The faint sound of wind in the trees is reminiscent of a distant river tumbling over rocks. Far below, the echo of surf breaking against the cliff provides a pleasing complement. The sounds are soothing amidst the chaos of life.

Chloe and I sit together on the bench, watching the distant crests and the birds playing among them. We enjoy coming here together; it's our special place where no one disturbs us. My eyes close, letting the calming sounds wash over me.

"Whatcha thinking, Super Max?"

Her words flutter my eyes open and I look at her. A smile plays at her lips and one arm lays on the back of the bench. I want to smile at her, but my mouth turns downward instead. The waves in the bay pull my eyes away.

"What I'm always thinking about," I reply. "You. My choice."

"Whenever I look at Arcadia Bay from here, my heart hurts. There are so many people I hurt…so much pain."

Tears trickle down my cheeks as I look at her. "Most of all, I hurt you."

Chloe gives me that cocky smile she has sometimes. Her smile intensifies the pain inside me. She lays her hand atop mine. Something breaks free and lodges in my throat.

"You're the Time Lord, Max. You can undo the pain."

The words wrench a sob from me. Gravity seems to fight my breathing, making me struggle for air. Chloe slowly fades from view as tears fall from my face.

"I wish I could, Chloe, I wish I could. I miss you." My voice is choked by sobs. Pulling my legs up, I bury my face into my knees.

Today marks six months since Chloe died. Six months since she stood on that cliff and told me how selfish she'd been. Six months since she selflessly offered her own life for all of Arcadia Bay.

This reality is what she wanted, right? She gave her life so Arcadia Bay could live. So I could live.

Only I am not living, not really. All I want is to see her again, to touch her, to hear her.

It's supposed to be better by now, isn't it?

Six months on and she still rules my world.

Six months on and she dies in my nightmares.

I ask myself the same question: why did Chloe have to die?

There is no answer to that question and I fear there never will be.

A hand rests on my shoulder, bringing me out of my funk. Kate. My watery eyes peer at her as my hand reaches out to her. She knows where to find me, she always does. She takes my hand and sits close to me on the bench.

"Hey," she says. Her voice soft. No "why are you here?", no "are you ok?" Because she knows I'm not.

My decision to sacrifice Chloe spared Kate much of the drama, pain, and grief she experienced in the other timeline. She never found herself on the roof, because Nathan shot first and brought Jefferson down.

She got the help she needed. Regular counseling and a support group or friends helped her step away from that dark place. Before my own guilt became too much I was part of that group as well.

Kate and I were friends then, and now. Day after day she saw me withdrawing from life. Not eating. Pushing friends away. She recognized what was happening and wouldn't let me go. When I tried to ignore her, or push her away, she pulled me closer.

It doesn't matter to her that she doesn't fully understand my loss and pain. I'm not sure I understand it either. Chloe was a friend I abandoned for five years. That week spent together brought back so many thoughts and feelings I thought long buried. It ended on a possibility I don't understand, crushed by a decision no one should face.

To Kate all that matters is I need help, I need a friend. She shared with me many things she learned from her own counseling sessions. From her I learned how to devise a safety plan, how ground myself and more.

"It's so beautiful up here." Her voice is soft as if afraid to break the gentle sounds of nature. My response is to nod and look out across the bay again.

Far distant, beyond the bay, the ocean glitters with the color of Chloe's eyes. She was so strong that day, and I am not. My eyes are drawn to that color and I find myself standing and walking close to the edge. Beside me I feel Kate hurry close, her arm going around my shoulder.

Jump! Be free!

The surf below beckons me, promising release in its embrace. I push aside the thoughts, trying to focus on Kate's arm grounding me in reality. "I keep thinking…it should have been different. She never should have been in that bathroom with Nathan." My voice is filled with the guilt and loathing I feel for myself.

She pulls me tight, saying, "We'll get through this. Together."

A weak smile flits across my face. Her words remind me of Chloe and I together on this cliff during the storm. She was my number one priority. And I sent her to her death. It started five years ago when I let life and my own insecurities keep me away from her.

"Max Caulfield? Don't you forget about me." A shudder runs through me as her words tear apart my heart. How could I ever forget her?

What's the use of time control if it only results in pain?

Kate loops her arm around mine, saying, "Let's get out of here." I nod my assent and we leave.

"You don't know who the fuck I am or who you're messing around with!"

"Where'd you get that? What are you doing? Come on, put that thing down!"

"Don't EVER tell me what to do. I'm so SICK of people trying to control me!"

"You are going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs-"

"Nobody would ever even miss your 'punk ass' would they?"

"Get that gun away from me, psycho!"

A gun fires.

