A/N: Spoilers for the first act of Chapter 4 follow.

"...I want this time with you to be my last memory. Do you understand? All you have to do is just crank up the IV to eleven."

I suppose in a way, I shouldn't be surprised at all, should have seen it coming. I'm not blind. I spoke to Joyce and William, indulged my terrible habit for prying into people's lives - which admittedly was a big factor in saving Kate from exactly this situation now (bitter, bitter irony), seen the letters from the Doctors, their trying to temper with hope the grim and almost certain inevitability of Chloe's impending demise.

The things you learn about, when you twist and shuffle the pieces of other people's lives around, with such blithe lack of caution.

I force myself to read everything that I can, look at every detail in the house, gently probe Joyce and William, in order to MAKE myself understand what I've done. To deny myself any and all excuses to simply look away from it all, pretend that this is just an honest mistake, easily correctable.

Don't you make light of this, Max Caulfield. Don't you fucking dare.

The terrible cost of playing Goddess with this power. Bad enough for Time to shatter Chloe's life into a million jagged fragments, but to constantly rub salt into the wound with the financials and the lack of insurance coverage? I mean, HELLO, how fucked up is this country, when some other place like Europe would see to it that her parents were never driven into fucking bankruptcy over her condition? Not to mention everything that has been taken away from her. Her school, her future...her entire LIFE.

The hits come, one after the other: easy enough to piece together the story of Chloe's life since I gave her back her father. The rock of her strength and joy for life constantly eroded by the tides of outrageous fortune, until there's barely anything left standing. Still, she's Chloe. I see the bedrock core of her character, now matter how worn away and fragile it is now. She may be soft spoken, and a mere shell of her former self; but she's fought. She's carried on, adapted as best as she could. Flipped life a middle finger in her mind, when she couldn't physically move her arms any longer. She was ready to endure and rage against the dying of the light, in her own way.

Until she heard what the Doctors said. Until I came along to see her, and gave her hope for meeting death on her own terms.

But the story of my own life, in this timeline?

So few details, that say so damn much. The barely-there form letter "I" sent her, with it's pithy and pathetic 'Oh, I won't let it get in the way of our friendship.' The picture of me having fun on my road trip, without her. This other me, who ultimately turned into the vapid party girl, sucked into the Vortex Club's corrupting influence. Too busy 'getting her party on' to write anything more in her diary after the first week.

Stupid, spoiled little bitch! Probably forgot all about Chloe. Too busy getting stoned and wrapped up in her own self-absorbed orbit to even spare your best friend a second though.

What the fuck does it say about me, that I could turn out that way? I don't recognize myself when I see the other Max.

Or do I?

Because like it or not, I have to turn and face the naked, ugly truth:

In this timeline, and in the other, I let our friendship die. I abandoned Chloe. Made excuses, and wrote it off, and tried to tell myself things like, "Childhood friends drift apart. It's all part of growing up, and becoming an adult, you know? Lighten the fuck up."

Is there that much difference between the two of us?

...there is. I think. But only just. Only in the last few days. I read once, a scene in a book? A play, or was it a movie? Where the protagonist finally admits that maybe the only force that can change the true nature of a man is regret. The honest and open acknowledgement of the wrongs that a person committed, their shitty deeds, the great and the small, and feels shame. And more than that, is motivated by a desire to go through the difficult work of atonement, even when there's no guarantee of forgiveness or salvation at the end.

Well, if that's true...I've got regret for change, ten times over. And more than enough motivation to atone.

What happened to her, the Bizarro Max? Did I take over her body? If I go back in time and make this right, does this other timeline vanish? Or does the other Max come back, left to deal with the consequences of what I've done?

If so, then she deserves it!

Because I am going back.

There's no question now!

But first, I have to say goodbye, for what I pray is the last time.

"Max?" Chloe asks, trying to keep the calm in her voice. "I know I laid a lot on you just there, but please. It's okay. I'm an adult. I'm giving you my permission...I can't do this on my own. I would, if I could."

I don't think twice. Maybe I should, but I know if I start to analyze this, I'll be paralyzed with uncertainty and doubt. And anything I do now gets washed clean away when I go back and fix this, right?

