Archive of Our Own

How?

This had been the only question tormenting Max’s brain, ever since the moment she saw her silhouette in between the headlights of her truck: her hair a tiny bit longer, her shoulders broader. And yet still, unmistakably…

Chloe.

Max had almost stopped breathing altogether, the shock taking hold of her body, rooting her in place, the police sirens barely registering in her brain. The whole Abraxas House could have crashed and burned behind her, and Max wouldn’t even have noticed.

“Hey Max,” Chloe had said. “Heard you were in trouble.”

“This is impossible,” was the only thing Max had been able to mutter.

The drive to Max’s house had been quiet for the most part.

Max was sitting there, her head spinning, trying to make sense of Chloe’s presence next to her: it could be Safi playing a sick trick on her, or a twisted hallucination her exhausted brain conjured up after rewinding one time too much today.

But no.

Chloe was here, in the flesh, her eyes on road as she drove way, way less recklessly than she did back when they were teenagers.

She was an older version of the Chloe Max knew: she could see her tattoo peeking out from under her jacket, albeit covered in black now, and her blue hair had been swapped for a beautiful emerald green framing her face. But even with these differences, Max could still recognize her Chloe: her punk rock style, her kind blue eyes, her small mannerisms Max could never forget. She could recognize her in the way she gripped the wheel in the same way she did all those years ago, in the path her index took down her temple when she was tired, in how she carried herself.

But this shouldn’t be possible, how–

“Hey uh,” Chloe’s voice snapped Max out of her thoughts. “I know we’ve not seen each other in quite a bit, but what’s up with the gawking?”

Max’s jaw snapped shut with an audible sound, her cheeks reddening under the other woman’s teasing tone. Yup, definitely Chloe.

“Right, sorry,” she breathed out shakily. “I just don’t understand how you’re here.”

Hey, first time of the evening she could string so many words together. There was still hope for her yet.

Chloe turned her head towards her, a confused yet amused look on her face. “Well, I drove here, duh.”

The grovel cracked under the wheels of the truck as they arrived at Max’s house.

“No, I mean…” Max flexed her temples under her fingers as Chloe killed the engine and got out, then walked around the car to open her door. “How did you find me?”

“Oh, I was at a bar in town, looking for you. I got in a fight before even entering the bar, can you believe that?” She laughed, throwing her a wink as she took her duffel bag from the back seat. “I was asking around and got acquainted with the bartender and with that weird professor, who apparently knew you. He didn’t seem to like you very much. Then I got in a fight with that security guard, and she almost threw me out again. And then her walkie went off, and I heard that someone was creeping around an abandoned building. I didn’t really need the skeezy professor to tell me it was you.”

Now even more questions were rushing in Max’s head. Why was Chloe talking as if nothing happened? As if she didn’t die a decade ago because of a choice Max made on that fatal night in October, killing the girl she loved and almost killing herself in the process? Why–

“Max? You’re kind of… staring a lot.”

That snapped her out of her thoughts again. Max shook her head under Chloe’s concerned frown, pointing to the door leading to her cabin. “Let’s just head in.”

She chose to ignore the odd stare Chloe was sending her way, instead heading towards her front door with the other woman in tow. As soon as Chloe took a step inside, she let out a low whistle. “Nice place you got for yourself here, hippie.”

Hippie. The memories came back all at once, shaking Max to her core.  If she had still had any more doubts that it was her Chloe, that would’ve been all the confirmation she would have needed.

How–

“Max, we have a lot to catch up on,” Chloe interrupted her thoughts, her eyes gentle as she looked at her. “But I’ve been awake since Indianapolis.”

That snapped Max out of the trance she was in. “Of course… uh– take my bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”

But God, Max wanted to talk now, understand the presence of the woman in front of her, hug her, take her in, pull her into her body and pray she wouldn’t vanish overnight, press her fingers against her heart and get the confirmation that Chloe was here, with her, present and warm under the skin of Max’s fingers. Alive.

But instead, she guided Chloe up the stairs, hand shaking against the railing.

“I’m not sure I understand anything right now. But I’m… glad you’re here,” Max sighed, and then pointed at her bed. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” Chloe smiled, barely stifling a yawn.

She crashed unceremoniously on her stomach on the left side of the bed, outside clothes and shoes still on.

“Hey! Shoes off the bed.”

Chloe’s groan got muffled into the pillow, but Max could still hear it. It made a smile pull at her lips.

“Fine,” Chloe complied as she turned around and straightened back up, pulling at the laces of her boots. “You’re lucky you’re hot when you’re bossy.”

And oh my God. If Max’s cheeks were flushed earlier, they were damn crimson now. Chloe seemed to notice, her eyebrow raising teasingly, but she had the decency to not say anything.

“I uh-” Max stammered, choosing to ignore Chloe’s comment for her own good. “I have extra pyjamas I can lend you. You are not sleeping in there in your outside clothes, either.”

Chloe’s eyeroll was immediate but affectionate. “Fine, Mom.”

Max chuckled at Chloe’s petulance. That hasn’t changed a bit. She opened her drawer, chucking her the largest T-shirt she owned, with a pair of sleep shorts, smiling at Chloe’s oof when the garments hit her in the face. Max watched with a grin as the woman peeled the shirt off her face.

“‘World’s Sexiest Grandma?’” Chloe read out loud. “Seriously, Max?”

The photographer could only laugh out loud now. “What? If the shoe fits,” she shrugged, biting her bottom lip to refrain from smiling under Chloe’s bewildered look.

