Chapter Text
The first word that left Max’s mouth, before she even tried to open her eyes, was Chloe’s name.
Of course she wanted to know where she was, and if she was okay, and safe, and whether her plan had worked or not, and whether she had made the right choices or not, and what were the consequences of her actions, and if the Storm was still coming, and in what fucked up reality she had landed this time…
But she needed to know where Chloe was.
When she did open her eyes, they were hit with darkness. She was sitting down on a chair — her heart skipped a beat, and a cold feeling settled inside her chest, until she realized she wasn’t tied down — and when she managed to recognize her surroundings, the knot in her stomach started slowly untying.
She was in Chloe’s room.
After everything that had happened — god, so many time travels, and rewinds, and going backs, and bad decisions, and everything was starting to blend in, and it was hard to know what was real and what wasn’t anymore — she was half expecting to wake up in the Dark Room again. Or in the middle of the Storm. Or with a dead Chloe in her arms.
But she was in some of Chloe’s pajamas, and she smelled like body soap and shampoo, and her hair still felt a bit wet, and she could hear the sound of the shower running in the other room, and she was safe. She was home. Nothing bad could reach her right now, not when she was right where she belonged.
She checked the time on Chloe’s computer. It was late in the evening, pushing midnight, and it was still Friday the eleventh, but soon it wouldn’t be, in just a few minutes, and they were so close. So close. This hell of a week was almost over, and Max could feel the tension in her body. Thick, and heavy, and every-fucking-where,and she couldn’t wait for it all to vanish away at last.
She jumped when the door opened, but then, all the anxiety in her melted away, and she felt so light, so relieved right now, more than she had ever felt in her entire life, she almost wanted to cry. Chloe. She was here. She was safe, she was okay, she was beautiful, god she was—
“You’re alive,” Max breathed out, voice so shaky, and so broken, but so, so thankful, and when they locked eyes, she felt like sobbing.
“You’re back,” Chloe replied softly, and she opened her arms half a second before Max threw herself at her, holding her tight, like she’d disappear if she ever dared to let go.
She felt Chloe’s whole body untense in her arms, and suddenly, it was hard to blink back the tears that kept stinging her eyes, but Max couldn’t care less. This was real, Chloe was here, in her arms, she was alive, and Max never ever wanted to let her go again, and she tightened her grip on her clothes, like Chloe could never be close enough, and she couldn’t, and Max was shaking . When Chloe hugged her back, she was ready to fall apart.
“Are you okay?” Chloe asked in her hair, gently, and softly — god, when did she get so soft? —, and she was holding Max almost as tightly and closely and desperately as Max was holding her, and she felt so much relief her head was almost spinning, and her words were stuck in her throat, and she nodded frantically against her shoulder.
It took Max a while to bring herself to let go — she didn’t want to, she wanted to keep Chloe here forever, safe, in her arms, where nothing was threatening her, god, she was so tired of losing her — but when she did, and her eyes met hers again, she sighed deeply, her body finally relaxing.
Chloe didn’t allow her to go too far away anyway, she kept her there, cupping her face and looking at her like she wanted to commit every detail of her face to memory, and her gaze was so full of concern and care, and Max felt like melting on the spot.
“You took so long, Max, I was— I…fuck, I was worried! Are you— How do you feel?”
“I’m okay,” Max whispered weakly, eyes never leaving Chloe, as if she would vanish the second she’d look away. “I’m okay, I promise. I just— god, I thought I had lost you for good this time…”
“Okay. Okay. It’s fine, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m right here,” she replied immediately, pulling her back in, and Max exhaled shakily against the crook of her neck, clinging onto her shirt, eyes fluttering shut.
“Never let me go,” she asked— begged , voice barely above a whisper, and Chloe’s grip tightened so much she felt like they might fuse together, and become one, and it wasn’t close enough, it was never close enough, but it would do.
When Max pulled away again, it felt like she was tearing herself away from Chloe’s arms. She took a deep breath, and she was shaking, but it was okay. She was okay. She looked back into Chloe’s eyes, and was hit with a wave of warmth and affection so strong that it left her dizzy.
“I need you to tell me everything that happened while I wasn’t there. You remember, right?”
“Yeah,” Chloe nodded a bit. She was still looking at her like she had a hard time believing she was actually here, and Max couldn’t blame her, because she was sure she was doing the same thing. “We came back home, and we told David about Jefferson— you were right, he believed us right away. He got the police, and they arrested him and they…they also found…they found Rachel,” she paused. Max’s heart broke a little inside her chest. Chloe had to clear her throat a bit before speaking up again. “And then, the cops came here, and they asked you a shitty load of questions, and— Nathan’s dead already, but Victoria is fine. I think they want to interrogate Kate next, but not until she comes back. Her parents took her home from the hospital.”
This was so much information, maybe too much at the same time, to be honest, and Max felt the overwhelming need to sit down— and she did, taking a small step back and letting herself fall at the edge of Chloe’s bed. Victoria was fine, thank god, Max would’ve never forgiven herself if her last words to her had been a promise to get her out of the Dark Room, only to let her die there. Nathan was dead, and Max had mixed feelings about it, and his last voice message kept replaying in her mind, and she shut her eyes tightly, trying to get it to stop. And Kate was away. Which, great. She didn’t need any of this right now, she just needed to rest, away from this hell, away from the horrors here.
