Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chloe Price and Rachel Amber have a knack for getting into trouble. And it’s not always the kind of trouble where two carefree girls, laughing and dodging obstacles, run away from an angry hot dog vendor with their freshly stolen loot.

Or skipping classes (back when Chloe still attended Blackwell) to hang out in their private hideout at the junkyard, stopping by Frank’s place first to pick up a new stash of weed, only to hang their heads in guilt the next day under Principal Wells’s furious gaze.

Or getting matching tattoos on their arms and legs, which required fake IDs. That led to yet another fight between Chloe and her mom (she didn’t consider David a parent, which she unashamedly told him when he tried to intervene in their argument). For Rachel, it was much simpler: she just sent a photo of the dragon on her leg to her dad in prison. Just to piss him off one more time.

No, sometimes the trouble Chloe Price and Rachel Amber get into leads to terrible, shocking revelations, and the tears of many people gather into one mighty downpour that has more than once nearly drowned Arcadia Bay and its residents.

Nearly.

Because somehow, things always work out.

After all, Arcadia Bay has an Unseen Protector, someone no one knows about.

Chloe Price and Rachel Amber have an Unseen Protector, someone they know nothing about. But they’re dying to find out.

The first heroic rescue happened when Chloe was 16, and she’d never forget that day. When she agreed to help her new best friend — and also crush — she had no idea what the search for Sera, Rachel’s mysterious mother, would lead to.

Dealing with an unbearable stalker and getting the cops on his tail? That was one thing. Finding out that Rachel’s father had hired Arcadia Bay’s most dangerous criminal to get rid of his ex‑wife, then arranging to meet the guy by pretending to be James himself? That was a whole other ballgame. Frankly, Chloe was terrified for her life. And she wasn’t even ashamed to admit it.

Because who the hell wouldn’t be scared going one‑on‑one with freaking Damon Merrick? A ruthless beast who’d do anything for money and the illusion of power. Especially when he was armed with a long hunting knife, and Chloe only had a wad of cash, natural charm, and a sharp tongue. She was just a dumb 16‑year‑old kid, for crying out loud!

Of course, everything went wrong from the very first second.

But just as she got clocked in the head with a heavy boot and was about to say her last goodbyes, Chloe caught a glimpse of a lone figure in the far corner of the half‑burned sawmill. She passed out before she could even think that it might’ve been Frank.

It wasn’t Frank. He was found in his own RV, tied up, blindfolded, and with a stab wound bandaged up, which he admitted he’d gotten in a fight with Damon. Who’d patched him up, though, the drug dealer couldn’t say. He didn’t know himself.

But whoever it was, they’d saved not just Frank, but Chloe and Sera too. When the cops arrived on the scene (who called them, anyway?), Damon Merrick was found lying unconscious on the floor with multiple bruises, a broken arm, a cracked jaw, and his own knife stuck in his thigh. No matter how much the investigators threatened or bargained, he stubbornly refused to say who’d done this to him.

Sera, who’d been dosed with heroin earlier, couldn’t remember the mysterious hero either. Just a quiet voice whispering to her that her daughter was waiting for her, and she couldn’t give up. All she could say was that the voice sounded like a woman’s. But no one was really sure if she’d heard someone else or if it was just her mind fighting off the drug’s effects.

And Chloe? She’d only seen a blurry figure, and when she woke up, it was just Sera, trying to calm her nerves with a cigarette, and the unconscious drug lord. But for a long time, she couldn’t shake the feeling of someone’s soft lips on her forehead and gentle words she couldn’t quite make out, no matter how hard she tried.

One thing was for sure: this story ended with the ultimate triumph of justice. Damon Merrick got a long prison sentence, dragging his employer James Amber down with him. Frank cut a deal with the prosecution and got the minimum sentence. Years later, he never came back to Arcadia Bay, and the memory of him quickly faded.

Rachel met her biological mother, learned the whole truth, and lost the little respect she’d still had for her father. The one time she visited him in prison, she told him she didn’t consider him her dad anymore and cut all ties. Rose filed for divorce and, after begging Rachel’s forgiveness, kept her role as Rachel’s mom, even if she wasn’t her real one.

Sera backed off from her rushed decision to leave and let Rachel live in lies, but still kept her distance to give Rachel some space. Rose helped her rent a house nearby so she could visit her daughter whenever she wanted. And soon, a new, slightly unusual family was born, one that Rachel could finally be proud of.

And Chloe... Chloe survived. Her first dance with death ended before it even really began, but it left a permanent mark on how she saw life. For weeks, she had nightmares every night, but after a while, she managed to get over the shock, and her life went back to normal.

She was happy as long as Rachel was happy, but something continued to torment her thoughts. Who saved her, and why? What was that figure she saw right before she passed out?

Whoever it was, she’d be grateful to that person for the rest of her life.

But Chloe Price and Rachel Amber’s troubles were far from over.

The second rescue happened nearly two years later, and though Chloe’s life wasn’t in danger this time, she was just as terrified.

Rachel and Chloe, who were officially a couple by that point, loved parties. Like really loved. They adored them. But for different reasons: while Rachel soaked up the energy from the crowd of drunken dancing students, the dim lights, and the loud music, Chloe used every opportunity to enjoy free booze and drugs at the expense of the Vortex Club.

And that was exactly what almost got the love of her life killed.

(Actually, her second love of her life, though she preferred not to think about the first one.)

That day, Chloe couldn’t go to the party with Rachel for several reasons.

First, they’d had a huge fight a few days earlier, though Chloe thought the reason was stupid. Yeah, she could be harsh. Yeah, she could get insanely jealous. But no, Rachel couldn’t flirt with whoever she wanted. That’s not how relationship thing worked. Maybe she’d said some things she didn’t mean and planned to apologize for later, but at the time, she was too angry.

Second, David had found her stash of weed in her room again and blown it way out of proportion. That led to another fight, this time with him and Joyce. Even though Chloe had been trying to get along with her only remaining parent after the whole tragic saga of James Amber and Sera Gerhardt, they still snapped at each other from time to time, and this was one of those moments.

Running away to the party with Rachel sounded tempting, but David — being the jackass he was — had locked her window. Joyce might’ve objected, but how was Chloe supposed to know? Her mom always sided with step-douche.

So there she sat in her room, sulking and blasting punk rock at full volume just to piss David off, when he stormed in, nearly ripping the door off its hinges. There was no time for yelling or cursing because he brought terrifying news.

Rose Amber had called. Rachel had just been rushed to the hospital unconscious. The doctors suspected a powerful drug overdose. That theory was backed up by an anonymous phone call to the hospital requesting an ambulance. They needed to...

Chloe didn’t wait to hear more. The next thing she remembered was speeding to the hospital in her pickup truck, ignoring traffic lights and barely keeping her eyes on the road. She arrived at the hospital in a record ten minutes. That was even faster than when she had driven a wounded Rachel there after the brawl with Damon. Jumping out of the truck without even closing the door, she rushed to the front desk, demanding to know where her girlfriend was. She nearly decked the receptionist when they said only family members could see Rachel. Thankfully, Rose arrived just in time and took Chloe with her.

After several tense hours, Rachel finally came to, immediately enveloped in hugs from both her mothers and her girlfriend. She wasn’t in great shape, but from what she told the police, things could’ve ended much worse.

That night, at the party, overwhelmed by alcohol and reckless dancing, Rachel stepped outside for some air. She’d been trying to drown her shame and anger in booze; the recent fight with Chloe had really gotten to her. Between the drinks, her head was pound grinding, her vision blurry, her legs barely working. She felt awful. She wanted to go home. She wanted Chloe.

She didn’t remember when she first felt that strange itch on her neck, like she’d been bitten or pricked with something. After that, all she remembered was a hand over her mouth, a desperate urge to scream, and how nearly impossible it was to do so. Almost instantly, she started to pass out, her vision growing even fuzzier, her body going limp, her legs giving out. She thought she’d fall, but someone caught her by the arms and dragged her along. Her first panicked thoughts faded quickly, replaced by a numb emptiness. Rachel’s mind practically shut down...

Until she heard a dull thud, then felt herself falling onto something soft. What happened next, Rachel couldn’t really say; she couldn’t fight the drowsiness no matter how hard she tried to stay awake, and finally her eyes closed. But just before she completely passed out, she caught sight of a slender hand on her.

And a scar on the outer side of the palm, running from thumb to pinky.

The rest of what happened at the hospital doesn’t matter much, and the police investigation into the incident only raised more questions. Who attacked Rachel? What were they trying to do? Was it a kidnapping, and if so, were Blackwell students involved? Who saved Rachel, and who called the ambulance? During the investigation, they learned the caller’s voice likely belonged to a young woman, though the operator couldn’t be sure; the supposed Jane Doe said very little and hung up quickly.

No one found anything. As weird as it sounds for a college (illegal) party, the police couldn’t locate a single witness to the incident, and eventually the case was closed. The only real consequence was that David finally managed to push through his idea of surrounding the campus perimeter with security cameras.

For once, Chloe backed her step-prick’s paranoia.

For a long time afterward, Chloe, Rachel, and even David searched for the person with the strange scar on their hand, scouring all of Arcadia Bay and watching every face, especially around Blackwell. Sadly, their search turned up nothing. Maybe Rachel had just imagined it. A couple months later, they gave up and just agreed that Chloe would always accompany Rachel to big events from now on. She also asked David to buy her a stun gun and pepper spray.

The idea that the mysterious savior and the person who knocked all the crap out of Damon two years ago were one and the same was slowly working its way into Chloe's head.

Three months later, Rachel hit Chloe with shocking news. Max Caulfield was supposed to be coming back to Arcadia Bay.

As before, Rachel worked as Principal Wells’s administrative assistant, which meant she had access to some of his files. One day, she came across an application for admission to Blackwell from a certain Maxine Caulfield. That name immediately caught her attention.

Chloe often, though reluctantly, recalled Max, her long-lost childhood friend who had stopped communicating almost immediately after moving to Seattle; a girl Chloe missed very, very much and could never truly forget. It had taken a great deal of effort just to pull the full story of the nearly impossible friendship between the two young pirates out of her, and even more to convince Chloe to finally let go of her partner in crime. For better or worse, however, the name Max Caulfield was now forever imprinted on Rachel’s brain.

At first, she hadn't wanted to tell Chloe; she was actually afraid to. But she had been trying to stop lying to her girlfriend, so she knew she had to share the discovery she’d made in Wells’s office.

Not only was Max’s application approved, but she was also offered a partial scholarship in the photography program — something not everyone could achieve. This made it even stranger that Max had ultimately withdrawn the application literally one week after receiving the positive response. If she hadn't, Max would already be back in Arcadia Bay.

There were many tears, some angry, some bitter. As Rachel expected, Chloe took the news extremely hard. She was practically torn apart by the thought that Max had planned to re-enter her life only to change her mind at the very last second. When Rachel first started sharing the news, she saw a spark of hope in her girlfriend’s eyes. It was clear: despite all the hurt Chloe felt toward her former best friend, she was ready to accept her back in a heartbeat. A jealous side of Rachel was actually a little glad that Max had ultimately given up her claim on Chloe, but her conscientious side reminded her of her own father and how painful it was to realize a betrayal from a loved one. Her top priority was supporting a sobbing Chloe, who had curled up in a ball on the bed, shaking badly from the tears and repeating an unhealthy mantra that she wasn’t good enough for someone like Max.

