Work Text:
August 5th, 2025
San Diego, CA
Midnight
Hey Rach,
It's been a really fucking long time since I've thought about you, like a decade, I think... Longer? In a way, it almost feels like yesterday, but I dunno anymore, my brain is hella messed up. Hang on a sec... I'll be right back. The duty nurse is coming in to check on me. Please, for the love of God I don't need any more fucking pills.
Sorry about that, dude, I'm back. As you can probably figure, I mean, if you were alive that is, I'm sitting here in the middle of the night because I can’t sleep anymore on this damn hospital bed. It's literally a pain in my ass, and I'm going absolutely nuts. I want outta here so God damn bad, but everyone I talk to refuses to tell me when I can go. You might be asking yourself: 'What the capital 'F' did Chloe Fucking Price do now to end up in yet another hospital room?' Yeah, go ahead and laugh your ass off, Amber, but I'm here because the events of the past ten days have really taken a toll on my mind; My official status is, based on what I read in my chart, "guarded", but that's just nerd-speak for "insane in the brain." What a surprise, right? But more about that later.
So, what am I doing to pass the time? I'm writing you; the dude from group therapy, otherwise known as 'The Crazies' made a suggestion to us all, that I should write down how I feel, memories, every gritty detail. I mean, they want the list? Where the hell would I start? It's all bullshit, right? Yeah, I think so too, except one of the other veterans suffering acute PTSD said that it actually helps by laying it all out as if writing to an old friend.
Okay, that's easy! Naturally, the first person I think about is Max, yeah, the same one I crushed on when you and I hung out. We're a couple now, not just best friends, and she's hella badass! But she already knows a lot about the shit I went through, so I dunno how much it will help to rehash my whole life to her... again. Anyway, I told Jenkins this exact thing, and she only shook her head. No wife, relatives, or family; I have to address it to someone remote, a person who I haven't interacted with for years. Just lay everything out, she says, never expecting any feedback, and thus no fear of judgement. She says to trust her, it's not about who receives it, but how I explain it; has something to do with cognitive reprogramming by connecting all my thoughts together. I hella don't see how it can help, but that's what I'm doing.
Problem is, I don't really have a lot of friends that meet the criteria.
Max, on the other hand, loves the idea, suggesting I write to you. You should have seen the excitement in her eyes; my adorkable better half really thinks it'll help. That was this evening, and I told her I'd sleep on it. Guess what? I'm sleepless, bored as fuck, and trapped at the Naval Medical Center for 'observation and debriefing.' Heh! That's the polite way of saying the docs want to make sure this ex-marine isn't gonna fucking short-circuit and go on to shoot and loot the place; though if you recall, I am a goddamned pirate, right?
Okay! Okay! I’ll behave, but if I do in fact blow a gasket, there's gonna be pillaging!
So, here's the thing, Rach. The last week or so has been tough. I don't know if you're looking down at me from whatever heaven or place people go after you die, but if you were watching then you know the shit that I was in.
Fuuuckk! If you were watching then you know of my original escape route too! Sure, go ahead and keep on laughing while you sit on your cloud, Rach! I would have done anything to get free; you have no idea what it was like! And then Sloane comes waltzing in and records me with one leg down the shitter! Yeah, you probably saw that, too. So did Max and the rest of the team; they've all poked fun at me about it, so why not you too?
The reason I'm writing to you now is that the whole experience messed me up, Rach. They... they made me believe everything like it was the real deal; I didn't even question it. Literally, they could have told me you and Dad were alive, and I would have totally believed it. Hell, there were people there in that camp that I know had been so conditioned that their reality was whatever those assholes wanted.
We used to hang out at the junkyard, or the lookout, or sneak into your room and tell each other of our dreams, lies, and visions of our future together. Now that you're dead, you probably have a totally different view on things, but, Dude, I'm having a hell of a time right now. I wake up and don't know if I'm dreaming or not. I need help, some sort sign that the real world still exists. I mean, I know I've got Maxie, and we've been spending every minute together, just being close, even if this bed is only big enough for one of us, we make it work. But still... I can't shake the thought that none of this is actually happening.
