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January. — Eight months before Reunion/Viewfinder.
These are the craziest weeks of Amanda Thomas’s entire life.
How is it possible that a simple bartender on a college campus finds herself caught up in a supernatural situation involving powers? Metahumans? Gods?
Worst of all, she found herself romantically involved with perhaps the biggest enigma in the equation: Max Caulfield.
Max Caulfield, who at first glance is a beautiful bisexual woman and an artist-in-residence at the prestigious Caledon University.
Max Caulfield, who at first glance is an ordinary, semi-recognized photographer who is just getting used to life on solid ground after years on the road.
Max Caulfield, who possesses the power of time chronokinesis —fuck, Amanda never in her life thought she’d have to look up time powers until now—. During the first few weeks of December, she gained the ability to jump from one timeline to another.
Superheroes, metahumans, and superpowers have always been something she was forced to watch with her siblings as she grew up. Sometimes she watched them for fun, to see the hero’s “human,” vulnerable side. Other times she rolled her eyes at the unrealistic and contrived plots.
Now she’s witnessing it firsthand. Maybe Max isn’t traditionally a hero, or even a metahuman, but she has powers. She has them, and she uses them.
That part still worries her. The fact that Max can control time at will, do anything, and no one would ever notice. That Max’s powers can cause natural disasters—storms, mostly.
The storm has left her in a daze, to be honest. She can hardly believe that Max had anything to do with it— that same woman who goes to Turtle every single day without fail to order her breakfast, stays for hours, chatting with the other employees, and is always happy to talk to Amanda even if just for a second? That same clumsy woman who’s constantly picking her phone up off the floor, who bangs her camera case against the corners of the table, who’s always slipping but manages to catch herself at the last moment? That same woman who seemed unsure of herself when she asked her out?
But then she sees her arguing with Moses about her powers in whispers, and it all feels real again.
There’s still too much information to process. But she’s truly terrified of the consequences of Max’s chronokinesis.
Still, she appreciates that Max respects her space. The space Amanda had rehearsed how to ask for... for hours, the space Amanda really needed. She just... needs to be emotionally distant from Max for a moment.
Because if she tries to go after something again, it would be disastrous. Because Amanda doesn’t fully trust Max right now. Because Amanda still can’t believe that powers exist. Because Max still hasn’t told her the whole story.
Max is there every day, minding her own business, without asking anything of Amanda in return, without demanding answers or even that she pay attention to her. Although it’s clear she’d prefer Amanda to acknowledge her, Max is kind and friendly to every employee. She stays close by, whether to show Amanda she’s there, to avoid being trapped in the solitude of her home, or… for some other reason.
A few days after the storm, Amanda had tried to avoid her, only to falter the moment Max walked in. In those uncomfortably trivial conversations, Max began to reveal more of herself—more anecdotes, more about her personal tastes, more about her experiences, more about her life. It was something Amanda had wanted ever since she’d met her, and now Max is making an effort.
They’re still keeping things light, mostly because they haven’t really talked since Amanda asked for some space. It feels good to be like this, taking baby steps, without any obligations yet.
- -
This morning, Max is restless.
Amanda notices that something is off about her the way she cautiously enters the bar, as if she’s second-guessing whether she should have come in at all. She sits down on a stool right next to Amanda, though she hesitated for a second before doing so. When she rests her arms on the bar, her fingers drum anxiously on the smooth wood.
Amanda isn't ignoring her. She's just finishing up a drink for a regular customer, and then she'll give her her full attention. So she finishes garnishing the glass, hands it to the student, and he nods in thanks.
When she turns to look at her, Max is already looking at her, though her gaze is unfocused, as if she were lost in thought. Amanda bites the inside of her cheek before brushing against one of Max’s hands, snapping her out of her daze.
"Hey," she greets her, smiling apologetically. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," Max shakes her head, bringing her fingers to her temple and rubbing it gently. "It's just one of those days," she confesses, lowering her voice as if she didn't dare to show vulnerability in public.
Amanda nods slowly. "Is there anything I can do?"
Max stares at her for a few seconds, searching for something in her that she finds, as she mimics her nodding slowly as if she were taking it all in. “Actually, I wanted to—” she pauses, as if choosing her words more carefully. She sighs, and Amanda can’t help but raise an eyebrow, intrigued.
