knowing that she was in fact a stranger to this Chloe. She had to tell her, yet she knew the truth. She’ll leave. She couldn’t tell her. I have to. Her mind jumped in an infinite loop between the two scenarios – the need to tell Chloe the truth, and the fear of Chloe leaving again. It had to happen. Max had to be open with her; yet all she wanted was to prolong this moment; to be with Chloe, to sit with her here so close and just enjoy for a moment what could have been. She didn’t have the courage to speak up and she knew it. She knew something else, too. I’m a monster, she thought, and there was no doubt in her mind of it. Still, she kept silent, shivering and huddling into Chloe’s jacket, her mind still dancing in that constant loop. I should tell her. I have to. She’ll leave. I can’t. I should tell her. Over and over, ad nauseam.  

A heavy thunk jolted Max from her thoughts as Chloe swung her duffel onto the mattress. The bag dropped into the exact space Max had just abandoned, and, for a moment, Max found herself puzzling over where Chloe was going to sit. There was only the bed and the chair, but she made no motion to drop down by her duffel. Because of course she wouldn’t. Chloe would have other plans.

Chloe stretched, popping her knuckles ( and why did that just make me blush ) then sauntered her way over to Max’s side, sliding up the rolltop and hopping up onto the desktop, kicking her legs out as she did. Max watched enthralled, and wouldn’t have been surprised if her mouth had fallen agape as her gaze followed Chloe’s every movement.

“So, my ne’er do well adventures, eh?” Chloe tapped at Max’s chair with her toe, sending the girl in a light spin and swiveling the chair until the two locked eyes.

“I ‘spose,” Max mumbled, averting her gaze. She could feel the heat in her cheeks. It stood in stark contrast to the cold that still clung to her otherwise.

“Hey.” Chloe reached down and tapped lightly at Max’s chin, tilting her face up towards her own. “What’s up, girl? I mean, not that mousy Max isn’t hot as fuck, but what’s going on here?”

Hot as what , Max thought. Fuck my life. I’m so not prepared for this… whatever this is.

Rather than voice those fears, Max sought an escape.

“Ne’er do well adventures, first.”

“Meh. Your call.” Chloe leaned back against the desk, glancing about the room as she did. “Not much has changed here, I see.”

“Not really.”

“Huh.” Chloe shifted and Max noticed the moment that Chloe’s eyes locked on her journal. Her open journal where she had been recording her missing months in Arcadia Bay. No. That wasn’t happening.

Max snatched the book, flipping it shut and pocketing it away in a drawer.

“Whoa, Maxi-taxi. Got something saucy there?” What was with that smirk on Chloe’s lips? Chloe flicked her tongue out over those lips, wetting them, and the world blanked as Max focused on that tiny movement, on that flick of her tongue, on those wet lips — on that mischievous smirk.

“Max?”

Snapping back to reality, Max shook her head. “What? No. Ew.”

“Ew? Saucy is ew? What are we, twelve?”

“It’s nothing. Really. Just private.”

“Chill, Max. I’m not going to read your diary. I’m a delinquent, not an asshole.” Chloe rolled her eyes at the word delinquent, and Max could tell there was some hidden message there — some shared moment that the two had now never shared. She really had to tell her.

“I’m sorry.” Even as she said the words, she knew them to be an apology for that unspoken wrong. She also knew Chloe would see it as no more than her usual over apologetic self.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Chloe tilted at her chin again, until once more their eyes met. Just as Max had suspected, this Chloe had no clue why Max was sorry. She simply stared down into Max’s eyes, and Max stared back into hers as long as her conscience would let her hold that gaze.

“You know you never have to apologize to me.”

“Uh huh.” Max nodded weakly, at last faltering and turning her eyes down upon her own hands fidgeting in her lap. “Adventures,” Max added, still seeking an escape from the ever present guilt bidding her to tell this girl the truth; to let her know that her girlfriend was no more – replaced now by a Max that knew nothing of their time together.

“Cool, cool. I hear you.” Chloe leaned back, resting her shoulders against the top shelf of the rolltop desk. “So like, from my trip to Arcadia Bay on?” she asked.

“Arcadia what?” Max couldn’t help but let the shock bleed into her voice. Why’d Chloe go back to the Bay?

“Arcadia Bay. You know the one.” Chloe’s voice trailed off, muting whatever sarcastic response had been on the tip of her tongue, and her eyes lost their luster as the entire tone of the conversation sombered instantly. They had hit a third rail and only danger lay in this direction.

