Disclaimer: I don't own Life is Strange.

A/N: Ahh, I'm sorry this is so late! I was ill for more than a week, and I've busy with job applications too, so I (ironically) didn't have much time to work on this fic. I hope you enjoy despite the lateness (again).

We Are Forged In Fire (We Will Never Fall)

Chapter Five: The Shape of Things to Come

"I can't believe we're sneaking into the boys' dormitories to comfort Nathan fucking Prescott of all people…" Chloe grumbles under her breath as they make their way quietly downstairs.

"Well, it's for mine and Warren's benefit too, if that makes you feel any better," Max points out distractedly. Most of her concentration is currently taken up by running through the repeating patterns of one of Dr Williams' calming exercises, trying to simultaneously settle her own emotional state and gain a little distance from the newly formed bond with Nathan.

"That's the only reason I'm on board with this shitty plan," Chloe huffs. Max knows she feels at least a little sympathy for the amount of terror Nathan is suffering, but it's largely overshadowed by her own feelings towards him, in addition to the fact she seems bizarrely offended by the idea that he has an empathic bond with Max too.

They make it downstairs and Warren's waiting to let them into the male half of the dorms. He looks a little worse for wear, his expression somewhere between shell-shocked and freaked out. "I'm so glad you guys are here," he says, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "How do you deal with this all the time?"

"You've had a pretty shitty introduction to the subject," Max admits. "But essentially, practise. A lot of empathic bonds form because of trauma or emotional upheaval though on the part of one or both soulmates –"

"Including ours technically," Chloe cuts in as they start climbing the stairs. "That was the cherry on the shit sundae of that particular day."

Max grimaces a little. "True." She catches Warren's confused look and explains, "Our bond was triggered when Chloe got the news of her dad's death. We both saw a doctor afterwards, one that specialised in empathic bonds, because of the problems that can come about because of them. Not least of which is something called 'the bounce effect', which sounds way cuter than it actually is. It's basically caused by negative emotions being bounced back and forth along the bond, with the emotion being strengthened and amplified by each successive pass. It kinda creates a vicious cycle and it can only be broken if one or both of the soulmates makes an effort to bring their emotions under control – and to that effect, we were taught calming exercises by our doctors, ways to draw our focus back to our own minds and emotions, to regulate and try to distance ourselves from the bond a little."

Max pauses, catching the anxious expression on Warren's face. "Don't worry, Warren," she encourages. "It's not all bad. When you're both happy, for example, it's the best feeling in the world, since that kind of cycle works in reverse as well.

"Although we're advised to rein in that sort of shit too," Chloe says, rolling her eyes. "In case you like break your brain with endorphins or something."

Max elbows her in the side, before turning to smile at Warren again as she pushes open the door to his floor. "Don't worry, we can teach you the exercises, and once you let your parents know, they might send you to see a doctor too. But first…" she trails off, looking down the corridor towards Nathan's door.

She won't deny she's a little bit frightened – the encounter from this afternoon (was it only this afternoon?) is still fresh in her mind. Nathan's aggression hadn't left her unaffected, and the dark, roiling sea of his current emotions isn't any more encouraging. But he is in pain and she can't just go back to sleep and ignore it – and even if she could, she wouldn't.

He's a scary prick and I don't think I like him all that much – not to mention he was might have been involved in Kate's drugging and kidnapping – but I can't ignore someone who's suffering. I can't.

Max takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders, pulling courage from the way Chloe's hand slips into hers, giving it a quick, encouraging squeeze. "Let's go speak to Nathan."

xxx

"Hello?"

His voice echoes in the darkening landscape around him. The air is deep blue, the half-light of rapidly fading twilight, and snow is falling softly on the towering, dark hedges surrounding him.

It's absolutely silent, apart from the thin, frail sound of his own voice. "Hello?"

There is no response, and Nathan's pulse quickens as some nameless fear crawls over his skin. He doesn't know why he's frightened, why there's an awful sense of dread curdling his stomach; there's no signs of life anywhere, but the hush feels less like peaceful silence and more like an indrawn breath, like a sense of waiting, of terrible anticipation.

