A/N: Happy New Year!

It's been over two years since Life is Strange ended, and consequently, since I started work on this progress. Many things didn't come together the way I had originally intended, but many other things happened that I didn't see coming – most of all, meeting the Max to my Chloe through working on this project, and through writing these characters.

I want to give a special thanks to the friends I've met through this fandom who've stuck by my side through all of my anxieties. Most importantly, I want to thank Jenny for inspiring me to grow and to allow myself to inspire others in turn.

I also want to thank all of you who've read this story.

Of course, I also want to thank the team at DontNod for creating these characters and these concepts. And despite my conflicted feelings over the prequel, I do also want to thank Deck Nine for their efforts and the great images, symbols, and ideas they added to the table.

I'm sorry this final chapter probably wasn't worth the wait, and there's no telling how long it will be until I get to revisit it in visual novel format, though I certainly hope I can improve its concepts by then (especially since most of this chapter's design was with the intent of choice-based stuff in mind). Of particular note, since Episode 1 of BtS, I'd intended to include a D&D sequence with Steph and the ladies as the Bachelorette Party, and I feel like I could use a final scene with Joyce, but just don't have the inspiration right now.

I have every intent to still do this with the visual novel adaptation, but I just don't have the energy to figure out how to do it here right now. Apologies. I can relate with developers who've worked on these games with regard to not being able to fit in everything I want to in the end – but this isn't my paying job. It's something I've struggled to create inbetween everything else in my life. It's at a point where I really just need to let go, start the new year fresh, and re-approach things in the editing process. Thanks for your understanding.

Either way, I hope you've enjoyed this journey, and if I am able to achieve my goals with the visual novel, I hope to catch many of you over there later on down the road. I will add some kind of a epilogue scene to this fic to commemorate when the visual novel is finished, so ya'll know about it.

For now, I hope this story was able to give some of you a fraction of what it gave to me: some kind of development, expression, introspection, and closure for one of my favorite relationships in all of fiction.

It's been a tough past couple of years, and this has been the most difficult project I've ever written.

But through the blizzard, I have foreseen and overcome obstacles, indeed.

Thanks, everyone.

–

Life is Strange
All Wounds

Chapter 20 – A Song of Healing

–

Eyes opened.

Sitting up in bed.

Dark.

Rubbed her eyes.

STORM

Opened her eyes.

Ruins.

That ghost. Familiar deer. Phantom deer.

She was gone. Max hadn't saved her.
Max had lived. Max had Chloe.

But Rachel…
She hadn't, and she didn't.

It was OK, though.
Or, it would be.

A nudge from behind.
A chill up her spine.

Startled.

Dropped her camera. Again.

Picked it back up. Wasn't broken somehow.

Despite everything, still in one piece.

Side by side with the doe, Max stood. And there she was.

Chloe. Smaller? Younger. Her hair...wasn't blue.

Blackwell? Chloe was smoking again a brick wall.

Chloe was talking with William.
Chloe was talking with her Other Self.

Wait, what?

No, Chloe was talking with no one...

Smoke. So much smoke. Red skies.

Max waved.

Chloe turned.

Her eyes, those fucking beautiful eyes, lighting up like stars.

Only...not at Max.

To Max's side, there she was.

Chloe's eyes were on Rachel.

Rachel. Rachel was waving. Beaming, radiant, shining.

So vivid, so real.

Max had to take a picture. Right?

It was Rachel. She was alive.

She was stunning.

No wonder Chloe had been so taken.

Rachel posed for Max, effortlessly. Such a smile.

-CLICK-

Rachel posed for Chloe, snuggled in bed, a ceiling of stars.

-CLICK-

Rachel posed for Frank, hands gripping the steering wheel, ready to ride.

-CLICK-

Rachel posed for Jefferson. Taped at the arms, filthy in the dark.

-CLICK-

Rachel posed for her adoring fans, bowing on stage. Hot lights.

Burning.

-CLICK-

Everything was burning.

Oak tree, tilted, flaming, roaring, consuming.

BLINDING.

Max was paralyzed by the mesmerizing sight of it.

Rachel stood beside her.

Max turned to face her.

Black bird on Rachel's shoulder.

A crow? Or…-

In its beak...something. Paper?

A VOICE spoke.

So vivid, clear. Like a memory.

A voice Max knew she didn't know.

Rachel's voice.

'We never actually escaped, did we?'

The bird tilted its beak to Max. Dropped a photo into Max's hands.

String of photographs. Photo booth. Rachel and Chloe.

Happy moments. Frozen in time. Happy, but just moments.
Memories were nice – but that was all they were.

Rachel gave Max a pleading expression, her eyes wet with tears, baggy and red.

Rachel pointed at Chloe's image, and spoke, her eyes spears against Max's mind.

'I don't even know if she's still in Arcadia Bay...But if she is, will you find her, please?'

Max nodded. She nodded so much.

'Chloe comes first,' said Max.

She looked back in her hand.

Photo of her and Chloe. Selfie from Chloe's bed. The week of their reunion.

Chloe's voice: 'like I'm some kind of problem to solve. Sometimes I am a problem, though.'

Rachel took Max's hand.

Rachel's voice: 'You're not a problem, Chloe. You're a person.'

The bird flew from Rachel's shoulders on a strong wind.

Max realized the fire was gone. Blackness.

Starry sky.

Only ashes left now. Blown by the wind.

Rachel was ashes now.

Max's hand was stained in ashes. Blown by the wind.

The fire had burned out. Bright, blinding, destructive, mesmerizing.

Gone.

Thunder rattled the sky.

The rain fell, calming Max.

Everything calmed down. Just rain. Sweet, soft, gentle rain and wind.

A small eternity of peace and calm.

Then Max woke up.

It was somehow jarring yet gentle, however she had just woken up.

She twisted to her side, by instinct, ready to greet her lover with a morning kiss to start her day.

But there was no one there.

For a moment, a sting pricked at her chest. Was she still dreaming? Had something gone wrong? Had she woken up in the wrong...-?

"Shit! Fuck..."

Chloe's cursing was muffled, but audible and recognizable. The scent of scrambled eggs was gentle, but rousing to Max's nose – though there was also the smell of something burning mixed in.

Max's vision was obscured by a mess of brown and red, that familiar, awful – oh. No, wait.

It was just her dual-colored hair having taken on a life of its own in her sleep – Chloe had come to rather enjoy it when Max wore her hair down for bed, but it could be a bit difficult at times. Heh. Well, maybe that was just living with Chloe in general: a bit difficult at times, but hella worth it.

Wiping hair from her face, Max took in a deep yawn, scratching at herself as she tossed the sheets off. Rubbing sand from her eyes, Max's brain caught up with the world around her, and in so doing, slipped into a brief bout of despair.

She had work to go to. For the first time since the incident, at that.

Back to reality, as it were.

And as exciting and relieving as that prospect had been a few days back, there were rough edges to facing that reality.

As she stumbled into kitchen in her pajamas, Max found herself momentarily paralyzed by the pleasure of watching Chloe wrestle with frying pan, trying to pull bits of eggshell from the rapidly frying eggs she'd broken. Max let herself linger in the doorway, soaking in her fiancé's grumbled cursing.

It was an ordinary moment, and after everything the two of them had been through, ordinary moments were what Max craved more than anything.

