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With everything Max- future Max, just dropped on Chloe, the wildfire of righteous fury burning in her chest now feels directionless. Everything in her, even as Max looks at her with such gentle confidence, is screaming to wrap her hand around the gun's grip and blow Jefferson’s motherfucking head off.
Nathan might be dead, but her chance to avenge Rachel is so close now, and she wants so fucking badly to be the one to do it! But knowing what he did to Max-
Er…
Would do...?
Well… wouldn’t do to Max, now, but was capable of…
...
Fuck time travel.
Whatever the case, she owes it to Max not to run in with guns literally blazing. She has a plan, and she needs Chloe to be the one to make it work, or all that she’s been through will be for nothing.
Pushing her ego down, Chloe tries not to doubt her ability to do what needs to be done as she asks, “will you believe me?”
Relief plays across Max’s face as she smiles and grabs Chloe’s hand to lead her away from the pool. She just hears Max say, “I’ll always believe you, Chloe,” as they jog back to the truck.
They make it a few steps before Max falters and stops. For just a second, she seems to sway in place as she drops Chloe’s hand. She shakes her head and looks around before finding Chloe, confusion knitting her brow. “Chloe?” Max sounds disoriented as she asks, “why are we going to the parking lot?”
So that’s it, then. Future Max is gone.
Taking a deep breath, Chloe lets it out as she grabs Max’s hand. “We’ve got to go talk to David, and then we’re headed to my house.”
Chloe feels Max’s fingers reflexively close around her’s, “but…” She shakes her head, “we need to find Nathan? And... Victoria?”
“Come on.” Praying she’ll make Future Max proud, Chloe gives Max’s hand a small squeeze as she starts leading the way back to the truck. “Future You has different plans, and she told me what we need to do.”
There’s no resistance as Max follows along behind her, trusting in Chloe’s lead like she always did when they were kids, just like Future Max promised she would now. Something warm and fuzzy in her chest grows at the knowledge that Max still trusts her like she used to.
Behind her, Max asks, “future Me?”
Picking up the pace, Chloe calls over her shoulder, “I’ll explain on the way!”
…
…
Opening her bedroom door, Chloe only stops to kick her boots off.
They’d- well… Chloe told David about the bunker. Max had supplied a couple of details, but mostly she’d just stood and stared at the ground while Chloe explained everything to Stepdou-
…
To her stepfather.
Much as it makes her skin crawl, if he saved Max, and made sure she could come back to Chloe and make things right? He might not have saved Rachel, but he still saved one of the most important people in her life. For that, he’d earned at least a momentary drop of the title of Stepdouche.
Fuck knew she wasn’t about to write off it’s reinstatement in a heartbeat, though.
So, with a newfound respect for David writhing in her gut like rancid meat, all that’s left is to sit. Sit and fucking wait. It’s a hell of a one-eighty from the vengeful executioner she’d been ready to be most of the day.
More than anything she wants to be the one to find vengeance for Rachel’s…
Even the thought of what happened to her is like a suckerpunch, and she can’t bring herself to properly align the words, ‘Rachel’, and ‘death’. The two cant- shouldn’t be able to occupy the same sentence, and yet…
Every inch of her is crawling with a burning need to do something, and Future Max’s instructions to do fucking nothing are driving her hella fucking crazy. She’d like nothing more than to throw her boots back on and run full tilt into the night to introduce Jefferson to the bullet with his name on it.
Instead, forcing down a grief that threatens to consume every part of who she is, she makes herself head to her bed.
She hears Max shuffle in and shut the door as Chloe throws herself face first onto the mattress. As she lands, she shoves her mouth into it and screams as loud as she can, the noise muffled by the wad of blanket crumpled part-way in her mouth. Once her lungs are empty, she rolls over and stares at the ceiling. “Sorry,” she grumbles.
For a long moment, it’s quiet and Chloe finally pushes herself up on her elbows to see Max, still standing a couple of feet beyond the closed door. Her eyes are turned down to the floor at her feet. She’s stock still, legs together, elbows tucked into her sides; her hands are holding onto the strap of her messenger bag, fingers rubbing and twisting the fabric in every direction.
Something about the image before her is jarring compared to the time ninja of a best friend that Chloe’s seen the last couple of days. Seeing Max so focused and fearless is a welcome change from their childhood.
And being the lackey to an honest to fuck, superhero is pretty fucking dope too.
Her voice small, so as not to startle her, Chloe calls, “Max?"
Even then, her chin tilts up suddenly, and her unfocused eyes zero in on Chloe. Something in her expression looks lost, but she doesn’t say anything.
“Max?” Chloe tries again, her voice a little firmer “You've been a total zombie since Blackwell. What's wrong?” She shrugs, gesturing vaguely toward the window above her desk. “Other than fucking everything, I mean.”
For a moment, Max’s eyes leave Chloe’s, and they drift to the desk, before following the wall to eventually land back on the tops of her shoes. “I…” She sighs and locks eyes with Chloe again. “Chloe, I’m going to disappear.”
On automatic, Chloe sits up completely. Instinct tells her to fight whatever is about to take Max, but the lack of a clear opponent leaves her gut clenched in her lap. Now that she knows Rachel’s fate, she’s not about to let anything take Max from her.
She shakes her head, not understanding as the skin on her arms and the back of her neck begins to prickle. A small trickle of fear threads it’s way into her mind as she asks, “like, more time magic?”
Fingers loosening from her bag’s strap, Max’s hands reach across herself for her elbows and she hugs herself tight. Her eyes are unfocused as she nods, and her voice is thick. “When She comes back, I’m going to disappear.” Her breath shakes as she looks pleadingly across the room. “She’s going to fucking erase me, Chloe.”