One thing Rachel knew for sure. That evening, lying in bed next to her girlfriend, holding Chloe’s head tightly to her chest, and stroking her freshly dyed blue hair, she made a decision: when she finally met Max Caulfield, she was definitely going to punch her in the tits for all the suffering she had caused Chloe.

The next fateful day was a little longer in coming.

However, shortly before it, another strange incident occurred, one that virtually no one paid much attention to, especially not Chloe and Rachel. That doesn't mean they didn't notice it, though.

After the attempted kidnapping, Chloe started spending a lot of time in Rachel’s room under the pretense of "better safe than sorry." This was helped by the slow growth of trust between her and David, which Chloe preferred to view as forced cooperation rather than some kind of relationship. The head of school security simply turned a blind eye to his stepdaughter violating Wells’s instructions by constantly sneaking into the girls’ dorm. It gave him peace of mind, too, because if Rachel had actually been kidnapped, it would have been his personal failure. No one wanted a repeat of the incident, especially since the culprit was never found.

So, Chloe often came over to her girlfriend’s late in the evening, stayed the night, and then waited in her room while Rachel was in class. They only attended parties together, and one of them usually stayed sober for obvious reasons.

That day, they were planning to let loose at one such party. It was Rachel’s turn to drink nothing but soda, which she wasn't thrilled about. Besides, Chloe, who had gone to shower before the party, had vanished somewhere. Not in the best mood, Rachel decided to head to the bathroom to either hurry her girlfriend up or join her if Chloe suggested it. Who cared if they were slightly late? Maybe it would cheer her up before the party.

To say she was surprised when she walked out of her room would be an understatement. She found Chloe kneeling by one of the dorm rooms, which she knew belonged to a freshman named Kate Marsh. Chloe was clearly too focused on the lock, because she practically jumped when Rachel approached from behind and gently laid a hand on her shoulder.

As it turned out, Chloe wasn’t trying to break into the quiet, religious girl’s room at all. Well, she was, but for noble reasons. Some asshole had locked Kate inside her room, taking her personal key with them, and Chloe had heard a desperate cry for help while getting out of the shower. Naturally, like any knight in shining armor, she was obligated to rescue the princess from her prison.

Unfortunately, Chloe’s lock‑picking skills weren’t up to the challenge of the Prescott dorm’s mighty doors, so after numerous curses from Chloe and attempts by Rachel to calm down a panicking Kate, the three of them agreed to finally call for backup.

After an extremely reluctant phone call from Chloe, David arrived on the floor with a set of spare keys, one of which freed the prisoner. Kate immediately darted out of the room as if it were about to swallow her. Breathing heavily, her eyes wet, she couldn't immediately find the courage to speak.

It turned out she had also planned to go to the Vortex Club party. It would have been her first time emerging from her cocoon since enrolling at Blackwell. Other students had bullied her for her mousey nature, mocking her modest beliefs, and the religious girl had decided to prove, if not to them, then at least to herself, that she was capable of more than just hanging up flyers for the Abstinence Club and reading prayers in the morning.

Apparently, someone particularly disliked that idea. While getting ready for the party and choosing an appropriate outfit with special excitement, Kate heard a solitary clink at her window. Then another one. And another. Quickly, she realized someone was throwing pebbles at her window and walked up to check.

While Kate was trying, and failing, to spot the prankster in the darkness, she heard a different kind of click. Someone had locked her door from the outside, and Kate suddenly couldn't find her own key. She swore she had definitely left it on her desk near the computer, and no one could have possibly snatched it. But somehow, that key was now in the hands of some bully.

However, that wasn't the only thing that terrified Kate. After trying unsuccessfully to open the door several times and calling out for help, the girl noticed someone slide a single sheet of paper under the door. She showed this note to David, who took her story surprisingly seriously.

"Don’t you dare come to that party, or else", was written in large red letters. According to David, the messenger had used a marker, but nothing else could be gleaned from the note. What did the perpetrator want? Why would they intimidate poor little Kate? Were they the dickheads from the Vortex Club? And if so, how did they know about her plans if she hadn't told anyone where she was going that night, not even her friends?

In the end, Kate did not go to any party. Instead, she stayed in her room again, accompanied by Alyssa and Stella, whom Rachel had asked to sit with the frightened girl. From then on, she tried to stick close to those she could trust. And her room key always hung around her neck on a chain, next to her cross.

There were upsides, though: Kate was able to befriend Rachel and Chloe. The latter, surprisingly, turned out to be quite a protective friend. After this incident, she repeatedly defended Kate from the Vortex Club’s attacks, especially from Victoria Chase, whom she couldn’t stand anyway. After all, she had experience. In elementary school, Chloe had constantly shielded Max from bullies.

David tried to conduct an investigation, checking the security camera footage repeatedly, but to no avail. Only cameras above the entrance and on the exterior walls were allowed in the dorms, and they showed no unusual activity at the time Kate specified. This seemed strange to David, but Wells, as always, tried to cover up the matter to avoid unnecessary scandal and ordered his Head of Security to focus on more productive work.

As already mentioned, Chloe and Rachel didn't make a big deal out of the Kate incident and went on with their lives as if nothing had happened right next door in the girls’ dorm. Why bother? Surely some jerk just decided to pick on a defenseless quiet girl, nothing special. After all, Blackwell was always full of intolerant assholes.

No one ever found out that, on that night, the Unseen Protector of Arcadia Bay had saved another town resident from the predator lurking in the shadows.

But all of Chloe Price and Rachel Amber’s previous "adventures" paled in comparison to what happened in the second week of October. That week would later acquire various names, but Chloe prefers to call it Hell Week. Rachel, on the other hand, prefers not to remember it at all.

It all started routinely enough. It was Rachel’s senior year, which meant she had to apply more effort to her studies and stay at Blackwell longer than usual, no matter how much she hated the place. Chloe was also unhappy with these changes to the routine, but she had no choice; no one gave a shit about the opinion of a high-school dropout punk failure.

That day, Chloe decided she was sick of lurking in Rachel’s dorm, so after a quick visit to her mom at the Two Whales, the blue-haired girl returned to the Blackwell parking lot, intentionally taking up two handicapped spots. (Seriously, this shitty excuse for a school doesn't even have ramps, why the fuck does it have handicapped spots? Wells, you dumb moron.) Leaning against the cab of her pickup truck, puffing on her ninth cigarette of the day, Chloe waited with an exhausted look for the endless school day to end so her beloved could finally break free from the shackles of Blackhell and join her.

Chloe was going to take Rachel out on a date that day.

But Arcadia Bay had entirely different plans for her.

Chloe was scrolling through her phone, checking social media for the hundredth time, when she suddenly heard a familiar, but not pleasant, voice in the distance. A voice she could never mistake.

Nathan Prescott.

He was circling the opposite side of the parking lot in plain sight, as if he didn't care if anyone heard him. The boy was on the phone, and judging by his tense tone, he was clearly arguing fiercely with someone. The expression on his face was both irritated and panicked. His free hand periodically clenched into a fist, and his eyes darted feverishly back and forth.

Chloe didn't hear much, and honestly, she couldn't give less of a fuck about Prescott and his bullshit. If she hadn’t been so bored, she wouldn't have listened to the entitled asshole mumble at all. But Nathan kept raising his voice at the person on the other end, and at one point, she caught something that instantly made her blood boil.

...Rachel slipped...

...that Marsh slut...

...interfered...

...too risky...

...again...

Chloe must have clenched her jaw so hard that the grinding of her teeth reached Nathan’s ears, and his gaze met hers. Realizing his conversation had been overheard, he immediately hung up, shoved it into his jersey pocket, and bolted towards Blackwell with hurried steps.

Chloe couldn't help but follow him. Gears were already turning in her rage-fogged brain.

She had already suspected Nathan of assaulting Rachel that night. It was his party, after all. He owned the Vortex Club. His daddy paid for all the whims of his messed-up son. He supplied half the student body with drugs.

And he hadn't shown up at school for a whole month right after the failed attempt to kidnap Rachel. Wells had explained that Nathan was given a week off to sort out some family issues, but rumors circulated that he had been seen with a bruised face and bandaged ribs.

Just like Damon before him.

So Chloe didn't even hesitate when she sneaked into the academy after him. She didn't care that she was violating the school administration’s ban. She didn't care that security might catch her. And she certainly didn't care that no one messes with the Prescotts.

She needed answers. And she was ready to beat them out of the sick bastard if necessary.

What she wasn't ready for was the sound of a gunshot coming from the girls’ bathroom as she walked through the main door. Chloe can’t explain why she didn't run away immediately when she heard it. Or why she didn't at least freeze up. Instead, for some reason, she was brave/stupid enough to run into the bathroom before anyone else showed up. Joyce didn't call her daughter a hothead for nothing.

Luckily for her, no one was killed at Blackwell Academy that day. No one bled out on the girls’ bathroom floor. No one was buried on a sunny day at the end of this Hell Week. The only one who ended up hurt that day was Nathan Prescott — the very one whose gun had fired the shot. Ironically, though, not by a bullet, but by fists.

It was on that day that Chloe first got a chance to properly see the Unseen Protector of Arcadia Bay. Or, one might say, the Avenger of Arcadia Bay now. Chloe, as a closed comic book lover, preferred the latter option.

It wasn't a menacing brute with bulging muscles, as one might expect. On the contrary, standing before Chloe at that moment was a frail-looking girl, about her height, with thin arms and minimal physical strength. She was wearing a black, fitted turtleneck and black trousers, her face was covered by a ski mask, revealing nothing but the girl's dull blue eyes. And if it weren't for the (black) gloves on her hands, one could have seen a scar on her left hand, running from her thumb to her pinky finger.

And this finally made Chloe freeze in her tracks. The scene she witnessed made her hold her breath and silently, like a fish, watch as the stranger stepped away from Nathan, who lay motionless on the floor. Then, ignoring the uninvited guest, she picked up the pistol lying nearby and carefully placed it in Nathan's hand, whose nose was bleeding profusely and whose left eye was beginning to swell shut. Only after that did she turn her attention back to Chloe.

“In your pocket,” she said so softly that Chloe’s heart skipped a beat, whether from shock or embarrassment. The bluenette blinked in surprise but couldn't find the courage to say anything in response. She could have sworn she had heard that voice before. “Don’t be afraid, it’s not your fault. Don't run away. Stay and tell them everything you saw. It's gonna be alright. I...”

She seemed to want to add something else, but changed her mind. The stranger shook her head as if in disappointment, looked into Chloe’s eyes one more time, and a second later, as if by magic, the fire alarm went off, causing Chloe to flinch and whip her head toward the door. When she turned back, there was no trace of the strange girl. She had vanished, dissolved into thin air. Chloe honestly thought she had dreamt the whole thing.

She hadn't.

When David burst into the bathroom, Chloe still couldn't utter a word. She just kept blinking and trembling slightly. Only when her stepfather started shaking her shoulders was she finally able to snap out of her stupor and try her best to explain everything she had witnessed, including Nathan’s suspicious phone call, how she heard the gunshot when she ran into Blackwell, and the strange girl in the ski mask who had apparently knocked out the unofficial prince of Arcadia.

At first, neither David nor the police who arrived ten minutes later believed her. Of-fucking-course. But then, as Chloe was being handcuffed amid the protesting cries of Rachel, who had rushed to the scene, she suddenly remembered the Protector's words.

In your pocket.