"No!" My scream is a muffled sound falling dead to the floor. Around me the brightness of the bathroom fades into darkness. My heart pounds in me. I have to get to the restroom! I have to save Chloe!

Something is tangling my legs and I scramble to free myself. I'm crying Chloe's name, over and over, as I feel seconds, and her life, slipping away.

Hands grab my wrists, pulling them. Someone is calling my name. It doesn't matter! I don't matter! I have to save Chloe!

"Let me go," I yell, "I have to save Chloe!"

A wrist is free and I'm struggling harder. "I have to go! I have to save her!" My breath is short and I taste salt. Light flicks on, bright and blinding. My eyes screw shut and I turn my head from it.

"Max!" It's Kate's voice. My shoulders sag and I collapse. "Oh, Max," Kate says, her voice warm and tender. Her arms are around me, supporting me.

Don't look at me Kate! I don't want you to see me like this!

The thoughts are pointless. Kate has seen me in so much worse conditions. She pulls me toward her, not letting me get away. My head is on her lap and she's stroking my hair. It's only now that I realize I'm crying. It's tears that I taste.

As her hands glide through my hair she tells me, "It's ok to cry, Max. It's ok to feel and let it out." And she puts in front of me a pillow. Pushing my face into it I vent my pain and guilt and loss into it. All through it she calmly strokes my hair, giving me little reminders to feel, and hear, and breathe.

The terror of the nightmare slowly fades as I vent everything into the pillow. After a long scream, the pain seeps out of me, and my breathing evens out. The nightmare is the same. Each time my mind replays Chloe being killed by Nathan. The decision I felt I had to make.

Some three months ago Kate started sleeping in my room. Before that I got little sleep. The nightmares happened ever night. I'm sure I looked like the walking dead for months. My grades, already poor, had become worse.

With her in my room, the nightmares still visited me, but less frequently. When they do happen, she helps me get back to sleep, something I was never able to do on my own. The plans and tools she shared before, I had failed to use as well. Under her care she helped me adopt tools to help when my guilt seemed too much to deal with.

Kate's fingers, soft and warm, and her words sooth my fears. My mind drifts to a memory, one that only I hold. During one of our conversations, Chloe described Rachel as her Angel. At the time that statement had driven a dagger of jealousy and guilt into me. Right now, Kate is my Angel. I finally understand what Chloe meant.

Tuesday dawns, a school day. I awaken with a start as I feel a body pressing against me. It takes a few minutes of panicked thinking before I remember it's Kate. Her presence reminds me to use one of my grounding exercises, focus on my breathing. In and out, I count the breaths. The panic eases.

I'm still lying with my head on Kate. She slumped over in the night, curled around me. Rising without disturbing her, I ready myself for the day.

I don't attend class. I can't. The emptiness and ache are too powerful. Instead, I spend the day visiting the junkyard and her gravesite. Reliving memories and walking a painful path. Keeping her memory and my guilt alive.

Kneeling I trace the letters on the headstone: Chloe Elizabeth Price, Daughter. She lays next to her father, something I think she would have wanted.

I lay a cluster of blue flowers before the headstone, my monthly custom.

One thing that makes this so much harder is no one fully understands the extent of my loss. Really who could? Who could I talk to that wouldn't think I'm crazy?

Oh yes, Chloe Price and I had all sorts of adventures! I saved her countless times from death because I could travel through time. Only I had to let her die to save a fucking town that didn't fucking care about her! I had to let her die feeling unloved and abandoned.

Instead I have to bear the looks and the gossip. People are constantly wondering "when will Max move on"; their statements litter my daily path through life. They don't know how these add to the ache I feel inside. They don't know how these fuel my guilt.

I stretch out on her grave, staring at the sky. It's what I do whenever I visit. It's the closest I'll ever be to her now that she's gone. The sky above is a deep blue. A faint breeze stirs the grass around me. It riffles the trees and my hair. The beauty and peace is lost on me. The picture of the blue butterfly is clutched to my chest.

I want to slip into a never ending sleep, here on her grave.

You'd fuck that up somehow.

My self-hatred rarely leaves me alone.

After the shooting, on Saturday, my parents drove down. They wanted to take me home to Seattle. In a surprising Chloe-like moment, I told them to fuck off. I was not leaving her resting place. In a gesture of supreme understanding, they didn't push me. They said they'd be here at the end of the school year. They continue to send me texts and notes.

I am still considered 'at risk.' A little over four months ago I gave into my overwhelming guilt and tried to end my life. My parents understandably were freaked and tried again to take me away. I refused. Daily calls and biweekly visits supplemented the texts and notes.

