Chapter Text
For the thousandth time, she found herself here again.
The day everything changed.
She stood next to Chloe; a pirate map clutched between their hands. Max had tried to tell her they were moving away, but every time the words reached her throat, she choked. As if saying them out loud would ruin everything.
It wouldn’t hurt to wait a little longer, she told herself. All she wanted was a bit more mindless fun with her best friend.
It’s not like they would never talk or see each other again.
At least, that was what she told herself.
Her attention shifted when Chloe found an old cassette their younger selves had recorded. Chloe slid it into the player and hit the play button. The sound of two kids trying, and failing, to talk like pirates filled the room. They both laughed, cringing at how dorky they sounded.
When the tape clicked to an end, Chloe jumped to her feet and turned to Max with that familiar grin. the one that always meant trouble. Today, she decided, they were going on an adventure. Max accepted eagerly. Like a good second mate she was, following her captain.
They looked over the treasure map. Like any valuable treasure, there were some steps to find those riches. First thing first, they needed a very special amulet to help them find the spot. With their mission set and orders being said, Max set on to her task. After defeating many obstacles and overcoming challenges, she retrieved the amulet from the attic and delivered it to Captain Bluebeard. Long Max Silver climbed aboard the ship aside her captain, aka on the swing , and looked for the buried treasure in the yard. After cross examining the map and the amulet for a minute, they finally found the place of the buried treasure. Together, they dug, dirt going under their nails and on their hands, breathless with excitement, until at last they struck something solid.
A time capsule.
The one they had buried with William’s help years before.
They grabbed the box and rushed inside, opening it with glee. Inside were fragments of another time: a photo, letters written by younger versions of Max and Chloe to their future selves, and Billy the squid. They laid everything out on the table, laughing and teasing, without a care in the world.
After going through every single item and exhausting all the possibilities, Chloe skipped over toward the coach, stretched out and began to doodle in her sketchbook. Max followed, sitting at the end, and Chloe draped her legs across her lap. She watched Chloe with careful eyes, her fingers drumming on her friend’s legs. Chloe was telling her something and laughing. Nothing could ruin this day. They couldn’t be happier. And for the first time that day, she felt nothing could come between them, no matter what. She opened her mouth and started, wanting to finally tell Chloe about the moving.
Right then the front door slowly opened.
Revealing Joyce, standing in the doorway; her face streaked with tears. Chloe’s laughter faded as confusion and worry crossed her face. She hurried to her mother’s side, asking what was wrong.
William was supposed to pick up Joyce and he was not with her.
Max heard Joyce’s voice break as she spoke.
Tears streamed down Max’s face as the words reached her ears. Chloe collapsed to the floor, her wail raw and shattered. Max tried to move, to reach her, to hold her, to demand Joyce take it back, but her muscles wouldn’t respond, her damn body was betraying her.
Nothing felt real anymore.
Suddenly, a crack of lightning split the sky. Darkness rolled in as the wind howled outside, growing louder and stronger by seconds. And out of nowhere, a massive twister tore through the landscape, its roar deafening.
Max watched in horror as it swallowed everything in its path.
She ran toward Joyce and Chloe, grabbing at them, trying to pull them away, to run. But they didn’t even look at her. It was as if she didn’t exist. She screamed their names, but the wind drowned out her voice. The only sounds left were the storm and Chloe’s cries as the tornado closed in.
Before she could move again, it tore through everything, swallowing them whole.
Max jerked awake with a sharp gasp, her body snapping upright as if she’d been pulled from deep water.
For a moment, she didn’t know where she was.
Her heart hammered violently against her ribs, too fast, too loud. The room swam as she dragged in shallow breaths, fingers curling into the sheets as if to anchor herself to something real. It took real effort to remind herself to breathe in through her nose, out through her mouth.
Slow.
Count it.
The room came into focus.
A large bedroom. Familiar and Safe. Across from the bed, strings of Polaroids stretched along the wall. moments frozen in time, old and new, some faded at the edges. Proof that this was real. Proof that she was awake, that this wasn’t some fucked up dream or worse.