Chloe sat down next to her, and Max didn’t want to be clingy, but she leaned into her, burying her head into her shoulder with a sigh, relishing in the closeness. She just needed to feel her. Chloe wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer, and Max thought maybe the feeling was mutual.
“You want to tell me what happened to you while you were…wherever you were? It’s fine if you don’t,” Chloe asked softly. Max knew that she wanted to know what had happened in the Dark Room. She shut her eyes even tighter to stop the memories from resurfacing, and she shook her head a little. She wanted Chloe to know everything, she wanted to tell her, and she needed to tell her, even just because she had the right to know what Rachel Amber went through in her last moments, but she couldn’t relive this. Not right now. Chloe just nodded, understanding.
“Later, I promise.”
“It’s okay , Max,” Chloe replied immediately, and she sounded so caring, and so soft, and so gentle, Max couldn’t bear it anymore, and she broke down, tears finally falling freely as she fell apart in Chloe’s arms.
She was sobbing, and sobbing, and sobbing, and her throat hurt, and her chest hurt, and her heart hurt, and she was shaking, and she felt like throwing up, and this didn’t feel liberating at all. She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried so hard, but she had not remembered how painful it was. She had not remembered how it felt like screaming, and screaming, and screaming at the world and never getting an answer. She had not remembered how desperate it was, like there was something so heavy and so awful sitting on her shoulders, or maybe somewhere in the pit of her stomach, or in the back of her throat, and like she was trying to find it, and rip it away from her, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t.
Chloe rubbed her back, gently, carefully, and she talked her through it. Slowly. Max didn’t know she could be so patient. She told her ‘you’re okay’ and ‘you’re safe’ and ‘I’m here’ and ‘it’s over’ so many times Max had no other choice but to believe it.
When Max seemed to be able to properly breathe again, Chloe didn’t let go. She made them lie down, Max’s head resting on her shoulder, and her hand slid into her hair, gently running into it. Max curled herself against her, wanting to soak up in her warmth.
“I’ve got you,” Chloe spoke softly in her hair. Max almost wanted to cry again. “You’ve been through so much this week, Max. And you did so fucking great. You rule. But it’s over now. You need to rest. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
Max hummed pitifully, not even having enough energy left in her to nod. She was so tired. God, she was so tired. She was exhausted. She wanted this to be over so bad. She was so tired.
She threw a glance at the time on Chloe’s clock.
It was one in the morning.
It was Saturday the twelfth.
There was a weak sound that escaped her throat, something between relief and exhaustion. It sounded a bit too much like a sob, too. Chloe pulled the covers up on them, and she was so warm, and Max had never felt more tired in her entire life, and her mind was blank, and Chloe started running her fingers through her hair again, and within a minute, Max was deeply asleep.
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It smelled like salt when Max woke up again. It smelled like salt, and it was suffocating . The wind was hitting her face, making a mess of her hair, and it was too strong, too violent, and it was hard to breathe. The rain was falling on her skin, and on her clothes, and Max was soaked, and she knew, before she even opened her eyes. And when she did open them, she died a little bit inside.
The Storm.
It was coming.
And for a very, very confusing moment, she thought, this is it. This is the end. And she was almost glad it was over. But then, she looked around and she realized this was the exact same place she had been in her very first vision, on Monday. None of this was real. She wasn’t actually here. She was safe, in Chloe’s room. This was just a nightmare. Of course it was, obviously she’d have nightmares after this week, but it wasn’t real. It wasn’t real, the Storm wasn’t coming. It was over. It was.
It had to be.
But then, the wind hit Max right in the face once again and she had a hard time standing still and— this just couldn’t be just a dream. This was another vision. This was real. The Storm was coming.
And for a moment, she just stood there. So helpless, so powerless, watching the tornado she had created threaten her hometown and everything she had ever loved, and she felt like giving up.
She let herself fall on the floor, sitting down back against a tree, turning away from the Storm, and she looked into space, waiting for her vision to be over. She felt numb. She felt empty. The wind was screaming in her ears. She felt so, so tired.
She only looked up when she felt eyes on her— and that was the very first time Max’s gaze met with a doe’s. The doe. But it looked so much more alive than any other time she had seen it before, so much more fleshed, and actually there, and she got up, carefully walking over to it. She didn’t even know why, but she needed to get closer. It felt like it was calling her, and as Max stepped even closer, she could see the color of its eyes. Hazel. But a hazel she could recognize. A hazel she could’ve sworn she had already seen before. She took one last step forward, and suddenly, she knew . Those eyes didn’t belong to a doe. They belonged to someone. They belonged to—
“Rachel…” she breathed out, extending a hand to touch it— to touch her . And she was so close, and the doe — Rachel Amber — bowed her head, and—
Max woke up in Chloe’s room, her whole body shaking. The first word that left her mouth, before she even tried to open her eyes, was Rachel Amber’s name. One second later, she had already forgotten why.
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