How they got there, Chloe didn't know and didn't want to know, but pictures were found in her jeans pocket. One clearly showed Nathan pointing a weapon at the photographer, his face contorted in an aggressive grimace. The question of how and by whom the photo was taken remained unanswered. But definitely not by Chloe. No camera was found on her, and her old phone was unlikely to have a printing function. Experts also confirmed the authenticity of this photo, as well as the others.

The other photos revealed even more than the first. Nathan was photographed not only with a weapon in hand but also in the company of a certain man in various locations: in the Blackwell parking lot, in the photography classroom, in an unknown photo studio covered with grim images, near an old, half-ruined barn on the outskirts of town, inside the girls' dorm... near Rachel Amber’s room...

After several hours of exhausting interrogation and the examination of the newfound evidence, Chloe Price was released from custody, and her place was taken by Mark Jefferson.

And that was just the beginning of Hell Week.

When snow suddenly started falling, Chloe and Rachel were sitting on a bench near the lighthouse, discussing the events of the past day and the strange girl in black clothes. Rachel was one hundred percent sure that this was the same person who first saved her mother, and then herself. Chloe, for her part, wasn’t about to argue with that.

And then there was Mark Jefferson, who was taken into custody right after those pictures were found. What did he have to do with all this? Why had the stranger, who had magically slipped those photos to Chloe, pointed at one of Rachel’s favorite teachers? None of it made sense.

Chloe mostly didn't give a damn about either Jefferson or Nathan, who was likewise taken to the police station. The image of the girl in the ski mask, who had once again come to the rescue and saved the day, wouldn't leave her mind. Prescott had a gun, after all. If it hadn't been for her, Chloe might have been shot. And those eyes... that voice... She had definitely heard it before, but where? And what kind of voodoo magic did this girl possess? Appeared out of nowhere and vanished into thin air. Slipped those photos into her possession, even though Chloe couldn't have missed someone reaching into her pocket.

If Chloe had previously joked about calling the Protector of Arcadia Bay a superhero, now she wasn't sure if it was a joke anymore.

But wait, what was this? Snow? In October? What the hell?!

This was the beginning of a chain of strange natural events. Harbingers of the Apocalypse, as one of the religious‑themed radio stations dubbed them. Just when Chloe and Rachel thought their troubles were over with Nathan's arrest, the hateful town showed that it still had cards up its sleeve.

The next day, dead bodies of all kinds of birds were found throughout the town, from crows to jays. Insects behaved in a very strange way; ants gathered in masses and swirled on the pavement in bizarre vortices, spiders crawled en masse up walls, scaring townspeople shitless, trees and bushes were covered with colorful butterflies. That day, the first long-time residents left Arcadia. The others whispered about a curse from the indigenous people who lived here alongside the first settlers.

At sunset, residents emerged from their homes to watch an unplanned and unpredicted solar eclipse. And while meteorologists racked their brains trying to explain the phenomenon, another dozen people left town just to be safe.

Rachel was more intrigued than scared by what was happening. Chloe convinced Joyce and David to start packing.

And then the whales. Ah, those whales. Their dead carcasses, washed up on the ocean shore, created a new topic for press discussion. Oddly enough, this time there was no panic; apparently, the townspeople were starting to get used to Mother Nature's antics. Journalists from all over the country flocked to town, while the local church continued to trumpet the coming end. Maybe of the town. Maybe of the world.

Birds kept dying. Insects continued to heighten the tension. Rachel eagerly searched for a connection between Jefferson's arrest and the natural chaos. Chloe called Rose and Sera to convince them to evacuate their daughter from town immediately, if things took a turn for the worse.

Blackwell students, however, seemed to not cared about any of these omens at all. While new whales were washing ashore, the academy elite were sending out invitations to a fresh party. Even the appearance of a double moon in the sky didn't stop them at all. And what's more, they seemed to mock the whole commotion; the party was called "End of the World" and had slogans to match.

Rachel wanted to go. Chloe demanded they stay home. Rachel insisted. Chloe threatened to handcuff her to the bed. Rachel liked that idea. They had sex.

On Friday morning, four more people left town. The rest regretted not following their example because a storm hit closer to evening. A colossal tornado, nearly impossible for the area, was heading toward Arcadia Bay, threatening to devour the town along with all its remaining residents. That's when real panic began.

People were trapped within the town limits. Street poles and trees were falling to the ground, blocking roads. The police and other city services did what they could to clear escape routes, but they clearly didn't have enough resources. Then truckers, stuck in town, came to the rescue, using their massive trucks to push aside trees and roof debris torn off by the storm winds. Fishing boats flew through the air, and the streets were filled with the wail of sirens. People who weren't hiding at home ran panicked through the streets, searching for loved ones.

But Chloe was ready. She knew this day would come. As soon as the sky darkened with clouds and the wind picked up, she wasted no time throwing on her leather jacket, strapping on her favorite boots, and running to her pickup. Getting behind the wheel, the first thing she did was call Rachel, commanding her to pack, gather both her moms, and wait for her at home. Then she sped full-throttle to the Two Whales to pick up Joyce and get back before the main chaos began.

Unfortunately, she had to spend time on other patrons of the diner where her mother worked. So on the way back, there were at least four more passengers sitting in the bed of her pickup, including Warren Graham, the young nerd Chloe had met back when she was studying at Blackwell. Growling and cursing her bad luck, Chloe sped through the heavy rain, disregarding traffic lights and any precautions. It hadn't helped her father anyway.

For a second, the image of that girl in black clothes flashed through her mind, but Chloe quickly dismissed all such fantasies. This time, she would be the hero. Not the one being saved, but the one doing the saving. She was nineteen — she didn’t need a babysitter.

Getting home, Chloe and Joyce grabbed the suitcases they had packed in advance. David was already waiting there; he was doing a final check of his muscle car before the long drive south, where Uncle Aaron, William Price's brother, lived. But then Chloe heard the crackle of a radio. She turned and saw David talking to someone on the channel. The look on his face promised nothing good.

Someone had to help the Blackwell students evacuate the town. Thank God, old drunk Wells was a real rat who smelled danger from afar and had preemptively ordered the evacuation of his charges. So the main responsibilities fell on David, as Head of Security.

Joyce begged her husband not to go to Blackwell and to stay with his family. Even Chloe backed her up, saying she didn't want him to die. But David was a soldier to his core, and honor was everything to him. These kids were his responsibility, and he couldn't abandon them. Therefore, after kissing his wife on the head and tightly hugging Chloe (she reluctantly returned the embrace), he ordered them to leave without him and stay in contact. As soon as he was done with the kids, he would immediately set out to join them. With that, he tossed his suitcases into the muscle car and set off to save lives.

Chloe couldn't wait any longer. Shoving her crying mother into the car, she said goodbye one last time to the house her father never got to finish painting, sniffled, and drove off for Rachel’s.

That day, Max Caulfield received a text message from Chloe Price.

Love: idk if u care but if anything happens to me know that i forgive u

The message, as usual, went unanswered.

It was gone. The tornado. It just up and vanished. The storm was over. The town survived.

Chloe found out about it on the shoulder of the highway, en route to San Jose. She and Joyce had been on edge for over an hour. They’d been driving in total silence, and Chloe was doing her utmost not to break under her mother’s occasional sobs. She kept her focus on the road, distracting herself with random thoughts. Until, at one point, Joyce’s phone rang, and when she answered it, she let out a scream so loud that Chloe nearly lost control of the car.

David had finally gotten in touch, and that alone was enough to make Joyce cry again, though this time from relief. Due to the storm, communications in the town were down, so David hadn't been able to reach his family for a long time. But when he finally connected with Joyce, she was so ecstatic that she was practically squealing with joy. And it was understandable. After all, she had avoided losing a second husband, which surely would have broken her completely.

It didn't help Chloe one bit, though. She practically had to snatch the phone from her mother when she realized Joyce couldn't hear either her or David. Pulling over to the shoulder, the bluenette got out of the car and pulled her mom out too, then grabbed the phone, barked at her to shut up, and put the call on speaker.

Rose's hatchback, carrying Rachel's family, parked right behind them, and all five women eagerly listened to David’s hurried explanation.

The student evacuation had run into problems, and the school buses loaded with the kids were trapped at the edge of town. A whale carcass, brought by the hurricane wind, blocked the road ahead, while a tide of fleeing residents’ vehicles pressed in from behind. David and the bus drivers were trying their best to handle the situation, but they were too constrained by both resources and time.

David grumbled a bit about the constantly screaming and panicking students being absolutely zero help, and specifically complained about Victoria, who threw an epic tantrum, screaming, "Do you know who I am? You have to save me!" But Chloe sharply stopped him, demanding he get to the point. They were all actually worried sick and didn't understand anything.

So he said it. The storm was over. Just as if by magic the tornado had dissolved before ever reaching the town. David didn't say it out loud, but truthfully, he had been desperate at that moment. He was sure they wouldn't make it out in time, when suddenly the weather began to calm down, and the wind gradually died away. When the students in the bus yelled again, and David turned around, he saw the tornado was no more. Nothing was flying through the air anymore, the sound of the storm was quiet, and only the sirens continued to wail, giving him a headache.

He couldn't explain how or why (no one could, no one ever will), but he assured them that the storm was gone. The nightmare was over. David asked them not to return to Arcadia yet, but decided to stay himself to assist the police and rescuers when they arrived.

Joyce said she loved him. Chloe cringed but said she was proud of him. Rose asked him to be careful. Sera just smiled. Rachel asked him to tell Victoria she was a whiny bitch.

When Aaron Price welcomed his relatives, he was very surprised by the relaxed smiles on their faces.

For a long time, one of the most talked-about topics in the US was the mystical storm that came out of nowhere against all forecasts and ended just as suddenly, defying common sense. Meteorologists from all over the country shared the most incredible theories regarding the cause of this extraordinary event. By all predictions, a tornado of that strength should have left no stone unturned in the small coastal town in Oregon, yet for some reason, nature had spared Arcadia Bay, and no one could explain why.

Chloe Price was never a religious person, so she tuned out the fanatics’ claims about divine grace and the power of prayer. But even she understood that someone’s intervention was involved. Even though she didn't finish high school, besides weed and rock music, Chloe had always been interested in science. And no science in the world would allow a disaster of that magnitude to approach its target and then simply... vanish.

If only she knew how much strength it cost the Protector of Arcadia Bay to fight fate itself and emerge victorious.

Chloe and Rachel returned to Arcadia only a month later, once the bulk of the reconstruction work had been more or less completed. Some damaged buildings were still waiting their turn, and the hospital still held injured people, but otherwise, the town could finally breathe easily.

At first, the two lovers had planned not to return at all. But Rachel still hadn’t finished her studies, and life in California was proving far too expensive for both the Prices and the Ambers. So when Joyce and Rose told their daughters it was time to come home, neither could really argue.

David surprised his wife and stepdaugther by managing to do some minor repairs to the house before their arrival. It hadn't been severely damaged — only all the windows were blown out and a few cables were severed — still Chloe let out a relieved sigh when she saw that their home was pretty much as it had been before. Rachel was even luckier; surrounded by trees, their house suffered almost no damage, they just needed to clean up the inside. And given that Blackwell Academy had suspended classes indefinitely due to the emergency, Rachel and Chloe had plenty of free time to spend alone and make up for the month they spent in different cities of California.

Even if Chloe didn't want to admit it, she was incredibly happy that her hometown was still standing. No matter how many times she wished for it to be wiped off the face of the Earth, or for a nuclear bomb to drop on it, or for aliens to take over, the truth was, Chloe would have been devastated if Arcadia Bay had been completely destroyed.