Max looks away. “I’d like to talk to you about the storm and—and clear things up,” she finally says, with a solemn expression.
Amanda tilts her head, a small smile playing on her lips. The fact that Max Caulfield is taking that first step means a lot. It’s not much, but progress is progress, right?
She could use having her doubts cleared up once and for all.
"Okay," she agrees, trying to sound casual, as if her heart weren’t about to burst or her hands weren’t trembling as she rests one on her hip and the other on top of it.
Max turns her head to glance at her quickly, almost cracking her neck. Amanda winces slightly at the sound, but Max remains unfazed, looking at her with sparkling eyes.
"Is it okay if we go to my place after your shift?"
"Of course."
- -
The hours pass amid waves of students and teachers taking advantage of the last days of the open Turtle to drink and eat as much as they can.
Max stays in her corner, neither getting in the way nor standing out, and yet Amanda keeps instinctively glancing in her direction, as if to make sure she hasn’t slipped away. Max is always there, reading something on her phone while slowly sipping her drink.
Amanda allows herself to leave a few minutes before the end of her shift, trusting her employees to close up and tidy the bar. Meanwhile, Max seems to realize she’s getting ready to leave and heads to the entrance to put on her coat.
That’s where Amanda finds her, lingering by the entrance with her hands in her pockets. Hearing her approach, she stops and looks at her.
They both smile at each other. Max takes the lead, opening the door for her with a slight bow; Amanda chuckles as she steps out. She remembers the same gesture from weeks ago, when she had gone to Max’s house.
Max slams the door shut, grimacing. “Sorry,” she mutters, staring intently at the door as if... Amanda isn’t quite sure why. She doesn’t think Max has the strength to rip the door off its hinges.
She shakes her head. “Be careful, Caulfield, or you’ll have to buy me a new door.”
Max steps away from the door, staring at it blankly before approaching. “I’ll be careful. Take my word for it.”
That’s what Amanda is trying to do, honestly.
- -
Walking together feels intimate after so much distance between them. Amanda is tempted several times to brush against her or take her hand, only to reluctantly shake off the urge.
Max remains expressionless, her hands in her pockets and her blue eyes as cold as ice. Amanda feels uncomfortable seeing her like this.
They arrive at Max’s house after what feels like an eternity. Caledon is so quiet it looks like an abandoned building, especially now that the storm damage is clearly visible. The sounds coming from the nearly melted snow don’t help.
Max opens the door for her, gesturing for her to go in first. Amanda nods gratefully, sighing at the warmth that greets her as Max hurries to close the door to block out the freezing cold.
They take their time taking off the thick layers of clothing they’re wearing. As if they want to prolong this single moment of peace before the coming storm. No pun intended.
Max finishes first, rubbing her cold hands together to warm up. “Would you like something to drink?”
Amanda finds it interesting to suddenly take off her boots. “Something hot would be nice.”
Max nods; Amanda sees it out of the corner of her eye. Then she walks off toward the kitchen, and Amanda lets out a silent sigh.
She feels extremely nervous. Even though she really wants to have a serious talk with Max, because doing so would bring her peace of mind. Even though it’s clear that Max wants to talk to her.
Maybe she’s nervous about how tonight might go? Because this would finally settle their situation. And maybe Amanda would prefer to stay in limbo just so she could keep talking to Max.
But no. That wouldn’t be fair to either of them.
Her therapist would be proud of her, right?
Amanda glances briefly toward the kitchen, where Max is moving awkwardly. There’s a nervous energy about her that rubs off on Amanda as well. She shakes her head, hesitantly making her way to the couch, sitting stiffly near the fireplace, finding comfort in the warmth that finally calms her tremors.
She leans back in the couch, closing her eyes as her body warms up. It feels nice.
She can hear Max turning something on; the hum of the electric kettle fills the silence between them. She opens her eyes at the unexpected noise.
Then she hears almost silent footsteps approaching, followed by the sight of Max’s shadow looming over the coffee table.
"I put the kettle on for some black tea. Unless you'd like something else?" she says, sitting down on the couch across from her, her back uncomfortably straight.