As Chloe seemed to have gotten over her frustration and removed the shell pieces from the pan, Max waddled up behind her, sliding her hands around Chloe's waist. As self-conscious as Chloe was about her 'beer belly,' Max just found it to be nice to cuddle with. Chloe was a Human, imperfections and all, but she was Max's favorite Human.

"Oh, hey," Chloe murmured in a cooing, soft voice, snuggling herself into Max's frame as she tossed scrambled eggs. "Morning."

"It is...that," Max mumbled groggily, pressing her chin into Chloe's shoulder.

"You sleep OK?"

"Mrrhh," eked Max, rubbing at her eyes. "I think that...thing happened again."

Chloe whimpered sympathetically.

"Sorry, Bebb," she sighed, nuzzling the back of her head against Max's face. "I, erh-...Not really sure how to turn that off."

"It's fine," Max assured, leaving the matter at that. Chloe was carrying those powers now, but she of course had so little practice using them that the Dreamweave had a way of…happening, without her consent. While it had been a bit scary at first, their dreams getting mixed together was happening less and less over time. In a way, Max was starting to miss it. Even if it was subconsciously, seeing parts of Chloe's life she could never know made her feel more connected, but simultaneously frustrated for having not been there during those days. It had ultimately spurred a lot of conversations about that gap of time while Max had bene in Seattle. And besides, it wasn't like the dreams they had shared were all bad, either.

"You sure you're all right? How're you feeling?" Chloe softly asked, leaning her cheek against Max's head.

Max sucked in a long breath through her nose, taking in the scent of Chloe's deodorant and cooking eggs. She exhaled.

"I'm OK," she decided.

"Mmfh," Chloe grunted sympathetically. "Any way I can...like, upgrade that? Maybe to a...'pretty good?' Or even solid 'good?'"

Max chuckled softly, nuzzling her nose against Chloe's neck and planting a kiss there. That kiss ended up sticking around, evolving into a nibble of sorts.

"Solid good?" Max taunted in a mischievous whisper. "You've got lotsa solid goods…"

"Oh," Chloe said, amused. As Max's hands got grabby, squeezing and pinching at Chloe's squishier parts, Chloe eked out some pleasantly surprised sounds – all the while cooking eggs, tossing in chunks of diced tomato and mushrooms.

The eggs started to burn again amidst the sounds of pleasant giggles and hums.
They'd turn out a little burnt, a little overcooked, but Max would still love them.

Chloe had to ease Max's grabby hands off of her a bit – and Max found herself a little self-conscious as to just how grabby she was being so early in the morning. That other side of herself, maybe, getting excited to just, like, touch Chloe, feel Chloe. It was nice to have that part of her feel connected to the rest of herself, even if it was taking a little time to accept without getting embarrassed. Still, it did make her wonder...

"What's up?" Chloe asked, switching off the stove-top as she scraped at the frying pan. Her brows etched her concern across her forehead. "That was nice just now, you know."

Chloe sure had gotten good over the years at picking up on Max's spacing-out and what it entailed.

"Huh? Y-yea, your 'morning grope,' pff. Sorry. I didn't mean to...get so...gropey."

"I mean, isn't that the point, though? I said it was nice," Chloe reminded, gently, with a smirk over her shoulder. Sliding browned scrambled eggs onto two plates, she added, "Drop the 'sorry's,' remember?" She kissed Max on the cheek, cautiously scooping bagels from their mini toaster oven. She facetiously added in a flat tone, lulling her head comically, "Ohhhh nooo, my fiancé is so attracted to me that she wants to touch me a lot." Her voice lowered into a gravelly groan, "How terrible and inconvenient."

Max chuckled bashfully in spite of herself as she retrieved the cream cheese from the fridge and got a butter knife.

"It is inconvenient when I make you burn breakfast," Max said wryly, beginning to spread the cream cheese on as Chloe went to wash the frying pan.

"It's just a little burned," Chloe scoffed playfully, scrubbing.

"It's pretty burned," Max prodded back, noting the blackened crusts of her bagel.

"Your face is pretty burned," Chloe taunted back.

Max's knife skidded to a stop as her head flashed with a warm, familiar face that brought her joy and pain in equal measure every time she saw it.

"But, your...mom is…-" Max eked out, her words damp with sorrow and dread.

"Huh?" Chloe turned off the sink.

"Nevermind." Max rubbed her thumb at her eyelashes before any tears could form, trying to re-center herself.

Setting the frying pan on the dish rack, Chloe processed what had just happened.

"Oh. Shit." She sighed, drying her hands. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking..."

"I'm the one who thought of it and was stupid enough to...-" Max trailed off, trying her best not to sigh, but taking a long, deep breath as she brought the plates to their tiny kitchen table. As Chloe warily approached, Max worked a shaky smile out. "Drop the 'sorry's,' remember?"

Chloe laughed weakly, running her hand across Max's cheek and rubbing her hip with the other hand. They kissed a couple times, their foreheads leaning against one another afterward. Max nuzzled her face against Chloe's neck, sniffing in the scent of recently applied cologne that Chloe liked to wear, combined with her terrible morning breath. It was so damned bizarre but neat how an incompatible, even unpleasant smell could make her feel good, relaxed, safe.

"It's OK, you know," said Chloe in a whisper, nibbling at Max's ear. "Feeling not OK? You don't have to hide it with me."

"I know," Max whispered back, letting her eyes close as the ear-nibbling consumed her senses.

"You don't want to go to work today," Chloe observed, wiping saliva off Max's earlobe with her thumb. "But you're ready to."

"I am ready to," Max sighed. "And I don't want to."

Their hands found their way against each other's hips, their glances mixing with each other like two colored paints forming a new shade.

"Don't push yourself too hard," said Chloe. "And I mean that, like...in general. I know you're still down on yourself because of the whole...Stella thing."

"Things'll be fine with Stella," Max mumbled, her head sagging to one side at the disappointment of it. Stella had needed space from, well...everything. And it was totally understandable. After what Max had put her through? She earned it, she needed it, Max got that. But it still hurt, not having her best friend around when things were finally supposed to be getting better.

"They will be fine," Chloe agreed. "Just let her come to you, OK?"

Max nodded, chewing on her lip a little.

"I just-...I'm sick of feeling like my whole life is on hold. Before it was...-" She gestured toward herself. "-...me, just, what a mess I was. Now, it's, like, my job, my friends, therapy, my photography, even fucking waiting to get married to you? Everything. It's all...in stasis."

"It ain't in 'stasis,' Bebb." Chloe ran her hand through Max's hair, straightening out her bed head a little. "Change takes time – metamorphosis takes time. Stuff's not, like, frozen, it's…like a loading screen. Shit's happening in the background, prepping, you just can't see it. Take your time, Maximus." She rubbed her thumbs against Max's neck, and Max felt paralyzed in the best kind of way.

"Guess I...-" Max ran her hand through sleep-greased hair, pushing it out of her eyes with a sigh. "-...got so used to time being on my side that I'm...feeling impatient now that it's not."

"Sooner or later, Batman has to head into retirement, go back to being Bruce Wayne, amirite?"

"Pff, maybe not the...best analogy," Max mumbled. "Bats and Bruce actually helped people...Plus, they're totally rich."

"Dude. You have hella helped people. Helped me, for damn sure. And others."

Max nodded groggily, grumbling, "Still not a good metaphor."

Chloe kissed Max on the cheek, saying, "'S all I got today, Maxie. Half-cooked metaphors and overcooked breakfast." Chloe eased Max to her seat, then went about pouring coffee for them both.