“Um…” Struggling to find a reasonable response, Max studied Chloe. Her girlfriend ( apparently ) shifted awkwardly on the desktop, no longer able to look Max in the eye. She’d only been with Chloe for a few minutes and she’d already fucked things up. Why was she like this? Why was she such a terrible friend? Why was she such a fuck-up?

Letting out a deep breath and collecting herself, Max shifted in her chair. As she did, Chloe slipped from the desk and made her way over to her duffel.

Yep. Way to botch it, Max. You’re already driving her away.

As Max mentally berated herself, she kept her gaze focused on Chloe sorting through her duffel. After what must have only been a minute or two (but seemed so, so much longer) Chloe pulled out an iPod and some sort of speaker dock. When’d she get that? 

Chloe made her way to the end table, the silence stretching out between the two of them, then knelt down and began working with a tangle of cords and plugs, swearing under her breath as she did. Max wanted to say something, anything, but she was sure she would just make things worse. Somehow they had already found themselves on the topic of Arcadia Bay, so of course everything had gone to shit.

Max huddled into Chloe’s jacket, breathing in the smell of cigarettes and leather as she did. As the scents washed over her, for a moment she let her worries fade and tried instead to ground herself in the moment. The cold still bit at her toes and fingers especially, but she could feel a little warmth flooding back in as the interior heat began to battle the chill that had sunk in. Her pajamas hung loose from her thin frame, but there was a comfort in the softness of the flannel fabric – not to mention how good it felt to be wearing Chloe’s shirt. It wasn’t just the scent of it, nor how loosely it fitted being much too large for her, but more just the thought of it, of wearing Chloe’s shirt. The act alone lifted her spirits and left Max light and fluttery. She’d never dated anyone before ( still haven’t, Maxi ), and though she had worn Chloe’s clothes before, now it seemed to carry with it a foreign intimacy that sent Max’s mind racing. She eased open Chloe’s jacket, taking in the neon pink of the lettering on the shirt beneath, bright and stark against the faded black, and as she did, she felt a smile pierce the gloom that had settled over her.

“That looks good on you.”

Max glanced up to find Chloe sitting across from her on the edge of the bed, her duffel and its contents now shunted aside.

“Your shirt?” she asked.

“No – that looks hella hot, of course – but I was talking about the smile.”

Hella hot? Dog, what have I gotten myself into?

“You there, Maximus?”

Max shook her head, trying to clear the dazed fog that had settled in. Between her excitement over seeing Chloe, her guilt at not telling her that she was not her Max, and the constant barrage of subtle and not so subtle flirtations, Max just couldn’t seem to stay focused.

“Yeah. Sorry,” Max managed, then paused, noticing the music playing in the background. “Crosses?”

“That’s the one.”

Max thought back to Chloe lighting up and dancing on her bed, calling for Max to dance as this same song played over Chloe’s hi-fi. “Our first dance,” she half said, half whispered.

“I ‘spose so.”

“I always knew you were a big softy.”

“Tell anyone, I’ll deny it.”

Max chuckled.

Chloe ran a hand through her hair, Max watching as her fingers pushed back through those glorious blue locks. Was Chloe nervous?

“So,” Chloe started again. “Anyway, I just thought, with your dad commandeering your old turntable and all, it was time we got some music up in here.”

Huh, Max thought. She was going to have to look into that and see where her turntable had wound up. Of course, Chloe’s Max already had those answers, so it was best not to press the matter now.

“Thanks.” Max swallowed the lump forming in her throat. It was as if with every new discovery the lie grew and with it so grew as well the guilt pressing in on her. She could feel its weight bearing down, crushing her.

“So, um… about the funeral.”

“Fuck.” Chloe dropped back onto the bed, bouncing slightly into the bedspread until at last she stilled, buried there amongst the decorative pillows and the scattered debris and clothes from her duffel. As Chloe stared towards the ceiling, Max watched, hugging herself tight again, the cold seeming to surface once more, stealing in as Chloe’s jacket slipped from her shoulders. The quiet stretched on until at last Chloe finally shattered it.

“Can we, I don’t know, maybe not rehash that… the funeral and all?”

Max lifted her feet up into her seat and hugged her knees to her chest. “Sure. Yeah. Sorry. No need.”

Why am I like this?