I dread those calls, seeing my parents and realizing now I'm the disappointing daughter. They won't say it but I see it in their glances, between the lines in their notes. Another one of their visits is scheduled this weekend. Another opportunity for them to get me to let go of the past.

Kate moved into my room soon after my attempt, to watch and help me. Nights of broken sleep next to her replaced nights of no sleep. I don't deserve her.

Each day is a reminder that I am the reason Chloe is in the ground. Five years where I knew Chloe needed a friend, knew she needed me, and I'd let my awkwardness and anxiety get the better of me. Nathan is not the real reason Chloe is in the ground. I am.

At long last my guilt leaves to tear me down another time. My sightless eyes stare at the sky. I am exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally. How I want to succumb to the sleep that lurks at the edges of my mind. How I want release, a permanent release. It doesn't come.

What is the fucking point of it all?

Gathering my strength I stand, rubbing my face. My last stop is Two Whales diner for lunch. I start walking toward the cemetery entrance. Halfway there I stop and look back, to have a final glimpse of her.

Something I see gives me pause. I squint for a better look. Something blue hovers around her grave. My eyes widen and I take a step backwards. Are my eyes deceiving me? My foot shuffles forward, then break into a run. Sliding to a halt in front of the grave, my heart pounding, I look at what caught my eye.

My heart falls. The blue I spied is nothing more than a few dry flower petals. They lie atop the gravestone. My vision darkens and I lean against the stone. "What did you fucking expect, Max," I mutter. "It's not real. She's not real. SHE'S GONE!"

My hands clench at the gravestone with all my might. The stone doesn't yield. At last I let go, my arms cramped from the effort. Clenching my hands at my side, I look again at the words carved in stone. I put her there! A sharp pain explodes in my shoulder again and again. I'm not a friend! I'm not! I'm not!

Breath comes in ragged gasps and my shoulder throbs as I slump against the headstone. Why do I come here? Why do I desecrate her resting place with my foul presence?

I turn and leave the cemetery.

None of the pictures I took that week are with me, lost in another timeline. The only pictures I have of her are from five years ago. Only my memories of that week accompany me. I've tried several times to sketch them, but my mind and body refuse, leaving me with scratches on the paper.

Photography is a thing of the past for me. Flashes trigger memories of the dark room. Just holding a camera makes my hands shake. Mark Jefferson's lasting legacy is that he ruined everything I loved.

Thankfully the photography class is still canceled. Not only does the school need another teacher, they didn't want to cause further grief for for his former students.

As I near the diner, I look down the street. A splash of blue catches my eye. Warily, I stop and focus. There, near the alley on the other side of the diner is definitely something in the air, blue and fluttering. Unthinking, I take off toward it. The shape flits into the alley, me right behind it.

At the end of the alley I see it fall to the ground near the homeless woman who lives there. I stop before the cardboard she sits on. Again my heart sinks in my chest. The blue shapes on the ground are crumpled pieces of blue tissue paper.

Like my heart, I too sink, falling to my knees. Trembling hands reach out to touch the paper. Why am I seeing these? The memory of the butterfly, my photo of it, is in stark relief in my mind. The damned thing started it all then disappeared. Is this another way for my too punish myself?

Next to me the homeless lady shuffles, trying to move away from me. Brief memories of disjointed conversations with her flit through my head.

"Well hello, Max," the homeless woman says. She looks at me through the dirt and grime that hazes her face. Her greeting catches me unawares. To my knowledge I haven't talked to her in this timeline.

"H-Hello," I say. "How do you know me?" Way to be rude, Max!

"You're a friend of Joyce's, aren't you? She talks about you all the time."

Oh. I nod, not certain what to say to her. I'm not the chatty person from the other timeline. No mysteries to solve here, just insatiable guilt to placate.

"It's a shame about her daughter. Chloe. That was her name. So young. Makes you wish you could go back and change things. Maybe stop her from going into that bathroom, you know?"

For a moment I can't speak. My heart beats faster and my breath catches in my chest. Steadying myself with a hand against the trash bin, I nod and push out a hoarse "yes."

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I continue, "but what if she's supposed to die, because if she doesn't something worse will happen?"

Her eyes are steady as she looks at me. The garbage bin has a stench that tears my eyes, but hers are not bleary. "You speak of fate and destiny? Do you think fate made me homeless?"

That's not a question I expected from her. I shake my head with a weak, "no."

"No," She echoes. She leans closer to me. Ignoring the smell I lean toward her. "Tell you a secret," she whispers, "It doesn't work too well without her."

"W-what doesn't work without her?"

With a crooked smile she leans back with a laugh. "Well you. You don't work too well without her."