Right?

I could just jump back right now, abrogate taking any responsibility for this. But...but I just can't.

I can't just leave her like this. I can't abandon the woman I love...

...oh my God.

I love you, Chloe Price.

Wait, what? The hell? Where is this coming...?

The thought, the realization itself may rise up unbidden, but I can't immediately accept it as true.

Of course I love Chloe, she's my best friend. We've been growing up together from age five. But that doesn't mean...LOVE...love...

Or does it?

The evidence compiles itself in my mind, as I go over the events of the last few days.

The initial shock of seeing her again, coming to my rescue, after effectively cutting her out of my life for five years. How immediate the guilt, simmering underneath the surface, finally coming to a full boil in her presence. The quick, easy comfort we start to take in each others presence again, like almost no time has passed.

That alone would explain friendship. Sisterhood.

Max, there's more to this. There's more.

Jealousy.

Seeing how Chloe was over the moon...

...for your precious Rachel Amber. Who turned out to be totally unworthy of you, by the way!

Well, of course I'm jealous! Yeah, it's shitty and unreasonable, but how could I not expect Chloe to make new friends after I abandoned her. She had a friend. A close friend. Maybe...probably...a better friend than me. That still doesn't mean it was more than just...

It flared up when I realized that they were more than just friends. I mean...the way Chloe talked. The way she's been reacting to the discovery. Part of me wanted to comfort her, tell her I was sorry when the truth about Rachel and Frank came out. But the other half? Or bigger? It...

I was...happy.

Oh God, help me, I was happy. Triumphant even.

Happy, like I was when Chloe and I burst into the school. A midnight dip in the pool. Eyes lingering on each others curves, at least...I think I was for her? I'm pretty sure she was looking at me...but...I mean, of course, that's normal, because we haven't seen each other in a while...and...

The questions. The pointed questions. About my interest in boys? About whether I was seeing someone?

The answers. How quick I was to indicate to her that Warren...

...he thinks we're going on a date. I mean...sure, I like him, he's a friend, he's funny, and cute, and there's a lot of good qualities for him.

But there's a nervous edge. Like I'm leading him on. The guilt, a feeling that he wanted more, and I was just prolonging the inevitable disappointment that was to come, when I let him down. But also a sense of relief for that day. Like the relief I felt when I saw him and Stella clearly together as a couple. They...they did make a good couple.

But enough about Warren.

My mind drifts back to the night before.

When Chloe and I were in the pool, splashing, swimming, laughing. When she told me we'd be together forever...

Oh God. The...the intensity of it. The intimacy. I could feel it, down to my toes.

The flirting, oh shit, the mad flirting.

In the diner, when she was showing her powers off to Chloe:

"Wow Max, you could totally hook up with someone, and they'd never know it. I bet you could even kiss me, and take it back."

The morning after the "Blackwell Raid", when Chloe was wanting to dress her up in Rachel's old clothes, and then...

"I dare you to kiss me Max. I double dare you; kiss me now."

I'm so caught up in my thoughts, I have to rewind, before Chloe asks me what's wrong. Why I haven't given her an answer yet. I...I need more time to process this, I...

I did kiss her. Sure. She was right, I could have easily taken it back. But I was curious and.

I kissed her.

And then, the sudden, stark visceral reaction. The feeling of rightness, down to my instinctive core. Not evening questioning. The feeling of...

...wanting more.

So I kissed her again, for the first time. I just...I had to be sure. Right? I mean. It's not like she freaked, but it wasn't like she..we didn't suddenly fall into bed together. We didn't declare undying passion and love for each other. We didn't...

...Chloe, I wanted more.

What is this? Am I gay?

AM I gay?

Don't know.

Does it matter? All I know is that I look at her now, I think of the request she begged of me. And the coalescing rush of all these intense experiences over the past few days I've never known love before, not like this. I think? But there's smoke, there's sparks, there's chemistry. Maybe I didn't see it until now, maybe the moment of clarity is sudden and crystallizing, but the past few days have been one, long massive roller coaster of intense emotion.