She’d never had this much trouble speaking with Chloe before; not really. Sure, their reunion in Chloe’s truck had been tense, and yeah, Chloe had chewed her head off a number of times that week, but this felt different somehow. Then Max had only just begun to understand her feelings towards Chloe; now she’d had months to work them out, to understand how much she loved the girl, and to grieve her death. Then to find herself face-to-face after all this time and to discover that they were, in fact, dating. It was as if she feared that any misstep and this would be over. Chloe would leave and she’d be alone and she’d be heartbroken before even knowing what it meant to be in love… and, more, to be loved in return.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

Why’d I say that? Don’t pick at the wound. Never pick at the wound. 

Chloe groaned and Max huddled tighter into herself, closing her eyes as she did.

“I so wish your parents could chill on the no smoking policy.” Chloe’s voice came out rattled. Max could hear the tension in it, and instantly she knew Chloe was suppressing something. Anger. She’s angry.

“I’m sorry.”

“Fuck, Max! Stop apologizing.”

The force of the words hit Max like a slap to the face. She shook, wincing her eyes shut, and pressed her forehead into her knees. She’d done it. She’d pissed Chloe off. She’d ruined it. Of course she had. She didn’t know this Chloe. She wasn’t her Max. She couldn’t play at this charade. It was doomed to fail.

Her jaw clenched tight, locking shut with her nerves, and Max could feel the tension building. She knew she had to tell her. She had to let Chloe know, and if that was the end of this, then that was the end. She deserved it. Across the room she heard her mattress creak, and she could just make out Chloe’s feet hitting the floor. We’re going to have it out, aren’t we?

She couldn’t take it. She wasn’t ready for this to be over. Max hugged herself tighter and suddenly all she could focus on was the cold and she shook and pulled into herself as much as she could.

A hand fell onto her shoulder and as it did, Max couldn’t help but to jump a little at the contact. She didn’t mean to; she was just so tense and so scared. Of course, Chloe didn’t need this bullshit. Chloe had lost her mother, had lost everyone… even her own Max, whether she knew it or not.

“Dude, you’re shaking.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, fuck. Look at me.”

Hesitantly, Max opened her eyes, just barely lifting her head from her knees to look up at Chloe.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.” Chloe’s hand pressed tight into Max’s shoulder and she could feel the warmth of that hand through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. She eased into it, unconsciously angling her head down to the top of that hand, her eyes slipping shut as she did. The warmth of it felt so good against the cold of her cheek.

“Holy hell. You’re freezing, girl.”

“Little cold,” Max muttered, still pressing her cheek down against Chloe’s hand.

“Nope. Not doing this. Get up.”

“Huh?” Max’s eyes shot open and she felt the panic returning.

“Take my hand, doofus.”

Not willing to argue, Max took Chloe’s hand. Gently, Chloe eased her up from her chair, wrapping her arm over Max’s shoulder. First she led her over to the light, flicking off the overhead, leaving only the dim glow of a bedside lamp, and then, Chloe led her over to the bed. Pausing only briefly, she ripped the covers back, then pointed at the mattress.

“In.”

“Yes, ma’am?” Max crawled into bed curling up and reaching down to pull up the covers.

“Hold up.”

Chloe kicked off her shoes, then climbed in behind Max, pulling the covers up over both of them.

“There,” Chloe said. “Now, we need to warm you up.” Chloe stretched back against the pillows, and pulled Max over until Max was nestled up into Chloe’s side, her head resting just above Chloe’s chest and tucked slightly against her chin. It was so very wrong, and Max knew it. Why couldn’t she just tell her? This Chloe had to know, right? She knew that her Max would be replaced one day; they would have figured that out, right?

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said. “I shouldn’t have snapped. You just… you know how much that funeral got in my head. I just… I can’t… I don’t want to…”

“It’s okay,” Max whispered, nudging even closer into Chloe, and hating herself as she did.

“No. No, it’s not.” Chloe kissed the top of Max’s head, and Max’s whole world did a somersault. She had wanted this for so long, needed it, and now here it was. She was with Chloe…

… and it was all wrong.

“I can’t talk about that tonight, but I can tell you I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed away. Not this long. You deserve better than that.”

No. No, she didn’t. Chloe deserved better.

“Chloe. There’s something… something I need to tell you.”

Chloe squeezed Max tight. “Let me finish first, okay?”

Max hated how relieved she felt hearing those words. She had finally decided to tell Chloe, to let her know that she was not her Max, yet she was weak, and she seized on the opportunity to delay the inevitable.