Eyes bouncing from Max to the door, and back, Chloe’s heart picks up it’s pace as she shakes her head. “You’re freaking me out, Max. Who are-?” Even as she’s looking around, ready to start swinging, the realization hits her and her lungs empty all at once as she exhales, “oh.” She takes a breath to steady herself. “Y-you mean… Future Max?”
Not quite meeting Chloe’s eye, Max nods, hugging herself tighter. Her voice is small. “I never thought about it.” She shrugs, “I only did it twice. But…” Her eyes find Chloe’s again and she sighs. “Do you remember when you dropped me off at my dorm after Frank’s RV?”
“Ye-ah?” Chloe draws the word out, trying to understand what Max is saying. Why wouldn’t she remember that? It was, what? A day ago, give or take a couple hours?
Or…
It had been for Chloe, at least. How long had it been for Max?
Max nods. “And… after that? When we were in your room this morning, and I hugged you at your desk before working on the evidence together?”
Blinking, Chloe deadpans. “Yes, I remember, Max.” She shrugs, “what the fuck does that have to do with super Future You?”
Letting out a slow breath, there’s a small quaver in Max’s voice, and she closes her eyes as she says. “The girl you picked up from my dorm, and the one that hugged you at your desk…” she laughed humorlessly, shaking her head. “We weren’t the same fucking Max, Chloe.” With a shrug she opens her eyes. “I slipped into a different reality when I was in my dorm, and when I came back from it, I erased the Max you’d been with that morning.”
Trying to process Max’s words feels more like waiting for a punchline that isn’t coming. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? “I picked you up this morning, Max.” Something about what she said sounds familiar though. “Wait… Fuck. She...” She's still trying to process everything Future Max had told her. There was so much information dropped on her head at once while her brain was stuck in a murder-cloud, it’s hard to remember.
Pushing out a breath to steady herself, Chloe tries again. “Future Max told me about the other reality, where you saved my dad and I…” For some reason, even knowing it wasn’t her, just some alternate version, it’s still hard to say. “And you… took mercy on me?” She can’t quite swallow the lump starting to form in her throat. “You mean, that reality?”
Max only nods.
“And…” Chloe licks her lips, trying to wrap her head around this Max’s point. “And when you came back from there, you…” she shakes her head. “You repossessed yourself?”
“I guess?” Max shrugs. “I have no idea what I’ve done, Chloe. But I…” she sighs. “I think I created an alternate reality when I went back to change things, and the Max that you picked up…” she trails off, her eyes searching the floor between them for answers. “I think maybe she was some kind of placeholder for the body I’d left. She was me, but… not.” Returning her gaze, Max asks, “did she seem like a real person?” Her mouth struggles to form the two words, “like me?”
“I…” Chloe pushes her forehead into her palm. Sitting up takes too much brain power right now. “I mean, she… you seemed like you.” She nods to the board still taped with strips of paper, their haphazard collage of patchwork evidence that ended up pointing to the conclusion they were looking for.
The wrong one.
“You- er… she-” Seriously. Fuck time travel. “She was the one who suggested we grab that board to give us a space to work from.”
For a long moment, Max doesn’t say anything as she stares straight through Chloe. Finally she sighs, “so…” As she breathes in, Chloe can see her thinking. “I left a version of myself behind and then I just overwrote her like useless data when I came back.” Suddenly her eyes go wide, her hands covering her mouth as she gasps, “oh my god!”
The alarm in her voice makes Chloe's head shoot up, scanning for threats on automatic as her body tenses. The look of horror in Max’s eyes makes Chloe want to do whatever it takes to protect her. Hell, at this point tearing something’s larynx out sounds almost therapeutic.
Well… if Chloe actually knew where a larynx was at least.
The word is fun though.
Larynx.
Chloe growls, “what?”
“The Max in the other timeline!” She gasps, “I-I overwrote her- or…” Max shakes her head, “suppressed her, maybe? I don’t know. But if I did that there…” Her breath starts to pick up as she speaks. “Like I did here? That means that when I left, I left that version of myself sitting in your room with your body!” Max takes a few steps toward the desk to let herself fall into the chair there.
She whispers to the room, “I took the other Max from Blackwell to go to your house, spend the night, and kill you in the morning before I left.” Max looks like she's going to be nauseous as she continues. “I destroyed the lives of the Max, Chloe, Joyce, and William from that reality because the consequences of doing it didn’t affect me.” She shakes her head, “and… and time kept moving forward while I was there. I came back to your room at the same time as I had just killed you.”
There’s a wild look in Max’s eye, almost like an animal caught in a trap as she continues. “And if my placeholder was here the entire time I was gone? Then that means that reality will probably continue existing without me there.”
“Max…” Chloe says her name, but she doesn’t even seem to notice as Max stares at the floor between her feet and continues, sounding frantic.
“Then that means I’m not fixing shit, and that I’m only tearing through so many different realities and leaving after I’ve made things worse for everyone!” She scoffs, “I only used them as a means to a fucking end because I thought I was just putting a bandaid on time. But they were- are real people!”
The revulsion in her voice is growing almost to a fever pitch as Chloe stands and crosses the room to Max.
With her eyes still locked on the floor, Max quietly says, “they’re real people. Like I was.” A manic laugh spills from her mouth even as the words are thick on her tongue. “But I’m not a person now.” She shakes her head. “I’m just a fucking placeholder for Future Me until she’s done ripping through people’s lives!”
Kneeling at her feet, Chloe puts her hands on Max’s knees. “Max, look at me. Please.”
Max’s eyes snap to her’s and Chloe can see the wild, anxious fear plain on her face as tears begin to well in the corners of her eyes. “S-she’s going to erase me, Chloe!”
Now that she has Max’s attention, Chloe isn’t sure what to say. She’d helped Rachel through enough panic attacks that it’s just a habit to try to get out in front of a spiral before it can hit that point. Does Max even have panic attacks? “I-I’m sorry, Max. I didn’t realize.”