So... there it is. I've lost all sense of confidence in what I perceive. I just don't know what to do; I feel... almost... In a way, it's the same kinda feelings like when you disappeared, a great big box of fucked-up stuffed with loss, abandonment, lies, and betrayal, like Styrofoam peanuts. All of this is taking an unhealthy crap in my mind, swirling around like I'd really stepped into the shit hole for reals. I... I... need something to prove this place, time, and people are real. Max is all I have and while I can still feel her in the special way only we share, I'm having problems knowing how to tell the difference between dreams and the fucking real world.
Yeah... that's it, I guess. Except...
God, I miss you, Rach... I wanted you and Max to meet... we would have been three unstoppable pirates.
Oh, hang on a sec... that's right... you weren't into the pirate awesomeness like me and the First Mate. Dude, you gotta step up, get with the times! No wait, before you say anything, pirates are like a universal constant; they are always badass! So, get with the program! There's an opening for Second Mate; it's yours if you want it.
Okay, I've rambled a lot. Fuck, I don't even know if I've made any sense. I guess this shit really needed to come out, so maybe everything will start getting better. Before I go, though, I just want to say a couple of things.
Firstly, thanks for being there when Max wasn't. I wouldn't be alive, if my memories are real that is, if it weren't for you.
Second, I really wish you were here. You and Max would hit it off so fucking well; that's a fact. You could be part of the team we've built and be able to go fuck up the bad guys for real. Shit, you could be the 'big guns' of the squad.
And finally...
Well, I've been really bad about remembering your birthday. I went to see Dad a couple of years ago for Father's Day and finally started to get some closure. But for you... it's been something I've been putting off for sooooo long. Maybe I'm just a chickenshit coward.
For what it's worth, happy belated birthday, Rach, for 2013, through 2025. Sorry it's so late. You've still got a Max-approved place in my heart. Wish you were here.
--Chloe Fucking Price
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Western Canada, near Kamloops
September 2025
I fold up the handwritten note and slip it into my pocket. Tears are making the view across the field blurry, so I take a break from watching over the distant compound; my friends' party will still be going on when I resume overwatch. Instead, I turn my gaze back to the person standing just inside my hidden observation post.
"And you say Chloe wrote this?"
"Yeah, about two weeks ago, at least from my perspective." The lanky woman shrugs. "It's... complicated."
The girl stands still, arms crossed in front of her, totally unafraid and with conviction, like she's on a mission and has met one of her objectives; whatever they are. I might not understand her motivation, but her confidence is like I'm looking at a mirror of myself. She holds herself, even considering her obvious youth, like she has years of field experience: measured, intelligent, and with a cockiness that rival's Chloe.
I watch as she swipes her red-streaked blonde hair out of her awesome blue eyes; while we've never met, there is something familiar about her, and it tickles the back of my mind.
"Sorry if it's late."
I shrug, saying nothing. The fact that Chloe Price has called out to me for help touches my cold, dead heart in ways I've only ever felt when the two of us were together back in high school. It's been decades, and I've had a lot of time since then to think about my actions, especially considering my officially dead status, and how it changed and shaped the people around me. Chloe is no different, yet here she apologizes for missing my birthday.
Eventually, I'll have to reveal myself to her, Max and the rest of their team. It is kinda exciting, really, like I'm turning over a new chapter in my life. Maybe I should, like Chloe says, join them. They certainly seem to get into the kind of trouble that can use my special touch, though I might not go all in with that pirate stuff. Who knows? I guess we'll see how things go.
I wipe my eyes, clearing them and putting one back to the scope. Kate and Victoria seem to be wrapping up what certainly looked like an argument, while Chloe and Sloane, the muscular brunette wearing a cowboy hat and a unicorn floatie, harass each other. Then there is the shorter girl with freckles who I know is Max. There's something about her that isn't in the dossiers I've collected, a mystery. Nevertheless, it seems clear that we could easily become best of friends.
"So. How did you find me?" I ask my unexpected visitor without removing my eye from the spotting scope.
"It wasn't easy, Rachel, you really are very good at, uhm, being dead. You sorta don't exist. On the other hand, I happen to have a friend who is an expert in watching over things. It's kinda why this took so long to get to you. I had to get it just right."
"So, it's like a case of right-place, right-time?"
"Something like that. Let’s just say that with her help, I knew exactly where and, more importantly, when to show up."
"I see. So it is, what? Fate? Destiny?"
"Heh, heh. Funny you should say that..."
The girl’s laughter echoes in my ears so much that I pull away from the sight, then roll onto my back. Craning my neck around, the camouflaged OP is now empty. The woman has vanished like she's never been here.