With a shaky exhale, Max reached over and silenced the alarm on her nightstand. The red numbers glowed faintly:
5:40 AM.
Too early to get up, Too late to fall back asleep. Why the fuck did she even set it this early?
She let herself collapse back onto the soft and massive mattress, staring at the ceiling as her pulse slowly settled back to normal. Her chest still felt tight, like something heavy was sitting just beneath her lungs. Another nightmare. Just another one.
She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again. Sleeping wasn’t going to happen.
With a quiet, frustrated groan, Max swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. She waited a beat for the dizziness to pass, then stretched her arms over her head, muscles stiff and protesting.
She grabbed her phone and padded out of the bedroom.
The house was quiet.
Warm morning light was already coming through the windows, cutting slow across the dark wood floors . The living room looked the way it always did. her mug from yesterday still on the coffee table, a book left open on the armrest, the blanket on the couch where she’d abandoned it a few nights ago.
She’d bought the place for the light, mostly. And because it felt like somewhere a person could actually breathe. she loved how picturesque it looked, even if it sounded a bit obnoxious.
She didn’t spend enough time in it though. She knew that. Most days it was just the place she came back to when everything else was done. a place to sleep, occasionally to cook, sometimes just to sit in the quiet for an hour before the next obligation pulled her back out. the place also had a basement which was perfect for her as she had repurposing it as a dark room for developing her photos as soon as she'd bought it.
It wasn’t a perfect life inside these walls.
But it was hers.
She headed for the kitchen and started the coffee.
Today, though, she wasn’t alone.
William sat at the dining table, a mug of coffee in front of him on the counter and a newspaper spread in his hands. He lowered it as she entered, his expression softening into a familiar, gentle smile.
“Good morning, Max,” he said. “How did you sleep?”
She stopped near the table, swallowing hard. After a moment, she returned his smile. small, tired, and let out a breath.
“Morning,” she said. “You know how it is. Same old shit.”
William set the paper aside and stood, pulling her into a tight hug. Max leaned into it without thinking, her forehead resting against his shoulder. They stayed that way for a few seconds longer than necessary, basking in the moment.
After a few moments, he pulled back just enough to look down at her; concern etched into every line of his face. His hands rested gently on her shoulders.
“I know what you’re thinking and it’s not your fault,” he said softly. “You did everything you could. You kept your word. You protected her.”
Max nodded, though she didn’t believe that for a second, but then again, she didn’t want to argue. She studied his face. looking for the kindness and the steadiness there and felt the familiar ache settle deep in her chest. Like losing a parent. She sighed
“Yeah,” she murmured. “I know. I just… miss you.”
William smiled and wrapped her in another hug. She breathed in the faint scent of wood and coffee. Comforting and grounding and painfully familiar.
“I miss you too, kiddo,” he said. “But you know I’m just a call away.”
He tapped two fingers lightly over her heart.
Max looked down at the spot, then back up at him. And for a moment, she truly smiled.
William returned to his seat, unfolding the newspaper once more. “Joyce is making breakfast,” he added, glancing toward the kitchen. “Why don’t you go say hi?”
Max nodded and headed toward the kitchen.
Joyce stood at the stove, focused on the pan in front of her. Pancakes sizzled softly as she worked. Max paused in the doorway, watching her for a moment as memories crowded in. Saturday mornings at the diner with her parents and Chloe, laughter and warmth.
Joyce sensed her presence and turned. Her face immediately brightened.
“Good morning, honey,” she said with that southern accent. “Want to help?”
Max smiled and stepped closer. “morning. Sure. What do you need?”
“William wants pancakes,” Joyce said cheerfully, flipping one. “And I thought I’d make a bacon omelet too. You can handle the eggs.”
Without any further instruction, Max retrieved the ingredients from the fridge, cracking the eggs into a bowl and whisking them before pouring them into the pan. The familiar sound of sizzling filled the room. They worked side by side in comfortable silence for a while.
After a moment, Max spoke, weighing her words. “Where’s Chloe? I haven’t seen her this morning.”