Max nods, her voice small, “me too, Chloe.”
Rising to her feet, Chloe grabs Max’s hands and gives them a small tug. “C’mon, Max.” She nods to the bed behind her. “Let’s just… lay down.”
Letting Chloe pull her forward, Max seems to move on automatic. As she takes her first step, she stops, and a thick chuckle bubbles from her throat. “Chloe?”
Chloe feels on edge as she hesitantly asks, “yeah, Max?”
“Can…” a small smile tugs at her lips even as they quiver. “Can we smoke some weed?”
In spite of the situation, the question actually makes her laugh. Goodie-goddamn-two-shoes Maxine fucking Caulfield is asking to smoke weed? If not for the fear in her eyes souring the moment, Chloe would be laughing her ass off.
Instead, she nods as her laugh dies. “Sure, Max. A joint sounds hella fucking dope right now.”
Crawling over her bed to her ashtray, Chloe grabs it, along with the plate with her grinder and papers. She reaches under her bed and finds the small lip on the underside of her bedframe where her bud lives and places a couple nugs in the grinder before replacing the baggie. They spend the next few minutes in silence while Chole rolls the joint.
Not too far off, Max sits on the edge of the bed, watching. While she waits, she finally drops her bag on the floor next to her feet. The entire time, Chloe can see her fidgeting from the corner of her eye.
When the joint is finished, Chloe replaces everything but the ashtray and the joint. She looks at Max with a small grin. “You ready, hippie?”
Breathing a laugh, the tension in Max's shoulders seems to ease a bit as she says, “hella ready, shaka brah.”
Closing her eyes as the cringe builds in her chest, Chloe pushes out a pained sigh. “Just for that, you don’t get the first hit.”
Her eyebrow raises. “Is… is the first hit the best one or something?”
“Yup!” Chloe grabs the lighter from her ashtray and is about to put the joint in her mouth when she stops, and shows her the narrow opening at the base. Her voice is grave as she asks, “you see this end here?”
Max nods, looking confused.
“To hit, you pull your lips in your mouth a little,” she does it for a second, “like that.” Chloe gives the joint a small shake for emphasis. “If you stick this end in your mouth and get it wet, it’s all fucking over.”
Max blinks, mimics Chloe’s lips for a second, and nods. “Okay.”
Smiling, Chloe puts the end between her lips and flicks the lighter, touching the flame to the end. She breathes deep, and the fragrant smoke is vaporized comfort down her throat, settling in her lungs like a noxious hug. As she exhales the haze above their heads, she groans in contentment.
She hadn’t realized how fucking badly she needed a hit after everything today.
Taking another quick hit, she holds the smoke in her lungs as she says, her voice croaky, “puff, puff, pass.” She breathes it out above their heads again, and holds the joint out to Max. “Stoner etiquette.”
Max nods and takes the joint between her fingertips, staring at the cherry as a small, steady stream of smoke rises from it.
“When you hit it,” Chloe instructs, “breathe in slowly. And,” she laughs, a small sense of heaviness already settling in her forearms where they rest against her knees. “Don’t take a big one, or you’ll have a bad fucking time.”
“I never thought weed would have so many rules,” Max mumbles.
Chloe laughs. “Just hit it, hippie.”
Gingerly, Max holds the end of the joint between her fingers and pulls her lips back before placing the end in her mouth. Chloe can see her inhale slowly and she nods along with Max. “You can stop whenever you want to.”
A second after, Max pulls the joint away and stares at Chloe as she opens her mouth to breathe out. She blows the thin vapor directly in Chloe’s face.
Cringing, Chloe leans back, waving the smoke away. “Dude! Fucked up.”
After a single small cough, Max gasps, “sorry!” Glancing at the joint, she furrows her brow. “Why didn’t my smoke look as good as yours?”
Rolling her eyes, Chloe laughs, “you’ll figure it out.” She shrugs, “you've got another hit.”
Chloe is actually kind of proud of Max. It was a good first hit, and she didn't even hack her lungs out. Chloe had the name, ‘Coughfield’, all lined up and ready to go when she fucked it up and everything.
With a little more confidence, Max takes another solid hit for almost two seconds. Blinking rapidly she immediately exhales another wispy puff of smoke. Her eyes widen, and Chloe can see her eyes dilate as she holds the joint out. She breathes, “whoa.”
With a wide grin, Chloe nods. “Max, I’ve never been prouder of you than I am right now.” She takes a deep drag while Max lazily rolls her eyes.
The joint cycles back and forth a couple of times, mostly in silence, save for the odd grunt of a clearing throat or a single small cough proceeding a smoky exhale.
Taking a deep breath, Max grabs the joint for her fifth round of hits, and her movements are slow as she pulls the joint back to herself. For a long moment… or… five minutes maybe? Max stares at the bright, smoldering cherry. Chloe finds herself staring at it too, trying to find what the fuck Max thinks is so interesting. But, before she can, Max huffs and places the joint between her lips. Immediately, she breathes too quickly and her eyes widen as she pulls the joint away and starts coughing smoke.
Quickly taking it from Max’s hand, Chloe laughs, “there’s my Coughfield!”
“Shut-” coughing, “-up!” More coughing. “Chloe!” And then she coughs some more.
Placing the joint between her lips, Chloe smacks Max’s back a couple times with the other hand. She blows smoke from the corner of her mouth and smiles as Max sits up, her coughing subsiding. “You got overconfident.”
“Mhmm…” Max glares at her for a second before getting to her feet. She wobbles a little, her eyes going wide as she mumbles, “whoa!”
Seeing Max high isn’t something Chloe ever thought she would see. It’s actually really cute. She’s like a spaced out puppy. And that's only her first few hits. “Going somewhere?”
“Water,” she croaks. Max blinks a couple of times before turning toward the door.
Chuckling to herself, Chloe watches her leave. She calls after her, “don’t get lost!” Max only waves over her shoulder as the door clicks shut behind her.