“Oh, you little–”

“I’ll let you change,” Max cut her off. “I need to take a shower.”

She gathered her sleeping clothes quickly, making a beeline for the bathroom under Chloe’s incredulous stare.

“I’m only one year older than you, you know!” Chloe yelled a beat too late, the sound of her voice muffled by the bathroom door.

As soon as she was inside, Max let out a long breath, head dropping against the wooden door. She took a moment to relax, breathing in and out slowly, thinking the whole past hour over. Chloe… was there. An adult, mature version of the girl Max saw for the last time. But it was her, in a thousand little ways. In every way.

God, Max was going to be sick.

The trip under the shower was short and effective. Max was almost scared that Chloe would have disappeared when she would come out of the bathroom. She expected to wake up at each scrub of soap across her skin, inevitably waiting for the Universe to get up to date, crash in Max’s life again with a surprised “Oh wait, that wasn’t supposed to happen!” and separate them again.

But when Max came back to her bedroom, Chloe was still there, solid and present and laying on her bed, with her breathing evened out and her eyes closed. She had swapped her punk clothes for Max’s goofy T-shirt and shorts, and the sight of Chloe in her pyjamas made an overwhelming feeling of something flare up in her stomach.

The feeling was distant but definitely not foreign: it transported her back to a decade ago, to a Max who was eleven years younger, but still choked up by the same feelings, by the same burning warmth in her stomach at Chloe’s antics, at Chloe’s stupid dares, at Chloe’s undeniable loyalty, at Chloe being herself.

Some things never change.

The green-haired girl must have been exhausted because she hadn’t even bothered to get under the covers and switch off the lights. Max shook her head affectionately, taking a moment to maneuver Chloe under the covers, and another to stare at her peaceful face, this time without the woman asking her what was wrong with her. Max could not resist pushing a green strand out of her eyes softly, a tender smile on her face, before stepping away.

Okay, now what?

She made her way to the stairs of the cabin, not wanting to make Chloe uncomfortable but unwilling to sleep on the couch, not wanting to be too far from her. So, the staircase it is.

Her head dropped against the railing. She was so tired, yet she felt unable to close her eyes, still feeling knocked out by Chloe’s presence. How was she even here? The theory about Safi had quickly been dismissed in Max’s mind: the woman could take one’s appearance but not their personality, and Max knew it was her Chloe sleeping in the bed next to her. She didn’t seem to be a hallucination either: Max had had hallucinations due to her powers in the past, and never had they felt so real and accurate. They had always been twisted, a reflection of her worst insecurities. So no, Chloe couldn’t be an illusion. God, how Max wished Moses could help her out right now.

“You gonna sit there all night?” Chloe’s sleep-addled voice broke the silence all of a sudden, making Max jump.

“Jesus, Chloe, you scared me,” she sighed, hand resting against her racing heart, willing for it to calm down. “I’m just… resting my legs. It’s been a strange, long day.”

There was a silence, before Chloe spoke up again. “Cut the shit and get over here. I’m not letting you sleep in your damn staircase.”

Max couldn’t even argue, catching Chloe’s determined expression in the soft light of her lamp. She got up slowly, making her way to the right side of the bed.

“I know we– I left things in a weird place for us last time we saw each other,” Chloe grimaced at Max’s hesitance at the edge of the mattress. “But we can let things go for tonight and talk about it tomorrow morning?”

The words made Max’s head spin again. “Last time we saw each other?” She could only repeat mindlessly, the questions fusing in her head once more at the implication.

“Well yeah, before I sent you that stupid letter–” Chloe’s voice cut as Max felt her shoulders drop and her body sag all at once. She sat on her bed, head spinning, suddenly overwhelmed by Chloe’s presence.

The bed dipped next to her as Chloe sat upright, a worried look plastered on her face, and leaned close. Her hand came to stroke Max’s back over her T-shirt, tracing idle shapes gently, patiently. Max’s head dropped on Chloe’s solid shoulder, and fuck. She smelled the same way she did all those years ago: a faint trace of smoke, of course, mixed with leather, cinnamon and something else entirely Chloe. Max’s breath started shaking slightly at that, at the familiarity yet strangeness of it all, hoping that Chloe wouldn’t catch it. But of course, the other woman noticed. Her hand drew up, going from caressing Max’s back to scratching the back of her head lightly.

Max felt herself relax immediately under the woman’s touch, as if Chloe knew exactly how to touch her to calm her down.

Max didn’t even know how much time they spent like that, with her body curled into Chloe’s, the woman’s hand tracing incoherent patterns between the small of her back and the base of her neck.

Chloe was the first one to break the silence. “Can you tell me what’s going on, Max?” she asked softly. “You’ve been all weird since I’ve arrived.”

Max’s breath caught in her throat again, but she was able to look up, meeting Chloe’s concerned expression, her beautiful blue eyes filled with worry. God, she could feel her heart in her throat.

“I don’t– I’m scared you’re gonna disappear,” Max stammered out incoherently, fingers curling around Chloe’s wrist, needing to feel her pulse under her fingers.

“I’m not gonna leave this time. I swear.”

“No, you don’t–” Max hiccupped, shaking her head. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand, Max,” Chloe said patiently. “What’s wrong?”

Tears began to prickle at the corners of her eyes, and Max took a deep breath, reluctantly sitting upright to look into Chloe’s eyes.

“I don’t know how to tell you this.”

The woman smiled softly. “Take all the time you need.”

Breathe in, breathe out. She could do this.

“Chloe, you– you’re supposed to be dead.”

Max watched as Chloe’s mouth opened, then closed. “What?”