Joyce smiled without looking up. “She went out early. Although she said she’d be back for breakfast.” She paused and looked at max, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Oh, don’t worry, she loves you too much to stay away long.”
They both laughed softly.
When everything was ready, Joyce plated the food and carried it to the table. But, as max was about to sit down, a wave of reality hit her like a wall of stones. She looked around again, William and Joyce already deep in their morning chatter, it felt like home. Too painfully so. But she knew better. If she let herself go down this rabbit hole she couldn’t get back up again. It would be all to easy to let herself be, but life never was easy and she should face it. like how she had promised. Swallowing hard, she excused herself and slipped into the bathroom.
Like every other part of the house, it was spacious and beautiful, roof to the floor black ceramics, a massive tub and a killer view. but ignoring all that, she made her way toward the sink and opened the cabinet above it, took out a small, orange bottle and popped to lid, inside, was a dozen white pills resting at the bottom. she shook a pill into her palm. Hesitating only briefly before swallowing it dry. Her reflection stared back at her from the mirror; tired eyes with bags under them, steady hands and a face far changed from what she used to be. She waited a few moments until the tightness in her chest eased, just a little.
With a sigh she exited the bathroom and walked toward the dining table. This time, there was no sign of Joyce and William. Just a plate of half cold omelet and bacon with a mug of coffee that wasn’t steaming anymore.
She sat at the table and started to eat slowly, barely tasting the food. The fork scraped softly against the plate, the sound oddly loud in the quiet house. She focused on it. on the texture of the eggs, the distant warmth of the mug between her hands. Little things. Real things.
Stay present, she reminded herself.
She stood once the plate was empty and carried it to the sink, rinsing it clean before setting it in the rack. Having a routine helped. Routine kept things from slipping.
As she wiped her hands dry, her phone buzzed on the counter.
Max froze.
For a second, she didn’t reach for it. She watched the screen light up, pulse once, then dim again. Her stomach tightened, an old reflex she hadn’t quite unlearned.
Finally, she picked it up.
Dr. Evans
9:30 AM- Reminder
Max exhaled through her nose.
“Right,” she muttered to herself. “Of course.”
She set the phone face down and leaned back against the counter, staring at the opposite wall without really seeing it. The house felt too quiet again, however it was another story inside her head, her brain was foggy, in that way it sometimes got when her thoughts started to drift too far inward.
A blink and she was there again, arcadia bay. The storm. The week that changed everything.
it’d have been 15 years since she last saw Chloe. Well not really. At the end of that fateful week in October, she had faced a really, really terrible choice.
Either she could let Chloe, The girl she had come to love dearly and her childhood best friend die, or she could sacrifice a whole town and its people just to save one.
At the end of that fateful week in October, she had faced a terrible choice. Either she let Chloe die, the girl she had come to love dearly, her childhood best friend, or she sacrificed an entire town and everyone in it to save one person.
And the worst part was that it hadn’t been the first time she’d had to choose.
The first time, she had known what to do. Or at least it had felt that way. She chose Chloe, and together they watched the whole city get swallowed by the storm. Then, as soon as it was over, they ran.
But they say that no matter how far or how fast you run, you can’t outrun your past. And as expected, it finally caught up with them.
She could see the guilt in Chloe’s face in the early days. The weight of knowing they were responsible for all that death and destruction. Then came the call from David. The news broke Chloe. Max watched it happen in slow motion, the girl she loved being picked apart piece by piece right in front of her. She had tried to console her, of course. But what do you say to a girl who has just lost the last of her family, knowing you were responsible for everything that brought her there?
For a while, they traveled together. Because all they had was each other. Motorcycles and bicycles and old cheap Junkers. East to West to south to north. And for a while, it worked. They seemed to forget, or at least to set aside everything that had happened. Sure, they had their fights, and sometimes things got out of hand. But it made Max hope that maybe she could be enough for Chloe.
Beneath it all, though, they were pulling apart. They were like two forces of nature trying to mold into one another and failing slowly. Chloe wanted raves and crowds, wanted to empty her pent-up energy into dancing and headbanging and cheap beers at night. Max wanted to climb impossible places and find the shot, to capture the potential of abandoned places and buildings, to capture the beauty of urban decay from her own perspective. When Max finally noticed the signs, it was already too late.