He doesn't hang around to see what it's waiting for. Breaking into a sprint, he runs through the maze (of course, it's a maze, it's not hedges, it's always been a maze) but no matter how many twists and turns he takes, he never seems to get anywhere and his legs feel as heavy as lead, like he's struggling for every stride –

Then there is a flicker of movement up ahead, and he slides to a halt. Dread rises in him, so thick it's almost choking, and he doesn't know why –

Rachel steps out from behind the corner.

"Rachel," he says, hardly able to believe his eyes (why? why I am surprised?). The giddy delight is almost overwhelming in contrast to his previous dread and he steps forward, smiling in relief, ignoring the unease still tugging at him (something's wrong, something's wrong, something's wrong). "Rachel, what are you doing here?"

Rachel smiles and laughs as she steps forward too. "Why? Surprised to see me? You should be." Her head tilts playfully, but there is something wrong, something wavers in the air and she is still gliding forward but her clothes are caked in earth, her pale skin is greenish and her eyes are sunken black pits, black pits boring into his eyes as she stalks forward, her fingers lengthening and curling into claws –

"After all, you did kill me."

He stumbles back with a choked, horrified cry and suddenly she is no longer Rachel, suddenly it is his father looming over him, grabbing him by his collar. "What is wrong with you?" comes the hiss. Sean Prescott's face is a mask of rage and disbelief as he shakes Nathan hard enough that his teeth rattle in his head. "How can someone like you possibly be a Prescott? What did I do deserve such a useless fucked-up mess for a son –"

His father lets go in disgust and Nathan crashes to the ground, shaking uncontrollably. He looks up and it is no longer his father standing over him, but Kate Marsh instead. Her face is streaked with tears but she is glaring at him, furious. Silver duct tape is still wound around her wrists, jaggedly torn, and she takes a step towards him, small fists clenched. "This is your fault, Nathan Prescott, your fault, YOUR FAULT –"

And suddenly it is no longer tears running down her cheeks, but blood, blood splashing down and staining her spotless white blouse, splashing over the golden cross hanging about her neck –

Then Kate Marsh is gone, and it's Jefferson who is standing over him. He smiles, and crouches down, bringing his camera up and the flash blinds Nathan momentarily. "That's what I'm talking about Nathan, that lovely look of vulnerability – but you'll never understand if you don't pay attention, why am I even wasting my time with you –"

And there is duct tape around Nathan's wrists and ankles now, tightening to the point of pain, and now it is around his throat and he is drowning in panic and terror, making high keening noises as it winds tighter –

Tighter –

Tighter –

Nathan jerks awake with a cry that is nearly a scream. He thrashes desperately, trying to fight his way free of the blanket that has somehow twisted itself around his neck as he slept, and he falls right out of the bed onto the floor. He is aware of the ugly sobs tearing from his throat, of his skin wet with tears and sweat, of the terror is so strong he can almost taste it. His emotions feel even more scattered and jumbled than normal, like they're bouncing at him from multiple different places, and he is shaking so hard he knocks over the bottle of pills when he reaches for it.

"Shit, fuck, fucking hell –" His voice cracks, and he sobs again, fury welling up hot and fast as he gropes for the pill bottle and can't find it, where the fuck is it stupid useless piece of shit –

Nathan's fingers finally close around it and he downs a couple in quick succession. He leans back against the wall and closes his eyes, still trembling uncontrollably. A spark of bright pain draws his attention to his left hand and he looks down to sees his fist clenched so hard that his nails are drawing blood, bright and shining in the dim light of his room. He curses and reaches for a tissue –

There is a knock at the door.

It's not especially loud, but in the middle of the night any noise sounds thunderous, and he freezes, staring at his door in surprise. It comes again, and he lurches to his feet, padding warily over to the door. If this is Logan or Zach playing some kind of stupid joke…

His heart is still beating too quickly from residual terror and he's still shaking a little as he opens the slightly – to the last people he expected to see on his doorstep at two in the morning. "Graham? Caulfield?"

They both look sleep-ruffled and rumpled, with matching apprehensive expressions. "Hi Nathan," Caulfield says quietly. "Uh, you probably weren't expecting us…"

"Yeah, no shit." He automatically falls back on his default general irritation with the world at large, mostly to cover the overwhelming bafflement he's feeling right now, although there's plenty of room for annoyance too. "What the fuck are you losers even doing here?" He gives a smirk he doesn't feel as he gestures across the corridor. "Are you fucking lost or something? Your room's right there, Gayram. You losers have fun with each other."