My mouthing throat are suddenly dry and parched. I manage to croak out, "why…why do you say that?"

"That's what Joyce says. We talk sometimes and that's what she tells me. 'Max isn't the same since my Chloe was killed. She blames herself for it, poor girl.'"

"And I say if you can change it then you should."

Words escape me as what she says settles in my heart. Certainly she can't know about what happened, or what…what I can do.

"If you go to the diner could you get me some food? That Joyce she's a nice lady. She gives me food sometimes."

My mind is whirling from the woman's words, no longer paying attention to the world around us. Her words keep circling in my mind, "if you can change it then you should." Similar thoughts have occurred to me plenty of times over the last six months. For some reason, hearing someone else voice them gives them different weight.

Taking several breaths, I manage to compose myself. The woman is looking at me blankly. Flashing a weak smile, I use the garbage bin to stand up.

On auto-pilot, I enter the diner still focused on her words. It wasn't just the bit about saving Chloe, it was her dismissal of fate.

The rest of the day is a blur. I'm dimly aware that I barely touch my lunch, which is typical for me. My appetite has suffered since October. Everything tastes bland. I lost weight in the last six months, almost dangerously. Joyce and Kate are greatly upset by this, always hovering over me when I do eat.

When I fall asleep that night my mind is still preoccupied by those words. My nightmare pushes those thoughts far away as it takes Kate a long time to bring me back into reality. Tonight's experience seemed so raw, so painful. It's as if it was sharpened by the thoughts the homeless lady planted in my head.

Wednesday dawns, and I rejoin the school schedule. It's hard to focus because I'm thinking of yesterday's weird events. Twice I thought I spotted a blue butterfly. Each time it was something else. The conversation with the homeless lady. It's all unsettling. It's like the foundation of my decision is being questioned.

Time moves slowly through out the day, one class after another. I muddle through tasks and questions. Preoccupation with yesterday takes all my attention. By the time classes are over though I've rejected it all. More than once over the months I wrestled with these questions and each time I come back to the same conclusion: saving Chloe disrupted natural laws to the point all of Arcadia Bay was threatened. Letting her…that was the only way.

Mind back in its consistently guilt-ridden path, I return to my dorm room. Kate is there to make sure I'm ok before she goes to her room to practice her violin. We're chatting and I'm placing my bag on my chair when it happens.

My vision is seared by the bright flash of lightning shatters and my ears are pummeled by the deafening boom of thunder. I clap my hands over my ears too late. A persistent ringing is all I can hear. The rain makes it hard to see more than a few feet. I'm drenched, clothes and hair sticking to me. "Kate," I yell and look around. Once again I am on the cliff by the lighthouse; Kate is nowhere in sight.

"No," I shout, "not again. What is going on?"

I look across the bay expecting to see a tornado. What I see stops my heart. A wall of water, easily a hundred feet high, is approaching Arcadia Bay.

"Max! Max!" Kate's voice is distant and muffled. I'm on my side, lying on the floor. My mouth makes a sound, words maybe? Grabbing Kate's arm I try to sit up. She shrieks and scrambles away. Her hands reach for something then move towards my face.

"Guh," I say, so intelligent. Kate's on her knees, close again. One hand holds my shoulder while the other is now holding something white…a tissue. She presses it against my lip.

"What happened?" Her eyes keep flicking from my eyes to my mouth. Raising my hand, I grab hers and pull it away from my mouth. The tissue comes away bloody.

Groaning I take the tissue from her and hold it under my nose. "It's happening again," I whisper.

"What? What is happening again?"

Kate's question drives all thoughts from my mind. What was a whirlwind of thoughts just seconds again is now an empty plain. I struggle to pull a coherent thought from this nothingness. I don't want to lie to her. At the same time, do I tell her the truth?

"It's something that happened…during that week. I began having fainting spells and bloody noses." Kate looks so concerned that my half-truth causes a shameful tinge to creep up my face.

With her help, I make it to my feet. "It only happened that week and stopped."

"How often did it happen?"

"Uh, two or three times."

"Did you see a doctor about it?"

I look down as I say, "No…other events drove that from my mind." It's so easy to build on that half-truth. It eats at me. What kind of person am I, that I won't be honest with the one person who really cares?

A selfish bitch.

She grimaces and doesn't say anything for a while. Her eyes study my face, my body language. "I'll skip my violin practice today to stay with you." It's useless to argue with her so I just nod my head. I think she suspects I'm not being fully honest.

When she leaves I fall into my desk chair and plop my head on my arms. What am I going to do? Why didn't I tell Kate the truth? Why did I have the vision? I haven't even used my power for months! A tiny thought forms in the back of my mind. I let the thought grow and take form.