It was still the town of her childhood. It was the place she and Max had once claimed as their pirate kingdom. Her father was still buried there. It was here that she met Rachel Amber and got a second chance at happiness. Without Arcadia Bay, there would be no memories, neither bad nor good.

So, she was grateful to whatever or whoever saved her town. Even if she couldn't wait to finally escape its grasp. To kidnap Rachel from her house, shove her into her pickup, and ride off with her into the sunset toward their next adventure. Away from deadly drug dealers, pretentious Blackwell snobs, the endless demands from the step-ass about her laziness, and psycho photographers.

Yes, the truth about Mark Jefferson’s deeds finally came to light. As it turned out, the Arcadia Bay police hadn't been idle this whole time and had actively collected evidence of his involvement in the years-long disappearances of young women. According to the police chief, they received an anonymous call. The caller directed them to the abandoned Prescott Farm, where they discovered the very barn from the photos found on Chloe. Beneath it lay a bunker, converted into a photo studio the caller referred to as the "The Dark Room", that also appeared in the pictures with Jefferson and Nathan.

It was easy for the police to conduct a thorough search of this bunker, and as a result, they discovered an entire shelf of red folders, which became the main evidence for the prosecution in court. Jefferson's lawyer tried to argue that the photos, allegedly provided by some unknown woman (Chloe wasn't mentioned during the case so as not to put her in danger), simply couldn't have been taken without his client's knowledge. Especially the ones taken inside the bunker. The judge had to agree with this argument, as it was indeed unclear how a photographer could have pulled off such a trick unnoticed. However, the jury was not impressed by the lawyer's eloquent arguments.

But they were certainly impressed by those red folders. Or more precisely, their contents. To maintain the victims' anonymity, the jury was only shown a small portion of the photos Mark Jefferson had taken, both in Arcadia Bay and long before. The judge, however, saw all of them, and the look on his face while viewing this vile art said more than words could. Federal investigators managed not only to identify every one of the famed photographer’s victims, but also to interview most of them. Tragically, several girls remained listed as missing persons.

In short, the prosecution easily presented enough evidence to secure a conviction against Jefferson. After the jury delivered their guilty verdict, the former teacher declined to make a final statement. He left the courtroom without saying a word.

For the alarming number of crimes, Mark Jefferson was sentenced to life in a maximum-security prison without the possibility of parole. Nathan Prescott received nine years due to his age and with the help of his family. Sean Prescott, listed as the owner of the infamous bunker, suffered massive reputational damage and lost the majority of his business partners. Although his involvement in Jefferson’s crimes was never proven, the association alone was enough to destroy much of what he’d built.

The day after the verdict, news outlets — from local papers to national broadcasts — spread the news of Jefferson's horrific crimes across the country, and the public gasped in shock. The news that the famous photographer had spent years kidnapping girls, drugging them, and photographing them for hours with the goal of "capturing the transition from innocence to corruption," overshadowed even the lingering discussions around the most terrible storm in Oregon's history. It didn't help that Jefferson committed his atrocities in the very same town. If not many people knew about Arcadia Bay before, now probably everyone had heard of this small, unremarkable town.

When the news reached Chloe, shivers ran down her spine. Now she knew what could have happened to her beloved if that girl in black hadn't intervened. And Chloe no longer doubted that it was her. Oh, how she wanted to meet her hero! Not only to thank her wholeheartedly and swear eternal loyalty, but also to satisfy her curiosity. She had to know: why her? Why did someone need to help her, of all people? She was, at best, nothing special, an ordinary loser who screwed up her life because of a grudge against the whole world. She didn't deserve her own guardian angel. Even Max had given up on her worthless ass.

Chloe wanted to get to the truth but didn't know how. Since the tornado nearly swallowed everything she loved and hated, the Unseen Protector had never appeared again.

Rachel... It took her time to process everything. After asking Chloe not to bother her for a couple of days, Rachel locked herself in her room, where she hid under the covers and cried for a long, long time. She couldn't believe that Nathan, the boy she considered her friend, could try to do something like that to her. And Mr. Jefferson? Rachel thought he would be her ticket into the world of modeling. That he singled her out from the other students, saw something special in her. Hell, she even flirted with the creep! Rachel was convinced she understood people better than anyone, but in the end she falling into this predator’s trap, not the other way around. Her overconfidence and carelessness nearly cost her her life. What the fuck was she thinking?!

Three days later, Rachel asked Chloe to come to her house. In her room, tightly hugging her girlfriend, with tears in her eyes, she apologized for every time she had hurt her, lied, and put her in danger. She also asked Chloe never to leave her. Chloe decided that the best way to make that promise was with a tender kiss.

Two years later, Chloe Price proposed to the love of her life. Six months after that, Rachel Amber finally gave up her father's last name and became Rachel Price.

Chapter Text

Chloe was 32 when her life took another unexpected turn.

She had just woken up after an exhausting night shift at her own bar, the Three Whales. Business was tough, the customer base was still in its infancy, and Chloe had to pinch pennies wherever she could, including on staff. She was doing everything herself: sourcing supplies, tending bar, cleaning up. It was hard work, and sometimes she felt tempted to give it all up and go back to her friend’s workshop. But Chloe kept pushing on, driven by a desire to better herself. She had already quit drinking and smoking, started jogging in the mornings, and made a point of intellectual growth. All that stood between her and genuine self‑respect was becoming the family’s provider.

Of course, the unwavering support of her wife was invaluable. Rachel often cheered exhausted Chloe up with kind words and tender affection. Frankly, Rachel earned enough for both of them, even by Los Angeles standards. But that didn’t sit right with Chloe. When she left Arcadia Bay, she swore to herself she’d never leech off anyone again and would forge her own path in the big city. She was well aware that Rachel got utterly worn out after long shooting days, and on top of that, she still handled most of the household chores.

In short, Chloe was doing everything in her power to lift the financial burden off her wife’s shoulders. Still, she couldn’t deny how utterly draining it all was. So that day, she allowed herself to be lazy just for a couple of hours.

Chloe slowly threw together some morning toast and grabbed a carton of orange juice from the fridge. With a groan, she plopped down on the couch and switched on the TV. She didn’t care what was on; her only wish was to let her body recover to something resembling a decent state. So when the morning news came on, she didn’t bother changing the channel to something more interesting and just started munching on her first piece of toast.

Her second piece of toast dropped from her hand when the anchor moved from political rallies on Houston’s streets to the recent FBI raid on a human‑trafficking ring’s underground base in Chicago. The network was particularly proud to show exclusive footage from the scene: dozens of agents, backed by local police, storming an unremarkable building that looked like either an abandoned factory or some kind of warehouse.

And the sight of the person leading the operation made Chloe’s heart clench.

Long, jet‑black hair pulled into a ponytail at the nape of the neck. A beautiful constellation of freckles across the cheeks, neck, and collarbones. Pale blue eyes narrowed in tense anticipation. A dark blue vest with "FBI" printed on the back, draped over a light gray blazer. Tiny silver spiral‑shaped earrings. Short burgundy‑painted nails on arms crossed over the chest.

…and a thin scar on the left hand, running from the thumb to the little finger.

Chloe couldn’t believe her eyes. Her mouth fell open, then snapped shut again; a thousand thoughts swirled in her head, yet not a single one cohered. She forgot who she was, where she was, what day it was. Just one image on the TV screen was enough to paralyze her entire body.

Thirteen years had passed since she’d last seen this person. Yet Chloe recognized her instantly.

The girl in black.

The one who’d saved her from punishment after her reckless stand against Damon, with no safety net.

The one who’d convinced Sera not to give up on her dreams of being mother.

The one who’d spared Rachel from becoming Jefferson’s lab rat.

The one who’d neutralized Nathan when he posed the greatest threat to reckless Chloe.

The one Chloe believed had prevented the greatest natural disaster in Arcadia Bay’s history.

A guardian angel who’d watched over her for years.

...

At the bottom of the screen, just above the news ticker, white text appeared on a blue background.

Chloe didn’t even notice she’d gotten to her feet. She only realized it when her knees buckled and she collapsed back onto the couch. Even after the report ended and the anchor moved on to other news, Chloe’s eyes remained glued to the screen.

Max...

All this time... For so many years, she’d been convinced Max didn’t care about her. That Max had forgotten her, abandoned her, just moved on. And Chloe had come to terms with that — through pain, tears, and denial, but she’d accepted it. She really did. She’d found replacement for Max, though deep down she knew no one could ever truly take Max Caulfield’s place. Max was... is unique. Not that Chloe was unhappy with her current life, but having her best friend by her side would’ve been the perfect icing on the cake. Still, Chloe had grown used to the universe not caring about her wishes.

And yet, here she was, dignified, proud, on the TV screen, with the whole country witnessing Chloe’s long‑held belief that Max was destined for greatness. Maybe not in the FBI, of course — not with her natural shyness — but... damn, Max works for the FBI. How many more surprises did life have in store for her?

But all of that faded in comparison to the fact that it was Max who had been watching over her all this time. Max Caulfield was the girl in black. Max Caulfield was her guardian angel. Chloe had always thought of Rachel as her angel, but now she wasn’t so sure. No matter how talented her wife was, even Rachel couldn’t just vanish and reappear at the snap of a finger, exactly when she was needed the most.

Hundreds of questions swirled in Chloe’s head by the time the TV shut off automatically after sitting idle for too long. She just sat there, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. And the key question wasn’t even “How?” but “Why?”. Chloe didn’t think about how Max had hidden from her sight all these years, what kind of magic she’d used to help everyone around while staying in the shadows.

But why had she done it? Why had she saved Chloe time and time again, yet refused to get in touch? It would soon be eighteen years since Chloe last spoke to her childhood friend and first crush. And now she was finding out that Max hadn’t forgotten about her at all? That she’d been watching over her, pulling her out of trouble, punishing her bullies with some kind of cosmic superpowers? Who the fuck is she?

As much as she hated the thought, maybe Chloe had never really known the real Max.

Chloe spent the rest of that day in a fog. She barely did anything, didn’t eat, ignored phone calls — even from Rachel — and never left their apartment. When her wife came home, Chloe didn’t bother to greet her. Rachel found her spouse still on the same couch, staring lifelessly at the blank TV screen. She was still in her pajamas, her short strawberry-blonde hair disheveled and sticking out in all directions. A half-eaten toast lay on the carpet in front of the couch. A closer look revealed dried tear tracks on her cheeks.

To say Rachel was worried was an understatement. She had never seen Chloe like this since... well, ever. It was as if all the life had been sucked out of her. She barely responded to questions, avoided eye contact, and didn’t even turn her head when Rachel gently asked what had happened. As far as Rachel knew, she hadn’t done anything to cause her wife’s fragile state. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened lately; their life had long settled into a steady, even somewhat boring routine.

She had no idea that Chloe Price had just uncovered Arcadia Bay’s most incredible secret. For better or worse, she’d finally gotten the answer to a question she’d first asked at sixteen. And now even more questions tormented her poor mind, putting her entire body on pause.

Rachel had no choice but to carefully lift her beloved wife off the couch, lead her to their bedroom, and settle her on the bed next to her. She held Chloe tightly, hoping it might help even a little.

Chloe parked on the other side of the street, across from the tall high‑rise that had been the destination of her two‑day trip. Having lived in Los Angeles for years, she’d long stopped being impressed by concrete jungles, no matter their size or design. Still, she had to admit that the FBI field office in Chicago did look impressive.