“You died eleven years ago when you asked me to rewind the week we spent together in high school to stop the storm. You saved Arcadia Bay, Chloe.”

“What? No, Max you–” Chloe stopped talking, her eyes closing, a deep frown appearing on her face, as if she was trying to think hard about something. “You saved me that week. The storm destroyed Arcadia Bay.”

Max felt her head spin once more. “That’s impossible.”

But Chloe didn’t seem to hear her, looking lost in her thoughts now, mouth opening hesitantly. “Wait… I texted my mom this morning. How is it even possible? She died in the storm. I… remember feeling so guilty because I got to live and she didn’t.”

“Chloe, your mom is alive.”

“I’ve been getting visions these past few months,” Chloe continued to spiral, ignoring her. “Of me, dying on the Blackwell bathroom floor. I know it’s not real, but it feels so… And when I met your friend when I was looking for you, she looked at me like she’d seen a ghost.”

Max couldn’t help but bring her fingers around Chloe’s wrist again, doing her best to anchor her.

“I should be dead,” Chloe breathed out, eyes lost somewhere behind Max. “Why am I not dead? Am I a ghost?”

“Of course not!”

Max’s thumb pressed on Chloe’s pulse point, feeling her heart thundering under her skin. Her other hand came up to Chloe’s cheek, pulling her attention towards her before the woman could get overwhelmed again. She had as many questions as her but pulling Chloe out of her spiraling mind was her number one priority right now.

“Hey, look at me.”

Chloe looked up, finally meeting Max’s eyes. Her expression was so lost, her blue eyes so scared, Max couldn’t help but brush a thumb against her cheekbone. It was like the world stopped around them for a moment, and Max’s powers had nothing to do with that.

Max let out a long breath, taking one of Chloe’s hands that had gripped at Max’s elbow in the middle of it all without her even noticing. She placed it delicately on Chloe’s pulse point on her jugular, covering her hand with hers, leaving her to feel her own beating heart. It took a moment for Chloe to relax, her breathing deepening with every passing second, her shoulders dropping gradually.

“Feel that? You are alive, Chloe,” Max whispered with a soft smile. “I don’t exactly understand how, but you are, and I couldn’t be more grateful.”

Chloe’s breath shook one last time, before she opened her eyes. “Thank you,” she let out shakily.

They stayed like that for God knows how long, taking in each other’s presence, enjoying the comfortable silence. You’re here, I’m here. We’re gonna be okay.

Chloe was the first one to break the silence, pulling away but not disconnecting their hands that stayed intertwined between them. “Max, do you have any… theories as to why and how I’m here?”

Max bit her lip. She could only think of one event that may have caused Chloe’s presence with her in this moment.

“You said you’ve been having visions for the past few months. Did they start in December?”

Chloe frowned. “How did you know?”

Shit. The events of last December came back rushing in: Safi, dead in one reality and alive in the other, Max choosing not to kill her at the Overlook, her crossing through the two timelines and in the end merging both timelines together…

“I have a friend, Safi. She has powers too. She died last year, before Christmas,” Max explained, albeit shakily. Chloe’s hands pressed against hers in comfort, and Max sent her a small smile. “The day after she died, I discovered I could cross between two timelines: one where Safi was dead, and the other where she wasn’t. In the end, I merged them back together, and Safi came back alive. So, I’m starting to think… maybe I merged more than that?”

Chloe let out a heavy breath, a visible frown on her face. “Okay, so you think I was alive in the timeline where Safi was too? And that you made both of us come back and merged the timeline so that Arcadia Bay and I could coexist in the same reality?”

“It’s only a theory. We should go see my friend Moses tomorrow, he’s been studying my powers for a while. He will be able to help.”

Chloe nodded, her eyes tired. “That’s a lot of information for one night.”

“I know,” Max breathed out a laugh. “But I’m really, really glad you’re here. I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Yeah, I’m glad I’m here, too,” Chloe yawned. “It feels so good to see you.”

Max smiled. Chloe was so cute with her sleepy eyes and messy emerald hair, her arms stretching out above her head making her joints pop. Max’s stupid World’s Sexiest Grandma T-shirt was just a bit too small for her and had her abs peeking and her arms straining against the fabric, and shit, when did Chloe get so– head out of the gutter, Max.

The photographer took her head, blinking hard under Chloe’s teasing smile. Fuck. She totally caught up to Max’s staring. “That’s not very professional, Professor Caulfield.”

Max could feel her cheeks burning. “Uh– technically it’s only Instructor Caulfield for now.”

Wow. Real eloquent, Max.

Finally detaching her eyes from Chloe’s bicep, Max found her stare caught on something else, that had been partly covered by her jacket earlier. In the place where the other woman’s complicated tattoo was once inked on her right arm –all cranes, ribbons, butterflies, vines and roses, all Chloe– now displayed a black sleeve tattoo. Her arm was all blacked out, the cover up not even letting a smear of her old tattoo show at her wrist, whereas she could still catch a glimpse of the older design below her shoulder.

“When did you do that?” She asked, pointing her chin at Chloe’s arm.

The woman looked at her, a confused frown on her face that quickly morphed into sad understanding. “About a year after the storm destroyed Arcadia Bay. I spent so much time pondering if I was really gonna cover it or leave the old design. You… Well, you from my timeline, helped me a lot with that decision. You came with me to the tattoo shop and stayed with me the whole way through.”