Chloe takes another hit.
As funny as seeing Max get high is, she knows it’s because she’s afraid. But then, Chloe would be fucking terrified too. Knowing that future Max was coming back, and this version of her would just be… gone?
There wouldn't be any warning. One second you’re there, and the next, you’re not.
Do the other versions of Max die when she inhabits them? Or are they suppressed and just come back when she leaves? And are they aware of her inhabiting them and taking control? What happens if she stays in one? Are they just a silent prisoner in their own body while someone else has the driverseat?
And the shit she said about the other reality… If it didn’t get erased when she changed the past, then what happened to that Max?
How many Max’s are there, and how many of them have powers to fuck with time? Or is there just one alpha Max with powers? If there’s more than one, are they all working toward the same goal? Does one’s success, doom the rest to failure?
Thinking back to that morning, she can’t remember feeling like there was anything off about Max. Sure, the hug once she’d gotten back was weird, but until that point she seemed like normal Max Caulfield. But that was already a ‘placeholder’. And now that this one is too… Will there be three slightly different versions of Max in the same body? And if Future Max leaves this body and they’re both suppressed, which one gets control?
What if Future Max stays in this body until she’s like, forty? Will the other two still think they’re only eighteen when one comes back?
Fuck.
If all of this has only been happening since this morning, and Future Max had been hopping time and realities for a bit now. How much more time has all of this been for her? And if there are realities being left in her wake, how many Max’s has she killed or fucked over along the way?
This Max said she’d never considered most of these things. Not until the threat of nonexistence was looming over her head. Has Future Max stopped to even think about those same consequences?
Or is she too busy trying to fix everything that she’s messing with time without stopping?
At what point do Future Max and the Max ‘placeholders’ start to become entirely different people? Does knowing that their existence is only temporary make the divide between them that much greater?
This Max actually asked to smoke weed as a coping mechanism, and Chloe is pretty sure that the standard issue Max would never even think of something like that as being an option.
Granted, if she was faced with an unknown form of obliteration, Chloe would be doing as much shit that she’d never experienced as she could. Who knows if she would ever get another chance to try?
And when the fuck is Future Max supposed to come back? Does she even know?
“You’re full of fucking questions,” she mutters to the stub of joint between her fingers.
Still, why the fuck is getting water taking this Max so long. At this rate, Chloe is going to smoke the whole joint to herself, and she wants to see Max higher.
Just a little.
Chloe desperately wants to know Max Coughfield. Especially since this may be the only chance she’ll ever have.
She’s about to get up to go find her when the door clicks open again, and Max, eyes trained on her feet, shuffles inside with two glasses of water.
“‘Bout fuckin’ time!” Chloe says as Max nudges the door shut with her foot..
Max mutters, “spaced out in the kitchen. Forgot where the glasses were.”
Even as Chloe starts to smile at that, the look on Max’s face kills it. Her eyes are unfocused and distant, more haunted than the thousand yard stare of a good indica. The frown on her face, if it were a downhill slope, would be for experienced skiers only. Her brow is scrunched, wrinkling her forehead, and her thumb moves up and down slowly, and almost absentmindedly over the glass in her hand.
It’s like the face of a prisoner dragging their feet on their way to be executed.
When Max makes it to the edge of the bed, she hands Chloe one of the glasses as she sits down. All the way, she never once looks up from the floor.
Raising the glass to her lips for a drink is almost robotic; it's more like something to do than because she needs it.
Chloe isn’t sure if Max is thinking or disassociating.
Maybe both.
Taking one last hit, Chloe rubs the stub out in her ashtray. She quickly exhales the scorched flavor of that final drag, the taste of which seems to coat the whole of her mouth now that the weed is gone. Taking a quick drink, she swishes it around for a second before downing it.
If Max even knows what room she’s in, Chloe would be surprised. Her expression is vacant, eyes locked on some part of the floor without seeing it; her thumb is still barely moving over the glass.
Clearing her throat, Chloe speaks softly, still trying not to spook the doomed version of her best friend. “Hey, Max?” The words feel thick on her tongue.
It takes a second before Max seems to hear her, and she looks up from the floor like an android starting up. Her eyes widen before they relax back into a stoned, half-lidded gaze as she looks at Chloe. Her voice croaks when she asks, “yeah?” The word sounds almost hollow.
WIth a small groan, her face involuntarily pinching into a wince, Chloe feels like she might have fucked up in letting Max smoke. She’d thought it would help take her mind off of things but… “That joint only got you more in your head, huh?”
She breathes a small grunt like a forced laugh and takes another drink of water. As she swallows she just hums, “mhmm.” Max’s eyes drop to somewhere over Chloe’s shoulders before traveling down to the space beside her knee, the vacancy returning.
Giving a quiet but firm, “hey!” draws Max’s attention back to Chloe’s face just long enough for Chloe to nod over her shoulder. “You just want to lay down?”
For a moment, Max just stares at her before she takes a long drink from her glass and sets it on the floor. Starting to crawl up the mattress beside her, Max stops. Hesitantly, she mumbles, “ca-can I…” she stops to chew on her lip as she stares into the mattress. After a second, she asks, her voice small, “can you cuddle with me?”
A smile creeps onto Chloe’s face and she starts to nod before realizing Max wouldn’t see it. “Yeah, Coughfield.” What was she going to do? Ignore the wishes of a girl who was more or less going to die at any time?
Besides, the idea of cuddling with Max is hardly unpleasant.
Getting up to the pillows, Chloe holds out her arms and Max inches into them, pressing as much of herself up against Chloe as possible. Mousey brown hair nestles into her collarbone, and Chloe lays her cheek against the top of Max’s head as her small arms snake around Chloe's middle and grasp her tight.