Sighing, Chloe glanced at the building again. She wasn’t even sure what she’d do once she walked inside. Would they listen to her? Help her find what she was looking for? Or would they just tell her to fuck off and kick her out? In the end, she wasn’t really sure what she was trying to achieve.

A week of intense searching had turned up next to nothing. Yeah, she’d confirmed what she already knew: Maxine Caulfield really did work for the FBI. But of course, any information about agents was strictly classified. Social media hadn’t helped either. If Max was on Crosstalk, she definitely wasn’t using her real name. No phone number, no address, no relationship status. Not even a way to confirm she actually lived in Chicago. Nothing. Nada.

She could’ve tried her luck using Rachel’s connections, but Chloe didn’t want to tell her about her discovery just yet. She had a feeling this secret was meant for her alone. Besides, Rachel wasn’t influential enough to dig into FBI records even in California, let alone in another state.

Right now, Chloe was basically stumbling around blind. All she had was a tiny lead. A TV broadcast showing her favorite superhero saving the world from yet another batch of villains. It was like their homemade childhood comics had come to life and Super‑Max wasn’t just a fantasy after all.

Long story short, after a week of sleepless nights and completely unproductive shifts at the bar, Chloe realized she couldn’t wait any longer. If she didn’t at least try to find Max and shake the answers she needed out of her, she’d never find peace. And that meant a long trip to Chicago was in order. Driving straight to the FBI headquarters in Washington would’ve been crazy, but she was ready to do that too, if it came to it.

Gripping the steering wheel of her blue Jeep tightly, Chloe took a few deep breaths, fixed her hair using the rearview mirror, unbuckled her seatbelt, and got out of the car. It was now or never.

The FBI field office truly conveyed both modernity and the seriousness of the organization. Made almost entirely of glass, the building nearly blinded her as she approached it. The packed parking lot suggested there were enough employees here to cordon off the entire county.

When Chloe spotted four well‑trained armed guards, she swallowed hard. At first, they seemed to ignore her, but the moment she stepped through the metal detector, they searched her so thoroughly she barely held back from accusing someone of harassment. However, after a stern order to leave her phone, smartwatch, and headphones at the security desk, Chloe reminded herself where she was and dropped the idea.

Just like the guards, the brunette at the reception desk — roughly Chloe’s age — didn’t seem to notice her until she approached the counter. After finishing some rapid typing, the woman lifted her head and scanned Chloe with an emotionless gaze.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. How can I help you?"

"Um, hello," Chloe mumbled timidly, mentally kicking herself for her awkwardness. She scratched the back of her head. "I... honestly, I'm not entirely sure I came to the right place, but... I'm looking for Maxine Caulfield, and... well, I thought, since she works here..."

Her words seemed to attract the attention of... Safiyah Llewellyn-Fayyad, judging by the badge near her breast pocket. Well. Chloe figured it would be stupid to even try to pronounce that name with her current nervousness. Offending a federal agent wasn't what she was trying to achieve after driving halfway across America.

"May I ask what you need Special Agent Caulfield for?" the brunette raised an eyebrow, completely shifting her attention to the nervously fidgeting Chloe.

"Well... We were pretty close as kids, but then she moved, and... well, I haven't seen her for almost two decades," Chloe would never admit that the reasons were actually far greater than just that. Can't just tell someone you're looking for a fucking superhero who saved your life more times than you can count.

Agent Safiya narrowed her eyes. “And why do you think coming to a federal building for this was a good idea?”

Chloe didn’t have an immediate answer. The brunette’s scrutinizing gaze was both irritating and unsettling. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. She knew this wasn’t going to be easy.

“Look, miss-”

“Missis. Or Agent, preferably.”

“Right. Agent, uh...” Chloe glanced again at the badge. “...Fayad. I just want to find my long‑lost friend. I love- she meant a lot to me once. I just need to know if she still wants to see me. If not, I’ll leave, and you’ll never hear from me again. I promise. Can you just contact her and tell her Chloe Price is here? Please.”

As the last words left her lips, Agent Safiya’s eyes widened. For a moment, her gaze darted across her desk, which Chloe found somewhat suspicious. It was as if her request had flipped some switch inside the woman, turning off the cold‑hearted‑bitch mode. A few seconds later, though, her expression shifted. A cunning smile spread across her face as she folded her hands on the desk.

“Well, Mrs. Price,” she drawled, suddenly seeming far more interested in her visitor. Chloe didn’t miss that the agent had gotten the “Mrs.” right on the first try. “I’m sorry, but Agent Caulfield is currently in a meeting... somewhere else."

At that, Chloe’s head drooped. So much for her chance to see Max. Of course she’d be busy with work. Unlike Chloe, she was a real go‑getter, always in business. She had criminals to catch, after all. Chloe smirked faintly. Maybe she should just forget this crazy idea and go home to her wife. Open the bar again and lose herself in hard work until the past faded away...

Agent Fayad cut through her thoughts. “But. I might have something for you.” At the sight of Chloe’s eyes lighting up with hope, the brunette’s cunning smile widened. She scanned her desk again and leaned forward. “One moment, please.”

Without wasting time, Safiya started rummaging through her desk. After checking each drawer one by one, her eyes finally gleamed with satisfaction. With a loud “A‑ha!”, she proudly plopped down a small black cardboard box secured with a rubber band. At first glance, it looked like a shoe box, though a child‑sized one. The opaque lid made it impossible to tell what was inside without opening it, and Chloe had no idea what to make of it.

She just stood there, blinking in confusion as her brain struggled to kick into gear. At the moment, Chloe_Price.exe was unresponsive, and frankly, she wasn’t all that bothered by it. By this point, anything even remotely connected to Max Caulfield was more than strange and in a way overwhelming. Even this overly energetic agent at the front desk raised more questions than she answered. Chloe wouldn’t have been surprised if this whole damn building turned out to be from another world.

At first, Chloe thought the agent was going to open the box herself. In a way, she almost wanted her to. She had no idea what was inside, and part of her was afraid to find out. Seriously, what the fuck? She’d driven two thousand miles just to finally meet the person who’d literally performed miracles for her — only to be handed another damn puzzle? What was this all about?

But Safiya simply pushed the box toward her, saying, “She asked me to give this to you. She knew you’d come.”

“She knew?” Chloe managed to choke out, stunned. “But how?”

“Believe it or not, that’s a question a lot of people around here ask,” Safiya smirked, then shook her head. “And she rarely answers it. Just take it and go. Sorry, but I can’t help you any further. I need this job.”

Chloe considered bombarding her with more questions, but when she looked up from the black box in her hands, Safiya had already slipped back into full‑on ignore mode, typing away at her work laptop with a blank expression.

So there was nothing left to do but take what she’d been given and head over to the security desk to retrieve her things.

But she hadn’t even made it a couple of steps when Safiya’s voice cut through from behind. "One moment, Mrs. Price."

Chloe raised an eyebrow in confusion. Her eyes were full of sorrow, and she was doing her best to hold back tears.

"If you want my advice: don't get your hopes up. Whoever you knew as Maxine Caulfield, that person is no longer your friend. If she wanted to contact you, she’d be standing here next to me right now. Trust me, she is the kind of person who always gets what she wants."

After the blonde visitor left the complex, the security guard monitoring the cameras gave Safiya a nod. She picked up the office phone, quickly dialed a number she memorized, and waited for the ringing to stop.

"Hello."

"Miss Caulfield? She was here."

"Yes, I know. I can see her from my window. Did you give it to her?"

"Yes, ma'am. I did."

"And you certainly didn't look inside?"

"No, ma'am. As ordered."

"Smart girl. I hope you didn't give her any advice of yours?"

"Um... no, ma'am."

"Good. Thank you, Safi. I owe you one. I don't think she'll come back. But if she does, have Richards take her to my office, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am. Will do. Uh... if I may, could I ask one question?"

"Only one. I'm busy right now."

"That woman, Chloe. Was she really your friend?"

"...I know what you're thinking. Maxine Caulfield doesn't have friends. Maxine Caulfield is not a human, but an agent."

"That's not what I-"

"I'm aware of what they say about me, Safi. But Chloe... she's special to me. Much more than just a friend. Unfortunately, I couldn't properly show her that. She shouldn't... Okay, that's enough. Get back to work."

She hung up. Safiyah frowned but did as she was told. If this job had taught her anything, it was that sticking your nose into other people's business had consequences.

Chloe sat in the back seat of her car, the black box resting on her knees, still secured with the rubber band. Fifteen minutes had passed since she got inside, and she was still finding it difficult to move. Needless to say, her thoughts were in complete disarray.

Max had given her this box. It contained what Max wanted her to see. They hadn't contacted each other for over a decade (though Chloe was no longer sure of anything; Max might have continued watching over her all this time), and now she had something Max wanted to show her.

And she knew. She knew Chloe would come. She waited. She waited but never appeared to her personally. Why? Why was Chloe still not worthy of seeing Max? Hadn't she grown beyond her old self? Hadn't she become better? Why was Max willing to save her pathetic ass time and time again, yet still refused to meet her, delegating the responsibility to some fucking secretary?

A part of Chloe didn't want to open that box. To throw it away, stomp on it, burn it, drown it. Maybe it's Max who wasn't worthy of Chloe. If she was too cowardly to just fucking call, why should Chloe take the initiative? She didn't need this. She had Rachel, she was happily married to her soulmate. She had a home, friends, her own bar. She had even reconciled with David fucking Madsen, and she and her mother were practically best friends now. Max was the past, dragging her down.

Except, that wasn't true. Max wasn't just her past. She was a hero. An angel. She wasn't just a vanished friend who abandoned Chloe at the graveyard while her dead father was being buried. She was the one Chloe hadn't been able to stop thinking about since she watched that cursed broadcast.

So she opened the box. Not hastily, not confidently. Slowly and cautiously. Yes, a part of Chloe didn't want to open it. But another part was simply terrified of what she might find. Receiving a mysterious package from an FBI Special Agent who had recently taken down an entire human trafficking ring could be quite terrifying.

The lid of the box fell to her feet, and Chloe's breath hitched. Slowly lowering her gaze, she cautiously examined the contents of the box.

There wasn't much. Just a few sheets of paper, clearly torn from some notebook, a single Polaroid photo on top, and a simple disposable phone. Grabbing the phone first, hoping it would help her call Max, Chloe was disappointed to find it was password-locked. Of course. What was she expecting with her shitty luck? Then her eyes fell on the photo.

A Polaroid. It had been a long time since she’d seen one. The last time was one that came out of her father's camera shortly before he left on the fatal trip to pick up Joyce from the store. That memory alone was enough to nearly make Chloe cry. But then the sad thought gave way to a nostalgic one. Polaroid photos — that was so Max. She was always a goddamn hipster. Chloe involuntarily smiled at the corners of her lips. But only for a moment. Then a frightening realization was born in her mind.

This picture. It was impossible. It showed two palms, both left, one partially layered over the other. Clearly visible on the ring fingers were two shiny black signet rings with a neatly engraved Jolly Roger, one eye patched shut. At the sight of the familiar skull and crossbones, Chloe's heart trembled.

Judging by the slender fingers and long painted nails, these hands belonged to two women standing very close to each other. The photographer was probably Max, and one hand was clearly hers. This could be easily confirmed by the faint, dim freckles on it (no scar, though). But what about the second hand? Whose was it? And why did it seem so familiar?

Chloe brought her own hand up to her eyes in disbelief, though she didn't even need to do that to know the answer. It was obvious from the rings in the photo. That damn Jolly Roger... Their pirate symbol, almost forgotten, but apparently only by Chloe. She knew whose second palm was in the photo...