"Black tea is fine," she nods, settling into her seat. "So..." she begins, letting Max decide what to tell her next.
Max sighs, clasping her hands together. “Do you remember I mentioned that I got my powers at eighteen after witnessing a traumatic event?”
Amanda nods slowly, watching as Max’s posture wavers briefly and her gaze settles on the coffee table between them.
“Yeah” she says, unsure if Max has already seen it.
Max takes a deep breath. “I… I witnessed my best friend’s death,” her voice cracks, and she swallows uncomfortably.
Amanda shudders, her brown eyes wide with horror.
"From there, I was able to rewind time. I saved her that time, and we were able to reunite. For a very long time, Chloe was the only one who knew about my powers. She... she wanted to find a friend of hers who had gone missing, and I started helping her while also taking the opportunity to help other people. We ended up discovering that my photography teacher was behind her murder—or at least was about to be, until his protégé beat him to it—, although he was responsible for the deaths of other girls around my age at the time. But even though we discovered the truth, we couldn’t stop the storm. I had two choices: save Chloe or save Arcadia Bay and—” Max closes her eyes tightly as tears roll down her pale cheeks.
"I let Chloe die so that—" Max breaks off with a whimper mixed with a sob. Amanda had never seen her so broken and vulnerable before.
Her eyes sting as if she were to cry. She can feel Max’s palpable pain, and it’s overwhelming her, as if she were the one who went through it.
Being eighteen and having gone through that? Suddenly getting caught up in a missing search that ended with finding the killer? With powers involved? Losing her best friend in the process?
Amanda is trying to make sense of it all—how Max’s life went upside down and how she’s still holding on, trying to find her place in the world.
And God, Amanda just wants to tell her that her place is right by her side, because selfishly, immorally, she wants to keep Max away from that pain.
Max tilts her head back, slowly opening her eyes, blinking a couple of times in a futile attempt to wipe the tears from her eyelids. "I-I'm telling you this so you can understand why I've never said anything about my powers. Of course, that doesn't justify my actions—far from it. I'm responsible for my decisions and their consequences. It's also why I was so calm in the storm; as I said before, it wasn't the first time I'd been in one."
Amanda slumps back into her seat, stunned. She goes over Max’s words again and again, taking them in as a whole and then breaking them down piece by piece.
There’s only one thing she knows for sure, and that is that Max Caulfield is damn strong for having gone through all that and still...
The way the world works is fucked up.
Max is right there, with every reason in the world to rebel against it all, and yet she hides. She hides to keep others at a distance, as if she were an atomic bomb that would destroy anyone who came near her.
Max is the hero, even though she has every reason to be the villain.
Amanda looks at her again, and her heart breaks a little when she sees Max curling up into a ball, making herself small.
It’s scary to bare your heart. Amanda knows that.
Max is right. Her past doesn’t excuse her actions, and yet… it really does explain a lot.
If Amanda thinks about it carefully, she would understand why Max had decided to pretend everything was normal in a timeline where their relationship didn’t need to be put on hold. She would understand that Max needed that charade for herself, to have something tangible in her life after...
All Amanda really wants from Max is communication—no more secrets. And the fact that Max is actually trying, not just making empty promises, is incredibly special.
She still feels some pain over the fact that Max crossed her boundaries. It will take time for that trust to be rebuilt. But she’s willing to get past it if Max continues to be this honest with her.
A sharp, whistling shriek cuts through the tension in the air. Max jumps to her feet and heads to the kitchen without saying another word, and Amanda doesn’t press the issue.
- -
With the steaming tea finally warming her hands, Amanda allows herself to gather her thoughts before letting them out into the air.
Max waits patiently, taking slow sips of tea as if it were helping her keep her anxiety in check.
The silence in the cabin is strangely soothing, as if the distance and tension between them have eased enough for them to feel at comfortable in each other’s presence.
Amanda clears her throat softly. Max looks at her as she finishes her tea before setting the cup down on the table. Amanda does the same.
With a slight frown, she decides to ask the question that’s been swirling around in her head.
"Were you a victim of your teacher?"
The change in Max’s expression is immediate. Her shudder doesn’t go unnoticed, despite her best efforts; the blankness in her gaze, as if she’d been teleported back to an old chapter in her life; the way her fists clench and her lips press into a thin line.