One morning she woke up to an empty motel room. A piece of paper sat on the pillow beside her, a hastily written apology note on the empty space where Chloe had been.
After everything they had been through. Every unspeakable thing they had both witnessed. A goodbye note was all she got.
And that was why she was standing over this ridge again, about to make the most painful decision of her life.
It might have sounded stupid. But this wasn’t what she wanted. What was the point of any of it if, at the end, none of it mattered? The problem was that it did matter. As sad and pathetic and petty as she might have seemed, Max was not an idiot. She knew the lengths she would go to for Chloe. She always had.
But was it enough? What would be the point of sacrificing the world for a girl who didn’t want it?
Well, she certainly couldn’t bring herself to let Chloe die and had already sacrificed the whole town for her. but she had seen that no matter what, they never could outrun this god awful place. now she knew for a fact that none of them could forgive themselves if they let hundreds of innocent people die for their stupid mistakes.
An impossible task put upon shoulders of a teenage girl once more. To decide between life and death. That was unfair, but such is life.
That was when a wild and impossible idea occurred to her.
What if, this was all related? she had never thought about it before, too busy grieving and acting cautions with her powers, but what if Chloe, Rachel, William, Mr. Jefferson, herself, arcadia bay, all of it was related? What if this was a cycle that had been put into motion in a way she had never thought about?
A cycle that had started way before her return to Oregon.
maybe If she could go back and save William, then somehow save Chloe from the accident and Then, maybe even save Rachel amber, things would change in a way she wanted.
But there was no guarantee that would work and it sounded bat shit crazy, even to herself. After all, she had tried it once before and had failed miserably. Even if succeed, this could kill her or even worse, she could get stuck in a time loop or even disintegrate completely. She didn’t know the extent of her powers and there was no time to figure it out either.
This could be the end for her.
She looked back at Chloe. the fear apparent in her eyes, matching the same feeling deep inside her heart.
How was she supposed to choose? How could she decide between the girl she loved and a whole damn city? She looked down at the photo in her hands. There had to be another way. and if there wasn’t… well, she would make her own path.
She pushed that feeling aside and reached for her worn down and now soggy journal in her bag and pulled it out, turning pages backward until she reached the date she was looking for.
September 28, 2008.
There, was a picture of herself with Chloe next to her with the date written above it, both having a toothy and wide smiles on their faces. She swallowed hard and instinctively brushed her thumb over the photo, a sense of melancholy washing over her.
How could everything change so much in just 5 years?
“max? what are you doing…?”
A voice came behind her, shaky, tired and afraid.
Max closed her eyes, ignoring the familiar voice.
she took a shaky deep breath and steeled herself with a mutter under her breath.
“you can do this max. you’ve come this far”
She reached forward with her right hand and everything seemed to slow down for a second. In the last second, before she could disappear, she felt a touch on her arm and a scream over the deafening sound of the tornado. But it was too late as the world around her transitioned into a blinding white light.
she went back for one last time. Or so she thought it would be.
through agony, sheer will and love, she broke and bent time to her will. Trying every possibility over and over again, living through each and single one, going to other realities (or was she making them? she couldn’t tell anymore.)
living her life over and over again. Every choices, every mistakes, every consequences.
until she found the one. She almost died in trying. She lost her power, still left Chloe and never came back and had to make a new life with what she had. But this was the price she had to pay.
she her powers due to extensive usage(it was her best guess) and it was alright. If this tornado was her fault, then saving them should’ve fixed everything. And it did, but as she had learned before, changing a small actions in past would have consequences beyond imagination.
Jefferson died in a car crash on the road and never came to Blackwell. they searched for him for a while but never found a trace and eventually his case was announced closed. Nathan got Hospitalized in a psychiatric hospital and finally received the help he needed. After Rachel graduated, Chloe and Rachel moved to LA and made a life for themselves. William lived and he and Joyce moved to San Francisco, they got their dream house and got new jobs there. Almost everything went as planed almost.
