Chapter Text
Several days after that first conversation, technicians from the labs upstairs had descended and assembled a machine that looked like a combination of a Stargate with the Cerebro helmet attached, suspended in the center by thick cables. Max Caulfield paced around Central Access, unwilling to sit in her room and wait now that she had a plan. She knew she was making them nervous, so she kept the big conference table between them and tried to ignore the nervous looks they kept giving her.
Major David Madsen (and wasn’t that just a pain in the neck, Max thought) returned the day after Max “broke out” and set up the projector with a new file. Max tried to pay attention and sit still, but her gaze was drawn back again and again to the machine. Her way back home. Her way to Chloe, Kate, Victoria - she felt a warm glow in her stomach when she thought of them, balanced only by the cold splash of fear when she remembered how she’d failed each.
David sighed as she surreptitiously looked over her shoulder again. One of the technicians caught her eye; he smiled nervously and raised his hand in a little wave, then jolted as if shocked and quickly turned back to his work.
“All right,” David said. “It’s clear you can’t focus on the technical details right now.” He held up a hand to forestall protests Max hadn’t made. “Let’s switch.” He pulled the thumb drive out of the projector and plugged in another. A mug shot came up on screen.
It was Chloe, blue hair and all, holding a placard with a number and the words Arcadia Bay Police Dept at the top. She looked pissed, and there was a bruise forming on the left side of her face. Max’s eyes cut over to David, who shuffled some papers and would not meet her gaze.
It’s not him. Not this one, anyway. Max still wondered if every David was bound to be an abusive piece of shit. Her right palm itched.
“Chloe Price. Nineteen years old, shown here arrested for vandalism. No charges pressed, at least this time. Two months after Rachel Amber’s disappearance.
“According to our intelligence, she had a crush on Maxine “Max” Caulfield since they were teens, if not before. She did sleep with several boys, including-”
“That’s none of your business,” Max said. She glared at the side of his head. “Or mine.”
David nodded stiffly. “Regardless, after meeting Rachel Amber, the two began a romantic relationship that ended when Rachel was murdered by Mark Jefferson and Nathan Prescott.
“Chloe appears to be genuinely in love with Rachel; it’s likely that, if you can save Rachel, Chloe will not rekindle her feelings for you.”
Max nodded. It hurt, but it was the cost. She’d known that she wasn’t saving the Bay or Chloe for herself, not anymore. If she could have, she would have run away from the Storm with Chloe forever, living wherever the road and their dreams took them.
Those dreams were broken now, the road ripped up; this was her only way forward. There was always going to be a price. Max just had to be sure she was the only one who paid it.
David pressed the button. The projector clicked to the next photo of a young woman with dirty blond hair done up in a bun, sitting at a picnic table. She wore a sober, too-small black cardigan, with a simple white blouse and black skirt. She had a small, uncertain smile, in contrast to the energy pouring off of the girl with the ponytail, leaning on the table beside her. Dana and Kate were an unlikely pair, but Max loved the photo for its mix of melancholy and happiness, uncertainty and boldness, represented in each girl.
“Katherine Beverly Marsh,” David said. “If we’re going to start unraveling this knot, we might as well start at the easiest point.”
Max frowned. “Kate’s Christian. She’s amazingly sweet, but I’m pretty sure she’s not uh… y’know. Into me.” Max finished in a mumble.
“Exactly,” David said with a confident nod. “She’s buried it deep. Her faith, family, and lack of close friends means she should be the easiest to convince that the feelings she has for you are false, or a temptation - however you want to spin it…” David trailed off at Max’s look.
Max felt the itch in her right hand getting worse. She ground her teeth and glared, as much to force down the urge to use her powers, as it was due to outrage at David’s plan. “I am not,” she said between clenched teeth, “going to convince Kate to go deeper into the closet, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
David didn’t give any outward signs, beyond slightly widened eyes and a sudden, careful stillness, but Max could feel the current of his fear, borne backward to her from all the possible outcomes of this moment - most of them ended very badly for him.
“All right,” David said. “It was just an idea, based on our projections of the likely most successful strategy. But if you can nudge her towards someone else, that would work too. We believe it’s just an infatuation, albeit a powerful one. You’re one of her few friends at Blackwell, and the events leading up to the eleventh compound her feelings for you. You’d be best off making a move either before or at the party.”
Max tried to relax some of the tension in her jaw and shoulders. “Who’s next?”
Click: a photo of another blond girl, her hair cut short in a pixie cut. Her clothes were all designer, Max knew, even if she couldn’t recognize them. She was sitting on the steps to the girls’ dorm. The smirk on her face was cruel and self-satisfied, but she wasn’t looking directly at the camera; she’d been caught glancing to the left, and her facade of superiority had fallen off a bit.