Perhaps the storm is not linked to time reversal.

The first time I had a vision it was before that weird use of my power, one I've never been able to duplicate. In the months since I began referring to it as a 'hard reset' because it actually moved me in space and time. Does this mean I'll do another hard reset soon?

Kate returns and my head is still whirling with ideas. The thoughts I had rejected earlier in the day come back full force on the wings of the vision. With great effort, I focus on my schoolwork so I don't give her more cause to worry. Well, no more than I usually do.

That night the nightmare drags me from my sleep, leaving me shaking and covered with sweat. I think I hurt Kate this time when I struggled but she won't admit it. She deserves a better friend than me.

Thursday is another haze of classes intermingled with depressing thoughts. My grades have slipped a little. Well, ok, my GPA is now at 2.4. If not for Kate and my medical excuses I likely would lose my scholarship.

The weather is warm and sunny and I feel an urge to spend some time outside. A bench in the courtyard is where I park myself. It's a great place to watch life and the world around me. It also gives me plenty of time for reflection.

At the far end of the yard is Samuel. I watch him working on the irrigation system. The more I watch the more something pulls me toward him. Before I realize it I'm off the bench and walking to him.

"Hi Samuel."

He jerks upright and faces me. "Hello, Max," he says. His eyes look at me without seeing me.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, Samuel is checking the water lines. They need to be ready soon."

"Ready soon? For what?"

His eyes blink slowly at my question. "It's spring, Max. Summer is soon and the plants will be thirsty."

"Oh, yeah…How are the squirrels?"

His eyes suddenly focus on me with an intensity that's unnerving. "The squirrels are good. Winter was easy on them."

My head nods though I'm not really paying full attention. "If you could change something, Samuel," I ask, my words hesitant, "something about your life, would you."

His head tilts at my question. "What would I change," he finally asks.

My ears get a little warm as I chase the first thought from my mind. It wasn't kind and not fair.

"Well…what if you could do something to save someone, someone who died. Would you?"

He again ponders my question. "You mean your friend, Chloe, don't you?"

His answer chases all thought from my mind. It's all I can do to nod in agreement.

"Chloe was in a bad place. She should not be in a bad place. Would you keep her from the bad place?"

Bad place? The restroom? Or does he mean something else?

"If I could, yes. What bad place do you mean?"

Again he looks at me, thoughtful in his own way. I wait for an answer, but it doesn't come. After a while he says, "I have to check the water lines, Max. The lawn will be thirsty soon." Kneeling, he returns to his work.

My mind no longer seems present in my body. Somehow I am in my room, sitting at my desk, eyes focused on the wall. Kate is on the couch reading.

A vision. A homeless lady denying fate and tell me I'm no good without Chloe. Samuel asking whether I'd keep Chloe from the bad place. Some of it seems far fetched. Without the vision I'd dismiss all of it as the desparate keening of a guilt-ridden mind.

"Are you thinking of her?" Kate's words are soft, timid.

My head nods. It's the truth. I am thinking about Chloe and that maybe, just maybe she wasn't supposed to die. Before the thought can cause any pain I shove it away to focus on my school work.

Sleep is the same as always. Peaceful slumber interrupted by gut wrenching panic and grief. Comfort from Kate, descending into slumber, waking in Kate's arms. Thank you, Kate.

The next day, Friday, is a weird mixture of sad thoughts, confusion over recent events, and trying to focus on classes. When the last class ends I rush from the building to my dorm room. I want a few moments to think about everything before Kate checks on me.

I'm sliding down a muddy slope. It's the lighthouse trail, turned into a torrent by the water and mud streaming down. Lightning shatters the sky. My hands cover my ears moments before the thunder slaps me like a sonic hand.

On my hands and knees I crawl up the trail. The water and mud make standing treacherous. It's a fight to make it to the top where I can finally stand.

In the open, the wind knocks me about. I'm cold and shivering and coated with mud. Making my way to the bench, I use it to brace myself.

Spread across the bay is the huge wave, rapidly approaching the town. There's no way anything will escape its destruction. Its magnitude is so much greater than the tornado of the past.

"Why is this happening," I shout. The wind scatters my words, silencing them. Frantic, I look around. I am alone on the cliff. Lights blink off and on in the town.

"Max! Max! Wake up!" Kate's voice is distant, frightened. Again I find myself on the floor of my room. My lip is wet, likely from blood. She pulls me up, but I'm too weak and I collapse against her. My head pounds. She's wiping my lip with tissues.

"Another…fainting spell," she asks. I nod my head, not able to speak yet. She looks away as I hold the tissues to my nose. "Max," her voice is harder than I've ever heard it. "What's really going on?"