Rubbing sand from her eyes, Max said through a yawn, "Half-cooked life goals and overcooked metaphors are…-" The yawn needed a sec to take over. "-…my jam…" She blathered out a groggy noise, shaking her head a bit. The scent of coffee made her heart twitch a little. Probably her body reacting to the caffeine with excitement? Or was it the dread of going to work?

"It's been a shitty month," Chloe agreed, taking a bite of her eggs. "Aaand half-cooked things need to be...full-cooked. That's just where you're at right now, ya know? Hard-boiled Max-egg, still...hardening its boil. Or something."

Max's eyelids slid downwards a bit as she smirked at Chloe, who shrugged sheepishly.

"Half-cooked metaphors, indeed," Max teased.

"Tell ya what's not half-cooked, though," said Chloe, raising her brows slyly as she stabbed at her eggs with a fork. "Myyyy love fer you." She stuffed her face, beaming with puffed cheeks.

"So smooth," Max chuckled softly.

The duo shared a quiet, uneventful morning together, settling back into their routine – into each other. It wasn't in a way that suggested nothing had happened that autumn, but instead that everything had definitely happened, and they were ready to move forward.

Time was supposed to move forward, steadily.

Max Caulfield was finally back on that human axis, which meant that finally, at last, she could stop focusing on what had happened, or what could happen. She could stop being afraid, because her place in time – in reality – was right there, in the present, with Chloe Price.

Theoretical pasts and futures didn't matter anymore.

What would happen – with Chloe, the future they'd build together – was the wonderful mystery it was supposed to be.

–

Come and see
The light of day out in the open
It's like I'm waking from a dream

Many days since I have seen the end unfolding
Many times that I've looked back
On all the times that we have had

These colors seem never as warm
I feel a stiff breeze as we weather the Storm
And yet I let it all wash right over me
I close my eyes, and I see

This is the place to be

~ Campusanis, 'The Place to Be'

–

(Dream sequence directly based on Jenny's comic strip, over on her Tumblr, at Mollifiable)

–

Stressful. Exhausting. Frustrating.
Physically draining. Mentally taxing. Emotionally tiring.

Just like Max remembered it.

A job was a job, though, and this was hers. She'd tried to look for work during her time off, only to be thoroughly discouraged and disappointed by just how difficult it was to find anything worthwhile. Was it the economy? Was it overpopulation? Was it that she just sucked in the grand scheme of things? She couldn't even land an interview for anything she'd applied to, much less find work that was any better than this job, much less find anything she actually cared about or that was related to what she had a degree in.

"Mmmm-!" hummed Steph, halfway through sipping her smoothie through a straw. She swallowed, rotating the phone in her hand so Max could see it. "I really like this one, actually."

Max, recovering from her mind-meandering stupor, took note – Steph was showing her an Instagram upload of a photo Max had taken the other day. It depicted a zoomed shot of a snail on sidewalk, overcast sky, in the rain – at the bus station she'd often traverse to get to or from work. The snail was in a puddle, connected to a mirrored reflection of itself. The rain that morning had brought out a lot of snails, which had filled Max with a nice sense of tranquility. On her way back home from the grocery store, however, she'd...sadly noticed that some of the snails had been crushed by pedestrians.

Everything was temporary – even a photograph, filtered and uploaded to the web.

Everything was at risk of ending too soon – even an innocent creature's life, minding its own business.

Max was back to living life the way Humans did – as it came, one moment at a time.
No do-overs, no retries.

It was taking some adjusting, if she was being honest, but she was gradually working her way out of uncertainty and hesitation. Feeling as whole as she ever had in years had certainly been helping.

"Ah," said Steph awkwardly, noticing Max's sullen spacing out. "Sure you're feeling up to being here?"

Max swallowed and nodded, insisting, "Oh, n-no, I'm-…I'm fine, yea, it's just…-" She fussed with her hair, her insides twisting a little as her mind began to trip over errant worries.

"Still bummed about Stella, huh?" Steph pegged.

Max sighed and shrugged one shoulder, but then nodded half-heartedly. Steph administered a rough shoulder pat.

"Listen up, my dude – I saw her the night shit went down. She was there for you. It's rough right now – she needs space. Fuck, didn't you need space for a while, too?"

"True," Max conceded. "I-I dunno, I just-…When it comes to people, sometimes it's…-"

Complicated.

Even with how much Max had grown, how much better she was, everything wasn't magically perfect. Things with Chloe were amazing and good and great. But everything else was still a work-in-progress. She had the strength to get through it, now, certainly, but it was all still a process.

The door chime rang.

Steph's attention was diverted with an apologetic glance.
"Uh, well, I'll leave you to your thought bubble, then," Steph murmured, turning to the door. "Welcome!" she greeted with an elevated voice. "What can we get you tonight?"

The customer had an annoying voice. And an annoying face. And an annoying way of over-complicating Steph's job by interrupting her. And an annoying way of continuing to waste Steph's time even after Steph had handed the order to Max.

Max's words had been cut off, but her feelings continued to brew alongside the macchiato she was assigned to whip up.

Max was broken, right?
Still. Even now. Even when she had been put back together – in as much as she could be.
Still fucking broken, wasn't she?

[ I cannot understand these feelings anymore. ]

'Yes. You can.'

No. No, Max wasn't broken, not in the way she had feared.
She was Human.
She was alive.
She was stronger and wiser than she had ever been.
She had passed through the crossroads of her own destiny, and she had made her choice.
She had chosen to love.

So she wasn't broken anymore – but the cracks were still there.
Max just had to keep it together.
Let those wounds keep healing.
She wanted to keep it together.
Accept those scars they left behind.
She would keep it together.
And even if she somehow couldn't, Chloe was there, and that was all she really needed, at the end of things.

She had Chloe.
She has Chloe.
She was going to have Chloe.

How could she be so happy with what she had found and where she was going, but not feel happy?

Why could she not just feel it?

Why was she still anxious? Why was she still consumed with worry and doubt and want
Why did she still want anything else, when Chloe was enough? Did it make her selfish? Greedy? Was she-?
Fuck.

Max spilled a bit, hot droplets stinging at her hand like tiny needle pricks.

Luckily, their customer was too busy rattling Steph's ears off for either to notice.

Max needed to take a moment to find herself.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tuned everything else out for a few second.
She focused on the sound of rain battering the tarmac and sidewalk outside.
She focused on the smells of the coffee beans around her, and the steam cleansing her nostrils.
She thought of the scent of Chloe's cologne (and her morning breath), the feeling of nuzzling her face against Chloe's neck.

I'm not falling apart.
It's OK.
I am OK.

Having steadied her shaky hands, Max strode to the counter to deliver the order.

"-with all these hyper-liberals taking things over, this crap was bound to happen. People whining about the administration because they got so used to their crazy nonsense going unchecked. Everybody wants to be something they're not these days. It's all this friggin' social media, cell phones, n' crap. Everyone thinks they're some special little snowflake and can be whatever they want, everyone's some special color on a special rainbow. Well, fantacizing that you're someone you ain't doesn't get the bills paid. But America always bounces back, you know? We did it w-"
"Your drink's ready," Max interjected, sneaking her arm around Steph, whose face had glazed over.

"Mm," grunted the grouchy customer, taking the drink and sipping at it. Based on the expression, probably burned their tongue a bit. Good.