Chloe’s eyes were lost now, a small melancholic smile on her lips. And Max couldn’t help but feel some jealousy towards herself. It was stupid right? She knew it was, but she couldn’t help but envy all the years her other self got to have with Chloe. What would have happened if she chose to sacrifice Arcadia Bay that day, to selfishly cradle Chloe in her arms and keep her close and safe, to get to grow with her? She would never get to experience it. Instead, Max ended up alone, feeling like a shell of her own making, a ghost traveling without purpose.

But would the guilt of sacrificing a whole town have been possible to manage, even with Chloe at her side? She didn’t even know.

As if she knew exactly what she was thinking, Chloe put her hand over Max’s, lacing their fingers together.

“Max. What’s the last memory of me– of us you have? Before today.”

Chloe’s question was so simple yet so complicated. I saw you for the last time disappear behind the trees next to the lighthouse, when you told me I should undo the whole week and leave you to die. I saw you for the last time on a Monday getting shot by Nathan Prescott in a shitty bathroom with you not even remembering the week we spent together, with you thinking I didn’t care about you. I saw you for the last time last night, because I still see blue hair and ocean eyes whenever I close my eyelids, even after eleven years.

How could she even answer, when these five days a decade ago had seemed to last a lifetime? Max couldn’t even remember how many alternate realities she went through during these days. Moments flashed in her mind: San Francisco, the Darkroom, Victoria’s body next to her in one reality, then gone in the other, Nathan’s voicemail, David above Jefferson’s body, then Chloe. Chloe’s call when Max was in San Francisco, Chloe holding her hand outside of the Vortex Party, Chloe helping her weak body advance in the storm, Chloe–

In the end, all roads had led to Chloe, and making sure she was alive. But despite everything, Max had still made a choice. One that didn’t save her.

“The last memory I have of us was during the storm, when I chose to save Arcadia Bay and rewind the week we spent together.”

“What happened there?” Chloe asked softly, thumb pressing against Max’s wrist.

Max still remembered that day as if it were yesterday: Chloe’s easy acceptance when she understood her decision, the way Max had pulled her in, kissing her oh so softly. This kiss had felt like something building up for years, even before Max left for Seattle. It had been something she hadn’t been able to name at that time, that had come back to hit her in the face during that whole week, from Chloe almost crashing into Max with her truck, to her leading her into the Blackwell corridors in the middle of the night, to the pool, to her stupid dare. And of course, Max could never forget the relief she had felt when she left the reality where William was still alive, but where Chloe was so miserable to come back to her universe, to the Chloe with pretty tattoos and blue hair: she had wanted to kiss her again right there on the spot.

So, in the storm, Max did kiss her. She remembered the rain of the storm mixing with the salt of her tears – or were they Chloe’s tears? – on her lips, closing her eyes as the blue-haired girl took a second to react, then leaned into her as Max used a hand to angle her face. It had felt so, so right, even with Chloe’s shaking hands against her waist, but the finality of it all had left her feeling like a hole was being carved into Max’s chest. To know what Chloe’s lips and body felt against her own but not be able to experience it ever again had made a mess out of her. She had asked herself a thousand questions then:  what would have happened if Max never left for Seattle? If she had kept contact with Chloe during those five years? If she had sacrificed Arcadia Bay and saved Chloe instead?

“When I made a choice, you understood it immediately. I… kissed you goodbye,” Max blushed at the admission, as a surprised smile made its way to Chloe’s face. Fuck. Max didn’t know what happened between this Chloe and her Max after the storm, so this might get a bit awkward, but she had chosen to be honest with how she remembered it. And if the other Max and herself were the exact same person until she had to make that fateful choice, then she knew both of them had shared the exact same feelings that week. She just didn’t know what the other Max had done with them. “After that, you asked me to never forget you, and walked away,” she continued. “And then I went back into the photo and… I had to hide in a corner and not do anything as I heard you get shot by Nathan Prescott in Blackwell’s shitty bathroom.”

Max didn’t realize she was crying until she felt Chloe’s thumb on her cheek, wiping off a stray tear that was falling down her cheek.

“Come here, Super Max,” she whispered, opening her arms.

Max didn’t even think about it twice, almost throwing herself into Chloe’s warm embrace as the tears started to flow freely, eyes burning with the memories of that day. The green-haired woman maneuvered them so that they were lying down over the sheets, Max’s face pressed into her neck as one of Chloe’s arms circled her waist, the other coming up to stroke her hair gently. Max’s hands clutched at the World’s Sexiest Grandma T-shirt on reflex, to keep Chloe as close as humanly possible.

Last time Max had felt this safe, it had been eleven years ago, cradled by Chloe’s body and presence. After the storm, Max had thought it impossible to happen again. Yet there she was, in the arms of the woman she thought she would never see again – she should’ve never seen again – enveloped by her warmth, her smell, and everything that made her Chloe Price.

She let her eyes close and the comfortable silence envelop them, only cut by the sound of her occasional sniffing.

Chloe was the first to break the silence. “I can’t believe I asked you to never forget me and then walked away. How dramatic of me.”

That made a wet laugh bubble out of Max’s chest. “Right. Very on brand for you.”

“Yet you still kissed me, huh?”

This had Max pull away from the comfort of Chloe’s neck to glance at her in disbelief, a smile blooming on her lips.

“Oh my God, Chloe,” Max let out a laugh. “Is that the only thing you took away from this?”

“No. Truthfully Max, I don’t even know how you got through all of this alone,” Chloe said, placing both of her hands on Max’s cheeks, her eyes now dead serious. “Listen to me. You were barely eighteen when you got your powers, with all the responsibilities and hard decisions that came with them. You shouldn’t even have had to deal with that, yet despite everything you made it through, because you are so, so damn strong, Max Caulfield.”