Graham's face flushes bright red and he starts spluttering. Caulfield's cheeks gain a slight pink tint too, but she tips her chin up and stares at him determinedly. "We're not together like that, Nathan," she says firmly. "And we're here for you."

The directness of both her words and her stare unnerves Nathan a little, which in turns sparks a disproportionate rush of fury at his own lack of self-control. His smirk becomes brittle and edged with anger, and he leans towards her, attempting to intimidate her with his larger frame and proximity. "Well, that's a nice offer, Caulfield." He makes sure to look her over, in a way that can't be mistaken for anything else, before he says, "But you're not my usual type. If you're offering though – "

"Okay, I've had just about a-fucking enough of this."

A familiar, and thoroughly unwelcome, voice cuts in, and he turns just in time to see that same fucking blue-haired punk girl push off from the wall adjacent to his room. Within seconds, she's all up in his face again, aggressive finger in his face, and the memories of this afternoon are surging to the forefront of his mind, his mood dropping like a stone, even as Caulfield hisses a frantic "Chloe!", tugging at the other girl's arm.

"Listen up, Prescott, we all know you're a fucking dick, but for whateverthefuck reason, the universe has, in all its infinite wisdom, given you the gift of two awesome fucking soulmates – that you hella don't deserve by the way – and they were just woken up by whatever freakout you were having two minutes ago –"

"What Chloe is trying to say, is that Warren and I have both developed an empathic bond with you, Nathan," Caulfield interrupts, her blue eyes fixed on him. "And we were just coming to check you on after what I assume was a nightmare. It felt pretty bad."

Graham nods in agreement, but Nathan can only stare at them both. He'd been trying not to think about the fact that he'd found his last two soulmates earlier today and had been mostly successful at blocking out any and all related thoughts, but he is utterly unprepared for this curveball. His mind all but stalls on the phrase empathic bond and suddenly he realises what he felt earlier, what he feels now isn't him being even more scattered and fucked-up than usual – there is a distinct sense of apprehension and hope radiating from two different places, and some part of his brain is telling him that it's coming from directly in front of him, from the people directly in front of him.

Then suddenly, there's a rising sense of horror as he stares at them both, his breath coming unevenly (an empathic bond, an empathic bond, there's no hiding how fucked-up I am from something like that, they'll know how much of a freak I am) and their expressions immediately shift to concern, threaded through with alarm, and he feels it, feels the shift –

"Nathan," Graham starts, starting to stretch out a hand towards him – to do what, Nathan doesn't know, but he doesn't let him get that far. The confused maelstrom of emotion churning inside him morphs into bright, familiar fury, and Nathan gladly grabs onto it.

"Get the fuck out of my face, Gayram," he spits, all bristling, jagged hostility as he backs up into his room. "I don't need your fucking help, or anyone else's for that matter, and I definitely don't need fucking soulmates –" his voice has risen to a near shout and he can't seem to control his volume, "So why don't you just do me a favour and fuck OFF!"

Nathan slams the door hard enough to rattle it on its hinges and sways on the spot, before sinking abruptly to the floor. He can hear noises in the corridor, of doors creaking open and sleepy, annoyed questions from some of the other guys in the dorm, and the indistinct answers of the three intruders outside his door, but he can't really focus on any of it.

He buries his face in his knees and fights the urge to scream. Instead, he grips his calves, digging in his nails hard enough to send flares of pain across his legs. He's not sure how long he sits like that, slowly breathing in and out, but gradually he becomes aware of the two bright spots of emotion on the other side of the door (how did I ever think they were mine, they're so much clearer and brighter than anything I've ever felt). Just by the faint rustling and murmuring he can hear, and the twin shadows silhouetted against the gap at the bottom of his door, they seem to have sat down and are leaning against it.

Bafflement and anger flicker within him (what the fuck are they doing?) and he's on the verge of opening his mouth and shouting at them to fuck off again, when he hears Caulfield suddenly laugh. Clear, bright amusement, golden and thrumming like the notes of a harp comes across one of the bonds and Nathan's grip on his calves relaxes as he blinks, stunned. A second later, he hears Graham laugh too, his amusement and happiness washing across the other bond, and it's like the warmth of a roaring fire on a freezing October evening, like sinking into a hot bath after being out in the cold and the rain –

Nathan's barely even aware he's crept across the room, curling up against his side of the door. He can feel the wood vibrating with the buzz of their voices, feel it shift as they move and laugh. This close, it feels like he's floating in a warm ocean, buoyed up by emotions he so rarely gets to feel (not to mention they're always fucking tainted when they're mine, always) and while the voice that tells him he's behaving like a freak is still there, it's so quiet and far away he can hardly hear it.