“Sure,” she said, easing back into her lie by omission.

Chloe ran her fingers through Max’s hair as she spoke. “It’s just… I had to get away. I had to, I had to figure it out, you know. Every day we’d wait. We’d laugh and we’d cry and we’d get up to whatever shit you let me drag you into, but then every Monday through Friday, you’d head off to that school and I’d just… I’d just be here wondering… wondering if you’d be coming home or not.”

“Of course, I’d come home,” Max said. “You’re… you’re my number one priority, Chloe.”

“Sap.” Chloe tousled Max’s hair. “That’s not what I mean. Look, I’m sorry that I snapped. Really. And I’m sorry that I left. That I stayed gone for so long. You do deserve better. But you also deserve to understand why.”

“I get it, Chloe. Your mom, you needed to say goodbye.”

“Fuck, no. That was an excuse. I made my peace with Joyce a long time ago. And that whole shitshow in Newport. That wasn’t for her. God. No, I don’t want to get into that. But for once it was me leaving, you know. Not waiting for you to come home, but trying to take charge of my life again.”

“I’m holding you back.”

“What? God. Fuck no.” Chloe shifted up against the pillows. As she did, Max stayed still, curled under the blankets, her head shifting down along Chloe’s shirt and coming to rest against her breast. Oh dog. This is hella awkward.

Chloe’s face grew serious as Max stared up at her.

“You never hold me back. Not ever. Don’t ever think that. Okay?”

“Okay.” It came out more question than statement, but it was the best Max could offer.

“No. I just, I’ve been so afraid to leave. So afraid to ever be away. We have this big ticking clock hanging over us, you know. We don’t know when it’s going to strike midnight, but we know that when it does…” Chloe choked up, and Max felt her own fear rise with Chloe’s cracking voice.  “When it does,” Chloe continued, “when that bell tolls, well, you’re going to be gone. You’ll be gone and Max Prime will be here and I’ve been sitting still in fear, and I just, I couldn’t live like that any more. I had to prove to myself that I’d be okay… that I could keep going, no matter what the future brings.”

Fuck. Yep, Max thought. You’ve really fucked this one up. 

“But that whole time, I wanted to be back here. I wanted you with me. I was afraid of staying away… I just… I had to set some things in motion, first.”

“Some things?”

“Tomorrow, Max. Tonight, can we just lay here. I just… I’ve been stupid being gone this long. I missed you so much, I just want to enjoy this time, while we have it, you know. Before… before she comes back.”

“That other me.”

“Yeah. Prime. That bitch. The one that’s going to take you away from me.”

“Okay,” Max said, her voice wavering. “But when she does come…”

“No. Not tonight. Okay? I just got back. And I’m not leaving again, but tonight, tonight I just need it to be you and me. Her… she can wait. Right?”

Max remained silent. What could she say? Nothing seemed right.

“Right?” Chloe asked again, and Max could hear the desperation in that plea.

“Sure,” she said, even as inside she felt herself breaking.

“Good.”

Chloe gave Max another kiss on her head, and rolled over, turning until they laid back-to-stomach, Chloe spooning Max, and hugging her tight about the waist. “And don’t forget…” Chloe whispered. “You’re the one that called me back. Tonight, it’s just you and me… but tomorrow, tomorrow you’re going to tell me why you raised the red flag, right?”

“Right,” Max said, and her heart dropped. How could she tell Chloe, now? What had Chloe called her? Max Prime. That bitch. The girl hated her, hated the very idea of her.

As Chloe snuggled up behind her, Max stared off into the dark of her room. Silence fell over the two of them, as they lay together taking comfort in their touch and proximity – in their shared warmth. Slowly, Chloe’s soft caresses faded and drifted away, until at last Chloe’s gentle snores sounded behind Max. Sleep, however, would not come for Max. Not now. As she lay there listening to Chloe snore and felt her huddling into her, all Max could really hear were those pleas and the fear that had resided within Chloe’s voice.

She was the thing that Chloe feared. She was the moment that Chloe dreaded, and she had stolen her Max away from her. Would she ever be able forgive her? Would she ever be able to forgive herself for not being there in her Max’s final moments?

Why couldn’t it ever just be simple? Why couldn’t the world ever just grant them one tiny reprieve? But of course it wouldn’t. And tomorrow, she’d have to deal with consequences.

There were always consequences.