October 7, 2063
A cottage by a lake
Northern Minnesota
She shook her head as she glanced in the mirror, sighing a little. ‘No blue hair in a hella long time, but, I still kick just as much ass’, Chloe Price smirked. The fact that her last name was still Price had been a shock. However, her wife had told her in no uncertain terms that the Price name had to continue, in order to honor the man that Max had considered a second father. She smiled and stepped out of the front door.
Max ‘Never Maxine’ Price sat on an Adirondack chair, on the lake shore, next to the dock that held a simple rowboat. She had wondered when they’d get a motorboat. Chloe would always reply that she needed to keep her guns in shape, then doing a double biceps pose. Said biceps weren’t as big as they used to be, but, still made Max swoon as if she was still the girl she had been at Blackwell. Chloe would then do some other type of motor boating, and…. The silver haired woman’s cheeks flamed red.
The look turned to a somber, dark one, remembering other Blackwell era memories. The memories that this time of year always brought about. A voice, roughened by age, but still the one Max knew almost better than her own, spoke next to her left ear. “Whatcha’ thinkin’, Abe Lincoln?” The shorter woman rolled her eyes, “About how I need you like I need a hole in my head.” A chuckle sounded behind her, and her wife slumped into the chair next to her.
“I know. It’s...that time of year. The time that you….”. Even after many of these anniversaries, Chloe’s throat still closed up when thinking about it. She couldn’t even begin to know how Max dealt with it. “Oh, you mean the time I murdered an entire town?” Scathingly dark sarcasm burned. “The time I killed Warren, Victoria? “Her voice became a whisper. “….kate.” Chloe swallowed, hard. “The day I killed them, you mean. If… If I had.. had died, they’d all be here.”
Max scowled at her. “But then, I’d be alone! Alone with memories that I couldn’t share, that would probably have made me go insane!” The other woman’s eyes hardened to chips of solid ice. “But they’d still be alive, Max! So many goddamn wasted lives…” The shorter woman clenched her teeth in an attempt to stop a scream, then sighed wearily. “I’m going inside. Cold.” Chloe sat there, knowing there was nothing she could do. Some years, around this time, they were able to pull themselves out of this fucking black pit they were in. Other years….
Max stumbled into their bedroom, partially due to her whirlwind of feelings (she smirked darkly at her phrasing), and partially because she had forgotten her fucking cane out at the lake. She looked down at the shoe box of open photos, next to her on the bed. She had so many, except the ones that counted. The ones from the bad, black days. She lay down, knocking the box onto the floor, and quickly fell asleep.
She opened her eyes, and saw the diner that was her personal hell. No version of herself, this time. This time was so much worse. Kate Marsh sat across from her. Her skull was slightly cracked. Blood from the fracture matted her hair to her partially bare skull. The hand that held her cup of tea was just as Max remembered. The arm the hand connected to, was bent around backward, a large fracture along the upper part, the humerus. Max sure as fuck didn’t find any of this funny, though. She never did.
“You haven’t forgotten me, dear friend, have you? Forgotten us?” Kate’s voice held a mockery that it never had in life. A sneer spread across her face, and Max heard the small crack of her broken jaw. Several teeth fell out, one landing in the tea. “We’ve never forgotten you, Maxine.” Max looked down at her hands. Just as every time this happened, they were the young hands of her 18 year old self, untwisted by age. Looking up, she saw Kate was gone.
Standing up, she saw Warren standing by the cash register on the counter. His body was scorched, the skin cracked and partially black. There was no hair on his head, and one eye had exploded. A yellow shirt, with a gorilla on it saying “Let’s Go Ape, Bitch!” was on his chest. A sound like a car’s engine trying to turn over echoed, and Max realized that was the sound of his laughter. “I never even had a chance, did I?”, he said, in a voice of cracked cement and roaring flames. “That fucking bitch had you long before we met. But you didn’t need to kill me, Max. You didn’t need to kill YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING HOMETOWN!!” An explosion and terrified screams echoed, and then he was gone.
The diner was full of so many of those she had killed. Stella, Dana, Justin, Trevor. Even that fucking alkie, Wells. And they stared darkly at the cause of their demise. “Bitch!” Murderer!” Whore!” The voices blurred into a raging wind. As the wall of the diner was torn apart by it, Max screamed.