Nathan leans against the door, and unbelievably, feels himself relax completely. And then, gradually, his eyes close and he slips into sleep; a truly peaceful sleep for the first time in far too long.

xxx

"Wow," Warren says, sounding dazed.

Max nods, pretty sure they've both just experienced the same thing. Feeling Nathan's churning mess of dark emotion smooth out into something akin to wonder, edged with awe, had been a pretty dramatic change. Feeling the echo of their own amusement and happiness bounce back along the bond as Nathan had relaxed further into the positive emotions they were feeling was also a bit trippy, in a good way.

She closes the YouTube video on her phone, the comedian cut off mid-joke as the app closes, and then leans back against Nathan's door with a sigh. "Mission accomplished, I guess."

"Fantastic," Chloe grumbles. "Now we can go back to bed? It's like nearly four and we're getting up at half seven."

"Aye aye, Captain Chloe," Max says, smiling despite her tiredness.

Chloe pushes herself to her feet, arching an eyebrow at Max as she holds out her hand. "Is that sarcasm I hear from you, First Mate?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Max promises solemnly, still smiling as she accepts Chloe's outstretched hand and rises from the floor. Warren follows suit a moment later, casting an uncertain look at Nathan's closed door.

"Do you think he'll be okay now?" he asks. "I mean, we don't even know why he was so terrified to begin with."

"Well, you'll both know about it pretty quickly if he isn't," Chloe says, rolling her eyes. Max catches a flash of irritation and – jealousy? – from her, before Chloe turns away. "And is it really a surprise that Prescott didn't immediately spill his guts? That asshole doesn't seem the sharing and caring type."

Warren sighs heavily. "No, I know what you mean. I guess I'll see you guys in the morning."

"Goodnight Warren." Max gives him an encouraging smile and briefly squeezes his arm. "Just call if you're worried about something, it doesn't matter what time it is."

"Yeah, but like do your best to not call until at least half seven, please." Chloe's tone is verging on a whine and Max has to stifle her laughter at the waves of tired, grumpy petulance coming off of her. "I need my fucking beauty sleep."

Warren snorts with laughter, and then adds, a hint of mischief in his voice. "Yes, you do. Goodnight Max, Chloe!" He ducks quickly into his room and locks it behind him; Max is left making strange squeaky noises as she fights to keep her laughter restrained at Chloe's open-mouthed look of surprised affront.

"That cheeky asshole!" her soulmate finally manages to say, offended and grudgingly admiring at the same time. Max has to drag her away before she loses control of her giggles and they wake up the whole dorm (again).

They make it back to Max's room without incident and are asleep as soon as their heads touch the pillows.

xxx

They are greeted at precisely seven-thirty am with a series of excited texts from Warren.

[10/08 7:30am Warren]: Hey are you guys up?

[10/08 7:30am Warren]: Are you ready to try out your superpowers Max? I'm ready!

[10/08 7:31am Warren]: I still almost can't believe it's really happening

[10/08 7:31am Warren]: I feel like we're in a movie!

Chloe groans and stuffs her head under the pillow as Max sleepily scrolls through her messages. "Can't we tell him to fuck off?"

"No, Chloe, that would be rude," Max says, covering her mouth with her hand as she yawns. "Especially since you set the meeting time in the first place."

"Ugh." Chloe's voice is muffled against the pillow but she radiates a kind of grudging acceptance through the bond.

[10/08 7:32am Warren]: Also you guys should the check local news – we apparently missed it, what with all our drama last night, but there was a freak snowfall last night, localised to Arcadia Bay. Totally weird and wrong for the season and the temperature, everyone's going nuts.

"Pass," Chloe announces as Max relays that information to her. "No leftover energy or concentration for random snow showers." Max is still giggling at Chloe's grumpiness as they head to the showers together.