But she didn't understand how it was even possible. She definitely didn't remember taking such a photo. Not with Max. Not with her friend she hadn't seen for over ten years. And if you didn't count that one meeting in the school bathroom, then eighteen years. And those rings... they looked so much like... wedding rings.

This was exactly what Chloe would have insisted on if she had married Max instead of Rachel.

The picture slipped from her trembling hands and fell to her feet. Her heart ached painfully. Her vision blurred, and her head spun. Chloe didn't immediately realize she was shaking, but she quickly tasted the salty flavor of tears on her lips. Throwing her head back against the seat, she covered her face with her hands and let out a painful moan.

Thoughts spun in a frantic dance in her head. Questions, doubts, fears, and more questions. She didn't understand anything, didn't remember anything. What was this photo, where did it come from? Maybe she was just dreaming all this? Yes, a dream — that would explain everything perfectly. She just fell asleep somewhere in a motel on the way to Chicago, or, like, in her car while gathering the courage to go to Max's workplace. Or in bed with Rachel, because she hadn't actually gone anywhere at all.

But it wasn't a dream. It was real. She was really looking at an impossible photo that she had no memory of. Wiping the tears from her face, Chloe blinked, fiercely rubbed her eyes a few times with her sleeve, and tried to regain her breath. Looking down, she confirmed that the photo hadn't moved. And then, apparently deciding she wanted to completely break herself, she pulled out the final present from the box.

The few sheets of paper were completely covered in ink; the handwriting was shaky and uneven in some places, but she still recognized it. She didn't even need to look closely at the content of the pages to know whose handwriting it was. Max. Always Max. So many years had passed, but she still remembered how beautifully Max formed her letters.

There were a few small doodles in the margins, as well as a barely visible trace of glue. Apparently, the pages originally held other Polaroid cards, but Max had peeled them off before placing the papers in the black funeral box.

These were pages from her diary.

Chloe swallowed hard and cautiously prepared herself for the next trial Max had prepared for her. Surely something strange, incomprehensible. So far, everything connected to Max had been related to the completely unimaginable one way or another. Chloe was seriously not even sure if Max was human. After several heavy breaths, Chloe began to read.

June 18th

Today, I was reminded why my life can’t be normal.

I hoped I wouldn't have to make such difficult decisions anymore, but it seems Fate isn't done playing with me yet. Another storm is coming, and I'm once again standing on the edge, holding the scales of destiny.

Chloe has been acting strange all week. She looks troubled, constantly avoids eye contact, and rarely looks at me. When we make love, she holds me so tightly, like I might disappear at any moment, and I can tell from her tired eyes in the morning that she’s having trouble sleeping. When she came home from work, she would go straight to the shower, and we barely spoke during dinner.

I tried to ask her what was wrong, but she kept brushing me off, saying everything was fine. That should have pissed me off, but it seems I'll never be truly mad at Chloe. Not after everything I put her through. Even after all these years, I still feel like an ass for abandoning her for five years. And then the storm... Anyway, I was waiting for her to tell me herself.

And she did. Dog, she so did. Sometimes I regret swearing not to rewind our conversations anymore, because I definitely didn't want to hear what I heard.

As my powers keep growing, it’s not surprising that she asked me again to go back and save Arcadia Bay. We’ve actually had this conversation repeatedly. And I understand why she keeps asking about it even years later, I really do. I myself feel awful that I finally have the chance to fix everything I screwed up, but I'm not taking it out of fear of losing all the years we've spent together. The years we healed together. Because even if I succeed, which Chloe will I return to? How much of what I remember now will happen again, and how many memories will remain only with her?

But she keeps asking, and I keep bending. After all, I want Joyce back too. And Kate, and everyone else... even Frank. Maybe not Nathan, but to some extent, he deserves to live too. Plus, I really want to relieve Chloe of the burden of guilt for their deaths, which I know she never got rid of. But today she added something else, and because of that something else, I can't stop crying when she's not looking.

My wife asked me to go back in time to bring her ex back to life before we can reunite again.

We were sitting at the table after dinner when she finally voiced her request. I could see how uncomfortable she was, because she knew herself that asking me for something like that was wrong, unfair. I really hoped she would get over Rachel's death, especially after that revelation with Frank. Although, truthfully, her words also make sense. Rachel deserves this chance just as much as everyone else. What Jefferson did to her was horrible. To be objective, I really am capable of saving her, and I should. But what will that mean for us?

Chloe tearfully swore that it wouldn't change anything, that we would still be together, and I wouldn't even have to fight for her, but we both knew it was a lie. I saw it in her eyes. Uncertainty. Regret. Fear. I got up from the table without a word and locked myself in our bedroom. Chloe said the decision was mine alone and that I had time (asshole), but I know she won't forgive me if I refuse.

Our love, our grief, our traumas and healing. Our journey across the country, our own home in New Jersey, the memorable photos on the walls. Our pirate-themed wedding, my dad's tears as he walked me down the aisle, and David's tears as he held Chloe's trembling hand. Our boy that we planned to adopt. We will lose all of this if she doesn't lose Rachel before she meets me again. Doesn't she realize she's breaking my heart? I don't even know what I feel right now: anger or shock. Call me selfish all you want, but all I've ever wanted was to be with the love of my life until the end of our days. We took vows to each other, goddammit!

I don't know what to do. I can't lose her, not again. I'm ready to do anything for Chloe and I will always prove it. But this...

Fuck my life

June 24th

Fine. I'll do it.

I told her when she came home from work and shyly looked away as usual. I met her at the door and laid everything out right away. Well, maybe not everything. She doesn't need to know my whole plan. I know she will never agree if she finds out the price she will pay for a life with Rachel. But I can't do it any other way. I just can't.

I will save Chloe again. I will stop the storm. I won't let Arcadia Bay die. I will rip Rachel Dawn Amber from the clutches of death itself. And after that, I won't return to this new future. I'm powerful enough to use one big rewind instead of a photo jump, I know it. I can feel it.

I'm not sure I'll survive returning to a new Chloe who is in love with someone else. So I'm going to retreat into the shadows and make sure my efforts aren't in vain. Maybe it won't hurt as much that way.

The irony, though. After all these promises to my therapist, Chloe, and myself that I wouldn't get stuck in the past anymore, I'll literally have to dive headfirst into it. But I'll do everything to make Chloe happy. Even if my own happiness becomes the sacrificial lamb on the altar of her new, better life.

Her relief was visible to the naked eye when I announced my decision. She literally breathed out everything that had been building up in her all week. It took all my effort to hide my disappointment and pain, but I did it. For her. After happy hugs from her side, Chloe asked me to take my time and to enjoy what we have now. The words that we won't have this anymore remained unspoken.

Tonight, we will cry together. And tomorrow...

Tomorrow, I will give the love of my life to another woman.

June 25th

Farewell, Chloe. It was a great ride. I will always love you.

By the time Chloe read the last line, tears were streaming down her face. Truthfully, she still didn't fully understand how to process all the information she had received. But the little understanding she did have was enough to break her heart. Max's diary pages fell to the floor after the photo. Climbing onto the seat, Chloe pulled her knees to her chest, buried her face in them, and finally broke down sobbing.

Fortunately or unfortunately, her hysterical sobs were not meant to last too long. About thirty seconds after Chloe curled up into a ball, the clear sound of a ringtone barely reached her ears. Not immediately, but eventually, Chloe found the strength to sit up and reach for the phone that had fallen out of the box when she dropped it during her breakdown.

Still tearful and constantly sniffing, Chloe looked at the phone screen. Private Number — it glowed in large black letters. Without thinking, Chloe pressed the accept button with a trembling thumb and immediately brought the phone to her ear.

"Max...?"

"Hey, Chloe. It's good to hear your voice."

If it weren't for all the weird shit that had happened to her in the last hour, Chloe wouldn't have believed her ears. Hearing Max's voice was both a blessing and an unbearable trial. It was hard to recognize; Max had grown up, turned into a responsible woman, and her voice was rougher, harsher, with a distinct huskiness that gave it a certain detachment. Yet, it still retained the soft care that Chloe remembered from childhood.

To stop herself from crying again, she closed her eyes and quietly repeated. "Max..." When only heavy breathing was heard on the other end of the line, Chloe thought that perhaps she wasn't the only one struggling for words. "I missed you so much."

"Me too, Chloe. Me too."

"I don't even know what to say. All of this... what I just read... is it true?"

"As true as you’re capable of believing in time travel."

The truth was, Chloe herself didn't know what she was ready to believe. She had witnessed a lot of strange events in her life, half of which she simply couldn't explain. If anything, Max's words could at least explain what the hell was going on in Arcadia Bay and who was behind it all.

So Chloe said the first thing that came to mind. "It doesn't matter what I believe and what I don't. I believe you, Max. I know you wouldn't lie about things like this."

"Really?" Max asked, her voice sounding somewhat surprised. "I was afraid I'd have to convince you for a little longer."

"Captain's word."

A soft chuckle came from the other side, which made Chloe smile too. Say what you will, talking to Max always made her smile, even when the conversations were about very, very complicated stuff.

"So..." Max paused for a second. "What do you think about all this?"

Chloe swallowed hard before answering. "I think I was a bitch. And that I'm so fucking sorry."

"Excuse me?"

"Max, you shouldn't have..." Chloe felt dryness in her throat despite all the tears she had just swallowed. She had to speak very slowly to avoid stumbling over every word. "Listen. I'm not saying I'm not grateful for everything you did for me. I mean, you literally beat the shit out of Damon, you helped Rachel and me more often than we deserved, and you absolutely kicked the asses of those fucking psychopaths Jefferson and Prescott. And that storm... that was you too, wasn't it? You stopped it?"

Silence. Max didn't answer for a while. Then. "...yeah. In my timeline, that tornado wiped out the entire town. I couldn't let it happen again."

"And what about Rachel? If you hadn't appeared then, if Nathan had gotten her... she would h-have..." Chloe couldn't pronounce the word. It was as if her brain blocked the very thought that she could have lost her beloved that night.

Apparently sensing her hesitation, Max finished the sentence herself.

"She would have died," hearing such a cold confirmation of her fears, Chloe couldn't hold back a sob. Her eyes welled up again. "It was an accident. Nathan was supposed to drug her so she wouldn't remember anything. But he overdid the dose, and Rachel... You were so broken when we found her, Chloe. You just..."

"That's enough, Max, thank you very much," Chloe interrupted in a choked voice, and Max immediately fell silent. Remembering what she was talking about, Chloe wiped her eyes with her sleeve and took a deep breath. "Anyway, Max, you're a real hero. I'm serious. Not just because you have goddamn superpowers... which, by the way, I'm insanely jealous of."

Chloe could have sworn she heard Max's soft smile on the other end of the line.

"But also because you kept your word. Despite my fears, you didn't leave me when I needed you most. You were my friend to the end and didn't let my stupid decisions ruin my life. I will be eternally grateful for everything you've done for me. And Rachel will too."

At that moment, Max suddenly raised her voice, making Chloe snap her mouth shut in surprise.

"NO!" she shouted. "Please, don't tell her! She shouldn't know about me."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so. I'm serious, Chloe. Don't. Can you do that for me?"

Chloe frowned, then thoughtfully scratched the back of her neck. "Well, fine. I don't like it, but... I kinda owe you everything I have, so... deal."

"Good. Trust me, it's better this way."