“Chloe…” Max could only breathe out, tears threatening to well up in her eyes again.

“But aside from your account of that traumatic day? Yes, the kiss is pretty much all I took away.”

Max hit her chest in protest with a hey! and oh God Chloe’s smile. Max could take a thousand pictures and write hundreds of journal pages about that smile, and it wouldn’t even be close to enough.

“Chloe, I know I’ve said it already, but I don’t think words can encapsulate how grateful and happy I am that you’re here. It feels like I’ve been spending the last eleven years dreaming of being able to see you and hold you again.”

Chloe looked a little emotional at that. Her hand came up to gently brush along Max’s jaw, then traveled up her cheek, tracing her nose, then her eyebrow. “I’m not going anywhere, Maximus. And I don’t know what I did to deserve getting back into your life like that, but I want you to know I’m not taking this second chance for granted.”

Max felt her heart swell at Chloe’s words. And fuck, Chloe’s hands were so soft traveling on her skin, her smell so familiar and so intoxicating, her presence still feeling so fragile –as if she could disappear if Max blinked– but so real. And oh.

Max wanted to kiss her.

But she wouldn’t dare, not without knowing…

“Can you tell me what happened after the storm? To Arcadia Bay, to us?”

Chloe’s face sobered up immediately. Her fingers stopped moving, her hand dropping until it sat right above Max’s beating heart, fidgeting with the fabric of her top. It took her a moment to speak out.

“Right when the storm ended, we took my truck and drove out of town. The storm had left Arcadia Bay in ruins, and some people survived. But you were depressed, heavily traumatized and feeling guilty of all these people’s deaths. You couldn’t stand the rain, and you couldn’t even take photos anymore.”

Max grimaced at that. She remembered very well the feeling of emptiness, of guilt that followed her after Chloe’s death, of nights spent weeping into her pillow and wishing darkness would swallow her whole.

“Having one death on my conscience was hard enough,” she admitted, avoiding Chloe’s gaze. “I can’t imagine a whole town.”

The other woman read her perfectly, her fingers coming up under Max’s chin to guide her eyes to hers.

“Hey– no, don’t do that” Chloe chastised with a frown. “Those deaths were never your fault. Whether you saved Arcadia Bay or me, I need you to know there was no right or wrong decision. And I could’ve never trusted anyone better than you to make that choice. Okay?”

Hearing Chloe, the woman she had chosen to sacrifice to save Arcadia Bay, say those words felt like a bandage to a wound Max didn’t even notice was still open after all those years. The doubt, the blame, the nights she spent alone sobbing in cold motel rooms: it happened somewhere around a decade ago, yet Chloe’s words felt like a soothing balm was being gently applied across her skin. “Okay.”

“Good.”

Chloe’s hands left Max’s face to hold her hand between them, letting a long breath out.

“So, we left Arcadia Bay for the road, jumping from one motel room to the other,” she continued. “This period was difficult for us, but I have such fond memories of that time: sleeping in the back of the truck under the stars, discovering new states, new places, new people. We never stuck around long anywhere though.”

Max frowned. “Wait. I did that, too. Your mom gave me your truck, and I left the town to travel around. I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay in Arcadia Bay knowing you weren’t here anymore. I went through motel rooms, but I was all alone. I went through all the towns you and Rachel wanted to travel to, but I felt so empty. Like a ghost.”

Chloe didn’t respond to that, but the tears welling up in her eyes and the grip she suddenly had on Max’s hand told her everything she needed to know. Her thumb stroked the green-haired woman’s wrist in comfort.

“Tell me what happened next?” Max asked. “You said you left things weird between us.”

Now that Max said it aloud, she couldn’t help the thousand questions rushing into her head: when was the last time Chloe saw her? Why did they break apart? What was up with the letter Chloe mentioned earlier?

“Oh my God,” Chloe groaned, breaking eye contact with her and– was it shame Max could read in there? “A few months after Arcadia Bay, we started dating.”

The suddenness of the words sparked so many emotions at once in Max: happiness, shock, regret, and jealousy once again, at this other Max, the one who had the chance to spend years with her childhood best friend turned lover, while she was spending her nights curled up all by herself. Whose fault was that?

But at least that made one thing clear for her, something comforting and familiar in all the strangeness of this situation: both Max did have the same feelings, no matter what the timeline was. And looking at Chloe now, with her tattoo, the beautiful lines of her face, her emerald hair and blue eyes… yeah, that checks out.

Chloe smirked. “I know I’m hot Max, but you should keep your pretty mouth shut before you catch any flies.”

“I’m not– how did you–?” Max could feel her cheeks burning, and she shoved Chloe playfully before the woman could notice the crimson on her face. “Shut up. Tell me what happened next.”

“Okay, okay,” Chloe laughed, her arms raised placatingly. “What happened next was we had a few wonderful years together. You got a bit better, started to take photos again, and then you found yourself working freelance in photography – I remember feeling so proud of you. We were still traveling, and I started playing with local bands in bars to make some money. We were so happy we found a balance. Then…”

Chloe hesitated for a second. Max pressed her hand once.

“Then it became complicated,” Chloe continued. “You were always up early flying off to some photoshoot, while I was always coming back late from the bars. I could feel us drifting apart, because our lifestyles weren’t compatible, but also because of our shared trauma. You felt consumed by the past still, while all I wanted was to run away from it, go as far as possible and never think of Arcadia Bay again.”