This time, the price fell on Max.
As a result of changing the past the way she had, Max never returned to Arcadia Bay. Never went to Blackwell, never found her way back to Chloe. She could have tried again of course, could have jumped through another photograph and pulled at the threads of time one more time. But the fear of what that might break, combined with the fact that her powers had been ground down to nearly nothing, had kept her from it. Honestly, she hoped they were gone for good. They had never brought anything but destruction and complication. So she had to let them go. She didn’t know whether anything remained of them and she stopped caring eventually. The only thing that mattered was that the tornado was gone, that everyone had lived, and that Chloe was alive and happy somewhere.
That was enough. It had to be.
But changing the past left marks. That was something no one warned you about, probably because no one else had ever been stupid enough to do it the way she had or unlucky enough to gain a super power at Thursday morning that could destroy or make timelines.
The hallucinations started not long after. people who were long gone from her life appearing around her. sometimes normal, sometimes disfigured and incoherent. Kate with a broken neck, Joyce scolding her until she wanted to rip her own ears off, and sometimes Chloe, standing just at the edge of a room, there and then not there. The nightmares came every night without much exception and showed no signs of stopping.
When things got bad enough that she couldn’t trust what she was seeing anymore or what was real and what was her mind playing tricks, she finally saw a doctor. After several appointments and a lot of careful testing, her psychiatrist diagnosed her with organic hallucinosis secondary to temporal lobe trauma, with mood congruent depressive features. A long way of saying that the hallucinations had a neurological root, that she had experienced a trauma so bad that it had left a physical mark on her brain, and that the depression wrapped around all of it wasn’t just circumstantial. It was baked in, structural and it was making her condition to progress faster than anticipated .
The early months of medication were rough. Trembling hands, disrupted sleep, a general fogginess that made it hard to think clearly for weeks at a stretch. Her body took its time adjusting. but eventually it did, mostly. She came to understand that this was simply how things were going to be from now on. A baseline she had to work with rather than against and the sooner she could accept it the sooner she could put her attention on other things.
Max had gone through hell for Chloe. She would do it again without hesitation if it meant Chloe got to be alive and happy somewhere. Even if that somewhere no longer had any room for her.
The thought dissolved as her therapist’s voice surfaced in the back of her mind, calm and friendly.
"When they appear, don’t argue with them. Don’t push them away either. Notice them. Ground yourself. Ask what you’re feeling, not what’s real."
Max pressed her nails into the center of her palm until she felt the dull sting.
Five things she could see.
The window. The table. The plant by the couch. The camera bag by the door. Her own reflection staring back from the dark screen of the TV.
Four things she could touch.
The counter. Her sweater. The cool tile beneath her feet. The phone in her hand.
Her breathing slowed.
She pushed away from the counter and glanced toward the dining table. William’s chair was still empty. Joyce’s too. She knew better than to feel sorrow by that now, but the absence still tugged at something in her chest. Something that had been hollowed for a long time.
“They’re not here,” she said quietly; to herself, to the room. “That’s okay.”
It was something Dr. Evans had encouraged her to do. Say it out loud. Name it. Take away its power.
With a tired sigh max pushed off the counter and walked back in her bedroom and opened the massive closet.
Black and brown shelves greeted her as she looked around, filled with rows and rows of clothes and boxed shows and jewelry carefully sitting in their place. Max ruffled through a few of them until she found the right fit.
A white, lose buttoned shirt, pair of black tapered jeans, a long black coat, a pair of black boots, a bit of makeup and she was ready. She looked at her reflection. Simple but still her style.
She reached and touched her hair, the bright brown now replaced by darker shade of black. With a nod to herself she grabbed her purse and went out. As she moved toward the door, her gaze drifted once more toward the kitchen.
For just a moment, she thought she saw Joyce there again; hands braced on the counter, watching her with that familiar, worried look.
Max stopped and swallowed hard.
She closed her eyes and shook her head, clearing the small, ever-present fog. When she looked back, the kitchen was empty.
The lock clicked softly behind her as she stepped out.