Realizing that pressuring her friend was pointless, Chloe returned to her original thought. "Anyway, here's what I saying," she began. "You're not just a hero, Max. You're my hero, with or without powers. But you shouldn't have listened to me when I asked you to do that in, uh... your time?"

"I call them timelines," Max prompted her.

"Whatever. I just want to say it was a dick move on my part to ask you to give up everything you had... well, with me."

"That wasn't you, Chloe. I mean, it was you, but not you-you. That was a different Chloe... my Chloe."

To her surprise, Chloe felt a pang of jealousy when Max's voice was filled with such tenderness. However, she dismissed those thoughts, trying to content herself with the warm feeling that Max was saying her name like that, even if she wasn't quite the Chloe Max was likely daydreaming of at that moment.

"Still me. Just... a more selfish version of me."

"Don't say that," Max immediately rushed to defend her wife (ex-wife? How should their relationship even be categorized?). "She literally sacrificed her entire existence so you could have what was taken from her. You still have Rachel and Joyce, and your friends. No one in Arcadia died, and you're not agonizing over the guilt of their deaths. She gave you the life she didn't have."

"Yeah, but what about your life?" Chloe countered, frowning angrily. "Did that dumbass think about that? She's not here, Max. She didn't have to suffer from loneliness. You did. And... I apologize for that. Be that as it may, she is me, which means the responsibility for your pain rests on me in all timelines. Please, forgive me, Max."

Silence again. Chloe pressed the phone tighter to her ear, afraid she had said something wrong, hoping Max wouldn't hang up and hide from her again. She heard some soft mumbling, then sobs and a rustling sound, paper or something.

After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, Max spoke."Thank you, Chloe. It's not your fault, but thank you anyway. I needed to hear that."

Chloe unconsciously smiled. "Anytime, Max. And I mean it," she hesitated, the words coming with difficulty, though she desperately wanted to say them. "I want to see you, Max. Hearing your voice after so many years is amazing and shit, but I want to finally see you."

More silence. Then an even, but quiet whisper. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"But why?" Chloe almost pleaded. "Why is it a bad idea, Max?"

And again, Max fell silent. It seemed she was just as overwhelmed with emotion as Chloe was. Somewhere, in her private soundproof office, the door locked so no one would disturb her, the Supervisory Special Agent Caulfield sat hunched over her desk, hands buried in her long black hair, knees tightly pressed together. Her secret phone, which she used only for calls with informants and undercover agents, lay before her on the desk. Only the heavy breathing of the woman she desired, but refused to see, came from the speaker.

Finally, Chloe heard a languid, practically pleading mumble. "Because I'm still madly in love with you. With every version of you. Because more than anything in the world I want you back, but I'm forced to stop myself every time that urge takes over. Because after everything I've been through, I no longer care where I end up, as long as you're beside me. But this is wrong. You're with Rachel now, you're happily married, and I don't want to ruin your life just because I can't control myself around you."

To put it simply, Chloe was speechless. She sat in the back seat of her car with her mouth wide open and eyes welling up again. But she couldn't utter a word, though she knew she had to. Max sounded so hurt, so vulnerable —completely unlike the tough, composed woman she saw on the TV screen.

"Remember the day I knocked out Nathan and slipped you those photos of him with Jefferson?" Max asked in the same tone, and without waiting for an answer, she continued. "For you, only a few seconds passed. But it took me three tries not to give myself away. The first time I lunged at you for a hug, and the second time I ripped off my mask entirely and kissed you. Rewinding that hurt, Chloe, it hurt so bad. After that, I swore I wouldn't take such risks again."

Chloe was still in shock from Max's revelations. Her free hand was pressed into the leather upholstery of the seat, and the other gripped the phone so tightly that it began to creak from the pressure. After reading the pages from Max's diary, she already knew about her best friend's feelings. But to hear such an eloquent confession from Max herself? What could she possibly say to that? All sorts of thoughts raced through her head, but eventually, she managed to latch onto one specific idea.

Her angel needed her, and she had no right to falter now. After so many years of being saved, it was her turn to become the Protector and repay a long-standing debt.

"Max..." she whispered, barely suppressing the tremor in her voice. "Please. Stop torturing yourself. You don't have to suffer alone. I'm here for you, and I'm not going anywhere. You'll have to use your time travel mumbo-jumbo to get rid of me."

Now she heard genuine crying. Max had finally broken and was now truly sobbing uncontrollably, just like Chloe a little while ago. And, by all accounts, she wasn't going to stop. So Chloe took the initiative again.

"I know I'm not the Chloe who broke your heart. Maybe I'm not even the Chloe you truly love. But please, let me fix her monumental fuck-up. I swear, I can still be the bestest friend you deserve. I owe you my life. Thanks to you, I have almost everything I dreamed of. Almost. The only thing missing is you, Max."

Whether it helped or not was hard to say, but Max's sobs seemed to quiet slightly. Soon they turned into muffled sniffing, so Chloe continued her therapy. When it came to mental healing, Rachel had really taught her a lot.

"For years, I was sure you had simply abandoned me. That you didn't care, that I wasn't worthy of you, that you had forgotten and moved on. I was wrong, Max. And you're wrong if you think I'll abandon you now. We will always be Max and Chloe, together or not. Unrequited love is a bitch, and I may not understand what you're feeling, but together we'll get through this. We always have. You just need to give us a chance, Max."

When Chloe finished her poignant speech, she froze, awaiting some response. Max continued to sob and sniffle occasionally, but said nothing. And then...

She heard the dial tone. The call had ended.

"Oh, no..." Chloe whispered, then shouted loudly into the receiver with panic in her eyes, like she could still reach Max. "No, no, no, no, no! Max! Please! Max! Don't go! Please!"

And just like that, Chloe Price once again felt like a fourteen-year-old girl, crying over the loss of her father and her best friend simultaneously. At least, the pain felt just as sharp. It would seem that the supply of tears in her body should have been exhausted by then. In reality, Chloe's eyes welled up almost instantly again. Covering her face with her hands, the woman, shaking all over, let out such a piercing howl that it must have been audible from across the street.

"FUCK!!!"

She knew the trip to Chicago might end in failure. She suspected Max might refuse to meet her, hide again, run away. She had mentally prepared herself for disappointment. But in no way was she prepared for what she was experiencing now. That tiny spark of hope that had been flickering inside her since the moment she saw the news broadcast on national TV was completely extinguished. And no one was more to blame for this than herself. Even if it was the Chloe from another timeline.

Chloe had fought her self‑hatred for a long time, with Rachel's help, and she thought she had finally succeeded. But right now, Chloe really hated herself — the other herself, the selfish bitch who prioritized her own well-being over the girl she should have worshipped.

And just as the hysteria began to escalate into something ugly, and Chloe wound up her fist to strike the car window, not caring what would happen to her hand upon contact with the sharp glass...

She saw Max Caulfield.

For the first time in a long, too long time.

The storm in her chest instantly evaporated as Chloe’s eyes widened, her lower lip trembled, her fist unclenched, and her hand slowly dropped. Probably for the hundredth time that day, Chloe was speechless.

Max stood a couple of feet from her car, posture perfectly straight, hands in the pockets of her business jacket, her beautiful black hair flowing freely in the wind. Her expression conveyed focus, tension, and discomfort. The FBI agent glared at Chloe, not moving a muscle or making a sound.

Chloe stared back at Max in silent disbelief. She could have sworn that no more than a minute had passed since their phone conversation. There was no way Max could have gotten here so quickly. She wasn't even supposed to be in the building — that's what she was told at the reception desk. But here she was, a few feet away from her, just an arm's length away. Chloe wondered if she was starting to hallucinate.

After a minute of staring at each other, Chloe finally began to recover from the shock. She even managed to close her gaping mouth, which she was a little proud of. The first rational idea that came to her mind was to jump out of the car to get to Max before she disappeared again.

But just as she reached for the handle, something in Max changed. It was hard to say exactly what; her posture didn't change, but her figure seemed to flicker in space, like a glitch in a video game. Chloe's suspicion of a hallucination intensified.

Then Max raised her palm in a stop gesture, forbidding Chloe from leaving the car. Her piercing gaze was still directed strictly at her, making Chloe gulp. Without lowering her hand, Max gestured for her to roll down the window. Chloe obediently did as she was told, not daring to take her eyes off her childhood friend.

Lowering her palm, Max remained in the same position for a while, breathing heavily and seemingly trembling slightly, whether from cold or nerves. Letting out an uneven exhale, she finally spoke.

"Please, just stay in the car," she requested. Chloe nodded awkwardly and moved back slightly. "Good. Better safe than sorry, you know? I'm not sure I can control myself if you go for a hug again."

"Max..." Chloe breathed out, still not believing she finally had the chance to see her angel after all these years. "Is that really you? I'm not imagining this, am I?"

The corners of Max's lips slightly lifted into a smirk. "Much as I'd like to tease you," her mocking tone was only a cover, masking the longing she felt looking at her beloved, "your imagination isn't that rich."

Chloe blinked, then shook her head, rubbed her still-teary eyes with her sleeve and grinned.

"By the way, looking sick, Maximus! Love the haircut. Black really suits you."

Despite all her efforts, Max couldn't hide the blush on her cheeks. "Thanks. It’s kinda weird seeing you without blue hair, though"

With a slight smirk, Chloe ran two fingers through her blonde locks. "Eh, age is catching up, I guess," she shrugged. "Going back to my roots, you know?"

"Looks like some things do change over time," Max quietly muttered, looking detached. She quickly shook off the daze, shaking her head. "So, uh... there's a fancy restaurant nearby, and I have a friend who works there," she timidly fiddled with the edge of her jacket. "We could talk there. Just... talk. Yeah."

"I'd love to, Max!" Chloe exclaimed happily, barely stopping herself from trying to jump out of the car again.

"Um, okay. Then... do you mind if I drive? I, uh, need something to keep my hands busy."

Chloe frowned in confusion but decided not to argue. Generally, she never let anyone drive her baby — even Rachel had to either settle for the passenger seat or take her own car. However, seeing how nervous Max was, Chloe decided to make an exception this time.

"Okaaaay," she drawled, reaching into her breast pocket for the keys. "Here you go."

She held out her hand through the window, offering the keys to Max. The brunette took a cautious step forward, reaching for the keys from a rather awkward distance. The moment their palms touched, Chloe noticed Max's eyes gleam strangely, and immediately after, she felt Max brush the back of her hand with the tip of her thumb.

The touch didn't last long, as Max quickly pulled her hand back.

"Shit, sorry," she shook her head, embarrassed. "I'll behave, I promise."

"Jeez, dude. And here I thought you were some kind of an ass-kicking secret agent," Chloe commented on the unusual event.

"Usually I am. It's just... I haven't had, um, intimacy since I jumped into this timeline, and... being around you makes me... Let’s just get going, okay?"

Max quickly walked around the car and, hiding her face, rushed to the driver's door. Chloe was about to make a sarcastic remark when it finally dawned on her what she had just heard.

Max hadn't been with anyone since... Oh god. Considering Max's first reappearance in her life after the move, by her rough count, she’d been alone for... sixteen years. A fresh surge of shame hit Chloe with that realization, and she silently dropped her head to her knees. She really fucked Max’s life up, didn't she?

"So, before we do it, I have some rules," a voice from the driver's seat pulled her out of the abyss of remorse, and Chloe looked up with a questioning look.

Max's face had once again taken on an extremely serious expression. She was looking at her passenger through the rearview mirror, brows furrowed, forehead etched with wrinkles. If Chloe didn't know better, she would have winced with discomfort.