"What do you mean," I mumble.

"In the last few months I'd like to think I came to know you really well. Well enough to know that you've been acting…different since Monday. It's not just the fainting and bloody noses. You are…distracted. You know you can tell me anything, Max. That's why I'm here."

There's disappointment in her voice. It makes me want to crawl under my covers and hide, because I put that disappointment there. Shame crawls up my spine and lodges in my cheeks.

Max Caulfield, destroyer of friendships!

For the first time in many months I'm tempted to use a rewind. I feel it lurking at the edge of my mind, just needing an opportunity to leap into action. Kate deserves better than that. She deserves better than me.

"I'm worried about you." Her voice is so faint I barely hear it. It cuts me deep.

"Y-you're right," I manage to squeak. Taking a deep breath I hold it, let it out slowly, then repeat. I climb onto the couch, still weak and awkward. She joins me, waiting, hands clasped and shoulders slumped. We sit there quietly while I collect my thoughts.

"I'm scared, Kate. Scared that what I'm going to tell you…" My voice breaks. Can I actually do this? Her hand brushes mine, intended to reassure me I'm sure. She doesn't know that her touch makes this harder. I'm starting to suspect something that I've been willfully blind to.

After another deep breath, I say, "I'm scared that what I'm going to tell you will drive you away…that-that you won't like me after I tell you."

"Why wouldn't I like you?" There's genuine puzzlement in her voice, like I just handed her something she never wanted.

I turn my head away from her. "Because I've hid things from you, Kate. I haven't been exactly truthful. Because what I'm going to tell you is unbelievable. Because I'm a horrible person and have done horrible things."

Silence greets those words. After several moments I feel her take my hand in hers. A warmth travels up toward my heart when she does. My suspicions deepen, but I push them aside.

There are other reasons, rooted in Kate's upbringing, that I hesitate. What would such a devout, conservative religious person think?

My voice is soft and halting as I begin. "That…incident in the bathroom, last October. That…wasn't the first time Nathan shot Chloe." Her hand tightens its hold on mine.

"W-what do you mean, Max?"

Drawing in another breath, I let it out slowly, and look at her. "I think it best if I show you."

She tilts her head and her eyes don't want to look at me. "Show me what?"

"I…have some…special abilities, that I discovered last October."

Please don't hate me!

She will.

"In a moment, I will be on the bed."

"If you find that more comfortable…?"

Shaking my head, I say, "No. I will appear to…like…teleport or something." Her brow furrows and she leans away. Her hand still holds mine, though. She probably thinks I've finally gone off the deep end. Grabbing a pillow, I place it on her lap, then I rise and move to the bed.

"Ok, now you are on your-"

Rewind.

The rewind is slow, making it easy for me to tell when the pillow leaves her lap. I stop the rewind.

Kate's eyes widen. Her hands twitch and her breathing catches. I give a weak smile then rejoin her on the couch. "What…did you do?" Her voice is hollow and soft. I look at her and she flinches.

"I can control time…and I have visions of the future."

Her already pale complexion goes even paler. In a weird, awkward stiffness she rises from the couch and stumbles to the door. My heart sinks as I lower my head at her reaction. I've lost her.

Poor Maxie! You can't even keep one friend! Worthless!

"Max…" She sounds so scared. My head raises at her voice. She's at the door, hand on the knob. "How did you…do that?"

"Honestly? I don't know."

"You…said you did horrible things. What did you do?" Her voice is so soft I barely hear it.

All sorts of memories run through my head, so many things I try not to think about. What could I share with her that would make sense? Too many memories are from the timeline that no longer exists.

"I let my best friend die when I had the means to save her."

I hear the knob turn and I bury my face in my hands. I'm not worthy of having a friend. She's better off to leave and forget me!

Minutes pass. Instead of hearing the door open, I feel a hand on my shoulder. The couch shifts as Kate seats herself. Tears streak my face as I look at her. She is still very pale.

"What you did…just now, I don't understand it. It scares me. It makes me question everything about you. It goes against…a lot of things I've been taught. At the same time I know you, Max. I know…you aren't…" She doesn't know how to finish, trailing into silence.

My smile barely touches my lips as I say, "If it helps, I don't understand any of it either."

She brightens at that and I see some color return to her.

"You…said that wasn't the…first time Nathan shot…your friend. What did you mean?"

Facing her I wipe my eyes, push down my thoughts and feelings, and say, "The first time he shot her I rewound time and stopped it." I thought her eyes were already wide but they became even wider. After a moment she asked, "Then why is she dead now?"