Once they’re comfortable, Chloe quietly asks, “do you want to talk about it?” She isn’t sure what there is to say beyond what’s already been said, and the last thing she wants is to send Max into another anxious spiral with how much she’s obviously already thinking about it.
The hair beneath Chloe’s cheek wiggles back and forth, and a small, muffled, “no,” rises from her chest.
More than anything, Chloe wishes there was something she could do beyond just some half-assed comfort. She hates seeing Max so defeated. But Chloe also feels guilty as fuck.
Regardless of what happens to Coughfield, in the end, Chloe still walks out of this with a Max. Everything in her says that she owes it to this Max to save her. They wouldn't even be in this situation if Max hadn’t saved Chloe to begin with.
But she has no idea what to do here. It's not like she's got an empty Max shell laying around to throw this one into.
Even thinking of her as this one makes Chloe feel that much more guilty. It's only now that she's realizing she's stopped seeing this girl as a Max. The way she's been thinking about it, Future Max is the one that feels real now, and the girl in her arms…
She's just a doomed imitation.
And that thought makes Chloe feel like the scummiest piece of shit that Jefferson ever picked off the bottom of his creepy, expensive loafers.
So she lays with Max, and she holds her, hoping that the pitiful comfort she can offer is a cheap enough form of atonement to make up for the truth that she absolutely refuses to fucking say outloud. It's the least she can do. And Chloe is really goddamn good at doing the absolute least that she can.
For a long while, Max doesn't move, and just as Chloe is starting to think she fell asleep, she hears a tiny voice ask from beneath her collarbone, "hey Chloe?"
For one guilty second, she's excited by the thought that Future Max is finally back. She swallows the urge to smack herself as she asks, "yeah, Max?"
Pulling back from Chloe's chest, she looks up at her with the big, nervous eyes she'd seen a thousand times since first grade. "Do…" For a second she looks like she's thinking better of whatever she's about to say before pushing it all out as a single, mumbled word. "D'you'memberwheny'daredme't'kissyou?"
"Uh…" It takes a moment to actually process the question before it makes sense. "Obviously. You surprised the shit out of me when you actually did it."
"Was-" she hesitates, nervous. "Was it weird?"
"You mean kissing you?" Honestly, Chloe had been pissed at herself for being a chickenshit and pulling back. It wasn't like she hadn't thought about kissing the little dork a hundred times when they were kids, nevermind the fact that she didn’t realize that not everyone wants to kiss their best friend. "Nah. Why?"
Max's eyes fall to somewhere around Chloe's throat as she asks, "d'ya think we could kiss again?" She shrugs. "Like… for real this time?"
It's Chloe's turn to freeze. All the things this Max could want before her expiration date, and kissing Chloe tops the list? "Uh…" In the moment, she isn't sure what to say. But Max needs her right now, and Chloe owes it to her to be there for her.
And she'd be lying if she said she didn't want to kiss Max for real, too.
Max's eyes are still lingering around her collarbones, so Chloe pulls her arm from behind Max and gently places her fingers under her chin. It only takes a little pressure for her to look up at Chloe, her eyes like a deer in the headlights. It's easy to smile down at her and say, "c'mere."
Despite the nervous look on her face, Max follows Chloe’s fingers without hesitation. Chloe's eyes close, and when their lips meet, Max sighs gentle relief into her even as her hand reaches past Chloe's cheek, and fingers push into her cobalt hair and hold firm. Surprising Chloe, Max's lips move against her first, and for just a moment there's hesitation before she finds the courage that's gotten her through this insane week.
And then Max is kissing her eagerly, almost desperately, and it's all she can do to hold on as Max lets out a needy whimper and pulls her in deeper. The arm still wrapped around Max pulls her firmly against Chloe, and she's surprised for the realization of how badly she needs this.
Why had she and Max wasted so much of this week not kissing each other?
Even with as tightly as Chloe holds Max to herself, Max still finds ways to inch closer. She pushes one of her legs between Chloe's, and Max pushes her hips into hers, pushing her onto her back and holding her in place.
And then Max is on top of her, her leg clearing Chloe, straddling her lap and squeezing her, pushing her into the mattress as her lips move desperately against Chloe's. The whimper that passes her lips is automatic, and her fingers push through Max's hair before she takes a handful and pulls.
Max's breath comes in a sudden shudder as she follows Chloe's hand, melting into her direction as Chloe pulls her lips from her's.
She presses a small kiss to Max's jaw, testing the waters for how far Max wants to take this, and she answers with a soft sigh, and Chloe’s name on her lips.
Fuck, she's needed this.
It's all the permission Chloe needs to move down her neck. With each kiss, she can feel Max squirm every time her teeth brush flesh until, finally, she nips at her neck to test again. Max sucks down a surprised squeak before she exhales a low and slow groan.
Chloe desperately needs to hear that again.
Pushing her shoulders to the side, flipping Max onto her back is easy, and she melts beneath Chloe as her hands find Max's wrists and holds them to the bed above her head. Max's legs fall boneless to either side of Chloe's, and she moves to straddle Max. She rolls her hips, eliciting another whimper from the girl beneath her as her hips buck in response. The sensation of Max pushing back against her makes her stomach flutter and she sighs into Max's jaw as it angles to the side, silently begging for Chloe to keep going
Chloe runs the tip of her tongue down the length of Max's neck, feeling her squirm beneath her before another sudden nip makes her twitch. Her hips jerk up into Chloe's, earning her a drawn out, needy groan, and giving Chloe all the reason she needs to keep going.
The next bite pulls at her skin, and Max follows after with a breathy gasp of, "oh fuck, Chloe!"
Pulling back, a sly smile on her face, she asks, “yeah, Max?”
She whines, “please, don’t stop!”
Putting both of Max’s wrists into her left hand, her right trails down Max’s arm and she rolls her hips again, watching with a deep satisfaction as Max bucks and groans beneath her. “You want more, Caulfield?”