"First, you don't ask me about the previous timelines," Max said sharply, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. "For your own good, you're better off not knowing anything about it, so I'm not telling you shit. And if you keep pestering me about it, I'll just rewind to this morning, and you won't see me again. Is that clear?"

Okay, maybe Chloe did wince with discomfort. She had to admit: when necessary, Max knew how to be intimidating.

She nodded timidly. "Crystal."

"Second, you stop blaming yourself for what my Chloe asked me to do," Max continued in the same commanding tone. "You didn't do anything wrong, and I don't blame you at all. If anything, I'm the one responsible for my own actions. So, there’s no need to walk on eggshells around me."

"That's not exactly easy when you look at me like that," Chloe remarked, scratching the back of her head awkwardly. She really didn't know how to deal with Max's atypical behavior.

The Max Caulfield she knew was a shy, timid girl who hid behind her from school bullies and couldn't stand even hints of conflict. This Max looked like someone who could walk into a burning building wearing just a Hawaiian shirt, walk out without a single burn, and have saved people slung over her shoulders. Then again, Max had gone through more shit than anyone should ever have to during her absence. And Chloe didn’t even know half of it.

Max pondered for a moment. "Fair enough," her face finally relaxed, albeit briefly. The next emotion to take the stage was the all‑too‑familiar embarrassment that Chloe knew so well. "And rule number three. If I start doing something stupid, like, uh, kissing you or whatever..."

Max looked away from the mirror so Chloe couldn't see her reddened cheeks. To distract herself, she started the engine.

"You have to stop me immediately. No freezing up. No hesitation. Deal?"

"Deal," this time, Chloe was the one frowning. All this talk about Max's lack of self-control was starting to worry her. However, she decided not to voice her fears prematurely.

When Max turned the key in the ignition, the Jeep's engine roared fiercely, earning an approving hum from her. The brunette placed both hands on the steering wheel and nodded.

"Great! Then buckle up, and let's go! I don't know about you, but I'm freaking starving."

"Wait!" Chloe called out, and Max turned her head towards her. "Just one question first. If you were so afraid of meeting me, why send me that box?"

Sighing, Max turned back and stared straight ahead through the windshield.

"Believe it or not, this is your fourth attempt to find me," she said in an even voice, and then chuckled softly. "I have to give you credit, you're very stubborn. Always were. Anyway, I thought you deserved some explanation from me. Plus, well... I kinda wanted to hear your voice too?"

Chloe's eyes widened. As nice as it was to hear that from Max, her mind latched onto something else.

"Wait, fourth?!" she exclaimed louder than she expected.

"Yup," Max nodded. "Like I said, you’re super stubborn. It's... really impressive."

Recovering from the shock, Chloe couldn't suppress a toothy grin. "And do those four times count as previous timelines I'm not allowed to ask about?"

Max looked at her through the mirror again with a serious gaze for a second. But Chloe tried to make the most puppy-dog eyes she was capable of, and apparently, it worked. Max smiled, amused.

"I guess not," she concluded, pressing the gas pedal, and the car started moving. "Honestly, it was even funny."

"Tell me everything," Chloe leaned forward, resting her elbow on her knee and cupping her chin in her palm.

"Well, actually, the first time, it was Rachel who found me," Max looked left to make sure the exit was clear and jerked the steering wheel. The tires screeched, and Chloe's Jeep drove onto the road. "I don't know how or where, but she managed to dig up my email and sent a huge letter that started with a threat to punch me in the tits..."

And so they chatted the whole way to the restaurant. They then spent several more hours talking inside the restaurant, and at the bar across the street where they went afterward. And on the drive back to the motel where Chloe had decided to stay. And in the motel room. And then for a couple more hours on the phone. (Max hadn't dared to give Chloe her personal number right away, so that first night they talked using that burner from the box). It seemed they had accumulated so many topics for discussion during their long years apart that they had enough conversation saved up to last them for a week. This was especially true considering the interrogation Chloe put Max through about her powers, how she pulled off all those badass rescues, and how she managed to stop that massive freak storm!

​(And about the shenanigans they could pull off with her powers. Because regardless of timeline or age, Chloe Price will always be Chloe Price.)

Chloe felt genuinely happy that day. Complete. Despite the fact that she and Max hadn't seen each other since childhood and had ultimately grown into completely different people, their communication flowed as easily as it had twenty years ago. It was like no time had passed, like they were little girls again, playing pirates in the silly costumes lovingly sewn by Vanessa and Joyce.

When Chloe had to return home to Los Angeles, she made Max promise that this wouldn't be their last meeting and that they wouldn't break their incredible, almost magical bond again. In return, Max once more asked her not to tell Rachel anything, at least until she felt ready to meet the person to whom she’d given the love of her life.

They hugged goodbye, the first time in those few days. Max held on so tightly that Chloe had to remind herself who she was and who she wasn't to Max. She kept her word when the brunette unconsciously reached for her lips, and then restrained her hand when she tried to rewind. Then she hugged Max tighter.

On the day Chloe was due back from her "work trip", Rachel buzzed around their apartment like a busy little bee. Deciding to take the day off, she’d cancelled the shoot planned for the day and focused on turning their cozy nest into something festive‑looking.

She woke up early and started the day by texting her beloved wife a sweet good morning and safe travels message. Then she mapped out her to‑do list. First, she went grocery shopping, then tackled the cleaning, and by noon she was already preparing a welcome-home dinner. Less of the healthy veggies, more of Chloe’s favorite bacon. An hour before Chloe’s arrival, Rachel hopped in the shower again, then slipped into a sexy dark‑brown lace lingerie set she’d picked up while Chloe was away. She threw on a bathrobe over it — all to show Chloe how much she was loved and missed.

Things had been rough between them lately. Ever since Rachel had found Chloe sulking on the couch that evening, Chloe had been pretty distant. Her appetite had nearly vanished, her sleep was off, and when she wasn’t working, she mostly stayed locked up in her home office. Their conversations had dwindled to basic "how was your day" check‑ins, and their sex life had pretty much ground to a halt because Chloe was never really in the mood.

Of course, Rachel was seriously worried. At first, she figured she’d just give her wife some space, hoping Chloe would eventually open up about what was bothering her. But after a few days, Rachel’s patience ran out, and she came right out with the question. Chloe just blamed work stress and shut the topic down, retreating to her office again. No matter how hard Rachel tried, she couldn’t get to the truth.

Until one day, about a week later, Chloe announced she was heading to Chicago for a business meeting with a potential partner. According to her, if everything went well, it would solve a lot of the bar’s problems and things would get better. As selfish as it sounded, Rachel didn’t care about the damn Three Whales at that moment — all she cared about was her wife’s well‑being and their relationship. She still had her doubts about the whole wierd story, but she didn’t see any other options, so she agreed to let Chloe go to another state.

And now the day had come when Rachel could finally see that Chloe was feeling better, and they could finally spend time like a real married couple instead of roommates. Despite the depressing thoughts that kept creep gefting into her mind over the past few days, Rachel tried to stay optimistic. The night before, she and Chloe had talked on the phone, and Chloe sounded so cheerful, so full of life. It was like that whole week she’d spent moving around like a robot had never happened.

When Rachel saw the familiar jeep pull into the parking lot, she quickly double-checked her preparations. Moments later, Chloe was sweeping her overjoyed wife into a hug. They laughed, kissed, and talked about how much they’d missed each other.

Rachel led Chloe to the table, showing off everything she’d cooked, and giggling at the delighted look on her face. Over dinner, Chloe recounted the meeting with her sponsor, complaining that he’d initially refused to work with her, and then bragging about how she’d finally convinced him. Rachel listened with a wide smile, but her joy wasn’t so much about Chloe’s business success. It was about her finally dropping the mopey attitude and getting back that slightly cheeky, brassy confidence Rachel had fallen for all those years ago.

After Rachel made some playful claims about how lonely she’d been, and how Chloe really should have called more often, her wife got up from the table with a smirk. Chloe grabbed Rachel, tossed her over a shoulder, and carried her squealing wife straight to the bedroom, where she thoroughly "apologized" for all her absences. It goes without saying how happy Rachel was that night. Their little crisis was finally over, and she had back the woman she’d agreed to marry without a second thought years ago. The happy smile didn't leave her face, even after she fell asleep, resting her head on her wife’s bare chest.

The same couldn't be said for Chloe, who was still wide awake, staring blankly at the ceiling. Restless thoughts continued to swirl in her mind. She hadn't stopped thinking about the mess she was caught in the whole drive back from Chicago, but even that felt like it wasn't enough.

She hated lying to Rachel, she’d never been any good at it. Unlike her wife, Chloe was, frankly, a terrible actress. She’d mess up sooner or later, and the truth would come out anyway. Besides, hiding something so vital felt like a betrayal, and Rachel had been betrayed far too many times in her life already.

But then again, she could understand Max’s position, too. It was too risky to tell Rachel the truth about why she was still breathing, and the sacrifices made for their happy family life. Chloe still felt awful after reading Max’s journal. Knowing that her childhood friend had been forced to give up her dreams, her love, and her chance at happiness with Chloe, just so that those who were destined to die could live, tore her up inside. Hang that kind of guilt trip on Rachel, too? No, thanks.

Reaching out, Chloe picked up her phone from the nightstand and opened her recent text thread with Max.

Me: Just making sure you’re not ignoring me anymore.

Me: Seriously, Max? Again?

Me: Max!

Me: I’m about to turn around, drive back to Chicago, and kick your ass.

Super‑Max: Sorry, I’m here. I was in a meeting with the federal prosecutor. We still haven’t closed that human trafficking case.

Me: Fuck, sorry. I didn’t mean to pull you away from work.

Super‑Max: It’s fine. You’re more important. We just turn off our personal phones during those meetings. Can’t have anyone listening in.

Super‑Max: Are you still on the road?

Me: At a gas station. Still a few hours to go.

Me: This is gonna sound dumb, but I already miss our talks.

Super‑Max: Chloe…

Super‑Max: You know I miss you too. All the time.

Super‑Max: But you shouldn’t get so attached to me.

Me: For the last time, Max, you’re won’t ruin anything.

Super‑Max: You don’t know that. You and Rachel deserve better than this.

Me: For fuck sake, stop worrying about me and Rachel. It’s time you thought about yourself. You’re a freaking time-traveling FBI agent! You’ve gotta be a little selfish!

Me: Anyway, tell your prosecutor to wait. Because I’m calling you right now.

Me: I’m home.

Super‑Max: Remember, don’t tell her anything.

Me: I remember. Even if I don’t like lying to my wife.

Super‑Max: You lied to me all the time when we were married.

Me: You know, it’d be hilarious if I showed Rachel this message right now.

Super‑Max: If you do that, I’ll freeze time and come to LA myself just to smack you >:(

Me: NO EMOJIS

Super‑Max: Ah, nostalgia!

Me: Sweet dreams, Maximus.

Chloe unconsciously smiled after sending the last message. She placed her phone on her stomach and let out a quiet sigh.

Rachel Amber Price is her one and only. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be this way. Maybe she was meant for someone else. But seeing the peaceful smile on her beautiful wife’s face, Chloe understood why her other self from the previous timeline had asked Max to save Rachel.

Rachel is her one and only. They've lived together for half their lives, been through a lot, and are totally happy with each other. Maybe that would never change. And yet...

When the phone vibrated on her stomach, and Chloe read the reply from the Unseen Protector:

Super‑Max: Good night, Chlo <3

Her heart started beating even faster.