My gaze falls again as I'm flooded with memories. A cold shudder runs up my back as I hear again those words:

"You are going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs-"

"Nobody would ever even miss your 'punk ass' would they?"

"I would. I do," I think as tears well into my eyes again.

"What I'm going to tell you…has to remain a secret, Kate. No one can know, especially not Chloe's mom. If she found out…I don't know what I could do or say to her! No one can know that I can control time."

Her hand tightens on my shoulder and she says, "I promise."

"Are you sure you want to hear this? I mean, won't you be excommunicated or shunned or something like that by listening to me…by being with me?"

"Let me worry about that."

I know she says that to help me, but I can't help thinking she's taking a risk for me.

Looking down at my hands, I begin the story. I try to keep it light and flowing quickly. The dark parts of her story, David hassling her, her attempted suicide, I avoid.

She makes all the right noises at the right parts. Gasping at the surprises and tearing up at the painful parts. During my telling it was as if Chloe was alive again, beside me with her badass charm and smile.

I break down when telling of Chloe's death in the alternate timeline. "That-that was when I decided my 'gift' was actually a curse. I saved her dad, William, from dying. When I..when I returned to the current time it was to discover that two years previous Chloe had been in a car wreck that paralyzed her."

"We spent time together and then…and then the next morning…she asked me to help her overdose on morphine. She was in constant pain…and her body was shutting down. She wanted…she wanted control over when and how she died…and asked me to help her."

I bury my face in my hands. My memory of that Chloe is so vivid. The desire to make a final decision under her control so clear in her eyes. The peacefulness of her death as she turned her head, closed her eyes, and sank into the pillow. That last breath flowing out of her body, at last no longer in pain. Fresh tears come as those memories replay.

Yet, inside me something seethes at the memory, burning deep and hot.

Fingers thread through my hair, stroking it, rubbing my back, soothing me. Kate is next to me, holding me as I cry. It feels so good to finally share my story with someone. A great weight lying on my heart feels lifted by her caring hands.

The rest of the story goes quickly, finding the dark room, Rachel, Chloe's death and my capture. That part I gloss over, only alluding to my time with Jefferson and my convoluted escape.

"At the end, we found ourselves on the cliff next to the lighthouse. A massive tornado was sweeping across the bay towards town. Chloe told me…she told me she had been selfish. That the week we'd had together was the best week she'd ever had. Her mom and the other people in town didn't deserve to die while she lived. It was…it was the same decision all over again, my curse to fuck things up with my 'gift'. So I did the only thing I thought I could do: I returned to the time in the bathroom and didn't interfere with Chloe's death. Which leads us to here…"

We sit in silence, my face streaked with dried tears. Her fingers are still trailing through my hair and across my back. Her other hand holds mine, fingers entwined. The sensations of her touch…confuses me. After a while Kate says, "Thank you for sharing that with me, Max. It explains a lot about your grief these last few months." Her voice falls silent again.

"Her death, I mean in the bathroom, that's what you see in your nightmares, isn't it?"

All I can do is nod. She already knew that, though.

"Max? Do you blame yourself for her death?"

Again I nod, a little confused. Surely she knows from what little I told her before tonight that I did.

"Tell me about why you blame yourself for that? It sounds like it was a decision both of you made."

But I'm the only one here now! I want to scream. My hands are starting to tremble as dark thoughts thicken in my mind.

"It's Ok," she whispers, stroking my hand. "Let yourself feel. Don't hold it in."

With stuttering words I tell her about not being there for Chloe for five years. Not being there when Chloe needed nothing more than someone to support her. I failed her five years ago. I failed her six months ago. I failed her.

She silently listens with judgement. Occasionally she prompts me with a word or two to tell more.

"You really…cared for her, didn't you? I mean, you had…stronger feelings for Chloe-I mean more than just a friend, didn't you?"

My face whirls to look at her. She is so perceptive! I had avoided mention of our kissing, and anything that might run afoul of her upbringing. She's not looking at me though, her eyes focused on our joined hands.

"Yeah. We knew each other when we were little. I moved to Seattle when I was 13, just after William died. In the days before the move I realized…that Chloe meant more to me than a friend. I didn't really know what I felt or how to tell her."

"When I came back I avoided her because I was scared. I thought she would…hate me. But we reconnected and those feelings came back. Then, again, it was too late. I abandoned her…twice."

Her eyes lift to look into mine. "I don't think you did." She speaks with such tenderness, "I think you were a confused 13 year old that was trying to make sense of her life after moving away and losing two dear friends. And then you had to choose between saving one you…loved or saving a whole town."

I consider her words before asking, "How…did you know she was more than a friend to me?"