Max’s breath hitched at that. It felt so foreign, hearing about a Max that made the opposite choice from hers. It comforted her somehow, to know that there wasn’t a right or a wrong choice, that each timeline had brought its own share of pressure and complications.

“So,” Chloe resumed, “one day, around two years ago, I left to travel around with a band I had started to manage. And then I did the cowardly thing: I broke up with you through a fucking letter, like a fucking idiot.”

The only thing that Max could let out was a weak, “Oh”.

Chloe’s frown deepened. “You deserved so much Max. You deserved for me not to run away, not to break up with you through a piece of paper, not to make you feel like your powers were a burden. But I did. And I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Hey,” Max interrupted her.

She didn’t know what to say, though. This situation felt so weird: how could Max reassure Chloe when she didn’t even know what the other Max went through, how that breakup affected her? Max tried to imagine it for a second: her saving Chloe and sacrificing Arcadia Bay years ago, then the green haired woman taking the easy way out. Yeah… She could imagine the other Max being seriously hurt over this.

Chloe seemed to read the emotions on her face well because she sighed, running a hand over her face with a groan. “What am I saying? You don’t even remember any of this.”

“I don’t,” Max admitted with a wince. “But I can imagine her – me – being pretty… stunned over this.”

Chloe snorted humorlessly at that.

“But it’s in the past, Chloe,” Max said with a light squeeze at her hand, a touch meant to be reassuring. “And truth to be told… I don’t even know which Max it happened to.”

All this breakup talk and theories about parallel timelines were seriously starting to give her a headache.

“Max, why do I have memories of both you and Arcadia Bay, of my mom, of both timelines, while you don’t even have memories of the years we spent together?”

Well, speaking of headaches. God, Max would really need Moses right now. She tried to think about everything that happened since December: Safi’s death, the two parallel realities merging, Moses’s experimentations on her powers, Chloe’s appearance today…

“Maybe when I merged the timelines, I pulled you to the one where Arcadia Bay was saved and then your memories merged too, somehow. But I’m not sure for me… when I went from one reality to the other, I was the only person who didn’t have another me. I was the only Max for both universes.”

Max wasn’t sure of anything at this point, the emotions of seeing Chloe again mixing with the exhausting day that started with a photo jump, the fire threatening to burn down Caledon, the Abraxas House that almost exploded had Max not stepped in.

“Fuck, this is hurting my brain,” Chloe groaned. “Does that mean the decade I spent with you wasn’t even real? And the week we had together in high school? I was already dead, so why do I have memories of it?”

“What? No Chloe, that week, at the junkyard, on the train tracks. It was the best and worst week of my life. I’m so glad you remember it, too.”

“Yeah, but who the hell did it happen to? Not me.”

There was a heavy silence then. Max gnawed at her lip. She could’ve never guessed that bringing back Safi would bring Chloe back, too, but she still felt guilty. And Max was so happy to see her again, but did she even have the right to? She pulled Chloe out of her timeline, didn’t she? But since she merged both realities, did Chloe’s reality ever exist?

“I know it’s not something I did on purpose,” Max sighed, “but I’m sorry I brought you into this mess. You shouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath of my power going wrong.”

Chloe’s eyes came back to hers then, her expression softening. Her hand stroked Max’s cheek gently as she let out a long sigh.

“No Max, don’t say that. I just… I feel so weird. There’s so much I don’t know and half of what I do know isn’t real.”

“Well, maybe I can catch you up. Tell you how my reality worked while you tell me about yours?”

Chloe smiled, and Max felt her insides light up.

“I would love that.”

Then her smile dropped as she yawned. “But right now I’m beat. Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Max nodded. “You must be exhausted.”

“She says,” Chloe laughed. “You’re the one I found in a house that was supposed to blow up.”

God, the Abraxas House felt like it happened weeks ago. “Yeah, I’m not saying no to a good night of sleep right now.”

Max got up to switch off the light, reluctantly stepping away from Chloe’s warmth. Her feet felt so heavy, her eyes dropping as she advanced. But before she could reach the light switch, her eyes fell on her camera. She had left it on the dresser when they arrived, right next to her wall of photos.

“Can I take a picture of you?”

The words were out of her mouth before she could think them through. Chloe stopped her movements, her body half under the covers, her – Max’s – T-shirt wrinkled, hair messy and eyes small from the conversations they had mixed with the exhaustion of the day. And fuck. She had never looked more beautiful. “Like right now?”

“Yeah,” Max smiled. “Like right now.”

Chloe looked out of breath for a second, mouth hanging open, before she nodded.

“Keep your pretty mouth shut, Price,” Max smiled, echoing Chloe’s words from earlier. “You’re gonna catch flies.”

The green-haired woman’s jaw snapped shut audibly. “Smooth,” she snorted, but Max could see her biting her lip slightly. “So, how do you want me?”

Max flushed a little at the question. Chloe raised an innocent eyebrow, but the smirk at the corner of her lips told another tale.

“You’re perfect like this,” Max whispered softly.

She took hold of her camera delicately, bringing it to eye-level. Through the lens, she could see Chloe looking right back at her, legs entangled in the sheets, her T-shirt ridden up just so. The moment felt unreal.

Max remembered the first photo she ever took with her own camera: it was years and years ago, on her sixth birthday. Her parents had given her a Contax T2, a beautiful camera that Max didn’t even know how to operate but had always dreamed of having. It was light gray, compact, coming in a beautiful dark box that she still had even to this day.

She couldn’t have been happier opening her gift, even more so when her eyes had fell on Chloe, who had been present next to her as she unwrapped her gift. Chloe was always present in Max’s favorite memories, after all.