I've seen Chloe shot. Twice.

I've seen her run over by a train. Several times, because I couldn't figure out how to save her right away.

And now I've seen her, body ruined, an ironic product of my attempt to make her life happier, telling me how happy and joyful our spending time together has been. How she wants to embrace her inevitable end with those memories at the forefront of her mind.

The hits have kept coming, and coming and coming.

I break down and start to sob, holding my face in my hands.

Love.

How could it NOT be...well, it's MORE than just friendship. It is. I see that now. Maybe it came quick, but I have to think it's more than just a castle built from clouds in less than a week. There was so much between us, growing up. Despite the massive rift in years that separated now and the time when I left for Seattle, none of that simply went away. Maybe it's a love that's been sleeping over the past five years, a love waiting for me to grow old enough to understand it, but I've had enough time, enough rewinds, enough stolen virtual days, and enough chances to try to get things right, to know that this is more than just a couple of besties play-flirting and goofing around.

Right?

I rise up, as if in a trance, and cup her cheeks. Lean in, before she can even ask, and kiss her. I didn't even think about it. I didn't mean to...

No.

I DID mean to. I just didn't think about it. It just came over me now.

It's not the first time our lips have met, not for me.

But I think this is the first time the act has real meaning.

It's too late for me and THIS Chloe. She'll be gone soon, one way or the other. And obviously, as soon as I fix what I've done, I can't just...suddenly say, "Hey, Chloe, we need to have a god damn talk about what the hell is going on between us."

Can I?

I finally pull back. The kiss is soft and sweet. More, much more than just a friendly peck on the lips, but hardly an overwhelming torrent of passion; that wouldn't feel right. But intensity of moment doesn't have to mean intensity of physical action.

I swallow hard, struggling against the effort as the tightness bruises its way down to my sternum. Oh God.

It aches.

"Max? What was...what was that for?" She looks up and over at me with just her eyes. She asks the question, but I can see - or rather, I PRAY that I see - that she's holding out hope, the last taste of it that she'll ever know. This is the end for her. I've caught us both in a vulnerable moment. One that might tell me more of what I need to know.

I collapse back into my chair, the tears stinging my eyes, hot and sharp. My voice like wet gravel, despite how quietly I speak now.

"Should b-be pretty damn obvious, right Che? But I just started to figure it out you know? I'm so, so sorry for not...just for everything! This is all my fault. Mine!" I pound an accusatory fist against my chest. "Maybe if I had figured it out sooner, maybe if I had kept in touch, it would have changed something. Kept you from this, made life better...

Even though "making life better" was what brought us to this moment.

"So I had to...I needed to tell you. And uh - huh." I cough hard, trying to regain my normal voice, and largely failing. "If we're going to do this, I wanted to give you one last happy memory. Of everything that...that maybe we should have had, together. I mean, assuming you even..."

"Oh...Max." She interrupts me, smiling beatifically. "Please don't blame yourself. None of this, NONE of it is on you. If anything, you saved me. Gave me something so beautiful, before the end. You're my angel, Max. Don't ever think you're anything less than that. "

Oh, Chloe. If only you knew the truth. If only you could see what I have.

I search her face, for any sign that she's having second thoughts. That I'd given her something more to hold onto, reason enough to go on, if just for one more day. But it's blindingly obvious now; I've only set her mind firmly and irrevocably down this path.

I stand again, reaching up, and turn up the feed while disabling the alarm, without hesitation, if only because I know that if I delay another second longer, I'll lose the nerve.

A blessed relief bleeds through Chloe's face, and I lean in, kissing her again, harder this time. She responds, but so weakly, the morphine already dragging her down into it's gentle, ultimate embrace.

"I love you, Max." she repeats.

Then she's gone.

I sink back into the chair, and sit there, still and trembling all at once. I choke back the urge to sob, resist the burning desire to leave this timeline, jump back into the picture lying on her lap, from five years ago. The decision point that cost her a life, and me...

...my innocence.