Max swiftly retreated back to the counter, making to look busy with cleaning it up and checking the levels of the machines as Steph continued to play nice as the customer rambled their way out.

The moment the door chimed and the customer was gone, Steph sighed through fluttering lips, rubbing her face tiredly.

"Well, that happened," Steph puffed to Max as she passed by, loud enough for Max to hear but quiet enough where no one else in the shop could.

It made Max think.
Her old self might've…well, decked the person, then undid it.
Or maybe just Rewound and wormed her way out of the entire conversation.
But it had happened. And Steph was clearly agitated by it having happened.
And Steph was OK. She was moving forward.
Max was OK. She would move forward.

It felt stupid to overanalyze such a minor moment, but those minor moments added up.
In Max's pursuit of weeding them out, she'd only ended up robbing herself of the practice of just…learning how to live with it all, like a Human.

The door chimed again, and while Max couldn't care any less, Steph seemed immediately curious. Out of the corner of her eye, Max noticed Steph smile and wave. Maybe Max should stop cowering at the counter and see who it was.

Her chest froze up when she noticed that it was Stella. Folding up her umbrella, Stella adjusted her opposing arm – a small wrapped present was tucked within. She was dressed in a padded white jacket with a woolly knit cap of orange and yellow covering her ears.

She hesitated as the door slowly closed behind her. Her eyes met Max's from across the shop. There was a weird warmth to them – a little angry, but also glad? It was quite hard to read.

Max wasn't prepared for dealing with this matter at that moment in time.
But it was the moment in time she had been presented.

"Yo," Steph greeted, startling both of them out of their worried spacing.

"H-hey, hi," Stella stammered, swallowing and clearing her throat as she approached the counter. Glancing around the shop, she noticed how quiet it was. "Um…Sl-…" She coughed, then sniffled. Aw, she sounded sick. Poor thing. "Slow day, huh?" she eked out sheepishly. She wiped her sleeve against her nose, and Max could see symptoms that she'd been out in the cold too long. Jeez.

"Yep," Steph grunted, leaning herself over the main counter on her elbows. "Yep, yep, slow damn day. Killin' me over here."

"Sucks," Stella replied simply, but with the expected amount of sympathy.`

"Time really drags when you're just waiting for it go by, huh?"

"Mm." Stella nodded after a moment of awkward glance-swapping with Max, who immediately broke eye contact.

With a cleaning rag in her hands, Max fiddled with the rag some, wiping a countertop she'd just cleaned.

"Um," Stella drummed her fingers against the present in her grasp, then fussed with her glasses. "Sh-should I place an order, or...-?"

Steph coyly leaned over the counter, quietly offering, "How about you just tell me what you want and I give it to you?"

Max already knew what Stella wanted: an off-menu item, 'Penguin in a Red Tux.' Regular Mocha with White Mocha (for when you couldn't decide between the two) with raspberry flavoring as a twist. Max went to work making one as the others spoke.

"Oh, n-no," Stella declined sheepishly. "I wouldn't...want to...impose."

"Dude," Steph flatly pushed. "It's been weeks since I've seen you, you look like shit – sorry – and you've done my minion here a solid–" Steph slapped Max's shoulder brusquely, nearly causing Max to spill syrup on herself. "-so just have a drink on me, OK?"

Stella nodded, wide-eyed. She sniffled and wiped her nose again, groaning under her breath.

"So?" Steph posed. "What'll it be?"

"I, um-...Heh. I think Max is...already...-"

"Oh." Steph twisted around, and Max just shrugged, nodding. "Tsh, that's the Max I know, remembering those details."

"Yea," Max murmured uncertainly, getting the drink together.

"Where's Scott?" Steph asked.

"Wh-Who?" Stella was toppled for a moment. "Oh, Brooke. She, um...-" Refuses to be in the same room as me? Max assumed."She's back at home," Stella cited. "Gaming marathon today, some event going on, I, uh...-" She shrugged.

"What brought you downtown, eh?" Steph prodded with a sly little wrinkle to her tone.

"Actually, I was...wondering if Max could take a break for a few minutes?"

Max was putting the finishing touches on the drink, keeping her head low, and Steph was all too eager to grab Max by the shoulders with some glee.

"Enh? See?" she whispered into Max's ear. "What'd I tell you?"

Max nodded nervously. Why the fuck was she nervous? This was her friend. This was her best friend. Like, besides Chloe, obviously. Why was she nervous? She knew Stella loved her, supported her, cared about her. Why did it feel like things were so weird and off and not right?

Sliding the cup of coffee across the counter to Stella, Max tried to speak.

"Is...-?" Max began, trying to keep up appearances. "Is everything OK?"

Stella's lips opened for a moment. A long moment.

"I-...W-well, yea, I just...needed to talk, I mean, it's been a while and...-"

"I just thought you...-" Max lowered her voice, sliding the cup a little further when Stella didn't retrieve it. "You said you needed space, and I already knew I fucked up, so, like...-"

"Let's just talk for a bit," Stella sighed, that familiar tinge of disappointment lacing her lips.

Max turned to Steph, who shrugged, tipped her head upward, and flicked out a wrist.

"Sure," Max replied, adjusting her uniform's visor as she wandered around the counter.

Stella awkwardly tried to wrestle with her own hands – one holding an umbrella, the other a wrapped gift – to pick up her cup of coffee, but Max ended up escorting it to a table at the corner of the cafe.

Stella set the flat, small present down, pushing it across the table. She sniffled, sipped at her hot drink, and coughed a little.

Max gawked at the gift.

"I, um, I know it's early for the holidays," said Stella. "But...I just wanted to give it to you early. Might as well, right? I'm not really a fan of surprises, anyway."

Max smiled a little and nodded, recalling the many instances in which Stella had argued about the lack of value in the cultural concept of 'surprise.'

She opened the present, trying at first to cautiously unfold the wrapping, only to take out her house key and tear it open when the tape proved too tough.

It was a music CD.

[ Steven Universe]
[ Volume 1 ]

Cute. Max had been meaning to get it sooner or later, but coming from Stella seemed fitting.

"You know what I love about that album's title?" Stella posed, with that coy little wrinkle to her smile Max knew too well – across realities, even.

"I, uh, I don't," Max admitted, her gaze caught in Stella's nervous smile. It just…felt good to be assured that despite everything, Stella was still Stella, and her best friend wasn't going anywhere, even after everything Max had put her through. Noticing the awkward pause between them, Max mumbled, "Whhh-…What do you like about the title?"

"'Volume 1,'" Stella recited, glancing down at the album case. "The title itself implies that it's not all there is or will be. There's more to come. I mean, right? Maybe it takes a lot of work to get it together, but...things continue."

Stella took a sip of her drink, and Max managed to gather the courage to look her square in the eyes.

Max murmured bashfully, "We, um-...We're talking about more than just music, aren't we?"

Stella smirked and nodded, her eyes wrinkling warmly.

"We are," she confirmed. "I've been putting off telling you, because I know how much you've been through lately, but...-" Stella paused, drumming her fingers along her coffee cup. "I still need more time. I don't want you to feel like I'm ditching you, I'm not. But helping you work through all of this...crazy shit you've had to deal with? It's set me back on things in my own life. And the fact is, as much as I know you want to help me, when it comes to the stuff with my family, with my own personal things...you can't really do anything to help."

"So...-" Max's chest felt pricked with rejection. "I'm most useful to you when I'm...not around?"

