* Tuesday, Science Lab, After the Funeral *

Ten minutes staring at the simple chemicals in front of her and Max still has no idea what's going on. Kate stands next to her, worry on her face. Victoria keeps taking sideways glances back from her seat next to Courtney. Even Miss Grant notices.

'Max, you with us today?'

Huh? 'Uh, yeah Miss Grant.'

'Good. Now, Turn to page one-oh-four, we are going to discuss basic interactions of alkaloids and acids and the dangers of...'

Again, Max zones out. Kate, to her relief, seems to be able to reach her. 'So Max, you need to focus a bit.'

'Yeah, I- I'm good.'

'You... you really aren't.'

The brunette turns, finally focusing on her lab mate. 'Fine. I'm not good. But I'm here.'

The petite girl looks no less worried but she nods. Noticing a change in their teacher's inflection, they quiet their whispers.

'...remember gloves. And for Pete's sake, Logan, do not light anything on fire. Some of these chemicals will react badly to heat.'

Kate leans over and whispers into Max's ear, in spite of the fact all their classmates are already talking loudly with each other. 'I have no idea what we're doing.'

Victoria, in a faux casual manner, comes over with Courtney in tow. 'So, how's it going?' The nonplus attitude fools no one.

Courtney speaks up, significantly less subtle. 'Max, why you acting all...' The accompanying hand movements imply a close, but not quite completed, drop into Crazy Town.

Victoria gives the brunette a little bump, shoulder to shoulder. The warning of 'Court...'

The questioning on her face is accompanied with a hint of a smirk. 'What? She's acting all sketch.'

Max interrupts before another fight between friends can occur. 'She's right, Vicky. I got, uh. I got a box of stuff. Chloe's stuff.' She tries to laugh. Sounds half-way to a sob instead. 'Kinda messed me up today.'

Courtney looks surprised and... contrite? 'Sorry, Max. I know it's, you know. Hard to deal with that stuff.'

Empathy? Like, who is this? 'Yeah, th-thanks Courtney' Didn't even have to appeal to her fashionista. 'So, um, what are we supposed to be doing today? Me and Kate kinda blanked out.'

'Calculating and identifying weak acid and base pairing with regard to salt hydrolysis.' Everyone looks at Victoria. She waves around a few pages stapled together. 'What? It's on top of the lesson plan.'

A clearing throat breaks the conversation as Miss Grant shoots them a look. 'Let's get back to work, girls. Max, would you please come up here?'

As the party breaks up, Max's stomach lurches. What did I do now? Prepared to face the music, she stops at the front desk. 'Yes?'

A soft look greets her, along with a quiet tone. 'You okay Max, really? I know you've been having a tough time with all the chaos last week.'

Not even half of it... 'Uh ye-' Why lie? 'No. Not at all, Miss Grant.'

'Oh, don't go too far. It does get better. It will just take you time, okay?' She smiles, a bit forced. 'A bunch of adults are going to tell you the same thing. Not to worry, it gets better, etcetera. It's all true, and it's the last thing anyone wants to hear. So just know you got people here for you when you need it.'

The kindness of the words breaks Max, just a little more. This is why you are one- no, my favorite teacher. 'Thanks. Just been a rough morning. David- I mean, Mister Madsen, dropped off a bunch of Chlo's stuff.'

A bit of worry. 'Explains a lot. Well, as your teacher, I want you to work diligently and pay attention. I also want you to be okay, so if you need to step out let me know.'

'Thanks, eh, again.'

'Of course. Now, go help Kate. She's already mixing solutions.'

Heading back to her station, Max pauses and watches as Kate very properly and diligently measure out specific milliliters of solutions for her test tubes, hazel eyes peering through her safety goggles. A real grin, the first in (It's feels like so long) a while, threatens the depression Max feels.

A pop, a break, and a string of curses breaks through.

'Logan!'

Furiously rubbing his eyes, Logan stumbles back from his own desk. A beaker lies shattered on the floor before him, it's liquid contents strewn across the classroom floor. Noxious fumes push out of one of his tubes, the smoke billowing and falling to the floor below.

What the hell did he do?!

The flurry of activity doesn't prevent her from noticing Victoria staring at her. Making eye contact, it takes Max a long moment to understand the words Vicky is silently mouthing to her: Do something.