Max thought she knew this photo. She’d taken it, planned to use it to jump back and convince Victoria to apologize to Kate, but never had the chance.
“Victoria Maribeth Chase,” David said. “This… might be a little awkward. But our psychologists suggest the best way to ‘turn her off’ is by playing off her insecurities and asserting dominance.
“Victoria’s personality indicates she’ll respond negatively to any challenges, physical, intellectual, or emotional. It’s distasteful, but by butting heads with her you should be able to change her feelings. The worst thing you can do is act submissive; she appears to relish the dominant position.” He coughed and quickly clicked away.
Max could feel her face getting warm, but she nodded, as if she discussed dom/sub stuff every day. “When do I go back?”
“I wanted to talk with you about that. The machine should be ready in another day, and we should do some tests - short ‘jumps’ - before trying to send you back so far, but before the week is over we should be good to go.
“Let’s discuss how you’ll deal with Jefferson as well…”
Max shuddered and held up a hand. David stopped speaking at once, thankfully. She still had trouble processing the dark room and Jefferson’s monstrous “art”. It was seared into her memory, burning her even when she closed her eyes, as if she’d stared too long at the sun. Like so many other awful things from That Week. Even her powers had failed her at the critical moment, left her unable to escape while Chloe lay dead in the junkyard.
Max got up, arms crossed, to pace and warm up from the chill that had gripped her, and finally noticed that not only was David not speaking, he wasn’t moving at all. He stared straight ahead at the chair she’d occupied like she was still there. She looked around; the technicians were still at their task, but none were moving, frozen in their last act.
Dog, another quirk. Well, let’s see if this one’s fixable.
Max brought up her hand, trying to ignore the awful itch deep in the center of her palm and spreading up her arm. She concentrated on time moving forward again, but nothing happened. She sighed and slapped her thigh as she lowered her arm. Fuck, if I can’t fix this, how long am I going to be stuck here?
As she walked around the room to burn off her frustration, Max’s thoughts drifted back to Kate. She really was the sweetest, kindest, gentlest person Max knew. Even Chloe, who hid the happy, hopeful girl she’d been inside a shell of anger, hadn’t been as absurdly… nice as Kate. On her first day at Blackwell, while Max had freaked and fretted over moving in, and making friends, and him, Kate had reached out. She’d made Max tea and let her play with her bunny, Alice, talking about her home and family and how she’d grown up sheltered but was excited to finally see the world. At least Blackwell’s little bit of it.
Kate had been the hare before the hawk for predators like Jefferson and Nathan. Her shy innocence had even brought queen bitch Victoria down on her, though Max still didn’t understand why.
That Victoria was a bully, Max had no doubt, but it seemed to be born out of her fear rather than real cruelty. Not that it mattered, if Victoria kept up her campaign against Kate, but if she could, Max wanted to help her too. Victoria was a skilled photographer, a nerd (not that she’d admit it), and a surprisingly stalwart friend. Talking with Taylor, and even Courtney, had shown her that. As much as she seemed to bully the two of them, she took Taylor to see her mother, and she was Courtney’s unofficial advocate, using her family connections to get the other girl opportunities in the fashion world.
Jefferson had mercilessly exploited that kindness mixed with cruelty, using her friendship with Nathan to encourage the worst of her behavior. On more than one rewind, Max and Victoria had wound up in the dark room together, and Max hadn’t forgotten the things Jefferson said to Victoria. He’d used her against Kate, and then brought her down to his lair to capture her guilt and despair.
Chloe was the only one he hadn’t touched directly, but Rachel’s death had hurt her so deeply that Max wondered if Chloe hadn’t also wanted to die after they found Rachel’s body. The kind, boisterous, loving friend she’d know was still in there, but buried under years of loneliness and trauma. Rachel might be able to alleviate at least some of that, if Max could actually save her - and convince her yes, she really was in love with Chloe.
Could she do it? Any of it? Saving any of them had seemed beyond her at the time, and for so long now.
And if she could, would she? It was one thing to say she’d pay the price, another to actually receive the bill, come due at last.
I will, Max decided. For Chloe, for Kate, for Victoria. I can do this.
With a feeling like the snap of a rubber band in her mind, time lurched forward once more.
“You’ll have to deal with him each time you go back,” David finally finished saying. He blinked and looked over to Max, standing in front of the new machine. “Max?”
“I’m ready,” Max said. I’m coming. I’ll save you. All of you.