As Max opens her mouth, Chloe grinds against her again, and she hisses, “ye-s.”
Her hand brushing Max’s cheek, Chloe drags her fingertips down Max’s neck, and she turns into Chloe's touch with a needy sigh. She drags her fingers further, trailing them over her collarbones until she's over Max's shirt. Chloe's touch is featherlite as she draws small circles on her breast that earn her another whimper.
Chloe whispers, "this is okay?"
Nodding, Max's arms squirm beneath Chloe's other hand and there's urgency in her hushed tone as she commands, "take it off!"
There's a deep satisfaction in watching Max come so desperately undone, and even if Chloe knows why, it's a side of her she never thought she would see. But Chloe likes it. Really likes it.
With a grin, she leans down over Max and takes her earlobe between her teeth. It's a gentle bite, but it's still enough to drag another shudder from Max, and Chloe grinds against her again. Good as it feels, it's nothing compared to the thrill that runs through her with Max's every heavy breath.
Opening her teeth, she places a small kiss over where she'd bitten. Chloe whispers into her ear, "I need you to ask nicely."
Max's answer is an immediate, desperate, "plea-se!"
Coming up just enough, Chloe kisses her, needing to taste her again. She knows this chance might never come again, and she wants to revel in it as much as possible.
Max's kiss is rougher this time, each kiss deeper, longer, and heavier than the last before Chloe pulls back. She catches Max's lip between her teeth and gives a gentle tug that makes Max draw a deep breath, her eyes still closed as her neck arches to follow Chloe.
As Max sighs, Chloe drops a quick kiss against her lips before she grins with approval. "Good girl."
Momentarily releasing Max's hands, Chloe reaches to pull Max's shirt free, but her eyes never leave Max's big, doe eyes. She keeps her arms above her head, and every shuddering breath is another request to go further. As she pulls the top up, Max arches her back to help it along, and Chloe lets her grab it, before Max tosses it somewhere over Chloe's shoulder.
For just a second Chloe stares down at Max with something like awe. Even as Max arches her back, reaching back to undo the clasp of her bra, it's kind of hard to register this moment as real. Chloe would be lying if she said she hadn't thought about this more than once after Max had left, but now that it is, her fingers are shaking.
Max’s bra slackens as the clasp comes free, and Chloe helps her pull it up off of her arms and tosses it with as little regard as she’d done with her shirt.
She can’t help but to nervously lick her lips as she stares down at Max, her faux-confidence wavering for just a second as the moment becomes all the more real. Her fingers gently trace the outline of her breast as she asks, “you’re sure?”
“How many times do I have to ask you to touch me?” Max laughs, her own nerves clear despite her insistence.
Chloe’s fingers circle Max’s nipple and she can feel her heartbeat pick up. As many times as she’d been with Rachel and somehow she’s as giddy and nervous as she was the first time again. Taking the bud of it between her fingers she gives a gentle roll at first, and draws a gentle whine from Max that makes her heart flutter.
Hiding the smile that comes to her lips, she leans down and kisses Max’s chest, giving another gentle roll of her fingers as she works her way up to Max’s neck. She nips at her again, feeling Max’s stomach clench beneath her for just a second as she gasps, and then she’s kissing her again, fiercer this time.
Every roll of her fingers sends a little shiver through Max, and as her tongue enters Max’s mouth, she can’t quite keep a groan of her own from slipping out. Every little noise Max makes is one more that Chloe never knew she needed in her life, and each one makes her just a little wetter to hear them.
Suddenly, Max pulls back and for a second Chloe is afraid this is over. But then Max gasps, “take your shirt off!”
“W-What?”
“I want to see you, Chloe.” Her breath shudders as Chloe’s fingers continue to work at her nipple, and Max quietly adds a shy, “please?”
For real, who’s in charge here?
But then Chloe nods, reaching for the hem of her shirt on automatic. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Chloe’s fingers shake as her top clears her head, and she almost laughs at the ridiculous fear that rises that Max will be disappointed in her tiny tits. But she shakes it off, pulling her bra off just as fast, and she watches with a deep satisfaction as Max’s breath catches in her throat.
“Like what you see, Caulfield?” She can’t keep the cocky grin off of her face.
Max’s confidence seems to waver as she stutters, “c-can I-?”
“Yes!” Chloe urges, as she takes Max’s nipples in each hand, drawing a surprised gasp from her as she reaches for Chloe. It’s cute the way her fingers visibly shake, and she touches Chloe softly, almost reverently, her hands starting at her stomach, tracing her sides, and moving up to her breasts. Leaning into her touch, Chloe nods, a small smile on her face. “That’s good.”
Max’s touch is gentle, her movements hesitant as Chloe continues her ministrations, drawing quiet whimpers from her. Max holds her hands where they are for a long moment before taking Chloe’s nipples gently between her fingers. Her touch is light, her fingers still shaking a little as she softly rubs the buds between her fingers.
Letting Max take her time, Chloe nods her along. “You can be rougher if you want.”
For a second Max stares at her in confusion before she closes her fingers around them and gives an experimental roll that brings a small breath of satisfaction from her.
Time stretches out between them as Chloe and Max take their time with one another. She still can’t believe it’s happening, and everything in her is giddy like she hasn’t been in years.
Finally, Chloe breaks the silence between them. “Do you want my mouth?”
Biting her lip, Max only nods staring up at her with big eyes as her hands retreat to her sides.
Moving from her straddle, Chloe siddles up beside Max and she looks her in the eye for a moment before looking down at her chest. She only starts with the tip of her tongue as she draws a small circle around, and Max makes another soft sound that urges Chloe to go further. Taking the bud of it into her mouth she gives a gentle suck, holds it between her teeth, and gives a light flick with her tongue.