Max remembered this moment like it was yesterday: without even bothering to read the instructions, she had pointed her camera at Chloe, fumbling a bit with the buttons to get a clear look at her through the lens. Chloe hadn’t even fought it, smiling wide with all her missing teeth and chocolate cake smeared at the corner of her lips as Max pushed the gray shutter button and the camera clicked. It had been Max’s first ever photo on her own camera.

Max had only been able to see it weeks later, when they developed the pictures. She remembered being so excited as her mom led her into the shop, as her dad took a moment to talk to the woman sitting at the counter while she was taking advantage of that to look at all the cameras they had in store, from heavy camcorders to pretty Polaroid cameras. She remembered thinking right then and there that she wanted to take a photo with every camera that ever existed. A child’s dream really, but it had been the start of a huge collection Max had kept adding pictures to from different cameras over the years.

Then, her mom had given her the developed photos, her firsts: amongst them, a lot were blackened or fully white from a setting Max had probably messed up. But the clear ones depicted so much of Max’s life: two pictures of her parents, laughing in the living room and in the kitchen, then Joyce holding Bongo, the Price’s cat, William cooking, a few photos of landscapes and inanimate objects, and, in between everything else, were pictures of Chloe.

Max had gone through the stack of photos then: Chloe in her Captain Bluebeard attire, a selfie of them both, Chloe in her backyard on the swings, Chloe with whipped cream on her nose, Chloe in the middle of a cartwheel, Chloe, Chloe, and then… Then, at the back of the stack, was the first one she took: Chloe, on her birthday, with her missing tooth, smeared chocolate and blinding smile. Max had held her breath then, at Chloe’s pretty eyes and messy blonde hair. The photo was far from perfect when it came to technique: the focus was a bit blurry, Chloe was off-center and two corners of the picture were blackened. Yet Max had never seen something so perfect.

Chloe had become her favorite subject right then and there. It didn’t bother her best friend much: Chloe was always the first one to smile and goof around when Max’s camera was pointed at her, and very soon, Max had a box with only developed pictures and Polaroids of her that mixed with selfies of them both. In the end, Max didn’t even know how many photos of Chloe she had taken during their childhood. She just knew that she took the last one when she was twelve, the day William died.

Then Max had moved to Seattle and didn’t talk to Chloe for five years before they found each other again in Arcadia Bay, when Max moved back for Mark Jefferson’s photography course in Blackwell.

It had been a bit awkward seeing Chloe again after years of ghosting her, but that uneasiness had quickly given way to old routines and familiar habits. Chloe had changed of course, beyond her punk style and newly dyed blue hair that Max hadn’t been able to stop staring at: she was guarded but fearless, stubborn but loyal to a fault, rebellious but oh so protective of the ones she cared about.

Then Chloe had given Max her dad’s camera, a beautiful beige and black Polaroid 1200si that she had seen for the last time five years prior. And then she had put on some music and asked Max to take a picture of her.

It had been like those five years had never passed: Max behind her camera, while Chloe danced on her bed. The picture had been printed immediately, and she hadn’t even been able to get a close look at it before Chloe had invited her to dance too.

That night, after she had told Chloe everything about her powers, she had fallen asleep with the picture of Chloe dancing on her nightstand.

You could retrace the whole week with all the pictures Max had taken of Chloe: at the junkyard, in the principal’s office while she was lounging in the big chair when they broke in Blackwell, the morning after right before Chloe had dared her with a kiss – Max still remembered the surprise on the blue-haired girl’s face when she had leaned in – in Chloe’s car when they rode off to see Frank…

It had felt good getting to take pictures of Chloe again. It had felt the same as it had years ago, with just a few more middle fingers.

Yet in the end, it had just been them in the storm with Chloe handing her a photo, the one she had taken in Blackwell’s bathroom at the beginning of the week. And then Max had made a choice and jumped in. And then she had never been able to take any picture of Chloe ever again.

Max still had that box reserved only for photos of Chloe, with a Polaroid picture of her dating from the week at Arcadia Bay pinned right in the middle of her wall.

Knowing now that more photos of Chloe could be added to her collection was making her heart melt. Chloe was there, in front of her, alive and posing for Max, ready to be photographed. Her eyes were tired, yet she smiled. “I don’t think the picture is gonna take itself, Max.”

“Let me find the right angle,” Max mumbled.

She made her way to the bottom of the bed, looming over Chloe while the woman looked at her with an amused gleam in her eyes. Max looked through the lens once more. A little bit higher.

“Okay wait,” she said. “Don’t move.”

And then she was climbing on the bed and standing up, planting her feet on the mattress on each side of Chloe’s legs and hoping to God she wouldn’t fall backwards.

“Anything for the perfect photo, huh?” Chloe laughed.

Max pressed the button, the shutter clicked, and the picture came out. She shook it until the black gave way to the photo and… shit. Chloe looked ethereal under the soft lighting, tangled in Max’s sheets, emerald hair spread out on her pillow while her arms stretched out lazily over her head. Her eyes were tired but soft, looking directly at the one behind the camera, her pink lips depicting a light laugh. The raw intimacy of the picture wasn’t lost on Max: it looked like it was taken by a lover.

“So, how is it looking?” Chloe asked.

Max was at a loss for words.

“You’re looking perfect,” she ended up saying when Chloe nudged her ankle.

“Can I see it?”

Max blinked and nodded, sitting down cross-legged next to Chloe and handing her the photo. The other woman straightened up on an elbow and took it between her fingers. She spent a few seconds taking it in, her fingers tracing the edge of the picture.