That’s answer enough for Amanda.
“No,” Max replies belatedly, muttering through clenched teeth.
But Amanda knows there’s more. That there’s something she’s not telling her.
Max seems to realize that her body has betrayed her, grimacing before raising her hands. “It happened in other realities,” she explains, without sounding entirely convincing.
“Max.”
Amanda is beyond horrified.
It’s as if every new thing she learns about Max is becoming more and more painful. More and more traumatic.
Max lowers her head, as if she were ashamed? Of what, exactly?
She was only eighteen. What the hell was Max supposed to do? It was a deranged adult man who held her captive.
And no matter what she chose, no matter who she saved, there was going to be suffering; people were going to get hurt.
Besides, why did those two horrible choices even fall on her?
The fact that Max’s psyche isn’t completely shattered is… it’s really something.
It shows just how fucking strong Max is.
Amanda wants to get closer.
Because no word feels quite right on the tip of her tongue—either it’s too generic or too insensitive.
It’s just… there are times when physical contact says more than words, right?
She licks her lips, more out of habit than anything else.
“…Can I hug you?” she asks in a low, soft voice.
Max lifts her head immediately, staring at her.
A heartbeat passes.
Then Max nods slowly. “Yes,” she whispers, almost as if she can’t believe it.
"Alright," Amanda murmurs, more to herself than to Max. It's a way of steeling her nerves as she stands up, trying not to let her see that her knees are trembling under her intense blue gaze, which follows her unflinchingly.
Walking over to Max feels like slow motion, though within seconds she’s already sitting down beside her. She hesitates for a second before opening her arms, and it takes Max a second to register this before she lunges toward her, wrapping her arms firmly around her back, as if she needed something to hold onto.
Amanda wraps her arms around her waist, burying her face in her shoulder. Her lips tremble as she feels Max start to shake, and tears burn the skin on her neck. She can only pull her closer, feeling her own tears welling up.
She feels so much pain for Max, and for now, she allows herself to feel it. Later, perhaps, she’ll resume her caution toward them, toward what they might become.
All that matters is that Max is letting herself fall into her arms, that she’s letting her truly get to know her.
- -
When Max begins to slowly pull away, letting her hands inadvertently brush against Amanda’s back, she reluctantly loosens her grip on her waist.
Max’s eyes are still slightly swollen and bloodshot. There are traces of tears on her freckled cheeks, but to Amanda, she has never looked more beautiful.
She can’t resist; she reaches out and brushes Max’s hand—an unspoken question that Max answers by intertwining her fingers in a loose grip, just enough to feel it but just enough to break the contact immediately.
Amanda wants to reach out and stroke Max’s cheek, but that would be completely out of line. Instead, she squeezes her hand gently, and Max gives her a small smile.
“Max Caulfield,” she calls softly, feeling butterflies flutter shyly at the sound of her name. Max tilts her head. “You’re strong for everything you’ve been through. And I’m sorry, too, for what you’re going through.”
Max unexpectedly blushes slightly, quite visibly. “Thank you, Amanda. You’re so kind.”
Amanda smiles at her.
"Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to know how you managed to shift from one reality to another."
Max raises an eyebrow. "You mean recently?"
Amanda blinks.
"Wasn't that the first time you did it?" she asks, before remembering Max's answer from a few minutes ago—something about other realities.
She doesn’t correct herself. Max doesn’t correct her.
Max doesn’t answer, but instead grimaces, as if she’s thinking.
“Well, a few weeks ago…”
- -
From that night on, when Max opened up to Amanda and Amanda opened up to her in return, they began to grow closer. Closer than ever before.
It’s almost like a mutual understanding between them.
The Turtle closes for the suspended classes, and Amanda takes the opportunity to visit her family. During that break, she stays in constant contact with Max, as if it had always been that way.
Amanda, though she’s too embarrassed to say it out loud, misses Max. Hearing her voice during their rare phone calls isn’t enough, because she can’t feel her warmth close to her or see her eyes.
That’s when Amanda realizes she’s falling for her all over again. But this time, there isn’t as much fear involved, because, even though it’s still a work in progress, she trusts Max enough.
For the first time in weeks, since the storm, Amanda feels hope.