It doesn't take them long to get dried and dressed and at 8am, there's a knock at the door. Max opens it and Kate and Warren come trooping in, prompting a flurry of greetings. Kate's still yawning as she talks, but Warren is bright-eyed and excited, brandishing a clipboard in Max's direction. "Hey Max! I've got a bunch of ideas about your power and things we can systematically test –"

"You're a morning person, aren't you?" Chloe cuts Warren off, her question more a statement as she eyes him balefully. "Ugh. Anyway, if anyone's forgotten, the plan for today is to test the shit out of Max's powers, and then tonight use said powers to bust into the Principal's office to look at all the classified shit. This'll hopefully give us more leads relating to any Vortex Club party related offenses – with extra attention paid to Prescott since he's hella suspicious – which will hopefully in turn give us leads on Rachel and Kate's situations. But speaking of Max's powers –" she stalks over and snatches the clipboard, ignoring his protests. "Show me what you've got then, Science Boy."

Max's eyes meet Kate's and they both start giggling.

In the two hours they have before class starts, Max finds herself being thoroughly put through her paces. Through Warren's tests, she discovers she can rewind for approximately five minutes (it seems to vary slightly each time) before her head starts feeling like it's splitting open and red blotches bloom in her vision. She finds out that she can carry physical objects with her back in time; anything she's wearing or carrying (regardless of size or weight) goes with her, even if she didn't originally have it. She also discovers that if she moves from her original position and then rewinds, she can effectively teleport – at least in the eyes of those around her.

"That is so fucking cool!" Chloe enthuses as Max walks back into her room, having disappeared in front of her audience mere seconds before. Testing superpowers (and the three cups of coffee Kate brought with her) appears to have restored her good humour. "Max, I don't think you get how cool this is!" Warren is similarly enthusiastic in his praise, but Max can only yawn, feeling bone-weary at this point. The distant throb of a headache is beginning in her temples as she plops down on the bed next to Kate, who is watching with a quieter awe.

"Do you mind if I fall asleep on you?" Max murmurs and Kate gives a quiet laugh, as Chloe and Warren start a loud discussion again with much hand waving. They'd told Kate earlier about Warren and Max developing the empathic bond with Nathan, and the blonde girl had had the same sort of unsettled, mixed reaction they all had last night, although she appears to have settled into contemplative quiet since then.

"Not at all," she replies and Max leans against her shoulder immediately. She is entirely ready to fall asleep again, when something crackles under her left knee.

"Shoot." Max shifts her weight and rescues the polaroid trapped under her leg. She'd taken it just before they'd started testing; a group selfie of the four of them, Chloe and Warren with giant beaming grins, and Kate and her with small, warm smiles. Chloe had already scribbled The Almighty Max and her faithful Minions on the back with a sharpie, and the sight makes Max laugh a little.

"You're lucky." Kate's smile is soft as she looks at the picture and its annotation. "To have a soulmate so lovely and devoted."

Max glances at her, surprised, and then beams. "I know. I'm lucky to have Chloe in my life; not everyone understands how special she is."

Kate coughs a little, still smiling. "That's probably because she's not the most…tactful person, and people tend to judge on first impressions. I feel like I've got to know her pretty well over the last month, and there's a beautiful soul under her prickly exterior."

"I'm glad you see it too," Max says, unable to keep from grinning. "I'm so happy that Chloe and I have made a friend like you too Kate, regardless of the fact you're my soulmate – you're kind and lovely and I'm so, so thankful to have you in my life."

It's a little embarrassing to blurt out something so unabashedly sentimental, but it's worth it for how openly happy Kate looks, even as she blushes in embarrassment from the praise. "T-thank you, Max. That's kind of you to say."

"It's the truth," Max says firmly, glad to see Kate looking so much more cheerful. She's seen her gentlest soulmate cry enough in the last couple of days to last her a lifetime. She glances back at the polaroid again, wishing they could all always be as happy as they were in that moment when the camera captured them – and then she blinks, frowning.

What the…?

The edges of the picture seem to shimmer slightly, warping and distorting as if in a heat haze. For a moment, Max thinks she hears the sound of faint distant laughter echoing out from the polaroid, four distinct voices mingling together.

Then the world flickers and she experiences a abrupt intense vertigo, like she's tipping forward, falling into the picture, and it's suddenly all she can see, the shimmering glossy image expanding and filling up her vision –

The world flashes white and Max's camera nearly falls from her suddenly nerveless fingers.