Her words are a long time in coming. I wonder that she's still sitting here after all this. What battle is happening in her mind right now between her beliefs and me?

"You so willingly put her concerns before your own. You didn't hesitate to bring her peace even at great harm to yourself. And you did that more than once."

The way she describes me and Chloe, I'm suddenly seeing us in a different light. Only Chloe is not here to share it. The ache rises in my chest.

"Is that what has consumed you this week?"

"No." I pause, thinking more. "I had some unusual events this week that makes me think Chloe wasn't supposed to die."

"Oh!"

"Yeah."

"W-what were they?"

"Those two times this week you found me collapsed on my floor with my nose bleeding? That's what happens when I have a vision."

"That's…like a weakness or consequence?"

"I guess so? In the vision I saw a giant wave headed toward Arcadia Bay. Six months ago I had a similar vision about a tornado. Back then I thought I caused the storm because I used my rewind to save Chloe. Now…I don't know. My use today is the first time in four or five months that I've used it."

Kate hasn't moved away from me, her arm now around my waist and hand on mine. I wonder briefly at her behavior. I honestly expected her to run away long before this.

Look at you, corrupting the innocent!

"It's not just those visions, Kate." I tell her my conversations with the homeless lady and Samuel. "If it was just those conversations, I could ignore all this. I've had those same thoughts, those same debates so many times in my mind the last six months. But those visions…?"

After a long pause she asks, "What are you going to do?"

Shaking my head, I say, "I don't know yet. It seems like my saving Chloe wasn't the cause of the storm. That means…it means she didn't have to die. I…I could go back and save her."

She is silent at my words for a few moments. Her chin rests then on my shoulder and I begin to worry. "What will that mean for…me, and you, and everyone right now?"

Her question stops me cold. I know what will happen, but can I say it? Damn it, I'm faced with another one of those cursed choices! Closing my eyes I answer, my voice trembling and distant, "It means that n-none of this happens. Everything from the moment of Chloe's d-death until now will…never happen."

"But you'll remember, won't you?"

"Yeah, I'll remember. Just like I remember that other timeline where I paralyzed Chloe."

More silence. "Will Joyce be happier?"

"I certainly hope so. Chloe will be alive."

"Will you be happier, Max?"

Dog gone it, Kate! She's really asking something I don't want to give voice to. A profound sadness consumes me as I nod. "Yes, I think I'll be happier."

"Then you should do it." She hugs me tight against her as she says this. It is too much. So like Kate to be kind and selfless, not like my guilt and selfish need for Chloe. Before I can break down further, I snake my arm around her and hold her tight as well. As we hold each other, I summon all my strength and courage to give voice to my suspicions.

"K-Kate?"

"Yes?"

"Do you…" I don't want to do this! I don't know how to do this! How can I do this! Five years ago I had to use a tape recorder to do something similar with Chloe. I thought I was better, more mature. What a sham that belief is!

Do you like me? Ugh. That's not what I want to ask. It's obvious she likes me. It's that word, that feeling I had…have for Chloe.

"What is it?"

Breathing deeply, I try again. "Do you…have…do you…love me?"

Her body stiffens at the question, giving me all the answer I need. Fuck!

"Let's…let's not think, about that right now, Max. How can I help you save Chloe?"

"No," I whisper, "no, no, no, no!"

Holding me at arms length, Kate looks at me. Her eyes are damp. Giving me a brave smile she says, "You heard the woman, Chloe is supposed to be alive! We have to save her."

"Kate," I say, whine rather, but she shushes me.

Abandon hope all ye who get involved with Max the Destroyer!

"I'll be fine, Max. We need to bring you and Chloe back together. If that woman is right, then this was never supposed to be."

Now she reaches out and stokes my cheek. So gentle. "I would rather you be happy with her than in the endless misery of now."

How can I say no to that?

Take her heart with you when you go, Max.

"Now, Max. If I understand your story right, you'll need to use that photo to return to just before Nathan shoots Chloe. I suggest you write a note in your journal. Give yourself a note from the future to not let her die, no matter what!"

What the fuck! Kate is too, too good. What will happen to you in this timeline? Does it, and you, cease to exist? Do you find someone to love you when I am gone? Someone you can love?

"Max, you were my friend before all this happens. I'd like to think you'll be my friend no matter what happens."

Eyes closed, my head nods. I can't trust myself to not break down and cry if I look at her. I feel something brush my cheek, soft, damp. Kate kissed me!

Before I can process that, something firm with sharp corners is placed into my hands. I open my eyes to see the photo of the butterfly.

"I'll always be your friend, Max." Those are the last words I hear from her as I'm pulled into the photo.