"No, no, it's not-...It's not like that, exactly, I mean, you're, like, super important to me. Chloe is important to me, too. You already have helped me in the ways you could. And when you two tie the knot, I am going to be there, one hundred percent. I'm not just going to vanish out of your life. I know you've gotten used to losing people – whether in this life, or, well...-" She shrugged, cautiously glancing around the cafe. "-...in your other one. I'm always going to be here for you. We still have a lot of good times ahead of us, I know we do. You can't save everyone, Max – you can't fix everything. I've been focusing so much on you, on Chloe, that I've neglected my own problems. I just wanted to talk with you and, like, try to explain that."

"It's OK," Max said, trying to save face. It hurt a little, not knowing exactly how things would play out. But that was how reality was supposed to work, she'd just gotten used to not having to face that. "I understand," she lied. Bleh. Slipping back into her old lying habits again? "I mean, I don't understand," Max corrected, rubbing her hand across her head. "But I accept it."

"You try to understand," said Stella, getting up from her chair. "That's what matters."

"I miss you," Max sighed, letting her grief slip a little as she knew their time together was waning. "And I love you. N-not like-...I mean, I...-"

"I know," said Stella, giving Max a brief, one-armed hug. "I miss you, and I love you, too. And I'm not leaving you, or Chloe." She scooped back up her umbrella. "These things just take time, Max."

Max nodded, and their shared tired but hopeful smiles.

"Yea," Max acknowledged. She widened her smile. "Some things are worth the time."

Stella's eyes narrowed warmly and she nodded in reply.

"Meanwhile? You take care, Max."

"You, too, Stella."

Stella approached the glass door to the rainy, dark outside world. Leaning against the doorway with her hip to push it open, she popped open her umbrella, waving back to Max, who timidly waved her farewell – for now. While Max and Chloe had their own literal and metaphorical storms to deal with, it was easy to forget that everyone in Max's life had their own stories, their own storms, their own struggles. She couldn't be at the center of everything.

"I'll catch you on the other side, Max."

–

Vic gawked, eyes wide, brow lifted, jaw agape.

"Well?" Chloe grunted disparagingly, adjusting the article before her and glancing down at herself. "Is it…-? Is it too 'wenchy?'" She swallowed, then flatly concluded, "It's too 'wenchy.'"

"N-no, no, it's…fine," Vic spat. Slowly. And with some hesitation.

With a sigh, Chloe set the dress she'd been holding on the table beside her.

The pair of them both took a sip from their wine glasses, continuing to ponder the dress. The wedding was coming up pretty soon. They didn't have time for alterations. The dresses for the ceremony were all set in place, but...this was supposed to be a surprise: pirate-themed getups for the reception party. Chloe was worried she was mucking it up, though. What if Max didn't like it?

One hand on her hip, Chloe's other hand was sliding her wine around in circles within the glass.

"What about Max's duds?" Chloe wondered.

Fuck. 'Duds?' Vic probably thought she was an idiot.

Vic snort-giggled slightly, immediately covering up her wine-pinkened face.
"Uh, yeaaaa, her…duds. They're, uh…-" Vic cocked her head to one side at the elaborate suit on the table. A proper Captain's outfit. Chloe wryly smirked as she watched Vic dress Max with her mind's eye (or whatever). "I think I actually like it," Vic admitted, surprised with herself. Tapping a fingertail against her wine glass, she noted, "I mean…-" A soft chuckle. "It's dorky as fuck, but…-" A thoughtful nod, and a solemn tone, "It suits her somehow."

"Right?" Chloe agreed gently, nodding in agreement as they both.

"That dress isn't you, though," Vic offered her criticism. "And, like, the other outfit's cute, in a…trying-to-look-nautical kind of way?" She took a swig. "But it makes it appear like there's this…-" Her face wrinkled. "-…subservience thing going on. Like you answer to her. You know? Like…she owns you."

"Like I'm her bitch," Chloe blurted out, to which they both laughed, then sighed in unison.

It was a melancholic sigh, followed by more silent sips of wine.

"You're not, though," Vic stated, pouring herself a second glass.

"Mm," Chloe hummed with a certain sense of uncertainty. Not at what Victoria had said, but more that someone who knew them less closely might interpret things that way.

"It's not like it was with you an'…-" Vic trailed off, shrugging up a shoulder.

"You can just say it," Chloe clarified gently. They swapped glazed looked briefly, then Vic gestured Chloe to hand over her own emptied glass.

"With you and Rachel…-" Victoria explained softly, carefully, pouring Chloe a second helping of wine. "Well, it was a very different dynamic. One of you was clearly 'in charge.' Especially from what you've told me at this point. And believe me, we were all…uh…-"

Victoria's face flashed with guilt.

"Blinded?" Chloe finished the thought with a certain bitterness.

"Y-yes. Mm-hm." Vic nodded hastily, handing Chloe back the glass, now full of booze once again.

They paused to contemplate. They both sipped.

"I'm sorry for what he did. What-...What they did."

Chloe was confused.

"Nathan, I mean. And Rachel," Vic clarified. "When something dark – something tragic – happens to a person? Someone you really cared about...-" She trailed off, shaking her head. "Maybe it makes me a bitch to say it, but just because someone died before their time, it...doesn't make how they hurt us just...go away. It doesn't...make them an angel, just because they're not with us anymore. And, like, I'm sure Rachel did good by you? But she clearly did bad, too. For as shitty a person as Nathan could be, he did do good – for me, anyway. But that shouldn't take away from the pain he caused. What he did can't be excused. Explained, sure. We can both blame ourselves for another five fucking years if we want to, but...it doesn't change how they made choices for themselves. We can't keep these people on pedestals just because we couldn't…keep them in the first place."

A heavy pause hung over them.

"I think...-" Chloe started, her throat catching as a pulse of emotion swept over her. She inhaled, then exhaled carefully, re-steadying herself. That remark hit her a bit harder than she would've like. "Y-yea, I mean-...Yea."

They both sipped.

"What Nathan did?" Vic went on. "He was troubled, he didn't deserve what happened to him. Neither did Rachel, right?" Chloe shook her head to this. "Rachel was also troubled, right?" Vic checked, her head lulling expectantly.

Glass bottles smashed. An entire table, shattered. An entire forest, ablaze. A fucking two-by-four to that asshole's head.

"Yea," Chloe nodded solemnly.

The cracks had widened, the longer Chloe had known Rachel. They had with Max, too. The difference was that after Rachel, and because of Max, Chloe had been equipped to move forward, to confront things, to help seal those cracks, or at least close them together.

"But they both still chose how they acted," Victoria pointed out. "They both chose to hurt people. Even if they didn't realize it at the time, they had to have, somewhere down the line. And we've been trying to, like...idealize their good sides? But if we really want to honor their memory, shouldn't we maybe...move on? Why can't we let them exist as complete people – with the good and bad that comes with that. Even if we never fully understood them, they were complete people."

"I, um...-" Chloe cleared her throat, then shrugged. Vic was ranting about something real for once. Chloe was too fascinated – and too stricken – to interrupt.

Victoria nodded thoughtfully. They both sipped.

Chloe tried to speak again.

"Ya know, looking back? For the longest fuckin' time, it was like...I was Rachel's prisoner. N-not, like, in this intentional way, but-…"

'Thy liberty? Nay! This most of all I will not grant.'

Chloe cleared her throat on the memory of that magical night – like a spell that had been broken somewhere along the way.