Max squirms beneath her and takes a shuddering breath, her hand moving up to push through Chloe’s hair as she continues. They lay like that for a while, Max’s soft whimpers the only sound in the room as her body squirms beneath Chloe, her fingers twitching gently through her hair.
It’s with a small sudden tug that sends a thrill through her that Max pulls at her hair. “Kiss me again.”
Chloe releases her nipple and looks up at her with a cocked eyebrow, waiting.
“Please?” Max adds almost desperately.
Chloe nods with a cocky smile, moving back up to press her lips to Max’s and their tongues dance immediately, sliding together with a clumsy familiarity. Despite their closed eyes, she feels Max find her hand and she slips her fingers between Chloe’s giving a small squeeze and holds it tightly.
It’s sweet how gentle she is, and even though it’s nothing like what Chloe had ever done with Rachel, somehow the softness makes the moments feel all the more special as she does what she’d only ever dreamed of.
Finally, Max takes her hand and places it gently over the top of her jeans, giving a small, but insistent press against her hips. For just a second, Chloe pulls back, bewildered as the realization of what Max wants crosses her mind.
“You mean you want me to-?”
Before she can even finish the question Max nods, “please.”
Not that she wants to by any means, but how can Chloe say no to those big blue eyes? She pulls her hand back and places it on the flat of her stomach, her nerves building as she tries not to let them get the better of her.
Max actually wants her to…
Okay.
Taking a deep breath, Chloe’s hand moves slowly down Max’s stomach, and she can feel Max trying to angle her hips to hurry the process. A grin pulls at Chloe’s lips and, as her fingers pass her navel, she stops at the waist of Max’s jeans where her finger draws lazy circles, dipping just beneath the denim for a moment before coming back out.
Beneath her, Max whines, her breath coming in frustrated huffs every time Chloe’s finger retreats. Her words are hushed and needy as she whispers, “Chlo-e please.” She rocks her hips in time with every descent of her finger, trying to urge Chloe on. “Please. Before I’m gone I-” She hesitantly whines, her words a rushed whisper. “I want this so badly!”
Chloe’s circles get steadily larger, and the grin pulls tighter as she pushes further into Max’s jeans, eliciting a sigh of relief from her that quickly cuts off as her finger retreats again. It’s only then that the meaning behind Max’s words registers, and her finger stops on the downswing of another slip beneath her jeans.
Kissing Max, making her desperate until she needs Chloe's touch, makes her beg for it, is something she wants. She wants to make Max quiver beneath her, to see the look on her face when she comes, and see the way she gasps and bucks when she does. Chloe wants to feel her collapse, limp in her lap, and kiss her again while she recovers before showing Max exactly what her tongue can do for her.
But it’s with an almost damning realization that she wants that with the… the right Max.
And this one… she's A Max, but she's not the right one. She's not the one who's going to be in this body, soon.
If Future Max doesn't want this with Chloe when she replaces Temp Max, should Chloe be doing it with the one in front of her? Does This Max actually have the right to do what she wants with a body that, for all intents and purposes, doesn't belong to her anymore?
The one thing Chloe knows for sure is that she can't fuck things up with Future Max. She's gotten a week with her best friend for the first time in 5 years, and whether she gets to fuck her or not, Chloe wants more than a week with her again.
If there were a Chloe, rather than a Max in this situation, she wants to think she would understand. But could Max be okay knowing that, while Chloe might not have had sex with her, she'd done it with the body she's in?
Chloe's so wrapped up in the question, it takes her a second to realize that the Max in front of her is grinding against her outstretched hand, whimpering her name as Chloe's fingers reflexively respond to her desperate need. Her resolve wavers against the slick fabric beneath her fingers and they slip over Max without resistance. She knows that she shouldn’t, but she can’t quite bring herself to keep her fingers from stroking the length of her clit; not when every desperate moan and whimper from This Max is urging her on.
As she prays for Future Max’s forgiveness, there’s a sound like a blast that shakes the windows from across the room. Before Chloe can even look, she can hear the glass shatter. Immediately, she and Max spring apart, and Chloe gives a quiet thank you to whatever is looking out for her for intervening.
It takes a second to notice, but there’s a low, whistling roar in her ears that won’t go away, and the continuous, heavy drumming of rain falling from the sky in thick drops. Looking at the broken window over her desk, Chloe realizes the high-pitched rumble is the wind, buffeting the house and throwing debris haphazardly through the air.
By her bedroom door, there’s a red, half-deflated rubber dodgeball coming to rest against the baseboard.
Max’s voice hits her ear a second later, and she can hear her muttering frantically to herself. “Fuck. No no no no no no no, she didn’t fix it. She didn’t fix anything!”
Chloe swallows hard, the intensity of the moments before gone from her mind as a rock settles in her stomach. “Max? Is this-?”
“It’s the storm! She didn’t stop it.” Sliding off of the bed, Max barely avoids stepping on some larger shards of glass strewn about the floor as she reaches for her messenger bag. She flips open her bag and digs for a moment before her hand pulls back, clutching her journal in a white-knuckled claw.
The same journal she keeps her pictures in.
Suddenly, Chloe’s tongue feels dry as the realization dawns on her. “Max? What are you doing?” She already knows the answer, but Chloe wants to hear it from her, praying that she’s wrong.
Shaking her head, Max won’t meet her eye as she holds her notebook in her hands like a lifeline. Her voice is hollow and shaky as she mutters over the din of the coming apocalypse. “She couldn’t fix it, Chloe. I can’t let this happen.”
Chloe wants to grab Max and shake her. “I don’t think this is something even you can make go away, Max!” How many times is she going to try to fuck with time before she's satisfied?
Opening her notebook, she still won’t look at Chloe as she flips page after page. “I have to try, Chloe! If Future Me couldn’t do this, then I have to.” Finding the polaroid she’s looking for, Max finally looks up at her with a pained expression. Almost like she’s trying to convince herself, she says it again. “I have to.”