"Yes!" Chloe cheers. "You better have made me look awesome, Max!" She jumps off the bed, heading for the desk and Max's collection of pens, before turning around with a sharpie in her right hand. "Now all it needs is a little…inscription…"

Her voice tails off as she takes in Max's expression, her face completely white with shock, and Warren and Kate slide forward on the bed, craning around to look at her. "Max? Warren asks worriedly. "What's wrong?"

xxx

It doesn't take them long to determine this is another manifestation of Max's power.

It appears she can jump back in time through photographs, as long as she is either the subject of the photograph or the photographer herself, which they test by giving her a variety of photographs – she only sees the air warp and shimmer around those which it is possible for her to use. Similarly, if the photograph is older than a day, it doesn't seem to respond regardless.

"Hmm, so it does look like you've got some sort of time limit," Warren says, sounding fascinated as he scribbles away on his clipboard.

"Ironically," Chloe drawls with a grin. "So it's either a five minute short rewind, or a long jump back in time, to anywhere within the previous twenty-four hours, as long as you have a picture taken either by you, or of you within that time period. That is so fucking cool!"

"I can't help but wonder too, if the whole photograph thing is because it's you, Max," Warren says speculatively. "If someone who wasn't a photographer got your superpower, would they still be able to do it? Would they be able to do it some other way?"

"If I ever happen to bump into someone else who can time-travel, I'll be sure to ask them," Max says, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "And I'm not really a photographer; not a proper one, anyway."

"Ah, Max, the universe disagrees," Chloe waggles a pen at her, grinning all the while. "It's a sign! Your pictures are good enough to bend time itself!"

"Speaking of time," Kate interrupts, looking amused and saving Max from having to reply to that, "It's nearly ten, and class is starting soon."

Chloe and Warren groan but Max is actually mostly relieved. "No, it's okay, I kind of need a break anyway, you guys – my head's killing me."

Chloe's petulance disappears almost immediately, and she sits up, frowning as she looks Max over. "Are you okay? Do think it's the time travel? I mean," she adds, "I was getting something off of you, but I thought it was just a headache from not enough sleep."

"Maybe?" Max isn't sure herself, but the pain does seem to be worsening the more she uses her power. "I guess we'll have to wait and see."

So saying, she turns and reaches for her hoodie, thrown over the end of the bed – and suddenly agony erupts in her head, spiking hard enough to make her vision flash white, before all-encompassing darkness rushes up to swallow her whole.

The wind howls, lashing the trees into a wild frenzy of whipping branches against a dark, thunderous sky. The rain is coming in hard, horizontal sheets of icy water that almost immediately drench Max to the skin and she is shivering uncontrollably from both the cold and utter shock of finding herself somewhere other than her dorm room.

"Hello?" she calls out, but her voice is lost in the roar of the storm. Max looks around. She's standing on a dirt road, lined with trees, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, in the cold and the dark as a storm rages around her and she has no idea how she got here. Her confusion and fright are nearly overwhelming, and she stumbles back, arms wrapped around herself in a vain attempt at protecting herself from the driving wind and rain –

And suddenly there is a deer in front of her. A doe, with an odd cast to her coat – she almost looks translucent in the low light. She casts Max a glance over her shoulder, before turning around and starting to trot down the road; inexplicably, Max feels the urge to follow.

Well, at least she might lead me to shelter or something, she rationalises to herself, even as she starts to move. She's got to have somewhere to go herself.

Sure enough, despite the buffeting of the wind and rain, it doesn't feel all that long before a shape looms out of the gloom; Max squints and soon realises that it is some kind of old barn, ramshackle and clearly in need of repair, but still shelter.

"Thank you," she says, grateful despite the absurd situation, and makes to move forward – but suddenly the doe is blocking her path. Large, dark eyes look at her and Max has the strangest feeling that she is trying to tell her something, even as the world around her starts to waver and dissolve –

"Max! Are you okay?! Max, please!"

Max's awareness of the world gradually filters back in. She's being cradled protectively in someone's arms and the familiar tangle of alarm-terror-concern radiating from them immediately identifies them as Chloe, even before Max opens her eyes. She looks up into three identical expressions of frightened concern, feeling something warm trickle out of her nose and run down her face.

"Max, what happened?"

I have absolutely no idea.

A/N: Thank you guys for all your follows, favourites and reviews! I really appreciate your support, and reading your thoughts and opinions inspires me so much. ^_^