"It was like I got so caught up in being strung along by her, I-…I guess I forgot what being my own person felt like. I built this entire identity around what she saw in me, what she wanted me to become, until I just…-" She sighed, shaking her head.

Victoria nodded emphatically.

"Mark Jefferson didn't intend to hold me prisoner – until he literally fucking did."

Chloe was startled by that remark, her train of thought derailed.

They both sipped, and Vic went on.

"I saw in Mark what I wanted to see – what he wanted me to see. Same thing with Rachel. And Nathan? He was pushed into trying to be what he wasn't. I'm willing to bet Rachel was, as well. I guess maybe that's why it pisses me off so much when I see Max even starting that shit – lying, putting on an act, playing along when she doesn't even know what's going on..."

"She's supposed to be better than that, right?" Chloe mused, shaking her head with amusement. "But she's not – none of us are. And that's...fine. Really. Rather that than wearing a mask."

"I'd say striving for improvement isn't exactly a bad pursuit," Vic raised. "But, well-...We do all have our vices. Best to be practical and allow for some of that inevitability."

Chloe was reminded of throwing up in a parking lot the night Max overdosed. Victoria lashing into her – deserved. Vices could squeeze a bit, but when things started cracking? Breaking? They needed to be checked. Before they, um, wrecked. Fucking A, Chloe.

"Back when we – when Max and I - we first got together," Chloe brought up, "we were, like, way wracked with guilt, n' everything. That crazy week with Jeffershit, Rachel, Kate, the Storm, all that business – we fell for each other that week. Hard. It was crazy, being together again after all that time, and things were just different between us. But, 'cuz of all the crazy crap that week, we kept tryin' to...deny it, push it away, postpone it...Like it was a vice." Chloe swirled her wine in her glass. "Like...an addiction. To each other." She sniffed dryly, taking a sip. She sighed out, "Guess it is, sorta. But then, fuckin'...oxygen's an addiction if you wanna look at it that way."

"You had the freedom to choose to be with each other. You know, I'm honestly envious you two were able to make that first step when you did. Maybe if I'd had that kind of...boldness, I would've...-" She trailed off, her eyes glazing over. She shook her head, her lips pursing as she drowned whatever errant thought she'd had in wine. She shrugged, concluding, "It sounds to me like you and Max enabled in each other a...certain kind of freedom."

"To not give a fuck?" Chloe guessed with a shrug, knowing she'd learned how to do that from Rachel.

"No," said Victoria. "To give a fuck. To act on it."

Oh. Well, yea. That one she'd definitely picked up from Max.

"I mean," Vic added, "it takes a certain kind of freedom to let yourself act on feelings like that, doesn't it?"

"Certain kind of liberty," Chloe cited, her throat catching a little at the bitter memory. "Yea. She does. Enable that – my liberty. Back at Blackwell, never felt like I had any – even during my best moments. I was always...trapped, somehow, someway...by someone. Max changed all that. We had our rough patch, and...we worked through it. Now, I feel freer than I ever was."

Smirking, Chloe held her glass out – Vic caught on and they toasted glasses together.

"Here's to liberty, I guess," Chloe said.

"Here's to liberty," Vic agreed.

They both drank to that.

Max did not see the point in dressing up so soon. Wasn't that what rehearsal dinners were for? And why was Chloe being so pushy? Having Max get changed in a separate room, and everything?

That being said, it did feel pretty nice – the suit. The uniform? It was tip-top. When Max looked at herself in the mirror, she was pleased. A proper Captain's uniform. Nice hat, too. She felt so nice and slick and...together.

And it was that very sensation that caught her off guard.

Max had spent so much time – outside of time – looking at herself through such dirty, unfocused lens. Embittered and angry.

For the first time in as long as she could remember, she looked into a mirror, saw herself, and was pleased.

Despite everything…

"After five years, you're still Max Caulfield."

Max was warmed by Chloe's words – catching Chloe's expression through the mirror, Max saw how fuzzy and googly-eyed Chloe was, only to take note that Chloe was, herself, wearing a blue pirate captain suit to match Max's red one.

"It really has been five years, hasn't it?" Max reflected with a sigh, buckling the buttons on her uniform. They were running late on their anniversary by a month and change, but still. "I've finally...made up for all that time I wasn't there for you."

Max swallowed a lump in her throat as her cheeks burned up. She occupied her hands with her hair and feathered hat.

Chloe slunk in behind her and entwined their fingers through each other.

"Max, you made up for that within a week of being back in my life," Chloe assured softly. "And there's reasons for that. Reasons we've gotten this far with this whole 'us' thing. You know?" She kissed Max's cheek. "Maybe in other lives we could've...been happy with other people, but...-" She sighed peacefully, rubbing her thumb against Max's wrist as they stared at each other through the mirror's glass. "I mean, fuck, Maxine – I'm just glad I'm living this life in this reality, with you."

"Me, too," Max assured, her eyes starting to dampen as her cheeks grew warmer.

Chloe's hand wriggled its way out of Max's grasp and against her behind, giving it a nice 'inspection,' all the while admiring Max's attire.

"I do like you in uniform," Chloe said in a quiet, giddy fashion, teeth bared in a grin. "How's it feel?"

Max straightened Chloe's tie, unbuttoned the top button of Chloe's blouse, and rubbed her palm against Chloe's neck, surveying her co-captain.

"Like a dream," Max cheekily replied, nuzzling noses with her love, to which Chloe giggled sheepishly, softly.

"Just be glad I'm compromising with you," Chloe noted. "Dresses at the ceremony – uniforms for the reception."

"Is it still a compromise if we both get what we want?" Max posed coyly.

"Good call," Chloe replied.

They made dorky, red-cheeked looks at each other a little more before giving in to what they couldn't help.

A make-out session later – and consequently, a quick re-grooming to follow it up – and Chloe escorted Max to their living room, which had been temporarily re-purposed to serve as a hella cheesy, candle-lit dinner. On their couch.

Chloe pulled out her phone.

"All right, Cap'n," Chloe said, scrolling on her device. "Some swashbuckling music, is it?"

"Yrghhh," Max growled, attempting to be...pirate like?

Chloe burst out a chuckle. "Yarghh!" she bellowed.

"I love the outfits," said Max, "but...I'm not really in a...pirate-y state of mind right now."

"So, something sentimental, then," Chloe concluded, swiping and tapping at her phone.

"Yea, that...would be nice."

"You got it, Max."

And so, Chloe set a song playing on her phone – the one she had played from the previous year's anniversary. It warmed Max's nostalgic heart.

After acclimating to the change of mood, Max realized that the setup on their coffee table was familiar.

The menu?

Macaroni and cheese. With a side of...scrambled eggs? Coffee mugs with...coffee. And a bottle of whiskey? What?

Chloe wasn't exactly a gourmet chef. It was the thought that counted, but...still...

Wait...-

As she watched Chloe drizzle some whiskey into their coffee mugs – gesturing like a waiter pouring glasses of wine – the scents of the meal brought hazy memories to the fold.

Brows furrowed as she sat herself down, Max pointed at the coffee table of food.

"This...-" she began, to which Chloe nodded.

"I mean," Chloe clarified, "The mac-in-cheese is because you've let me off the hook with that whole 'max-and-cheese' biz. Remember that?"

"Oh-my-gawd, I do," Max snort-giggled, palm on her face. "How have I not teased you about that more often?"