“Max, you can’t-” Is all Chloe can get out before Max’s eyes drop to the photo in her hand.
Feeling herself freeze up, all she can do is watch as Max stares into the picture. Part of her expects to just stop existing, and she can’t help but wonder what it will feel like. But a second stretches into five, to fifteen, thirty, forty, and finally Max gives the polaroid a hard shake.
“Come on!” Max shakes it again. Her breath comes in sharp gasps and suddenly, she flings the photo from herself. The panic is plain on her face as she reaches her right hand into the air in front of her like she’s reaching for a doorknob. For another long moment, she sits there, staring after the picture before suddenly, she sucks in a shuddering breath and collapses in on herself.
Chloe immediately reaches for her, wrapping her arms around Max before she can fall limp to the floor. She pulls Max into her lap and holds her tight against her chest. She does her best to stay calm, but even she can hear the way her voice shakes. “Talk to me, Max.”
The words are so quiet, Chloe almost misses them.
“She took my powers.”
Her powers?
At a loss, Chloe hears herself stupidly ask, "what do you-? How?”
Looking like she’s in shock, Max nods slowly. “In the kitchen earlier. I dropped a glass, and I tried five times to rewind to fix it.” She shrugs, a humorless laugh falling into her lap. “I thought it might have been because of the weed. But…” Max pushes out a heavy sigh and shakes her head, looking lost.
“So…?” Chloe licks her lips, suddenly aware of how dry they feel despite the humid air ripping through the town outside. “When Future Max came to talk to me, she-?”
Max finishes the thought for her. “She took my powers with her. Because after that, I was just a placeholder, Chloe.” There’s an empty resignation for her fate in those words that tears at Chloe’s heart.
Placeholder or not, no version of Max deserves this.
As if the rest of this week hadn’t already made Chloe feel too small for everything happening around her, now she’s almost paralyzed with the realization of her insignificance. “So…” she shrugs, lost. “What do we do?”
Chloe’s been fooling herself thinking she could even be in control enough to be considered a sidekick. All of this is so much bigger than her, and… just maybe… it's all her fault, too?
It's not the first time the thought has crossed her mind, but now, knowing that so many Max's have failed to stop this thing since saving Chloe from dying in that bathroom… maybe that was her fate all along?
Maybe Chloe Price's story was meant to end on the cold blue tile of a school for rich fucks, shot in the gut by the motherfucker that tried to drug her.
Seems fitting enough if you ask her.
For an agonizingly long moment Max is silent staring at their knees as she leans into Chloe, completely limp. But then her head raises, and she sucks down an almost reverent gasp before she whispers, "the lighthouse.”
"What about it?" Now that Chloe can see the consequences of Max having bought her life, survival suddenly seems like the most selfish thing she's done. And Chloe knows selfishness like the back of a joint.
Pushing away from her, she lets Max go as she gets to her feet, stepping around the glass as almost an afterthought. "We need to go to the lighthouse. It's where I always was in my visions of the storm." She turns and looks back at Chloe with a frantic anxiety in her eyes. With more conviction, she says again, "we need to go to the lighthouse."
But Chloe shakes her head. Arcadia Bay doesn't deserve this. Not for her. She's been nothing but a skidmark on the fucking world for the last five years. If Max knew even half of the stupid shit she'd wasted her's and other people's time doing… "Max I… I don't deserve to survive this."
Max snaps back at her immediately, "shut up, Chloe. I didn't spend this entire fucking week keeping you alive only for you to give up now." The sudden fire in her eyes reminds Chloe of Rachel, and she can't help but want to follow her for it. Max's voice is quieter when she says. "Get the things you can't live without in a bag, and then get us there Chloe. You can take this up with Her once I'm gone." She smiles bitterly. "Until then, I'm going to do what I can to save you one last time."
How the fuck Chloe made it five years without Max, she'll never know. Fuck knows how different her life would have been if she'd been here, but at least she's gotten a week to get a taste of what it could have been. "Lead the way, Maximus."
She doesn't take much, just the things that mean the most to her: The tin box by her bed, the stupid pirate cd she and Max made so long ago, the box of photos, her sharpie, that ratty pirate towel, her tubes of dye, a change of clothes, her weed, and one of Rachel's posters.
And then they're out the door.
The streets are chaotic, and people are driving like crazy fucking assholes trying to get out of town. In the background, Chloe can just make out something massive, grey, and angry forming in a swirling mass out over the ocean. And it's getting a little bigger, a little closer every second.
Neither she or Max say anything on the drive.
Well… Chloe cusses out every idiot shithead swerving through the streets, obviously.
But other than that? The cab is silent.
For a while, the storm is blocked by the trees, and they even keep the wind at bay for the most part. But then they round the bend of the parking lot and are faced with the spinning death funnel. It makes Chloe think of a tiny-ass hurricane, and the feeling of her insignificance grows just a bit more.
Doors of the truck slamming shut, her words are lost to the wind as she whispers, "Jesus fuck."
Chloe runs from where she parked the truck to the edge of the lot and stares up at the cost of saving her worthless life. If she'd known that this was what saving her meant… if Max had known… would she still have done it?
From behind her, she hears a sudden wild relief in Max's voice. "Oh Chloe!"
A body crashes into her back, and familiar arms wrap tight around her.
Chloe hadn't even gotten to say goodbye…
For just a second, the memory of kissing Max lingers on her lips, and It's a bitter realization, knowing that the girl she spent the coming apocalypse with will only ever exist in her memory. She was a side of Max that Chloe would likely never see again, and in a morbid way, she's glad she got to meet her.
The girl hugging her now… she could never be that Max.
Max Fucking Coughfield…
Maybe she would tell Max about her one day.
Maybe.
Still, she can't quite push down the guilty thought that comes from her mouth. "I see that the real Max is back..." And she hates herself just a little more for having said it.