Hand raised, Max rewinds.

Standing over his supplies, Logan (sans goggles) jokingly uses one hand to give Hayden a shove, who shoves right back as Logan's other hand directly pours out of a beaker into an already half-filled test tube. Jostled, the beaker spills over his hand, the tubes, the table, ad drops as he reflexively lets go. A pop of reaction occurs in the tube as a wet splash of the flash-boiling liquids. Fully into his staring eyes.

Not far enough.

Max pulls back further, watching as the beaker leaps back into a hand, liquids transport back into their containers.

Max observes as the offending beaker is filled from a separate container behind one of the glass cabinets lining the room.

The genius just decided to start mixing and matching... He fucking deserves it...

A flutter in her stomach.

Did I really just want someone to get hurt?

Yup.

Shut it.

The pause in time adds a bit of strain to Max's head.

Nope. You just wanted Logan to pay for his stupidity.

That's not what I...

Yes it is.

I didn't...

Yes you did. Watch out.

The rewind started flowing again, a crawl, as Max tries to time (Ha-ha, get it?) her rewind to keep it from spilling into her conversation up front. And to keep herself from seeming to randomly teleport. So much harder with so many witnesses.

She settles when Logan finishes closing the cabinet. Moving slow enough there shouldn't be a problem.

Mentally pressing play, she reaches out, trying to gently grab the beaker without spilling.

A jostle, a curse, a look from Logan. A pop.

Pause.

The first violent boil of fluids reaches up between Max and Logan. Fear in his eyes. Relief in hers.

Damn, he's a klutz. Maybe if I...

Again, jostle, pop, spl-

Barely caught it this time.

'Logan, wait!'

'Huh?', push, jostle, pop...

Crap.

Take one for the team.

Don't feel like getting blinded.

Um, duh? Use your hand.

Looking around for safety gloves, the only close ones are all worn by classmates.

Well, Vicky is in for a surprise.

Gently, oh so gently, Max pries a glove off of Victoria's hand. Left side. Okay. Grab and slap my hand on top.

Trying once again from her start point.

And everything goes as planned.

Until Courtney speaks. 'The hell? Max, how did you get Tori's glove.

Shit!

Rewind.

Now you have a decision to make.

Try to explain how I got Vicky's glove off her hand in an instant or use my bare hand to cover the beaker.

Yup.

Which do you suggest?

Come on, really? First, you have to realize the irony of asking the voice in your head for help. Second, you're the one with the time lord powers. Third, this is a new one for me/us.

Wait a minute. You don't know what happens?

Nope. Logan got blinded. The most I/we know is he's in the hospital.

And that information opens up a whole new level of understanding for Max.

You're not just a future me, are you?

The pain of holding the moment increases.

Exactly. We are metaphysical. There and not. Yes and no. We are, at once, the end. And ever changing. The you you can be at every time.

If I didn't already have a headache...

YOU have a headache? We are constantly changing as we talk. Without change, we are stable. But it is a spinning top. We hold position only so long as nothing changes.

Max realizes this is the most personal her FM station has ever gotten.

Yes. You are closer to us here than before. Other yous are more distant. More divergent. But do not stray too far.

What happens if I do?

We like who we are now.

The hell?

...

Max loses the frequency.

So. Decisions, decisions.

The pain in her temples doubles. And a new thought enters.

Wait! I never held time still this long. I must be... growing.

She stares at her hand, focusing her mind. Time wibble-wobbles back and forth, to her whim.

Cool. Focus! Ask Warren later, first...

Max decides. She lets go of the fabric of space-time.

And slams her bare palm on the top of the beaker.

Holyshitthatfuckingstings-

Tears in her eyes, she looks around the room. Almost every pair of eyes available stare at her holding the corrosive liquid firmly in it's container. Logan's hands float around the glass, showing that it obviously was about to fall. Carefully Max turns her hands so the beaker rotates ninety degrees upright. Placing it on the table, only then does she remove her hand from the top, staring blankly at the half-dollar size circle of irritated skin that was already showing signs of blistering.

Raising her right hand, this time high above her head.

'Miss Grant, I think I need the nurse.'