I force myself to look at her, my eyes all but unblinking. I don't know how long. I doesn't even occur to me that at any moment, Joyce or William could come in, wondering why we're so quiet. I sit there, paralyzed in my own way now, forcefully absorbing every details of her still and cooling form. She could be asleep, except for the way her chest refuses to move.

I could take it back. I have that power now. Over life and death. I've been so callow with it, up until now. Treating death and dismemberment as a meager inconvenience, something to divert Chloe away from, and then nervously laugh about later.

There is no going back. Not this time.

...which is why I burn what happened into my mind. Why I sit there and endure it, trapped in a private hell of my own making, while the pain of it all mercilessly tears through my heart. Until my eyes dry from being kept open, until it feels like my sanity is on the edge of fraying.

Only until I feel that I've stepped onto the road of penance, and not a moment before.

I did this. And I couldn't let myself leave until I felt I understood, from every possible angle, and in every conceivable way, the weight and the enormity of what I'd done. How leaping in with my new power, without even considering the consequences, had created this tragedy.

I don't even realize what comes next, not until I'm halfway through doing it, hands working of their own accord to grab my phone, sending a text to myself:

maximadamage: i dont know if you'll see this. i hope that when I go back, undo what i did this all goes away like it never happens. but if this timeline goes on, i gotta say: fuck u, Max Caulfield. fuck u for what youve become and how you forgot your best friend. fuck you for becoming the kind of person I hate. i wont be you, not anymore.

It feels so poisonous now, what's building inside me. Demanding to be unleashed onto the world. But I keep all of my tears, rage, and agony bottled up. There's a storm still coming, and I need to be strong for it. More important, I need to finally grow up. I may have just turned eighteen, but I wasn't anywhere close to being an adult.

That changes. Now.

I look down at what I've written on the screen; the violence and the...the self-loathing of it.

"This changes. Now."

I hit delete.

I take what few shards remain of my childhood naivete and crush it down in my mind until it's little more than a fine dust blowing away in the wind. I shudder all over, a extreme palsy taking over my body until every muscle flares in agony from the exertion.

The old Max burns away, dying with the other girl lying so still in the bed before her.

The new one left in her place swears: "No more."

I grab the photo album, eyes tearing into my target, the mental focus clinking smoothly into place, much easier than before. My surroundings judder and wave, voices of the past filling my brain, providing me with a beacon to lock on to. I can feel myself start to be pulled in towards the photo.

Just as the door begins to open. Just as Chloe's father comes to check on us.

I am so sorry, William. I love you, too. I don't know if I can save you both. Please understand!

And then I'm gone.

TO BE CONTINUED IN RIOTGRRLS IN LOVE, CHAPTER 6.

8-1-15: So I actually ended up making some fairly substantial changes to this story, that change the tone and feeling, based on feedback from a review. I was uncertain at first if it was required, but after seeing self-same reviewer deal with EXACTLY the same moment of "realization" in a far superior way, I realized they were absolutely correct, and that I HAD to go back and at least try to make it better. So Solynna, thank you.

7-29-15: So technically, this story takes place in the Sacrifice/Riotgrrls AU canon. It's here in it's own one shot, because it's kind of heavy material for what's supposed to be a fluff series. It also makes me appreciate how difficult it can be, the risks I took, when I decided to start trying to write the happy ending I was afraid DONTNOD was going to refuse to even let us have a wiff of. I've had to make peace with the fact that I am probably going to have to ignore or rewrite a whole bunch of stuff from chapters 4 and 5 (I haven't even played past Chloe's suicide scene yet, as I write this note, so no spoilers! :).

But this scene was too good not to utilize. It walks too fine a tightrope between heartrenching and overly maudlin. 14 hours later, and I'm still haunted by it. It is such an awesome catalyst to explain how Riotgrrls Max "grew up", and changed, the crystalizing moment where she loses her innocence. It also gives me a chance to play with some survivor guilt and suppressed memory issues in the main series (but not tooo crazy with it.)

You can read this as a memory flashback that Max is just about to wake up from, when chapter 6 of RiL begins.

Also, for a somewhat happier take on it, you should TOTALLY check out rowanred81's "One More Day".