"Consider the reminder a pre-wedding present, courtesy of your mom."

"Pff."

"She even cooked it for me last night because when I tried to it came out runny as diarrhea."

"Yum," Max said, tight-lipped. "Nice pre-dinner chatter."

"You know me," said Chloe.

Their eyes locked as the music hit its chorus, and the two of them sang it together.

'Everything stays
Right where you left it
Everything stays
But it still changes

Ever so slightly
Daily and nightly
In little ways
When everything stays'

Chloe knew Max too well – it really hit her in the gut in the best of ways. After all those years, they had changed, bit by bit, piece by piece, and yet being together still felt so similar to how it had when they'd been kids. Comfortable, safe, always oddly exciting with the prospect of just being them, together.

"So, yea," Chloe rolled along, smiling stupidly. "Re-heated macaroni, Irish coffee, and the one goddamn thing I know to cook halfway decent."

"Eggs again, huh?" Max taunted.

"I mean...besides that, what else am I really capable of cooking besides fuckin' eggs, eh?" Chloe took a sip of her booze-laced coffee and grunted pleasantly. "It's not exact, but...this is as close as I could remember to what we had that morning – when we started dating."

Max sniffed the hard coffee, its vapors pricking at her nose in a an oddly comforting way. She took a sip, and it burned a little.

Coughing in recovery, she pointed out, "Didn't we have orange juice, too?"

"Did we?" Chloe pondered.

"We did," Max insisted, her memory coming together fuzzily.

Chloe shrugged, citing, "Outta OJ, Bebb, sorry."

Max sighed through her nose pleasantly, but a little wistfully. She'd kind of been hoping that with all of her sneaking around, this anniversary dinner would've been...more special.

"Well, we can't win every anniversary," Max said warmly, swapping glowing glances with her very-soon-to-be wife.

Chloe shook her head slightly, her eyes widening with mock disagreement.

"Dunno what you're talkin' about, Max – every anniversary is a win for me. An epic win."

"Oh?" Max took the bait.

There was a pregnant pause of looks.

Chloe finally concluded, "I get to spend another year with the love of my fucking life. Maybe I suck at the 'celebrating' part but...-" She stirred ketchup into her eggs. "I sure as hell don't suck at the 'appreciating' part."

They took bites of their macaroni – oh, damn, Mom had improved her recipe. Day-old, re-heated macaroni had no business tasting that good. Even the eggs tasted better than usual. Maybe Chloe wasn't as original as all that, but it was the thought that counted.

"A-anyway," Chloe said, observing Max's silence. "Sorry it's kinda half-assed, here. It's been...a bit of a time lately."

"No, no, it's fine," Max insisted. "It's cute."

"I just, um-...I think back on that morning, right? Can't remember what the hell I even said to convince you back then, but I'm glad I did."

Max nodded. "Yea. Me, too."

"I know this life we've tried to start...-" Chloe cleared her throat with a sip of her coffee. "Look, I just-...I feel bad that I'm not good at the, like...adulting shit. Never have been."

Max extended her hand across Chloe's lap, palm raised, and Chloe accepted it.

Chloe added, "You make me so happy, Max. Just...existing. Just this. I lose sight of the practical shit because I'm just, like, content. Here, with you, it's all I need, really."

Max nodded, rubbing her fingers up and down Chloe's palm as she leaned sideways into her love.

"You make me happy, too, Chloe. More than anything else. 'Existing' became...kind of a difficult thing for me to figure out for a while, there. But you brought me back."

"Hey, Bebb, just returning the favor. Trying to, anyway."

"W-well, yea, that's...part of what I love about us, Chloe: we try. We, like, inspire each other to try. I don't expect our lives to magically become some happily-ever-after. I mean, if they had done that way back when, we wouldn't even be together. All of this bullshit we've had to get through? Just to stay together? All of the 'trying' we've done for each other?"

Max lifted Chloe's hand a bit and kissed Chloe on the wrist.

"Being with you is worth it," Max assured quietly. "To me."

Chloe smiled like a fool, consequently leaning in toward Max.

"To you, then," Chloe whispered cheekily, kissing Max on the lips. "But, uh, also to me."

They resumed their eating positions on the couch, and nibbled a bit at their food.

"I love you." Chloe raised her mug of coffee and whiskey, mixed together.

"I love you, too." Max toasted in reciprocation.

They tried to eat their home-cooked meal without event, but before they knew it, pirate hats were ditched to the floor, and eventually, so were the uniforms.

–

It wasn't perfect.

But it still felt perfect, somehow.

Everyone in the wedding party had shown up. Even Justin had arrived on time, by some crazy miracle. Brooke's dress had experienced a bit of a wardrobe malfunction an hour before the ceremony, but Steph's sharp wits had managed to salvage things. Victoria was doing double duty as a Bridesmaid and photographer for the whole thing. Max would steal the camera now and again, and Chloe adored seeing her love finally allow herself to slip into her photography again. Stella had kept their rings safe and sound – they were just going to re-use their engagement rings. And seeing Stells saunter on down the aisle with that glowing smile of hers – a smile that had more of an understanding than anyone else what the happy couple had been through to get to that very moment – it was reassuring. Off-script, Stells had pulled them both in for a hug, and had instigated the whole wedding party to follow suit. It had thrown off the pacing of the ceremony, sure. An imperfection in their schedule, and yet it had felt perfect.

Chloe had been certain she wouldn't cry. Even standing there, on that cliff beside the bay – beside the remains of the lighthouse and the memorials related thereto – Chloe didn't cry. It wasn't that there was no sorrow, but rather, that there was finally enough joy to eclipse it, after all these years.

Joyce – Mom – she'd started crying, though, when the group hug had happened. Chloe had never seen Mom so...happy. Not even when she'd gotten married herself. That single moment – a single expression from her Mom – had a funny way of filling in a hole in Chloe's heart that she had never seemed able to fill until precisely that moment.

Their matching purple dresses amid red-and-blue themed décor was a bit non-traditional, but it said exactly what it needed to.

The pair had exchanged vows – keeping things brief and to the point. Their lives had been complicated enough. Their love for each other wasn't.

The whole shebang was done and over before Chloe had time to process it.

It was that simple, really. When she'd found someone she just worked with so well, it was pretty damned simple.

The case of the Missing Girl, the Dark Room, the Storm, the Other Side...

Despite everything...
Chloe was still with Max.
Max was still with Chloe.

This was the thought that entered Chloe's mind when it was time to kiss at the alter – when Max had whipped out that instant camera from their reunion, years ago, and taken a goofy as hell selfie to commemorate the moment of their marriage.

And in the glowing, camera-flashed moments to follow – in the rush of escaping down the aisle together – another thought stuck to Chloe.

'We're both better than we once were. With – because – of each other.'

And Chloe got to keep holding onto that thought as they whisked themselves down to the beach for the reception. They utilized the changing tent – finally quiet and still – and helped each other get equipped with their regal pirate uniforms.

It took every ounce of willpower to not just start making out and getting down to 'bidness' right there and then, in the naked transition between outfits, but they had managed. There'd be plenty of time for that later.

OK.

So they did make out a bit, after they'd gotten in uniform. Just a little. For like ten minutes.

It was their day, they could do whatever they wanted.

The dinner was nice. Their wedding wasn't huge – kind of small, actually – but that made it cozy, and comfortable, and intimate. People had taken their turns offering speeches. Crying happy tears. But, upon request, everyone had kept things short, and Max and Chloe themselves hadn't offered toasts to each other.