“NOOO!”. She shot up, heart racing. Familiar surroundings barely calmed her, with those voices still in her head. The door slammed open and her wife rushed in. “Shit, Max!” Chloe raced forth, holding her love tightly in her long arms. After a few seconds of rocking Max back and forth, she said. “Same dreams?” Her wife merely nodded. “I’m so sorry for what I said, baby.”, the taller woman said. The other only shook her head, unable to speak. “In and out, Maximal. Nice and easy.” When she had regained her breath, Chloe showed her a light blue envelope. “This was in the mail.” The front bore a Los Angeles address, of one Victoria Maribeth Chase. “Still so conceited that she has to use all three names”, Chloe smirked.
Max’s trembling hand slowly took it from her grasp. Victoria hadn’t written them in years, not since just after their marriage. Time had mellowed her, but, as Chloe said, the old ‘Queen B’ was still there.
Dear Maxine, (‘I swear she does that to get a rise out of me, even after all of these years’, Max thought.)
I was going though some old photos of mine, and this one stood out.
Her breath stopped, as an image that she had both cursed and desperately wanted, fell out.
A picture of a blue butterfly.
“..H… How?”, she muttered. “Seeing the letter went on, she turned her eyes to it.
Despite my being a total bitch to you in our Blackwell days, I could see that you had talent. When I saw he had a copy of your photo, I asked for a copy of my own. The look in that bastard’s eyes told me he thought that I was recognizing my better. I played into that, though it disgusted me at the time. I didn’t know why I wanted it, just that I did. He made me the copy, but in the ensuing… unpleasantness, I forgot I had it. I hope it brings you more joy than it ever could, for me.
Best Regards,
Victoria Maribeth Chase
“Fucking shit, Max.”, Chloe said. “That’s…. you can…” Tears filled both womens’ eyes. “But… but what if I fuck things up again? What if you and the town both die, somehow? I…” Holding onto her beautiful hipster’s hand, she said, “I trust you, Max. No matter what choice you make.” Glancing down at their joined hands, Chloe muttered under her breath. Max gave her a confused look. “What if.. I held on?” The shorter woman’s look turned incredulous. “Like.. if you came back with me?” Chloe nodded, and despite her fear, she felt a small ember of hope begin to burn in her chest.
“We don’t know if it would work, even just for me. I might not ever have my powers, anymore.” Chloe’s eyes widened, a little. “But, shouldn’t we take the chance? To save them all?” Max sighed, and focused on the photo. “Them, and you.”, she said. She could hear the sound of the Polaroid taking the picture she held in her hands. Her wife’s eyes widened even more. “Fuck, Max! I can hear something coming from that picture!” ‘YES!’, Max thought, a grin blooming on her features. “Here goes.” she said, focusing her vision more. “See you earlier, Max o’ mine.”, was the last thing she heard before the white void filled her view.
50 years earlier…..
She was back. Back to the day it all started, or all ended, rather. Panicked shouting meant that she only had a few seconds. Max ran around the corner, and shoved Nathan Prescott to the side. The gun went off, shattering one of the mirrors. “The fuck? Caulfield? What the hell are you doing here?”, an irate Nathan shouted. Chloe just stood there, staring. Realizing she had no time to see if her plan had worked, she grabbed the bluenette’s arm and ran. Things after that played out close to how they had been, and Max realized she had failed. She was the only one who came back.
She was in the closet in Chloe’s room again. Once again, David was shouting at her about the weed. Steeling herself, she ran out into the room. “Hold the fuck back, David! You touch one hair on my wife’s head again, and I’ll fucking kill you!”, she shouted, not fully realizing what she was saying. Without a single second’s hesitation, she hauled back and slapped him as hard as she could. Coming to her senses, she waited for the return blow. But it never came. With a stare of confusion and shock, the man opened the door and left.
“Thanks, Max.”. Chloe looked about ready to break into tears. “No one’s ever done that, not even… even Joyce. But, what the fuck do you mean, ‘wife’?” Leaning forward, Max traced her fingers along the bluentte’s jaw. A sort of soft hope bloomed on the taller girl’s face. Whispering, “I love you, Chloe. I always have and always will”, she melded her lips to her Captain's. Quiet moans of understanding and love echoed, and Max was so glad she had the pleasure of another first kiss with her perfect person.
As they pulled away, a new light dawned in the taller girl’s eyes. “Max…? It…. It worked….?” The time traveler gasped in joy and squeezed Chloe hard, kissing her again. Looking rather twitterpated, she said, “It did work, Max! What do we do, now?” The girls’ eyes glinted with the love of two souls reconnecting. “Now? Now we find a way to save everyone, my one and only love.”