“You haven’t lost your way with cameras, I see. It’s beautiful.”

“I mean, the photo is clearly made more beautiful by the model,” Max smiled.

Chloe raised an eyebrow, handing her back the picture. “What a charmer.”

“With you? Always.”

This got an affectionate eye roll out of Chloe. “Okay, off with the sweet talk. Let’s go to sleep, now.”

Max nodded. Chloe’s photo was placed on her nightstand, in case she woke up the next morning without the woman’s warm presence next to her, so she could know this evening was real. Then Max was standing up, switching off the light and getting under the covers.

She turned on her side, facing Chloe who was already looking at her and was way closer than what she thought. Sleeping in there alone for almost two years made Max forget that there was just barely enough room for two people in her bed. It was comfortable with Chloe though, her presence still familiar after years spent in her absence, her face bathed in moonlight a few inches from hers.

Max felt her body melt into the sheets as Chloe tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She smiled softly and saw the adoration reflected in Chloe’s eyes.

“I don’t know what the fuck is happening, Max,” the green-haired woman admitted in a whisper. “But I can’t wait to figure it out with you.”

“I couldn’t wish for more,” Max murmured back.

Chloe took her hand, intertwining their fingers together. Hand holding had always been a constant in their relationship under any circumstances: Max remembered holding Chloe’s hand in hers anxiously before a performance at the elementary school’s dance. She remembered doing the same when she was walking next to Chloe as they broke in Blackwell that night, taking her fingers between hers at every small noise. For them, hand holding had always meant reassurance and comfort.

Max placed her other hand on Chloe’s cheek, warm under the touch, a last proof that she was real before falling asleep. Chloe leaned into it heavily, as Max’s index traveled lightly to her cheekbone, tracing her eyebrow, going down the arch of her nose, stopping at the corner of her mouth, watching as Chloe subconsciously licked her lips.

Max’s gaze went back to Chloe’s, who was now looking at her open mouthed, her eyes making a subtle back and forth between Max’s eyes and lips. That made her chuckle.

“Can I kiss you?” Max asked, trying to bite back a smile.

“At this point if you don’t, I’m gonna have to sue you, Professor Caulfield,” Chloe groaned.

Max didn’t hesitate a second: she took Chloe’s face in her hands and pulled her in, erasing the few inches still separating them, swallowing Chloe’s surprised moan. And then they were kissing.

Max still remembered vividly the kiss they had shared a decade ago: it had been clumsy, unhurried, soft, full of unsaid feelings. But most of all, it had felt like an end to something, had tasted like a goodbye kiss, a parting of two lovers who had run out of time.

This kiss, though? It was still slow and gentle but in a different way, patient, as they knew they had all the time in the world. Max’s tears weren’t mixing with the heavy rain soaking Chloe’s jacket this time, and there wasn’t a raging storm destroying their childhood town behind them either. It was only them, kissing in the warmth of Max’s cabin, in the comfort of her bed, taking all the time they needed.

And oh. Chloe’s lips were slightly chapped but felt so good against hers, the woman letting out little sighs Max couldn’t get enough of. The smell of leather and cinnamon was everywhere, making Max’s hand slip into Chloe’s hair and hold tight, in need of something to anchor her.

Chloe kissed her like she knew her by heart, placing her hands on her hips right under Max’s shirt where she knew she was sensitive, kissing her in ways that only pulled whimpers out of her throat.

“It’s– unfair–” Max tried to say between kisses, “that you– know everything that makes me– tick and I don’t–”

Max’s sentence got cut off with a moan when Chloe smirked against her lips, and fuck, Max felt like she could die right then and there. Chloe broke the kiss slightly to whisper: “Then I guess we’re gonna have to take time to get you up to date, right?”

She dropped another kiss on Max’s skin, this time against her throat. “And trust me,” she added out of breath, “you’re catching up to what’s making me tick real fast.”

Max couldn’t suppress the whimper that got past her lips. “Yeah,” she could only let out, voice roughened. “And we have all the time in the world.”

Chloe abandoned Max’s neck to come back up, dropping a kiss on Max’s nose, then a last one on her lips that the photographer tried to chase when she pulled away.

“We have all the time in the world,” Chloe echoed with a beautiful toothy smile, “but right now, we need sleep.”

Right. Max was so tired, yet the adrenaline from the kiss kept her eyes wide open, trying to take Chloe in as much as she could, with her flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

“I’m sure we could–”

The rest of Max’s sentence was swallowed by a yawn, and it made Chloe laugh lightly. “Go to sleep, Maximus.”

Then she opened her arms and Max didn’t hesitate before burying her face into Chloe’s neck once again, breathing her in deeply, bunching up the fabric of her T-shirt in her hand. The green-haired woman yawned as well as she buried her hand in Max’s hair.

“I’ll be there when you wake up,” she mumbled, kissing the top of her head.

“You better,” Max whispered. “Good night, Chloe.”

Chloe’s arm slid around her waist, and Max could feel her melt against her body. She hadn’t felt this comfortable in so long.

“Good night, Max.”

And then the events of her day crashed on Max, mixing with the comfort of Chloe’s body against hers and sending her deep into slumber. She had one last thought of all the things still unknown to her she still had to figure out: Chloe’s appearance, the Caledon fire, Safi’s presence on campus, all coincidentally happening during the same weekend. She had a lot to face, but she knew she could do it with Chloe at her side.

Max smiled one last time before pressing a barely there kiss into Chloe’s neck. And then, right after her long, long day, she fell asleep.