They both knew what was up.

They both knew how they'd gotten to where they were. How they'd held on. How they'd endured.

They didn't need to tell each other how they felt, because after everything? They knew.

So, when pestered by relatives to 'Speech, speech, speech,' they had this to say:

Chloe had roared out, "I fucking love my wife!" and promptly passed the mic to Max.

"What she said," Max had concurred, dropping the mic into the sand before grabbing Chloe and kissing her in front of the crowd, who'd had a nice laugh.

Assuming their position on the temporary dance floor, Max glanced to Steph, who was on DJ duties, and gave the woman a thumbs up. With an excited grin and a 'Whoop-whoop!' Steph got their first-dance music playing.

Max wrapped her hands around Chloe's shoulders.
Chloe rested her hands against Max's hips.

A gentle piano started trickling across the reception, hushing everything to a lull.

This wasn't the song Chloe had been expecting.

"You swapped the song out, didn't you?" Chloe whispered, starting to slow-dance. Awkwardly.

Max tilted her head down, looking up at Chloe with a coy 'come hither'. They hadn't found their rhythm yet. But they would. They always did.

"She'll play the other song after," Max teased, beginning to sway her hips against Chloe's grips.

"Is this...-?" Chloe began to recognize it. "This is from...-" And Max nodded, her sheepish smile so goddamn adorable.

Chloe had heard it so many times, come to think. Just...in pieces. Parts.

Now, she could hear it in a unified whole.

Max shrugged sheepishly, citing, "I guess a part of me can't let go of seeing us in the things we enjoy." Her eyes slid up and around bashfully. "Aaaaand, ya know, using someone else's story to explain how much I fucking love my wife."

"Fair enough," Chloe decided. Her brain snapped. "Oh, shit. I am your wife."

"Fucking finally," Max snickered, pressing her forehead against Chloe's. "And I'm your wife."

"Co-captains of a whole new ship."

"On a whole new sea."

They let the song play, dancing in slow circles all the while.

'If I could begin to be
half of what you think of me
I could do about anything
I could even learn how to love'

The waves of Arcadia Bay lapped against the nearby shore.

In, then out.
In, then out.

Like the universe itself – the very thing that had tried so hard to keep them apart – breathing its sighs of relief.

'When I see the way you act
Wondering when I'm coming back
I could do about anything
I could even learn how to love
like you'

Max dwelt on the pain of existing across two realities – wondering, waiting, hoping to finally find happiness with the woman in her arms.

Chloe had inspired her to love, but just as importantly, to act on that love. Even if it meant crossing time and space.

'Love like you'

Max rested her hands against Chloe's hips.
Chloe wrapped her hands around Max's shoulders.

'I always thought I might be bad
Now I'm sure that it's true
'Cause I think you're so good
And I'm nothing like you'

Chloe was crying – goddamnit.

She'd fucked her life up so much, in so many ways.

And Max still loved her, all the same.

Max took her hands off Chloe's hips.
Chloe took her hands off Max's shoulders.

They held hands and swayed to and fro, continuing to spin in slow circles.

'Look at you go
I just adore you
I wish that I knew
What makes you think I'm so special?'

Max didn't know how she'd gotten her powers, or why.

And just as much of a mystery was how and why Chloe had known, had seen, way back then, whatever she had seen in Max.

But she adored Chloe so much.

'If I could begin to do
Something that does right by you
I would do about anything
I would even learn how to love'

Letting go of what she'd lost – who she'd lost – and even accepting the burden of power that had saved her own life in the first place.

Most importantly, though, Chloe had done the one thing that, in Max's absence, she'd never truly believed she was capable of doing.

She'd confronted her own fears instead of running away from them.

'When I see the way you look
Shaken by how long it took
I could do about anything
I could even learn how to love like you'

Swaying in circles, like the rest of the world didn't exist – like they existed within a reality of their own creation – Max was enraptured by the glow of Chloe's face, by the warmth of their hands within each other's grasp.

Chloe had the power to relive it – the entire ceremony – if she'd wanted to.

'Love like you'

And she did want to.

'Love me like you'

And she would. In her mind. In her heart. For the rest of her life.

The sea breeze washed over them.

Sitting upon the Marsh Memorial Bench – the same spot where they had confronted the Storm – Max and Chloe were enjoying the final piece of their wedding night together, on New Year's Eve. As fitting a time as any to get hitched, Max had figured.

Just them, an umbrella at the ready, and the wide open sea.

The sun had set a while back. It was late – almost midnight. The sky was full of rainclouds. The scent of incoming rain hung heavy in the air.

In the dark, in the rain, in the wind, Max was checking her camera. After months, she'd finally gotten the nerve to take photos again. During and after the reception, she'd gotten back into taking photos. And Chloe had even played some guitar for everyone – 'Home' was as fitting a song as Max could think of.

"You have a good time?" Chloe checked. "It wasn't much, but...-"

"It was exactly what I wanted," Max insisted, scrolling through her camera's fresh batch of photos. "Being back in Arcadia, with everyone, it was nice. Seeing everyone happy back here, like it used to be..."

"Heh. Still can't shake off the nostalgic side, huh?"

Max snuggled herself into Chloe's side.

"Hard to," Max said with a pleasant hum, "when I've got so many nice memories with you now."

"So smooth," Chloe teased.

They kissed a bit, and by the time they were down, their umbrella was being tapped by gentle drops.

Max put her camera away in her bag, tucking it beneath the bench before losing herself in Chloe's warmth again.

A relaxing rainfall enveloped their senses, gradually picking up in its intensity, yet staying gentle enough to

Their bodies enveloped each other, and Chloe pulled the umbrella down to keep them shielded in a little bubble of comforting sound.

Co-captains, setting sail on a ship, on a new sea, toward a new destination.

"You know," said Chloe, nuzzling her cheek against Max's neck. "I know I keep saying how I don't really believe in 'forever,' but...Max. Maxie. Maximil. With you? I'm totally pumped to see how close we can get."

"So am I," Max agreed, sighing into Chloe's chest. The way Chloe's heartbeat blended together with the wind and rainfall was quite the song.

"Oh, shit," Chloe said after a moment. Keeping her phone tucked within the umbrella, she cited, "We missed it."

"What?" Max saw the timer.

[ 12:01am ]

"Whoops," Max shrugged it off.

"Whoops?" Chloe balked. "Dude, it's the new year, gurl. I've never seen you this...unexcited about New Year's."

Max shrugged, squeezing Chloe tightly.

"I already had my fresh start earlier today," she explained. "The last one I think I'll ever need."

Chloe chuckled softly, kissing Max on the forehead.

"Hey, um...-" Chloe, still levelling her phone before them beneath the umbrella, swiped over to her camera. "If we're starting off fresh...-"

Chloe took a selfie of the two of them, cheeks red from the cold, faces squished together.

It was far from a perfect photo finish to their evening.

But it felt perfect.

"Happy New Year, Max."

"Happy New Year."

"I love you."

"Love you, too."

'I've always wanted my life to be special, an adventure. But not without you.'

–

With whatever I have done
You're not the only one
We'll face the world as what we've become

And whatever I may do
By choice, I'll be with you

And we'll live with scars
Forever, together
Together

~ Riley Hawke, 'Overexposed'

–

"Hearts live by being wounded."

~ Oscar Wilde

–